Chapter Text
Qiu HaiTang had a headache. It had started before the trial began, but now it was only getting worse. At first, she thought it was stress—after all, taking your family's killer to court is usually difficult. But in reality, she wasn't stressed; sure, she was a little nervous about seeing him again, but not stressed—not truly stressed. It was more like that strange feeling you get whenever you’re about to reunite with an old friend or acquaintance: the worry that they might have changed so much you wouldn't recognize them anymore; the fear that they wouldn't be the person you remembered; the fear of change, of the unfamiliar.
That was her fear—not the fear of someone about to come face-to-face with a criminal who had committed a massacre. So, where was the pain coming from? People often say that bad memories hurt, but she knew she had plenty of bad memories that she recalled quite vividly.
Like that time at the market. She had been shopping with her maid—before Xiao-Jiu arrived—and witnessed a street boy being beaten to death. It was traumatic. Qiu HaiTang remembered that day clearly: her pink dress, her hair braided and tied with a ribbon her mother had given her. She remembered being a child and being dragged away by her maid so her new shoes wouldn't get stained by the blood of the boy—a boy who must have been her own age.
She also remembered the day her mother died very well. She recalled how her parents had been arguing more and more frequently, right up until her mother fell ill. Her mother had always been in fragile health, and her condition had worsened after Xiao-Jiu’s arrival. One day, her mother summoned both of them—her and him—and had Qiu HaiTang sit by her side, reading her a story even though she was no longer a child. It was a love story about an emperor and his consort. It was tedious, but she wasn't about to deny her dying mother her beliefs. So, she let her finish the story and embrace her afterward.
She passed away while clutching the hand of the physician, an old family friend.
That day, the entire house was draped in white. Doors were closed, incense was lit, prayers were offered to the gods, and her portrait was taken down from the wall.
A portrait that Xiao-Jiu would burn years later—along with the entire mansion—even knowing how important it had been to her.
So yes, Qiu Haitang was blessed with a good memory, and trauma obviously didn't affect her. No, it didn't; it couldn't. Yet that didn't change the fact that whenever she tried to look back at the past—at that specific day—she would be seized by the most excruciating migraines and end up weeping like a child.
And so, here she was now, trying to be as discreet as possible. That brat from the Liu clan hadn't even let her finish speaking when she tried to point out the inconsistencies between Shen QingQiu and Yuu. Although now—thinking with a mind that was a blank slate (if suffering a migraine could truly be called having a blank mind)—the two Shens (QingQiu and Yuu—not Yuudi and Yuuge) weren't all that different. Sure, there were oddities, but nothing that couldn't be explained by recalling a single fact: one of the twins was missing. She had no idea which one, but QingQiu was just that—QingQiu—and Xiao-Jiu... She couldn't recall if there had been anyone else besides him. Perhaps there had been, and she had simply forgotten—like that boy, Yue.
Crewel looked at both pups; Yuudi seemed calmer now, sitting on the floor at the table next to his brother. They were eating in a soothing silence, thanks to Yuuge feeding the cat. He was grateful now that he had bought enough food to last the week. Sure, it wasn't the most extravagant fare, but the kids would survive long enough for him to get his hands on the Headmaster's card again. Kids who—incidentally—hadn't lifted a finger to change their appearance, even after he’d told them his name. So, the moment Yuuge let go of the cat, he wouldn't know who was who anymore.
"I need you to tie your hair back or cut it differently." They weren't going to cut it; given its length, they likely belonged to one of those religions or cultures that viewed long hair as a sign of virtue, prestige, or dignity. Both boys looked at him, then at each other, and finally cast their gaze down at Grim—specifically at the ribbon he was wearing. Yuuge grasped it between his pinky and ring finger and gave it a gentle tug. One might have expected the ribbon to come undone, but instead, the action caused two more to appear.
Yuudi took one, and Yuuge took the other. The first tied his hair up into a bun, while the second positioned his tie like a standard ponytail—only he slid it down until it rested at the very tips of his hair, making it look as though it were loose. "Done," Yuuge said, returning to his meal.
Crewel looked at them and nodded. "Right. I'll leave you two to eat while I go find the Headmaster." He didn't want to leave the teenagers alone, but if he didn't go looking for that blasted bird-man now, the fellow probably wouldn't show up with the other magical pen of his own accord.
Those present watched as everything turned black. "What is happening?" Liu QingGe shouted, grabbing his nearest martial brother. "This is probably the end of a memory," Shang QingHua replied, clinging to Yue QingYuan. "Junior Brother... could you let go of me?" The man in question quickly let go, just as the light began to return little by little.
"Oh, oh, it seems new residents have finally arrived at our beloved, ramshackle dormitory," remarked a tall, thin ghost—wearing a cape and top hat—to two others who were dressed the same way but were larger in size. The trio was blocking the second-floor hallway—the one leading to the bedrooms—where the twins stood. "That means we can play with you, and you'll stay here for eternity," the largest of them crooned, trying to touch Grim, who was standing beside Yuuge.
"I am not dealing with this today," Shen Ge said before scooping Grim up into his arms and walking right through the ghosts as if they were nothing more than what they were: ghosts. His brother followed close behind. "He isn't going into the room," he stated, pointing at Grim while frowning.
"They're going to argue," Shang Qinghua complained, eyeing the pair of siblings. You didn't have to be a genius to know that siblings always fought, even over the simplest things. "I don't think so... They seem close," Miss Qiu whispered to no one in particular, clutching her head. The pain only worsened whenever she tried to wrap her mind around the existence of two Xiao-Jius.
"Just because they're close doesn't mean they don't argue," came the reply. Haitang wished she were simply going mad; unfortunately, she wasn't that lucky. She was fairly certain this was the work of that damned demon in human skin—Tianlang-jun. How she regretted agreeing to the trial for Shen Qingqiu. She didn't know what his intentions were—he had never revealed them—but she no longer knew if the price was one she could afford to pay.
Luo Binghe chuckled softly at the look of sheer alarm on Miss Qiu's face. Granted, his mother had raised him well—teaching him not to trouble ladies or gentlemen—and Shizun had driven that lesson home quite clearly, and not exactly with kind words. But he just wanted a little payback; she had kept things from him regarding his Shizun—things he needed to know. Besides, a harmless prank wouldn't hurt anyone. It wasn't as if she had a heart condition or anything of the sort.
No one was paying attention to the reflection anymore; some were arguing about what was to come—ignoring what was actually happening—while others simply didn't care. It wasn't until they heard the click of a door closing that they turned their attention back to the twins.
"Seriously, brother? 'Great mages need their own rooms.' That’s one of the worst excuses I’ve ever heard you give in our regrettably long lives."
"You asked me not to sleep with us, so I made sure I didn't sleep with us. You ought to be more grateful to this poor twin of yours."
Yuuge pulled a broom out of the closet—which was practically falling apart—and began sweeping the room. It didn't contain much, but it would do; mostly, there were cobwebs and strange black stains on the walls. Aside from that, however, it was decent: a fireplace, a huge mirror, a bed, and an easel holding a blank canvas draped in a black sheet, along with an armchair covered the same way.
"We aren't sharing a bed." With that, Yuudi left the room, leaving his brother alone with a whole room to clean. No one said a word, though, because he returned shortly after, pushing a wooden bed identical to the one already there. "Let's do it," he said once he’d finished positioning the new bed opposite the other.
"What are they doing?" Shang Qinghua wondered as he watched the two siblings grab the only mattress—each taking an end—and begin pulling in opposite directions. "Perhaps that’s their way of deciding who it belongs to," Qi Qingqi replied, pointing at the mattress. She had never seen such a thing before, and neither had her martial siblings; it looked like a piece of fabric stuffed with something. "I believe it’s a mattress," Yue Qingyuan answered his martial sister before turning his attention back to the twins. They were pulling harder and harder, yet the object still wouldn't tear; it merely stretched in a comical fashion.
"Do it better."
"I'm doing my best."
"Doesn't look like it."
Both young men pulled harder and channeled increasing amounts of magic until, finally, it happened. They both fell to the floor on opposite sides of the room, each with a mattress landing on top of him.
"There, happy?" Yuuge grumbled as he kicked the mattress off himself. Once free, he tossed it onto his bed, threw aside the cloth covering the lectern, and flopped onto the mattress. "Good night, didi."
Yuudi watched his brother turn away to avoid looking at him and could only sigh. They had both had a rough night, and he wasn't about to make things more difficult now. So, he adjusted the mattress, grabbed the blanket that had been covering the armchair, and lay down on the bed. He was still wearing his shirt—not the most comfortable way to sleep, but there was no other option, so he didn't complain and simply closed his eyes. "Good night, gege."
Hopes were dashed once again, though this time it caught just under a quarter of those present by surprise—and even then, they did not react in an exaggerated manner. As a result, the conversation between the siblings could be heard quite clearly.
"You know, if you were afraid to sleep alone, you could have just told me. You didn't need to make such a scene about it."
There was no answer, only the soft sound of a muffled snore, as he was leaning against another body that was holding him close. "Anyway... at least I can promise you that this time we won't be left alone—neither you nor I. I'll always be by your side; I'm your brother, after everything we've been through."