Buried Beneath the Spring, Bones Turn to Dust, Part 4

The palace attendant’s voice still lingered in the air.

In the corner of Yun Yao’s startled vision, a sleeve embroidered with stone-blue lotus patterns was gently lifted by jade-like fingers, and the newcomer stepped into the hall.

A cool sandalwood fragrance, as if steeped in frost and snow, filled the space.

In a flash, Yun Yao, trapped in her mortal body, had no time for anything else. She kicked the damning booklet under the dressing mirror.

—If the Dragon Lord, ensnared in her scheme, saw what was written, she wouldn’t survive the day.

To cover her move, her skirt embroidered with butterflies and flowers swirled as she turned, leaning lightly against the mirror table, her figure blocking any chance of the Dragon Lord spotting the booklet.
“Your Majesty.”
The frail woman before the mirror bowed softly, her half-loose chignon trembling with a pearl-encrusted dragon hairpin, strands of hair swaying lazily, masking whether she was startled or flustered.

“Lift your head. Look at me.”

His voice, naturally cool and clear, seemed dipped in misty hot springs, laced with a languid warmth.

Drawing on the princess’s temperament from the booklet, Yun Yao mimicked her demeanor with seven or eight parts accuracy, raising her head slowly and softly.

—

From Xiao Kou’s words and the booklet’s contents, Yun Yao had formed a rough image of this unseen Dragon Lord.
He was likely as the rumors described: ancient, with endless longevity, forever languid, unhurried, lying down if he could sit, sitting if he could stand.
Such a person would have a pair of…

Yun Yao froze.

Her preconceived image vanished.

All that filled her mind was a pair of eyes, like an ink-wash painting of mountains and rivers.
As the booklet recorded, they were indeed demonic, lake-blue eyes.

But the color, meant to be cold and solitary, was softened by upturned lashes and a watery gaze, exuding gentle elegance. Especially when she looked up and he looked down, that glance carried a hauntingly familiar feeling—
Through his eyes, she glimpsed Mu Hanyuan.

If she had to describe that gaze, it was… like someone looking at a dog with deep affection?

No, she wasn’t calling herself a dog.

The bridal-clad girl stood dazed, seemingly stunned by the Dragon Lord’s refined appearance, so unlike the rumored grizzled old man.

In truth, Yun Yao was uncertain.
The dragon statue before entering the illusion said Mu Hanyuan should have come with her. So where was he?
Surely not—?

“Days ago, we faced life and death apart, and now you don’t recognize me?” The Dragon Lord sighed softly, stepping closer, naturally moving to pull her into his arms. “I’m Yan Liang.”

…Not him.

Yun Yao’s heart steadied, exhaling inwardly.
This illusion was merciful enough not to pit her against Mu Hanyuan in a deadly clash.

Fortunately, the “pretending not to know the Dragon Lord’s identity” ruse, though part of the princess’s trap, perfectly masked her earlier hesitation.

The bridal girl feigned shock, stepping back to evade his raised hand. “Your Majesty… Yan Liang? How could it be you?”

“If not me, who did you expect?”
A low, husky sigh, almost whispered into her ear.
Before she could react, the tall young man leaned down, his gold-threaded robe sleeve enveloping her, pulling her irresistibly into his embrace. His unfamiliar, overpowering presence sent chills down her neck.

Her heart felt as cold as ice.

—Her soul sensed this Dragon Lord wielded immortal-tier power, likely that of an Eight Directions Divine Lord.
Even her true form would struggle to defeat him, let alone this frail princess’s body. What kind of scheme had this princess devised, daring to challenge such a force with mere mortal strength?
No, this wasn’t shaking a tree—it was shaking the jade pillar of the Celestial Realm.

But if she didn’t follow the princess’s plan, kill the Dragon Lord, and take the Dragon Heart Scale, how could she lead her Qianyuan companions out of that eerie secret realm?

Her thoughts churned chaotically.

“What are you thinking?” The Dragon Lord whispered by her ear.

Yun Yao snapped back, lips pursed, silent.
In this situation, words would only betray her—she’d best stay quiet.

Seeing her silent, lowered gaze, he softened his tone. “Still upset I hid from you? It wasn’t intentional—I hadn’t found the right moment. After your grave injuries, how could I burden you with explanations?”

Yun Yao turned her face away, slipping from his embrace like a fish into a lake. “I’m tired. I wish to rest.”
Her voice carried a hint of resentment, half-angry, half-petulant, her expression hidden in the dusk’s ambiguity. “I wouldn’t dare disturb Your Majesty. Please return early.”

“…”

No sound came from behind. Just as Yun Yao thought he’d left, a low, husky chuckle, strangely bewitching, reached her ears.
Before she could react, her body was lifted—
He’d scooped her up by the waist.

“Then rest,” he said, gathering his robe and lying down beside her, their hair tangling, his chest radiating warmth. “I’ll stay with you.”

Her waist tightened.
She looked down, bewildered—

A golden, feather-scaled dragon tail coiled around her, hooking her in an instant with its sturdy, vibrant strength.

His laughter grew lower, irrepressible, his chest trembling against her.

“Aren’t you tired? Sleep. I’ll stay with you.”

Yun Yao: “…”

She’d have to be blind to mistake this for Mu Hanyuan.
Her disciple, even with one breath left, would never do something as shameless as wrapping her with a tail!

—

Dusk painted the sky with clouds, the vast palace city cloaked in night, like an ink-wash painting brushed with vibrant shades.
As thousands of halls lit their lamps, the Dragon Lord finally left Muyun Hall.

Yun Yao, on the couch, exhaled in relief.

Certain he was far gone, she carefully retrieved the booklet from the floor. But as she moved to reseal it in the box, her gaze sharpened—

She shook the box by her ear.
*Thud, thud-thud.*
A muffled sound came from the “empty” box.

Raising a brow, she held it to the candlelight, discovering a thin hidden compartment at the bottom.

Removing the partition, she found a folded letter.

Unfurling it, she was surprised.
It was addressed: *To Princess Changyong, Personally.*

She opened it.

*Changyong, if you’re reading this, and all has gone as planned, you likely remember nothing.
Don’t panic—this is part of my plan.*

*Who am I?
I am you.
The you before losing memories and emotions, who laid out this entire scheme.*

*Yes, this is my design.
The ancient true dragon clan has but one left—Dragon Lord Yuyan. Blessed by heaven and earth, born from chaos, he’s uniquely favored, isn’t he? Lifespan eternal, heart pure and true, his dragon eyes discerning all good and evil. Thus, this plan’s premise: I must seal “myself,” truly fall for him, to deceive him.
To achieve this, I gathered every detail about him, verifying each one. I studied his preferences, his history, crafting a woman tailored for him—every gesture, every word designed to please him.
With a few “fated encounters,” she was sent to him, to approach, dismantle, and find his fatal weakness.*

*She is the lightest, sharpest blade, to pierce the world’s most impervious dragon scale, revealing his fragile heart.
I know she can do it, because she is me—and you.*

Reading the first page, even by candlelight, Yun Yao felt a chill down her spine.
The princess’s ruthless resolve, using herself as a chess piece, was chillingly admirable.
She folded the first page and turned to the second.

*You must know nothing now, but don’t worry. Like the journal I left, I’ve made all preparations.*

*When the plan unfolds, before the endgame, someone will sever “her” emotions, break her attachments, seal her memories, and turn “her” into you.
This ensures we remain unaffected by those experiences.
And that person will help you kill the Dragon Lord.*

*The ancient true dragon’s greatest weakness will be known to him by the endgame. He’s from the demon clan, their young lord, now disguised as a trusted guard in your escort.
When the time comes, use his strength to complete the plan.*

*But remember, you’re allies of convenience. Don’t rely on him, don’t trust him, and always stay vigilant.*

*No one in this world is trustworthy, not even yourself.*

*To prevent you, amnesiac, from slipping, I’ve listed the true dragon’s traits and preferences on the final page. Memorize them and burn this letter.*

Yun Yao finished, not yet reading the dragon’s preferences, but already struck by the words.

“No one is trustworthy, not even yourself,” she scoffed under the lamp. “No wonder you could erase your own soul’s memories twice… Cutting emotional ties so ruthlessly—Princess, even the Celestial Realm has no one as cold-blooded as you.”

After her quip, she moved to sit by the couch to study the final page, when a sound came from the hall.

“Who’s there!”
Alert, she tucked the letter into her robe.

As she stood and took two steps, all the candles in the hall extinguished.

“—”
Her face changed, instinctively reaching for her hairpin, only to find it empty—she was a soul in this illusion.
Under the secret realm’s restrictions, even her divine sense was barely usable.
Wasn’t this just being a fish on the cutting board?

Though hopeless, she retreated to the darkest inner chamber, regretting dismissing the attendants. Would anyone hear her shout?

Before she could think further, a swift shadow darted across the moonlit floor, rushing toward her.

Yun Yao backed away quickly, but unfamiliar with the hall’s layout, her legs hit a wooden object—she was doomed.

This frail body could only dodge, hoping to avoid the attacker’s edge.

But before she could move, her wrist was seized, yanked toward the figure that closed in instantly.

“Come—”

The word “here” was cut off.
The figure, as if anticipating her move, grabbed her jaw first.

Yun Yao, shocked and furious, nearly unleashed immortal arts.

But at that moment, a low voice with upturned cadence brushed her ear: “Don’t recognize me?”

Yun Yao: “?”
Why does everyone start with that line?

Before her anger flared, he whispered, “I’m your… guard, Your Highness.”

Guard?
…The demon clan’s young lord, disguised as her guard, from the princess’s letter?

Yun Yao raised a brow, ceasing her struggle, nodding lightly.

The long fingers on her jaw loosened. The shadowed figure paused, as if restraining something, then stepped back half a pace.

Odd.
Yun Yao tilted her head but had no time to dwell.

“Even as a fake guard, you should act the part. Do real guards barge in like bandits?” Recalling the princess’s true nature, she adopted her haughty demeanor before this man, her chin lifting coldly.
In the shadows, her lips curved mockingly. “No bow, fine, but such recklessness—are you here to silence me?”

The figure stood in the gloom for a moment.

Moonlight spilled across the floor, his tall shadow lingering before he knelt on one knee.

“—”
Yun Yao started, instinctively stepping back.

But before she could retreat, the kneeling young man seized her wrist, looking up.

His grip held her fast, unyielding.

His inky hair flowed like clouds, moonlight tracing his sharp brows. In the dim haze, Yun Yao glimpsed a thin, fierce line at his eye’s corner, a blood-red demonic mark extending from his long lashes, like a vivid bloodstain on cold white jade.

Yun Yao, startled, opened her mouth.

“…Master, it’s me.”

He lowered his head, chuckling softly, as if to kiss her hand. His voice, rich and magnetic, was both enchanting and self-surrendering.

“I’ve come for you.”