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It was with great reluctance that Liu Qingge agreed to follow Shen Qingqiu into the succubi’s den.
He would have by far preferred a fair fight to—whatever was taking place before him now. If Shen Qingqiu had not threatened to sabotage the mission, Liu Qingge would simply have dragged the men home and then returned to deal with the succubi; but for some unknown reason, Shen Qingqiu had accepted the eldest succubus’s invitation into her lair.
And then (at the invitation of the so-called Madam Meiyin, who had not ceased batting her lashes at Liu Qingge since the moment she laid eyes on him) Shen Qingqiu decided to take tea with the demoness while they waited for the younger succubi to fetch their victim from the inner chambers of the den. Liu Qingge guessed this was an attempt at being diplomatic, though there was no sense in being diplomatic with a group of demons who had no business making free in the mortal realm; and when the hapless Lai-gongzi did not appear after a ke or so, the demoness asked if Shen Qingqiu would like him to read his fortune.
“If the Madam would be so kind,” Shen Qingqiu replied, from behind his fan.
He ignored Liu Qingge’s incredulous stare and moved his chair closer to Madam Meiyin, who had produced a half-blown peony from somewhere and held it out for him to see.
“Breathe upon the flower —gently,” she amended, as Shen Qingqiu drew a deep breath. “I shall look into it and tell you your fate in love.”
“In love? What a waste of—”
“Quiet, Liu-shidi,” Shen Qingqiu drawled. “Don’t interrupt.”
He bent forward and did as the succubis bid him; and when he withdrew, the peony blossom on the demoness’s palms was in full bloom. She looked into the heart of the flower, squinting; and though she essayed to keep a straight face, Liu Qingge could tell from the sudden turn of her mouth that whatever she saw there boded nothing good.
“You need not hesitate to tell me if this master’s fate is to be alone,” Shen Qingqiu said idly, as the color drained from Madam Meiyin’s cheek. “I have no intention of marrying, so—”
“Shen-fengzhu is bound by a very strong red thread,” Madam Meiyin interrupted. “But…”
“But what?” snapped Liu Qingge.
Shen Qingqiu sneered and opened his mouth—to mock Liu Qingge, most likely—but before he could speak, Madam Meiyin cut him off.
“If the two of you had not come here today,” she said, “I fear that Shen-fengzhu would have driven his destined one to death: and sooner rather than later.”
Shen Qingqiu stared at her. “Is that all you have to say?” he asked at length. “I had heard tell that the Madam’s skill in this regard was unparalleled; but I see now that I was mistaken. I have no such entanglements, and so—”
“Some years ago, you and your beloved were walking down a busy street together, and there was a wedding taking place at an estate nearby,” Madam Meiyin said loudly. “A servant-girl gave her a good-luck pastry, which she tore in half and shared with you; but there was a piece of walnut shell in her half, and she nearly broke a tooth on it.”
At this, Shen Qingqiu went white. He opened his fan and put his face behind it, as if in an attempt to conceal the fact that the demoness’s words had stirred some distant memory: and then, without warning, he rose to his feet and turned toward the door.
“Come, Liu-shidi. We have tarried long enough; and I have no more patience for party tricks such as these, so if you would make haste—”
“If you walk out that door,” Madam Meiyin remarked, “your fated one will be doomed; but if you remain, and heed my words, there is some chance that she might live to see another decade.”
And then: “You do not fear the prospect of her suffering very much, I see. Would you like this good shidi of yours to learn who she is? Very well, then: her name is Qi—”
“No!” shouted Shen Qingqiu; and before Liu Qingge could blink, he was seated in the chair opposite Madam Meiyin’s once again.
Liu Qingge gaped at them. “So there is a beloved?” he demanded, as Shen Qingqiu seized the hem of his robe and wrung it between his palms. “She wasn’t just inventing things?”
But Shen Qingqiu did not answer. His gaze was fixed upon Madam Meiyin; and at last, he said: “Tell me more.”
“Your fated one loves you to death, Shen-fengzhu,” she murmured. “And you love her in return, I think; but there is a great deal of turmoil in your love, and she will perish knowing nothing of it. For you walk upon a dark road, one of your own choosing, and in choosing you have settled both your ruin and hers.”
“So you have said,” Shen Qingqiu said tersely. “But you have also said that she might be spared. What must I do to ensure it?”
Madam Meiyin folded her hands. “Obey her.”
“....What?”
“You must obey her,” Madam Meiyin repeated. “And I do not only mean that you must do as she bids you.”
“What do you mean, then?”
“That you must do nothing that would grieve her, whether she knows what you do or not,” said Madam Meiyin. “For some deed she takes objection to will lead you to your ends together: and not only one such deed, but many. I have no way of knowing what deeds those are: for they have no connection to your fate in love, so to speak, and so I cannot tell you any more than this.”
“Now this is a thing you might say to any man!” Shen Qingqiu retorted, with a harsh cry of laughter. “‘Heed your wife, however it might goad you, and so be spared from grief for yourself and your family.’ Is it not so?”
For a while, Madam Meiyin did not speak. She watched Shen Qingqiu with unblinking eyes, perhaps reading something more in his face and the faint tremor of his fingers than he would have liked to betray: and then she rose from her silk-covered chair and dusted off her skirts.
“Shen-fengzhu cannot avail himself of life-saving gifts flung directly in his path, I see,” she said softly. “Then I shall tell you this: fail to heed my words, and you need not fear that you will live to see your beloved buried. There will be nothing left of her to bury, unless you wish to scrape up the pulp of her flesh and the blood-soaked earth from her dying-place and entomb them in her stead; and she will die wretched, in utter torment, knowing that you were the author of her undoing and yet hoping beyond all hope to see you once again.
“That is the death that awaits the one who loves you; and yours will be worse yet, though I know well enough that no warning of your own fate will sway you.”
And with that, she lifted her hand and stirred up a great wind from the perfumed air that surrounded her: and though Liu Qingge clung fast to the walls in an attempt to keep his balance, he and Shen Qingqiu were blown out of the den and back up the long corridor leading to the woods beyond, where they collapsed, panting. When they got to their feet, they found that the mouth of the cave had vanished: and Liu Qingge kicked at the cliff-face and cursed aloud, for the young master they were meant to rescue was still locked away within.
“Cease that racket,” Shen Qingqiu said dully. “There are always two or three mouths to a succubus’s den. Go around the back of the mountain, and you’ll find another.”
Liu Qingge snorted and took his leave, Cheng Luan over his shoulder. He did not ask Shen Qingqiu to accompany him, and Shen Qingqiu did not offer; and when he returned, dragging the unconscious Ju-gongzi behind him, neither of them mentioned Madam Meiyin’s warning on their way back to the young man’s village.
Privately, Liu Qingge doubted that Shen Qingqiu would heed it. It had been too vague; and it was the way of men to grieve their wives, or so his own mother had told him. Liu Bolin—his father—took all manner of risks on the night-hunts he attended, despite the pleas of Liu Qingge’s mother, herself a renowned night-hunter; and common men would persist in drinking, and gambling, even if their own wives begged them to treat more carefully with their fortunes and bodies.
It was a great deal easier to say leave off the liquor! to a man than command him to obey his wife in all things, no matter how great or small: and Shen Qingqiu had never obeyed anybody. Even Yue Qingyuan received only reluctant obedience where Shen Qingqiu was concerned, though he was both zhangmen and shixiong; and Mu Qingfang had long since given up hope that Shen Qingqiu would listen to him, even when his commands were for the latter’s own good.
But it is too bad, Liu Qingge found himself thinking, that his beloved will die, too. If he wants to march to his own destruction, that is his affair; but for his idiocy to spell the death of an innocent woman—
Suddenly, inspiration struck him. Perhaps there would be no saving Shen Qingqiu: but Yue Qingyuan had known him far longer than the rest of their disciple-siblings. He of all people would know who the maiden was, if anyone were privy to that knowledge other than Shen Qingqiu himself; and if Yue-zhangmen intervened, the maiden might be saved from whatever end Shen Qingqiu’s idiocy would devise for her.
With that thought, he sped forth with a lighter heart, paying no mind to the green-clad figure muttering insults behind him: and when they returned to Cang Qiong, Liu Qingge marched up the grand stair that led to Qiong Ding and waited until one of Yue Qingyuan’s inner disciples came to see what he wanted.
“Bring me to your Shizun,” Liu Qingge said loudly. “There is something I must tell him.”