Chapter Text
Flames licked at Wen Qing’s feet. Tied to a post above a bonfire, Wen Qing could do nothing but endure the heat scorching her exposed skin.
One moment the flames were merely licking at her, the next moment the fire engulfed her. A scream was ripped from her throat. It hurt in a way Wen Qing had never imagined. But only for a moment, because her skin was being burnt through, the networks of nerves demolished in the blaze. She could no longer feel the pain, only hear her own screams and see the orange-red flames covering her body.
Around her, the Jin clan members watched her burn.
As the last of her consciousness faded, she wished that when she reincarnated, that life would bear less pain than this one.
***
Wen Qing found herself in the middle of an unfamiliar place, a city with grand palaces lining the streets, their golden rooftops rising high into the clear blue sky.
A moment ago she had been burning alive, but where she was standing now was definitely not Jinlintai, and the unfamiliar people clustering around her were definitely not members of the Jin clan.
Wen Qing looked ahead at a shiny glass panel in one of the palace windows, catching sight of her own reflection. She wore the same tattered brown robes she’d been wearing when she was set on fire. Her face was full of light-colored wrinkly patches, as if her skin had been burned off. She looked at her hands and saw they were in the same state.
This must be a dream, some kind of hallucination her brain was creating in the last minutes before she died.
“Out of the way, everyone,” said a voice. Wen Qing glanced up to see a woman in black robes pushing her way through the crowd carrying a large scroll. This woman was the picture of elegance. Even with the bags under her eyes, her face was exquisite. Her tall stature was emphasized by the way she stood with a straight back and her silver-gray hair was formed into a neat updo with not a single hair out of place.
“Wen Qing, is it?” the woman read off the scroll. “Burned by the Lanling Jin clan?”
Wen Qing nodded numbly.
“Let’s see...according to this, you are a healer. The ascension of a medical master is a truly rare occasion. The Emperor is going to want to see you right away when he arrives.”
“Ascension...?”
“Yes. You are now a heavenly official, a goddess.”
“Excuse me?” Wen Qing did not believe in gods; she was convinced all the stories of people ascending to become prayer-granting deities belonged in the same rubbish heap as old wives’ tales about miracle cures. “What a truly strange dream.”
The lady gave a deep sigh. “This is real, Wen Qing. You had best accept this as soon as possible because there is much work to be done, starting with the building of your temples.”
“My temples.” Wen Qing gave a humorless laugh.
Even if this were real, who would worship her? She was just a healer from the remnants of a despised clan. Right now she was dressed in the same ragged robes she had worn in the Burial Mounds, living in the failed peace that Wei Wuxian had tried to make.
Wen Qing didn’t think Wei Wuxian believed in gods either. How could he, after everything he’d been through? Could leaving offerings at a temple bring back his slaughtered clan? Could prayer restore his golden core? Could prayer heal Wen Ning?
No, in the end, it had been Wei Wuxian’s own efforts, his blasphemous experimentation which brought Wen Ning’s corpse back to life.
Wen Qing believed more in the power of human hands than in any god bestowing luck from above.
“Yes, temples. Every incense stick earns you a merit, which is the currency of heaven. The more followers you gain, the stronger you will become,” she droned, as if reciting from a memorized script, “But if you lose followers and are forgotten, you will cease to exist.”
“Alright. So I am a goddess, but I cannot even keep myself alive. What a pessimistic dream.”
“Wen Qing,” the woman frowned in annoyance, though the frown did nothing to decrease her beauty, “once again, this is real.”
Wen Qing only stared at the figment of her imagination, wondering when this would be over.
“How can I convince you that this is real?” She sighed deeply. “Come with me to my palace.”
Wen Qing followed the woman down the road. As she walked, other heavenly officials stopped to stare at her, though they looked away hastily when she glanced in their direction. Everyone in this heaven had perfect looks and unblemished skin, unlike Wen Qing with her burn scars.
They reached a palace adorned with characters in golden paint which spelled out “The Palace of Ling Wen.”
Ling Wen. That was the woman’s name, Wen Qing realized. She hadn’t bothered to introduce herself earlier, just jumped straight into the practical business.
When they entered, the room was full of scrolls. Documents piled from the floor to the ceiling. Wen Qing stared at the stacks in awe; she had never seen so many scrolls in one place, not even in the renowned Gusu Lan library.
“This way,” Ling Wen said, guiding her through a door to a smaller room.
Ling Wen brought her in front of a large, polished bronze mirror. She slapped a talisman on the back of the mirror and the surface of it changed, displaying an image.
Wen Qing gasped.
The image it showed was the inside of an unfamiliar, richly-decorated room with Wen Ning on a table. People dressed in the gold robes of the Jin Clan surrounded him. Wen Ning thrashed, making pained grunts as he was restrained by ropes around his limbs.
One of the gold-clad people, a man with a messy dark ponytail and a sinister glint in his eyes, held up a long nail. “Let’s see if this works,” he said. Then Wen Ning was screaming, the nail being driven into the back of his head.
“No, no,” Wen Qing cried. “Stop, please!”
Ling Wen seemed to take her cry as a plea for the moving image to stop. She removed the talisman. “Do you believe now? This is what’s happening as we speak.”
Wen Qing’s tears streamed down her face.
She wanted to believe this was a dream. A nightmare concocted by her burning, damaged brain at the end of her life.
But even in her darkest dreams, she never imagined Wen Ning being tortured like this.
Through her tears, Wen Qing looked down at her scarred hands and knew: this was real.
“How...how can I save him?” Wen Qing wiped her hot tears off her face.
Ling Wen pursed her lips. “You can’t.”
“What--what do you mean?”
“As a heavenly official, you are forbidden from interfering with matters of the mortal world.”
“But...they’re experimenting on him.”
“And didn’t you let the Yiling Patriarch experiment on him?”
“That was different...please, Ling Wen, there must be something I can do...”
“I’m sorry,” Ling Wen said, her formal tone carrying just a hint of sympathy. “This is the way it is.”
***
Wen Qing sat in her palace, staring numbly at the wall.
Wen Qing absentmindedly fiddled with the white belt around her waist. She wore the default white robes that were given to newcomers who ascended to heaven. How appropriate, she mused. It was the color of funeral garb, and she felt dead inside.
She was hollow inside, as if someone had carved her heart straight out of her ribcage. All day, she hadn’t moved, hadn’t done anything but sit here. She replayed the image of Wen Ning screaming on the table in front of the demonic cultivators.
Wen Qing remembered when her parents had died. When she had sworn to protect Wen Ning at all costs. She spent her life trying to uphold that promise, working for Wen Rouhan on unethical activities just to keep him safe. But she’d failed when she let him die for the first time, and now she’d failed again, being foolish enough to think the Jins would give them both a quick death.
Wen Ning was being tortured, and it was all her fault.
Suddenly there was Ling Wen’s voice in her head, calling her through the personal communications array. Wen Qing felt a vague prick of annoyance at the sound of her voice. “Wen Qing,” she said, “the Emperor is in heaven now. Go down to his palace at the end of the road and greet him.”
“Who?” Wen Qing said in a hollow voice.
“Emperor Xie Lian,” explained Ling Wen, “is the martial god at the top of the heavenly hierarchy. He is eight-hundred-and-ninety-two years old and was the last Crown Prince of Xianle.”
Wen Qing remembered a tale she had read in a physicians’ handbook, of a once-revered prince who caused a horrifying plague. That prince, it was said, cut off a patient’s infected leg but the plague had spread to the rest of the body anyway. It was a cautionary tale for anyone performing amputations, to try all other options before resorting to chopping off body parts.
That plague ultimately destroyed the prince’s own country. Xianle was known in history for the plague, and nothing else.
Despite her heavy heart and desire to just sit in her castle avoiding others, Wen Qing felt a hint of curiosity. She decided to go and meet this all-powerful dictator.
She headed out of the palace she never wanted and walked down the road. When Wen Qing arrived at the Emperor’s palace, the door opened, and Wen Qing was allowed to step through into the Heavenly Emperor’s palace.
Inside, a man in plain white robes was sitting at the table. He had the look of a humble daozhang, though there was an elegant air about him. As soon as he saw her, he got to his feet. “Wen Qing, is it?”
“Yes,” she said, “I’m looking for the Emperor.”
“Ah...that would be me.”
She bowed deeply. “My apologies, Your Majesty, I had not expected...”
Had not expected the Emperor to be a man in robes that looked like they had been worn for hundreds of years, with a straw hat on his back like some kind of peasant.
Xie Lian looked embarrassed. “You don’t have to call me that.”
“What should this one call you, then?”
“Whatever you want, it doesn’t matter to me.”
Wen Qing blinked up at him.
Xie Lian coughed lightly. “Most officials call me...Your Highness.”
This made sense; he was, after all, a former prince.
“Understood, Your Highness.”
“So, Ling Wen tells me you’re a healer. It’s not often someone ascends who isn’t either a martial or civil expert.”
“With all due respect, Your Maj-- Your Highness, I never asked to ascend.”
“You and me both, Lady Wen-- well, perhaps the first time, but not the second or third.”
Wen Qing frowned. In the stories of ascended humans, Wen Qing had never heard of any who ascended three times. Perhaps that was what made Xie Lian worthy of his position.
“Anyway,” Xie Lian continued, “...fate has spoken, and you’re here now. Welcome.”
“I should not be here. My purpose has always been helping people, healing people. I would rather be on earth.”
Xie Lian nodded enthusiastically, his eyes bright. “Yes, it is easier to help the common people when you’re on earth. But, we haven’t had a new medical master in over three centuries. You staying here as a medical god would be really helpful.”
“What’s the point of being a god,” Wen Qing said, knowing that her tone was less than respectful, “if you cannot save the ones you love? Can I bring my parents back from the dead? Can I give my friend back his golden core? Can I stop my brother from being tortured as we speak?”
Xie Lian was quiet.
He looked down at his arm, stroking the silk bandage wrapped around it.
“You’re right. Heavenly officials are not all-powerful, there are things we cannot control. But,” Xie Lian stopped stroking the bandage and looked up at Wen Qing, his gaze strong, “we have powers and privileges that can be used.”
“I would give up this heavenly position,” Wen Qing said fiercely, “if I could save my brother from the fate he has now.”
Xie Lian looked thoughtful. “Perhaps you can.”
***
“Let me get this straight,” Ling Wen said. “You want to make Wen Ning, a ghost , a junior official?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Is there not a mortal you wish to appoint? Maybe that Yiling Patriarch, for example?”
“Wei Wuxian would not desire the position.” As a demonic cultivator, the last place he wanted to be was somewhere where he would be restricted. Besides, Wei Wuxian was happiest in the mortal world with the people he loved.
“The incorporation of a fierce corpse into the Heavenly Court is an unprecedented move.”
Wen Qing lifted her chin. “The Emperor has approved it.”
“The Emperor,” Ling Wen said with a tired sigh,“ does not know how much paperwork this involves.”
“That’s all? ‘Paperwork’ is what was stopping you from letting me rescue my brother?”
Ling Wen scowled. “Well, I had not thought of the idea of making him an official. I have too much on my plate to think of creative solutions to problems. If a non-living being used as a test subject can even be considered a problem.”
“My brother is not a ‘non-living being’,” Wen Qing said icily,
Ling Wen did not respond, apparently deciding that she did not have the time for an argument.
“I’m going down to get him,” Wen Qing announced, and walked away from Ling Wen’s desk without looking back.
To travel down to the mortal world, Wen Qing could have descended in a golden carriage, but she chose not to do so. She wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. Before she landed in Jinlintai, she took the form of a plain-faced girl in pale-yellow robes, the exact kind she remembered seeing the servants wear.
Wen Qing roamed around the grounds, searching for Wen Ning. From the last time she was here, she knew that the prison was located on the far north side of Jinlintai, but she worried that they may have moved him from the last time, perhaps to a different location. Wen Qing walked up to the door to the room she thought she remembered as being the prison.
Taking a deep breath, Wen Qing entered the room.
There, up against the wall with his limbs chained down, was Wen Ning.
But there was another person in the room.
“Hello,” said Jin Guangyao.
Wen Qing’s heart began to pound in her chest as she muttered her greeting in response.
“Ah, you’re the one they send to clean up the mess, aren’t you?”
Wen Qing nodded, afraid that her voice would somehow give her away.
“Good,” Jin Guangyao gestured to Wen Ning in the corner, whose eyes were glazed over, staring straight forward with no thoughts behind them. “He’s lost control of his bowels, you see.”
Wen Qing wanted to ask why but figured that, as a “servant”, it was not her place to ask.
“See to it that he’s taken care of,” Jin Guangyao said, walking towards the door. He paused and looked back at her, “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you new?”
She nodded.
“What’s your name?”
The first name that came to Wen Qing’s lips was her mother’s. “Yu An.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Jin Guangyao gave that uncanny, dimpled smile of his. Wen Qing wondered why he was being so polite to a servant.
When Jin Guangyao left the room, Wen Qing breathed a sigh of relief. She rushed to Wen Ning’s side. “A-ning,” she said. “A-ning, it’s me.”
She waved her hand in front of his eyes, but he showed no sign of response. She reached around to the back of his head and found it--the nail, shoved into the back of his head. She yanked it out, discarding the bloody thing on the floor.
Wen Ning gasped, his eyes suddenly alive and blinking. “No,” he begged. “No more, please...”
“A-ning, it’s me,” Wen Qing said, transforming back to her true face, burn scars and all.
“Jiejie?” Wen Ning gaped at her. “What....but I saw you...in the fire? And, and your face....”
“I know,” she said.
“I--I thought you were dead.”
“No time to explain,” Wen Qing said. She whipped out her sword and sliced through Wen Ning’s chains.
As soon as his shackles were off, Wen Ning threw himself at her and clutched her. She held him, her eyes pricking with tears. He felt solid in her arms. Now that they were reunited, she never wanted to let go.
After a while, she stood up.
“We have to get out of here,” she said, helping Wen Ning to his feet.
***
A ghost? In heaven?
Wen Qing heard the whispers of the other officials as she and Wen Ning walked towards her palace, Wen Ning carrying a basket of medical supplies in his hands. Although it had been days since Wen Ning arrived in heaven, the other officials were not used to seeing him. With his pale skin and black veins, Wen Ning stood out from the rest of the people, as something clearly other than human. Wen Qing’s appearance wasn’t all that normal either.
They were two oddities of heaven, who didn’t much care what the others thought of them.
Wen Ning had told Wen Qing about what was happening on earth. There had been a battle, where many had died, including Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli. Her heart ached knowing that her sacrifice had not stopped the tragedy from happening. Their souls were now elsewhere, beyond her reach. She missed her family and friends deeply.
The only thing Wen Qing took comfort in was that she and Wen Ning were living in peace at last.
They were safe. They had each other.
“Thank you, A-Ning,” Wen Qing said, arriving at her palace and taking a seat at the table.
“You’re welcome, Lady Sun Goddess.” Wen Ning looked down at her, grinning.
“A-Ning,” Wen Qing said, a smile playing on her lips, “...you don’t have to call me that.”
“But, jiejie, it’s your title.”
“The title that you made up.”
Based on the fact that the Wen clan represented the sun, Wen Ning had come up with the idea of calling her a sun goddess. He had even used his rudimentary sewing skills to applique a red sun on the sleeves of her white robes, an improvised version of the robes she had worn in life. Wen Qing thought she liked these better than the ones she used to have; every time she looked down at herself, she saw Wen Ning’s handiwork and felt a warm glow in her chest.
“You have to have a formal title,” insisted Wen Ning, “you’re a goddess now.”
Wen Ning had always believed in gods more than she did. He had prayed to them during times of distress. When they were about to be attacked by the Jin soldiers, he had asked one of the most famous martial gods, Qi Ying, for assistance. That god never fulfilled Wen Ning’s prayer, letting him be skewered and used as bait as if he was nothing but meat. Later, when they had been living in the Burial Mounds and the radishes were failing to grow, Wen Ning had prayed to Lord Rain Master. That prayer had been answered in the form of a rain shower that very afternoon, though at the time, Wen Qing had thought it was pure coincidence. Now she knew: gods were just people, former humans who had ascended. Whether they helped mortals or not was based only on their whims and personality.
Just then, a voice sounded out in the main public communication array. “Calling any available medical masters! There’s been a fight, Quan Yizhen broke his skull again.”
Wen Qing sighed and walked out of the palace.
As a healer, it was her duty to help every person in need of medical care, whether they were a human, god, or ghost. The difference between humans and gods was that humans at least tried to avoid being injured. Gods, particularly the martial ones, used their immortal bodies recklessly, breaking their bones on purpose to prove points or getting into vicious sword fights over petty squabbles.
When Wen Qing arrived at the scene, the bystanders were all gathered around a man bleeding on the floor. The crowd parted for Wen Qing--not in the way of respect, but to avoid being near her, as if she had contracted a plague--much like crowds of cultivators at Cloud Recesses used to when she was on earth. Back then, it had been her blood lineage which made people want to avoid her. Now it was her scarred face, or the fierce corpse behind her, or both.
It didn't matter. She had a job to do.
“Qi Ying made a fool out of himself, again,” a martial god commented.
Wen Qing looked up sharply. “What did you say?”
“Qi Ying. The man you are tending to right now, that's General Qi Ying.”
Wen Qing looked at the man, then at Wen Ning. By the widening of his eyes when Wen Ning looked at the curly-haired man-- half of his face was covered in blood, so it had been difficult to see his face at first--, Wen Qing could tell he recognized the god he’d prayed to when they had been captured. The god who had let Wen Ning die.
Wen Qing’s hands shook as she applied pressure to the injured god’s wound. Wen Ning’s gaze was on her. He had frozen in the middle of handing her a bandage.
She could stop right now.
She could leave Quan Yizhen bleeding on the ground for another medical master to find. Sure, he was immortal, but he could still feel the pain. Why should she relieve a man who had sat in heaven no doubt enjoying himself while his followers suffered and died?
Because it was her duty, that’s why.
“Wen Ning,” said Wen Qing, “...hand me the bandage.”
Wen Ning followed her command.
Wen Qing finished dressing the barely-conscious man as quickly as she could, then turned to leave. The crowd had lessened, but there were still a few people surrounding the patient, watching Wen Qing doing her job while Wen Ning assisted her.
“Who ever heard of a ghost in heaven?” said one of the civil gods, loudly enough that Wen Qing had no doubt it was on purpose.
“Shh...you can’t just say that,” said another official.
“Excuse me,” Xie Lian appeared out of nowhere, having quietly walked into the scene without anyone noticing, “I thought I heard someone say something about ghosts?”
“Uh..I was talking about...” The official gestured in Wen Qing’s direction.
“Yes, Wen Ning is a ghost.” Xie Lian fixed the official with a resolute golden-eyed stare.
“As is my husband, Hua Cheng.”
The official bowed apologetically. “Sorry, My Lord, I did not mean to offend...”
“That’s okay,” Xie Lian was smiling, though Wen Qing sensed that underneath his calm demeanor, Xie Lian could knock down the entire gawking crowd if he was so inclined.
He walked down the street towards his palace, giving Wen Qing and Wen Ning a friendly wave as he passed by.
Wen Qing headed back to her own palace, Wen Ning at her side.
“Wen-guniang,” came a voice all of a sudden. Wen Qing looked up to see Ling Wen standing in the doorway, frowning down at her. “Have you been ignoring my messages in the array?”
“I must not have heard you, I’ve been so busy.”
“Is that so?” Ling Wen said with a hard stare.
“Yes,” Wen Qing stared back just as intensely.
“Well, I’ve come to tell you, you need to fill out this form. You have to put down the name of at least one temple.”
“Ling Wen, you know I do not have a temple, nor do I plan to have people worship me.”
“You must build a following, or else you will cease to exist. I cannot emphasize this enough.”
Wen Qing glanced over at Wen Ning, who was happily arranging Wen Qing’s supplies. He was essentially immortal now, but her immortality was conditional. Ling Wen was right. In order to stay with Wen Ning, she would have to gain worshippers who spoke her name in times of need and left offerings at her temples.
“Think, Wen-guniang,” said Ling Wen, “who do you know in the mortal world who respects you and has some influence?”
Wen Qing thought of the last time she had been in the Burial Mounds. A cultivator dressed in white coming to visit.
“The Second Jade of the Lan Clan, Lan Wangji.”
“Then you must appear to him in a dream. Ask him to take you as a goddess.”
Wen Qing wasn’t sure Lan Wangji believed in the legendary Heavenly Capital. She supposed it could not hurt to give it a try though.
“Also, you need a title, something to put on the plaque of your temple--”
Wen Qing exchanged a look with Wen Ning. “Lady Sun Goddess,” she said, sharing a smile with him.
“Very well.” Ling Wen noted it down on the parchment.
“That title was thought up by A-ning. A pretty good idea coming from a ‘non-living being’, is it not?” Wen Qing said dryly.
Ling Wen blinked, her face looking surprised for a fraction of a second before returning to her usual stoic look. “You have a sharp memory, Wen-guniang. As expected from the top physician of her generation.”
“Is that a compliment?”
Ling Wen did not answer the question. She closed her scroll and turned to leave, “I expect you to fill out that paperwork as soon as possible.”
***
All was quiet in Gusu when Wen Qing appeared. It was past nine pm which meant that, according to their strict rules, everyone was in bed. Gusu looked the same as she remembered it from her school days. It had been a mere few years ago, but it felt like an entire lifetime had passed since then.
Taking a deep breath, Wen Qing walked into the Jinshi, where Lan Wangji was fast asleep in his bed. She approached his bed and, pressing her fingers to his forehead, entered the dream.
Lan Wangji was dreaming about Nightless City. Wen Qing knew that Wei Wuxian had died there, but after being confronted in battle, but she had never seen it with her eyes. She did not want to see it either. In that, she and Lan Wangji were much the same. Both grieving for Wei Wuxian, and wondering what they could have done differently and regretting the way things turned out.
“Lan-er-gongzi,” Wen Qing said. The dream broke, the image of Nightless City being replaced with blank darkness as Lan Wangji’s attention focused on her.
“Wen Qing?”
“Lan Wangji, I need to tell you something. I am a heavenly official now, the Lady Sun Goddess.”
Lan Wangji simply stared at her, not showing any emotion.
Wen Qing explained the situation to him: her ascension, and her need for followers.
“You mean to tell me that you ascended by accident.”
“Yes, that’s how it happens. Fate controls it, not us.”
“Hmm.”
“You believe me, do you not?”
“Yes,” He hesitated a second before asking, “Wen-guniang, have you seen...Wei Ying? Could not he have ascended too?”
A solemn air fell over the two of them. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “I have not seen him. I believe his soul has passed on.”
Lan Wangji frowned slightly, but did not say anything further on the topic. He stood straight, and said seriously, “I will see to it that a shrine is built in your honor.”
“And in return, I will help to cure anyone of their ailments. Thank you, Lan-er-gongzi.”
And then she was being ejected from the dream, her vision jerked back to the reality of the physical present. In the Jingshi, Lan Wangji remained asleep in the same position he was in when she had first entered the room. Wen Qing ascended back to heaven.
Lan Wangji made good on his word the very next day. Over the next few days, Wen Qing saw many of the Lan clan disciples coming to pray, asking for help from the goddess Lan Wangji had said was ‘a friend who died in the war.’ He set up a shrine in one of the back gardens of the Cloud Recesses and burned an incense for her. One of the Lan clan youths painted a picture to represent her. The picture was not quite accurate, for painting Wen Qing as herself would be too recognizable and put an end to any worship she got. So Lan Wangji instructed the disciple to paint a generic dark-haired woman dressed in white, with a sun framing her head, looking down at her worshippers with a dreamy, serene smile that Wen Qing had never worn in her life. It was the image of someone people would want to worship, and that was the objective after all.
The followers asked to be cured of disease or their body’s ailments fixed. Each time she was perfectly happy to give them medical advice in a dream, or even descend herself and place medicine where it could be easily found. After a few weeks, the disciples who were staying at the Cloud Recesses returned to their own homes. There, they spread word of Lady Sun Goddess to their own people. Soon, temples for Wen Qing sprung up in places all across the lands. Healers came to them to seek her blessing when they needed, and sick people asked her for help finding cures.
Wen Qing was able to fill out the paperwork Ling Wen wanted her to fill out with not just one temple name, but ten. They were humble temples, just huts set up by healers in their spare time, but temples all the same. Wen Qing marched down to the Palace of Ling Wen and personally handed Ling Wen the scroll.
Ling Wen looked over it and gave an approving nod. “Congratulations, Wen-guniang. You have become a real goddess.”
“Thank you.” Wen Qing said politely. She turned to leave.
“Wen Qing,” Ling Wen called after her, “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Wen Qing frowned.
“For saying Wen Ning is a ‘non-living being.’ That was inappropriate of me. I know your brother is important to you.”
Wen Qing was taken aback. “Oh, well, thank you for the apology.”
“Please stop ignoring me in the communication array.”
“Ah.” The reason for Ling Wen’s apology was clear to Wen Qing. Still, she appreciated the fact that Ling Wen had said it. Giving the civil goddess a small smile, Wen Qing turned and left the room.
