Chapter 12: Blushing Fire

                                    

Xie Huan stared at Feng Xun, watching the reins of the underworld beast slip through his tall fingers as he walked toward her step by step.

She felt no guilt for secretly hiding a living soul. She simply waited, silent, for him to speak.

Yet when she faced him, she remembered Li Wen’s teachings—smile sweetly, deceive him. She tugged at the corners of her mouth, but no matter how she tried, she could not summon a false expression before Feng Xun.

He lowered his eyes, studying her face. The moment their gazes met, he knew she had learned something new—something he could never teach her, but which was undeniably practical.

“You don’t have to use it on me.” His voice was soft, his smile gentle and sincere, like a youth unscarred by the world.

Xie Huan frowned. Surely he had some spell that pierced her false appearance. She vowed she would one day find a way to break his defenses. The so‑called Ghost King of Fengdu was only another god, albeit a powerful one.

She followed him, mind drifting back to Chu Fengxue—the noisy little princess who had spilled her entire lineage along the way. The youngest daughter of the royal family, surnamed Chu, named Fengxue. From her words, Xie Huan pieced together the truth of her own death.

Miss Xie had been engaged to the prince, her status noble. When Xie Huan devoured the cowardly soul within her, she had obsessed over revenge. Without spells, without plan, she attempted assassination—a foolish act that failed. Punished by the royal family, she was imprisoned, then stabbed to death by 3,600 knives.

Her lips curled. If she had known the truth earlier, she would have chosen a better moment to strike while alive.

Feng Xun walked ahead, sensing the shift in her breath. He knew she was thinking dark thoughts again.

“What were you doing at the inn?” he asked.

“I didn’t go.” The lie was blunt, obvious.

“I saw you jump from the window.” He chuckled, exposing her.

Caught, she raised her brows. “Why should I tell you?”

“I heard you were unwell at the noodle shop a few days ago. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She bristled. “Feng Xun, since you left me in Fengdu, I am no different from the other ghost cultivators. Do you also sneak into their houses at night to see what they’re doing?”

Her sarcasm flowed smoothly now.

“No.” He hesitated, then explained. “I was inspecting the city wall. I met monks and ghosts being extradited. They spoke of you.”

“You’re a liar!” she snapped.

He turned, studied her carefully, and said with quiet seriousness: “There is no deception.”

She remembered then—she was a ghost. She had died long ago.

For the first time, Feng Xun chased her misunderstanding, recounting the words: “They said, ‘The evil ghost girl in your family has an obstacle in her heart. She was fascinated by a mental shadow in the noodle shop and nearly fainted.’”

It sounded true. She slowed, turned coldly. “Fine.”

But Feng Xun recalled the phrasing—the evil ghost girl in your family. He coughed lightly, embarrassed. From the moment he met her, he had acted like a youth still ignorant of love.

Xie Huan tilted up on her toes, studying his reddened cheeks. She touched his face—hot to the touch. Perhaps the Ice Hell had left him burning. He was like fire, selfless and consuming.

He did not stop her. His gaze was calm, soft.

“Blushing,” she murmured, curious. She knew nothing of such reactions.

“Hm.” He caught her wrist, pressing her hand down, throat tight with suppressed emotion.

“What injury did you suffer?”

“None.”

“Then why is it red?”

“I don’t know.”

He truly did not.

“You’re hiding it—is this some forbidden exercise?” she demanded.

Feng Xun sighed, holding her hand, leading her forward to silence her questions.

She poked his back. “If you want to hide it, say so. I’ll ask others.”

To prevent her from spreading tales of the Ghost King blushing, he offered quickly: “If your mood changes, you blush.”

“Why did your mood change? Humans… do you have emotions?”

She knew only hatred, and the fleeting pleasure of success. Was that happiness? She thought she had never felt it.

“You must experience emotions yourself.” He shifted the topic, still holding her hand, guiding her onward.

“If it’s hatred, I feel it always,” she said seriously.

Snow began to fall as the sun set. Feng Xun stopped, turned to her. “Xie Huan, if it is hatred for an enemy, I hope you can end it one day.”

“False!” she retorted. “You locked me in Fengdu. Otherwise I would have returned to the mortal world long ago!”

He laughed softly at her anger, brushed snow from her hair, and patted her head.

“It is my duty to detain you. It is my selfishness to save you.” His smile was gentle, sincere.

Snowflakes landed on his cheek, one settling in the shallow dimple revealed by his smile.

He seemed to laugh often, yet rarely truly smiled. Was Li Wen right—that many of his smiles were only polite disguises?

Xie Huan stared, then reached out blankly, touching the dimple curiously, poking it lightly with her finger.

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