Chapter Seventy-Eight: I Like You

The night was cool as it settled in. Cui Yue exhaled the lingering scent of wine, his hands cradling his head as he leisurely strolled along the corridor path, humming a tune with rare ease and contentment. Rather than living in constant anxiety, he preferred to be carefree and unrestrained—whatever was destined to come would arrive in its own time. The Painted Skin Ghost had been struck a chilling blow, fleeing in panic; its cultivation surely crippled, perhaps needing decades to recover. It might not even return for revenge. If only that bespectacled fellow would hurry and strengthen his spiritual prowess—sooner or later, this lingering threat would be resolved, and Cui Yue could finally sleep soundly.

Suddenly, a shadow flickered through the darkness, the whisper of grass and leaves rustling. The tranquil night, once graced by moonlight and gentle breezes, was now shrouded in dark clouds and biting winds, even the insects had vanished without a trace.

Cui Yue’s senses sharpened instantly. He paused, his eyes scanning behind him surreptitiously, dreading the very thing he feared most—could the Painted Skin Ghost truly be so quick to return at the mere mention of its name?

He dared not linger. His right hand slipped quietly into his coat, gripping the little peachwood sword tightly in his palm, and his steps quickened.

Suddenly—!

A white figure darted out from the nearby grass with a swish.

Hey!

Cui Yue’s heart pounded wildly, his sword nearly swinging out in reflex, slicing only the air.

In front of him stood a young woman in a blue floral dress, her hair braided in a plait, staring in terror at the peachwood sword in Cui Yue’s hand.

“It’s you!” Cui Yue blinked, stunned for two seconds before finally recognizing her. He glared at the girl.

She was none other than Yang Liu.

Yang Liu was supposed to be on night duty, but since nothing was coming out of the materials storeroom, she finished early. Passing by, she saw Cui Yue strolling alone, relaxed and carefree. She intended to greet him, but his reaction was so exaggerated—what a coward.

“Of course it’s me! Who else could it be? What, you’d rather not see me?” Yang Liu pouted, clearly annoyed.

“It’s not like that, I just thought… I saw a ghost…” Cui Yue blurted out, but caught himself before finishing the word, suppressing it with difficulty.

Seeing Yang Liu’s unhappy expression, Cui Yue quickly lowered his raised sword, embarrassed.

Yang Liu eyed him curiously—what was he up to, waving a piece of wood like that, trying to scare someone?

“What… what are you doing here?” Cui Yue, noticing her suspicion and her gaze lingering on the sword, hastily steered the conversation elsewhere, slipping the sword back into his coat.

Yang Liu scoffed inwardly—so, this brat really didn’t want to see her. She’d swallowed her pride to come find him, only to be met with such coldness. She’d be a fool to bother with him again.

Her eyes were fiery, her face flushed with anger. She kicked Cui Yue hard and turned to leave.

Ouch!

Caught off guard, Cui Yue’s shin took the full brunt of her kick. Pain twisted his features—her strength was astonishing, as if she’d overdosed on malted milk as a child; her kick rivaled any man’s.

He stood there, bewildered. How could she change moods so quickly, faster than flipping a page? He hadn’t provoked her in broad daylight, so what was this sudden temper about?

Of course, he wouldn’t dare say any of this to Yang Liu’s face. If she heard, it might not just be a single kick—she could unleash a barrage of deadly blows.

One kick, and the world spun!

Ignoring the pain, Cui Yue hobbled after her, grabbing her arm cautiously.

“Hey, miss, I was wrong. Can we talk nicely? Can’t girls be a little more refined?” he pleaded.

Yang Liu was fuming. She’d been thinking about this brat, hoping to see him quickly, but now that she had, her anger only grew. She wanted nothing more than to kick him again.

“Mind your own business! Say another word and I’ll show you how fierce I can be.” She raised her leg as if to kick him once more.

Cui Yue quickly begged for mercy, admitting defeat—he could not afford to provoke her.

Moonlight spilled softly across Yang Liu’s face, her delicate features glowing with gentle beauty, making her all the more enchanting.

A northern beauty beneath the moon, veiled in gauze, jade features inspiring tenderness.

Cui Yue was transfixed, staring at Yang Liu. How was it that tonight she seemed so sweet? Every smile and frown etched itself deeply into his heart.

Yang Liu, caught in his silent gaze, was about to speak when she noticed her reflection in his eyes. Her cheeks flushed with shyness, warmth spreading across her face. She dropped her gaze, staring at her toes, unable to utter a word.

By the moonlit pond, with nothing but idle time, a lover’s heart is quietly stolen. In this moment, my eyes hold you, your heart holds me, and all else fades away like a breeze. We care not for the past or future, only for this stolen half a lifetime together. Love is like thin ice in the palm—cool to the touch, melting to quench thirst, yet unknowingly leaving wounds that scar the flesh and bone.

“Yang Liu?” Cui Yue murmured softly, gazing at her blue floral dress.

Yang Liu, too shy to lift her head, answered him in a whisper, barely audible.

“Hm?”

“You’re beautiful. I…”

Cui Yue’s heart surged, waves crashing within him. A rush of blood flooded his mind, words swelling in his chest, but stuck in his throat, unable to come out.

Yang Liu’s ears glowed crimson, her hands fiddling nervously with her braid. Her heart raced, joy and anxiety mingling, her hopeful gaze fixed on Cui Yue, longing swirling in her chest.

Cui Yue stared at the girl he’d dreamed of day and night, his face flushed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, yet for a long while he could not utter a single word.

It was the first time in his life he’d experienced such a moment. Though he was usually quick with jokes and banter, now, at the threshold of confessing his feelings, his tongue seemed sealed with wax. A simple sentence felt as distant as mountains, as unreachable as waves—it was stuck in his throat, unspeakable.

“I… I like…” Cui Yue cursed himself inwardly for his cowardice. Normally fearless, now he was timid and hesitant, acting like a bashful girl, unable to get out a single word.

Yang Liu waited anxiously, her almond eyes nearly burning holes through him, her gaze intense and expectant. She could see those words on the tip of his tongue, yet at this critical moment, Cui Yue’s clumsy tongue refused to cooperate.

For a moment, the atmosphere became unbearably awkward. The sweet, budding romance that had filled the air had evaporated.

Yang Liu bit her lip in frustration, her teeth itching. She stomped her foot, longing to grab Cui Yue and give him a sound beating just to vent her anger.

He always acted so confident, but now he was like a tongue-tied fool.

Cui Yue was frantic, so close to breaking through. His face reddened further. Summoning his courage, he finally readied himself to speak.