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“The Queen convinced her step-son, the ever just and righteous Prince, that the sacrifices are necessary to keep her in power” said he, sitting with his spine straight, dark hair falling down his back in a murky abundance, brushing the white fur spread on the rostrum in the middle of the Four Seasons manor courtyard.
His robes were iridescent white as well, and the moon graced him with glistening blaze that gave him a haunting appearance.
It is mesmerizing, thought Qin Jiuxiao, blinking furiously when his eyes start watering from the icy breeze that seems to be softer than usual, as if straining silently to listen to the story.
He looks around and almost laughs, holding himself back so as to not attract the glares of his juniors and seniors slumped all around the courtyard in groups. Four days in, everyone had given up on pretending that they weren’t there for the stories. A few months back, they could never be seen like this, gathered in the same place after dinner, especially during this season. But then, who would have thought back then that they would be feasting every day once their long-lost senior would step into the kitchen, taking over the preparation and cooking silently, and not a single soul ready to oppose him.
Even as the snow thawed away to welcome spring, the nights were freezing. They had fire lit in different parts of the courtyard, the only sound apart from the soothing, bone-touching voice of their recently found er-shixiong being that of the crackling, charring wood.
The youngest amongst them sat the closest to the man of these winter nights, and had Qin Jiuxiao been younger he would have done so as well, never the one to miss such opportunities. He understood the fascination, felt it himself if he were to be honest.
The little girl who had come to the manor wrapped up around their er-shixiong's hips, covered safely under layers of fur and the young man's outer robes was already asleep in his lap, bundled up near the fire right in the center of the platform she was perched on along with her Gege and the younger children of the sect.
Though the stories were for her sake, he knew that much. But once the audience started gathering, not quite subtle in their eagerness, Wen Ke Xing went on night after night even as the girl slept, eyes fixed on the dancing, flickering flames drizzling in his pitch black, unnerving gaze.
One would think he is timid and reserved. But he had a funny feeling below the place in his heart that his er-shixiong was just very understanding in nature, fully aware that it was the rest of them who were somewhat reluctant to look straight in his eyes.
Except for one.
In which case, it was Wen Ke Xing who did the avoiding.
He found that to be intriguing, but something that made him aware of his own vulnerability as a mortal also told him to stay away from it.
Listening to stories though, he could do that.
He would have liked to claim that it was just the novelty and newness of it all, the collective fascination with an enigma that walked into their lives with the rise of winter.
But credit is due where it is deserved, and A-Xiang is quite right when she loudly announces whenever she pleases that her Gege is the best story-teller. There might be those who are better, but he definitely would not know.
The stories are, fascinating to say the least.
The type of tales that leave you with no morals, no lessons. There are no heroes, no right or wrong, no damsels, no Gods. Just creatures of nature, being mortal and sickening, crude, miserable and hopeless.
It left a queasy taste at the back of his mouth, and sometimes he found himself repeating the words in his own head like a ghost whispering in his ears. It took over his thoughts, infiltrating his dreams.
He came back for more, and so did the others.
He discerned that they all experienced what he did to an extent, and he did overhear some of his juniors discussing the stories during breakfast, in between breaks during their trainings, and while walking down the markets running errands for their Master and seniors.
He heard his seniors musing about them, whispering quietly because they do not want to be caught drinking alcohol sneaked in from outside after midnight.
“The prince agreed, and set out to find volunteers who would gladly give up their lives for the bright future of their kingdom, under the rule of the Queen. All the daughters and sisters, young and beautiful were taken away, to be sacrificed.”
The man paused, looking down at the little girl, patting her hair as she snuggled into his thigh, scrunching her nose. He smiled, a fragile fragment of past glory.
“The Queen praised her step-son, who was happy to have her approval. Then she told him to behead all the sacrifices, so that they can collect the blood of the young girls. She, after all, had to drink it to become more strong, powerful. To protect her Kingdom and keep her subjects safe, of course.”
As recalls the story in his bed later, turning away from the glow of the fire to stare into nothingness of the dark, it leaves him restless.
Wen Ke Xing's voice echoes like a spirit of misery around him. The prince refuses to leave him alone. The prince who did not understand what he had done till all young female children of his Kingdom were dead.
There was one girl, who ran away towards the forest before she could be captured.
“She lost the opportunity to be martyred for a good cause,” said Wen Ke Xing.
“Isn't that good?” inquired a junior, one of their youngest, looking desolately at er-shixiong.
The poor child almost weeps when the story continues.
The young girl who escaped, ends up in a cave, eaten away limb by limb, her skin torn and eyes gouged out. By the time she escapes, finding her way back to the kingdom, she is so hideous that no one wants to look at her. The children are scared, the elders are disgusted, and no one wants her around. The Queen is informed of the young mutilated girl, and the Prince captures her. But the Queen takes a look at her and orders the monstrous looking child to be put to death just for being so hideous and scaring the Queen's beloved subjects.
“In the end the girl meets her end too, but unlike the others she doesn’t get to be a sacrifice to enhance the prosperity of the Kingdom.”
“T-that’s so unfair,” a junior sniffles.
“What is unfair?” Wen Ke Xing asks, tilting his head. A lock of hair caresses his face, settling on his jaw and chin. His eyes glow, “That she met her end differently? Or that she met her end eventually just like the rest?”
“It’s unfair to them all.”
“Yes,” their er-shixiong agrees, “life is indeed unfair to us all.”
Qin Jiuxiao thinks of the other stories. The snake who loses its family that was passing by a river to a cruel human who says that snakes are poisonous anyhow, they should be killed. No one mourns the snakes who die. The little snake grows up, and takes revenge, biting every human it comes across. It thinks, humans are cruel and vicious, they kill for no reason, just because they fear that something might happen to them in future. In the end, the humans gather and kill the snake after mourning for the lives it takes, saying that they always knew snakes were evil and poisonous. The savage is a savage if you do just enough to make it act like one.
He thinks of the boy who chased the storm knowing it is dangerous, and ends up in the middle of the river. He thinks of the other boy who was just passing by, desperate to reach his home before he gets wet and sick, but ends up swept away by the storm as well, ending up in the river with the other boy. They find a boat and try to reach the shore, but crocodiles attack them, climbing up on the boat to eat them both.
One boy thinks, it’s okay, I chose this. I knew it was dangerous to chase the storm. The other thinks, I just wanted to run as far away as possible and see my parents. In the end both are eaten anyhow.
He thinks about choices, and lack of it.
He thinks about his da-shixiong, sitting away the farthest, distant like the look he used to carry around in his eyes, especially since the night their Master, Qin Jiuxiao's father got severely sick, and Four Seasons Manor was almost on the verge of having a new Lord.
Though, it had been a long time coming, the frost in those merciless eyes leaving him numb at times, making his senior look like a different person that he had never realized Zhou Zishu could be.
The night his Father falls sick, the chill had settled in those eyes like a winter that would never end.
And then winter arrived for real, along with Wen Ke Xing.
He shivers, not knowing if it is due to the sadness that his er-shixiong carries around in his voice, permeating his tales or if it is his da-shixiong staring at Wen Ke Xing from far away, a strange fervor glinting in the hardness of his gaze.
The iceberg in them had melted away, right in front of Qin Jiuxiao, when he had to witness the way da-shixiong's eyes fell on the tall, dainty figure standing in the main doorway of the manor.
It was like the autumnal breeze that had travelled from far away in the forgotten past, perched on the chill of winter.
He feels strange, stomach churning.
Though he does not understand it just yet, but one day he might. He will get the glances his other seniors exchange when he brings it up.
They reassure him that it will all make sense one day.
So for now he tries to put that matter away.
Except, it’s hard.
Er-shixiong's stories are plaguing, bothersome and they make him think of what he doesn’t understand when he looks at him and da-shixiong.
Sometimes, he is tempted to get close and ask er-shixiong to tell a story about himself, just so that he can soothe himself with the knowledge that the ones he has already told have nothing to do with where he has been for all these past seasons and the little girl he guards like a lioness with a newborn cub.
Then there are times like these, when his heartbeats escape ahead of his breath and he accepts that he is too afraid of being wrong.
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