Di Mo slowly rose from the old folding stool.
He was the master of that villa, but he was also a formless, boundless darkness within the martial world, delivering primal terrors and nightmares to anyone who dared defy him.
He was not tall, but the firelight in the corner of the stone chamber enveloped him, casting his shadow in every direction. The overlapping shadows on the stone walls flickered with the dancing flames, as if a hundred ghosts had been released from his physical shell, greedily searching for the next body to inhabit and consume.
He stood in the center of the stone chamber, then took a step back, revealing a patch of uneven ground beneath his feet.
Qiu Ling’s gaze slowly shifted downward. Only then did he notice a few lines of poetry faintly carved into the floor, previously obscured by the weeds. The characters were somewhat blurred by the erosion of moisture, their meaning only barely discernible.
*Lush is the pine at the valley’s floor, straggling the sprout on the mountain’s peak.*
*With a stem but an inch thick, the latter shades the hundred-foot tree.*
"These lines were carved with a shard of finger bone by a death-row prisoner once trapped here. They are also the reason I invited you to meet here today." Di Mo’s tone carried an irrepressible urgency, yet his voice grew lower, echoing through the stone chamber like a near-whisper. "The green pine fails to become a pillar of the state not because it is not straight and tall, but because it was placed in a low, sunken corner. The wild grass blots out the sun not because its roots are deep or its branches long, but simply because it grows upon a high mountain. All I have done is return everything to its rightful place. The stars and moon returning to their orbits, the Heavenly Dao proceeding in harmony—these are the iron laws and order that allow a golden age to persist. Maintaining that order is the very meaning of the Number One Villa’s existence."
The ambition and intent hidden within the man’s words were startling. Qiu Ling, sensing it acutely, could not help but speak.
"The martial world can no longer satisfy you? Do you intend to stretch your hand into the affairs of the imperial court as well?"
Di Mo ground his toe against the stone inscriptions on the floor, his posture a contradictory blend of pity and contempt. He did not give a direct answer, but the expression on his face said everything.
"Does Lord Broken Jade also share a state of mind similar to that prisoner? A heart tormented as if in a burning cage, struggling to break through something, only to end up flailing in place in vain?"
But the young man before him possessed a natural fortitude in his eyes, one not easily corrupted. "To be in a cage yet harbor a noble spirit—that is the true origin of this place’s name."
"And what of it? The end for a death-row prisoner is nothing more than turning into a pool of blood and white bone in a mean room, their soul trapped in the depths of this dark cavern, never to see the light of day. And you? Are you content with such a fate?"
Content with what? And what if he were not?
His fate and the fate of his family had long been tightly bound together. The weight he carried did not allow him to take a single false step; for this, he had to set aside useless emotions and lamentations.
Qiu Ling’s silence appeared to Di Mo as a form of wordless resistance. The latter slowly closed his eyes, as if recalling a distant past, his voice never ceasing.
"At the very least, I was not content. I was born in the Great Northern Wilderness. There, the wind bites to the bone and the sun is scorching. For three seasons of the year, one hardly sees a drop of rain. The air smells of dry grass and sand. Beneath one's feet is the vast, flat earth, and above is a sky so blue it turns purple. Only such a place can breed the fiercest wolf packs and the fastest horses." His voice stopped abruptly, and when it resumed, it had returned to its previous listless quality. "But after the age of twenty-eight, I could never return there. Now, I can only stay in places rich with moisture. If I leave this damp air for even a moment, I would cough up half my lungs. And all of this is thanks to that battle."
The Black Moon Army had fought countless campaigns. He did not specify which "battle" it was, yet he clearly wasn't worried that the man before him wouldn't understand.
That battle was the Battle of Juchao.
In the historical records of Xiangliang, there were only a few brief strokes regarding this battle. As for the reasons behind it, they were shrouded in deep secrecy. This old case from the previous dynasty had sunk into the depths of the sea of history with the ascension of the new Emperor; no one dared to investigate it or stir up the silt of the past.
However, a taboo becomes a taboo precisely because it often draws people to seek a truth they cannot find.
Regarding this battle, folk rumors were constant, eventually settling into tales of ghosts and gods. It was said that the twenty thousand iron cavalry of the Black Moon had disturbed a deity sleeping deep within Juchao. The deity brought down a calamity, turning the place into a sea of blood. Evil spirits crawled out from the depths of the ancient mountains, possessing soldiers tormented by injury and hunger, causing them to slaughter one another until dawn. In the depths of those mist-shrouded mountains, all civilization was cut off; even desperate cries were diluted by the water vapor and dissipated into nothingness, heard by no one.
Rumor had it that years later, merchant caravans passing through the area would often hear the shrill screams of those dead soldiers on the eve of a violent storm—or perhaps it was merely the echoing wails of ghosts trapped there.
And those who had been present back then would never be able to forget that sound for the rest of their lives. Every time they dreamed of that bloody, damp hell, the sound would echo in their ears.
Di Mo opened his eyes, his voice raspy from exertion.
"From the moment your father decided to abandon the Black Moon, I swore to sever all ties with the past. However, a man can command a blade, or even control another person, but he cannot control his own heart. It is not that I do not wish to let go of the past, but that the past refuses to let go of me."
He paced slowly through the stone chamber as he spoke. His posture was upright, but even though he walked very slowly, one could still see the subtle signs of his impaired legs.
It was a chronic condition left by years of torment from rheumatic bone pain. It could only be managed, never cured. While it wouldn't kill a person when it flared up, it would wear down their will, making them wish they were dead.
"My father never abandoned the Black Moon Army. If you understood him, you would not say such things." Qiu Ling gazed at the figure before him, eroded by disease, and repeated his father’s words from years ago verbatim. "If the world is free from war and strife from this day forward, then what does it matter if there is no Black Moon?"
As the words landed, Di Mo did not speak immediately.
For a moment, he felt as if he were not arguing with the eldest son of the Qiu family, but speaking face-to-face with that old friend he hadn't seen in over twenty years.
After a moment of silence, he finally gave voice to the cruel words that had been brewing in his heart for years.
"Internal stability and universal peace—the more those eight words are mentioned, the more they prove to be an impossible, hollow fantasy. Do you know that this Number One Villa was originally established in imitation of the systems of the previous dynasty? Rumor has it that back then, there was a courtyard set amidst deep mountains and bamboo forests. Those within were all descendants of martial arts masters. Upon completing their studies, they took it as their duty to uphold justice and protect the righteous path, entering the world to serve the virtuous and loyal. But in those days, martial arts flourished and grandmasters appeared in succession; no matter how sharp the blade, it was held in the hand of a wise man. Now, the world has changed. Those who manipulate the winds and clouds only want to grasp the killing blades firmly in their own hands. They have grown to dislike the old rules of 'the phoenix perching only on the parasol tree' or 'the qilin choosing its master.' That is why this Number One Villa exists, standing in a place of gloom, navigating the gray areas between black and white."
"There is no 'Number One under Heaven' in the Number One Villa. There are only a group of walking corpses driven by others. The Black Moon Army no longer has its Black Moon armor; all that remains are thousands of lonely ghosts who cannot find rest. We are all tormented people. What brings strangers together in a tight bond is never beauty or hope, but resentment and pain. If even you and I cannot forge an alliance and plot for the future, then no one can."
The Villa Master, his lung disease incurable, finished this long speech in one breath and began to cough and wheeze again.
He coughed violently, and bloodshot veins instantly bloomed in his eyes. He stared fixedly at the man in the green robe with those wide eyes, as if he wanted to inject his painful and frenzied soul into the other's body.
"No matter how well I manage this villa, in the eyes of those people, it is nothing more than a wild temple where martial outlaws gather. It cannot grace a formal stage or stir up a great storm. When they need it, they burn a stick of incense and bow; when they don't, they raze the temple and its god to the ground together, only to build another when the need arises later. I understand all of this, which is why I spent over a decade and broke hundreds of blades to compile this register. Only you, as a descendant of the Black Moon, are qualified to touch it."
Qiu Ling’s gaze fell upon the wooden box held out in both of the other man's hands.
He did not know what was inside the box, nor did he want to know, but Di Mo clearly would not let him have his way.
"This register has no name, yet it contains countless names of people. Picking any few at random could strip a layer of skin off the fireproof golden tiles of the Imperial City. Those who sought help from the villa yet despised everything about it—afterward, every single one of them wanted to vanish from this register. But even a flying swan leaves prints in the snow, let alone when blades enter the bone and blood is spilled. How can the things done and the people killed be easily erased, even if done by another's hand? To those who lust for power and stop at nothing to get it, this register is their Qingfeng Powder. However much pleasure it gave them then is exactly how much torment it can bring them now."
The cold wooden box touched his fingers. An indescribable discomfort caused Qiu Ling to pull away instantly, followed by three steps back.
"The 'killing blades' you speak of are all living human beings, not chess pieces for you to concoct poisons or manufacture power! A general issues a command, and the soldiers charge the front; the five banners are raised, lowered, or furled, and thousands are wounded, killed, or maimed. If you truly are a man of the old Black Moon who once fought alongside them, how can you say such things?"
A person’s retreat often stems from fear, and fear stems from a wavering will.
Di Mo smiled soundlessly, taking a step forward to close the distance between them once more.
"What of human lives? In years of famine or war, a life is cheaper than grass; it is merely a consumable. He who kills one is a thief; he who slaughters ten thousand is a hero. A general’s success is built on ten thousand rotting bones. Even your father wouldn't dare say there is no innocent blood behind the name of the Black Moon, would he?"
Qiu Ling’s breath hitched.
The mud-stained, bloody hand of an evil spirit had seized his mind—which he had defended for years to keep as white as snow—and branded it with a mark of sin. Something cold was seeping into his body through that brand, making it hard for him to resist as he sank deeper and deeper.
"There are people in this world who, from birth to death, will never know what they are meant to do. They are selfish and mediocre, drifting through life without ever possessing a sense of mission. They enjoy this peaceful era, thinking it is something they were born to have. They will spend their lives in uselessness and mediocrity, like the side branches on a great timber tree, fit only to be lopped off and burned as kindling."
Sharp, bone-piercing words spat from that mouth one by one, like ten thousand ghostly hands reaching out from hell, firmly grasping the body of the Qiu descendant, dragging him toward the bottomless abyss...
"Kindling is destined to burn itself to light the darkness for the wise. That is their mission. Since they cannot see clearly, I help them make the choice. This is the only way a peaceful world can endure forever. This is the ideal, invincible dynasty..."
*Is it? Is it really so?*
His silent question went unanswered. In his ears was only the whisper of the evil spirit, urging him to forsake the light and turn toward the darkness...
"Supervisor?"
A voice rang out, traveling from afar and stubbornly drilling into his ears.
Qiu Ling looked up in a daze, finding himself seemingly standing in a small alley. The last ray of sunset from the horizon stretched his shadow long across the ground.
He turned around somewhat sluggishly. What met his eyes was the slightly crooked, broken door of Listening Wind Hall. The woman in front of the door held a basket of sweet melons, looking at him with trepidation.
He blinked, suddenly feeling that the sunset cast upon him had warmth. That warmth dispelled the chill that had just been clinging to his bones, and something warm quietly returned to his body.
Seeing him look over, she quickly averted her gaze, staring only at the basket of melons in her arms. After a long moment, she spoke with some hesitation.
"Um... we've prepared some food to liven things up. If the Supervisor doesn't mind, would you like to join us for a simple meal? And, and while you're at it, see if these melons are ripe..."
Her voice was very soft, carrying a bit of uncertainty and a hint of subtle expectation. Yet, like a frail hand, it easily pulled back his body just as it was about to step through the gates of hell.
He stood there fixedly, as if he could see the ghostly hands waving desperately in the shadow behind him and hear the relentless ghostly whispers from the abyss.
"Supervisor?"
She called to him softly again. The summer twilight breeze brought the faint scent of mint from her body. The noisy sounds of people, mixed with a few laughing curses, drifted out from the half-open courtyard gate, mingled with the smell of cooking oil and woodsmoke. Through those sounds and scents, he could almost trace every one of those ordinary, vivid faces.
Finally, he nodded. The woman holding the melons smiled.
The gate of that simple little courtyard slowly closed before his eyes, and with it, those simple, laughing faces were hidden deep within his heart.
Qiu Ling opened his eyes. His feet were once again planted in that dark, damp stone chamber.
Di Mo’s words were undoubtedly highly inflammatory because everything he said was true. During these years of carrying heavy burdens within the court, Qiu Ling had personally experienced these truths. This was why Di Mo was certain he would eventually choose to step into the darkness.
If not for that single thought on the fifth day of the fifth month that led him to sit in that courtyard.
If he had not met her.
Qiu Ling slowly raised his head.
The struggle and wavering vanished from his eyes in an instant. Like a solitary pine on a cliff shaking off the wind and snow, he once again revealed his verdant branches, prepared to welcome the spring after a long winter night.
"Who is the pillar and who is the kindling... is not for you to decide."
****** ****** ******
Qin Jiuye silently counted to three in her heart before turning to look at Zhu Fuxue.
The woman was still dressed in white as pure as snow, but the youth named Yu Xiao was no longer by her side.
But even if the opponent was alone, she still had no chance of winning.
Qin Jiuye withdrew her gaze and performed a composed greeting.
"Greetings, Sect Leader Zhu. I wonder if the Sect Leader is satisfied with my Heavenly Pivot Pill?"
Zhu Fuxue seemed not to have expected her reaction to be so calm. She paused before speaking.
"I haven't seen you for two days, yet first you latched onto Lord Broken Jade, and now you've run to the Villa Master’s place to steal flowers. I truly underestimated you."
"Sect Leader Zhu must be joking. Lord Broken Jade and I are here at the Villa Master’s invitation. To say I am stealing flowers is truly a misunderstanding."
After saying this, Qin Jiuye looked up and quickly observed the other woman's expression.
In one short sentence, she had brought up Kunxu and dragged in the Number One Villa. Her purpose was to remind the woman before her that if she wanted to do anything now, she had better weigh the consequences carefully.
However, her warning seemed to strike the other woman as something amusing, causing her to giggle.
"Are you trying to intimidate me?" Zhu Fuxue finished laughing, then continued in a leisurely manner, "My relationship with Di Mo is perhaps more intimate and solid than you imagine. Even if I were to kill someone in his very living quarters, he wouldn't do anything to me."
The other's arrogant attitude gave Qin Jiuye a few hints.
Although she had never met Di Mo, it wasn't hard to see from his actions that he was likely even worse than Zhu Fuxue. Cruel and cold-blooded people do not have bonds of sworn brotherhood or intimate friendship. The strongest relationship in their hearts was nothing more than being co-conspirators or accomplices. It was because they held each other's secrets that they could form so-called alliances.
She had once followed the hunters of Dingweng Village into the mountains to hunt wolves in the winter. The hunters told her: two jackals caught in a trap would initially appear united and firm, but in reality, after only two or three days, they would bare their fangs at each other due to hunger. And when two jackals in the same pit tore at each other, they were often even more vicious than when they were outside.
If jackals were like this, how much more so for humans after they turned on each other?
From this, one could see that the martial world structure forged by the Number One Villa was not a monolithic, unbreakable block.
Qin Jiuye continued to keep her head bowed and her back hunched, hiding her thoughts completely while her mouth continuously churned out cheap flattery.
"The Sect Leader is mighty. From the first moment I saw you, I was awestruck by your heroic and domineering presence. I am a person of little experience; seeing these double-petaled lotuses today, as red as fire, I couldn't help but be dazed. These lotuses compared to common moss flowers are like the Sect Leader compared to the rabble of the martial world. Moss flowers bloom in the morning and die by the grave, but the Sect Leader can stand tall in the martial world for thousands of generations. It makes one want to be close, yet also fills one with awe; even a single extra glance feels like a desecration."
Heaven be my witness, she was just a physician who called things as they were. Now, she was taking the flowery phrases Tang Shenyan usually used in his storytelling and applying them to this thorn-covered, venomous Zhu Fuxue. Before she even finished speaking, the hair on the back of her neck was already standing up.
Zhu Fuxue, naturally, could not see the hair on her neck. She only found the woman's cowardly, fawning manner exceptionally amusing, and her eyes narrowed comfortably.
"You do have some insight. Speaking of these Fudi Lotuses, I was the one who originally gave them to Di Mo. I just didn't expect..." She paused suddenly, as if remembering something interesting. "He isn't a man who knows how to appreciate flowers, but no one understands the principle of making the best use of things better than him. These lotuses are now quite the extraordinary existence in the Number One Villa. Since it's a rare visit for you, Shopkeeper Qin, why not take something unique back with you?"
As Zhu Fuxue spoke, her slender white hand swept over the lotus pond. Her gesture of "offering borrowed flowers to a guest" reminded Qin Jiuye of the old aunties at the village entrance shouting to sell wild radishes before winter.
*Pah, the aunties of Dingweng Village don't have such malicious hearts.*
"Thank you for your kindness, Sect Leader, but I have heard that although these Fudi Lotuses are bright and moving, their stems and roots are poisonous. My skills are meager; it is better for me to stay away from such toxins."
As she spoke, she deftly stepped back a few paces, distancing herself from both the lotus pond and Zhu Fuxue.
Her trickery exposed, Zhu Fuxue’s smile froze on her face. In the next moment, a bit of water vapor drifted over, blurring her expression into a hazy smear.
The shadow at her feet flickered against the stone wall with the torches. If one stared long enough, one would feel her shadow was much longer and narrower than a normal person's, like a winding great serpent extending from beneath her skirt into the darkness behind her, completely blocking the light from outside the cave and the path of exit.
The villa disciple who had led the way earlier had long since vanished. The narrow stone path could be seen to its end in one glance; only she and Zhu Fuxue remained.
Zhu Fuxue had a deep relationship with the Villa Master, Di Mo, and those around Di Mo were familiar with Zhu Fuxue’s temperament. They had likely cleared out early to avoid being caught in the crossfire.
Following her experience by the banks of Lixin Lake that night, Qin Jiuye felt she had once again become a salted fish left out on a stone beach, while an arrogant water bird paced beside her, pondering how to slowly tear the flesh from her body piece by piece.
"Why are you hiding? I won't eat you."
Zhu Fuxue’s voice rang out again, this time so close it was practically against her face.
Qin Jiuye tried hard not to look at that ghost-like face, speaking with a forced smile.
"On such a fine day, the Sect Leader must have many things to attend to. Why waste time on a small fry like me?"
"Not at all. I am quite free, and I simply want to keep you company. You see, that Lord Broken Jade went to see Di Mo alone, leaving you here all by yourself. It truly makes one's heart go cold." The more she spoke, the more amused she became, and she looked around with feigned surprise. "By the way, where is that younger brother of yours? Why isn't he by your side today?"
What was bound to come had finally arrived.
Zhu Fuxue’s words were like a sword hanging overhead, falling without mercy. Yet Qin Jiuye felt her heart relax; her trepidation actually dissipated somewhat.
She believed Li Qiao had no grievances with Luosha Gate, but "the elephant is killed for its tusks"—a man's talent is his own undoing. She wasn't stupid; she could see that Zhu Fuxue’s repeated targeting of them was because she had other designs.
The woman wanted to take Li Qiao for herself, perhaps to replace Yu Xiao, or perhaps just to place him in some corner of her sect as a beautiful decoration, something she could play with whenever she liked and discard for something new once she grew bored.
Just like those countless young, silent figures on that flower boat.
Her ten fingers tightened within her sleeves. Qin Jiuye raised her head, her expression still sincere.
"Sect Leader Zhu may not know, but my brother has legs of his own. He goes where he wishes; as his sister, I naturally cannot control him."
Not only could she not control him, but no one else could either.
These words, combined with the expression on the woman's face, could be said to have performed "passive-aggression" to perfection. For Zhu Fuxue, her tongue was usually the thing that made others wish they were dead; when had she ever suffered such a subtle setback?
Anger began to burn in the depths of her eyes, yet those eyes became even more gorgeous because of it, like the evil red lotuses about to bloom in the pond.
"Flowers that the master has worked hard to cultivate and carefully water—others need permission even to glance at them, let alone pluck them and keep them by their side. How can that not be considered theft?" Zhu Fuxue spoke as she approached step by step. "I do not like arrogant people. I can tolerate Di Mo, but I have no reason to tolerate you."
The two were already standing very close. For every step the other took forward, Qin Jiuye involuntarily took two steps back. But after seven or eight steps, her heel caught, her body stumbled, and she found herself backed against the steaming pond.
The heat rising from the hot spring teased her back, carrying a slightly pungent odor, reminding her at every moment: she had no way to retreat.
Her two experiences dealing with this woman told Qin Jiuye that the person before her was a somewhat bored monster who enjoyed finding pleasure in the pain of others.
Zhu Fuxue could have easily tortured and killed her for fun, but she hadn't done so, clearly because she had found other amusement in her. And she had to grasp the subtle balance within this—she couldn't make the woman feel bored, yet she couldn't truly enrage her either.
However, understanding it was one thing; being able to do it was another.
Fear is an instinct. A person can control their words and actions, but they often find it very hard to control their instincts.
Swallowing hard, Qin Jiuye tried her best to keep her voice from trembling too violently.
"It's clear the Villa Master has very good taste. The things he likes, the Sect Leader surely likes as well. But there are so many lotuses in this pond, and since they were all carefully cultivated, why must the Sect Leader be fixated on a single one?"
Zhu Fuxue clearly liked her question. One hand reached past her, straight toward the pond of lotuses. She casually selected the one that looked the most full and vibrant. In the next moment, her fingertips exerted force, and she twisted off the head of that Fudi Lotus.
Green sap meandered across Zhu Fuxue’s fair skin, pooling at her crimson-dyed fingertips, poised to drip. She slowly raised her hand and leisurely smeared the sap from her fingertips onto the space between Qin Jiuye’s brows.
"What I like is not any particular flower, but the pleasure of snapping it. You see how this lotus looks so fragile it couldn't withstand being plucked, yet there are thorns hidden on the stem. The stiffer and more thorn-covered it is, the crisper the sound when you snap it, and the more abundant the sap that flows out. You can let its poison cause stinging and burning on your skin, yet it can never escape your palm. Can you truly not appreciate the joy in that?"
As Zhu Fuxue’s words landed, Qin Jiuye already felt the sap between her brows slowly seeping into her skin, bringing a faint stinging sensation.
It was the poisonous sap of the Fudi Lotus taking effect.
Thanks to Xu Qiuchi, after personally witnessing that scene of flying flesh and blood on the flower boat last night, Qin Jiuye did not find it difficult to understand Zhu Fuxue’s nearly pathological logic.
Peaches, plums, apricots, and pears bloom across entire trees, yet scholars and recluses prefer the solitary orchid. Canaries and lapdogs are more docile and endearing, yet noble scions prefer to keep hawks, wolves, tigers, and leopards. Those with cruel natures in high positions were mostly like this. Stepping on the backs of the weak did not bring them satisfaction; snapping the wings of the strong better showcased their power.
The more the victim resisted, the more excited the oppressor became.
And having witnessed the various things on that flower boat, she had also recalled Zhu Fuxue’s every word and action by the lake that night, and thus understood even more the choice the youth had made back then, kneeling in the dust to endure everything.
He would rather let others humiliate, ravage, and trample him than return to that hellish, lightless prison of the past. How could she help the tyrant, turning around to sell him to these devils?
A surge of energy, coming from who knows where, turned into hot blood that rushed to the top of her head. It caused Qin Jiuye’s heart, which had been trembling with fear until now, to suddenly beat with exceptional strength. Something overrode her will to survive, gushing out the moment she spoke.
"Since the Sect Leader is so proficient in the methods of plucking lotuses, you should understand that as long as the hand plucking the flower is strong enough, there is no branch in this world that cannot be snapped, and no red flower that cannot be obtained. If one remains obsessed with the act of plucking for too long, how do they know they won't one day become a flower for others to pluck?"
Zhu Fuxue’s hand, stained with sap, slowly lowered, but her eyelids lifted. Her two eyes stared fixedly at Qin Jiuye’s face.
The girl had compared her to a red lotus and spoken a string of fawning lies, only to have this waiting for her.
Whether it was plucking flowers or killing people, it was all just a game of power.
No one could carve their name forever onto that throne called power. Its owner could be anyone, and into whose hands it passed, and how long it remained there, was always unknown.
The allure of power lay precisely in this. The evil of power also lay precisely in this.
She thought few could understand the true essence of this, yet she never expected that one day she would hear these words from the mouth of such an unexpected person.
How much had she paid to ascend to the position of Sect Leader? How much had she paid to remain in that position?
At this moment, no one could stand above her, not even Di Mo.
Let alone this village girl who looked like a mere sprout of kindling.
"You have quite the courage beneath that small frame of yours," Zhu Fuxue’s voice rang out eerily, like the hiss of a venomous snake. "Unfortunately, you do not understand me. I am a person who can least keep these hands of mine idle. If I don't snap something every day, I feel a scratching, gnawing discomfort in my heart."
Before the words had even finished, a sharp pain shot from beneath Qin Jiuye's ribs. She looked down and saw that one of Zhu Fuxue’s fingers had, at some point, pressed against her chest. The sharp nail sank deep into her body, firmly gripping her rib through her flesh, as if it were about to snap the bone in the next moment.
Zhu Fuxue’s gaze fell upon her from above, like looking down at a lowly weed.
"Who is the flower to be plucked and who is the plucker was decided long ago. If no one cultivated them, who would see these red flowers? It is precisely because they are soaked in this pungent hot spring, being boiled at every moment, that the Fudi Lotus can bloom with a color as red as blood and as dazzlingly beautiful as this. Being available for people to pluck is the reason these lotuses are kept in the pond, just as some people are born to a fate of being driven and enslaved by others."
Qin Jiuye used every ounce of her strength to keep herself from trembling before the other woman. The sharp pressure against her ribs made breathing difficult, but the contempt in the woman's words was far more unbearable than the physical torment.
Taking several deep breaths, a few hints of a smile actually appeared on her face. Her voice was intermittent yet carried a sense of resolve.
"Whether a rare flower or a wild weed, in one autumn they both become mud. Whether a golden palace or a thatched hut, after a thousand years they both become ruins. Beauty, ugliness, poverty, wealth, nobility, or baseness—once one stops breathing, it is all just rotting flesh and white bone. All things in this world share the same source and the same end. Where did you come from, Sect Leader Zhu, and where are you going?"
Zhu Fuxue gazed into Qin Jiuye’s pitch-black pupils, as if trying to see her own reflection in those eyes.
Where did she come from? She could no longer remember those things from long ago. What she looked like before was not important; what was important was how she looked now.
Her red lips parted slightly, and Zhu Fuxue’s voice became low and seductive. Her other hand wound around Qin Jiuye’s body like a snake.
"Your words suddenly remind me of something. Where exactly did that cheap brother of yours come from, and why does he insist on staying by the side of a mere pharmacy shopkeeper, even preferring to offend me by silencing Yu Xiao? Why don't I take a guess..." Her voice stopped by the girl's ear, her fair hand lingering over the other's heart and neck. "...I guess it's all because you cured him of the Qingfeng Powder, isn't it?"
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
郁郁涧底松，离离山上苗 | Lush is the pine at the valley’s floor, straggling the sprout on the mountain’s peak | A poem by Zuo Si (Jin Dynasty) critiquing social hierarchy where status trumps merit.
居巢一战 | Battle of Juchao | A mysterious, bloody historical battle mentioned in the text.
福蒂莲 | Fudi Lotus | A rare, blood-red lotus; the name "Fudi" (伏帝) implies "Subduing the Emperor."
晴风散 | Qingfeng Powder | A potent drug/poison mentioned as both addictive and tormenting.
听风堂 | Listening Wind Hall | Qin Jiuye's pharmacy/residence.
落砂门 | Luosha Gate | The sect led by Zhu Fuxue.
天枢丹 | Heavenly Pivot Pill | A pill previously mentioned/given by Qin Jiuye.
