Beauty in Red

Song Qingshi died.

After dying, he arrived in a strange space. In it floated a sphere that flashed red light erratically.

The sphere said it was a novel-transmigration world system from a higher-dimensional world. An xianxia novel called Peerless Beauty was about to be overwhelmed by readers' resentment over the protagonist shou's tragic fate, throwing its world into disorder. It needed a soul well versed in every sort of novel trope, skilled in matters of romance and sentiment, and adept at adapting to circumstances, to mend the protagonist shou's body and mind and fulfill the readers' wish—to change his fate, cherish him, and let him live the happiest life possible□□□□□□□

The System's transmission came through in fits and starts. The □□ were filled with indecipherable alien gibberish.

Before his death, Song Qingshi had suffered from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis*. Devoted to saving himself through medicine, he had been a medical student who studied and ran experiments furiously every day and never wasted time reading novels.

*T/N: A terminal neurodegenerative disease (ALS).

In matters of love, he was an entirely blank sheet. Though he was very good-looking and mild and obedient by nature, his health problems meant that even the school bully treated him with fatherly love as vast as a mountain, never mind the girls overflowing with motherly affection. Amid everyone's somewhat excessive care, compassion, and sympathy, not only had he never shown the faintest sign of a crush, he had also developed a mild social anxiety and become afraid of speaking to strangers.

He was a soul completely unsuited to the requirements.

Song Qingshi had no idea how the System had chosen him. All he could think was that he had apparently studied Marxist philosophy for nothing. But from that jumbled mess of information and garbled text, he worked out that as long as he accepted the mission, the System would send him into the virtual world of the book, give him a healthy body, and let him live again.

The moment Song Qingshi realized this, he was ecstatic. A healthy body was the wildest desire of his life. The System's mission only required him to take care of someone—something simple. Even if it had asked him to climb mountains of blades and plunge into seas of fire, he would have accepted.

So he suppressed his conscience, gathered his words, and told the first lie of his life: "I've read tens of thousands of books and have a photographic memory. I have extensive medical and nursing knowledge, took psychology as an elective, and can solve every physical and psychological problem caused by the protagonist shou's trauma. And I—I have extensive r-romantic experience, enjoy communicating with people, and can definitely, definitely complete the mission!"

If blood could flow through a soul, his face would already have been scarlet.

The System failed to notice his guilty conscience. It confirmed him as the mission executor and poured strings of garbled text, mixed with all kinds of chaotic, disordered data, into Song Qingshi's mind until his soul throbbed with pain.

Then, without warning, the System gave a shrill alarm. The data transfer cut off. Song Qingshi's vision went black, and his soul drifted toward a point of white light...

...

When Song Qingshi awoke, he found himself lying in a forest, surrounded by the faint fragrance of medicinal herbs. He half-opened his eyes and looked up at a blue sky so brilliant it was almost dazzling. A magnificent golden luan bird, its long tail feathers streaming behind it, gave a clear cry as it glided overhead, followed by countless immortal birds.

Was this the world inside the book?

It was too real...

A breeze passed through the woods, shaking dew from the trees. A droplet landed on his pale fingertip, cool against his skin. Then all the memories of the original body's owner came rushing in like a tide, flooding his mind and trying to merge with his soul—this body was also named Song Qingshi. He was the master of Medicine King Valley and the most gifted immortal physician and medicine maker in the Immortal Realm. His medical arts could bring the dead back to life and restore flesh to bare bones, and the spiritual pills he refined were treasures cultivators fought desperately to obtain.

Yet the original owner had an exceedingly eccentric temperament. He spent all year in Medicine King Valley and rarely went out, made no friends, and cared about nothing beyond medicine and pill refinement. When patients came seeking treatment, he treated them according to his mood, not their status. In a good mood, he would treat even a mortal beggar; in a bad one, anyone who came, highborn or low, would become flower fertilizer for his herb garden. He often tested medicine on living people as well. His methods were cruel, but with Nascent Soul cultivation and all manner of poison arts, the immortal sects did not dare provoke him lightly. They only called him a freak behind his back.

Lifespans in the Immortal Realm were long. Before the original owner's centuries of cultivation knowledge and memories had even finished pouring in, fragments of the System's data came flooding in madly as well, carrying countless garbled characters. They tore the original owner's memories into pieces. Song Qingshi remained dazed for a long while before he barely managed to sort out his current circumstances.

This was Jinfeng Mountain Manor, the most luxurious place in the Immortal Realm. It kept rare beasts and exotic creatures, along with countless beautiful male favorites and lovely concubines.

The manor lord, Jin Feiren, was also a Nascent Soul powerhouse. Amorous by nature and lavish with his money, he had friends throughout both the immortal and demonic paths and was a renowned figure. He had recently acquired a beauty perfectly to his taste and was holding a banquet, inviting every friend who shared his interests. It was said he had also prepared many newly purchased beauties to give away, so guests came in droves.

The original owner had always been cold by nature and obsessed with pills, never touching affairs between men and women. His presence today was an accident. Lord Jin wanted to exchange ten-thousand-year snow ginseng for a batch of pills. The original owner had recently been short of snow ginseng for medicine making, so he agreed to the trade.

Because the snow ginseng grew in the Jin family's snowy-mountain secret realm, it had to be picked and preserved with a special alchemical method to retain its finest medicinal properties. The original owner came here to harvest it himself and happened to arrive during Lord Jin's grand banquet. Wanting to cultivate a relationship with him, Lord Jin invited him again and again and showered him with every kindness until the original owner finally agreed to attend that night's feast. Lord Jin was delighted and repeatedly said he would give him several peerless beauties, including some suitable for use as furnace cauldrons...

Then the System sent Song Qingshi here...

What was a furnace cauldron?

Song Qingshi searched the original owner's memories and found all kinds of pill furnaces and treasure cauldrons, but it still felt wrong. After all, Lord Jin was a sword cultivator. He should not be interested in alchemy...

Song Qingshi wanted to ask the System what was going on, but it seemed to have vanished. The data it had sent him contained no plot and was scant; even the character information came in intermittent, woefully incomplete fragments, and everything was riddled with garbled text. There was not even an introduction to the protagonist shou. Dizzy and confused, Song Qingshi searched through it for ages before finding a few descriptors in the blurb: peerless beauty shou with an exceptional physique X □□□□□ gong, coercive possession, deep love in a tortured relationship, □□, □□, □training.

...

A reader accustomed to system novels would immediately have realized something was wrong with this situation.

But Song Qingshi thought nothing was amiss. He believed the System was setting a problem to test his reasoning and ability to get things done. He was used to being tested. When he and his professors started research on a new drug, they often had no clues at all and had to explore bit by bit through experiments, enduring repeated mistakes and difficulties before reaching an answer—and most of the time, that answer was not even the one they wanted.

Many pharmaceutical companies invested tens or even hundreds of billions in drug research. Scholars spent decades at it until their hair turned white, only to fail even to make it through clinical trials.

Therefore, everyone who worked in drug research was a formidable person, battle-hardened, repeatedly defeated yet repeatedly fighting on.

The question set by Professor System was not difficult!

Top student Song declared himself utterly fearless! He would definitely find the correct answer and not let down his teacher's expectations!

Song Qingshi quickly picked out the key points in the problem: the protagonist shou would appear at the Myriad Beauties Banquet. He was male, attracted to men, a peerless beauty with an exceptional figure, and a pitiable little thing with a tragic fate. Song Qingshi needed to rescue him, give him the greatest care, heal his physical and mental health, and then help him find happiness and joy!

In Song Qingshi's era, respect for sexual orientation was written into the law, and people of the same sex could marry.

He had once picked up a novel dropped by a fujoshi classmate, titled The Evil, Charismatic Prince's Delicate Little Husband. Its cover showed a handsome, domineering man in ancient dress holding a long-haired beauty with an extremely flat chest. He had not understood it, and when he returned the book, he asked curiously. His classmate explained what danmei was and told him the beautiful person on the cover was a man: the pretty one was the shou, and the domineering one was the gong. So Song Qingshi was confident that he could tell a novel's gong and shou apart. There was absolutely no way he would go wildly off course and rescue the protagonist gong instead.

His approach and direction for solving the problem had been set. All that remained was to wait for the Myriad Beauties Banquet to begin the examination.

Song Qingshi's spiritual sea gradually cleared. His soul and body finished merging, and his body became limber. Carefully bracing himself with his hands, he sat up, then took off his shoes, lifted his feet, and tried to wiggle toes that had been stiff for years. His pale, rounded toes bobbed joyfully one by one. Song Qingshi rose unsteadily and took a few steps forward with arms and legs moving in unison. At last, he remembered how a normal person walked, and his movements gradually changed from awkward to nimble...

Soft grass and damp earth lay beneath his feet.

Beyond the woods ran a placid little river. Song Qingshi stepped into the water, scooped up a handful of icy river water, and washed his face, confirming that he was not dreaming.

Tears welled up from sheer joy and fell in great drops into his palms, impossible to stop. The rippling river calmed, reflecting the figure of a youth.

Song Qingshi was amazed to discover that the body the System had given him looked much like he had in high school. He was not especially tall and rather slender. He wore a magical immortal robe woven from layers upon layers of snow-colored cloud brocade, wrapping his body tightly from head to toe. At first glance, he gave the illusion that even his clothes were too heavy for him to bear.

His fine, soft hair was simply tied back, with a few loose strands hanging down. Perhaps due to cultivation, his features were several degrees more exquisite than before. His skin was a cool, pale white, and his eyes were clear. Because he often drifted off while thinking about research, he seemed a little adorably vacant—extremely deceptive, which had led many unfortunate people who believed the original owner harmless to become flower fertilizer in the herb garden or test subjects for poison.

...

After Song Qingshi vented his emotions, he saw the red rims of his eyes in the reflection and felt a little embarrassed. He hurriedly lowered his head to scoop up water, wanting to wash away the tear tracks on his face, when fine bells and a mocking voice sounded behind him.

"Trying to kill yourself is useless. It will only make you suffer for nothing. If you can't accept it, go ahead and try. Sink slowly and see whether you can succeed."

Startled, Song Qingshi turned around and saw a breathtaking sight unlike anything he had ever seen.

Peach blossoms filled the trees. Beneath one stood a beautiful youth in red, who knew how long he had been watching Song Qingshi cry foolishly. The youth's beauty was at its height, like a painting in rich, saturated colors that captured all the world's sensual allure. His skin was like warm jade, but most beautiful of all were the dark-gold phoenix eyes beneath eyelashes black as crow feathers. He ought to have resembled a noble, dignified phoenix of the heavens, yet beneath the outer corner of his left eye was an incomparably vivid red tear mole. It profaned nobility and crushed dignity, pulling the phoenix down into the mortal world and staining it with desire until it became a seductive charm that made hearts itch unbearably.

His long hair was unbound and fell carelessly to his waist, its ends slightly curled. Barefoot, he wore nothing but a red robe woven from merman silk. The merman silk was smooth as water and clung tightly to his body, yet concealed everything beneath it. All it would take was to pull open the golden sash at his waist, and the whole garment would fall away, revealing the sight every man loved most in his dreams.

Song Qingshi had no lustful thoughts, but being caught crying made his social anxiety even worse. He gathered his courage for a long time before stammering, "I—I was only..."

To the beauty in red, his hesitation became an admission.

The Immortal Realm was full of dangerous yao beasts and vicious birds. Cultivators possessed spiritual energy and keen senses; they could easily detect every movement of wind and grass around them. Even a minor cultivator at Foundation Establishment would not fail to hear the footsteps of a mortal accompanied by bells, much less a Nascent Soul cultivator. If they released their divine sense, not even the movements of snakes, insects, rats, and ants across an entire mountain could escape their notice—except for an oddity like Song Qingshi, who had only just transmigrated and was unfamiliar with both spiritual power and the ways of the world...

The beauty in red completely misunderstood. He took Song Qingshi for a mortal too, and in Jinfeng Mountain Manor, a mortal with such beauty had only one use. He asked to confirm it: "A newly arrived slave?"

Song Qingshi looked up in astonishment, unable to understand. He wanted to ask what he meant, but his gaze accidentally fell on the beauty in red's body. There seemed to be some strange injuries there, and unable to resist his curiosity, he secretly looked twice more, trying to determine what they were.

The beauty in red noticed the scrutiny. Displeasure and malice rose in his heart, but he put on an exceedingly gentle smile and said in the sincere tone of someone offering a blessing, "Stop looking. You will have them soon enough."

Song Qingshi had been well protected before his transmigration and had never encountered malice. He did not know how to discern the hidden edge in someone's words. Though the blessing seemed a little strange, he still answered politely, "Thank you."

The beauty in red choked on that answer. He stood frozen for a moment, then looked Song Qingshi up and down as if he were an idiot. He found that the person before him was clean in body, with the innocence found only in eyes untouched by the torment of hell.

That discovery stirred a trace of pity in the heart that had been tempered a thousand times in karmic fire. He withdrew his sharp malice and said softly, "After tonight, you will know that death is a luxury." Turning slightly, he looked at the river flowing with a clear, chiming sound and warned him, "When I first came here, I tried to kill myself many times too, but it was useless. Slaves like us, branded with the Joyous Union Brand, have souls that belong to our masters. So long as the master does not permit it, even death is not ours to choose..."

The beauty in red was silent for a long time. Slowly, he reached out and ruffled Song Qingshi's soft, animal-like wisps of hair.

Song Qingshi saw several red marks on his pale wrist where he had been bound. He realized this was pain the other man did not want questioned, so he swallowed his own doubts.

The beauty in red's fingertips slid from his hair to Song Qingshi's delicate face. He looked at his ignorant expression, lingered for a moment, then lowered his hand in pity. He did not want to say any more, because before someone experienced that endless nightmare for himself, nothing anyone said could help. To preserve that innocence for one moment longer was to preserve happiness for one moment longer. At last, he sighed. "You are very beautiful. What a pity—the more beautiful you are, the later your release will come..."

Song Qingshi did not understand. "What do you mean, release?"

"You will know soon enough." The beauty in red's expression suddenly relaxed. He carefully glanced around, then raised his index finger and lightly touched his lips. In a voice so soft it was nearly inaudible, he answered enigmatically, "Tonight will be my release..."

The beauty in red turned with a smile and walked away to the crisp sound of bells. His steps were unsteady; every one seemed laborious, as though he were a mermaid walking painfully on knife blades.

Below the red robe, a pair of exquisite golden shackles showed at his lovely ankles. A delicate bell hung from each shackle, joined by a slender golden chain. As he walked, the bells swayed gently, making a clear, pleasant sound, like a bird tethered by a leash.

The golden chain dragged across the grass, leaving several drops of blood on the verdant leaves.

Summoning his courage and overcoming his social anxiety, Song Qingshi called after the beauty as he walked away. "Are... are you hurt? I—I know medicine... Do you need me to treat you?"

The beauty in red looked back. After watching him for several seconds, he could not help laughing. This time, the smile finally reached his eyes, like a ray of golden sunlight breaking through the clouds, dazzlingly beautiful. He shook his head at Song Qingshi and gave him a sincere blessing: "I hope your luck will be a little better tonight."

He turned back around. The sunlight in his eyes vanished in an instant, as if it had never existed, leaving behind only clouds that would never disperse.

Having sunk into the nightmare for years, he had long learned not to cling to another person's kindness or care about a fleeting mercy handed out in charity.

Alone, wearing the shackles of pain, he walked one step at a time through his prison and never stopped.