When the last ray of light was swallowed by the night, Li Nanzhu had already emptied her fifth wine jar.
The edge of the rough clay bowl was still stained with blood from the crook of her thumb. Tiny ripples swayed at the bottom of the liquid, reflecting Li Nanzhu's bloodshot eyes.
Duan Xianxing's wine was stronger than she had imagined. She saw Suisui's bone claws gleaming a pale white under the moonlight, the jade flute in Zhu Yinxi's hand spinning into an afterimage, and her own hand—that scar-covered hand—gripping the ribs of her green jade fan with a death grip.
"Enough." Zhu Yinxi's jade flute suddenly blocked the path to the sixth wine jar.
Li Nanzhu looked up. She saw her second senior brother's usually immaculate sleeves stained with mud, and a fresh crack on the tail of his jade flute.
She dimly remembered that this flute had struck the hand holding her sword three times last night. Now, it was similarly stopping her from continuing to harm herself.
"Thwack!"
Duan Xianxing suddenly slammed the table and stood up. The youth's eyes were rimmed with red. "Let her drink!" He grabbed a wine jar and smashed it heavily onto the stone table. Shards of pottery flew, a splinter slicing a bloody trail across his cheek. "It's better than watching her stab herself with a sword!"
Suisui's bone claws hovered in mid-air, its soul fire trembling violently.
The little skeleton looked between them before finally burying its head in the crook of Li Nanzhu's neck, its icy skull pressing against her feverish skin.
Li Nanzhu let out a low chuckle. She rose unsteadily, her hem sweeping across the pottery shards littering the ground.
"Master..."
She didn't know if she had actually said it aloud, but the motion of Duan Xianxing pouring wine visibly faltered.
The youth's eyes widened. The wine jar hung suspended in the air, amber liquid splashing onto the stone table like the droplets of blood that had sprayed in the secret realm that day.
With a sharp clack, Zhu Yinxi pressed his jade flute against the tabletop. Li Nanzhu caught a glimpse of her usually steady senior brother's fingers trembling slightly. The new crack on the flute looked particularly jarring under the moonlight.
"I..." Duan Xianxing opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"Silence," Zhu Yinxi's voice said, colder than a frozen pool.
Li Nanzhu wanted to laugh.
How ridiculous. They clearly heard it, yet they pretended they hadn't.
Just like how she was clearly in agonizing pain, yet she had to smile and say, "I'm fine."
The scene before her began to spin. Her entire world started to crumble. She saw Suisui rush toward her in a panic, its soul fire flickering wildly in the night wind. Her last conscious perception was the texture of the embroidery on Zhu Yinxi's sleeve brushing against her cheek and Duan Xianxing's tearful cursing.
Li Nanzhu had a very long dream.
In the dream, she stood in a hazy mist. Li Nanzhu knelt in the void, where everything was silent except for a faint, soft light in the distance.
She rose involuntarily and walked forward. The mist gradually thinned, revealing a blurry figure. Li Nanzhu knew this was the woman from her previous dream; this was the second time she had dreamed of the same person.
However, compared to the last time, this figure was even more ethereal. Her silhouette almost merged into the light, her face indiscernible and her voice inaudible, but Li Nanzhu just knew she was looking at her.
The woman in white slowly approached and reached out, gently pulling her into an embrace.
Li Nanzhu did not resist.
She didn't even have the strength to speak. She simply let the other woman hold her, feeling as though she were enveloped by a gentle tide. All the pain, fatigue, and resentment were smoothed away in that moment.
—No words.
—No comfort.
—Only a silent hug.
Li Nanzhu closed her eyes. Time in the dream became blurred. She didn't know how long she cried; she only remembered that at the end, the figure gently patted her back as if in a silent farewell.
She finally fell into a deep sleep.
...
"Awake?"
The raspy voice startled Li Nanzhu's newly opened eyes wide. She reflexively pulled out the mirror shard from her storage bag. Duan Xianxing was curled on a prayer mat in the room. The youth's usually vibrant hair was limp and stuck to his forehead, and he was clutching an empty medicine jar.
Seeing her wake, he practically lunged for the bed, only to have the shard slice his fingertip as he reached out.
A crimson bead of blood dripped onto a memory stone, winding down its smooth surface.
Li Nanzhu suddenly remembered that day in the Forest of Demonic Beasts. Duan Xianxing and Zhu Yinxi had been just like this, standing in front of her and Suisui even as they coughed up blood, while the sword of a Soul Transformation cultivator remained only three inches from their throats.
"Three days." Duan Xianxing grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You've been asleep for three whole days." His voice trembled. "Master came three times a day to cast soul-soothing spells. Second Senior Brother stood outside the door for two nights..." His words dissolved into a sob. He suddenly rested his forehead against her shoulder. "...We almost thought..."
Li Nanzhu looked at Duan Xianxing's red eyes. The youth's usually arrogant features were now drooping and dejected, like a cat caught in the rain. She suddenly realized she had never truly looked at her seventh senior brother—he was always the loud one rushing to the front, laughing heartlessly as if he would never have a care in the world.
Now he had become like this because of her. Li Nanzhu opened her mouth and finally returned the hug gently. "Seventh Senior Brother... I'm sorry..."
Duan Xianxing's body visibly stiffened. She could feel the youth's back tense like a drawn bow, vibrating with a slight tremor.
"Li... Little Junior Sister..." His voice was muffled, sounding as if something were blocking his throat.
Li Nanzhu gently patted his back. This motion made Duan Xianxing suddenly jump up as if struck by lightning. He messily wiped his face, and while his eyes were still red, his grin already reached his ears. "Wait right here! I made porridge!"
He practically bounced out of the room, nearly tripping over the threshold. Li Nanzhu watched his retreating figure, realizing in a daze that she had never said "thank you" to him.
—He was always the first to rush in front of her to block every danger, yet he never asked for anything in return.
—He didn't even know why she was in pain, yet he was willing to suffer through the darkest days with her.
...She couldn't stay obsessed with the past any longer.
After a short while, Duan Xianxing returned carrying a bowl of steaming porridge. It was cooked very thick, the rice grains nearly dissolved. Floating on top were a few jaggedly sliced pieces of poria and several wolfberries—likely tossed in at the last minute—their bright red color standing out against the white porridge.
"Taste it, quick!" He handed it over like a precious treasure, his eyes sparkling. "Second Senior Brother, Suisui, and I made it together with spirit rice, and we added some soul-calming herbs too..."
Li Nanzhu took the bowl, her fingers flinching slightly when they touched the porcelain—the temperature was just right, neither too hot nor too cold.
She looked down and took a sip.
The taste of the porridge was... strange.
Spirit rice was supposed to be fragrant and sweet, but this bowl had a subtle burnt bitterness, as if the heat hadn't been managed well and the bottom layer had scorched. The poria was sliced too thick and felt hard to chew, and there were too many wolfberries, making it cloyingly sweet.
Second Senior Brother and Seventh Senior Brother had probably never cooked before, but...
Rate on N.U.
