Chapter Text
A cacophony of servant chatter trailed over the Gong residence. Gong Yuanzhi followed the voices all the way to the gates. Either, he would use his small sabre to end it, one of the new poisons he had in his sachet, or he would do Gong Ziyu a favour and use words. He hadn’t quite decided on which way would be the most effective when he reached the stairs leading to the gate.
The sight that presented itself there shocked him. His brows twitched, questions rose, cold froze his veins and muscles. Surrounded by the group of stoic guards and chattering servants was a man, a boy, barely twenty years old, and his condescending aura restored memories Gong Yuanzhi had long buried. Memories of ordinary tea.
The boy looked up, and his dark eyes sharpened as they fell on Gong Yuanzhi. At the same time, he seemed to suddenly puff up with an aura of rabbit-like innocence.
“Uncle!” the boy exclaimed, and Gong Yuanzhi fainted.
Many years ago, the Gong family had faced some of their most turbulent times. Wufeng assassins had infiltrated their home and chirped their way into his brothers’ hearts. Gong Ziyu had been lucky, as he generally was, fated by the stars to collect friends in the strangest places to this day. Gong Shangjue had been the very opposite to lucky, even though he often attempted to correct Gong Yuanzhi whenever he brought that woman up.
About twenty years ago now, Shangguan Qian had left the Gong residence without a mark on her, but leaving three thousand on Gong Shangjue in return. Had she loved him? Just with a chipped crack of her mouldy heart? Would she return one day? With an army of assassins or without? With a child? The babe that she had stolen from Gong Shangjue in her womb when she had scurried away from him.
Was it real or just another lie?
For years, Gong Shangjue sat between those lumpy looking white flowers and asked himself the same questions. When he went out into the martial world, he kept his eyes and ears open. He hoped to find a clue, hear a word, about his lost wife and rumour of a child.
Now, the rumour had come to him.
“Fate can still smile upon us,” Gong Shangjue said. He fanned air into Gong Yuanzhi’s face, which was red and hot. Not because he had fainted, but because the shame he felt because of it. He was lying in his bed, hiding from the servants’ noisy chatter and the next disaster that had entered their home. That boy. Fate was not smiling; it smirked at them.
“Shangguan Lun found me during my latest visit to the Kunlun Sect. His mother is alive. She hid him for years, travelling from place to place to avoid the remnants of Wufeng that hunted them down. They had a falling out, and he was left behind to fend for himself. So, he decided to search for his father. Yuanzhi, I know you’re wary, but rest assured that I have already spent a lot of time and resources to check if his story is true or not.”
“Ge.” Gong Yuanzhi wasn’t a child anymore, even when Gong Shangjue sat at his bedside like a worried parent. “You’re bringing the enemy into our home.”
“I’m bringing my son home,” Gong Shangjue said. “Take care of your nephew for my sake. If he starts to wander around with his cousins, we will bring doom to the family.”
Gong Yuanzhi would prefer a dozen more explosions to this supposed son. But for the first time in years, Gong Shangjue seemed stuck in a smile, so he swallowed his protests.
“I sent him to you later. Keep an eye on him, while I discuss everything with Gong Ziyu. We mustn’t let our guard down too quickly.”
Gong Yuanzhi felt relief, just a little. His brother still seemed to be somewhat himself under that unfamiliar smile. Open, but cautious. Far too similar to how he had treated Shangguan Qian.
This was another mistake in the making, and here he was, nodding his agreement. After all, he would face all of Wufeng again by himself to give his brother a faint chance at happiness.
Gong Shangjue left him to his thoughts to talk to the Sword Wielder. Gong Yuanzhi yearned to faint again. No thoughts would trouble him in the blank void of unconsciousness.
But fate continued to smirk at his misfortune. Just as he slipped out of his bed, a knock on his door ended his short-lived peace. He opened the door to find the boy waiting there, accompanied by a servant that happily bowed out of the situation.
“Greetings, Uncle.” Shangguan Lun bowed without breaking eye contact. His sharp eyes pierced like poisoned knives into Gong Yuanzhi. Wufeng lingered in those dark depths. Schemes and plots that required a thousand sacrifices to be made without batting even one of those long eyelashes. While he bowed properly, like a nephew happy to serve his favourite uncle, none of the words spoken with his raspy voice even faked politeness.
“Father said that you’re awake again. What a pitiful first meeting we suffered. You fainted so quickly, I nearly failed to catch you before you rolled down all those stairs.”
“You caught me?”
“I caught you.” What an infuriating smirk.
“Well.” Gong Yuanzhi rubbed the back of his head. “This bump reminds me that you didn’t do a very good job.”
“Apologies.” Nothing apologetic about that tone. “I come in and make it up to you.”
Gong Yuanzhi scrunched his nose up involuntarily. No one dared to throw such words at him, such a threatening voice layered with something close to flirtatious. He sized Shangguan Lun up carefully. Regrettably, he was taller than him by a hand or less, and his shoulders far broader than that. Even though his mother was an average martial artist, she seemed to have punched her supposed son into a fierce training routine. He looked strong, intimidating, and pulsed with internal power. His steps were soundless when he tried to enter the room. Uninvited.
Gong Yuanzhi blocked him with his body and a raised brow. “Shangguan Lun, was it?” Another smirk as reply. “You lack politeness. If I had any doubts about you being her son, your attitude would solve them at once.”
“That means you don’t have doubts? I wouldn’t be bothered, if you had. After all, we don’t know each other yet. We have to change that urgently, so that I can prove you… right about trusting me.” Shangguan Lun smirked into him with the hunger of a predator watching a deer stumble clumsily into its trap.
Gong Yuanzhi was no deer, and despite falling down some stairs earlier, apparently, he rarely stumbled. He smirked back. “Go ahead and try.” He made room and invited the snake into his home.
Shangguan Lun smiled and stepped in, brushed his shoulder into Gong Yuanzhi’s sleeve as if to test something. He walked without taking his eyes off Gong Yuanzhi, then snapped his head around and took in the rooms as if he was scouting out enemy territory. This boy shouldn’t be allowed to walk anywhere alone, and yet, he had already been allowed to walk through half the Gong residence with only an easily murderable servant girl at his side.
Shangguan Lun stopped and spotted something of interest, then strutted towards the teapot. “Sit.” He pointed at the table, ordered Gong Yuanzhi around in his own home. “I will serve you.” And pretended it was that politeness he had never been taught about.
Gong Yuanzhi decided to play along for a moment and sat down to be served. He watched Shangguan Lun prepare tea and was reminded of his supposed mother’s movements. She had butchered tea from the first stir to the final pour as well.
When Shangguan Lun turned to glance down at Gong Yuanzhi from the side, smirking at him from above, he did look like a blend of his supposed parents, and not like them at all. If Gong Yuanzhi wasn’t aware that he should be looking out for similarities, he wouldn’t see them. He would’ve walked past this person on the streets, if he ever walked the streets. He would’ve looked back at him too late, because his handsome face was a pity to be missed. And he would’ve moved on, because there were hundreds of handsome faces in the world, and none of them worth a third look.
Shangguan Lun sat down opposite him and poured him tea. He filled the cup with an elegant swirl, tapped the pot against the rim, and allowed not a single a drop to fall on the table. Then he repeated the same movements to fill his own cup. The pride on his face asked for a compliment, so Gong Yuanzhi simply ignored all of it.
“Uncle –”
“Gong-san xiansheng, for you.”
A twitch of something annoyed on that face. “Father said I can call you ‘Uncle’.”
“And I said what I said.”
Shangguan Lun looked at him as if he saw him for the first time, and annoyance seemed to melt into intrigue. “Gong Yuanzhi.” Such a childish point to make, barely worth a response, only an eyeroll. “My mother told me you two never got along. Your past with her shouldn’t affect us. I came searching for a new beginning, a family, a home.”
“She sent you here as a spy. I know exactly what you want.” Gong Yuanzhi let his palm hover over the cup of tea like a lid, pretending he was pondering whether to drink it or pour it out, attack or remain patient, holding Shangguan Lun’s gaze throughout. “She taught you all her tricks, I’m sure, but they aren’t new to us. She surely told you all about it when she prepared you to infiltrate the Gong family after your staged falling-out. You knew where Gong Shangjue would be and waited for him, painted him a tale of a pitiful, abandoned son, and forced him into taking you in. Now, you will try and gain our trust, until you can move freely in the residence, sow discord, steal information and weapons, and whatever your mother’s heart desires. Such a unique plot.”
Shangguan Lun’s eyebrow twitched, only that he seemed more amused than anything else. “You should give it a taste before you judge.”
Gong Yuanzhi took the cup of pitifully poured tea and sipped it, unbothered by whatever poison was offered. Watery and plain. He gifted his nephew a threatening smirk over the rim. “Your tea is even more ordinary than hers.”