clergé

Chapitre 38

He ordered his maid to fetch water and prepare clothes, and Pang Wan was confined to a small space of about ten feet square, unable to move.

"Stinky and filthy." He Qinglu gave her a disgusted look. "You are only allowed to stay in this place. Don't make a mess of anything else. After you leave, someone will perfume and clean this room."

Pang Wan was already shaken, and now that He Qinglu was criticizing and scolding her, she felt wronged.

It was early summer, and she was only wearing a thin pink dress with a beige silk blouse over it. When she swam ashore, she had been careful not to use her inner strength to dry herself, and later the silk blouse had been torn off to defend against hidden weapons. Now, she was only wearing a wet dress covering her torso. Half of her white, lotus-root-like arms were exposed, and a gust of wind could send a chill down her spine. To make matters worse, that scoundrel He Qinglu insisted that she stand by the window and not move, saying it was to help her dissipate her energy.

"Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!" Pang Wan sneezed three times in a row.

He Qinglu didn't even glance at her, calmly took out a mask from the drawer, put it on, and continued fiddling with the mechanism.

Pang Wan was devastated—this man truly has absolutely no sense of chivalry!

"Young Master He, could you please close the window?" she asked timidly.

“No.” He Qinglu didn’t even look up. “I need enough light to see these things clearly.”

Pang Wan stopped talking, silently cursing the guy a hundred thousand times in her heart—if she hadn't asked him to save face for her, she wouldn't have been so obsequious! If it were her usual personality in the Demonic Sect, she would have slapped him a few times across the face long ago!

Thinking of the Demonic Sect, she thought of Aunt Rong, who pampered, protected, and loved her, and of the Holy Maiden's life of being domineering and powerful (?). She couldn't help but feel sad and her eyes reddened, and a drop of crystal light condensed on her eyelashes.

The sadness was overwhelming, and she began to bite her lower lip and sob softly, with occasional faint noises reaching He Qinglu's ears.

The young master's brows furrowed deeply—it was clearly the girl who had made the mistake first, and he hadn't even questioned her yet, so why was she acting like she had suffered a great injustice? It seemed his master was right; women were the most troublesome and unreasonable creatures in the world.

Turning around, I saw the girl shivering with her arms wrapped around her shoulders. Her lips were bluish-purple, her face was flushed, and goosebumps had appeared on her once smooth skin. She looked pitiful, as if someone was bullying her.

He Qinglu suddenly felt a headache, took off his mask, stood up, took one of his own cloaks, and handed it over.

Pang Wan was overjoyed and was about to look up to thank him when she saw He Qinglu looking at her with a constipated expression as if she had endured a great humiliation, saying, "The cloak is a gift for you. Burn it after you're done using it. Don't do anything foolish like washing, ironing, or returning it! And absolutely do not put it under your pillow!"

Pang Wan trembled all over.

After a long while, she took the robe and draped it over herself, saying softly, "Okay."

After waiting a while longer, the maid still hadn't returned. Pang Wan, unable to bear the eerie emptiness of the room any longer, broke the silence by speaking first.

"Does the young master enjoy giving facials?" She was wrapped in a huge cloak, with only her dirty face showing, and curiously observed He Qinglu's every move.

"I wouldn't say I like it, but getting facials is quite interesting." He Qinglu was holding a soft brush and lightly brushing a small, milky-white, bone-like object in her hand, her expression extremely focused.

"What's so interesting about it?" Pang Wan didn't understand; she actually found facials terrifying.

"Don't you find it interesting to gradually turn something fake into something real?"

He Qinglu squinted and blew a breath into her hand, and the originally milky white object suddenly became crystal clear.

Pang Wan stared in astonishment, and after a long while, he awkwardly said, "Young master seems to be an immortal who knows magic!" This was purely flattery.

“You’re quite like a toad in a lotus pond,” He Qinglu raised an eyebrow. “You croak so loudly it’s driving me crazy.”

Pang Wan choked up; at this moment, even phrases like "heart-wrenching" or "utterly devastated" could not adequately describe the trauma she had suffered.

"Since your skills in making faces are so superb, is there any way to distinguish which faces are fake and which are real?" Constantly reminding herself to suppress all bloodlust, she tried her best to calm her breathing.

“Of course I can see that,” He Qinglu replied without hesitation. “It’s just a bit more difficult for you ordinary people.”

Pang Wan was once again struck by the words "you ordinary people" and felt dizzy.

"Isn't it just checking if there's any hair growing?" she sneered, trying her best to regain the upper hand. "I remember you said before that the face you made wouldn't have any hair."

He Qinglu shook her head: "A flawless fake face requires even the finest hairs to be glued on one by one. Although it is extremely time-consuming, I have made this kind of face before."

Pang Wan remembered that he had said it would take three to five years to get a perfect face, and she believed him.

"Isn't there any way to tell the difference between a real face and a fake face?" She was extremely curious. Could it be that He Qinglu's skills had reached an unbelievable level?

“There’s a very simple way,” He Qinglu smiled slightly, “test the temperature.”

“No matter how thin or translucent the fake face is, it is still made of a special material and cannot sense heat. If you pay attention and test it, you will know that the fake face is always cold.” He said this slowly, and then sighed with regret, “For ten years I have been searching for a material that can sense heat, but unfortunately, I have never found one.”

Pang Wan listened intently, gazing at He Qinglu's jade-like profile, a vague thought welling up in her mind.

—He's so good-looking, could his face be surgically enhanced?

Thinking this, my hand unconsciously reached forward.

"If you dare touch my face with your filthy hands, you'll lose both your arms today!"

A chilling, bone-piercing sound rang out. He Qinglu stared at Pang Wan, a sharp killing intent flashing in her eyes.

Pang Wan's hand froze in mid-air.

So far, she has suffered far more dislike and cold words from this young master than in the previous five years combined, and Pang Wan finally laughed in anger.

"Young Master He!" she called out tenderly, using the "singing like a nightingale" technique from her seductive arts.

"What brings you here?" He Qinglu frowned as she stared at her, her lips pressed tightly together.

"I just wanted to remind you that the can of paint fell on the floor." Pang Wan pouted her red lips, speaking in a coquettish voice.

He Qinglu subconsciously looked down at the ground. In that split second, Pang Wan suddenly leaped up and pounced on him, pressing down on his arms with both hands, while simultaneously raising her cat-like face and quickly rubbing it against his cheek.

He Qinglu was shocked and looked up to grab her, but the beauty in his arms jumped out first and stood gracefully by the door.

“You only said I can’t touch it with my hands, but you didn’t say I can’t touch it with my face!” Pang Wan looked at him, smiling playfully and brightly. “I can’t give you my arm.”

He Qinglu stared at her with hawk-like eyes, his back trembled slightly, and a sense of fierceness seemed to emanate from his body.