Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Years ago, on a random day Qiu Jianlie died. 

And morning of the very next day, Xiao-Jiu was free.

The lord of the house was found in his rooms, body skeletal, as if his flesh had been drained out. The servants who found him were understandably…upset. Naturally the Qiu estate had tried to keep the news contained, and so, everyone in town knew all about it by noon. 

As far as the vast majority of residents in Qiu manor were concerned however, the morning was off to a wonderful start. The son did take after the father after all.

Soon it became clear that said son was in over his head. Especially since the Qiu were facing financial difficulties for the last few months. Crops mysteriously failing right before harvest, warehouses getting robbed…and then all the goods caravans sent out to the city were found ransacked midway. Even though protection was hired after that incident-from mercenaries to rogue cultivators to security from a minor sect-the attacks kept happening. Qiu Jianlie had been apoplectic, and as usual took his rage out on the rest of the household. When he finally decided to contact a major sect about the issue, ranting and raving about demons and whatnot when it was most likely the work of some clever bandits, they stopped abruptly.

After close to a fortnight of no hostile activity, everyone thought that would be the end of it. Whatever bandit group was out there helping themselves to the Qiu wealth had probably moved on from the area. Sighs of relief were exchanged. Sleep came easy. At least now Qiu Jianlie will calm down, they all thought.

As it turned out, he did indeed calm down…permanently…due to death.

He was also dead in a way no mortal thief could have ever managed. So maybe there really was some truth to his crazed rantings after all.

Qiu Jianluo had, of course, panicked. He had no idea where to start. The only saving grace for the newly minted Qiu patriarch was that all the money-grubbing relatives lived too far away to come and offer their ‘condolences’. 

Pity. A-Jiu thinks he would’ve enjoyed that spectacle.

Unfortunately for him though, he couldn’t milk his well hidden vindictive glee beyond the early hours of the day when everyone was running around like headless chickens to pay attention to the slave boy. A paranoid Qiu Jianluo made sure to keep Qiu Haitang with him, and the frightened Qiu Haitang kept A-Jiu with her. Which meant that A-Jiu now had to spend an extended amount of time in close proximity to Qiu Jianluo. The fact that with Qiu Haitang near he wouldn’t be subject to Qiu Jianluo taking out his frustrations on him was cold comfort. When Chen Mei walked in with tea for Qiu Haitang with her left eye bandaged and bruises blooming across her face, just an hour after one of Qiu Jianluo’s rage induced walkouts, he knew it was only a matter of time before the elder Qiu would ‘sweetly’ ask his help for something and lead him out of the room. He braced himself for it.

Then that horrid Li Min rushed in. And it turned out that for once he actually had something important to say.

Apparently a group of cultivators from the illustrious Cang Qiong Mountain Sect had just arrived in town and were staying at the local inn. From the gossip around town, they were going to be here for a day and half at the very least, resting before continuing on towards Maogang Cheng . On hearing this Qiu Jianluo immediately set out to the inn. Between being away from Qiu manor at such a delicate time and traveling to a sect to ask for help-which they might not even provide mind you-and requesting assistance from the cultivators of the great Cang Qiong whose miraculous arrival in town might just as well be the will of the heavens…it really wasn’t that difficult a choice to make.

A-Jiu just continued to console Qiu Haitang, taking the time to carefully think about his future. One thing he knew for sure was that things were about to get worse for him. Qiu Jianluo was now Lord Qiu. He had complete control over the Qiu estate. The previous Lord Qiu did not care to curb his son’s cruelty, he was cruel to the servants himself, but he also did not care much for the slave his daughter toted around, and in this apathy was a certain security. Qiu Jianluo undoubtedly had many plans he wanted to enact with regards to A-Jiu, but with his father closely monitoring his education, and in the way he would never permit his heir to leave his duties to go play games with a worthless slave, A-Jiu had managed to scrounge together some breathing space. Now even that brief respite would be no more.

He had to get out of here. These coming weeks where Qiu Jianluo was struggling with his new responsibilities was the best moment to escape. If he didn’t take this chance, he would never be able to. Several servants were let go and slaves sold when the household started to face monetary issues but Qiu Jianluo hadn’t let go of A-Jiu even when those who had served the estate for decades were told to leave. That man truly intended to keep A-Jiu here till he finally put him out of his misery. But he wasn’t about to roll over and let that happen. A-Jiu refused to die in this accursed manor.

So he hunkered down and plotted. He already had several plans in the works for his escape. The new events simply meant that he had to move up his timeline by a considerable margin. He briefly thought about appealing to the cultivators but quickly discarded that plan. If A-Jiu was to finally get away from this wretched place, he’ll have to claw his way out himself. And that way, he would be beholden to no one. 

Time passed sluggishly as the manor waited anxiously for Qiu Jianluo's return. When the sun was low in the sky, the afternoon light filtered into the room, the air cooled, and Qiu Haitang asked to move to the second outer pavilion. The pathway to the manor’s main entrance was visible from there so they were in prime position to see the cultivators finally arrive following a harried looking Qiu Jianluo. 

The first thing you noticed about them were the hats. They were large, with long veils hanging from the rim, sectioned into four parts, covering their entire body. The light, gauzy veils flowed in the wind, lending another layer to the other-worldliness cultivators were famed to have. The three at the front that they could see wore an outermost layer of cool blue, the kind of colour only a cloudless sky ought to have, and the layers beneath it were a lighter blue. While they were more practical than the elegant, flowing garbs of Qiu Haitang’s stories-doubtless for travel-there was no question as to their quality. The robes even moved in a way Qiu Jianluo’s or Qiu Haitang’s never did. A-Jiu had been in a wealthy household long enough to know that the Qiu family could probably sell off their entire property and not be able to afford a bolt of that silk.

The servants rushed to ready the refreshments and Qiu Haitang’s maids fretted about her, trying to make sure her clothes and accessories were perfect to receive the esteemed cultivators. They fretted about A-Jiu as well. He too was spruced up because Qiu Haitang refused to let go of him and insisted he come with to greet their guests. When a maid finally came to collect them, A-Jiu led Qiu Haitang to the receiving room. 

Qiu Jianluo’s face soured when he saw A-Jiu with his sister but he dared not say anything in front of the cultivators. It was gratifying to see. Qiu Jianluo, that arrogant and sadistic man, was reduced to nothing more than a harmless puppy in front of the cultivators. 

It was only after he sat Qiu Haitang in her seat beside her brother and stood back that he got a good look at the cultivators. Instantly any skepticism he had of their origins melted away. They had rid themselves of their headgear, and a closer look revealed the veiled hats to be similar to the ones noble women wear, only the veil goes all the way to the ground instead of cutting off at the hips or knees. Their beautiful faces were thus bare for all and sundry to see. Blemish-less, perfectly formed. He had seen some charlatans in the market pretending to be rogue cultivators before, scamming idiots with their fake talismans and charms, and now upon seeing the real thing, A-Jiu felt the need to scoff at those lowlifes and their efforts to look like actual cultivators.

For a moment A-Jiu imagined Qi-ge across from him, strong and beautiful, returning to fulfill his promise, smiling and taking him away from the manor. But Qi-ge had disappeared into the night that day, and in the worst of days A-Jiu feared he had died somewhere out in the world, alone, like all street children inevitably do-

A-Jiu put a quick stop to that line of thinking. This was no time for unnecessary thoughts. He joined the rest of the servants in surreptitiously surveying the guests.

There were five cultivators in total, three women, and two men. Three in blues, and the other two in grey and black. One cultivator in blue, wearing a face veil, was obviously the leader with the way the other four sat slightly behind him, flanking the higher ranked man in groups of two, the blue clad ones the closest to him on either side. Even with the lower half of his face hidden, he somehow managed to be the most striking amongst them.

His hair was a deep reddish brown, and it reminded A-Jiu of when the woodworkers were called in to repair the antique table in Qiu Jianlie’s study that one time, and how vibrant the rosewood they were working on was. The only other distinguishable aspect of the cultivator’s face that was visible were his eyes. A light brown, and when the sun hit it just right…A-Jiu wondered if this man did not have some foreign blood in him. 

But the most glaring feature of this man was what was resting on his hand. On the cultivator’s left hand was what seemed to be a silver gauntlet, with patterns of winding vines etched into it. It was large, but not bulky, covering quite a bit of his forearm, and extending from its centre at the wrist was a thin silver chain, and attached to the other end of the chain was what A-Jiu could only describe as a weaponized form of a woman’s nail guard. It covered the entire middle finger and then some, and glinted in the light whenever the man moved his arm. A-Jiu had no doubt that thing was wicked sharp.

It was a strange weapon. But then again it wasn’t like he knew much about cultivators to know what’s odd and what’s not. For all he knew it could very well be standard issue.

His musings were cut short as tea was finally served and Qiu Jianluo began introductions. 

“Esteemed cultivators”, he began, “Welcome to Qiu Manor. This one, as stated before, is Qiu Jianluo, the master of this household. Beside me is my sister, Lady Qiu Haitang.”

He made no move to introduce A-Jiu. The way Qiu Haitang had clung to him when he led her inside was too close for a noble lady being escorted in by a servant, yet Qiu Jianluo made no move to correct any burgeoning  misunderstandings the cultivators may have. Well, it's not like A-Jiu expected him to either. In the first place he knew the man would rather his sister have a bad name and stay unmarried in the Qiu manor-and under his thumb-forever. Secondly Qiu Jianluo would rather die than acknowledge A-Jiu as part of the Qiu family to anyone other than his sister. And it wasn’t like Qiu Haitang ever protested this either. Even though she had to know that this was a slight against her ‘fiance’. Sometimes A-Jiu wondered if she truly was that oblivious or if she was just willfully blind. It was easier to live in a fantasy after all.

Their guests however made no indication of noticing anything strange with the Lady Qiu and her escort. They didn’t look towards A-Jiu at all really. They simply went forward with their own introductions. 

“This one is Yu Lianxin”, the man in the centre said with a sharp bow, not a cun lower than strictly necessary. “This one is a senior disciple of Cang Qiong, from An Ding Peak.”

A smooth, no nonsense voice, strangely amicable. And a beautiful name. The kind of name anyone would expect from a cultivator. Yet for some reason A-Jiu felt it didn’t really fit the man.

“This one is Wu Meiying”, said the blue robed woman to the man’s right. “This one is also a senior disciple of An Ding.” She was, frankly speaking, gigantic. The largest woman he’d ever seen. So tall that she towered over her entire group, and built burly . A-Jiu didn’t doubt she could break him in half like a twig. However, her voice did not match her body at all. A light and dulcet tone, it radiated a certain calm. It was quite pleasant.

Up next was the other woman in blue. “Xiu Jinfeng”, she simply said. “Senior disciple, An Ding”. In contrast to her companion she had a dainty build,  much more like the fairy-like female cultivators from Qiu Haitang’s book collection. But her face bore neither an elegant smile nor kind eyes like her literary counterparts. Instead her face wore no expression at all. With sharp, sculpted features, and deep, dark eyes, she resembled a statue more than a human being. And her voice, a soft monotone, fit her exactly. She was such a jarring departure from the placid tone of her superior, and the relaxed expression of her martial sister.

And then it was the grey clad cultivators’ turn. A-Jiu wondered what the hierarchy was. 

“This one is Chang Qianwen”, the one on the right said cheerfully smiling. 

At first glance this pleasant disposition of hers did make the woman seem like the most approachable among her cohort. However her friendly greeting was combined with the shallowest bow yet. A-Jiu noted the subtle edge of her smile. Her eyes held the same quiet rage he often saw in Chen Mei. It was truly ridiculous to see the image of a lowly servant in an immortal cultivator but that was what he saw. And now he couldn’t unsee it. 

“Senior, from Cang Qiong’s Yuan Huo Peak”, she finished.

The last one was a man with the most bored expression A-Jiu had ever seen. And his voice carried that same bored quality. Uninterested, lazy and even a bit sleepy. “This one is Zhou Zhihui. Also from Yuan Huo. Senior disciple.”

With that the introductions were over. They were finally going to get to the heart of the matter. “Respected cultivators”, Qiu Jianluo began, “I thank you for accepting this request once again. I have already told you all that I know at the inn. If you wish to question any of the servants they are at your disposal. Whatever assistance from our part you may need, the Qiu household is more than happy to provide it. I only ask that the cause of my father's death be found and justice served.”

A-Jiu wanted to gag. Who knew Qiu Jianluo could speak with such a deferential tone? Or be meek at all? A man full of hot air who acts strong to the weak and weak to the strong. The strength that A-Jiu needed was not Qiu Jianluo’s false one. 

Cultivator Yu put down his cup. “I have some suspicions on what killed your father. But more evidence needs to be found before I can confirm anything. And for that we would need to investigate the premises. I hope that's acceptable to you, Lord Qiu?”

Qiu Jianluo faltered a bit under the cultivator’s shrewd gaze but managed to rally himself before he could make a fool of himself. How unfortunate. “Of course! As I said before the household would endeavor to provide anything you might need. Just say the word and it will be done. When would you like to begin your investigation?”

“Right now actually”, answered Yu Lianxin rather cheerfully. He and his companions stood as one, and scattered across the estate to do whatever it is that cultivators do during their investigations. Qiu Jianluo scrambled to get up as well, ordering some of the servants to follow the cultivators and provide them with whatever they needed.

A-Jiu watched them walk away, Qiu Jianluo following the leader. He wondered if these righteous cultivators would do anything if they unearth the other skeletons of Qiu manor instead of the one they were looking for. Or would they look away?

The cultivators examined every nook and cranny of the house and occasionally questioned a few servants. The sun had set by the time they finished their investigation. They finally reconvened in the reception hall, the two remaining members of the Qiu family anxious to hear what the cultivators had to say. For their part the cultivators themselves were quite calm. But there was a sense of gravity about them. It wasn’t hard to guess that whatever they had to say wasn’t good news. A-Jiu the battered and bruised slave smirked viciously inside him, joyous at the misfortune that befell his tormentor, while A-Jiu the still alive and very much mortal slave hastened his plans for escape. Come what may, he was not going to go down with this wretched place. He was not.

Yu Lianxin leaned forward in his seat. The sharp needle masquerading as a hairpin on his head glinted menacingly in the candlelight. A-Jiu was sure that thing could do much more than poke an eye out if needed, and wondered if it ever had. “I must ask you, Lord Qiu, was your father acting strange prior to his death? Any discrepancies at all in his behaviour?”

Qiu Jianluo shook his head. “No. I can’t recall an instance where he acted out of the ordinary. Though since our estate has been facing some troubles lately, we might have just chalked up any erratic behaviour on his part to his frustration”.

A-Jiu’s eyes sharpened. Was it just him or did he hesitate a bit before answering?

“I see.” Yu Lianxin’s voice had gone cold, A-Jiu noticed. It was pleasant till now, but now there was an edge to it. The servants shifted nervously at the change. The Qiu siblings didn’t notice. Of course they won't. After all, they've never had to attune themselves to other people’s moods. In fact they were the ones whose moods others had to attune to.

“Well in that case-

“He talked about mother.”

The room stilled. 

Because that was Qiu Haitang. The same Qiu Haitang who would never do anything as rude as interrupt someone else. And yet here she was, interrupting someone. And that too a cultivator.

Fortunately, Yu Lianxin didn’t seem offended. In fact he seemed to find their bewildered reactions entertaining. There was definitely an amused glint in his eye. Wu Meiying and Xiu Jingfei did not react beyond sharing a single look. Chang Qianwen however, was openly smirking, and Zhou Zhihui seemed to have somehow mustered up the energy to raise an eyebrow.

“Can you please elaborate, Lady Qiu?”, Yu Lianxin asked, the tip of his strange gauntlet weapon tapping a rhythm on the table.

In response Qiu Haitang took a fortifying breath. The grip she had on her teacup was positively brutal. “Father never talked about our mother. But just two weeks before, when I tried to bring him some refreshments to his study because he was working so hard…

She paused to take a sip of her tea. She looked lost.

“Papers were strewn all across the room. Furniture destroyed. Father was standing in the middle, panting. Then he saw me and started talking about my mother and how I look like her. I was scared and shouted for Chen Mei to come in and she ushered me out the room and closed the door from the inside. Then Xiao Ming led me away…”

Xiao Ming had been let go the week before. So the eyes of the Qiu manor residents had only one direction to turn to. Towards Chen Mei, Qiu Haitang’s personal maid. The cultivators’ eyes naturally followed. Chen Mei’s eyes widened at the heightened attention on her. But despite her anxiety she bowed to the cultivator’s and stood forward. 

Qiu Haitang on the other hand was getting increasingly agitated. “I didn’t think much of it. Father was just so angry at all those bandit attacks and the thieves and everything that happened that he…that he was a little frazzled! Yes, that's it! He was just so overworked that he even talked about mother! Even though it's so painful for him to remember her! Oh my poor father! I can’t believe he’s gone! And that too so horribly!”

And with that she burst into tears, wailing about how nice a person her father was, and how much he loved her. Qiu Jianluo supported his sister, rubbing her back and consoling her.

A-Jiu, and most likely the rest of the servants, internally scoffed at the notion of Qiu Jianlie ever being capable of being nice . The man was a vicious bastard and the only grace the heavens ever allowed them all was that he was away often. The times when he and Qiu Jianluo were both at the estate were the absolute worst. The only person who ever enjoyed their ‘niceness’ was Qiu Haitang, and A-Jiu sincerely doubted if that was love. More possession and obsession, they saw her as a special sort of doll than as a person. Had Qiu Haitang been willful and rebellious instead of sweetly trusting and agreeable, the story would have been completely different.

The conversations paused until Qiu Haitang’s wailing quietened down into soft sobs. She remained hunched over in her seat, Qiu Jianluo still comforting her. The cultivators however, did not seem to care for the spectacle. Instead they turned to Chen Mei who stiffened again. Yu Lianxin's eyes curved. A-Jiu assumed that he was smiling under his veil. “Maid Chen, tell us truthfully, what exactly did the previous Lord Qiu talk about that day?”

Chen Mei remained silent. From his position beside her, A-Jiu could see how her face had paled and how tightly she was clutching her skirt. When she finally responded, her voice was hoarse. “Master cultivator I’m afraid I can’t tell you what the lord said that day. Please forgive this lowly maid!”, she begged, bowing as deep as she could.

Whispers broke out in the hall. What could Qiu Jianlie have said that day for Chen Mei to deny a cultivators’ request? From his seat Qiu Jianluo pursed his lips. The look he sent Chen Mei next was frigid. She blanched when she caught sight of it. The order was clear. Whatever it was, not a word should escape Chen Mei’s lips. If she failed, her life was forfeit. 

The interaction did not go unseen by the guests. But for some reason they did not confront Qiu Jianluo. A-Jiu wondered why. It wasn’t as if cultivators from Cang Qiong couldn’t force Qiu Jianluo to speak after all. Unlike with A-Jiu, Qiu Jianluo’s last name meant nothing to these people.

Yu Lianxin shared a look with his fellow cultivators. Xiu Jinfeng leaned forwards, and then whispered something in his ear. There was a moment of deliberation, then Yu Lianxin nodded. He turned to Chen Mei again.

“How long have you worked here Maid Chen?”, he asked in a genial tone.

Chen Mei looked up in confusion. “This one has been at the Qiu manor since she was a child Master Cultivator. This Chen Mei’s mother was the personal maid of the previous lady Qiu. This one started to work here as soon as she was able to.”

“Ahh, so you’ve been here for quite some time then?”

“Yes Master Cultivator.”

“Then you must know a lot about this place, hmm?”

“...”

“Maid Chen”, said Yu Lianxin, with the tone of a fisherman who successfully reeled in a juicy fish, “I only need to know one thing. That day…former Lord Qiu, was he being truthful ? And was this truth something he would never have admitted naturally?”

And for the first time since the questioning started, Chen Mei looked Yu Lianxin dead in the eye. There was something strange in her eyes, and A-Jiu found himself startled at her sudden intensity.

“Yes”, said Chen Mei, answering both questions.

Yu Lianxin sat back with a satisfied hum. “Thank you Maid Chen.”

Qiu Jinaluo, who had been scowling throughout the questioning, chose then to interject. “Were these questions necessary, Master Cultivator? I don’t see how this could be relevant to the investigation at all.”

It was Xiu Jinfeng who answered. “Of course you won’t see the need, Lord Qiu. You’re not a cultivator.” 

Qiu Jianluo’s eyes twitched. A-Jiu officially approved of Xiu Jinfeng. 

“The reason why we asked these questions, Lord Qiu”, said Yu Lianxin, “is because we wanted to confirm our suspicions regarding just what killed your father. And with Maid Chen’s valuable contribution, we are now sure.”

“You are?”, Qiu Haitang asked hopefully.

“Well what is it then?”, Qiu Jianluo asked impatiently. 

Yu Lianxin raised an amused eyebrow at Qiu Jianluo’s tone. A-Jiu got the feeling that this man found a lot of things amusing. 

“This creature is called the Thousand Wailing Truths Mist”, he said idly inspecting the table. “It takes the form of a mist and lies waiting for prey in well traveled paths at dawn and dusk. Once its prey enters the mist, it crawls into the prey’s body and starts draining its victim’s life force until they’re nothing more than a lifeless husk. Fortunately for the general public, it's very very rare. Unfortunately for you, your father was one of the few unlucky enough to encounter it in the wild.”

He looked at the paling Lord and Lady Qiu. “A curious side effect of its…feeding process is that the victim starts spouting their deepest secrets, truths they would never have otherwise revealed to the world, and thus the name. It used to be used as an interrogation method in ancient times, but as a last resort, considering the…eating.”

Yu Lianxin's eyes curved again. A-Jiu stared at this morbidly amused man in wariness. “Former Lord Qiu traveled quite often, didn’t he?”, he asked the horrified brother and sister.

“Yes”, replied Qiu Jianluo, looking very uneasy. “And when he went to examine our goods caravan that got attacked a month back, he did say his carriage was delayed because of…the…mist.”

The room went silent as realization set in. 

“Are you sure, Master Cultivator? Was it really something that horrible that..that killed my father?”, Qiu Haitang asked tearfully.

“Absolutely”, said Yu Lianxin, “Xiu Jinfeng here is the one who examined the body and she’s such a good Si Zhen Dashi that I fear the moment I look away Qian Cao would abscond with her.”

Amusement spread through the cultivators at that comment. Xiu Jinfeng displayed the first signs of emotion by shaking her head in exasperation. A-Jiu wondered if a Master of Deathly Diagnosis was what he thought it was, and how exactly one gained mastery over it. 

“To tell you the truth Lord Qiu”, Yu Lianxin continued, “ you’re quite fortunate she was here today. Anyone less skilled wouldn’t have identified the work of the Thousand Wailing Truths Mist. As I said before, it is an exceedingly rare creature.”

While Qiu Jianluo and Qiu Haitang bowed to the cultivator in gratitude, A-Jiu’s eyes narrowed in thought. So Cang Qiong just happened to be passing through town, and an expert that could diagnose the Qiu’s exact problem just so happened to be in the group. What were the odds of something like that?

“What should be done, Master Cultivator?” asked Qiu Jianluo. “Is the creature gone? Has the danger passed?”

This time, it was Wu Meiying who answered. “Unfortunately no. Our talismans have confirmed that the Thousand Wailing Truths Mist hasn’t yet left the manor. The core is still in the building but it has most definitely chosen a new host. However, it's almost impossible to detect who during its incubation period. This is compounded by the sparse amount of information available on it. Having said that, compared to other creatures of its class, it does have a very short incubation period, about a day’s length at most. Xiu Jinfeng’s examination of the body has estimated the time of the former Lord Qiu’s death to around Chen Shi this morning. Currently it's nearing the end of You Shi. There is a short interval between the first appearance of symptoms and the first feeding where it might be possible to extract the creature from its host. Which means we have close to six shichen to observe the residents of the manor for any erratic behaviour. Of course this would also mean that Lord Qiu would have to permit us to stay through the night.”

Now A-Jiu wasn’t stupid. But no matter how intelligent he was, or the large number of books he had access to when he was with Qiu Haitang, it doesn’t change the fact that he was a non-cultivator. So some things were beyond him. But he didn’t need to understand the technical terms among what was said to realise that the cultivators staying over and monitoring everyone would mean that he couldn’t try to escape tonight. That's not even to mention the very real possibility that some parasite was in him now, intending to feed upon him till he was as much a husk as Qiu Jianlie. 

A-Jiu had always had the displeasure of the heavens. He didn’t see that changing now. 

An incensed hiss broke him out of his thoughts. It looked like Qiu Jianluo was finally losing grip of his composure. “What do you mean we’ll have to wait? You know it's in the manor. You know one of us is playing host to the thing. But you still can’t find it? We have to wait till it starts feeding on us?”

A-Jiu was absolutely sure none of Qiu Jianluo’s concern was for anyone other than himself and his sister. If the cultivators had been able to actually pinpoint the current host and it had turned out to be a servant, Qiu Jianluo would have immediately thrown them out of town with a merciless order to leave and die somewhere far away given the chance. But because he and his sister were also in danger, he was acting all righteously outraged. 

And it looked like Chang Qianwen knew this too, with the way her lips pursed in derision. “The reason we can’t just wave a talisman and find where it is, Lord Qiu, is because the Thousand Wailing Truths Mist is not only Wusheng, a creature that's neither dead nor alive, but also Wú Qū, lacking a physical body. They are beings that just are. Like water they change to fit the vessel. Like mist they’re intangible. And thus, it's impossible to detect them until they start feeding. That is why we have to wait. We might not be able to detect the creature, but we can surely detect who’s being eaten. We were going to apprise you of this before you interrupted.”

“Additionally”, Zhou Zhihui drawled, “Just a few years back the personal disciple of our Sect Leader managed to recreate the array that was used in the ancient times to trap the Thousands Wailing Truths Mist for interrogations. It’s a tricky one that only he and few array specialists on Ku Xing currently know how to use. We have already send a spirit message to Cultivator Gu and he has most likely already gone back to the Sect to fetch them.”

He leaned forwards with an unnerving glint in his eyes. “For people who were hastily recruited to help during one of the only rest periods they have in their own important assignment, I’d say we’ve done our part diligently. Do you not think so, Lord Qiu?”

A-Jiu…well he was surprised Qiu Jianluo wasn’t bleeding out on the floor, because the words were cutting. Seeing the man nonchalantly settle back into lethargy as if he hadn’t verbally eviscerated Qiu Jianluo was an enlightening experience.

Qiu Jianluos’ indignant sputtering was interrupted by Yu Lianxin finally deciding to put him out of his misery. The man was content watching it all from the side with Xiu Jinfeng, and A-Jiu just couldn’t figure him out. It was truly frustrating. “I do think my martial siblings have said all that needs to be said on the matter. Unless Lord Qiu and Lady Qiu have something more to add?”

Qiu Jianluo gritted his teeth and managed to eke out a no. Qiu Haitang just shook her head.

“Well then! We’ll keep watch on all of the manor’s residents throughout the night. If we’re lucky then help will arrive with the capture array by Xu Shi tomorrow, and we’ll do away with the Thousand Wailing Truths Mist for good!”

The cultivators then revealed their plan. The servants present in the hall were instructed to tell the others that they should complete any duties they have left by the end of Hai Shi . Then they should gather in the courtyard where they would be divided into four groups. A cultivator would be in charge of each group. The groups would then settle down for the night in some of the estate’s gathering halls. 

Qiu Jianluo, his personal attendant Wang Chun, Qiu Haitang, Chen Mei, A-Jiu, and two guards Yang Bo, and Li Min would stay in the Reception Hall, under the watch of Yu Lianxin himself. To say A-Jiu was displeased was an understatement. 

He also learned that cultivators can forgo sleep as much as they want, and even hunger. What A-Jiu wouldn’t have done for that ability out in the streets! He didn’t have any time to be too envious though, what with him valiantly ignoring a grumbling Qiu Jianluo and his posse. Wang Chun was Qiu Jianlie’s personal attendant and was an overall bastard, and Yang Bo and Li Min were sadists who supported Qiu Jianluo in his cruel pastimes. A-Jiu made sure to stick close to Qiu Haitang. He shared a look with Chen Mei. This was going to be a long night.

Thus, Qiu Manor readied itself for a tense vigil. Come tomorrow, one of them might very well be dead. 

A-Jiu woke up to screaming. The floor was shaking and there were panicked movements all around him. The entire manor seemed to be in chaos as terrified noises flew into the hall from all corners of the building. He had no idea what was going on. When had he even fallen asleep? As a matter of fact, how could he have fallen asleep? He was in the same room as Qiu Jianluo and his men! 

He struggled to get up but it was as if he was weighed down by rocks. He could barely lift up his head. It took him some time to even turn over, and when he finally managed that, it was to see Qiu Haitang fall down with a thud right next to him. Her face pale with terror and shouting. 

“What are you talking about Brother? Please this isn’t true! It's just the creature! Please, this can’t be you!”

What in the world was happening? He winced as the screeches of metal upon metal reverberated around the room. Other sounds of fighting followed. He finally got a hand on a low table and pulled himself up. 

Only to witness carnage.

Gone was the peaceful hall from before. Now it was a bloody mess.

Wang Chun and Yang Bo were definitely dead, what with their heads rolling on the floor and all. Li Min was still alive(pity!), standing opposite Yu Lianxin, but something was very wrong with him. He was shaking all over and moving in a strange, uncoordinated way. There were black lines all over his body and he was oozing some kind of greenish sludge. Mist was escaping from his nose and mouth, the feathery tendrils trying to reach towards the cultivator who proved far too nimble to get caught. Qiu Jianluo was in the middle of the room, in a similar state to Li Min, only he was breathing out a violent amount of mist compared to the mere wisps produced by his guard. Drool escaped his mouth and he was rambling without pause. And the words made A-Jiu shrivel in disgust.

“.... Oh you’re so beautiful Haitang I want to keep you with me forever like A-Jiu isn’t he so beautiful I want to make him bleed and cry he’s so pretty when he cries meimei I gave him to you didn’t I shouldn’t you shouldn’t you share him with me I love the bruises on his skin when I play with him I love his eyes I want to pluck them out break his bones you really should share him Haitang we can keep him forever I’ll keep you forever too I’ll never let you leave You’re so beautiful Haitang look at you you’re so like a doll You’re both mine I’ll keep you two forever I want to break him break his legs and watch him crawl for me wouldn’t you like that too Haitang didn’t I give him to you what a good elder brother I am! ...”

The mad man swayed forwards, ambling towards them in that same unnerving gait as Li Min’s. A-Jiu tried to scramble away as much as he could as Qiu Jianluo advanced, Chen Mei dragging Qiu Haitang along with her by his side. But it turned out they didn’t need to. Just as Qiu Jianluo reached them, a glowing golden circle manifested around them on the floor, stopping Qiu Jianluo in his tracks. The clearly possessed man tried to break through the barrier but was blasted back onto a table with a grunt. A-Jiu and Chen Mei both gave sighs of relief.

And then, for some insane reason Qiu Haitang tried to rush out of their safe haven after her brother, only just stopped before stepping out by Chen Mei tackling her to the ground like some market ruffian. A-Jiu could only look at the woman in incredulity. Qiu Jianluo was most definitely the chosen host of the mist creature the cultivators were talking about. He was not only dangerous but also spouting some vile, obsessive shit regarding the both of them, which were undoubtedly true because the cultivators already said the mist creature makes people spew truths uncontrollably. Why in the name of all the gods were you rushing towards him, Haitang?

Qiu Haitang however was not listening to Chen Mei’s pleas and continued to struggle against her maid. In complete contrast to the chaos on one side of the hall, Yu Lianxin was practically the epitome of calm. He danced out of Li Min’s way easily, observing the shambling body with an almost scholarly curiosity. He didn’t even glance at the huddled figures at the other end of the room or appear bothered by the cacophony rising throughout Qiu manor. A-Jiu gritted his teeth at the cultivator’s nonchalance. But he couldn’t dwell on that as Qiu Jianluo continued to assault the barrier by throwing his entire body onto it. He all but crawled to Chen Mei, trying to help her keep Qiu Haitang in, as a lucky break by the woman revealed that the shield just kept things out , not in .

It felt like an eternity later that Yu Lianxin had enough of the game he was playing with Li Min, and finally did something. With a flick of his wrist the chain connecting the gauntlet and the stinger-like blade suddenly lengthened, wrapping around the hulking guard and immobilising him completely. A snap of the cultivator’s fingers had blue lightning like sparks running down the chain, and Li Min convulsed, screaming in pain. The smell of burning flesh had A-Jiu scrunching his nose in disgust. Chen Mei was the same. Qiu Haitang on the other hand, fell back in shock and gagged. 

Together the three of them watched as Yu Lianxin walked leisurely towards the downed form of Li Min, the strange nail guard extending to almost double the size of the finger it was worn on at his side. The cultivator crouched next to the trembling Li Min and lightly tapped the claw against the man’s forehead. 

A flower bloomed on Li Min’s face. It glowed once. And in the next moment Li Min’s face was leached of all signs of life and he fell silent. A-Jiu knew that that silence was forever. Next to him Chen Mei’s eyes widened in shock, and Qiu Haitang brought up her hands to cover her mouth, face paling further. A-Jiu himself fought the urge to flinch. 

Because…What in the world was that?

They don’t get to fully absorb what happened however, as a huge mass of mist was expelled from Li Min’s body and rushed towards the blue clad cultivator. Yu Lianxin dodged, and the mist barreled through the wall, leaving behind a giant opening through which cold wind wafted into the room. The three mortals in the room shivered. 

Yu Lianxin’s eyes did not move from the opening even as the silence was filled with Qiu Jianluo’s crazed mutterings, who had kept up his fruitless assault on the barrier. The cultivator shifted, seemingly hearing something, before all but gliding to the garden on the opposite side. There he waited, eyes still locked on the hall’s newly made entryway. 

A-Jiu, Chen Mei, and Qiu Haitang waited in terrible anticipation. Moments passed. Wind ruffled the trees. The noises of the manor that had dominated the night faded into the background as they stared at the dark opening. One, two, three…

With a furious howl, something far larger than what vanished into it flew out, aiming unerringly towards Yu Lianxin. The three of them found no shame in screaming in fright- though A-Jiu would never admit it-the abomination was almost the height of Qiu manor. 

Yu Lianxin, of course, dodged with ease, jumping to a ridiculous height, avoiding the creature’s attack entirely. With a motion of the airborne cultivator’s hand, arrays upon arrays appeared in the air, almost boxing the creature in. It seemed to work for a moment, before the creature broke through the cage and rampaged towards its opponent once more. From then on it was a similar game to what Yu Lianxin played with Li Min, with the cultivator keeping away effortlessly while the creature got increasingly frustrated.

A-Jiu, Chen Mei, and Qiu Haitang could only look upon the fight amongst titans from behind their little golden shield. Unfortunately the stalemate didn’t last long. Having had enough of their little chasing game, the creature roared, and spat out a colossal stream of black sludge from its…head? It was way too large for Yu Lianxin to avoid. It hit him directly and blasted him into one of the remaining few walls of the garden compound. The creature wasted no time and rose up, proceeding to drive its entire body into the wreckage. Then, in a flash of blue and sickly green, the writhing mass was gone from the garden. 

The golden shield did not vanish, but it faltered. Just for a moment. And that was enough. Qiu Jianluo’s hand found Qiu Haitang’s neck and hauled her out before Chen Mei could do something. He dragged her to the other end of the hall in mere moments. The sick, obsessive look in Qiu Jianluo’s eyes increased as he lifted her by the neck, watching in fascination as she choked. 

For some reason, onereasonmanyreasonsnoreason …

Kindness despite ignorance, gentleness despite naivete, innocence despite obliviousness…

Hate and anger and affection and gratitude in equal measure…

Indebtedness.

A-Jiu rammed into the man, forcing him to let go of Qiu Haitang. While Qiu Jianluo stumbled and struggled to regain his footing, A-Jiu grabbed Qiu Haitang’s arm and all but threw her towards the shield. Unfortunately for him, before he could make a run for it himself, Qiu Jianluo fell on top of him, trapping him underneath his long-time tormenter. 

“I wanted Haitang first but you’re fine as well A-Jiu so pretty you are I want to break your skull open wouldn’t that be splendid A-Jiu your blood is pretty as your face pretty pretty red”

The smaller man flailed, trying to get away, but he was pinned quite thoroughly under Qiu Jianluo’s weight. To his horror he realised that the mist was starting to gather around him. Thinking fast, A-Jiu stopped breathing altogether. He had no idea if that would actually do something but there was no way he was going to let himself be turned into a puppet like Li Min.

Qiu Jianluo’s face was still stuck in that sick rictus of a grin from before. A-Jiu shuddered as the man brought his face closer. His breath fanned across the younger man’s face, tendrils of mist coming closer. As Qiu Jianluo opened his mouth and brought it closer to his neck, A-Jiu’s hands frantically felt around for a weapon. His hands finally felt the edge of something wooden but it was too late. Qiu Jianluo bit down viciously, and blood burst forth.

A-Jiu screamed. 

Somehow, despite the pain, he managed to get a grip on whatever it was that he found. With strength he didn’t know he possessed, A-Jiu heaved the makeshift weapon…right into Qiu Jianluo’s head. 

The bite slackened. Black blood sprayed A-Jiu in the face. Qiu Jianluo let go. In the background a woman screamed.

A-Jiu scrambled away. His left hand was tightly held over the bite, stemming the blood flow from his neck. He couldn’t breathe. Or was he breathing too quickly? His vision dimmed. He was dizzy. He had to calm down. This was no time to faint. He tried to calm down his breathing, counting his breaths one by one. And slowly his vision began to clear. 

Then without warning something grabbed him, trying to drag him away. He tried to thrash away from the grip, panic coming back with a vengeance. But a voice broke him out of his alarmed state. 

“A-Jiu, it's me! Chen Mei! Please calm down. We have to get back to the shield. You have to calm down. We have to get behind the shield before that thing attacks!”

Her strong grip and determined voice centred him and he finally managed to get a hold on himself. He shakily nodded his head, grimacing at the pain in his still bleeding neck and stood up, supported by Chen Mei. Together, they staggered towards the shield. As the ringing in his ears finally ceased, A-Jiu finally noticed the livid roaring of the creature coming from outside the compound. Something in his mind settled at the possibility that Yu Lianxin was still alive. 

A shattering sound had him looking back. And he reeled back in shock. Qiu Jianluo’s body was lurching back up. And sticking out macabrely from the right side of his face was a broken chair leg. He hadn’t clobbered Qiu Jianluo, he had stabbed him through the head. 

A horrified gasp from Chen Mei and her insistent tugging on his arm brought him back to reality. Right. They had to get behind the shield. But he couldn’t help but look back as they rushed back. A flash of satisfaction flitted through his mind at what he had done to the man who had enjoyed bouncing his skull off the ground for his own amusement. And much like all other such feelings on that day, it was offset by the fact that Qiu Jianluo’s body was capable of moving at all. 

Their unfortunate series of events didn’t end there. Just before they reached the shield-damn Qiu Jianluo for dragging Haitang all the way across the hall-the creature ploughed through the room with a furious bellow. The force was such that Chen Mei and A-Jiu were flung in opposite directions. A-Jiu grunted in pain as he collapsed against a wall. His eyes squinted through the dust to where Chen Mei was thrown, sighing in relief when he saw her scramble up. However, her leg seemed badly broken. Thankfully she was quite close to the shield and managed to crawl through the debris to get inside, somehow avoiding the creature’s livid rampage.

He wasn’t as lucky, landing far away from the shield and much too close to Qiu Jianluo. A-Jiu gritted his teeth. The gods really had it out for him. This belief was strengthened when the creature split in two, a smaller mass heading straight to Qiu Jianluo, going up his mouth, ears, and nostrils, vanishing into his body. The larger mass was blasted back by what seemed like lightning as Yu Lianxin finally came back into view. However it didn’t matter as whatever the creature did with Qiu Jianluo had somehow fortified the man’s body. Earlier he was ambling forwards with that strange, swaying gait. Now it was as if he was a mad dog. Fast, chaotic, and even more dangerous.

And he was running straight towards A-Jiu.

Yu Lianxin was too busy battling the creature, the sludgy tendrils keeping the cultivator occupied. He was too high in the sky. 

A-Jiu realised in that moment that this was how he would die after all. On the floor of this wretched manor at the hands of a Qiu. As his death barrelled towards him foaming at the mouth, A-Jiu had to let out a bitter laugh. So this was how the heavens decided to punish the slave for daring to dream. 

He looked to the sky, intending his last sight to be the beautiful form of Yu Lianxin in the air and not Qiu Jianluo. That man would not be his last thing he sees. 

And so he was in perfect position to see a star plummeting from the sky, falling atop Qiu Jianluo like heavens’ fury.

A-Jiu coughed as the storm of dust and rubble that followed the fall but didn’t have any time to think anything further before a warm body collided with him, followed by,

“Xiao-Jiu!”

He froze. He was larger, the voice deeper, and clad in garments that were softer than anything they could’ve dreamed of…but the man holding him tight and weeping was unmistakable. 

“Qi-ge?”, he croaked out.

“Xiao-Jiu!”, said the man, as he finally loosened his hug. A face he thought he would never see again stared at A-Jiu. Slowly the slave raised his arms towards the man’s head, cupping the handsome face, fingers tracing the cheeks. 

Was this real?

Was this really real? Was this an illusion? Or had he died already?

A-Jiu’s body was aching all over. His neck felt like it was on fire. But inside his heart…he could feel something igniting.

‘Could this be joy?’, he thought in disbelief.

Qi- ge, and it was actually Qi-ge, hugged him again, calling him Xiao-Jiu over and over again. Something warm ran over him, soothing the pain. The battle was still going on, but with his face held against Qi-ge’s shoulder, breathing in his scent, it was as if everything was muffled.

Even Qiu Jianluo’s decapitated head lying at his feet felt surreal. His cleaved apart body lying a few feet away felt even more surreal.

Their peace was softly shattered by something landing beside them. Xiao-Jiu slowly turned his head towards Yu Lianxin, who only looked a little ruffled for having been locked in combat with a monstrous creature moments before.

“I don’t want to interrupt whatever this is Yue-shixiong, but I’m afraid I need your help with the finishing touches here.” The cultivator pointed behind him. Both Xiao-Jiu and Qi-ge looked up only to see the struggling creature being held in place by what seemed like hundreds of golden chains. The chains periodically sparked with lightning, and with each spark of power, the creature’s thrashing lost intensity. High upon its…head? were two cultivators dressed in monks’ robes, doing something to keep the creature material.

“And besides, this gongzi definitely needs medical attention. I’ll stand guard while you go and seal the Thousand Wailing Truths Mist Yue-shixiong”.

Qi-ge reluctantly nodded and stood up. Xiao-Jiu didn’t stop him. Even though he wanted to. So badly. But Qi-ge knew him too well. 

Yue Qi looked right into his eyes and took off one of the outer layers of his robes, laying it over Xiao-Jiu’s battered form, before turning and taking off into the sky. Xiao-Jiu made sure Qi-ge was far up with the other two cultivators before burrowing his nose into the man’s robes.

If Yu Lianxin thought anything of it, he didn’t say anything. But he could feel the man’s sharp gaze on him before it moved away. 

After that everything happened in a blur. He was so focused during the attack that as soon as a spot of safety appeared, it was as if he was a doll with its strings cut. Nuzzled in Yue Qi’s robes and in considerable pain, he was barely aware of the cultivators in pale green treating his wounds, or how Yu Lianxin’s companions ushered in the other injured into the destroyed hall. He heard one of the cultivators patching him up muttering something about shock, but that didn’t register anything in his exhausted mind.

Later, once he came out of his fugue, he would learn that Qiu Haitang had tried to accuse him of something or the other regarding her brother’s state but had been ruthlessly shut down by Chang Qianwen. That Zhou Zhihui had not only found cursed artefacts in Qiu Jianluo’s chambers but also evidence of Qiu Jianlie’s involvement in the illegal trade and smuggling of dangerous relics using the Qiu family businesses as a cover. Apparently the Thousand Wailing Truths Mist had gone so out of control due to being corrupted by one such artefact in Qiu Jianlie’s possession. Because of the corruption, the creature had been able to possess multiple people even though Qiu Jianluo was its primary host. The sludgy behemoth it had turned into was also due to the corruption. Thankfully Yu Lianxin, Wu Meiying, and Xiu Jinfeng were able to contain it in the manor, not allowing it to wreak havoc on the town.

With the reveal of such incriminating evidence, it was easy for Cang Qiong to launch an investigation. Needless to say, the Qiu family’s fate was sealed. With the majority of the buildings utterly destroyed, along with the corrupted qi now blanketing the grounds, Qiu manor was projected to be out of commission for a very long time. By late morning, Yu Lianxin had not only persuaded Qiu Haintang to release the servants and slaves under the Qiu name but had also shipped her off to one of the nicer aunts living two towns over, along with two senior disciples and her brother's purified body. 

And just like that the Qiu family line was essentially dead. The nightmare that was Xiao-Jiu’s existence for the past few years had come to an abrupt, dramatic end.

Yue Qi stuck close to him. He was also gracious enough to offer the servants work on Cang Qiong’s lands, and a good amount gratefully took the offer, including Chen Mei. Xiao-Jiu was bundled off into a carriage and spent most of the ride consoling Qi-ge, who kept on tearfully apologising, trying to explain why he had been unable to come earlier.

It was only once he was safely ensconced in the medicine halls of Cang Qiong under the careful supervision of one Mu Wenchun, that he was finally informed of what happened. Qi-ge, that fool, had stupidly rushed to get his spiritual weapon and had nearly killed himself. He had to go under harsh treatment to heal the damage caused, and as punishment was forbidden by his shizun from leaving the mountain. Said shizun was currently away on a cultivation conference, and Yue Qi had luckily caught Cultivator Gu before he could get Yu Lianxin’s message to one of the senior hall masters on Qiong Ding Peak. He had recognised the family name and town instantly and hadn’t bothered to ask for permission before gathering the needed Ku Xing disciples, who were apparently his friends, and flying off.  

Xiao-Jiu didn’t hesitate to smack Qi-ge upside the head for his idiocy. He then embraced him and tried to hide his relieved tears. 

It struck him all at once. Qi-ge…Qi-ge hadn’t died alone on the streets after all. Qi-ge hadn’t abandoned him. Qi-ge had become head disciple at Cang Qiong’s foremost peak. Had defied the Sect Leader for him. Xiao-Jiu hadn’t been forgotten. Qi-ge still loved him. Qi-he had been trying to come for him all this time. Qi-ge did come for him as promised. 

Something ragged finally settled inside him. Something torn and weeping laid to rest at last. And with that he did something he had wanted to since the day before. He fell blissfully unconscious. 

Xiao-Jiu spend the better part of a month in Qian Cao getting treated for his bite which had to be carefully monitored. The entire time Qi-ge did not move from his side more than absolutely necessary. Other than him and Mu Wenchun, Peak Lord Song Anliang, and an extremely strange Qing Jing hallmaster in blue-green robes, he had no other visitors. The last one for some reason decided to teach him weiqi while his various talismans recorded the energy signatures around the bite, which if he was being honest was most welcome, as it made him feel less like a curiosity and more like an actual patient. 

He saw no sign of Yu Lianxin or his companions. 

Xiao-Jiu was afraid the Sect Leader would punish Qi-ge for disobeying his orders once he came back, but surprisingly enough, Qi-ge wasn’t even given a reprimand. And the one time the Sect Leader came to Qiao Cao and saw him in the halls, he seemed greatly bothered for some reason.

As the month came to an end, Xiao-Jiu once again stubbornly refused Qi-ge’s offer to recommend him to the Sect, and trekked down the mountain to look for work in the town below. Which he did…in the Warm Red Pavillion as the madame’s assistant…much to Qi-ge’s consternation and his own secret amusement.

A year later he took Cang Qiong’s admission test and was chosen by Peak Lord Shen Anming of Qing Jing, who was apparently the strange hallmaster who taught him weiqi. And when Xiao-Jiu was declared head disciple after five years, he became Shen Jiu. 

Ten years later, Shen Qingqiu would ascend as Peak Lord of Qing Jing along with the rest of the Qing generation. Perhaps there really had been some fortune meant for him after all.

Except Shen Qingqiu had never been so foolish as to believe that. Fortune? For him? Nonsense! Because things had lined up too perfectly, hadn't they? Cang Qiong just happened to be passing through. Xiu Jinfeng just happened to be there for an expert diagnosis. Chang Qianwen and Zhou Zhihui just happend to be experts at identifying cursed relics. The Sect Leader just happened to be away. Yu Lianxin just happened to be a barrier talisman and array expert. 

Gu Chengmei just happened to pass by where Qi-ge was training, even though the grounds he was using that day was way off of the path to Qiong Ding. 

It was either a genuine coincidence or divine providence, and Shen Qingqiu had faith in neither.

Because Shen Qingqiu remembered that day when he was given his surname and courtesy name clearly. The day his hard work paid off. 

He also remembered how his pride had turned to horror when he saw how his name was written. The thoughts that had invaded his mind as he walked in dread towards Qiong Ding to have ‘Shen Qingqiu’ added to the Sect Registry. 'Qiu' for autumn. Shen Qingqiu...sink into autumn. Drown.

Was Shizun mocking him? Was this Shizun’s way of telling him that it doesn’t matter how high he rises, he’s still nothing more than a slave? That he shouldn’t forget where he started?

Shen Qingqiu distinctly remembered walking up to the Registry office in an anxious stupor, nearly retching at the thought of that damned name branding him once more, at the possibility that he would never be able to escape the metaphorical walls of Qiu manor after all. 

He had found Yu Lianxin there. No…he had found Shang Qinghua there-he hadn’t been the only one with a new name. 

Shen Qingqiu remembered how the man had smiled at him once he saw him at the entrance. How he gestured for him to open up the scroll for documentation while scolding a shidi about some shipment or the other. 

Shooing the junior away, turning around to get the An Ding seal….

The junior rushing past Shen Qingqiu…

A brush turned askew by an errant sleeve…falling onto the scroll…

An inkblot.

“Honestly, that Huang Zhouqi! My apologies, shixiong. Huang-shidi can be a little frenetic but he’s generally reliable. Don't worry about the mess though, I did catch a glimpse of your name before the ink fell. Shen Qingqiu, right?”

“It is a wonderful name Shen-shixiong! Shen-shibo has really outdone himself! ‘Qiu’ for Catalpa, a jeweled tree, and a symbol of resilience and enlightenment-what a great choice! And how well the name suits someone from Qing Jing, even the imagery is so evocative.”

“He-shimei! I’m sorry for Huang-shidi’s mistake. I heard you had to go to the Qiong Ding archives to find that misfiled document. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again. Oh! I’ve already done our half of Shen-shixiong’s new registration. Here’s the copy for you to consult. I’ll get this back to An Ding right away. Congratulations Shen-shixiong! I’ll expect an invite for a celebration soon.”

Shen Qingqiu had walked out of that office feeling like someone lifted the world off of his shoulders that day. He hadn’t drowned like he’d feared…he had finally finally escaped autumn. 

More than a decade later, that memory was still so clear.

And that was why…

Shen Qingqiu did not believe in the heavens having much favour to spare for him. But he’s starting to believe someone else did. 

Chapter Text

When Li Yuhuan first started writing Proud Immortal Demon Way, he had plans in mind that vastly differed from how it actually ended up. Back then he had been just another run-of-the-mill writer on Zhongdian with only one or two works that barely managed to get monetised and that had been nowhere near profitable enough to pay his bills. PIDW was his dream of something bigger, a vast plot that had been rattling around his head since forever. Characters sifting in and out of his imagination in the brief moments he managed to scrounge up between a dozen part time jobs. And then the accident happened, his drafts were destroyed, he failed a paper and his father called to say if that happened again, he won’t pay tuition anymore. 

So PIDW went down the train much like most of his life. 

When he died(painful, painful, painful ) and transmigrated into the monster of his own creation as a baby, the first thing Li Yuhuan Shang Qinghua had done was laugh hysterically at the floating screen now dictating his life, and let the laughter slowly peter out into sobs. Those first few years had been a sort of detached fugue, and he barely remembered anything beyond mechanically doing as he was told. If his new parents found that odd, they didn’t particularly care enough to investigate.

When he was seven he was subjected to his first punishment protocol and that blessed fugue that had saved him so much grief lifted. It was pretty much an agonising climb then onwards.

Somehow he made it to Cang Qiong without dying on the way. Somehow he got into An Ding. And there he had worked, sabotaged, backstabbed, worked, blackmailed, deceived, and worked his way to being Head Disciple, with a dozen or so Punishment Protocols along the way to provide motivation.

Sometime during his manic climb to the top, he met Mobei-Jun, and despite how poorly that encounter had gone, it had remained the only pleasant spot in his second life. Here was a character he had created for himself. Perhaps this was the only thing he had ever had for himself really. Maybe that was why he couldn’t kill the ice demon then and there despite the System all but confirming that Mobei-jun served no higher purpose in the plot. Because if Mobei-Jun died, what else could Shang Qinghua call his own? What else would remain?

So he didn’t and throughout the years of three beatings a day, he hadn’t wavered in his loyalty. Mobei-Jun had represented something to Shang Qinghua, and he wasn’t all that ready to analyse that any further. Maybe not ever. 

Then Shen Qingqiu changed, the plot derailed, his drafts manifested and pushed the outline further, and then the beatings…stopped. 

He had thought that was the end of it. His drafts of an expansive cultivation novel appearing or not, it didn’t change the fact that the world was still PIDW, and that PIDW was fundamentally a stallion novel. And stallion novels always ended with a happy conclusion for the protagonist. Luo Binghe was happy. Shen Qingqiu was happy. The System had gone inert. That meant the plot was finished right? They were in post-canon now, free to move ahead as they wished.

Never mind the fact that Shang Qinghua had never intended for Luo Binghe to be happy. Had planned for the Heavenly Demon to end up alone and miserable. Like him . So maybe, just maybe he hadn’t written a stallion novel after all . 

So when the lowest depths of the Abyss ruptured open and let the Abyssal Beings loose upon the realms, Shang Qinghua could admit to himself that he hadn’t been too surprised that his life once again came tumbling down. But a throwaway situation he had plotted out on an oily napkin in a hole in the wall noodle shop he could eat in for free as long as he didn’t wear a mask and sat near the door-not even included in his drafts mind you- hadn’t exactly been in his list of possibilities. 

Figures with his track record though. 

And so they went to war, demon and cultivator alike, and steadily they lost. 

They say good logistics don’t win a war, but that war can’t be won without good logistics. That an army marches on its stomach. 

Shang Qinghua was the Peak Lord of An Ding. And he had worked his way up there no matter what anyone thought. It was one of the only things he was proud of in his lives.

His supply lines were a thing of beauty. He and An Ding had kept that war going, and were the reason they were losing steadily in the first place.

Unfortunately he knew it wasn’t enough. This had been designed as an insurmountable obstacle intended to teach Luo Binghe undeniable defeat, before he had settled on bitter knowledge and isolation as hurting more. His Luo Binghe was stronger, had love and friendship and that cliche jazz on his side, but he was no match for something that had felled even his father. No match for two short paragraphs of broken text a trembling hand had jotted down on almost two nights of recurring insomnia. 

Cang Qiong had burned after all. Everything had really. It was morbidly hilarious in retrospect. Though Shen Qingqiu hadn’t seen it that way.

To add to all that, those very same hands also hadn’t created their adversaries without some amount of intelligence. Crude and primal, more instinct than not, but intelligence nonetheless. 

So once again, when he and his team of An Ding disciples were cornered by what seemed like a battalion of corrupted cultivators on their way down from the North, Shang Qinghua couldn’t really say that he was surprised.

To tell the truth, despite how he acts, he was never ever  truly surprised. The last time that happened was when he had returned from his business trip and found Shen Qingqiu a completely different man. And that hadn’t exactly been a happy surprise.

Hence, he wasn’t completely taken aback by their violent accostment. No. What did surprise him however, was the way in which disciples defended him. 

Shang Qinghua would be the first to admit that he hadn’t been the best teacher. He had cleaned up a lot of the toxic parts of An Ding when he had ascended true, but that was to streamline his plans for the Peak more than any true altruism or duty. He had picked up street rats and runways because An Ding had been severely short-staffed, not because he was feeling sympathetic. Beyond picking them up and dumping them on An Ding, and the few times he had to give a few lessons, he had always remained a distant figure who didn’t even have the decency to be loyal to the Sect.

And yet they hadn’t turned their back on him when he returned, had they? In fact they had acted as if everything was normal and carried on as usual. Hadn’t they felt betrayed like his martial siblings had?

Shang Qinghua found himself bewildered by their fierce defence of him, how these cowardly students of his threw themselves into the fire to give him time to run away.

“Shifu, you have to get away. If you die, it’ll all be over! Run Shifu!”, his head disciple had shouted, moments before she was skewered by a blade twice her size. And yet she had detonated herself with her last bit of strength to buy him time.

Why were these foolish children doing this for their useless master? They had to get away. He should be the one buying them time to run. Xùn Fēng probably saw more battle then than it had since he drew it from the wall. But again, it was no use, they were captured in a rift and sent spiralling, landing in what seemed like the farthest reaches of the North from the aurora undulating across the sky, right in front the altar of some forgotten deity. 

His remaining four disciples were quickly slaughtered and Shang Qinghua himself had been left impaled at the foot of the deity, like some kind of sacrificial offering. As he lay dying, the death he had always thought was his fate if he was being honest, he shouldn’t have let anything lull him into a false sense of security, he thought of how these children had sacrificed themselves for a deadbeat father like him, and wished he had done more for them…In the end, had he really been nothing more than a reflection of his parents? Had he never been his own person? Had he been the character all along, and not everyone else?

Shang Qinghua had to chuckle at that, blood leaking from his mouth and the giant hole in his abdomen. Darkness slowly laid claim to him as he lay on those steps staring up the deity and his last thought was this:

‘I remember you.’

Poor child. Let me gift you the chance you were yearning for. Live by my name, Li Yuhuan Shang Qinghua. Without Envy.

You’ve bled enough for payment anyhow.

Yu Lianxin woke up with a start. Panicked and disoriented, his first order of business was to fall off of whatever he was lying on and onto the cold, hard floor. His body ached, but it was distinctly lacking the gut wrenching pain of…well getting your gut wrenched. 

He sat up from his prone position on the floor and quickly put his back toward a wall. Frantically he surveyed his surroundings, trying to figure out where the Corrupted had obviously brought him. And as soon as he managed to process what his eyes were telling him, he was able to figure out where he was instantly.

A moderately luxurious room, obviously designed for a child. A few chests lying about, scrolls on the walls. Minimal decorations. A good amount of blue hangings. Bland, non-committal, but lived in. He knew this space. Knew it intimately.

This was his second childhood’s old bedroom. He certainly didn’t have such a nice bedroom the first time around that’s for sure.

His first thought after the recognition was that he was hallucinating. Some kind of vision right before death most likely. Was this the infamous ‘life flashing before your eyes’ moment? Life review?

But no, that can’t be it. Slowly he brought his hand to press against his miraculously un-holey abdomen. Energy flowed through his hand, sending a searching pulse. Relief came over him when he found what he was looking for.

His golden core. It was sluggish, as if it had been drained. But it was indeed qi that was thrumming a rhythm in his dantian. And that brought on new questions.

Yu Lianxin definitely did not have a golden core in his childhood. So what was this?Had he transmigrated again? Into the same story? Or another version of the same story? 

He ran a finger across the wood of the floor thoughtfully, feeling the grooves and light scratches across its surface. Too realistic to be an illusion. Was it time travel? With what his life had been like till now, time travel was definitely not out of the realm of possibility.  

And why was he so calm? He should be more anxious. Way more anxious. While Yu Lianxin was aware of his capacity for detachment, he was still an anxious man. There were times when he could not maintain the trademarked nervous smile he had developed as Shang Qinghua, when it would fade away and leave an impassive mask in its place. Shen Yuan had told him repeatedly how creepy he looked, and how uncomfortably similar it was to Luo Binghe’s own serious face when he was apart from his husband. But that didn’t mean he purged himself of all emotions. He was pretty sure things did not work that way. And yet, that familiar wave of anxiousness was curiously absent. 

He supposed he was overwhelmed right now and that his detachment had taken over as a coping mechanism. Or it could be shock. After all, he did just die…painfully.

Funny. He didn’t seem to know how to die any other way.

Sighing, he stood up wobbling. And in that one motion he was made aware of another development. 

He was small. 

‘I am a child’, he noted somewhat incredulously. He looked up towards the ceiling in exasperation. ‘A third childhood…you know what, this might just as well happen.’

Slowly, stumbling as if he wasn’t used to his own body, which he wasn’t, he made his way towards the door. This was a small estate, his memories told him, with only him, his brother, and his mother living in it. A good set of rooms for the three of them, servants quarters, guardhouse, and two gardens made up the manor. Modest but respectable. 

He struggled to get the door open but thankfully it was not only unlocked, but also left slightly ajar. Right…the maids weren’t particularly dutiful when it came to him. One of the maids must have come in the early morning to set up his bath and left without properly closing the door. 

Sunlight blinded him as he stepped outside. Pulling his sleeping robes closer to him, Yu Lianxin made his way towards the garden by the inner corridor. 

The garden was as he remembered. Peonies, a large Magnolia tree, other assorted plants, and a pond with multi-coloured carp. It was honestly very stereotypical. After a lifetime in Cang Qiong and in the North, as well as meetings with absurdly rich clients, all with their carefully curated gardens, this one just seemed so very dull. But as a child he knew he thought of this place as beautiful. When he was despairing about his situation, the peaceful nature of the garden had calmed him down and helped him retain his sanity. It was incredible that despite such fond memories, the only opinion he could muster about it now was that it was dull. How time changes people. 

Not minding the fact that he was dragging his robes behind him, Yu Lianxin walked towards the pond. From the distance he could already spy two golden flashes flitting across the surface of the water.

Unbidden, a smile bloomed across his lips. ‘Jin Hui and Yang Guang are as energetic as ever I see’ he thought amusedly.

Then he paused. ‘Why do I remember that?’ 

Yu Lianxin hadn’t thought about this house in forty years. He couldn’t even remember the name of his brother, let alone some damn fish in the garden pond. So why did those names come easily to him? What was going on?

His feet stopped at the edge of the pond. Apprehension grew in his mind but the now young child looked over the margin.

Luo Binghe stared back at him.

The boy backed up a step. Then he fell backwards, and his hair tumbled off of its loose knot like a waterfall.

Yu Lianxin lifted up a lock, and brought it closer to his face. Vibrant red filled his vision. His hand fell back slack. 

That was neither Yu Lianxin’s face, nor was it Shang Qinghua’s face.

Bright golden eyes set on a beautiful, noble face, framed by sunset red locks. Change the colour palette and the protagonist would stare back at you. 

God had made man in his image. 

Li Yuhuan had made Binghe in his. 

In his first life he had hated his face. He looked too much like his mother with his father’s eyes. And when he had been living alone in that shady area before PIDW started raking in decent money, the amount of trouble this damned face caused him was just too much. Honestly with his family history and financial troubles, it would’ve been surprising if he hadn’t grown resentful of his face. The only good thing about it was that he got free noodles every once in a while. 

When he had noticed how different he looked as Yu Lianxin in his second life he had been pleased. Finally, he could look in the mirror without feeling complicated about it. Yay!

He scoffed.

The first time he had seen Su Xiyan he had to take a minute. Despite the lavish feast Huan Hua had organised, everything had felt like ash in his mouth. The first time he saw Luo Binghe, it was like he was seeing a doppelganger of himself as a child, and he avoided the boy whenever possible. Was it really his looks, Shang Qinghua? Or was it how neglected, touch-starved, and how-deprived of love he was? 

He thought he had been free of this face. But no, it had come back to haunt him in this third life. He’d have to dye his hair again. Red hair really was too conspicuous, especially in ancient fantasy China. He could get accused of being a huli jing or some fairy spirit or something. Typically those scenarios don’t tend to end well for the accused.

…Why was he so calm? He should be significantly more freaked out than this. 

Idly Yu Lianxin made the familiar motion that would bring the System’s screen up. For a moment he thought it wouldn’t appear, but lo and behold, the blue screen appeared right above his face. He raised an eyebrow. The interface was different.

Not only that, there was already a new notification. 

‘Gift Box Received!!!.’

Surely nothing would happen if he pressed this obviously suspicious button…what the hell. Yu Lianxin clicked it with all the alacrity of a man who hadn’t been repeatedly screwed over by the System.

Text filled the screen. Nothing else happened. He was almost disappointed. 

‘Hello User 0. You have been gifted a Total Recall package! Trial run currently in effect. Would you like to accept the offer? Learn more.’

‘Total recall package? What-oh so that's why he could remember the names of the freaking carp.’

He promptly clicked on Learn More. 

‘The Total Recall Package allows the user complete access to all their memories as well as the mental structures to keep the influx well maintained and organised. User can stagger the absorption of past memories in five levels in order to not be overwhelmed while still activating Total Recall for incoming new memories. Guaranteed to not cause any psychological strain whatsoever, and created specifically with User 0 in mind, the package will seamlessly integrate into User’s physiological and cultivation systems. Trial run provides a preview of Level 1.’

He certainly hadn't heard of this package from the system last time. He would have remembered the astronomical price it would’ve demanded for the service at the very least. Now he was getting it for free. Because it was a gift…but from whom?

He swiped back to the home screen. 

Gift Pack: Total Recall. Gifted by "You remember me don’t you?”

‘I remember you'.

Oh. That was…something. 

That hadn’t even been a napkin plotline. Well shit.

Alarmed, he read the note attached to the ‘gift’. 

‘Price already paid. Live by my name. Live as you wish.’

Live as he wishes? Ah…but did he wish to live anymore? Wasn’t it time to throw in the metaphorical towel and give death a try? Maybe it will finally stick this time. Yu Lianxin had great self-preservation instincts, he had always tried to stay alive in his past lives, whether it was by selling out to the masses, or by hugging thighs and betraying his sect, but a third time on the same ride was a it too much even for a self-proclaimed survival expert like him.

He was just…tired. He had really liked the story he had written and had been happy when his original outline returned, but look how that had turned out. So why should he go on? 

Maybe he should just leave it all be. Even if Shen Yuan didn’t transmigrate this time around, all the plot could do was just default into PIDW anyway. And Mobei-Jun had survived PIDW. He had lived to the end even after Luo Binghe’s realisation of his misery.

His King hadn’t survived whatever the plot had morphed into last time.

Without Shang Qinghua involved, maybe the Abyss wouldn't rupture. Sure Luo Binghe would be miserable, but he was always supposed to end up that way. Like him. So what’s the matter?

Why should anything-

“Shifu, you have to run! Shifu, save yourself!”

“Shifu, we’ll hold them off, you should leave!”

-matter?

“System. Download Total Recall.”

“Of course User 0! Would you like to stagger it by individual levels?”

“No. The entire package.”

“Understood! Preparing package for bulk download now!”

“...You’re remarkably agreeable.”

“The plot has concluded. System is now an assistive entity, designed to enhance User 0’s in-world experience. Additionally Member ‘You Remember Me Don’t You’ has modified System’s inventory space and it is now available for User 0 to use at his discretion!”

“Well tell ‘You Remember Me Don’t You’ that I appreciate it and that I have questions.”

“Noted! Now this might hurt!”

“No psychological strain my a-”

“Beginning Download!”

Yu Lianxin woke up in his bed with the world’s worst headache. Unlike last time, he wasn’t alone. Maids hustled and bustled all around him, and when one of them noticed he was awake, they burst into even more frenzy. One of them rushed out of the room, clearly ordered to inform his mother when he woke up.

An older maid rushed to his bedside. ‘Ye Jing’, his mind supplied. “Why did you do that young master? Wandering outside in your sleeping robes, and then falling asleep near the pond? Your robes were so dirty dragged all around like that! And not to mention your hair! All that grass!”

She helped him up and led him to the small adjacent room, which already had a tub of water prepared for his bath. Ye Jing continued berating him throughout his wash and didn’t let up even while getting him dressed for the day. In fact she didn’t stop until they reached the outer courtyard which held the pavilion his mother was most likely having tea in.

Ye Jing examined him from head to toe and then nodded firmly. He passed her inspection then. Before they stepped foot on the stone pathway to the pavilion however, she sighed. “Your mother is quite angry, young master. Be careful.”

Yu Lianxin stared at her in surprise. Ye Jing definitely hadn’t cared enough to warn him like this last time around. Would wonders never cease?

But then again, from what he can garner from his now perfect memories, things had indeed changed a lot. And it was all due to his face.

The pavilion appeared in the view just as they turned a curve and Yu Lianxin’s eyes fell upon the beautiful woman inside. 

Yu Daiyu. The most beautiful woman in the South. So beautiful that people even suspected her of being a spirit in disguise. His second mother. 

To say she was a great dancer was a colossal understatement. Yu Daiyu was the best. Even as Shang Qinghua, he had never seen someone better. She was so proud of her beauty and dancing talent that she hated anyone addressing her by her birth name, wanting to be known only as Daiyu. Black Jade. An appropriate stage name considering her lustrous black hair. 

Many courted her favour. Men so incredibly wealthy they could have anyone they wished, yet Daiyu had rejected them all. And then his second father had set his sights on her. The son of the wealthiest man in the South, the proverbial golden branch. Daiyu had allowed him to court her, was taken with him, and she did something most women in her profession should never do when it came to the men that approached them, something Daiyu didn’t think applied to her purely because she was Yu Daiyu, the most beautiful dancer in the world. She trusted him.

And when she left with him, she saw a life as the main wife-and perhaps even the only wife, for she was Yu Daiyu, what woman could satisfy her husband after he had her-of the future wealthiest man in the South.

But instead of all of that, she found herself a mistress. Stashed away in a modest manor like some dirty secret with the two children her lover didn’t even deign to give his name to. She was trapped. Her ambition had trapped her.

Yu Daiyu had been enraged. More than her heart it was her pride that had been wounded. How dare she be relegated as a mistress? Not even a concubine! A mistress! Her, Yu Daiyu!

However, someone of her position didn’t have much avenue to protest. So she resolved to make the most of it. One didn’t become as well known as her with talent alone, no they had to be ready to adapt, they must have the grit to endure. So she hunkered down and determined that she should swiftly bear a son. If she had a son then her status would be elevated no matter what he thought. Heirs solidified a family line after all.

But Yu Daiyu’s plans were foiled by the fact that the man she had once placed her trust onto took a legal wife from a prominent family and that woman bore a son within the year of their marriage. By that time, her own inability to bear children had worn down Yu Daiyu’s tolerance considerably, and it didn’t matter to her the hoards of gifts her lover gave her, or the various reasons he gave for not marrying her. Bearing the first born son would’ve been her chance to elevate her status but now even the road was closed. Any children born to her would be practically useless, as they would be a mistress’ children, and mistresses did not have any legal right in the family of their lovers.

So once again she had to adapt. Yu Daiyu’s next plan was to still have a son, and educate him so well that the Lin family would have to acknowledge the child, lest they let such a talent go. And so Yu Daiyu at last had a son, Yu Hao, courtesy name Cangxiao, and began to guide the child’s journey towards being Lin Hao. 

The child inherited his mother’s intelligence and he quickly excelled in his studies, impressing his father who took an interest in the boy’s development. His prolonged presence in the manor resulted in another child, Yu Hua, who unfortunately did not exhibit his brother’s brilliance, causing Yu Daiyu to decide not to invest much of her time in him. His courtesy name reflected that lack of care as while Cangxiao had been chosen with much deliberation and consultation, Lianxin was given to him purely because his mother’s semi-illiterate maid had said it sounded pretty while Yu Daiyu was boredly reading through some poetry book.

In PIDW, this would result in the Original Goods growing up bitter and neglected, his brother receiving all the opportunities while he languished in the shadows. The Original Goods may not have inherited his mother’s genius, but that hadn’t meant he was stupid, and in any case he had certainly inherited her ambition. That Yu Hua would have left home, made his way across Jianghu, got accepted into Cang Qiong, abandoned his name like his mother abandoned hers, betrayed the sect in his quest for power, and got himself killed by Mobei-Jun. He wouldn’t ever have thought back to his childhood home. If he had, he would’ve realised he was nothing but another version of his much hated mother. 

When Li Yuhuan entered this world as Yu Hua, he hadn’t had much ambition other than to survive, and he had tried his level best to not bring attention to himself. So the same cycle continued, and he left home at twelve, finessing his way across the kingdoms, just trying to fulfil his role in the plot and nothing else. But unlike the Original Goods, he did look back every once in a while, if only because he foresaw a future where his blood connection to the Lin Family could become useful while negotiating trade with the southern regions. 

He had learned that Yu Hao had never become Lin Hao but that he did become the overseer of a significant portion of the Lin Family’s trade routes, and that on learning this Yu Daiyu hung herself on corded bolts of black silk.

He hadn’t particularly cared. 

This time, the third time, things were even more different. Yu Hua was born with a beautiful face, and with hair as luminous as a flame. And Yu Daiyu apparently had many complicated feelings about that. 

Yu Hao was a splitting replica of his father. Yu Hua was supposed to be born a  combination of his father and mother, yet looking like neither. 

But he had been born with Li Yuhuan’s face. As a result his father even initially suspected he wasn’t his son, which had put Yu Daiyu in a difficult position. But he had been born with golden eyes, an eye colour that the baby had shared with his father’s late mother so the issue had resolved itself quickly. But Yu Daiyu didn’t forget the moment her third chance at rising to her rightful position almost came tumbling down.

Yu Hua then had the audacity to grow up beautiful, even more beautiful than his mother, who was famed as the most beautiful woman in the South, even though her dancing career had been over for years. 

Yu Daiyu had been simultaneously proud and angered. Because yes, her son was beautiful, he was the son of Yu Daiyu. It would’ve been surprising if he came out as anything less. At the same time how dare he eclipse her beauty, especially when her beauty had turned out to be insufficient in elevating her social status, when she was a simple mistress who could at this point in life only aim at becoming a damn concubine at best and that too by relying on her children. 

Her anger became worse when his grandfather became interested in Yu Hua, intrigued by the tale of a child born with his beloved wife’s eyes. How dare he attract more attention from the Lin family than Yu Hao, the son she painfully educated? How dare his beauty be enough, while hers wasn’t?

It all manifested in a Yu Daiyu who became a little bit unstable. Who decided to not let Yu Hua be educated as a young master should, but as a dancer like her. 

A complicated tableau of emotions. A recognition of her child’s potential as a dancer. The deep seated hope to pass on her legacy as the best dancer in not just the South, but all of Jianghu. But at the same time an intense resentment. A desire to not let him overshadow his brother who for so long Yu Daiyu had seen as the solution to her problems. A desire to see her younger son fall just like her, so that he would know her pain and humiliation- a punishment for overshadowing her .

‘What a mess’, Yu Lianxin thought as he sat down opposite her. Memories of countless hours of dancing under her supervision flowed through his mind. She was a brutal teacher, but you couldn’t say she was a bad teacher. Yu Daiyu respected her art too much for that. At least this explained his perfect posture. Yu Daiyu had literally smacked it into him. This body probably couldn’t slouch if it tried.

“I heard you made a disgrace of yourself today, rolling around on the ground in your sleeping robes”, she began, putting down her cup delicately.

Yu Lianxin said nothing. It's not like she wanted his answer anyway.

“What have you got to say for yourself?” When his silence continued, her irritation only grew. The next moment his head jerked to the side. Her facial expression hadn’t even twitched as she slapped him. 

Yu Daiyu stood up regally and turned to Ye Jing. “He would get no meals until he reflects and apologises for his shameful behaviour. See that he is confined to his rooms.” With that she swept out of the pavilion, not even looking back at her child. 

Yu Lianxin watched her walk away and curiously noted the lack of pain. It was as if her slap hadn’t even touched him. He had turned his head himself because that was what happened after a slap. Not from the force of her strike. This new development combined with his general apathy was concerning. He should probably look into that. 

Ye Jing bundled him off to his rooms, fussing all the while. On the way, he noticed an older boy staring at him from across the corridor. His brother left as soon as he realised he was caught staring and Yu Lianxin had to raise an eyebrow at that. How the dynamics had changed, just because he looked different. 

As the doors of his room closed behind him, he resolved to not care much about it all. ‘It won’t be my problem in a while anyway’.

After all, Yu Lianxin turned seven just next week.’

“System, bring up User Profile.”

“Certainly!”

“....”

“Well double shit.”

On the day of his birthday Yu Daiyu made the usual demand: perform the Dance of the Night Sprites. This was her white whale. Even someone as talented as her had never been able to perform this dance in full. She derived some perverse enjoyment in asking this of her young child. Seeing him fail disastrously soothed something inside her. 

But Yu Lianxin had spent the week acclimatising to his new body, letting his golden core recover. And with the new awareness his user profile had brought him…well it wasn’t an easy task, extremely challenging actually, but not impossible. 

Yu Daiyu had to watch stunned as he conquered even her white whale. Anger filled her entire being and she struck his leg so hard that he would’ve broken his leg if he weren’t what he was. But shockingly Yu Hao rushed to his defence, pushing their mother away and standing in front of him.

Something broke inside Yu Daiyu watching her younger son lying prone on the ground and her elder son looking at her as an enemy. She looked at the switch she used to discipline Yu Lianxin as if it was a foreign object.

Then she walked away from the commotion as if she hadn’t been the cause of it.

That night Yu Daiyu hung herself with three chi of corded black silk. 

And ironically, the Lin family finally decided to take them in as official members. Yu Daiyu did get what she wanted after all. 

Ah he really did write a tragedy.

The week their official acceptance to the Lin family could be finalised, Yu Lianxin vanished from the manor. The last person to have seen him was his brother Yu Hao, to whom he said only one thing. “Gege, I have decided to live according to my wishes. You should think about doing the same.”

Lin Xixian, the boy’s father sent out guards to find him, but despite his rather conspicuous hair, they found neither hide nor tail of the boy.

For his part Yu Lianxin watched the guards with the Lin family emblem combing the markets and smirked. Seamlessly the boy’s form shifted to that of an old woman, and she walked past the guards, none the wiser. 

It would be three years later that An Ding Peak Lord Zhang Anlei would choose a disciple from the entrance test, and feel something off about his choice, but not quite what. And if that boy struck up a curious interest in talismans and arrays, read a few too many scrolls and manuscripts about Hong Jing, well that really wasn't any of his business.

User Profile

User 000: Li Yuhuan

Role: An Ding Peak Lord Shang Qinghua

Species: Guǐ

Level: redacted

Chapter Text

Yue Qi collapsed to the ground in an exhausted heap. To his horror, he could feel his eyes stinging. Irritation laced through him. Pathetic . That was what he was. All his efforts, each and every one of them, had proved useless. No matter how hard he trained he just couldn’t  break through to the next stage of his cultivation. And now he was even crying like a child.

Why couldn’t he do it? Why? If he couldn’t even establish his Foundation, how could he hope to save Xiao-Jiu? To stand up to the Qiu and take Xiao-Jiu away from that hell? As it stood he couldn’t even live up to his shizun’s expectations. Shizun, who took a chance on a street rat like Yue Qi. Shizun, who took an illiterate orphan like him under his wing. Who was patient with him, praised him, cared for him. (The very same Shizun who wouldn’t let Yue Qi off the mountain to save Xiao-Jiu. Who didn’t believe his desperate pleas. Shizun who defended him and cared for him, but who didn’t trust him.)

Finally, the tears he had been trying to suppress broke through and Yue Qi sobbed, trying his best to muffle the sound against the ground. What use was he like this? What if he never broke through this hurdle in his cultivation? Without a Foundation, he wouldn’t be able to progress. If he couldn’t make progress, he wouldn’t be able to convince Shizun that he had promises to keep. That someone was waiting for him, waiting for him to fulfil his word.

Slowly his sobs petered out into silence, as they always do. Yue Qi stood, took a deep breath, dusted himself off, and once again took up his practice sword. He of all people couldn’t afford to wallow in his own misery. Xiao-Jiu was suffering ten times worse in that cursed house right at his moment. Yue Qi, personal disciple of Sect Leader, who got to wear silk robes, eat three times a day, and sleep on a good bed under a sturdy roof had no right to act miserable. Not when he had left Xiao-Jiu behind. So he locked it all away, slid into the first stance, and once again began his exercises. 

However he hadn't even made it through the first swing when he was interrupted by a voice. A very unfamiliar voice. “You know, for someone who is so annoyingly suited for cultivation, you sure do make stupid decisions.”

Yue Qi whirled around in surprise, sword at the ready. This was one of the more distant training grounds on Qiong Ding, and after months of using it regularly he had been fairly sure people had forgotten it even existed. So to hear another voice in the clearing was a shock. 

The first thing he noticed about the interloper was the yellow uniform. Pale and soothing, like the first light of dawn filtering into his room. Only one peak on Cang Qiong had uniforms in that shade. ‘An Ding’, his mind whispered. 

His hair was a reddish brown, held up in a tight ponytail with a sharp looking needle with a silver tassel hanging from it. He was wearing a face veil, so nothing else was visible. It had been something Yue Qi learned was not that strange among cultivators, even among men. It had surprised him during his first days in Cang Qiong, the way the unsaid rules of the mortal world were so easily discarded among cultivators. For who cared what one wore, if one could cleave through rocks and race through the heavens. It took some time for Yue Qi the slave brat to accustom himself to that kind of thinking, but he knew Xiao-Jiu would take to this life like a bird took to the skies. Xiao-Jiu was meant for freedom after all.

He focused back on his visitor. The disciple looked younger than him, but appearances meant nothing in the world of cultivation. So it was left to his robes to give away his position. And indeed they did. Qiong Ding worked closely with An Ding, and Yue Qi had seen enough An Ding disciples to recognise the intricate embroidery on the visitor’s sleeves-the hallmark of a senior inner disciple. 

The Qiong Ding disciple bowed and greeted his senior. “This shidi greets shixiong.”

The other man bowed in response, much more elegant than Yue Qi in the motion. “This shixiong greets shidi.”

They both came out of their bows, once again facing each other. It was the visitor who broke the silence.

“Though I suppose you shouldn’t get too familiar with calling me shixiong”, the other mused absently.

Yue Qi stiffened. That was a sentiment he was intimately familiar with in Cang Qiong among the seniors who knew of his origins. A good for nothing street rat who didn’t know his place and had the audacity to be chosen by the Sect Leader himself. Who thought he could dirty the good name of Cang Qiong with his filth. Those vicious whispers didn’t care for the hours of hard work he put into his cultivation. Every little bit of talent he showed was nothing more than a fluke to them. Sooner or later, they would mutter, his luck would run out and he would get kicked out. And things would return to how they should be.

Normally Yue Qi didn’t care for their opinions. Especially since most of them weren’t that great at cultivation, simply riding the path laid out for them by their influential families. The truly skilled cultivators, ones who dedicated their life towards cultivating, didn’t care the least where he came from as long as he didn’t make Cang Qiong lose face. So he had let their words slide off of his back like a waterfowl does water. 

He was on Cang Qiong to get strong enough to save Xiao-Jiu and nothing else. As far as Yue Qi was concerned, the only one whose words counted were Shizun’s. However, not paying them any heed didn’t mean he didn’t hear them. Didn’t mean he could let down his guard. He could predict how this encounter would go already. The venom this man was gonna spew barely hidden beneath the veneer of politeness. He braced himself for it. 

But that wasn’t what happened. His next words left Yue Qi at a loss for words.

“Considering you’re going to be Qiong Ding’s Head Disciple soon and I’m going to be your shidi then”, the yellow clad cultivator continued, malice nowhere in his voice. 

Yue Qi gaped. That…that was new. Then he realised he had been staring and rushed to reply before he could make a fool of himself. “This shidi thanks shixiong for his kind words, but this one would dare not presume his qualifications, would not dare to disrespect shixiong.” 

The words felt alien on his tongue, as alien as the silk adorning his frame. Yue Qi was not accustomed to the flourishes of language one had to employ in polite society. In fact, a year before, he hadn’t even known how to read or write. The rough language he had picked up from the streets and from the other slaves would surely give the elderly hallmasters a nasty shock. Every interaction had him carefully censoring his words so as to not make a mistake but he still felt like he was putting on an act even when it was his own tongue shaping the sounds. He was grateful that his status as the Sect Leader’s personal disciple kept most people at bay. It would’ve been exhausting to watch his words on top of enduring all the glares from those useless layabouts. 

The man didn’t seem to mind the awkwardness in his reply however. “And what exactly is shidi presuming? Isn't it already a foregone conclusion that you would become Head Disciple of Qiong Ding?”

The matter of fact way shixiong spoke once again stumped Yue Qi. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Shizun was training him to be Head Disciple. There were only so many administrative scrolls Shizun could leave on his desk before even the most dense of people realised Shizun’s intentions. Qiong Ding had naturally caught on before any of the other Peaks. What Yue Qi hadn’t expected was the awe and respect. Before there had been more curiosity than respect. Now most of them viewed him with some kind of wonder. It was honestly uncomfortable. The upside was that that vociferous bunch had suddenly found themselves a minority and had to curb their tongues lest they get reprimanded for shaming the Peak with their envy. 

Yue Qi would be lying if he said it wasn’t satisfying to see them bite their tongues.

But it still remains that the fact of his highly probable(Yue Qi wasn’t that sold on it really- despite all the evidence to the contrary) promotion was something either spat out through gritted teeth, spoken of in awed, hushed tones, or not spoken of at all. This nonchalant- It's a foregone conclusion, isn't it? -reaction wasn’t something he was used to. He didn’t know how to act. So he defaulted into a short bow.

“This one dare not presume, Shixiong.”

The man stared at him, a glint of something in his eye. Yue Qi badly wished to see under the veil. While he wasn’t as competent in the skill as Xiao-Jiu, Yue Qi was rather adept at reading people. It had saved his life many times before, especially on his way to Cang Qiong. A person’s face could tell you more about them than their mouths could. But while shixiong’s face veil looked gauzy and sheer, it didn’t reveal anything underneath it. Stitched in sigils most likely. So Yue Qi couldn’t get a read on him at all.

The senior disciple stepped further into the clearing and made his way towards him. Yue Qi tried very hard not to stiffen his posture or show weakness. 

“Let's agree to disagree on the matter ," the An Ding senior said, taking his arms out of his sleeves and revealing the wicked looking weapon on his left hand. It looked like a huzhi, and etched with vines and glinting in the light, it looked ready to disembowel someone. Yue Qi didn’t even pretend to appear unaffected. 

But shixiong did not gut him like a fish where he stood and walked past him, towards the sorry looking wooden dummies Yue Qi had been practising on. He idly traced one of the grooves on the dummy’s side and turned to Yue Qi. “What I wanted to know was why you were training as if there was a war coming and you had no intention of surviving?”

Yue Qi opened his mouth to spout off his usual answer about diligently working on his cultivation as was his duty, but something about shixiong’s phrasing stopped him. He didn’t have to wait long for a clarification either. 

“I say no intention of surviving because it was clear that you weren’t getting anywhere with this”, shixiong said pointing towards the battered dummy. “Instead of realising this and trying out alternate methods you just kept going through the motions.”

He walked to Yue Qi once again, facing the junior disciple. It was only then that Yue Qi realised that he was much bigger than the other, standing a good head taller than the yellow-clad disciple. That didn’t make the senior any less unnerving however. Yue Qi’s hardwon instincts told him to be vigilant, to not underestimate the figure before him. 

His eyes…were they gold? No, they're brown. Was it the light?

“In my home village there was a saying, that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” Yue Qi felt as if he was pinned down with the weight of his martial brother’s gaze. 

“Are you a madman, Yue Qi?”

Yue Qi held his breath. His mind was blank for a few precious moments. And then he felt anger race through his body. The grip he had on his sword tightened. This shixiong really had some nerve. What right did this person have to come into his training ground and question his methods? In the end, he really was here to mock Yue Qi wasn’t he?

“Then what does respected shixiong think this shidi should do? This junior was, after all, simply following the precepts of righteous cultivation, the methods laid out by the venerable ancestors of our sect. Please advise this ignorant one.” Yue Qi took care to inject as much honeyed poison in his voice as possible in his reply, channelling Xiao-Jiu’s toxic tongue. 

He expected offence to sweep through the other’s mien. He did not expect an undignified snort to be the reaction.

“Like I said, you’re annoyingly suited for cultivation. A once in ten generations kind of talent. That’s what’s got the vultures up there on Qiong Ding in a tizzy, the fact that they can never catch up to you despite their early start and illustrious pedigree rankles at them.” 

The senior disciple sat down on the ground without a care for his robes, and motioned for Yue Qi to join him. After a moment, Yue Qi did. He blamed his surprise for his easy acquiesce. His martial brother continued as Yue Qi placed his practice sword carefully on his lap.

“What I am trying to say, my dear shidi, is that you are prodigious. And that means that unlike the rest of us, multiple cultivation paths lay open before you to explore. You don’t have to stick to physical cultivation if you feel like it's not allowing you to progress past a block. You’re most suited for physical cultivation, yes, that much is obvious, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t suited for others.”

And Yue Qi had to object here. “But Shizun-

“Would tell you the same exact thing if he had the time to spare to come and see how you were doing, which he doesn’t because Zhao Hua Monastery is being a pain in the neck as usual and would continue to be so for at least another month. For a sect of Buddhist monks they sure are belligerent, aren’t they? ”

“I-I wouldn’t know shixiong.”

It had honestly never occurred to Yue Qi to try other cultivation methods. He hadn’t even known there were multiple cultivation paths till he became a disciple of Cang Qiong in the first place. As a mortal, cultivation was just stories about beautiful immortals flying through the skies on their swords. It was only after he had entered the world himself that he began to learn of its intricacies. Now nearly a year had passed and he still found himself floundering. 

He was most suited for physical cultivation, though the path Shizun had introduced to him was quite different from that of Bai Zhan. Less wild, more intense is what Shizun had called it. Shizun had even catered it to specifically suit Yue Qi. And maybe it was because of that, the need to prove Shizun’s decision and dedication right, that it never crossed his mind to slow down and look for other paths. 

But still. “I should be able to get past this on my own. Shizun tailored this path for me. I know I’m suited for this. This block…I should be able to break past it and establish my Foundation. I just don’t know why I can’t…

Why in the world was he being so vulnerable in front of this stranger. If Xiao-Jiu was here, the younger boy would hiss and drag him away. 

His shixiong just huffed, unaware of Yue Qi’s inner confusion. He lightly ran his strange nail guard weapon along the top of the grass, effortlessly slicing through many of the blades. Yue Qi suppressed a twitch. “Don’t be arrogant just because you’re a prodigy shidi. Your talent makes you special, your obstacles in cultivation do not. There’s not a single cultivator on this mountain who hasn't encountered a block in their cultivation at least once in their life. And if they tell you otherwise, they’re lying. No farmer has an easy harvest. Besides, it's not like you’re abandoning physical cultivation. Just finding a smoother path for a short part of your journey.”

Shixiong looked up at the sky then, and his hair needle gleamed dangerously. “The advantage of being in a sect in the first place is that you have the resources available to overcome hurdles like cultivation blocks. Qiong Ding’s cultivation halls are open to you. The entire medical library of Qian Cao is at your disposal. Bai Zhan is there if you’re feeling insane enough.”

Shixiong turned his head lazily to the side and their eyes met. The look in them was…strange. “Make use of the tools you can. When you're accustomed to scarcity, you forget to flourish in abundance. When you’re used to shrinking and hiding away, you forget to walk straight even when the roads are broad.”

Yue Qi started. His eyes narrowed in contemplation at his companion’s last words. Does shixiong know? Or was that just a coincidence? Does he know Yue Qi was just a street brat that caught the Sect Leader’s attention, and not the young master most of the sect seemed to think he is? 

Nonetheless his words rang true. He didn’t choose this training ground so far away from the Peak centre just because he wanted to be uninterrupted after all. He hadn’t wanted to subject himself to the glee in certain faces when they saw he was struggling. Honey in mouth, sword in belly. But why should he have to resort to this in the first place? He was the personal disciple of Cang Qiong’s Sect Leader. He had worked hard for this broad path. He shouldn't have had to struggle on his own when there were alternatives available. 

Xiao-Jiu wouldn’t have skulked around like this. Xiao-Jiu would have stood proud and defiant. How could Yue Qi hope to save him when he was still acting like an orphan street child? Determination raced through him like lightning and Yue Qi resolved to do better. Shizun’s personal disciple shouldn’t be cowering and weeping in the back hills. Xiao-Jiu’s Qi-ge shouldn’t act like he wasn’t a Sect Leader’s personal disciple. 

But first there were questions to be answered. “Why are you doing this, shixiong?”

Nothing came free. Everything had a price. Why did a senior disciple take the time to advise a junior from another peak they had no connection to? Matter of fact, why was shixiong in this part of Qiong Dig to begin with?

In response his martial brother stood up and dusted off some imaginary dust. All their robes were spelled against such things so it only served as a show of proprietary rather than anything actually useful. Yue Qi stood up as well, walking along with his martial brother to the edge of the clearing. 

“I’m definitely not doing this out of the kindness of my pure jade lotus heart shidi,” his senior said in a tone that hid some unseen joke, though Yue Qi certainly couldn’t see it. He turned to Yue Qi, and the Qiong Ding disciple just knew there was an impish grin beneath that veil.

“If the heavens decide to continue this course, then you’re going to be our next Sect Leader. Consider all this my preemptive hugging of your golden thighs shidi.”

Yue Qi choked on his own spit.

“By the way, considering the density of your heart demons, I’d suggest you visit Ku Xing instead of Qian Cao.”

“...Heart demons, shixiong?”

“I could see them from the sky, shidi. You don’t think I randomly drop in on strange disciples’ training sessions do you?”

“....”

“I resent that…But have you never actually wondered why you couldn’t just tell your shizun about why you keep trying to sneak off the mountain? Why you try to hasten your cultivation beyond what your body can safely handle even though He-shibo has reprimanded you many times? Why the words keep getting stuck in your throat?”

“I…How?”

“Gossip, Qiong Ding likes to talk. You should shut some of them up. And I also happen to have a working pair of eyes.”

“I see…”

“At this rate they’ll grow and overshadow your heart. And one day you’ll lose your words in front of someone much more important to you than even your shizun.”

“I….I’ll go to Ku Xing. Thanking shixiong for his advice.”

“...Don’t thank me yet Yue Qi.”

Yue Qi had forgotten to introduce himself. Shixiong hadn’t bothered to correct him. Shixiong had walked away without ever giving him a name.

But thankfully, just like shixiong said, Qiong Ding liked to talk .

Shixiong was Head Disciple of An Ding. Shixiong had somehow fixed Zhang-shibo’s demon filing system and An Ding had already threatened mutiny if anything happened to shixiong. 

Shixiong’s name was Yu Lianxin. Jade Lotus Heart.

“I’m definitely not doing this out of the kindness of my pure jade lotus heart shidi,”

Shixiong was insufferable.

Yu Lianxin(soon to be Shang Qinghua), set the report on Yue Qi entering Ku Xing’s meditation halls under the supervision of  Peak Lord Xu Anping aside with a hum.

Ensuring Yue Qingyuan remained in top form was a high priority, so that was one thing taken care of. He would need that strength in his corner in the future. Establishing a helpful rapport was essential before their ascension.

If those brats of his were to live happy lives, their sect needed to be a fortress that nobody could break through. 

And for that, first, An Ding had to become stronger. Their Peaks’s reputation would have be turned around. No one should ever think his kids were collateral damage or cannon fodder ever again.

An Ding was the spinal cord of Cang Qiong. Without it, the sect would’ve fallen apart ages ago. In his position as Peak Lord last time around, Shang Qinghua had dragged Cang Qiong kicking and screaming to the top, toppling Huan Hua as the wealthiest Sect. And he had succeeded because Yue Qingyuan was smart enough to realise money was important. (You’d be surprised by how many cultivators were ignorant of this very basic fact.)

But despite their hard work to keep the sect running, seldom was their importance recognised, and those that did see it, didn’t always acknowledge it. 

Because An Ding lacked strength in cultivation. Because they are cowards who run away. They were not like us, the good, respectable cultivators. 

Bull-fucking-shit.

Let’s see how these uppity immortal masters like it when An Ding didn’t run with the goods and lost their umpteenth bolt of spiritual silk. They can sit high and mighty and sip their precious tea, snootily sniffing at An Ding’s cowardliness, all the while not realising that on the monster-infested, bandit-overrun roads of Jianghu, if the couriers didn’t run in the other direction the first sign of trouble, especially when they were couriers who were wearing sect robes, which was pretty much a blaring ‘rich shit onboard, please rob me’ sign, you lose precious merchandise that cost multiple arms and multiple legs.

An Ding knew how to run because they were fucking logistics. They didn't expect Ku Xing to go out there and slaughter, did they? 

Besides, An Ding did know how to fight. It's just they also knew how to pick their battles. They were no Bai Zhan but they were still cultivators. They wouldn’t have been able to pull spiritual swords out of Wan Jian’s walls otherwise. But let’s ignore all that because they don’t act the right way. Let’s ignore all that because they do things immortal cultivators aren’t supposed to be concerned with…unimportant things like trade, finances, housekeeping.

Fucking idiots. 

Anyhow, in a test of pure physical strength no one would be able to beat an An Ding cargo disciple. Not when most of them spend their days just lifting. In a test of speed, no one could have beaten an An Ding courier when Shang Qinghua had been done with the lot, introducing them to some quality twenty first century speed. Gotta go fast right?

It was just that brute strength and pure speed won’t get you far if you don’t have technique. However, technique can be taught and Yu Lianxin already had several plans in the works for that.

But the main problem standing in his way was something else. An Ding had no unity. 

The system was broken , disciples were not taken care of, and the negligence on the part of the previous Peak Lords and the Sect as a whole had led to a everyman for himself mentality that just bred more and more resentment. An Ding as it was, was a breeding ground of bullying, disloyalty, and infighting. The disregard from the rest of the sect was not helping. 

An Ding Peak was essentially a gu cultivation vessel filled with snakes.

Last time around Shang Qinghua had emerged as the final survivor of the battle and had overhauled the system before he himself could be fed on. He had removed pests, hired the useful, and eliminated the waste from the Peak. And then he had gone and fixed the system. Class unity had naturally followed once the disciples realised they wouldn't be thrown to the howling wolf-scorpions at the drop of a hat. 

By the time the Qing generation had really settled into their roles, the well oiled machine he had turned An Ding into had rehabilitated much of the Peak’s image. While they were still not highly respected, they weren’t outright maliciously derided either(Except by Bai Zhan those damn muscleheads). And Shang Qinghua himself had managed a friendly if distant relationship with his martial siblings(At least until they learned of the betrayal). He hadn’t gone farther than that. 

This time he didn’t just need an overhaul. He needed a culling . And thankfully Zhang Anlei had always been a morally and ethically dubious bastard. Not the worst Peak Lord but someone so vastly uninterested that his presence and absence might as well be the same thing. He did keep an extensive mess hall though. Food was the only thing Zhang Anlei did not neglect and honestly it was that fact alone that stayed several murder attempts from multiple people. 

Securing An Ding would be done concurrently with securing Cang Qiong. Because for An Ding to be at its best, the sect needed to be at its best. For that to happen Yue Qingyuan needed to be at his best.

And for that…he needed to suffer. He needed to pull Xuan Su out of the wall. He needed to have that qi deviation and bind his soul to the blade. His shizun should have no other choice than to break every single bone in his student’s body, no solution other than to rip out the boy’s deviated cultivation coils, and rebuild Yue Qi from the ground up. 

The reason Yue Qingyuan was powerful enough to defeat Tianlang-Jun(besides his frankly astronomical talent), despite being younger and less experienced, was because of how perfect his meridians and cultivation pathways were. And the reason they were perfect was because they were artificial and carefully, painstakingly laid out by an external force over the course of a month. Qi could flow uninhibited and unimpeded, effortlessly filling his coils from his dantain, and that combined with the power of Xuan Su made for a devastating impact even for a full blooded heavenly demon. 

Yu Lianxin needed Yue Qi to once more reach that level of power. Advising him to purge his heart demons was counterproductive on first glance towards this goal. But he had plans to acquire Shen Jiu and it would be better for there to be no misunderstandings between the two. Cang Qiong would only be stronger for it. 

As for the qi-deviation, Yu Lianxin would just have to induce it himself. He had the perfect poison readied, and the artefact that would ensure Xuan Su’s little life force problem won’t happen again was on the house. Now wasn’t he nice?

Yue Qi really shouldn’t have thanked him.

A knock at his door. Wu Chunhua entered and bowed. “Da-shixiong, Sun-shixiong has reported that Qiu Jianlie has agreed to the deal. The hook is in.”

Yu Lianxin hummed in satisfaction. As predicted, there was no way a man as unscrupulous as Qiu Jianlie would refuse a way to make even more money, dealing in cursed and demonic artefacts or not. Reeling him towards the black market had been laughably easy, especially when one practically owned the black market. It had been a busy few years after all.

Yin-Huangfeng glinted in his hand. Now all that was left was to gut the man.

“And what of Xinyi-shimei?”, he asked, mentally adding a checkmark against Qiu Jianlie. 

“Chen Mei is a cautious individual, so Wang-shijie hasn’t yet been able to establish more than casual conversation at the moment. But she says it shows promise. We might be able to manoeuvre her into position by the expected time.”

Yu Lianxin sat back in his chair. Things were progressing as expected. “You have done well shimei. Get some rest. Be ready to head out in three day’s time.” He gave the child a warm smile which was enthusiastically returned. He chuckled as he watched her bounce towards the door. Wu Chunhua was so serious in her missions, but the moment they were over she turned into an energetic little bugger. 

“Oh and shimei?” He called out just before she was out the door, “Tell shifu that we’re doing some spring cleaning at Hall Mistress Yang’s Leisure House, so he should silence his bedroom properly before going to sleep.”

A beatific smile spread across Wu Chunhua’s face. “Will do Da-shixiong!”, she chirped and was on her way, a little skip in her step.

Yu Lianxin watched her go fondly and then turned to look at the various scrolls and reports scattered across his desk. An organised chaos only he could have made sense of. In another life, he would’ve sighed at the workload.

So many things left to do. Tracking down all his daughter-in-laws who were in trouble. Eliminating threats to An Ding and Cang Qiong. Managing his little Black Market project. Establishing covert trade connections with the Demon Realm. Tracking down Tianlang-Jun and Zhushi-Lang. Infiltrating the cesspit that was Huan Hua. Rebuilding and improving his information network. Finding his brats. Finding teachers for his brats(A good amount of them being his daughter-in-laws)....

His glance slid to the altar at the prime corner of his office, proper offerings arranged at the base, and spider lilies laid at its feet. Hong Jing stood to the side as it had taken to do these days. (He already knew Xiao-shigu was probably vibrating with research mania on Wan Jian.)

An intriguing mystery to solve. 

Truly there was no rest for the wicked.

Good thing he was dead. 

And as for the next step, well, the Palace just happened to be conducting a Selection Ceremony and how fortunate that Governor Xu Fengli’s sickly daughter had finally recovered enough to do her duty and serve the Son of Heaven at last. Truly the heavens were magnanimous.