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The street they stepped off their swords onto was filthy. It had barely changed at all in the past decade, the same stores lining it and the same people milling about, though of course there was new youths and everyone vaguely recognizable looked weathered, damaged by age. The same corners were still occupied by beggars. Shen Qingqiu wrinkled his nose as his pristine white boot met the paved path. A sense of horrible nostalgia washed over him, and he could still see himself, small and wretched, sobbing into Qi-ge's chest to evoke pity and make some money. Money that would go straight back to the slavers, of course, and all they got in return was to not be beaten for underperforming. With conscious effort, he shook it off. Glancing down at his hand, now settled at the hilt of Xiu Ya. A hand that was perfectly pristine; white and clean, nails manicured. The hand of a master cultivator. No traces of the scarred, filthy, eczema-ridden hands of an urchin.
A glance at Yue Qingyuan made it obvious that he was doing the same. The way he closed his eyes, took in a breath, and straightened his shoulders let him let go of the memories. The succeeding disciple of Qiong Ding and Cang Qiong was there with him, not the helpless slave Yue Qi.
People from all over had stopped to stare at the two silk-clad cultivators who had stopped by. Some of the faces, Shen Qingqiu recognized.
“Are you alright, A-Jiu?” Qi-ge murmured. It was so quiet that only a cultivator standing just by him could possibly hear it. Shen Qingqiu smiled – the corner of his mouth tilted a tiny bit upwards, but his face otherwise remained jade. Here, he was A-Jiu, not Xiao Jiu. The name was beloved, but standing here on this street, too raw.
“Don’t ask stupid questions, Qi-ge. I’ve told you so a thousand times.”
“Of course. I apologize.” Pleased, as always, to be corrected in such a way. Yue Qi had always been odd, and he had become no less so when he was made Head Disciple of Qiong Ding.
“Good. Now come.” With that, he strode forward.
It has been almost a decade since he last stepped a foot here. Almost two since they were here together, kneeling in a corner to beg for food or ruining their young bodies with labour and beatings. Sometimes, there’s still an itch in his fingers from when the baker stomped on his hand for trying to take a bun that had been dropped into the mud. The bones had shattered. Mu Qingfang had needed to rebreak them to heal it properly, many years later.
The same bakery still stood there, on the corner. It looked shabby. He never noticed it before, trying to inch close enough to feel the warmth from the ovens or desperately trying to fill his stomach with just the scent of fresh bread, but it did. The paint was peeling, and the sign was worn.
The people of Qiu Town parted for them like they were emperors. Compared to these wretches, they might as well be. Shen Qingqiu leered at the baker as he peeked out of his worn-down building, wanting a peek of the immortal masters. The man paled. Satisfaction bloomed in Shen Qingqiu’s chest. Perhaps it was not as good as some of the things he would have liked to do to the man who used to beat them for trying to eat the food he’d already dropped in the mud, but it would have to do. This man didn’t matter, after all. He was nothing.
None of them recognized him, or Yue Qingyuan. Of course they didn't. They couldn't look past the many layers of clothing of the finest fabrics and most delicate embroidery. The silver guan in his shiny hair, which reached to his knees. The expression of his face most of all, perhaps, as he sneered. They were pathetic and disgusting, and they should know that this immortal master thought so.
Next to him, Yue Qingyuan’s expression was perfectly neutral, at least to them. It told them nothing about what he thought, except that he did not mind what Shen Qingqiu thinks. But Shen Qingqiu knew, and delighted in it. Hidden behind the pleasantness of Cang Qiong’s next sect leader was pleasure. Delight at how much farther than these people they’ve come, how they’re powerful and these people were nothing . Yue Qingyuan could kill someone right now, and no one would be able to do anything about it. He would not, because he was righteous and good – unlike Shen Qingqiu, who would not because it would be too annoying to explain to his master – but he could . Dark street corners and too-full slave quarters are in him, too, even if his way of hiding it is more palatable to others.
As he swept his gaze over the streets where he had spent a few months of his horrible childhood – the slavers often moved cities with them – before getting bought Qiu Jianluo, he could only hide his amazement of how ugly the place actually was. And how small. It had felt enormous as a starved twelve-year-old. But the town was barely mid-size, and most of the buildings were worn down by age. The Qius were, after all, only a minor provincial noble family. The kind that would have tobow – and had bowed – down to families such as the Lius. Shen Qingqiu did not feel any particular affection for his idiotic shidi, and he did in fact quite loathe his inability to stop for one second and think before he acted, but he would be the first one to admit that having such a connection was useful . He himself had directly benefitted of it, after all, when Qi-ge brought his influence to force the Qius to sell Shen Jiu. Plus, the brute had kept Qi-ge's promise. There had never been a single word spoken about where Shen Jiu and Yue Qi had come from, though speculation was rife on the peaks.
They passed by the corner of the main street, where someone sat curled up. The man – for it was a man, and an older one – was dressed in rags with a bowl situated on the ground in front of him. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t going to give him even a single glance, but Yue Qingyuan did, and Shen Qingqiu always noticed when his Qi-ge turned unsettled. He frowned, and turned to actually look . The beggar looked wretched. His clothes, tattered. His hands, red from rashes. His face, covered in an unkept beard. But even then... The shape of his nose, the rise of his forehead... Then he spoke.
The beggar bowed. In a pitiful, dry voice, he murmured, “Pray the immortal masters spare a coin for this lowly one.”
Yes, Shen Qingqiu knew that voice. Even now, even though he had not heard that voice since this creature was not even – probably – ten years old, he knew it. It was the voice that had told the masters, It was Jiu all those years ago.
The voice that had sentenced him to the hell that was the Qiu Estate.
“Shiwu?” Yue Qingyuan asked, something deeply odd in his voice. Like someone was strangling him.
It was enough to make Shiwu – number Fifteen – unfold from his stiff bow (such poor form) to stare up at them, startled. Fear shone in his eyes, but then also confusion. His eyes widened as the confusion cleared. “Qi-ge?”
“That is Immortal Master Yue to you.” Shen Qingqiu interjected, venomous. He stared down his nose at this wretched thing that had ruined his life once. “Show some respect.”
“That’s alright, Qingqiu-shidi,” Yue Qingyuan said, soothing. He wasn’t looking at Shiwu anymore. His eyes were only for Shen Qingqiu, and that was as it should be. “There was no way for him to know.”
Scoffing, Shen Qingqiu replied, “No way? Look at yourself, Qi-ge. Even a blind man would know that you are someone who matters . Unlike this... thing.” He turned back to stare at Shiwu, whose face had gone pale. Of course he recognized Shen Jiu now. He looked mostly like he had done back when he had left Qiu Town, though of course he had matured into proper adulthood and was no longer covered in bruises and was no longer marred by starvation. Soon after that, though, his cultivation had been enough to stop his aging. Unlike Shiwu, who looked far older than the twenty-five he probably was, Shen Qingqiu still looked to be in his early twenties. A peerless immortal beauty.
Not to mention, who else would accompany Yue Qi, call him Qi-ge, and get only smiles in return as he viciously insulted people? (Who else knew that Qi-ge found it funny when he did, as long as he agreed his target even moderately deserved it?)
“What the fuck,” Shiwu muttered, sounding dizzy.
Shen Qingqiu gave him a vicious smile. “Surprised, Shiwu? That the boy you betrayed – after Qi-ge saved your life – isn't dead? I am the succeeding disciple of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s second peak now. And I see that you are still here, wallowing in your own filth. Just as you deserve.”
Shiwu paled even further, and glanced to Yue Qingyuan, just as the children had always done when Shen Jiu was spitting venom. Yue Qingyuan did not look back, staring instead into the distance. There would be no help there. Yue Qingyuan was a good man. A kind one. But he, too, held his grudges with the vicious grubbiness that only a slave could. The expression on his face was a perfect neutral pleasantness, telling you nothing of what he was thinking. But there was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes, if you knew where to look. Qi-ge, who had cared so much about all their fellow slave children, everyone’s big brother, had no mercy left to give for the one who had handed Xiao Jiu over to save his own skin.
“Let’s go, Qingqiu-shidi,” he just said mildly. With an elegant movement, he dropped a silver coin into Shiwu’s dish, as he did with every beggar they met on the streets. He then folded his hands into his sleeves. “We have an appointment, after all, and it would not do to be late.”
Pulling his scholar’s fan from his sleeve, Shen Qingqiu flicked it and hid his face behind it. “As you say, Qi-ge. This master is starting to feel filthy just by breathing the same air as this traitor.”
When they turned their backs to Shiwu, he could sense the way he wanted to scream curses at them, but also the fear that held him back. They were immortal masters now: if they wanted to kill a beggar in plain daylight, no one would stop them. All they would have to do was say that he had tried to steal from them, and no one would think it unjustified. And even if they did, what could they possibly do about it?
“I wasn’t expecting to see him again.” Yue Qingyuan’s voice was faint. Uneasy. “Why was he here, still?”
Shen Qingqiu was glad for the fan, and for being able to hide behind it. “Presumably he was sold,” he commented idly. “And his owners threw him out or something after the slavers had already left again. Lucky man, I suppose. Better to be a beggar than a beggar slave.” It was the most likely scenario. The slavers never stayed anywhere for longer than a few years: the three plus years they had stayed here had already been an anomaly, but there had been a surprising amount of people willing to rent slaves for day labour to make it worth their while. There was no way they were still here after a decade, so Shiwu had to be the only one left. He eyed the other. “...Are you okay, Qi-ge?”
“Of course, A-Jiu,” he replied automatically. At Shen Qingqiu’s unimpressed glare, he looked apologetic before taking a moment to take measure of himself. Then he nodded. “I am. I promise. I just wasn’t expecting to see him. I am... angry, still, I think.”
“Of course you are. Qi-ge would never forgive such treatment of his Xiao Jiu.” He blinked coquettishly. Yue Qingyuan’s cheeks went faintly red.
“Never,” he vowed.
There had never been any hint of uncertainty in his voice when he said such things. Just like there hadn’t been when Shen Qingqiu – then still Shen Jiu – had cornered him in the library after watching some female disciples fall over themselves trying to charm the future sect leader. Being the sect leader’s wife was a good gig, after all. Xiao Jiu would not allow Qi-ge to get taken advantage of in such a way. He had pressed him up against the tall bookshelves and demanded You’re mine, Qi-ge. You’re not allowed to look at anyone else. Say it. Say you belong to me. And Qi-ge, with almost horrifying ease, had agreed: I belong only to Xiao Jiu. All that I am is yours .
Shen Qingqiu was his, too, but not like that. He couldn’t, after all the times Qiu Jianluo had made him repeat how he was property, owned, not human. He would never belong to anyone in that way again. The thought made him sick. Qi-ge was Xiao Jiu’s, and Shen Qingqiu was his own. But Qi-ge was all he would ever want, and that was enough.
They walked in silence through the streets they had frequented as children. Yue Qingyuan’s warmth radiated through his many layers of robes even as they walked with a – barely – respectable distance between them.
It wasn’t long until they left the busiest part of town and entered the merchants’ quarter. Named so because mainly the richest lived here, and most of the wealthy people of Qiu Town were merchants. This part had its own main street, which was lined by tall houses built to impress. Once, they had seemed like the height of status and wealth. As Shen Qingqiu looked at them now, he found them lacking. Provincial and gaudy. Designed by people desperate to prove their worth, rather than by people who could rest assured that no one would question their right to be here. Shen Qingqiu was not even the Peak Lord yet, and still his personal quarters at Qing Jing were superior to these buildings. The Qing Jing Head Disciple’s house had been built for elegance and class, rather than to scream about wealth. The fortune it had cost was implicit, not explicit.
At the end of the road, behind towering walls, stood Shen Jiu’s own personal hell.
The Qiu Estate was massive. It consisted of multiple buildings, courtyards and gardens, all of which had been visited by Shen Jiu at least once. The Qiu siblings had loved to drag him along with them wherever they went. Ice filled Shen Qingqiu’s veins as he stared up at it. The buildings were in white and grey stone painted with red details, and the windows were glass. As he stared at it, the phantom pain of a window’s broken shards cutting into his arms ghosted over him. When he managed to tear his eyes away down to the gate, there was instead the burning of hot oil being poured on his legs as a punishment for trying to run away. His heart flickered in his chest. The memory of screams caught in his throat.
“A-Jiu,” a beloved voice broke through the haze. “Qingqiu. It’s alright. You’re safe now. We’re both safe now. Qi-ge came back for you.” It was soft, and a warm hand hovered over his shoulder. Not touching. Never touching, not without permission. Shen Qingqiu gave a short nod. The hand settled over the many layers of fabrics of his robes. No one wore as many layers as he did, he knew that. But it was a comfort to wrap himself up and keep his body from the world. Hidden in silks as fine as those of the imperial family.
Shen Qingqiu took a deep breath, and exhaled. Qiu Jianluo could not touch him anymore. He was a free man. Qi-ge and the brute had seen to that. No one who mattered – except Zhangmen-shibo and his shizun – knew he had not been born to wealth, much less that he had been more wretched than anyone on the mountain. He was the future Peak Lord of Qing Jing, the future second-in-command and strategist-scholar of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. And he had clawed his way to the position with nothing but his own wit and talents. He had beaten out lords and ladies who had spent their whole lives studying the four scholarly arts and preparing to go into cultivation.
Qiu Jianluo, who had inherited a lower noble estate in his teens, was nothing.
This time when he looked at the manor, it was with new eyes. How gaudy , he realized. Massive, yes, but just like those merchants’ houses it was overly decorated and built to impress those below. No one with actual class would think this place actually looked good . Pathetic.
Still, his hands squeezed his fan harder than necessary as he stepped forward. Toward the estate. Qi-ge remained steadily at his side.
The guards at the gate were quick to rush off when they were informed that two rogue cultivators were here and wanting to speak with Lord Qiu. They were shown inside by a fretting housekeeper, who seemed extremely nervous about them. Shen Qingqiu did not recognize her, though, so she had clearly been hired after he was sold and freed. Thus, her nervosity was probably only due to having two cultivators here, and not about their history with the place. Even a rogue cultivator had standing among the masses.
They were, of course, offered seats, but remained standing. Shen Qingqiu would not kneel, not even in front of a table. Not here. Not around him .
It didn't take long until Qiu Jianluo arrived, and as always, he was followed by Qiu Haitang. Which was both surprising – because she is much surpassed the age where noble ladies should have been married by now – and unsurprising – considering how weird he had always been about his sister. There’s another woman too, and by the way she was dressed, she was presumably his wife. Qiu Jianluo was older now, is the first thing Shen Qingqiu noted, almost in the back of his head. There’s a momentary dizzy feeling as he saw his childhood’s worst tormentor, before he forcibly cleared his mind. He could afford to lose focus here. But the Qiu Jianluo who stood before him now was thirty years old. He looked young, still, as members of the nobility often do due to the lack of strife in their lives, but a few wrinkles had started gathering by the corner of his eyes. His clothes were as exquisite as always and yet... Shen Qingqiu’s were better.
It only took a moment, because Shen Qingqiu still looked so much like himself, but recognition dawned in his eyes.
It did the same in Qiu Haitang’s. “Xiao Jiu!” she exclaimed, honey-brown eyes widening in shock as she took him in. “You- You’re-” At first, she didn't seem to know what to say, but then she exclaimed, “You never answered my letters! And you never came to visit! How could you, after everything we did for you!?”
Shen Qingqiu just inclined his head slightly. “It is Shen Qingqiu now, Miss Haitang. Head disciple of Qing Jing Peak.”
“Only for another two months now.” Yue Qingyuan gave the same superficial bow of his head. “The ascension ceremony is soon. This one is Yue Qingyuan, head disciple of Qiong Ding Peak. You might remember me as Yue Qi.”
“You’re the one who took my Xiao Jiu away,” she replied resentfully, glaring. “My fiancé .”
The unknown woman – the presumed Madam Qiu – furrowed her brows over her otherwise blank face, showing exactly what she thought of that concept. A typical noble lady, disgusted by the thought of one of her peers marrying someone of the slave class. Something that Shen Qingqiu, distinguished as he was, would never escape, as long as there were people who knew he belonged to it, free or not, cultivator or not. But she bowed politely to the both of them, just as deep as a lady should to two men of their positions. She did not speak. Shen Qingqiu imagined Qiu Jianluo was not the type to allow his wife to speak to men more than she absolutely had to. Which probably wasn’t a lot, considering she had servants who could do it for her.
“Why are you here?” Qiu Jianluo demanded, hatred so ripe in his voice that even Haitang couldn’t ignore it. She glanced at him, brow furrowed. “What do you want ?”
“You might want to send the ladies out for this, Lord Qiu,” Yue Qingyuan replied pleasantly. “This conversation will not be fit for a woman’s ears.”
That much was nonsense, of course. Women could handle the disgusting parts of the world just as well as a man, or be just as vicious: Qi-shimei was evidence of that. Though Shen Qingqiu still retained the belief that women, on the whole, were far less cruel and dangerous than men. But it made a good reason for Qiu Haitang and Madam Qiu not to be in the room for this.
Qiu Jianluo glared, suspicious, but it looked like he was still not willing to allow his sister to see him as anything but a benevolent, kind older brother, and so he gestured for them to leave. Qiu Haitang looked like she might protest, but the look her brother gave her had her scrunch up in face in displeasure but obey. The door closed behind them. Madam Qiu had not shown any resistance about leaving.
“ Well ?” he demanded once they were out. “What could a treasonous rat like you possibly want-” His words cut off as the cold steel of Xiu Ya pressed against the underside of his jaw.
“Easy,” Shen Qingqiu replied, keeping his voice monotone. “I want to wrap up the loose ends before I become a peak lord.”
Yue Qingyuan did quick work of the guards in the room, not even giving them the chance to scream. Xuan Su flew through the room, knocking them out. Or killing them. Shen Qingqiu didn’t know, nor did he care. They would be dead at the end of this. There would be no witnesses.
When he joined them, staring down at the frozen Qiu Jianluo from Shen Qingqiu’s side, Yue Qingyuan showed a side he had hidden away a long time ago. A kick sent Qiu Jianluo flying, and a hand to his hair forced him back up on his knees. Shen Qingqiu watched in satisfaction.
Unlike Shen Jiu, Qiu Jianluo had never been treated in such a way, and so, he screamed. Only Shen Qingqiu whipping out silencing talismans and sending them to each of the four walls of the room kept new guards – or possibly the Qiu women – from rushing in. A cruel smile made its way onto his face as Yue Qingyuan forced the screaming Qiu Jianluo to bow down to the floor, the grip on his hair completely unforgiving. He wasn't gentle about the bow either: there was a knock as Qiu Jianluo’s forehead hit the stone floor.
“If you beg Master Shen’s forgiveness, we’ll kill you quickly,” Yue Qingyuan informed him. His eyes were hard as stone, but his tone was almost friendly. “If you do not, I will make you suffer .”
Shen Qingqiu had never wanted to touch Qiu Jianluo again. Every time that man put his hands on him, whether it was a punch or a gentle caress, he had wanted to flay both of them. Even more so after the hands started climbing under his clothes. No, he was never, ever going to touch that monster again. Why would he, when he didn’t have to? As he mused, Yue Qingyuan bashed Qiu Jianluo’s head into the floor again. The disgusting little man was bleeding, now. From his forehead, and from his nose.
Yes, the future sect leader was more than happy to do Shen Qingqiu’s dirty work for him.
“Well?” Yue Qingyuan asked, as polite as ever.
“You’re disgusting!” Qiu Jianluo cried. “How dare you do this to this lord! I will have you both tortured to death!”
“As a child, I suspected you might not be very bright,” Shen Qingqiu commented idly. “But I’m glad to have confirmation of your idiocy. You will not do anything. Because you are going to die in this room for what you did to me.”
As Yue Qingyuan jerked the man upright, almost bending his back over backwards with force, Qiu Jianluo actually laughed. The sound sent an icy chill up Shen Qingqiu’s spine. “What I did to you? You’re barely more than an animal! A filthy little whore who should’ve been grateful for the attention of-”
His words turned into a shriek as Yue Qingyuan brought down his heel onto his hand, grinding it down. “Don’t you ever talk to Xiao Jiu again,” he hissed. “You’re repulsive, worthless, shameful vermin, and he has always been too good for you. To be fair, even a fucking cockroach would be too good for someone like you . Xiao Jiu is going to be the second-in-command of Cang Qiong, and you are going to be dead . I’ll tear you to pieces.”
Even Shen Qingqiu stared, taken aback. His eyes were wide as he watched Yue Qingyuan, Qi-ge, grind Qiu Jianluo’s bones into dust. Yue Qingyuan could be ruthless, of course he could. He had also clawed his way up from the slave markets to the top of the world. The benevolence that seemed to come naturally to him had to be ignored at times to make that possible. But this ? He had never seen him relish in someone’s pain before. That had always been Xiao Jiu’s non-guilty pleasure, while Qi-ge looked at him with disappointment for it.
Now, Shen Qingqiu could only gape as he watched Yue Qingyuan slowly pull a man apart, uncaring about the blood and the screams. It took a long time, but eventually he held the gasping, sobbing Qiu Jianluo up only by his hair. “Does A-Jiu want to do it?” he asked, voice warm all of a sudden as he looked at Shen Qingqiu. His eyes were bright with bloodlust, and his black robes were tinted red.
Shen Qingqiu looked down at the man who had tortured him for years in every way possible. A man whose limbs were now mangled worse than anything he’d ever done to Xiao Jiu, if only because he wouldn’t have been able to hide that from his sister. A man whose aristocratic face had turned into a grimace of horrific pain. With a flick of his fingers, he formed a sword seal, and Xiu Ya slit the man’s throat.
Qiu Jianluo died choking on his own blood.
After he had taken his final breath, Yue Qingyuan kicked him to the side.
“Clean yourself up,” Shen Qingqiu told him, eyeing all the filth with disgust. “You look horrible.”
The smile was back on Yue Qingyuan’s face. “My apologies, A-Jiu.” He went through his qiankun sleeve until he found both rags to wash his face and hands with, and a change of clothes. In a clean corner of the room, Yue Qingyuan changed under Shen Qingqiu’s watchful eye. Though his hair still had blood in it, it was harder to detect, and he no longer looked like he’d committed a gruesome murder. A little blood on a cultivator was hardly an unusual thing and could be explained away with nighthunt issues.
“So,” Shen Qingqiu said. “We’re going to have to kill a lot of people now.”
Yue Qingyuan hummed. “Some, I’m sure. Anyone who was here a decade ago, definitely. But we both know Qiu Jianluo was a hated master, even to those he employed rather than owned. I am sure that we can work something out.”
“Be sure that you do. I will not have this come back to haunt us later, Qi-ge. I’ll kill everyone if that’s what it takes to keep our positions secure.”
With clearly telegraphed movements, Yue Qingyuan came close and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Let Qi-ge handle this, A-Jiu. I’ll make sure it doesn’t, with minimal bloodshed.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine, you bleeding heart. Honestly. You can do this -” He gestured at the body. “-to a man, but you can’t stand spilling some blood now?”
“He deserved it. I will never regret killing a monster. But most of the servants have done nothing.”
With a sigh, Shen Qingqiu acquiesced. Well, whatever. All it would take was probably some skilled convincing and a lot of money, and both of those was something that Yue Qingyuan had in spades.
When they left the room, they found Qiu Haitang standing out there anxiously, flitting back and forth. Madam Qiu was settled by a low table, calmly drinking tea. There was a second, untouched cup on the table as well. Yue Qingyuan carefully closed the door behind them, which was lucky because Qiu Haitang came rushing the moment she saw them.
“Gege? Why isn’t gege coming!?” she demanded, voice shrill.
“I would recommend you do not go in there,” Yue Qingyuan told her kindly. “Your brother is not in a shape to be seen. By anyone. Ever again.”
“ What?!”
“He’s dead,” Shen Qingqiu told her frankly. “Repayment for everything he did to me when I was a child. You never knew, because he would have actually killed me if I showed any obvious signs of what he did.”
Qiu Haitang shook where she stood, shaking her head. “No. No. No, no. That’s not possible. He wouldn’t- You can’t-” She didn’t seem to know what part of what they were saying was worse, but tears started falling down her cheeks. From the side of the room, Madam Qiu just looked up from her tea for a moment before taking another sip, apparently unbothered.
Shen Qingqiu was starting to like her.
“You were kind to me, Miss Haitang,” he said. “You were stupid and naive to not notice that the boy you claimed to love was your brother’s favourite whipping boy, but you were kind. This will be better for both of us. Did you know that...” He had to close his eyes for a moment before he could say it, but he needed Qiu Haitang to understand, to keep quiet. When he spoke again, his voice was steel. “Qiu Jianluo liked to fuck me in your bed when you were away to visit your aunt. Remember. I was fourteen. You were thirteen.”
“No...” All strength left her voice. Her face. Her eyes. She sank to the floor.
“You were kind to me,” he repeated. “So we won’t touch you.”
“As long as you do not speak a word of this to anyone,” Yue Qingyuan amended. Pity mixed with burning conviction in his eyes. “But you will only get one chance. If you tell anyone about any of this, I will not hesitate to silence you. No one is that clumsy, Miss Haitang. No one breaks every bone in their hand on accident one week, and then can barely walk because of a head injury from ‘falling down the stairs’ the next. The only reason you did not know what was happening is that you did not want to know. Willful ignorance is almost as bad as knowing.”
“I want to die,” she whispered, staring at nothing. “Please kill me.”
Shen Qingqiu sighed. “What you do now is up to you. Unless your brother has sons, you will share the Qiu estate with Madam Qiu. If you wish to finally get married, you may write and I will arrange an advantageous match for you. Otherwise, we are done. There is nothing left to be owed between us.” He bowed to her. It would be the final time he ever bowed to a Qiu. “I am sorry for your pain, Miss Haitang. But this was justice.”
Yue Qingyuan turned to Madam Qiu and bowed. “Can we count on your silence as well, Madam?”
With a soft sigh, she stood up and made her way over to Haitang, settling a hand on her head as the girl – woman, now – shook with sobs. “You can, daozhang. I had no love for my husband, and we only have a daughter. I cannot say that I am not relieved that he will not be here to watch her grow into a woman.”
Shen Qingqiu nodded, and with a sweep of his wide sleeves, he turned his back to them and left this cursed place. Yue Qingyuan stayed behind to deal with the aftermath.
When he was done there, Yue Qingyuan found Xiao Jiu by the river. He stood silently beneath a large oak tree, fan covering his face as he stared at the rushing water. It was the same tree they had used as their meeting spot for when they got separated as children, and it had not been hard to figure out that this is where he would be. After killing those servants and guards who had to be killed (the ones who were loyal and the ones who had contributed to Xiao Jiu’s suffering) and discussing terms of keeping silent with the remainders (money had been exchanged, yes, and they had also sworn unbreakable oaths, he was taking no chances) he had been offered a chance to wash the blood out of his hair by Madam Qiu.
From what little she had revealed, she had been neutral at best about her husband, and certainly concerned that he would be as weird about their daughter as he was about his sister. Said sister had been bundled up by her handmaids and put to bed, from what Yue Qingyuan understood. Madam Qiu didn’t seem to have much love for her sister-in-law either, but she also did not seem willing to treat the young woman cruelly. That was really the most he could bring himself to care about when it came to any Qiu, so he had been reassured. After quickly washing the blood out and drying his hair with a burst of qi, he had left the estate.
Xiao Jiu was a vision, as he always was. Even standing at the edge of this hated town, there was no mistaking the scholarly grace that radiated off him. Yue Qingyuan smiled as he approached. Xiao Jiu allowed him to wrap his arms around him since there were no people nearby – or at least no one whose opinion they cared about. Xiao Jiu was stiff at first, but slowly he relaxed into his embrace as they stood in silence.
Tilting his head so he could look up at him, Xiao Jiu looked exhausted. Not in any obvious way, for he would never allow that sort of weakness to show. But his Qi-ge knew. He always did. Still, there was a sense of relief about him that had been missing before. It was over. The man who had hurt him so badly was gone .
“Let’s go home, Qi-ge,” he said quietly.
Yue Qi nodded, and kissed his cheek softly before releasing Xuan Su – scabbard and all – and holding out his hand to help Xiao Jiu on it. “As A-Jiu wishes.”