Suo Qingjun Chapter 13

Warning

When the morning light pierced through the spiritual mist, the courtyard of Qihe Peak was still soaked in the sticky atmosphere that had not dissipated from the previous night.

Qing Feng’an was startled awake by the heavy pressure on his shoulder. When he opened his eyes, he was met with black fabric. Jin Xianling was lying on his side, holding him close, his forehead resting against the hollow of Qing Feng’an’s neck. His breath was warm and steady, carrying a lingering sense of satisfaction. The pain from the night before had long since turned into a dull ache deep within his bones. His entire body felt as if it had been dismantled and reassembled; the slightest movement pulled at a fine, stinging pain, causing him to furrow his brows involuntarily.

His moon-white sword robes were crumpled and scattered at the edge of the bed, revealing skin covered in red marks of varying depths. They looked like branded imprints, proclaiming the debauchery and plunder of the previous night. Qing Feng’an closed his eyes, a bitterness rising in his throat. He had spent his life in pure cultivation, his sword heart clear and untainted. He had never imagined he would find himself in such a humiliating situation—trapped in this small space by the very disciple he had personally taught and placed high hopes in, through such overbearing means.

Master is awake?

Jin Xianling’s voice carried the raspiness of someone who had just woken up. He immediately tightened his arms, pulling him closer. He nuzzled his nose gently against Qing Feng’an’s neck like a pampered young beast, yet there was no trace of innocence in his eyes—only a predatory possessiveness. Does your body still hurt? I’ve already had a nourishing breakfast prepared, as well as ointments to promote blood circulation and heal the bruising.

As he spoke, he reached out to touch Qing Feng’an’s waist, only for Qing Feng’an to jerk away. The movement was filled with suppressed resistance and a barely perceptible tremor.

Qing Feng’an’s voice was as cold as ice, devoid of any warmth: Let go.

Those two short words exhausted all his strength. The struggles and resistance of the previous night had been in vain; facing Jin Xianling’s current tenderness, he felt only a profound sense of irony. Although most of his acupoints had been unsealed, his internal energy still felt sluggish and obstructed when he tried to circulate it. Clearly, Jin Xianling had tampered with the acupoint sealing, ensuring he couldn’t escape without rendering him completely immobile, so that he would obediently stay by his side.

Jin Xianling’s movements paused, and the tenderness in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a dark gloom. He did not let go; instead, he raised his hand to pinch Qing Feng’an’s chin, forcing him to turn his head and look him in the eye. Those eyes, which had once been filled with pure admiration, were now churning with obsession and madness, like a vortex in the dark of night, threatening to drag one into the abyss.

Let go? He gave a low chuckle, his tone carrying a hint of ruthlessness. Master, after everything, are you still thinking of escaping?

His thumb rubbed against Qing Feng’an’s pale lips, the pressure gradually increasing until he saw the lips redden before slowly letting go. I said it last night: this is the beginning of our life together. You are my master, the only person I, Jin Xianling, have ever wanted in this life. Before, I respected you, feared you, and worshipped you like a god. But what about you? You only had eyes for the common people, for that broken sword. You never had me.

Now, I have dragged the god down to the mortal realm to make you belong to me alone. What is wrong with that?

Looking at the madness in his eyes, Qing Feng’an felt a chill in his heart. He knew that the Jin Xianling before him was no longer the youth who would follow behind him and timidly ask about the essentials of sword techniques. Three years had not only allowed his martial arts to reach mastery but had also allowed the obsession in his heart to grow into a demon.

What you want has never been me, but your own obsession. Qing Feng’an’s voice was soft, yet it carried a bone-chilling clarity. Jin Xianling, by imprisoning me and forcing me, you will only make me loathe you more.

Loathe? Jin Xianling seemed to have heard something amusing and suddenly burst into laughter, his laugh tinged with a hint of insanity. It doesn’t matter. Even if it is loathing, your gaze can only remain on me. Master, do not worry. I have plenty of time to wait for you to get used to my presence, to wait for you to understand that in this world, no one else will treat you like this—will love you like this.

He leaned down and pressed a burning kiss onto Qing Feng’an’s forehead, his actions carrying an unquestionable possessiveness. I’ve already had someone bring your sword; it’s hanging by the window. You can practice your swordplay or read books. As long as you do not leave this courtyard or try to run away, I will grant you anything.

But if you dare think of leaving me again… Jin Xianling’s fingertips brushed over the red marks on Qing Feng’an’s neck, his tone suddenly turning cold. I don’t mind using last night’s methods again to make you remember who your master is.

Qing Feng’an closed his eyes and stopped looking at him. Outside the window, the shadows of the bamboo swayed. The morning light filtered through the lattice, casting mottled spots of light on the floor, yet it could not reach the cold frost in his eyes, nor could it dispel the thick, suffocating atmosphere of confinement and obsession in the courtyard.

Seeing that he was no longer resisting, the ruthlessness in Jin Xianling’s eyes faded slightly, and he regained a bit of his gentle demeanor. He got out of bed and tucked the covers around Qing Feng’an, his voice soft. I’ll have the servants bring breakfast. Rest well. Once you’re feeling better, I’ll accompany you for a walk in the courtyard to see the morning scenery of Qihe Peak. Isn’t it more comfortable than your previous life of constant travel?

He turned and walked out the door, his steps light and carrying an irrepressible joy. The door was gently closed, cutting off the morning light outside and severing Qing Feng’an’s last shred of hope.

Qing Feng’an lay on the bed, feeling the soreness of his body and the humiliation in his heart, his fingers slowly clenching. He knew that Jin Xianling’s words were not a threat, but a warning. He could no longer meet force with force; he had to first recover his health and restore his internal energy before searching for an opportunity to escape.

However, looking at the familiar moon-white longsword by the window, a sense of bewilderment filled his heart. This Qihe Peak had once been his place of pure cultivation, but now it had become a cage to imprison him. And the disciple he had once taught everything to and regarded as his own had now become his greatest tribulation.

This togetherness was a dream come true for Jin Xianling, but for him, it was the beginning of a boundless purgatory. He did not know how long this purgatory would last, or if he would ever see the day he could escape.