Master, Your Salted Fish Has Arrived - Chapter 46
Liao Tingyan could hear the wild rhythm of her heartbeat. She wasn’t sure if it was the lingering shock from the earlier thunder tribulation, or if it was because of Sima Jiao—the man who made her heart race without permission.
He had just stood against heavenly thunder itself, yet his face still bore that familiar cold, mocking expression. It reminded her of when they first met—aloof, untouchable, and impossible to read.
His finger brushed lightly across her cheek. At first, the touch was soft—gentle, almost tender. But then he smiled faintly and deliberately smeared the blood from his hand onto her face. It was the kind of childish mischief that begged to be scolded.
Liao Tingyan froze, her thoughts collapsing into one line: …You still have the nerve to smile? The little deer in my heart just got run over and died, you know. Hurry up and apologize to it!
The ridiculous act, however, pulled her back to her senses. Her chest steadied, her mind cleared. She caught his wrist and tugged him down to sit on the spot she had tidied up earlier.
“After all that noise, won’t we attract attention? Shouldn’t we leave?”
Sima Jiao lazily flicked the blood from his fingers, wiped the rest against his sleeve, and replied, “Thunder Echoing Valley is special. When a tribulation happens here, the outside world won’t notice.”
He had prepared in advance.
That much was obvious—but what caught Liao Tingyan’s attention more was his complete lack of self-care. He acted like a slovenly young bachelor. With a sigh, she grabbed his hand, cleaned the blood, and began to apply medicine.
He let her, reclining with all the ease of a noblewoman having her nails done, watching her with an almost indulgent calm.
She worked carefully. The wound was deep, still bleeding. Fingers were connected to the heart—just looking at it made her wince. She brought out her best healing salve and wrapped the hand with a talisman designed for recovery.
When she finished, Sima Jiao flexed his fingers in front of her, his lips curving faintly. “Jade Spirit Ointment, Spirit Flesh Talisman… You didn’t carry these before. Stocking up now—seems you prepared them especially for me.”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation, not even looking up.
Her bluntness left him silent.
For a while, neither spoke. Then, frowning, he began to tug at the bandages. “I don’t want this. It’s annoying.”
The sight instantly reminded Liao Tingyan of a cat café she once visited—one stubborn kitten pawing furiously at the little socks its owner had put on its feet. The resemblance was too much.
She burst out laughing.
He froze, narrowing his eyes. “What are you laughing at?”
When she wasn’t agitated, he couldn’t hear her thoughts. So he invoked his truth buff.
“I think you’re cute,” she admitted honestly.
His expression shifted strangely, like he hadn’t heard right. After a pause, he pulled her close and rubbed his blood-stained hand against her face, pressing her cheek into his until she protested.
“Your hand! Don’t use it like that, you’ll tear it open again!”
This time he laughed—soft, amused, mocking. “Do you know why I’m laughing?”
“…How would I know?” she muttered. Not everyone has an innate truth buff skill, you know.
She firmly caught his hand and rebandaged it when he tried again to pull away. He scowled. “I said I don’t want it.”
He might have been hundreds of years old, but in this moment he was no different from a sulky child—untaught, untamed, and long companion only to a snake.
So she softened her voice, coaxing gently, “The medicine’s on. If you don’t bandage it, the wound will split. Just three days, alright?”
His lips pressed tight.
“It hurts me to see you like this. Once it starts healing, we can take it off.”
Still no reply.
She leaned closer, wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her face against him, steadying her voice. “I prepared all this just for you. If you don’t use it, it’s wasted. See? I’ve been wearing the yin-luo necklace you gave me.”
He stared at his own hand for a long moment, then placed it gently on her back.
“…Three days,” he conceded at last.
She nearly laughed aloud.
His cold snicker followed. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re just acting coy.”
But what use was knowing? He still gave in. Even the ancients had said it—pillow talk can move mountains.
Nestled against him, she let her racing heart finally slow. The thunder outside seemed to fade, leaving only his steady heartbeat in her ear. Warmth spread through her chest, soft and steady. Without thinking, she kissed his chin. He lowered his head to kiss her lips in return.
For once, the bloodthirsty tyrant looked utterly smoothed down, his hand resting gently on her back.
He still glanced at his bandaged hands now and then with faint displeasure, holding them stiffly like some over-pampered princess in a costume drama. The resemblance almost made her laugh—but then again, it wasn’t funny. For someone of his cultivation, these wounds should have healed instantly. But Sima Jiao couldn’t.
She remembered the miraculous pill that had once saved him. “What was that made of?” she wondered aloud.
“A secret medicine from Shangyun Buddhist Temple. The only one of its kind. Without the Sima clan’s ties to them, I never would’ve received it. And I’m the last of my clan.”
“…Did I say that out loud?”
“You did.” His gaze held hers, steady and fierce. “And I’ve told you—don’t worry. I won’t die before you.”
She: “…Can’t you phrase that properly?”
Pushing herself up, she frowned. “You specifically chose this valley for me, and before that, you crafted such a strong defensive treasure. You already knew this tribulation wouldn’t be normal, didn’t you?”
But his answer was nothing she’d guessed.
“Because your soul is fused with mine, carrying my aura, you drew the Nine-Nine Thunder Tribulation.”
She blinked. “So I’m basically being treated like a villain? Figures.”
Sima Jiao’s gaze turned sharp. “The Sima clan’s near-extinction is tied to that same so-called Heavenly Way. It wants me erased.”
“Ah.” Collective punishment. Typical. No wonder he’d practically flipped the heavens off earlier.
She recalled the records of the Gengchen Immortal Mansion. “But the histories say many of your clan ascended to become gods.”
Sima Jiao laughed coldly. “The biggest joke in the world. They never ascended anywhere. They burned out, their bodies and souls turning into pure spiritual energy to feed this realm. That’s what ‘ascension’ really is.”
Her jaw dropped. Earth-shattering revelation, and he just drops it like gossip over tea.
The skies rumbled ominously, thunder rolling again.
She quickly covered his mouth. “Enough. I get it. Don’t provoke the heavens any further.”
He pulled her hand away, eyes burning. “Are you afraid? That I’ll drag you down with me?”
“…No,” she said. “I’m just wondering if all my future tribulations will be this terrifying.”
“With me here, you’ll be fine.” His face hardened, hair bristling.
She stroked his head lightly, like smoothing fur. “Then maybe I shouldn’t rush my cultivation at all. Why hurry into more tribulations?”
The joy of legitimately slacking off—it was a relief in itself. Secretly, she cheered: Forget dual cultivation too. That just makes progress faster.
Sima Jiao: “…”
Finally, she asked, “Ancestor, what’s your level now, anyway?”
His answer was calm, almost casual. “If not for the Fengshan Spirit Fire within me, the thunder just now would have pushed me to ascension. And then I, body and soul, would have scattered—just spiritual energy to feed this world.”
She froze. He had already reached that level.