The moment before Ren Xiaohan appeared in the room, Qin Jiuye had already restored everything to its original state and silently lay back down upon the bed.
Over the past few days, she had learned her own way of monitoring the movements outside. Today, Listening Wind Hall was exceptionally quiet; the "maids" and "servants" who previously loitered in the courtyard had all vanished. This had never happened before. A vague premonition coalesced in her heart, but she dared not let the thought expand, fearing she could not bear the weight of a failed hope. She simply told herself over and over to remain calm.
She would only have one chance. She could not afford to fail at the final moment.
"I heard you wanted to eat something. The Master and I are both very happy. What do you want? I’ll bring it to you."
Ren Xiaohan’s figure appeared in the room like a ghost. Qin Jiuye leaned against the headboard, still appearing as though she lacked the strength to even breathe.
"What do you like to eat?"
She answered his question with another. The boy froze for a moment, then allowed himself to be led by her words. He opened the cloth pouch he always carried, revealing a few crumbs inside.
"Rice crust! I couldn't bear to eat the pieces you gave me that day, but in the end, I finished them all."
His voice was tinged with regret, and the eyes he turned toward her were remarkably sincere.
Yet, the more sincere he appeared, the more terrifying he became.
"That day... what were you doing when you entered the city?"
She suddenly shifted the topic. He didn't understand her intent, but after a moment's thought, he answered truthfully.
"That was a task the Master gave me. He sent me to find someone and bring back a message."
"And then?"
"And then... things didn't go smoothly, so I had to kill him." Ren Xiaohan’s voice held a hint of apology, his clear eyes fixed steadily on her. "The Master is always at ease with my work. My blade technique is the best in the Ren Battalion. The Master said that as long as I don't make the scene too messy to clean up, I will always be his best helper."
Long after his voice faded, the woman before him took a heavy breath and asked calmly, "Besides the one in Listening Wind Hall, who else have you killed?"
"Many people. And... and that pharmacy shopkeeper..." Ren Xiaohan stopped halfway, lowering his head guiltily. "I didn't know how to handle corpses back then and nearly caused trouble for the Master. But I’m very efficient now, believe me..."
Qin Jiuye stared silently at that face until the boy became flustered. She seemed different than before, yet no matter how he scrutinized her, he couldn't pinpoint what had changed.
Finally, she spoke again, her voice unprecedentedly soft.
"Don't you like that rice crust? How about I make some for you?"
Ren Xiaohan stood up abruptly, dazed with disbelief for a long moment before murmuring, "Are... are you serious?"
"I am. I'll make it for you," she repeated, then lowered her head to count on her fingers. "But making it requires... three or four things. Can you help me get them?"
After she finished speaking, she whispered the items into his ear. Ren Xiaohan nodded and left, returning shortly after.
He strictly followed Ding Miao’s instructions not to let her step a single foot out of the room. When he left, he locked the door and returned the key to Ding Miao; when he returned, he would unlock the door, return the key again, and then enter.
Qin Jiuye observed everything wordlessly while her hands worked methodically. There was no stove in the room, so she used small bricks to build a fire pit on the floor. She then lit the charcoal and set a pot over it. She had done this countless times; normally it wouldn't take half a quarter-hour, but now she struggled for nearly an hour. By the time the aroma of scorched rice wafted from the pot, she was drenched in cold sweat.
Smoke accumulated in the unventilated room, but Ren Xiaohan seemed oblivious. He watched the pot with rapt attention, his voice full of admiration.
"You're so amazing. You're almost as amazing as the Master."
The corner of her mouth twitched. She reached out to lift the pot, but it tilted. Lacking the strength to steady it, she watched as it nearly fell onto her foot. Suddenly, a hand reached out from the side, grabbing the scalding pot barehanded and setting it aside.
The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. She instinctively looked at his hand, but he pulled it behind his back, his gaze never leaving the golden rice crust in the pot.
"It's fine. I don't feel pain."
*So, is this why Li Qiao lost?* Pain is the most primal instinct. A person who cannot feel pain will feel almost no fear in combat. How could such a swordsman not be terrifying?
But once removed from the world of blades and shadows and returned to the mundane flavors of life, this terror became a tragedy. He was more of a monster than Li Qiao; only those dull eyes occasionally revealed a flicker of human emotion, which vanished in an instant.
A flash of pity crossed Qin Jiuye’s heart. She used a spatula to break the rice crust into pieces and made one last attempt to speak.
"Have you ever thought that your Master might be no different from anyone else? The reason he is good to you isn't because he likes you, but because he needs you to kill for him."
Ren Xiaohan remained silent for a moment before saying, word by word, "No. The Master wouldn't. He is truly good to me. Before I met him, no one had ever been truly good to me. So I know he is different from the others." He finished and seemed to remember something, his eyes widening as he looked at her. "That day when I entered the city, you were afraid I’d be deceived, so you stopped me and took me aside, and even gave me rice crust to eat. You are also truly good to me, so you are different from the others too."
Yes, at that moment, she had been sincere. But what was the result? What did her sincerity buy her? She had personally allowed the murderer of Old Tang into the city, and now she was trapped under the same roof as his killer.
Qin Jiuye lowered her eyes, her gaze falling on the heap of brightly burning charcoal.
"In that case, I’ve helped you once, so you help me once. How about it?"
****** ****** ******
When Ding Miao’s shadow fell upon the door and window, Qin Jiuye had just finished counting to one hundred in her head.
She took a deep breath and waited for him to enter the room and meticulously close the door behind him.
"I can save lives, and I can take them."
Her time was short; she had to declare war directly. He followed her pointing finger through the haze of smoke in the room and saw the round-faced swordsman lying face down on the floor, his life or death uncertain.
"If you are angry that he killed Tang Shenyan, you can just kill him. I won't—"
Before he could finish, she interrupted him with a laugh.
"Don't you treat him like a child? How can you ignore the life or death of your own child? At all times, a family should be together, shouldn't they?" In just one day and night, the woman’s speech had become even more crazed than his, yet her tone held a calm born of sudden enlightenment. "I find speaking like we did before very awkward. I’d like to invite you to sit down and have a proper chat. You don't mind, do you?"
Qin Jiuye pointed to another chair by the table.
She invited him to sit, just as he had invited her to sit in the theater that day. Only this time, she was the one preparing to pull back the curtain on the play.
Ding Miao stood silently for a moment, then finally leaned on his bamboo staff, walked to the table, and slowly sat down.
For a moment, it was as if they had returned to that night on Lixin Lake, sitting as equals by the boat window, chatting about life and ideals like old friends. Two hearts drawing close through mutual understanding, with no one else to disturb their momentary union.
However, the next moment, when he saw the bone-chilling coldness in the woman’s eyes, all such illusions dissipated.
"I asked you before why you chose me, but you dodged the question, intent on pouring out your nauseating ideals and ambitions. I didn't care to press you for an answer then, but these past few days, I’ve figured it out myself. It’s because of Jia Thirteen, isn't it?"
After she spoke, the room remained silent for a long time before Ding Miao’s voice finally rose.
"Did Lord Yan tell you? Did he say I was burdened because of Jia Thirteen, reduced to a Tower Slave, and suffered greatly, so I harbor a grudge against him?" He paused, his gaze toward her filled with a discomforting tolerance. "I do hate him. But if I wanted to take revenge on him, wouldn't killing you be more..."
"When did I ever say you were doing all this to get revenge on Jia Thirteen?" The woman suddenly cut off his confession. Merely sitting at the table and dealing with him seemed to have exhausted her energy; she propped up her arm and beckoned him. "I really have no strength to speak. Come closer."
There was a brief silence. The man across from her clearly hadn't expected this, and in that silence, he pondered her reasons.
This was the first time in days she had asked him to approach voluntarily, but he knew it wasn't for the sake of intimacy. Perhaps it was to better swing a blade at him. Yet, he did it anyway.
The air in the room seemed to grow even hotter. He could feel her slightly feverish breath falling on his ear, and her voice, raspy from illness, sounded right against his skin.
"Actually... I never went to Yichun when I was a child."
The expression on the man’s face froze. The inquisitive curve of his lips stayed right where it was, neither rising nor falling. After a long time, he shifted his eyes to look at the woman’s face, only to find those bright black eyes staring at him without blinking.
He suddenly felt that they weren't eyes at all, but a long blade slowly unsheathing, its beginning and end nowhere in sight.
This time, it was Qin Jiuye’s turn to smile.
The illness made every word she uttered feel like a knife cutting her throat, but she couldn't help but smile. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated catharsis.
"I said, I had never been to Yichun before. Joining the crowd to find Di Mo recently was my first time setting foot on the territory of the First Villa Under Heaven. When I sneaked in from the back mountain, I saw an abandoned cave on the cliff. Though it was only a fleeting glimpse, the sight inside is something I will truly never forget..."
"Nonsense! That place was sealed off long ago, how could you possibly..."
His reflexive rebuttal suddenly cut off as he clearly thought of something.
"Those who escaped from there naturally have a way to find their way back." Qin Jiuye’s voice became increasingly deliberate; she wanted to savor the feeling of this long blade plunging inch by inch into her enemy’s body. "I thought it was strange at the time. When Lord Yan thoroughly investigated the matter as a Shadow Envoy, he should have had that passage sealed. Why would there be skeletons inside after all these years? And most of those skeletons belonged to children who weren't fully grown. The degree of decay varied, spanning at least five or six years. Even Di Mo wouldn't act so secretly. I was puzzled then, until recently, when I thought of a possibility..."
Ding Miao stood up abruptly, his body heaving with rapid breaths, nearly pressing against her face. She couldn't see his twisted, hideous expression, and she didn't care to look up.
Her gaze remained fixed forward, looking at the world outside blocked by the door and window, her eyes filled with a refined tranquility.
"The reason you imprisoned me by your side isn't just because of Li Qiao, but because you mistook me for someone else. And before me, you have already tortured and imprisoned countless girls like me. You exploited their kindness toward you, forced the identity of a dead person upon them, and compelled them to become your 'family' until they died from being unable to endure it. Their bones have already filled the cave on the back mountain, their souls trapped within, weeping day after day. And you, the one who committed this unforgivable crime, put on an act of deep affection and fragility. It is truly laughable and pathetic."
She had asked him that question shortly after being trapped here, yet he had never "recognized" her until she laid everything bare. She even felt that Ding Miao had never actually mistaken her; he had simply chosen self-deception amidst a cycle of lies. He knew she couldn't possibly be that girl, just as he knew that everything that happened seven years ago was beyond redemption.
"No, it's not like that. It's my fault, I shouldn't have given you that Infant-Hiding Incense..." He leaned down close to her, his expression as he looked up at her actually revealing a hint of humility, his tone like he was coaxing a naive child. "Since so much time has passed, it doesn't matter if you've forgotten for now. I still remember. I haven't forgotten a single word you said in all these years. You said you would take me away, so I kept thinking of it. I thought of it during those days in the dungeon, and I thought of it after I was released. I thought of it as a child, and I thought of it as an adult. I have remembered you for seven whole years—have you remembered me for even a single day?"
Qin Jiuye remained silent.
She knew that her silence now would be the most potent poison, the sharpest blade, capable of slicing through his impenetrable facade in an instant. He was like an insect constantly shedding its skin, struggling at her feet while writhing his ugly body as it emerged from the cocoon.
"That piece of charcoal you gave me to warm myself—I kept it with me always, clutching it tightly even during torture. No matter what torment I endured, no matter how much humiliation I suffered, as long as I could fulfill my promise to you, I could endure it all. But someone despicably exploited everything you left for me and stole the life that should have been mine. Qin Jiuye, your charcoal was clearly meant for me! The person you were supposed to take away was me! It was because you betrayed your vow that I became like this today!"
The man’s distorted questioning echoed in the room. This unprecedented outpouring left him gasping for air, having long lost his usual composed and measured demeanor.
Qin Jiuye took it all in, and after a long time, she reached out and gently stroked his cheek. The skin beneath her hand was burning from his frantic emotions; it trembled involuntarily the moment she touched it, and his entire body went limp.
"The reason you are so obsessed with identifying me is simply because, in that lotus marsh, I gave you half a mugwort bun, isn't it?"
That half a mugwort bun was an act of kindness from a chance encounter, devoid of any selfish interest, just like that handful of charcoal back then.
But in this world, kindness often meets no good end.
If the charcoal seller’s granddaughter hadn't taken pity on that servant from the Ding Battalion and given him scraps of charcoal for warmth, she and her grandfather wouldn't have been branded as traitors to the Villa and died without a place to be buried. If Qin Jiuye hadn't been soft-hearted on Lixin Lake and given that scholar half a mugwort bun, she wouldn't have provoked such a madman and been imprisoned and tortured.
*A fisherman's invitation leads to a lifelong grudge.*
When the Blind Physician dispensed medicine, could he have imagined the betrayal that would follow? The most precious spark of kindness in this world sometimes yields no reward and can even invite calamity.
Yet those who harbor such kindness do it anyway. That is precisely why those sparks of kindness are so precious.
"But the only reason I gave you that half a mugwort bun was because, after my grandfather rescued me years ago, he gave me half a piece of sugar cake. You compare all living beings to ants and plunge them into misery, refusing to believe that the poor and lowly of this world can possess a virtuous heart. How could you ever be worthy of receiving any of it?"
Her voice was more peaceful than ever. Her heart had not been destroyed by sorrow, anger, or despair; instead, after experiencing it all, it had become more transparent and resolute.
"Why..." He swayed at her feet, struggling in her palm, begging for an answer. "Why is it that he can steal things from me, but I cannot steal them back?"
He could accept being born a low-life. He could accept that he was born in hell. He could even convince himself that all the suffering he endured was merely the inevitable cycle of pain that comes with being human.
But since Heaven had written his life this way, why did it have to let him see Jia Thirteen’s life?
If Jia Thirteen didn't exist, he would believe his tragedy was destined and irreversible. But the other’s existence turned everything into a mockery.
Jia Thirteen could escape the Villa, could apprentice under Li Qingdao, could see the world outside, could meet her... All of this was because he despicably exploited that gift of kindness from Heaven—a kindness that should have been his.
"Because that is something you can desire but never obtain—a form of unconditional love that cannot be stolen."
The woman’s voice sounded in his ear as if coming from far away, yet it exploded right next to him, leaving him dizzy, his ears ringing and his mouth bitter. His stomach churned. He began to retch, and only after a long while did he sluggishly turn back to look at the temporary fire pit in the room. Only then did he notice that what was burning there wasn't kindling, but dark red charcoal, and something invisible had long since accumulated in the sealed room along with the smoke.
Infant-Hiding Incense was undoubtedly a peerless poison that caused one to sink into degradation; it was subtle, hard to detect, and even harder to neutralize. Even a demon as skilled in torture as Zhu Fuxue wouldn't know that as wicked as Infant-Hiding Incense was, it could neutralize charcoal poisoning. Such a strange and secret matter was something only someone as obsessed with toxicology as Zuo Ci’s disciple, White Death Cap, would spend effort researching. And she, by some stroke of luck or fate, had received his "personal instruction" after recklessly wading into the waters of the martial world.
The proprietor of the Surely Orchard, Qin Jiuye, had always been cautious. She had paid a price for straying from her established life and stepping into the storm, but in the end, it was from those very dangers that she glimpsed a chance to escape.
Qin Jiuye slowly stood up, unfastened the long-awaited key from Ding Miao’s waist, and walked step by step toward the door that led to freedom.
However, after only three steps, a sharp pain shot through her ankle.
The man’s hand gripped her ankle with terrifying strength. When he spoke, his voice actually carried a hint of a smile.
"Kill me, or perish here with me."
The obsession of a dying man could not be dissolved, and her body, weakened by the lingering effects of the drug, was powerless to break free. Qin Jiuye fell to the floor, gasping for breath. For a moment, she almost wanted to find a knife to hack off his hand and cut him into pieces.
But she didn't do it. For a man seeking death, that would only be a mercy. She simply looked into the man’s eyes, which had begun to glaze over, and slowly leaned in.
"Fine. What he owes you, I will repay in his stead."
Ding Miao looked up, his eyes wide. In this moment where madness and numbness coexisted, he almost pathologically expected her to use a sharp blade to pierce his flesh, break his bones, and cut out his heart. Only then could he stain her hands with his blood and drag her into hell with him.
Yet he received nothing of the sort.
Except for a bit of warmth—a faint but inextinguishable warmth.
She hugged him.
"This is what he received, but you did not."
He stared blankly into her eyes, seeing a distorted, blurred version of himself in those clear, dark depths.
"I have already deciphered the secret of the Wild Fragrance Seeds. Once I step out of here, everything will end. Even if I have to use my last breath, I will definitely stop you."
She whispered this into his ear, then ended the brief, emotionless embrace.
the last bit of warmth dissipated into the air, but the piece of charcoal he had clutched seven years ago suddenly flared up without warning, only to turn to ash in an instant. He felt an irreversible collapse, like a body long dead rotting into dust in a heartbeat.
His clenched fingers slumped open. It turned out he had never actually held that piece of charcoal.
Pale sunlight illuminated the scene, and a cold wind blew against her face. Her silhouette seemed to burn in the morning light as she left resolutely, moving further and further away. For a brief moment, his hand rested on the hidden arrow in his sleeve. As long as he pulled the trigger, the bolt would fly out, pierce her body, and take her soul. The bird would never be able to fly into the sky or escape this abyss.
He could use death to keep her forever, but in the end, he did not pull the trigger.
The final opportunity vanished in a flash. The tampered door closed again, leaving death and silence within the room.
He thought that, until the very end, he still hadn't been convinced by her. He just didn't know why he thought of the girl who had handed him the charcoal again, and of himself, clutching it tightly after taking it.
He thought, *if only we could have escaped back then.*
Just as Li Qingdao had taken Jia Thirteen and escaped, just as many years later, she had taken Li Qiao and escaped the First Villa Under Heaven.
But he never had such a chance.
He didn't mind exposing his complete, ugly self before her. Like those whose souls had been taken by the plague, he thought he had already died from the inside out, driven only by the will to destroy everything. But that day, when she asked if he had ever had a moment of lingering attachment, a moment where he wanted to stop everything, he had lied.
Of course he had such moments.
On the flower boat on Lixin Lake, he had used his final invitation to try and keep her. If she had been willing to stay and watch the fireworks with him that night, perhaps he would have stopped. He would have been willing to return to that unremarkable little village with her, shedding his identities from the academy and the Villa to just be a schoolteacher. In his spare time, he would talk with her, tease the naive children, and grow old in the quiet, ordinary years...
The bottom of the West Sacrificial Tower was dark, damp, and lifeless, never seeing the sun. The only living thing he could look up to was the tiny moss flowers on the stone walls of the great pit. The moss flowers were as small as rice grains, yet they bloomed on their own. With just a bit of sunlight and dew, they could live expansively and contentedly, grateful for their own existence at every moment. They never desired to transform into a red flower, nor did they suffer anxiety over the brevity of their lives. They belonged to no one, followed no one’s rules, and had their own meaning for existing.
The world should have belonged to that kind of peace.
Unfortunately, he could never possess such peace.
Ding Miao rolled over and used his last bit of strength to push over the fire pit. Sparks scattered, and the glowing red charcoal spilled across the floor, already beginning to turn gray and crumble at the edges.
*When purely black, it still has bone; at peak redness, all turns to ash.* He was destined to be shattered in this madness.
Three carts of charcoal were piled in the corner of the courtyard behind the west wing, as if they existed solely for this grand, impending conflagration. What a pity. He had prepared that charcoal because he wanted to wait for spring with her. Now, a whole winter’s worth of charcoal would be burned away in a single night.
At the end of that winter seven years ago, the charcoal seller and his granddaughter never saw the arrival of spring. The charcoal they delivered warmed the Villa through many long winter nights, but in the end, no one cared about their disappearance—except for him. In the middle of this winter seven years ago, as a Shadow Envoy of the First Villa Under Heaven, he was destined not to survive the Villa’s destruction. He would vanish from the world’s knowledge after this disaster ended, never possessing a name of his own until the very end.
He was born without a name, and he didn't need to be remembered in death. He was a shadow formed from the world’s grievances. That which stripped him of his conscience was the way of things. That which lured him into demonhood was the world itself. If the ways of the world did not change, if the people remained ignorant, someone like him would return again.
He only hoped that when that time came, there would still be someone as stubborn and tenacious as her willing to oppose him.
"Qin Jiuye, will you remember my name...?"
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 藏婴香 | Infant-Hiding Incense | A potent, subtle drug/poison used by Ding Miao. |
| 炭毒 | Charcoal poisoning | Carbon monoxide poisoning from burning charcoal in an unventilated room. |
| 影使 | Shadow Envoy | A high-ranking secret operative of the First Villa Under Heaven. |
| 塔奴 | Tower Slave | A low-status prisoner or servant kept in the West Sacrificial Tower. |
| 艾草馍馍 | Mugwort bun | A simple steamed bun made with mugwort. |
| 丁字营 | Ding Battalion | One of the divisions/camps within the First Villa Under Heaven. |
| 壬字营 | Ren Battalion | One of the divisions/camps within the First Villa Under Heaven. |
| 一味黑时犹有骨，十分红处便成灰 | When purely black, it still has bone; at peak redness, all turns to ash | A poetic line reflecting the nature of charcoal and the peak of passion/destruction. |
