The Young Man’s Return Chapter Thirty-Two: Qingli Appears

“Senior Brother! You…”

At a corner of the long street, Shen Ling hurried over, only to witness the sudden change in the clouds. A bamboo chair descended swiftly from the sky, landing steadily atop his senior brother’s head, pinning him beneath it.

Lying in the bamboo chair was a woman dressed in azure. Her posture was languid and carefree; one leg elegantly crossed over the other. Her feet, as white and flawless as jade, floated lightly in the air, free from a speck of dust. Her toenails were painted a verdant shade, like glistening emeralds, while her slender, alabaster ankles shimmered in the sunlight like a solitary moon in the dark night.

Mmm!

The woman in blue stretched lazily, revealing the most enchanting curve that a woman could possess. It is said by a renowned master that a woman’s most captivating moment is when she first awakens from sleep, and now, she was just that—irresistibly charming.

Yi Heng turned his head away, while Zhe Linfeng, accustomed to such sights, merely scratched his head. Jiang Bai’s eyes were filled with admiration, and Li Shuyao, brimming with awe, bounced excitedly toward the woman in the bamboo chair, calling out, “Sister Qingli, your entrance was so magnificent! Could you take Shuyao flying too?”

The woman in blue smiled brightly. “Shuyao, have you forgotten that last time I took you flying, you got motion sickness and threw up all over me? Are you planning to do that again?”

With that, she opened her arms and embraced Li Shuyao gently.

Pouting, Li Shuyao complained, “Sister, you’re so mean! Why do you always bring up my embarrassing childhood moments? I don’t like it!”

“Oh, little Shuyao’s growing up and even knows how to be shy in front of others now,” the woman teased, lightly tickling Shuyao’s delicate nose with a laugh.

Elsewhere, Yi Heng bowed his back and quietly approached the mount resting by the street.

The woman in blue caressed Shuyao’s black hair with a soft smile, lowering her brows. “Little Hengzi, you haven’t come back for three years, and the moment you see your sister, you’re ready to run off? Do you think I’m some tigress who’ll devour you in one bite?”

Yi Heng forced a smile and slowly turned around. “Not at all! I’m very happy to see Sister Qingli. But, sister, could you please stop calling me Little Hengzi? It sounds like the name of some little palace eunuch.”

That Yi Heng could even remember the woman’s name was a tale of blood and tears. Can you imagine a boy of thirteen or fourteen being hoisted onto a city wall by a woman, his pants pulled down, and getting a sound spanking?

All because the boy had mistakenly called her by the wrong name the first time they met. Though she patiently corrected him at first, after repeating it ten times, she lost her temper, lifted him onto the city wall, and gave him a firm spanking in front of the townsfolk passing beneath the gate.

Many years later, Yi Heng still remembered the sky that day was a bruised purple, matching the marks on his posterior.

Since then, Yi Heng regarded Mo Qingli like the King of Hell—if he didn’t want to die, he’d better escape swiftly.

Yet, like a mischievous ghost, trying to flee this King of Hell was harder than ascending to heaven itself.

Who could blame him? Her cultivation was overwhelmingly powerful—she was the sort who could crush you with a single finger.

Moreover, her moods were capricious, making her inscrutable and unapproachable.

“Little Hengzi, come here. My shoulders are a bit sore; help me rub them,” Mo Qingli beckoned Yi Heng with a dazzling smile.

“Sis, I don’t know how to massage. My hands are rough. Can’t you find that lunatic to do it?” Yi Heng grinned broadly, his demeanor obsequious, the smile on his face almost spilling over.

At this moment, his servile posture, if dressed in eunuch robes, would make him indistinguishable from a sycophantic little palace eunuch—anyone would be reminded of those palace flatterers.

“I like hands that are rough and strong. I don’t want him,” Mo Qingli said disdainfully, casting a glance at Zhe Linfeng standing on the street. “Go find a barber and shave that hair off your head. From afar, you look like a burnt mutt.”

Zhe Linfeng grabbed his singed hair, displeased. “You lazy woman, can you at least say something nice for once?”

“Hah! Is this how you speak to your sister? I’m only standing up for you, and you don’t even say thank you.”

At that moment, beneath the bamboo chair, Kong Yue foamed at the mouth, suppressed by an inexplicable aura. Only his eyes could move, filled with a complex mix of fear, worry, and helplessness.

He had once heard his master warn him never to go to Beigu City for no reason—a place ruled by a cruel woman who delighted in tormenting others. Now, ignoring the advice, he had fallen victim to that very woman and even tried to slay her brother. Thinking of this, he felt a sudden urge to urinate.

Hmph!

“I will avenge my own grievances. I don’t need your help,” Zhe Linfeng snorted coldly, grabbing Yi Heng by the collar and whispering to Jiang Bai, “Brother Jiang, before this lazy woman loses her mind, let’s make a quick escape.”

Mo Qingli’s gaze fixed sharply on Jiang Bai.

He looked quite disheveled, his hair messily tied at the back, strands clinging to his sweat-dampened cheeks.

Yet even so, his outstanding handsomeness could not be concealed; the interplay of light and shadow made his features even more profound.

Mo Qingli narrowed her eyes slightly, a hint of inquiry flashing within, her delicate brows furrowed. “Is your surname Jiang?”

Jiang Bai grew suspicious. The sudden inquiry into his surname carried a probing tone. In this world, those who inquired about one’s family name without reason often had their sights set on the Jiang family. Could she have a connection with his elders?

After some thought, he answered cautiously, “Indeed. Senior, do you know my family elders?”

Mo Qingli scoffed, “It seems the Jiang family is also in decline. To think that the current generation who ventures into the world would be a worthless one. Tsk tsk… quite amusing.”

Jiang Bai did not take offense at her words but replied calmly and with dignity, “In the river of history, no dynasty or family can remain at its peak forever. Even the ancient Great Zhou Dynasty once had immortals, yet it collapsed two thousand years later, swallowed by the currents of time. The Jiang family is but an insignificant clan; how dare we dream of eternal glory.”

“Good, good. You have spirit—your insight is like mine,” she said.

Meeting Mo Qingli’s sharp and wise gaze, Jiang Bai cupped his hands respectfully. “Thank you for your compliment, senior.”

“Since you are a descendant of the Jiang family, I shall offer you a clear path. You need not drown yourself daily in strong liquor to numb the demonic poison within you. Do you wish to know how?” Mo Qingli’s tone was unyielding, commanding.

“May I ask, senior, what must I give in return?”

“When the day comes for you to return to the Jiang family, deliver a message to the Jiang family patriarch.”

Jiang Bai frowned slightly. Few knew that the Jiang family patriarch was still alive; even most of the Jiang family disciples were unaware. He himself had learned of this only by overhearing his father and relatives.

Who was this woman, to know such a secret? What was her connection to the Jiang family? Why was she guarding it for a century? And what exactly was she protecting?

Though riddled with questions, he lifted his head resolutely. “Senior, I will remember your words. If I ever return to the Jiang family, I will surely deliver the message.”

“I, Mo Qingli, have guarded the Jiang family for a hundred years. How do you intend to repay me?”

While toying with Shuyao in her arms, Mo Qingli’s voice turned cold and piercing, carrying the oppressive aura of a superior. It was impossible to discern whether she bore enmity or favor toward the Jiang family.

Such was her nature—ever capricious and unfathomable.

Even Zhe Linfeng, who had been cared for by her since childhood, often found her inscrutable. Sometimes she resembled an innocent child, sometimes a madwoman speaking nonsense, and sometimes a fiercely protective elder. No matter how one viewed her, she was always an enigma, aptly described by the saying, “A heart tangled like a net, thoughts drifting like clouds in March.”

“Senior, I will remember your words. If Jiang Bai ever returns to the Jiang family, I will deliver them to the patriarch.”

With that, Jiang Bai clasped his hands and bowed respectfully, then looked up and inquired, “May I ask, senior, how can I rid myself of the demonic poison afflicting me?”