Chapter Text
Shen Jiu was not surprised when the girls of the Warm Red Pavilion quickly realized that something was wrong. She had spent enough time in their company for them to tell when her bad mood was feigned and when it was real. Even the fact that she had begun visiting them twice as often as usual was enough to signal that something was amiss.
Yet they did not ask, despite their obvious concern, and Shen Jiu truly appreciated them for it. She let her thoughts drift away as she listened to their chatter, lingering longer than usual in the bath behind the screen; she allowed fragrant tea to warm her stomach, savoring its sweetness on her tongue, and closed her eyes while melodies flowed from their instruments.
“How do you like this song, Jiu-ge?” asked the girl with her hair braided into a lush plait when the melody came to an end. Her lips curved into a charming smile as she waited for an answer.
“Wonderful, Ling Wan. You’ve worked hard on it, and your dizi skills have improved since last time,” Shen Jiu replied, slowly opening her eyes.
“Oh? Won’t Jiu-ge praise the other ladies as well? We worked so hard too,” said the girl seated at the guzheng, folding her hands in her lap. Her speech was drawn-out, her gaze languid, and the front strands of her blue-black hair framed her pale, rounded face.
Ling Wan giggled, covering her mouth with a delicate hand.
“Qi Yue knows perfectly well that her playing is beyond praise,” the corner of Shen Jiu’s lips lifted slightly. She knew Qi Yue’s words were merely a ploy, yet she followed along easily, indulging the light teasing.
“Mei-mei does love compliments,” said the third courtesan softly, setting aside her xiao to pour Shen Jiu a fresh cup of tea. Her hair was beautifully arranged at the back of her head and adorned with a hairpin shaped like a pale pink lily, its stamens chiming softly when she moved.
Shen Jiu drifted inward again while Liu Baihe and Qi Yue teased each other and Lin Wan laughed brightly at her jiejie’s playful quarrel. She had not slept properly for nearly a week, burdening herself with paperwork to exhaust and distract herself, hoping she would be tired enough to sleep tonight. She had even forced down several cups of bitter herbal tea to calm her heart, while the courtesans added relaxing oils to her bath. Everything had been perfectly prepared for at least five hours of rest.
Only a barbarian from Baizhan Peak could have disrupted this peace—someone who might have heard the rumors that Shen Jiu had begun visiting the Warm Red Pavilion even more frequently than before. But she had checked carefully: Liu Qingge had departed on a mission two days ago and would not return for at least three more.
To the sound of music and the courtesans’ murmured voices, she finally fell asleep on the soft bed, wrapped in three inner robes.
Shen Jiu slept for about six hours before Baihe-jie woke her from the beginning of a nightmare, the details of which she could not recall. She had breakfast with the courtesans, allowed Ling Wan to arrange her hair, and left the Warm Red Pavilion closer to noon.
Upon returning to her Peak, she listened to several reports from her shidi and shimei, distributed tasks among them, and then secluded herself in the bamboo house to meditate.
Meditation had been a constant companion ever since she entered the sect after Wu Yanzi. She needed to control her qi to reduce the risk of deviation and continue strengthening herself—after all, among all the Peak Lords of the Cangqiong Sect, her core was still the weakest, something the others never hesitated to point out in veiled ways. Now, however, her meditation focused primarily on mentally blocking memories she absolutely did not want to recall. She could not erase them completely, of course, but it was possible to push them aside, to force her mind to move through them more quickly.
Because she would rather die than relive that pain again and again—the pain in a place she had believed no one would ever reach again. The humiliation she had long buried, dismissing or deflecting every rumor, false accusation, and attack from members of the Cangqiong Sect. The shame left behind in the Qiu estate, which returned together with the numbness that seized her in that moment, as if every muscle in her body had lost its ability to move. The fear. A terror so overwhelming that it made her, with a trembling hand, yank the hairpin from her hair and drive it into the eye of the one who had left his filthy hands on skin she had spent so long and so carefully scrubbing clean of the filth of slavery.
***
The week drew to a close, and the six hours of rest in the warm bed of the Red Pavilion finally lost their effect. At the same time, Yue Qingyuan summoned the Peak Lords for a meeting. Shen Jiu anticipated a headache from seeing them and so drank an entire teapot of calming herbal tea with a generous spoonful of honey, mounted Xiu Ya, and headed for Qiongding Peak.
The Assembly Hall greeted her as usual with contemptuous looks and cold mockery. Without offering the customary greetings, she passed the other Peak Lords with straight posture and a proud bearing and took her seat beside Yue Qingyuan, suppressing the urge to shudder at his close proximity. Elegantly opening her fan, she swept an indifferent gaze over those gathered, ignoring Liu Qingge’s furious glare, Qi Qingqi’s obvious disdain, and the rest’s displeasure.
“Thank you all for coming. We will now begin the Peak Lords’ assembly of the Cangqiong Sect,” the sect leader said, unfolding a rather long scroll covered in neat, pleasant calligraphy.
Shen Jiu waited patiently while Yue Qingyuan distributed assignments among the Peak Lords and their disciples, if they had any. She herself had no intention of taking on missions anytime soon—first, she needed to recover from… from the previous one. And she had no disciples yet, only shidi and shimei who studied alongside her and who, for the most part, would soon leave the Peak upon completing their training.
“Very well,” Yue Qingyuan nodded, rolling up the scroll. “Now we’ll move on to discussion. Does anyone have anything to say?”
“Qiancao Peak needs its supplies replenished,” Mu Qingfang said, pushing a bamboo slip toward the center of the table. “Anding Peak has already approved the list.”
Yue Qingyuan reviewed it and stamped it with his seal. The matter of who would gather the rare ingredients was quickly settled—Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi divided the task between themselves. For another half hour, the Peak Lords exchanged information, requests, scrolls, and bamboo slips. Throughout it all, Shen Jiu lazily fanned herself, radiating utter boredom. Her Peak lacked nothing, and the others did not require her Peak’s assistance, which suited her perfectly.
“Shen Qingqiu!” Qi Qingqi suddenly exclaimed when the discussions fell silent. All eyes immediately turned to her. “How long do you plan to disgrace our Sect?”
Shen Jiu merely raised an eyebrow slightly, unwilling to expend more effort on the woman.
“You lazy good-for-nothing! You didn’t take a single mission, just sitting there as if everyone owes you something!” Qi Qingqi continued.
“And running around brothels nonstop, shameless!” Liu Qingge added.
“Let’s not—” Yue Qingyuan tried to interject, but was cut off.
“Forgive me, Yue-shixiong, but this has become unbearable,” Wei Qingwei crossed his arms over his chest. “Shen Qingqiu went on his first and last mission a month ago, while the others have completed at least four by now. All he does is sit on his Peak and indulge in debauchery.”
Mu Qingfang did not join the argument—one raised at nearly every meeting—but his pressed lips and furrowed brows showed his agreement. Shang Qinghua, meanwhile, shrank inward at the brewing conflict, shaking his head as he followed the exchange.
Before Yue Qingyuan could respond, Shen Jiu snapped her fan shut.
“I haven’t heard a single mission worthy of my participation,” she said, rising from the table. “And if the Lords are so interested in my personal and intimate life, perhaps they should acquire one of their own.”
She opened her fan again. “If that’s all, I’m leaving.”
With her chin held high, Shen Jiu strode toward the exit without waiting for Yue Qingyuan’s permission, ignoring the angry shouts hurled after her. Already on her way back to her Peak, her eyes narrowed slightly.
The headache had caught up with her after all.