He Sui’an adjusted her breathing, both envious and trying to steady her breath. Qi Buyan raised his hand to wipe away a drop of sweat from her chin. “He Sui’an, will you get married?”
The old woman had just mentioned that every girl must find a good husband to marry.
But He Sui’an didn’t think so and didn’t agree with what the old woman said. Some of her thoughts seemed out of place in this world, as she didn’t believe that women must find a good husband to marry.
He Sui’an didn’t know what kind of teachings she had received before; her thoughts occasionally drifted away from the norms of this world.
He Sui’an shook her head. “It’s hard to say; I don’t know yet.”
Qi Buyan’s fingertip was damp with her sweat.
He didn’t delve into it any further.
They continued to walk up the mountain, and He Sui’an’s thoughts wandered back to what the old woman had said about Xuanmiao Temple.
Because she wasn’t watching where she was going, she bumped her head into a tree ahead with a “bang,” seeing stars from the impact.
It really hurt.
He Sui’an instinctively covered her head, and fragments of memories seemed to flash through her mind:
The night was cool and calm. By the lake stood a woman in a dark blue long dress, her figure slender. Exquisite and elegant silver ornaments adorned her forehead, and she wore seven butterfly bell bracelets on her wrist.
Her colorful attire looked even more mysterious in the deep night. Her skin was so pale it seemed almost transparent, and her features were profound, as beautiful as an ink painting.
“Ah Shu.”
Suddenly, someone called her.
Qi Shu turned around expressionlessly, the silver ornaments on her clothes jingling softly.
A young man came over with a coat, gently draping it over her shoulders. He seemed a bit upset that she didn’t take care of herself but also indulgently said, “Why didn’t you wear more when you came out at night?”
Qi Shu remained silent.
“Ever since you gave birth to him, your health hasn’t been good. It’s my fault; I shouldn’t have let you have him.” The young man held her hand.
No matter what the young man said, Qi Shu remained indifferent, her reaction muted. It was as if she was zoning out, not wanting to think about anything, not wanting to care about her surroundings, only wanting to immerse herself in her own world.
The young man held Qi Shu by the lakeside, recounting what he had done that day.
Qi Shu showed no reaction.
It wasn’t until she saw a child squatting by the opposite shore of the lake playing with bugs that her eyelashes fluttered slightly. That child was theirs, Qi Buyan. Qi Shu’s hand, hidden in the folds of her dark blue dress, clenched tightly.
Qi Shu was the most outstanding Gu master in Tianshui Village of Miaojiang. The Gu worms she cultivated could sell for a thousand gold pieces at the highest price. In the past, everyone feared her.
But now, all her Gu skills had been abolished.
It was like a martial artist whose martial arts had been destroyed, rendered useless.
From then on, she could no longer cultivate, control, or use Gu worms, nor could she cure or kill them. This was a fatal blow to every Gu master.
It was like a painter suddenly going blind, a storyteller suddenly becoming mute, or a musician suddenly having their hands broken. It was something difficult to accept and impossible to come to terms with.
Qi Shu was no different.
And all of this was thanks to the young man by her side. How could Qi Shu not resent him, not hate him? But what was the use of resentment or hatred? She had still ended up in this state.
She could only blame herself for misjudging people in the past, Qi Shu thought with self-mockery.
The young man touched her cold cheek.
He asked, “Are you cold?”
Qi Shu didn’t even look at him, let alone respond.
The young man sighed helplessly and called over Qi Buyan, who was still playing with bugs on the opposite shore of the lake, “Come over and take your mother back inside.”
Qi Buyan’s hair was loose, with the ends adorned with delicate silver ornaments, dressed similarly to Qi Shu, in dark blue attire. Although he was still young and not fully grown, he had rosy lips and white teeth, looking like a finely crafted porcelain doll.
He walked over and took Qi Shu’s hand, his voice soft in a way that only children have, “Mother.”
She didn’t shake him off but also didn’t respond.
By the lakeside stood a moderately sized wooden house with doors and windows on all sides, all open, with side panels featuring intricate carvings. Countless wind chimes hung under the eaves, ringing crisply with the breeze.
The evening wind blew gently, causing the wind chimes to sound.
They walked inside.
Qi Buyan led Qi Shu to sit down, his movements smooth and practiced.
He looked very obedient with his tender, childish face.
In front of the wooden house, on a patch of grass, there was a square table, with blood still dripping from it, seeping into the soil.
Several people were tied up beside the table, their mouths gagged, only able to make muffled pleas, their faces streaked with tears and snot, their eyes filled with terror, their bodies trembling.
They were begging the young man not to kill them.
Not long ago, he had already killed someone, dismembering the body on that table, separating bones from flesh perfectly. The bones were set aside, and the flesh thrown into the lake to feed his crocodiles.
His technique was so practiced that he seemed able to do it with his eyes closed, as if he had done it countless times.
How could they not be afraid?
They were petrified.
They hadn’t done anything wrong. They were just walking down the street, and when they reached a less crowded area, they felt a sudden pain in their heads. When they woke up, they were in this remote place, tied up securely.
At first, they wondered if they had offended someone and were being avenged.
But the truth was that the young man just wanted to kill.
And they happened to pass by him, becoming his prey for the simple reason that he wanted to kill. The simplicity of the reason filled them with despair. What had they done wrong?
When they saw that there were others there, they felt a glimmer of hope.
But the beautiful woman was indifferent.
She saw them but acted as if she didn’t. Their hope was completely crushed. After all, how could a woman living with a man who killed so freely be normal?
They were utterly hopeless.
Facing death, they cried bitterly.
Clearly, the young man had family; how could he kill so indiscriminately?
Just as they were cursing him frantically in their hearts, the gentle young man walked to the table, picked up a blood-stained, arm-length boning knife, and began sharpening it on a large whetstone.
Qi Shu and Qi Buyan, sitting inside the wooden house, could see everything happening outside. The doors and windows were wide open, providing no cover, and the young man had them sit inside precisely to watch.
Qi Shu’s nails dug into her palms.
Qi Buyan’s face was fair and tender, his eyes pure as he gazed outside.
After sharpening the boning knife, the young man pulled up a man who had been so frightened that he had wet his pants and placed him on the table. The man struggled desperately, but the young man covered his mouth and nose with a drug-soaked cloth.
The man immediately became immobile, though his consciousness remained clear. The young man perversely insisted on keeping his victims awake while killing them.
The boning knife cut through the man’s body.
The blade sank into the skin, and blood flowed out.
The young man was adept with the knife, able to cut without causing the person to bleed out too quickly, keeping them alive to prolong the process. It was his way of savoring the act of killing.
Piece by piece, the young man sliced off the man’s flesh. The man’s face turned pale, his body bloodied from the knife, and he looked hopelessly at the mother and son sitting in the wooden house.
Qi Shu’s breathing seemed to falter.
Qi Buyan got up to pour her tea.
Qi Shu didn’t drink it, knocking the cup over. Qi Buyan picked up the wooden cup, set it right, and sat back down, tilting his head to watch outside.
The dying man met Qi Buyan’s eyes. The child seemed to understand what the young man was doing, yet his gaze remained innocent, unworldly.
The man died.
The young man removed the last piece of flesh from his body.
Bones piled into a small heap, and the young man picked up a weeping young girl.
The cloth gag in her mouth slipped out, allowing her to plead, “Please, let me go. I’ll give you money. My family has a lot of money. Please…”
The place was so remote that no one would come even if she screamed. The girl could only hope to plead for her life; she didn’t want to die.
The young man smiled elegantly.
He still raised the boning knife.
The girl, in tears, turned to Qi Shu inside the house, “Save me, please save me.”
Qi Shu’s palms bled from her nails, but she maintained an indifferent facade. The boning knife avoided the bones and cut into the girl’s body, making her scream in pain.
One after another.
Bones piled into a small mountain; all five were dead.
Their flesh was devoured clean by the crocodiles in the lake, and their bones would be crafted by the young man into beautiful bone ornaments, sold as ordinary animal bone decorations to be worn by unsuspecting buyers.
The young man, holding the boning knife, walked into the house and half-squatted in front of Qi Shu, “Ah Shu, are you still unwilling to speak to me?”
“You used to plead for them.”
Qi Shu looked at him coldly.
What good did speaking do?
The former Qi Shu had tried to plead for the lives of those he captured to kill, but it was useless. They would still be killed and tortured even more horribly.
Seeing Qi Shu still silent, the young man placed the boning knife against Qi Buyan’s delicate neck, cutting his skin and drawing blood. Just as he was about to make a deeper cut, he suddenly stopped.
Qi Shu broke the butterfly silver chain on her wrist, and she immediately started bleeding from all seven orifices.
“Bian Yichen.”
“I hate you.”
These were her last words.
With a clang, Bian Yichen’s boning knife fell to the ground. He smiled, but his fingertips trembled slightly, “You…”
Qi Shu didn’t look at Bian Yichen. Instead, she turned her gaze to Qi Buyan, whose expression remained perpetually indifferent. Summoning her last ounce of strength, she gently caressed his face for the first time.
I’m sorry.
She couldn’t endure this life any longer.
After enduring for so many years, she still had to leave him alone in this world.
Qi Shu knew it wasn’t his fault, but she remained cold towards him, sometimes even hating him. But only this way could he survive.
Because Bian Yichen was a complete madman, he wanted her to bear his child but didn’t want her to have any affection for the child. He didn’t want her gaze to linger on anyone other than him.
Not even their child.
Qi Shu was conflicted, sometimes wishing for Qi Buyan’s death, sometimes wanting him to live.
It didn’t matter anymore.
She was finally free. Qi Shu closed her eyes, and her hand slipped from Qi Buyan’s face.
Bian Yichen, uncharacteristically distraught, ignored Qi Buyan. He, somewhat disheveled with bloodstains on his body, hurriedly carried Qi Shu out the door. By the time he found a doctor, she had already died.
That doctor was Sanshan Zhenren of Xuanmiao Temple, who had not yet become a monk and was just an ordinary doctor in his hometown.
*
The tree on Dengyun Mountain shook after being bumped into, and He Sui’an clutched her head and squatted on the ground.
Are these her memories?
She wasn’t sleeping now, so it definitely wasn’t a dream. But she wasn’t present in them. If they were her memories, why was she absent from them, and how did she know them so clearly?
It felt as if she had read a book and then formed these imagined scenes in her mind, becoming part of her memories.
How could that be possible?
A warm hand touched He Sui’an’s forehead, “Did you hit your head?”
She looked up.
The boy’s face was backlit by the light.
