RPAGF Chapter 1038 Fainted
Chapter 1038 Fainted
His voice was low and raspy, like sandpapered wood. "Your eyes are so clear, not like those of a mortal. More like... more like the spring waters deep in Qingqiu, able to see into the depths of a person's heart." He paused, his Adam's apple rolling, and his voice lowered. "But I never thought of hurting you." "Never thought of hurting me?" Lingxi laughed softly, as if she had heard something ridiculous. Her laughter was filled with tears. She suddenly recalled those tender moments: the hot tea he'd warmed her, his fingerprints still on the cup; the sweet cakes he'd bought her, the scent of ink mingling with the sweetness of his sleeves; the poetry he'd read to her by the lamplight, his voice like the sound of a mountain stream, flowing through her desolate heart. Those memories that had once moved her heart now felt like poisoned fragments, piercing her heart one by one. Was it all fake? The people of the Demon Suppression Bureau were supposed to exorcise demons and uphold justice. How could they fall in love with a fox? She recalled the records in the ancient books of Qingqiu. The people of the Demon Suppression Bureau were masters of disguise. They would use gentleness as bait and kindness as shackles. When their prey let down their guard, they would raise their butcher knives without hesitation. "Then why did you save me?" Lingxi stood up suddenly, her knee hitting Shen Yanzhi's chin without her noticing. Her tail lashed out behind her anxiously, rustling as it swept through the scrolls on the ground, as if venting her deep anger and grievance. "Don't you humans hate monsters the most? Don't you think we're all harmful?" "I hate evil monsters." Shen Yanzhi stood up as well. His movements were so fast that they created a gust of wind, causing the flame of the kerosene lamp to shake violently. He reached out and grasped her wrist. The warmth of his palm made her panic, as if it would melt her bones. "Lingxi, you're different." His eyes were too sincere, like the midday sun, so bright that she almost believed again. Lingxi's heart pounded wildly, half with anger, half with lingering reluctance. She stared into Shen Yanzhi's eyes, those same eyes that had once captivated her, now filled with anxiety and sincerity. She was almost mesmerized by that gaze, almost ready to forget the bloody past. But then, the stench of Qingqiu's blood suddenly exploded in her nostrils. It was a mixture of rust and decay, like that bloody dusk three years ago—men in black, bat-capped capes, stormed the borders of Qingqiu, chains glowing green in their hands, their laughter filled with cruel glee as they dragged her people away one by one. She would never forget the look in her mother's eyes as the chains pierced her body to protect her, the sight of her snow-white fox fur stained red with blood, and the same ink bamboo mark carved into the wrists of those men in black! "Let me go!" Lingxi struggled violently, her sharp claws flaring out uncontrollably, slicing through the back of his hand. Three deep bloodstains immediately emerged, and blood dripped down his fingertips and landed on the scroll on the ground, blooming into dark red flowers. "I never want to see you again!" She turned and ran out, her tail swinging angrily behind her, knocking over the inkstone on the corner of the table. The ink splashed out and splashed on the white rice paper, like an indissoluble dark cloud. When Lingxi rushed out of the study, the sky was turning pale, and the faint morning light was like a layer of gauze, covering the sleeping town. In the morning mist, she looked back at the lighted cottage, and the motionless figure of Shen Yanzhi was reflected on the window paper. The tears finally couldn't help rolling down, sliding down her cheeks into her mouth, bitter and astringent. It turns out that human emotions are really strange. When they are sweet, they are like the osmanthus cake she made by herself, soft, sweet, and sweet to the heart; but when they are bitter, they are like the ice in the cold pond, cold and hard, and can freeze bones. Shen Yanzhi stood at the door of the study, watching Lingxi's figure disappear in the mist, like a drop of ink melting into clear water. The wound on the back of his hand was still bleeding, but he didn't feel any pain. Only the area of his heart seemed to be hollowed out, and the cold wind was blowing in. He raised his hand and looked at the three clear claw marks on the back of his hand. Blood was still oozing out. This wound reminded him of the first time Lingxi helped him grind ink. She held the ink stick clumsily, and her long hair fell on the pages of the book like a piece of black silk. At that time, her eyes were full of curiosity and ignorance, like a newborn kitten. Shen Yanzhi took out a jade pendant from his sleeve. The jade pendant was made of the finest mutton-fat white jade, and it shone coldly in the morning light. The front of the jade pendant was engraved with the three words "Zhen Yao Si", and on the back was a lifelike ink bamboo, exactly the same as the birthmark on his wrist. Three years ago, he was ordered to lurk in this small town, his mission to track down the Qingqiu Fox Clan and seize the opportunity to wipe out the demons that were "terrorizing the human world." He had assumed he would be as calm, decisive, and emotionless as he had been on other missions. But he hadn't expected to fall prey to a fox, naive and ignorant. He remembered the first time he saw her in the alley. She looked like a lost deer, her eyes filled with panic, the sweet osmanthus cake in her arms tumbling to the ground, emitting a sweet fragrance. He remembered the focused look in her eyes as she listened to his poetry, the satisfied smile on her face as she ate the cake, the shyness as a blush spread across the tips of her ears. These images flooded back at him like a tide, overwhelming him. Shen Yanzhi clenched the jade pendant, his knuckles white from the pressure. The sharp edges of the jade pendant pricked his palm, but he seemed oblivious. He simply stared in the direction where Lingxi had disappeared, his eyes filled with endless regret and confusion. The morning mist gradually dissipated, and sunlight filtered through the clouds, illuminating the bluestone slabs of the study, casting a dazzling light. Shen Yanzhi stood in the doorway, like a statue. Only after the blood on the back of his hand solidified into a dark red did he slowly turn and return to the study where Lingxi was no longer seen. On the desk, the wolf-hair brush Lingxi had used lay beside the inkstone, a smudge of ink still stained the tip. On the couch in the corner, the quilt she had used lay folded, its delicate scent of plants still lingering on it. Shen Yanzhi walked over to the couch, picked up the quilt, and cradled it in his arms, as if he could still feel her lingering warmth. He knew that from the moment he decided to protect Lingxi, he had violated the duties of the Demon Suppression Division. But he had no regrets; if he had the chance to do it all over again, he would make the same choice. He hadn't expected the truth to be revealed in such a cruel way, and he hadn't expected to cause Lingxi such deep pain. Shen Yanzhi replaced the jade pendant in his sleeve, walked to the desk, and spread out a piece of rice paper. He picked up the wolf-hair brush, dipped it in ink, but didn't put it down for a long time. He wanted to write something, but found that thousands of words were stuck in his throat.