Transmigrating into the world of Jade Dynasty, I was targeted by the female lead in a reverse romanc

A few days later, news came from Tongtian Peak that Sect Leader Daoxuan had personally decided that a grand ceremony for the marriage of Lu Xueqi and Jiang Xiaochuan would be held in Yuqing Hall three months later. Invitations poured in, inviting righteous sects from all over the world to celebrate.

As soon as the news came out, the entire Qingyun Sect was thrown into a frenzy of activity.

Among the seven peaks, the disciples hurried back and forth, and even the rustling sound of the mountain wind blowing through the bamboo forest sounded like suppressed whispers. There was an indescribable joy in the air, as if the entire Qingyun Mountain was slightly warm for this once-in-a-century event.

Invitations flew out of Qingyun Mountain like snowflakes.

They swept across the sea of ​​clouds over Tongtian Peak, traversed the bamboo waves of Dazhu Peak, flew towards the morning bells and evening drums of Tianyin Temple, flew towards the blazing sky of Fenxiang Valley, and flew towards all the major and minor righteous sects in the world. For a time, the marriage of Lu Xueqi of Qingyun Sect and Jiang Xiaochuan became the hottest topic in the cultivation world. During tea breaks and between cultivation sessions, everyone was discussing the upcoming grand ceremony.

Some praised the handsome man and beautiful woman, some marveled at the flourishing of Qingyun Sect, and others secretly wondered what deeper meaning lay behind this marriage.

A small teahouse has recently opened in Heyang City.

The two-story wooden building stands facing the street, with bamboo curtains hanging under the eaves. When the wind blows, they sway gently and make a soft, rustling sound, like someone plucking an invisible zither. Above the door hangs a simple wooden plaque with the three characters "Wangchenxuan" written on it. The characters are elegant yet strong, as if the writer has a vast world in his heart, but only reveals a wisp of cloud and smoke.

The teahouse was thriving, with a constant stream of customers from all walks of life.

The shopkeeper was a woman, extremely beautiful, yet without a trace of arrogance in her eyes. She wore only a plain white dress and leaned lazily against the counter. She rested her chin on one hand and casually fiddled with the abacus beads with the other. Her fingertips would occasionally pause, as if she were calculating something, or as if her thoughts had already drifted elsewhere. Her eyes were full of charm, but there was always something in that charm that others could not understand.

Occasionally, she would look up at the official road leading into the distance outside the door, her gaze distant, lost in thought.

She is waiting for someone.

She knew he would come, but she didn't know when he would come or in what form he would arrive.

As usual, the teahouse was bustling with noise that day.

A regular customer, seated by the window, had drunk three cups of tea when he couldn't stop talking. He shouted towards the counter, "Boss lady, have you heard? Someone from the Qingyun Sect is getting married! It's a big deal!"

Xiao Bai's hands never stopped moving the abacus, the beads clinking together, each sound crisp and clear.

Without looking up, she simply uttered a soft "Oh," the last syllable rising slightly, as if she had heard something interesting, or as if she hadn't taken anything to heart at all.

The regular customer, oblivious to everything, continued speaking animatedly: "That's right! Invitations have been sent out far and wide; I heard they even invited the eminent monks of Tianyin Temple and the immortals of Fenxiang Valley! Hey, this is the most exciting and joyous event in the righteous path in nearly a hundred years! Boss lady, isn't that a fantastic thing?"

Xiao Bai finally raised his eyes.

Her gaze swept past the counter, past the tea drinkers, and landed on the face of a regular customer. A slight smile curved her lips: "A happy occasion?"

The smile was extremely faint, like the first ripple on the surface of water when a spring breeze blows across it, and it vanished in an instant.

The regular customer, oblivious to the subtle nuances, assumed the proprietress was simply in high spirits and spoke with even greater enthusiasm: "Of course it's a joyous occasion! A perfect match, a match made in heaven! I've heard the bride is the most outstanding disciple Qingyun has produced in a hundred years, as beautiful as a celestial being! The groom is no less impressive, the last disciple of Tian Buyi of Dazhu Peak, said to be exceptionally talented, young and promising, with a bright future..."

"The tea's gone cold," Xiaobai suddenly spoke, her voice neither too loud nor too soft, cutting off the other's endless chatter at just the right moment. "Want me to refill it?"

The regular customer was taken aback, looked down at his cup, and saw that the tea was indeed a bit cold. He nodded hurriedly, "Ah? Oh, okay, thank you, ma'am, thank you."

Xiao Bai emerged from behind the counter, picked up the teapot, and walked lightly to the table.

She leaned slightly forward, tilting the spout of the kettle, and a stream of boiling water poured into the cup. Steam rose up, enveloping her in front of her, blurring her features and the faint expression on her face.

The regular customer thanked her, took another sip of hot tea, and then, as if remembering something, looked her up and down a few times: "Speaking of which, with a talent like you, why don't you open a restaurant instead of this teahouse? With your looks, if you opened a restaurant, you'd be making a fortune every day!"

Xiaobai put down the teapot, her fingertips gently stroking the handle. Her voice was very soft, as if she were talking to herself: "Good day, teahouse."

After a pause, he added, "Waiting for someone."

A regular customer, not hearing clearly, craned his neck and asked, "What?"

Xiao Bai smiled.

This time, however, there was no hint of a smile in his eyes, only a deep, unfathomable calm, like water in an ancient well, where the wind could not stir a ripple.

She shook her head and said softly, "It's nothing. Please enjoy your meal."

She turned and walked back to the counter, sat down again, and continued to fiddle with the abacus.

Clatter, clatter, the beads clattered, their sound filling the air.

And others.

Waiting for someone who may never come, waiting for an ending that may not be worth waiting for.

But waiting itself has an inexplicable meaning, just like this teahouse, which is named "Forget-Dust Pavilion" because it is impossible to forget, yet it hopes to forget; it knows it shouldn't wait, yet it insists on waiting.

If he comes, the first thing he'll see is this door, this plaque, and this person.

If he doesn't come...

Xiao Bai's fingers paused for a moment, then continued scrolling as if nothing had happened.

At least, I'm here.

……

Ten thousand miles away, at Fox Ridge Mountain.

Jin Ping'er walked through the winding corridors, her footsteps echoing softly on the bluestone ground. She bypassed several clumps of unknown orchids and arrived at a cave dwelling.

The cave's stone door was tightly shut. Jin Ping'er stopped in front of the door, raised her hand as if to knock, but her fingertips hovered in mid-air without falling.

Footsteps sounded behind him. The steady and experienced man turned around and saw the Ghost King walking towards him with his hands behind his back, his black robe billowing, his face calm as still water.

"Sect Master." Jin Ping'er curtsied and bowed her head.

The Ghost King walked to her side, his gaze passing over her and landing on the tightly closed stone door. He remained silent for a moment, and the mountain wind passed between them, bringing with it the sound of the distant pine trees.

"Do you need to see Yao'er?" he finally asked, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Jin Ping'er nodded and lowered her voice, saying, "I've received news that that person... has appeared in the East Sea. I wanted to report this to you, Miss, perhaps..."

"No need."

The Ghost King interrupted her, his tone as calm as cutting off a stream. He looked at the stone door, his gaze seemingly piercing through the thick stone walls to see the figure sitting cross-legged inside: "Yao'er is at a crucial moment in her seclusion, do not disturb her."

Jin Ping'er hesitated, then looked up at the Ghost King's calm profile. Her lips trembled slightly before she finally lowered her head and said, "Yes."

The Ghost King sighed, a sigh so soft and brief that it could almost be mistaken for the sound of the wind if one wasn't paying attention.

He turned around, looked at Jin Ping'er, and softened his tone: "Ping'er, I know what you want to say, and I understand Yao'er's thoughts, but now... is not the time."

He paused, his gaze passing over Jin Ping'er and looking towards the distant, misty mountains: "Let her focus on her cultivation. I'll handle the outside affairs."

Jin Ping'er finally couldn't help but raise her head. She looked at the Ghost King, a hint of reluctance flashing in her eyes, along with a somewhat indescribable meaning: "Sect Master, Miss... she will find out one day."

Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear, like water droplets falling on a stone slab, each one resounding: "When she finds out we've been keeping this from her..."

"So what if I know?"

The Ghost King's voice suddenly deepened, carrying an almost cold calm. He slowly turned around, his back to Jin Ping'er and the tightly closed stone door. His black robe billowed slightly in the mountain wind, making his back look particularly lonely.

"Whether she hates me or resents me, it's better than her going to her death now."

His voice was somewhat ethereal in the wind, yet every word pierced to the bone. Jin Ping'er stood behind him, unable to see the expression on his face, only his hands behind his back, his knuckles tightening little by little.

"Qingyun Sect has sent out invitations far and wide, and the whole world knows." The Ghost King's voice was like water drawn from a deep well, carrying a bone-chilling coldness.

"The woman that man is going to marry is a once-in-a-century genius of the Qingyun Sect, a future personally approved by Dao Xuan. What would it be like for Yao'er to go now? To steal the bride? To cause a scene?"

He chuckled softly, a laugh devoid of any joy, only a shrewd and clear-headed coldness: "Will Dao Xuan let her leave Tongtian Peak alive? Will the Seven Peaks of Qingyun spare her?"

The mountain wind suddenly picked up, the pine trees roared like fury, howling across the mountains and plains. The Ghost King's hand slowly clenched, his knuckles turning white, as if he were grasping something unseen.

"I only have this one daughter."

His voice suddenly softened, so soft it was almost swallowed by the wind, yet every word fell clearly into Jin Ping'er's ears.

"I would stand against the world for her."

He turned around and looked at Jin Ping'er with eyes as sharp as knives. In that instant, Jin Ping'er saw something deep in his eyes that she had never seen before, something so profound that it was almost burning hot.

"But we can't just watch her... court death."

A silence spread between them, like an invisible frost settling on their shoulders, cold and heavy.

After a long while, the Ghost King withdrew his gaze, his voice regaining its usual composure, though with a hint of barely perceptible weariness: "Ping'er, remember this: some information is best kept to yourself."

He turned around and looked again at the tightly closed stone door.

At this moment, he was no longer the Ghost King who commanded thousands of demonic disciples, but simply a father standing in front of his daughter's secluded cave, a father about to build a high wall of lies to surround the person he cherished most.

"If one day, Yao'er really finds out, blame only me."

His voice was soft, as if he were speaking to Jin Ping'er, or to the naive daughter behind the stone door, or even to himself.

"But at least for now... let her go into seclusion in peace."

"Consider it the last selfish thing a father can do for her."

The mountain wind remained unchanged, and the pine trees stood behind him, watching his lonely figure. Their lips moved, but in the end, they said nothing more.

She lowered her head, gave a silent bow, and turned to leave.

The corridors twisted and turned, the footsteps faded into the distance, and before the cave, only the Ghost King remained, standing as still as a pine tree, speechless before the ever-silent stone gate.