Chapter 20
Ye Hua~
“When emotions run high, people utter words they never mean in the heat of the moment,” my brother Mo Yuan murmured, his hand firm on my shoulder as he offered both gentle chiding and comfort. “I told you to keep your wife in check. There are lines no one should cross and yet today they were crossed by both of them.”
A mother’s wish. Si Ming confessed his inability to refuse Gugu. His face flushed crimson as he recounted Qian Qian’s kneeling before him, her elegant robe swirling like silver water, mirroring the tears dripping down her face. Her impassioned plea, heavy with maternal love was a swift and merciful trial for our daughter Ying’er—one free from remaining attachments, swiftly transcending the pain of love, leaving no lingering sorrow. She asked for Ying’er to live and die untouched by heartbreak, her heart pure and unscarred, her return to us unburdened.
Her request surprised no one; If anything, I think we expected it. Qian Qian and I still bore the painful scars of past trials gone wrong. No one could blame her for wanting to spare our daughter such suffering.
I too had my apprehensions, though I had no sway in the matter. I could not petition Si Ming for some tailor-made fate for our child and was privately relieved Qian Qian could and had. I did prefer the proposition of Ying’er not being touched by an undeserving, unworthy man, a man not fit to speak her name. But Qian Qian’s intervening, despite innocent had possibly created unexpected variables that seemed to have altered Ying’er’s fate inexplicably, leaving us to consider what calamity or calamities it had wrought.
We decided to tell others Ying’er had returned, slipped into seclusion to rebalance her cultivation. We’d search quietly and wait for her reappearance. Zhe Yan confirmed seeing Ying’er’s radiant, star blazing within the Azure Dragon constellation, advising patience; a calming voice of reason to our troubled hearts and minds. It should have ended there, hearts tranquil, voices soft as silk. But the volatile bond between Bai Lianhua and Qian Qian—a tinderbox of unspoken words, the air crackling with barely suppressed tempers and simmering resentment—exploded finally.
Bai Lianhua’s white silk robe swished across the tiled floor as she stormed into the private gallery. I hadn’t invited her, mindful of her poor health and that Ying’er’s situation didn’t directly affect her as Ying’er’s stepmother—a mistake, perhaps. Her anger, likely born of both exclusion and her jealousies, sliced through the air like honed blades. “Bai Qian,” she accused, eyes blazing, “you had no right to interfere in our daughter’s trial! Your meddling is why Ying’er vanished. You don’t know her—not truly. She’ll resent your fears, your doubts that swayed her trial. She’s stronger than you think, stronger because of Ye Hua, the man who raised her alone.”
Qian Qian rose, regal even in fury, her hands pressed to her sides as if to steady her racing heart. “You delight in this, don’t you, Bai Lianhua?” she said, voice low but cutting. ”Hurting me, offending me, and taking jabs at me, reminding me of all the time I missed with my children, which I have allowed not out of some great respect or fear of you. For Ye Hua. I did it for him, the father of my children and to save him face.”
Bai Lianhua’s laugh echoed through the room, sharp and mocking like the crack of a whip. “Do you really think it was just for him? To save him face? You’ve been slithering back to his side ever since you reappeared, lurking like a vulture, just waiting for the day I perish so you can swoop in and take my place. I can see your sinister ambition burning bright in your eyes. You can hardly contain your eagerness for my death.”
Mo Yuan had positioned himself between the two, a silent sentinel amidst the chaos. The children, though furious, clung to Qian Qian, restraining her with wide eyes filled with rage, while the guards and second and third uncles firmly held back Bai Lianhua, their expressions tense and alert. Yet, the tension and animosity that crackled between the two women was a force of its own, dwarfing everyone else in the room with its sheer intensity.
Their feelings had been building up and had become an uncontrollable torrent.
A contemptuous snort escaped Qian Qian. The children held her arms back, but she leaned forward tauntingly; color rushing across her pale cheeks. “Foolish child!” she spat. “I don’t want your husband. If I did, you’d know it—he’d be entwined in my legs and arms this very instant. To me, he is not a man anymore.” Her voice dropped to an unsettling calm. “You and he can cling to each other for eternity—just as you demanded he remain alone, awaiting your reincarnation, you selfish brat. You proclaim great love for him across the eight realms and four seas, yet condemn him to endless loneliness. True love would set him free—hoped he forgot you, embraced life again, as I did when I breathed my last breath.”
“The news of his remarriage brought a thrill, a joyous chime in my ears. Him finding you, I rejoiced.” Qian Qian’s smirk, a dangerous curve of scarlet lips and her eyes, like chips of obsidian, gleamed from the fire within. “Then I met you, and a wave of pity washed over me for him—a chilling, bitter tide because you are unworthy of him.”
Silence snapped like frozen glass before Bai Lianhua screamed, “I loathe you, Bai Qian!” Even as palace guards seized her arms, rage radiated from her in waves.
Qian Qian turned her back, cloak swirling around her like storm clouds. Her last words bellowed over her shoulder: “I don’t give a damn about you or your husband. My only concern is my daughter’s safe return. Child, stand in my way, and I will rip the soul you stole from me right back on my own terms. I will not see you after today, but if I must prepare by bathing, burning incense, refraining from meat and ready yourself to kowtow 12 times to me, Gugu.”
“Heavenly Lord, teach your unruly wife proper decorum. She has fewer manners than your infant children.” Qian Qian had bellowed at me shaking her head as she left Nine Heavens.
Mo Yuan’s hands landed on the desk across from me, a thunderous reminder of his presence. “Ye Hua,” he said, his voice pulling me from the nightmare of me reliving the afternoon, his eyes meeting mine with steadfast resolve, “we will find Ying’er. And Bai Qian? She didn’t mean what she said. You know that. She speaks in anger.”
I remained silent, my thoughts chaotic and uncontained.
“If she didn’t see you as a man,” Mo Yuan continued, “she wouldn’t bother trying to avoid you. She does so because she doesn’t trust herself yet. You had 50,000 years to get over her while she has had only three years. For her, it’s raw and fresh and you still mean too much to her, therefore she forces herself to spend time with Bai Lianhua to remind herself that you are with another and that she must remember her place.”
“I should have stopped them before things got so ugly.” I mumbled.
A solemn smile crept to his lips, teasing but kind. “You would have been ineffective and you shouldn’t have let her get away with saying such a thing, you know. You ought to have seized her by the nape of the neck and bitten her.”
I remained silent for a while. “And where should I have bitten her, Mo Yuan?” I eventually asked. “On top of yours or somewhere else?” A wave of jealousy surged within me, only to be overtaken by the warmth of family bonds, yet it lingered stubbornly, refusing to fade entirely.
“You asking this question is why I’m the older brother,” he replied, unperturbed by my antagonism. “On the other side. To cover my marking would be rude. In the old days, you would have thrown her over your shoulder and carried her off and shut that smart mouth of hers right up.” He feigned earnest, but I knew the genuine affection lurking beneath his words, the way he wanted to lighten my burden with levity and jest.
I groaned, a low, guttural, exasperated sound that seemed to scrape its way out of my throat. “Don’t make me laugh, Mo Yuan. I don’t deserve to laugh,” I declared, each word a battle against the suffocating weight pressing down on my chest. I sighed heavily, but instead of relief, the pressure only grew stronger, squeezing me with an unbearable, relentless force, as if trying to crush me from within.
Mo Yuan extended his hand, placing it warmly and comfortingly over mine. “Ye Hua,” he spoke softly, his voice tender and calming, “we will find Ying’er, and you’re not alone. We are family.”
Consort Lie Xi~
Her golden nail sheaths shimmered brilliantly in the warm afternoon sun, casting a dazzling light as she delicately picked up the fragile teacup before her. The intricate, swirling designs on the cup’s surface caught the sunlight, reflecting it off the polished gold in a dance of glittering patterns. Her expression was one of serene contentment, yet Consort Lie Xi, the Phoenix emperor’s second wife was anything but satisfied. She had been patiently biding her time for what felt like an eternity, waiting to ascend to the position of empress, and now her worries ran deeper than anyone could fathom.
Rumors were swirling like leaves in a storm. The possibility of Ruilin’s marriage promise with Princess Changying being annulled by the Celestials were spreading like wildfire. This chatter ignited after the young princess returned from her trial and went straight into seclusion, avoiding a meeting with her fiancé. However, this was not the most unsettling rumor circulating through the courts.
It was whispered that the emperor was not troubled by the potential dissolution of Ruilin’s marriage; in fact, he found it convenient. He had once again brought up a marriage alliance between the Phoenix and the Green Wilderness Qingqui, suggesting a union between himself and Gugu—Bai Qian was not someone a woman could easily compete against.
Gugu was a force of nature, inspiring love, hatred, and fear in equal measure. A whirlwind of power, wealth, and unparalleled beauty, she was what others only dreamed of. The realm knew of her affairs with High God Mo Yuan and Heavenly Lord Ye Hua, whispers circulating of a simultaneous sexual entanglement, a three-some that sparked jealousy. To be desired by such legendary figures was remarkable; to have them at odds over her, a testament to her irresistible allure. This siren call drew men, believing her possession would elevate them to the twins’ status.
Even if Lie Xi was reborn ten thousand times, she couldn’t hold a candle to Bai Qian yet the thought of another marriage agreement with Qingqui lingered in her mind, even if Ruilin’s marriage plans were doomed to fail and never come to fruition.
There was another marriage pact that could render the emperor’s request unsuitable leaving him to become in-laws instead of spouses with Bai Qian was the one involving Princess An Lan. The young princess had recently become enamored with Qingqui’s youngest ruler, the second Imperial Prince Yingpei, losing herself completely in her feelings for him.
A brief silence enveloped the room, broken only by the soft, hurried footsteps of her servant approaching with a sense of urgency. The servant knelt on the polished floor and bowed her head low in deference. “Your servant has given second Princess An Lan the fire revitalizing potion to present to Gugu for her recovery,” she reported, her voice barely above a whisper. “I also told her you had instructed the young princess to stay in Qingqui, serving Gugu as a humble servant to win over the heart of the Qingqui Monarch.”
Consort Lie Xi’s lavender robe shimmered with intricate silver embroidery that caught the streams of light filtering through the tall windows, casting delicate patterns on the floor. The 500-year-old epiphyllum nestled in her hair unfurled its petals, releasing a subtle, sweet fragrance into the air. “And what of the message for Ruilin?” she inquired, her voice steady but laced with concern. “Were you careful not to be discovered?”
“Yes, Empress,” the servant replied. It was customary for Consort Lie Xi’s servants to address her as “Empress” within the confines of her palace. “I placed it conspicuously on his desk, ensuring he cannot overlook it.”
This was a fortunate break for her plans. Ruilin had countless terse messages from Princess Changying, making it easy to obtain a sample of her handwriting. Consort Lie Xi had learned from her son, Feng Ming, that Ruilin had once again found his mortal. Forging a letter in Princess Changying’s script, insinuating that she had developed feelings for someone else during her trial and requesting Ruilin to keep quiet for the interim sake of Gugu and Empress Bai’s delicate health, was a calculated gamble. It could only work because Ruilin had a heart as soft as a cloud and he was trusting like a child.
If this deception caused Ruilin to sever his connection with the Princess and direct his attention toward his mortal, reconciliation would become an impossibility when Princess Changying returned from seclusion. Despite the peril of angering the Celestials, An Lan possessed a beauty so captivating that King Yingpei would undoubtedly fall under her spell. If he hadn’t already succumbed to her allure. What other reason could there be for him to bestow upon her such a personal and intimate gift, an exquisite hairpin taken from his own hair?
This alliance would secure the emperor his desired Qingqui blood bond, and she, Xie Li could rise to the position of Empress. Furthermore, the child she carried, though it was still too early to ensure the pregnancy was safe, could potentially be a prince, solidifying her claim to the Empress’s throne finally. She had tried, tried hard and for years, but her body had always betrayed her, producing no more heirs for her beloved, her Phoenix emperor. This was her last chance. If this child and plans failed her and her intrigues were brought to light, she would lose her position and the empress could be Bai Qian.
Ruilin~
Ruilin,
I’m sorry, but my heart belongs to someone else. I ask we keep this between us until my mother and stepmother’s health returns.
Princess Changying
For five days and nights, Ruilin sat at his cluttered desk as he scrutinized Princess Changying’s letter and the unfolded cranes. His eyes traced every stroke and curve, seeking any irregularities in her distinct script. He wanted to deny it, but the proof was right before his eyes.
Impeccable. A sentiment he had felt since their first correspondence when she accepted to meet with him. She had the most perfect penmanship. Each character was nothing less than art, meticulously crafted, mirroring the writing on the many cranes she left for him exactly. Her message like her was succinct and to the point, devoid of any flourishes or unnecessary embellishments, yet her foremost concern were her mothers reflecting the true nature of Princess Changying herself.
He expected to break down, but his eyes were dry because deep down he had always known she was too good for him and that nagging feeling she would meet someone like the Skylord had been eating at him, an ever present concern for a reason. It had been a premonition.
He lingered, holding the message and the delicate paper cranes in his palms, feeling their weight for just a moment longer before acknowledging their emptiness. They meant nothing, especially since she had managed to walk away from him with such effortless grace. This realization brought a chuckle to his lips, a bitter laugh at his own expense. With a resigned sigh, he tossed everything into a heap, exhaled deeply, phoenix fire flowing from his lips, and watched as the flames consumed them.
The fire crackled and danced, devouring the paper until only a fine, gray dust remained—a pile of ash, much like how he felt inside: discarded and devoid of substance, like ash. As he stared at the remains, the words swirled back into his mind. Princess Changying’s heart belonged to someone else. What hurt even more was that he had done the same thing to someone else. Someone who trusted him, someone who should never forgive him now, but whom he couldn’t stop thinking about.
Was it regret, guilt, longing, or all three? Because now, as he sat alone with the smell of ash thick in the air, Yi Nuo’s face came to mind, scorching him in ways that no fire could.
He thought of her because he longed for her presence. His thoughts of her lingered persistently. He realized this was Yi Nuo’s pain when he’d rejected her—a terrible act against someone he deeply cared for. His mind was consumed by her, preventing all else. Unable to bear the longing, he found himself outside the apothecary where he’d last seen Yi Nuo, standing near a bookstore.
Warm evening light streamed from the open shops, casting a golden glow that danced across the cobblestone street. He stood in the shadows, his heart racing with anticipation for just one glimpse. It wasn’t long before a figure hurried up the stone steps, her movements familiar even with her head wrapped in a plain cotton scarf. He recognized the way she moved, her grace unmistakable. Her husband appeared at the doorway. Ruilin watched from a distance, curiosity gnawing at him as he wondered if they had children now. Six years had slipped by since her wedding day. Yi Nuo was twenty-seven by now.
“That bastard is incredibly fortunate to have such a devoted wife, especially considering he doesn’t deserve her in the slightest.” The shopkeeper said and spat on the dusty ground, his face contorting into a grimace as he glared in the direction of Yi Nuo.
Ruilin couldn’t hold back his curiosity. “I thought there was a deep affection between them.”
The lantern lights caught the shopkeeper’s bald spot, making it gleam like a nectarine. “Perhaps once there was, but that was before the accident. That Li Wei was a good lad, but now he’s nothing more than a brute. He no longer works. Yi Nuo does everything for him, and instead of cherishing the sweetest girl in town, he dares to lay his hands on her, a delicate woman a fraction of his size.”
“What do you mean he lays his hands on her? Does he hit her?” Ruilin asked, his voice laced with concern.
“Well, yes…” The shopkeeper’s demeanor shifted abruptly, his arms folding protectively over his chest as he launched Ruilin a suspicious glare. “Wait, who are you to be asking these questions?”
Ruilin didn’t waste time with a reply; his feet pounded against the pavement as he sprinted towards Yi Nuo’s home. He reminded himself not to jump to conclusions, knowing that the truth behind closed doors often remained hidden. Yet, the voices he overheard chilled him to the bone.
“Where were you all day?” the voice demanded, laced with suspicion.
Yi Nuo’s voice quivered, a sound Ruilin barely recognized. “Mrs. Peng went into labor. I’m sorry I’m late. I’ll start dinner now.”
“You deliver babies all the time but can’t have one yourself. You’re a failure. This is what I get for marrying a family-less orphan who barely had a dowry.”
“I’m sorry,” Yi Nuo began to say, her voice quivering, but the words were suddenly cut off by the sharp, resounding crack of a slap.
“Tell me the truth, where the hell were you, Yi Nuo? I know you’re whoring yourself. Tell me who it is! Who do you whore yourself to?!”
The shattering crash of porcelain, a thousand shards screaming, filled Ruilin’s ears, a noise that vibrated in his chest. His vision swam, a red haze blurring his rage. Crimson bloomed—the deep, wet crimson of blood welling on Yi Nuo’s split lip, the angry purple bruise blossoming around her eye—as the splintering wood of the door exploded under his furious kick.
Her feet were completely off the ground. Yi Nuo’s husband who had been drinking by the smell of cheap wine oozing from his pores had her dress collar clenched tightly in his fist, while her hands were balled into fists beneath her chin. The bewilderment clawed at Ruilin. Yi Nuo had within her a whirlwind of disciplined motion and lethal Qi to take this man or any man out yet now endured such brutal treatment.
“Yi Nuo, what are you doing? Why aren’t you defending yourself?” Ruilin shouted hoarsely, his voice a mix of incredulity and desperation, as Yi Nuo silently mouthed his name, her eyes pleading for him to leave.
Her husband roared and flung her with such merciless force that when Yi Nuo collided with the wall, she crumpled to the floor like a discarded puppet, the entire room seeming to tremble in dread at the violence.
“Who the hell are you? Are you that whore’s lover?!” he roared, his arms flailing wildly as if possessed. His eyes, filled with a mad fury, locked onto Ruilin as he snatched a cleaver from the tabletop nearby and charged like a frenzied bull.
“I’m your worst nightmare,” Ruilin growled, his words dripping with venom and menace. “You’ll never lay eyes on Yi Nuo again. She is not someone you should ever harm. If fortune favors you, I might let you keep breathing, and if you believe in a higher power, start praying now to your deity of choice. You, mortal, picked the wrong day to meet me!”