How should a cute girl act?
The God-King of the Unending Summit was faced with an unprecedentedly thorny issue. After much contemplation, he summoned Kong Muhua for an audience.
Kong Muhua was an oddity within the Unending Summit. Despite being a male peacock demon and a formidable general on the battlefield wielding two giant axes, he would dress as a dainty lady once transformed into human form. With a strikingly beautiful face and grace in every step, he was the epitome of soft elegance. He loved beauty contests and was proficient at coquetry, to the point where few knew he was actually male.
He consistently topped the list of dream lovers among male cultivators and was the fox demon most wanted dead by female cultivators.
Now, being suddenly summoned by the God-King, Kong Muhua was somewhat nervous, wondering if he had done something wrong.
The Divine Lord dismissed everyone else and approached him. From his hair ornaments to his clothing, from his posture to his gestures, he scrutinized every detail. He even examined the way he styled his hair, the arch of his eyebrows, and listened to the timbre of his voice. He commanded him to walk a few steps and to smile... Lastly, he inquired about the things that women are fond of.
Kong Muhua was entirely taken aback, as if the entire peacock in him was stunned.
He felt that the peak of immortality was about to welcome its mistress.
The Divine Lord possesses impeccable taste, and his discerning eyes are hard to please. How perfect must a beauty be to capture his attention?
Kong Muhua felt the urge to cry. He knew he couldn't match the Divine Lord's beauty. That's why he had dressed as a woman, to take an unconventional approach to win. Now, even this beauty seemed destined to be outshone by the Divine Queen. He felt his life as a peacock was bleak and even unfurling his feathers seemed pointless. He desperately needed the comforting embrace of a gentle and handsome man—someone like Bai Xianzun—to tumble with him in bed, and perhaps even coerce him into marriage.
Any fantasies people had about the Divine Lord should be laid to rest.
Perhaps Bai Xianzun might agree to become his Daoist companion?
Having thought this far, Kong Muhua put aside his sorrow and happily ran off to spread the news.
...
Inside the Wutong Pavilion, behind the heavy beaded curtains.
The Divine Lord removed his snow-feathered cloak, took a meticulous bath, and stood in front of the mirror, critically examining his own features. As a cultivator in the Divided Spirit stage, it's easy for him to alter his appearance and physique. The challenge lies in how to change it in a way that would win another's heart.
After some thought, he changed himself back to how he looked at fourteen. At that age, his height was just right and his features were androgynous. With a waist so slim it was barely graspable, all he needed to do was to thin his shoulders and slightly reduce the structure of his hands and feet. Suppressing his cultivation to the Foundation Building stage would perfect the delicate image of a frail beauty.
He pondered the common features of those in Zhao Ye's memories, along with Kong Muhua's flawless cross-dressing skills. He refined the details, hiding his Adam's apple, and softening the sharp angles around his eyes. He transformed his vibrant and fiery aura into one of gentle warmth, but the teardrop mole at the corner of his eye couldn't be hidden, nor could his worldly sensuality.
After much deliberation, he gave up on altering the teardrop mole.
Although most mission targets had been pure beauties, he knew that Song Qingshi liked those with vibrant, passionate qualities. So, he couldn't entirely discard the traits of Yue Wuhuan... He smiled at his reflection, allowing a glint of desire to flow through his dignified eyes, blooming solely for one person.
The subtle allure within the pure aura, a momentary lapse into indulgence amidst sanctity and austerity—that's what pulls men into the abyss. Just as what Song Qingshi had done to him in bed—absolute delight.
Even with the cycle of lost memories, promises must be kept.
Song Qingshi proposed, and he agreed; they were committed Daoist companions, with no room for second thoughts.
While he would not force anything upon an amnesiac, he had no intention of playing the gentleman either; he would employ whatever means necessary.
He refrained from pondering whether such means were madness or perversion, for his feelings had long been uncontrollable.
As Song Qingshi once said during a treatment, desire is not something to be ashamed of; not to suppress one's natural instincts and to release them freely could aid in recovery.
He hoped that Song Qingshi could practice what he preached, making every effort to properly treat himself.
...
Mr. Yue attentively cared for Song Qingshi without sparing a moment, keeping close to him at all times and administering countless elixirs and remedies.
Song Qingshi's wounds healed quickly, but his sleep was restless. Each morning he found himself lying on Mr. Yue's legs, his mouth swollen and even torn at places. Despite drinking herbal teas to reduce inflammation, there was no noticeable improvement. He suspected it was due to the dry climate and his weakened constitution.
Mr. Yue found the herbal teas too bitter and suggested he try honey as a more palatable alternative.
Song Qingshi was immensely grateful, praising Mr. Yue daily for his kindness.
Watching from the sidelines, Song Jincheng became increasingly convinced that their relationship was more than just a simple friendship. His own father had never cared for him with such tenderness, much less offer him unrestricted spending money. Therefore, he suspected that Song Qingshi must be Mr. Yue's illegitimate son, a fact carefully concealed for some reason.
Recalling how he had struggled to fulfill Mr. Yue's last request, Song Jincheng regretted his lack of diligence as he had been reprimanded and sent to reflect on his shortcomings.
This time, he was determined to seize the opportunity to gain Mr. Yue's favor, lest he suffer the same fate as his older peers—though their hair had regrown thanks to hair-restoring medicines, they became laughingstocks and remained single to this day.
Filled with ambition, Song Jincheng ran errands to procure all sorts of travel essentials for Song Qingshi.
At last, everything was in its place.
Mr. Yue announced that he had matters to attend to and would have to leave. Before his departure, he produced a snow-white robe with wide sleeves, explaining that it was a parting gift specially tailored for him at Skillful Cloth Workshop a few days earlier.
Song Qing's robe had long since worn out, so he was thrilled to see this new one that he immediately took a liking to. He put it on right there and then, expressing his thanks over and over.
Mr. Yue smiled as he tidied up Song Qing's disheveled strands of hair, then took his leave.
As Song Qing began to pack his bags, preparing to set off, it suddenly occurred to him that he had forgotten to arrange for transportation. Song Jincheng had skipped school without permission and dared not use any flying ships from Medicine King Valley, and the remote town where they were now staying had few cultivators passing through. There was neither a Beast Gate nor any high-grade flying ships available.
Standing on the main street, both men looked at each other for a long while before finally purchasing two swift spirit horses. They calculated their route on the map and planned to ride for three days to reach Ruinan City, where they would rent a flying ship from the Beast Gate.
The two men mounted their horses and rode off, stirring up a cloud of dust.
From the moment he left the city, Song Qing felt he was being watched. He looked back and saw the beautiful red celestial bird he had encountered days earlier following him once more.
He waved his hand.
The celestial bird flew down and affectionately perched on his shoulder, pecking gently at his ear as if to be playful.
"What a beautiful bird," Song Jincheng said, amused by the interaction. He took out some seeds to tease it, "Come on, let big brother touch your tail."
The red celestial bird turned its neck slowly and stared coldly at him. Suddenly, it spat out a burst of flame, setting both Song Jincheng's clothes and hair alight. Panicked, Song Jincheng flailed about, scattering sparks everywhere. Even the spirit horse's tail caught fire, causing it to leap up and bolt forward, carrying a screaming Song Jincheng.
Song Qing was stunned. He turned back slowly to look at the mysterious red celestial bird on his shoulder, realizing this was not a creature to be trifled with.
The celestial bird once again nuzzled his cheek, then lowered its head to preen its feathers, pretending as if nothing untoward had happened.
The wails of Song Jincheng grew louder, "Qing, come quick!"
His tone shifted with each word, and the last two words even cracked.
Sensing that something was off, Song Qing quickly rode over, only to find an injured, unconscious young woman in red lying near a cliff. She appeared to have suffered an accident up in the mountains and had rolled down, her head wounded and bleeding, multiple abrasions on her hands and feet, and what seemed to be a sprained ankle.
The young woman was extraordinarily delicate, her complexion a light honey hue. Her features were like artwork, perfectly beautiful in every respect. Long eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings. A tiny red teardrop-shaped mark below her left eye added an indescribable allure. She was dressed in a red ice-silk gown that had been torn in several places while running, revealing her slender neck and a hint of collarbone. Her hairpins were askew, and her black hair spread out like silk upon the green grass...
Song Qing felt slightly confused, "I feel like I've seen this young lady somewhere before."
Song Jincheng agreed, "I get that feeling every time I see a beautiful girl."
Song Qing found himself choked up, belatedly realizing the inappropriateness of his words. Shaking off the jumble of emotions in his head, he crouched down to assess the young woman's injuries.
"The head wound looks serious; she might have a minor concussion. Immediate treatment is required to prevent any deterioration." Skillfully, Song Qing inserted acupuncture needles, channeling his spiritual energy to dissipate the internal bleeding. He then prepared a diluted Clarity Pill for her to swallow.
"Are you sure about this?" Song Jincheng looked worried. He had never seen this kind of acupuncture technique and was concerned that Song Qing was posing as an expert, risking the well-being of the beautiful young woman. "Maybe we should take her to a medical clinic for professional treatment."
Having finished the acupuncture and bandaged the wounds, Song Qing looked bewildered, "Why would we need another doctor? I am a physician."
Song Jincheng pointed out sternly, "You don't seem particularly reliable."
Feeling his credentials were again in question, Song Qing seemed rather vexed, "I am very skilled in medicine."
Song Jincheng pressed, "Do you know Huangque Suture Technique? Dongniang's Eighteen Needles? Huang's Bone-Setting Method? These techniques have been handed down for almost a thousand years. Every physician knows them."
Song Qing continued to look puzzled...
Song Jincheng sighed and shook his head.
Song Qing, realizing his reputation was about to be smeared, quickly retorted, "I know the Ghostly Divine Eighty-Eight Needles."
"The Ghostly Divine Eighty-Eight Needles? The enigmatic, so-called 'world's best needle technique'?" Song Jincheng almost laughed, "Even Medicine King Valley doesn't have any records of it. Where did you learn that?"
"I can't remember," Song Qing massaged his forehead, feeling the technique imprinted in his mind, easily accessible and effective as if he used it regularly, "but I really do know it."
He just couldn't remember how he had learned it...
After some contemplation and convinced of his own proficiency, Song Qing saw that Song Jincheng had no better treatment plan. He crouched down and continued with the acupuncture to align her meridians, facilitating her recovery.
As the internal bleeding dissipated, the young woman in red began to regain consciousness. With dazed phoenix-like eyes, she gently rearranged her disheveled collar, modestly covering the torn parts of her dress. Then, casting her eyes on both men, she finally fixed her gaze on Song Qing for a long time, softly asking, "Were you the one who saved me?"
"We were just passing by," Song Qing, not wanting to be misunderstood, quickly introduced himself and Song Jincheng as apothecaries, finally asking, "What's your name? Where's your home? We'll take you back."
The young woman in red thought for a while and shook her head, mournfully saying, "I don't know."
Song Jincheng expressed his surprise, "You've lost your memory too?"
He looked at Song Qing accusingly, as if suggesting that it was the acupuncture that had messed up her brain.
"Transient memory loss due to concussion isn't uncommon. Her condition seems more serious than we initially thought; she should be under medical observation," Song Qing felt increasingly awkward under the scrutiny, resolute to admit her for medical care to prove his competency. He pulled out a notebook to jot down her condition, then hesitated, not knowing her name, "Let's call her Little..."
Sensing something amiss, the young woman in red swiftly intervened, "I think my name might be Feng Jun."
Song Qing hesitated for a moment, crossing out the name he had scribbled in the medical record. He had initially thought of naming her "Little Red."