Chapter 7: Wanting Xue Youtan’s Attention

Chapter 7: Craving Xue Youtan's Attention

It looked like a mark left from pressing against something hard while asleep.

The red mark stood out against Xue Youtan's pale complexion, like a plum blossom falling into snow—rather than detracting from his elegance, it only added to his allure.

Pei Zhi found himself staring at that spot for several seconds. By the time he snapped out of it, Xue Youtan had already lowered the bed curtain and lain back down. Seeing this, Pei Zhi turned to leave, but Xue Youtan's voice suddenly came from inside the room: "Come in."

A flicker of confusion crossed Pei Zhi's eyes, but he stepped into the room anyway.

Xue Youtan was still lying on the bed, only his head was now pointing the other way.

He lay crosswise on the bed, his head facing the edge, his long black hair spilling down like a waterfall, a portion of it pooling on the floor.

Still half-asleep, the man on the bed didn't open his eyes as he gave the order, "Hurry up with my hair."

In his past life, Xue Youtan had died young, but he hadn't exactly suffered before the end. Not only were his meals, lodging, and travel all handled for him, even the hassle of tying his hair was taken care of by a personal servant.

Because after the twelfth time he'd walked through the mountain gate with a messy, lopsided bun, Feng Mingjue had assigned him a diligent servant whose sole job was to do his hair.

And honestly, that servant was hopeless at cultivation, but when it came to combing hair, he was fast and flawless. So whenever he had to rush off to teach, he'd laze in bed like this, letting the servant fix his hair before he got up. It saved time and bought him a few extra minutes of sleep.

Still foggy with sleep, he instinctively assumed the servant was there.

When he spoke and felt nothing happening, Xue Youtan figured the servant was hunting for a hairpin, so he handed over the white jade one that had fallen onto the bed.

Pei Zhi took the hairpin and crouched down as told, his slender fingers threading through Xue Youtan's loose hair.

The hair in his hands was silky and smooth, carrying a faint hint of sandalwood. But Pei Zhi's focus was elsewhere.

He stared at the sharp tip of the jade hairpin, his gaze landing on the pulse point at Xue Youtan's neck.

If he struck now, he was confident he could drive it clean through Xue Youtan's throat.

But he didn't dare take that gamble.

Before joining Cangya Mountain, he'd heard that all three Altar Masters had reached the Spirit Transformation stage—basically half-immortals. Immortals had life-bound swords that protected their masters. If he missed, he'd face the contempt of the entire sect.

Besides, dying like that would be too easy for him.

While Pei Zhi was lost in thought, his hands had already worked the hair into a bun just like yesterday's style, sliding the jade hairpin into place.

"All done, Master."

His fever had broken last night, but Pei Zhi's voice was still hoarse, rough and grating when he spoke.

"Mm." Xue Youtan grunted in acknowledgment, then immediately felt something was wrong.

Why does this voice sound so familiar? It's not the servant—it sounds like the voice from last night's nightmares.

It's Pei Zhi!!!

Xue Youtan's eyes flew open, and there was Pei Zhi's face, that faint, knowing smile, right in front of him.

Xue Youtan jolted in shock, instantly wide awake.

What the hell had he just done? An NPC like him actually dared to order the male lead around like a servant—was he asking for a death sentence?

Xue Youtan scrambled off the bed in a flash, turning his back to throw on his outer robe. When he turned back, his face had already settled back into the cold, aloof mask of the immortal master he usually was.

To cover up the embarrassment of mistaking him for someone else, Xue Youtan asked a question he already knew the answer to, trying to change the subject: "Why are you here?"

"Senior Brother sent me to fetch Master for the lecture," Pei Zhi said, then added, "And then Master asked me to come in and fix your hair. So, how does Master find this disciple's handiwork?"

And right back to that topic.

This kid really knows how to talk—bringing up the one thing that's most awkward.

Xue Youtan cleared his throat, said nothing, and swept his robe aside as he walked out first.

When Pei Zhi showed up in front of everyone completely unharmed, Xiao Yiheng was stunned. Wasn't the last guy who woke Xue Youtan from his nap publicly stripped of his cultivation and thrown into the firewood room? So why was Pei Zhi still fine?

This outcome made it hard for Xiao Yiheng to save face in front of Li Luoshu, but with Xue Youtan right there, he couldn't confront Pei Zhi on the spot. All he could do was shoot Pei Zhi a vicious glare.

Pei Zhi stood at the back of the crowd, completely ignoring Xiao Yiheng's glare. He watched Xue Youtan on the platform, holding a thin branch as he started teaching sword forms, and for some reason, his mind wandered back to that red mark on his collarbone.

His skin was so sensitive that even a hairpin pressing down left a red mark. If a branch hit him anywhere else, it would probably leave the same kind of mark.

Startled by the thought that had popped into his head, Pei Zhi snapped out of it and quickly looked away. Just as he was about to get back to practicing, the branch in his hand was knocked flying by a sudden strike.

He followed the trajectory and saw Li Luoshu holding his branch, charging at him. "Junior Fellow Pei, come spar with me."

Pei Zhi had no interest in dealing with a lowlife like Li Luoshu, who used hidden weapons to cheat during sparring.

He bent down to pick up his branch, planning to back off and find a more open spot to keep practicing on his own. But Li Luoshu, emboldened by Xiao Yiheng's backing, didn't give a damn about him. The more Pei Zhi backed down, the more Li Luoshu thought he was a pushover. When Pei Zhi didn't answer, Li Luoshu just swung straight at his face.

Xue Youtan was still sitting at the lectern, having just turned to take a sip of tea, when Pei Zhi got into a fight.

As expected of the male lead—a show-off wherever he goes.

Perfect. Let him see just how far Pei Zhi's skills had come. So he poured fuel on the fire and shouted, "In sparring, no need to stop at first touch. As long as they're not dead, fight like you mean it. None of my disciples—Xue Youtan's disciples—are gonna be cowards."

Li Luoshu's every move was lethal. Pei Zhi didn't want to hurt anyone, so he just defended, never attacking. But at Xue Youtan's words, he twisted his wrist, and the branch in his hand spun into a graceful sword flourish like a real blade, driving Li Luoshu back step by step.

Li Luoshu couldn't hold his ground. As he backed up, his foot caught on a step and he stumbled to the ground. When he looked up, Pei Zhi's branch was already at his throat.

"You lost." Pei Zhi said it without even bothering to look at Li Luoshu.

He looked at Xue Youtan, as if hoping for a word of praise for his win.

But there was nothing.

Xue Youtan barely glanced at him before turning to Li Luoshu. Pei Zhi heard him say, "Well done. You lost, but your courage is commendable. Win it back next time."

And to him—the winner—nothing at all.

No praise. No concern. Not even a word of criticism.

Pei Zhi might as well have been invisible, completely ignored by Xue Youtan.

He stood frozen, his hand slowly lowering the branch to his side, his face dark with resentment.

Something unfamiliar stirred in his chest—a desperate need for Xue Youtan's attention took over his mind, burning even hotter than his original desire to see Xue Youtan dead.