Chapter Sixty-Two: Exquisite and Astonishing

I laid Wang Ying gently on the bed before picking up the Soul Urn. I had to move it to the west wing—there were some things that must not be seen by outsiders. After putting the Soul Urn down, I remembered that Xuan Li was still in my pocket. How careless of me. I wasn’t sure if Shangguan Wan’er had overheard anything, but I was certain Xuan Li had. I took Xuan Li out; he squinted his eyes, looking half-asleep. Whether he was pretending or not, I didn’t care—I had to put him away.

Once Xuan Li was inside the Soul Urn, I hurried back to my own room. Wang Ying sat there, her face tender, her hair slightly tousled, a sight that filled me with ache and affection.

I couldn’t hold back. I climbed onto the bed and wrapped my arms around her.

“Da Chuan, I hold grudges, you know. If you have me tonight, I won’t ever allow you to want another woman,” Wang Ying whispered softly in my embrace.

“I won’t. Don’t worry, you’re the only one I want in this life.” Holding her delicate frame, my heart soared.

“No, I still can’t give myself to you,” Wang Ying caught my wandering hand.

“Ah, my wife, what now?” I was at my limit. If she insisted any further, I might die from the longing.

Wang Ying’s face was full of grievance. She held one of my hands, while the other she pressed protectively over herself. I sighed inwardly. If she truly didn’t want this, so be it. She was a woman—I should cherish her feelings. Loving someone, whether human or ghost, can’t just be about possession.

“Da Chuan, it’s not that I don’t want to, I’m just petty. If I give myself to you, I don’t want you to have anyone else. But in seven days, I’ll be a ghost, and you’ll still be alive. If I force you to stay with me, I’d only be hurting you. I can’t even give you a child,” Wang Ying murmured.

“My dear, don’t say that. I’ve told you, I’ll only marry you in this life—whether you’re living or dead, it makes no difference. I’ll search for the Blood Linglong recipe for you. If I succeed, we’ll be together in this world; if not, then our love will transcend life and death. I’ll use my blood to keep you by my side forever.” I wasn’t feverish—this was truly how I felt. Wang Ying, human or ghost, was the one I adored.

She laughed through her tears, and I knew her heart was torn. I didn’t dare touch her, only gently wiped her tears away.

“All right. I suppose I’m lucky to have met you. Tonight, I want you to be my true husband,” she said, unzipping her dress with trembling hands.

It was beautiful.

It was breathtaking.

I had no words to describe it. I’d never seen another woman’s body before—only glimpses of Japanese girls in risqué magazines. But Wang Ying’s beauty eclipsed them a thousandfold, a myriad times over. Her form was perfect, her curves exquisitely shaped, her skin radiant under the soft light. Her belly lay smooth and unblemished, her navel deep enough to hide a pearl. Below, the sparse down signaled her youth.

“Rogue, what are you doing? Are you going to embarrass me to death?” Just as I was lost in awe, Wang Ying’s rosy lips trembled as she spoke.

“I…” I had no words. I lunged and embraced her once more. This time, she was like a flame. For the first time since I’d known her, her body felt truly warm.

Though shy, Wang Ying was surprisingly bold, helping me undress before turning off the light herself.

That night, I barely slept. We fumbled through our first experience together—neither of us had any experience, but love bridged our awkwardness. Once, twice, thrice—we were young, and I found unexpected stamina. Eventually, Wang Ying was exhausted, pleading for mercy before I finally stopped.

We didn’t sleep much. Dawn crept in as I looked at the marks left on her body—my heart ached for her, realizing we’d gone too far. I held her and said, “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Wang Ying blushed and replied, “You say you’re inexperienced, but you were amazing. If you had experience, would I even survive?” I kissed her cheek, apologizing again. “Next time, I’ll be gentler.”

She snuggled into my arms. “Don’t you dare! Next time, I want it just like this. It hurt a little, but I liked it.”

We dozed for a while before getting up. It would be awkward if Wei Qi came knocking. Wang Ying stripped the bedsheet, intending to wash it, but I took it from her when I saw the delicate crimson stains—a memory of her seven days returned to me. I folded the sheet carefully.

“Husband, give it to me—I’ll wash it,” Wang Ying reached for the sheet.

“No, let’s keep it.”

She seemed to understand and didn’t insist. Smoothing her hair, she said, “You must be tired. I’ll go make breakfast.”

I pulled her back. “No, today I want to cook for you. In fact, I’ll cook for you every day you’re here.” Her days in the mortal world were few—I wanted to serve her well, to be a worthy husband.

“I’m not that delicate. Go rest a bit—I have something to tell you after,” Wang Ying said sweetly, pushing me onto the bed.

I lay down, the softness of the mattress and the memory of her breath still fresh in my ears. My heart was heavy. If only she could remain human forever.

No matter what, I had to find the recipe for Blood Linglong. I wanted to bring her back to life.

I didn’t sleep. Hearing Wang Ying moving around outside, I got up and went to the kitchen, where she was making breakfast. I hugged her from behind.

“Husband, what are you doing? Aren’t you being a bit sentimental?” Wang Ying turned, her face pale with exhaustion but still adorably charming.

“Heh, I want you again.” Honestly, I didn’t, but I wanted to tease her.

“Not now, it’s daytime!” she stammered, flustered.

I quickly assured her I was only joking and would wait for nightfall. Wang Ying sighed, then pulled over a small stool for me. I sat and watched her as she cooked—she was enchanting even as she worked, the picture of grace.

“Da Chuan, there are two things I want to talk to you about,” she said as she cooked.

“Go ahead, your husband is all ears.”

“First, I’ve thought it over—I can’t restrict your freedom. I’m a ghost, you’re alive. If you want, you can find another wife, as long as you don’t forget me. After I die, I’ll still need your blood to sustain me.” Wang Ying’s voice was calm, with no trace of jest.

“Are you testing me? I’ve told you—I won’t marry anyone else in this life. You’re the only woman for me, alive or dead.” I meant it—there was no rashness in my heart. With a girl like Wang Ying, whether human or ghost, I had no reason to seek anyone else.

Wang Ying gave a bitter smile. “Don’t be so quick to decide. I’m just saying, if you ever change your mind, I won’t stop you.”

I shook my head firmly. “Never. My heart belongs only to you.”

She smiled again, leaned in, and kissed my cheek. “Darling, I love you so much.”

“Wife, wasn’t there something else you wanted to say?”

“Da Chuan, I want to ask you—should I go home to see my grandparents? After my dad’s accident, then my own, I don’t know how they’re doing. But if I see them, I can’t take care of them forever. Would it be too cruel to only visit and then leave?” As she mentioned her family, Wang Ying’s face grew sorrowful.