218 The Sound of Rain
Luo Yueguan was dreaming again.
In her dreams, the same repetitive scenes unfolded: moments from her childhood when her mother yanked her hair and slapped her across the face. She bit her lip tightly, determined not to shed another tear; she knew that each tear her mother saw would lead to even harsher punishment. From a young age, she learned to control her emotions, and to this day, it had become second nature to her.
She dreamt of entering the sect, where she faced humiliation and mockery from fellow female disciples who laughed at her mother’s past as a prostitute, derided her for being uncouth and lacking in manners, and slandered her for having knocked on an elder’s door late at night. These rumors echoed in her ears, but this time, within the dream, Luo Yueguan felt an unusual calm. She silently watched everything that had transpired, no longer covering her ears or with red-rimmed eyes.
In her dream, she recalled the Sect Grand Competition where, despite her hard work and dedication, she was easily defeated by a true genius in the final match. The woman wielding a sword looked at her with disdain, whispering in her ear. All of this was merely due to the fact that the man she admired had once shown favor towards her, a pity she never acknowledged. Yet the woman’s hatred was brutal.
She dreamt of descending the mountain and seeing that now-aged woman who ultimately used the new dress she had bought for her to hang herself from the wooden beam.
She revisited all the pain she had endured over the past six hundred years, but this time, she merely observed it all with a faint detachment. At the end of everything, in the pitch-black world, a strong wind seemed to sweep through, and she caught sight of a vague shadow opposite her.
At this moment, a trace of contempt flickered in the corner of her eyes. “Are you done playing?”
She recognized that the figure before her was her inner demon, a creature that thrived on tormenting her with various pains. But now, it seemed she had grown accustomed to it. So she said softly, “Those things are in the past. Whether I have forgiven or forgotten them doesn’t matter anymore. You won’t hurt me again.”
It felt as though her inner demon heard her laughter—an echo coming from the shadow, uncanny and almost like her own.
“Do you really think my existence stems from your pain?”
Luo Yueguan was momentarily stunned. After a moment, the shadow before her transformed into a thick, black mist that rushed toward her. She dipped her head slightly and saw a face emerging from the fog—one that was identical to hers, but with eyes that radiated a sinister mockery.
“You’re mistaken, Luo Yueguan… you have it all wrong.”
The mocking laughter rang in Luo Yueguan’s ears once more. She struggled to open her eyes, finally awakening from the dream. She reached out to touch her skin, finding her forehead already slick with sweat. The dress clung uncomfortably to her. Rising, she made her way to the bathhouse and changed into a fresh set of clothing. As she passed Luo Qingyu’s door, she noticed that the light in her room was still on.
Despite the late hour, the two little ones were still awake.
From Luo Qingyu’s gasping, Luo Yueguan could guess what they were engaged in. She didn’t disturb them, instead returning quietly to her room to reflect on the dream she had just experienced.
The inner demon had been with her for so long, and yet she didn’t understand why it appeared. One day, she had suddenly realized that the Sect Master Luo Yueguan had descended the mountain and slain two hundred evil cultivators, yet she had no recollection of that day. Upon regaining herself, she recognized that her memory had gaps, and it was then that she slowly became aware of her inner demon’s existence and recalled that memory.
In that memory, she had slaughtered those two hundred evil practitioners in a way unimaginable to ordinary people—bodies lay scattered, limbs severed, the ground strewn with blood and gore. Over the years, she had killed many, yet that memory made her feel nauseous. She recalled how her inner demon had demanded that those evil cultivators turn on each other, even requesting that they consume one another’s flesh. She had looked down from on high, satisfaction coursing through her as she watched the brutality unfold.
It seemed her inner demon represented her purest wicked thoughts, which was why she had sought many ways to suppress it over the past few years. Luo Qingyu was one of those methods. At one point, she had considered using Daoist magic to transfer her inner demon into Luo Qingyu, but when she saw the young girl clutching her arm and calling her “Mother,” she suddenly remembered a long-forgotten time in her own childhood when she too sought to please her mother.
Thus, she gave up. Luo Qingyu had truly become her daughter and not just a vessel raised in the courtyard.
Yet, what truly caused the birth of her inner demon? She still couldn’t comprehend… Just reflecting on the recent dream filled her with an indescribable fear, as if that face was inching too close, threatening to merge with her very being.
She clearly thought she had forgotten the pain and abandoned desire; so what had she done wrong?
Luo Yueguan pondered for a long time without arriving at an answer. Meanwhile, in the adjacent room, faint gasping sounds lingered, though they felt different from before. After a moment of hesitation, she closed her eyes, suddenly understanding what was unfolding next door.
Luo Qingyu lay on the bed, her ankles and hands seemingly bound by thin cords, while her soft, snow-white buttocks were being spanked by a man, discomfort flooding her in places that felt inexplicably sore, as if something was wedged inside her.
Luo Qingyu no longer displayed anger; by this time, Luo Yueguan had come to realize the nature of their bond. Rather than describing Jiang Huai as using Luo Qingyu to vent his ruthless desires, it was more accurate to say that Qingyu herself found pleasure in this dynamic and thus clung to Jiang Huai. Sometimes, Luo Yueguan would reflect that this could also be her fault; if she hadn’t educated Luo Qingyu in such a manner, how would Luo Qingyu have developed this inclination for pain?
Feeling the pain emanating from Luo Qingyu’s body, Luo Yueguan bit her lip gently. She suddenly shifted her gaze to the clean, snow-white legs peeking out from under her skirt. Those legs were slender and long, combining the delicateness of a girl with just a hint of a woman’s fullness, smooth and unmarred by scars. Yet, hundreds of years ago, she had relished isolating herself in a room, piercing her legs repeatedly with a gleaming needle, blood gushing forth as she trembled in pain. It seemed that only through such agony could she extract some inexplicable sustenance—those nutrients had given her the strength to continue living.
And her ways of tormenting herself didn’t stop there; she had learned many methods, and the physical injuries were inconsequential. She had even personally ingested a potion created by an evil cultivator, which left her body feeling as though it were being gnawed upon by countless insects. But that pain would rend her flesh, and after it passed, it brought undiluted satisfaction.
She couldn’t pinpoint when this obsession had originated. Perhaps it stemmed from her exercise of the Immaculate Golden Body, a decision she made after having her tendons severed and lying in bed for a month. The resources for cultivating the Immaculate Golden Body came from fighting ferocious beasts in various perilous secret realms and dancing along the edge of life and death. Initially, the training had left her agonized and rolling on the ground, but over time, she grew accustomed to it. Eventually, she quietly achieved perfection in the Immaculate Golden Body. During a secret realm expedition, she killed that woman and fed her corpse to the ferocious beasts that resided there.
After exiting the secret realm and witnessing the frenzied reaction of the woman’s parents, she could almost hear her own mocking laughter deep within.
In contrast, Jiang Huai’s light slaps hardly seemed significant—just enough to make her quiver slightly. Still, she pondered whether she should remind Jiang Huai tomorrow to guide Luo Qingyu toward the right path; if it was merely playful banter, it would be fine, but he must not allow her to fall into the same state as she once had.
Suddenly, Luo Yueguan shuddered as past pains she had inflicted on herself resurfaced in her mind. How intriguing… when had she broken the habit? She found herself struggling to remember; it was as if one day she had simply lost the desire to torment herself, as if that pain was no longer necessary… Yet reflecting on it now, she felt an inexplicable… itch.
It was hard to articulate.
Luo Yueguan reached up to touch her chest, feeling her erratic heartbeat. After a moment’s hesitation, she once again shared sensorium with Luo Qingyu, sensing both a painful and itchy pang; it felt as though her cravings were being quietly soothed. The painful sensations soon faded, leaving her feeling bored. She prepared to sever the shared sensation but suddenly detected a light itch.
So she opened Luo Qingyu’s eyes, finding herself enveloped in a hazy enchantment. She saw that small man kissing her skin inch by inch. Those gentle, slow kisses seemed to dissolve the insatiable cravings deep within her heart. She lay on the bed, her body tingling as if brushed by tiny electric currents, trembling slightly as she drew her feet together.
As she became aware of a dampness, she finally came back to herself, leaning against the bed’s edge only to be astonished at finding the sheets completely soaked through. She felt incredibly weak, never having experienced anything like this before; it was merely her body being kissed inch by inch.
She lay there, gulping for breath until the sensations of satisfaction and fatigue gradually washed over her. She stripped off the dress soaked in sweat and tossed it aside, peacefully closing her eyes and sinking into a deep sleep.
…………………………………
When she awoke, the sound of rain pattered softly around her.
The knocking woke Luo Yueguan. She sat up in bed, wrapping herself tightly in her quilt, her voice lazy and gentle, “Come in.”
Jiang Huai entered, carrying a bowl of dark herbal medicine. Luo Yueguan took one look and turned her gaze away with disdain. Jiang Huai, observing her scrunched nose, sighed. “Just try it, okay?”
“Is it bitter?”
“Not bitter.”
Luo Yueguan, however, was reluctant to rise. She remained propped against the edge of the bed, wrapped in her quilt, her eyes fixed on Jiang Huai. Suddenly, she seemed to lose her train of thought before breaking into a smile. “You feed me.”
For some reason, Jiang Huai often felt that Luo Yueguan was a bit eccentric.
He scooped a spoonful of medicine and brought it to her lips. Luo Yueguan leaned down to taste it; the flavor was reminiscent of light tea, subtly sweet without being overly cloying, much better than the medicine she had tried previously.
“There’s still a hint of bitterness.”
“Well, it is medicine. It’s unavoidable. Just obediently drink it, and afterward, I have candy.” Jiang Huai produced a handful of sweets.
“You talk to me like a child; I don’t like it.”
“Only children act spoiled while asking to be fed, right?”
“I’m not acting spoiled.”
“I can hear it in your tone.”
“Then you have to indulge me?”
“Fine, drink if you want. If not, get lost.”
Jiang Huai had his own ways of dealing with Luo Yueguan’s stubbornness.
