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Chapter Text

A carriage drew up to the manor in the early hours of the rainy morning. It was drawn together from dark wood, with a rounded roof and thick black curtains. Two young cultivators sat at its front, dressed as well in stylish, dark robes. Sheltered from the rain by its front awning, they did not exit the carriage when it stopped. Instead, a pale hand reached out from between the silk curtains and pushed them to the side. The cultivator that exited the carriage looked strangely familiar: she was a tall and thin woman, with an elegant face and a curtain of black hair. Grimacing at the rain, she turned and grabbed something from the interior of the carriage: a black umbrella. Finally, the woman barked something to the two attendants driving the carriage, snapped the umbrella open, and stepped out into the rain to walk up the path to the front door.

The slave watching the proceedings from a far off window dropped the curtain and turned around, frowning. Her Mistress had mentioned this visiting cultivator– a sealed letter had arrived well in advance announcing her arrival from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. The entire household had been sent into a frenzy because of it; servants were running this way and that, tidying up every corner. Yue Qi had been told to stay out of the way of this illustrious woman.

Madame Bai loved powerful women and spoke about them often. She loved to imagine that she was one of them, that she, with all of her wealth, belonged up there with the cultivators. Yue Qi had always thought that belief to be foolish– though she was the lowest of the low, even she could recognize that the cultivators existed above all others, even the wealthy. Money could not purchase immortality. Yue Qi's hard work would not make her immortal, either.

But then, she was in no position to pass judgment on the woman who owned her, nor anyone else. She had one, simple purpose now. To serve.

She had already rescued Shen Jiu from the Qius, long ago. As a child, she had finally learned to lie long enough to convince Qiu Jianluo that it had been her, and not Shen Jiu, who had accessed her spiritual powers that day.

Once, she and Shen Jiu had sat on opposite sides of a door, and Shen Jiu had bade her come closer, so that she would remember her face before she left for Cang Qiong mountain to become a cultivator. Yue Qi had crawled to the door and looked Shen Jiu in the eye and promised to stay put, to wait for Shen Jiu as long as she could. That had been her intention, but Qiu Jianluo had grown tired of her uninteresting presence, and she had been sold, and then sold again, and again. If Shen Jiu was alive— and she had to be, had to be , for Yue Qi had saved her and she was smart and clever— she would not be able to find Yue Qi now.

This was her lot in life, and she had accepted it.

Yue Qi, so engrossed in her dusting (for the third time) of the sitting room, barely caught the performance of the Sect Leader’s entrance. The exchange of pleasantries between her and Madame Bai, discussion of the rain and if someone could please take the Sect Leader’s umbrella? There was chatter about the disciples, now also making their way to the door (Yue Qi confirmed this from the window), about their rooms (clean and waiting for them) and about baths and food and finally tea and discussion of the ghost problem that the Sect Leader had so dearly laid out in her letter.

Their footsteps grew closer. Yue Qi collected her rag and surveyed the room one final time. Several plush chairs were laid before the great window, a dark wood table between them. The room had been lavishly decorated with trinkets and knick knacks from across the cultivation world, all of which Yue Qi had been assured cost more than she had. She lit a stick of incense to prepare the room for them in full and then disappeared behind another doorway. 

On its opposite end, the entire household staff, including the maid who had already prepared to serve the Sect Leader, was blatantly eavesdropping. Yue Qi snorted. But then she, too, wanted to listen in.

This Sect Leader from Cang Qiong, she had realized, while listening to Madame Bai panic about her arrival, was the only chance she would ever have to learn what had happened to Shen Jiu. 

In the other room, the Sect Leader began to explain the issue of a ghost she had tracked to this very manor. The household looked flummoxed. Yue Qi sighed, then plastered on a serene and comforting smile, the sort she often used when Madame Bai (or any of her old masters) had been feeling cruel.

“Come now,” she whispered, “don’t we all have work to do? One visitor is not something new for us. Now is the time to do things you would rather our mistress rather not see.”

They scattered like mice, except for the server, waiting for the appropriate time to enter the room. An idea bloomed in Yue Qi’s mind, like a particularly stubborn weed on a stone.

In one swift movement, Yue Qi took the tea tray from her fellow slave, already prepared for whatever beating would come after this, and swept quickly into the room before a single word could be said.

She needed not to look at her mistress to know her jaw was clenching and her lips were thinned with irritation. There was the crack of her snapping her closed fan on her palm; the sound made Yue Qi flench despite her attempt at decorum. It signified later pain.

“Sect Leader," Madame Bai repeated, "the ghost?"

For some reason, the previously-composed Sect Leader startled. "Yes," she said, "the ghost I have been hunting."

Now that Yue Qi was serving the tea, she took the chance to examine the woman. The Sect Leader of Cang Qiong Mountain had an angular, delicate face, with a gentle mouth and deep eyes. Her expression was mysterious as she caught Yue Qi staring, her dark eyes glimmering, watching her with strange intensity.

Yue Qi felt the weight of her gaze like a collar around her neck as she left the room. Something about it made her shiver.

She stood just outside the doorway, unable to reenter the room and yet unwilling to leave the only connection to Shen Jiu that she had. 

"I am correct," she heard the Sect Leader say, her voice rougher than its earlier lilt. "If you will all evacuate this home, I will exorcize it for you."

"How strange," tittered Madame Bai, "I have never heard of such a mysterious, wandering ghost."

"It is not as though this one wanders of her own free will," the Sect Leader snapped. "You made a purchase, which then brought her into your home."

"And you are certain she is here?"

"I am. I have been searching for her for much of my life, you see. And her presence in this place has been made known to me. Even now she is haunting me, in the periphery of my senses."

Yue Qi furrowed her brow. She was no expert in ghosts– had not been given any chance to learn to read or write or seek education, had been given no purpose beyond service, but she was certain she would have noticed a ghost or a cursed object. No strange misfortune occurred in this home, except perhaps the beatings, and the rotting in the lungs of the sickly. But this was not the attacking of a ghost, was it?

Madame Bai echoed her. "We have not seen any evidence of such a haunting."

"And yet I know the ghost is here. The records are clear."

"What purchase, if I may ask, was it?"

The Sect Leader's voice sharpened. "You may not ask." She snapped her fan shut. "On the third day of my stay, once I have located the ghost for sure, you shall evacuate this manor of its every residence so that the hunt may proceed in peace. I will let you know when it is safe to return."

Madame Bai placed her teacup upon the table. "Well, as you are the Sect Leader of Cang Qiong, I'm afraid I have no choice but to believe you." She paused, a moment. Then: "Yue Qi!"

Madame Bai's sharp voice promised wreath. Yue Qi was at her side immediately.

"Yes Mistress?"

She could not help but squirm, slightly, beneath the Sect Leader's gaze. It felt so hot against her skin. 

Why did she seem so… familiar?

Madame Bai pinched her cheek and tugged at it hard. "Don't think I didn't catch you slipping out here when you weren't supposed to. Did you want to catch a hint of this illustrious cultivator?"

Yue Qi winced. "I… did."

Madame Bai removed her hand, gesturing toward the sect leader. "How an immortal must seem to a small creature like you, I shall always wonder." She sighed. "But I am getting ahead of myself, and in front of the Sect Leader, no less! You will clean up after us, though, since you were so desperate to serve."

Yue Qi nodded, bent over the table, and began to collect the empty cups, pots, and plates onto the tea tray. Madame Bai continued, as though she were not there.

"You shall have to excuse this one, Sect Leader. Before she came here she was sold from household to household due to her misbehavior and impulsiveness. Always breaking things, too."

The Sect Leader sipped her tea. "There is nothing wrong with breaking something now and again."

Yue Qi actually broke very little. Around the house, Yue Qi had a reputation for being clumsy and useless. This was not her fault; rather, when another slave made a mistake, Yue Qi would take responsibility for it, and would claim it had been hers every chance she got. She therefore received almost all of the beatings. Her back, if she could ever see it, was probably covered in scars and welts. 

She reached for a particularly far-off plate and hissed when those wounds with their thick scarring tugged at her skin. 

“Oh," growled the Sect Leader, " is that so?"

Madame Bai went on. "She is a sweet thing, though. This is how I know she was a worthwhile purchase. She always does the work." She dropped her hand suddenly onto Yue Qi's shoulder.

Yue Qi's hand knocked the teapot in surprise; it smashed to pieces on the floor. Ah. Now she was in trouble.  

"A-apologies, Mistress," Yue Qi stuttered. The pace of her heartbeat quickened. She fell quickly to her knees to pick up the shards. If she could clean fast enough, be unobtrusive enough, perhaps–

Madame Bai struck Yue Qi's head with the heel of her palm. Yue Qi bit her lip to avoid crying out in front of the Sect Leader. This strange and mysterious women couldn't know what kind of a person Yue Qi was. She needed to make a good impression, needed to convince her that talking to a slave was a worthwhile use of her time.

She heard, distantly, something creak and shatter.

"Why, Sect Leader," she heard Madame Bai coo, "your hand!"

Yue Qi looked up. Instead of the delicate, porcelain teacup, there was a mixture of shards and blood in the Sect Leader's hand. She looked down at it with a blank expression, before looking up at Madame Bai.

That was two pieces from her Mistress' favorite tea set gone, now. She would not be pleased.

"Ah, I am tired from my journey. Perhaps now my disciples and I might be brought to our rooms?"

"Of course."

“And surely this one can do it," said the Sect Leader, pointing at Yue Qi for some reason.

“She has cleaning to do," said Madame Bai, "for the mess she's made of this whole evening."

Yue Qi finally gathered the last of the shards of the teapot on the tray, and turned now to the Sect Leader. At her feet, there were shards. It was dangerous underfoot. Yue Qi picked them up.

The Sect Leader's free hand lifted, hovered above Yue Qi's head, and then stopped, for some reason or another. Strange, this woman was. Or perhaps she was simply respecting that Yue Qi was someone else's property. Or perhaps all cultivators were strange. She thought that maybe the robes of the Sect Leader, so dark and gentle, shimmering iridescent in the grey morning light, would have suited her Xiao Jiu. Would she have worn similar colors? Would she have been similarly strange?

"Madame Sect Leader," said Yue Qi, taking a chance, "there are shards of porcelain in your hand, which may splinter in your skin if untended to. Would you kindly allow this one to pick them out?"

"Yue Qi," hissed Madame Bai, "you are truly impulsive today. My apologies for this one, Sect Leader–"

"No," said the Sect Leader, voice low. "It's okay."

The bloody hand she lowered before Yue Qi was trembling. Yue Qi, trying her best to be gentle, took it in her own hand, marveling for a moment at what a delicate, slender thing the Sect Leader's hand was, fitting nicely in her palm. She began to pick out the green-white porcelain shards one by one.

The Sect Leader's skin was soft. Her dark gaze bore into Yue Qi once more. She did not say anything. She simply watched, until the shards were all out, and Yue Qi finally stood with the now-full tray.

There. Surely now, she would remember Yue Qi later, and be amicable to speaking to her for a moment. 

As the Sect Leader and Madame Bai stood, Yue Qi swept from the room, rushing as quickly as she could to the kitchens. The dishes would be cleaned, the porcelain swept away and discarded. Yue Qi set herself back to work as quickly as she could, tidying the house. 

The manor was not the largest she had served at, but neither was it the smallest. Madame Bai, who often bewailed how alone she was without her long-dead spouse to comfort her, spent her days sending letters back and forth, and living off of her husband's leftover wealth and the money the household still made as a landlord. The man had already been dead by the time Yue Qi had been taken into the household, and so instead she had been left to deal with Madame Bai in all of her idleness.

She was not a cruel woman, or at least not unkind. She gave to charity, sponsored the education of several of the village children, and did not overcharge for the rents that she collected from her various tenants. She smiled often and enjoyed entertaining guests, and was sweet and kind to her slaves most often. She was kinder than the Qius had been.

But Yue Qi was simply biding her time. As soon as the Sect Leader had been brought to her room and was out of sight of any acts of violence, Madame Bai, or some proxy, would be upon her with the discipline whip. For now she would wait until she was called upon.

The first day passed in quiet drudgery. Yue Qi was never approached. Instead, Madame Bai seemed glued to the Sect Leader’s side, having made Yue Qi dress her in the most expensive jewels she owned. Perhaps Madame Bai did not want to perform something so vulgar before someone as lofty as the Sect Leader. Perhaps she simply wanted to impress her. Yue Qi had seen Madame Bai that evening, standing before the bronze mirror, adjusting the grip on her fan to look more like the Sect Leader’s own.

Morning came. Yue Qi woke, dressed, and drew Madame Bai’s bath. Bucketful after bucketful she hauled the hot water up and down the hall. By now she had grown skilled at the process: she did not spill a drop.

The Sect Leader, already awake even at the early hour, approached her in the hallway.

“Excuse me,” she said, clutching her fan so tight her knuckles were whitening and the wood creaked. 

“Ah, Madame Sect Leader.” Yue Qi smiled, serene, servile. She was determined that the Sect Leader liked her. “I was just drawing a hot bath for Madame Bai. Would you like one as well? I can have one brought up for you.”

The Sect Leader eyed the bucket, gaze imperious. Had Yue Qi upset her? “You seem busy right now.”

“It’s no matter.” She lightened her smile and made it as agreeable as possible. “I can pass the word on.”

“I think I’ll pass,” said the Sect Leader. “I wouldn’t want Madame Bai to have a cold bath.”

Yue Qi nodded. “Thank you, Madame Sect Leader. Please ask if you need something.”

The Sect Leader disappeared into her room. Yue Qi continued on her way, filling the bathtub entirely and gathering the soap. She passed Madame Bai’s personal servant in the middle of waking her on her way out.

“Yue Qi,” she heard. Turning around, Yue Qi caught sight of Madame Bai, lounging in her bed. “Come here.”

Yue Qi came to her. “Yes, Mistress?”

“I want no more starry-eyed displays from you.” She reached up to tug harshly at a loose strand of Yue Qi’s bun. “Today is the day the Sect Leader hunts for her ghost, and we must all do our best to stay out of her way. This means you.” Her hand came to tug again at Yue Qi’s cheek.

It was at moments like these that Yue Qi reminded herself to feel lucky. She’d had far crueler masters, who had touched her in far crueler ways, but if she recoiled from Madame Bai’s touch, she would be slapped.

“I will do my best not to be a bother,” Yue Qi said.

“Do not speak to her,” said Madame Bai. “She was so angry yesterday. What a snappish woman!” Madame Bai sighed. “You shall be careful not to set her off again. I cannot have her thinking I do not know how to manage my household or discipline my property.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Madame Bai slapped her. “I only just told you not to speak today.”

She had changed the rules. Yue Qi worked to keep a smile upon her face. Madame Bai patted the reddened cheek, as though to make up for the bruising. As though she had not been the one to cause it. “See, just like that.”

Forbidden from speaking, Yue Qi simply nodded. Madame Bai dismissed her from the room. Yue Qi left, feeling a strange tightening in her ribcage.

How odd. Usually, Madame Bai’s behavior, cruel as she understood it to be, did not stand out to her. Today, it left a withering feeling inside of her. Perhaps it was the appearance of the Sect Leader: a reminder that a world and a life existed outside of this one.

A world that had Shen Jiu in it.

For her own breakfast, Yue Qi ate from a large pot of watery congee that had been set aside for the servants, scraping every bit she could from the side of her bowl with a chipped spoon. Then she stood, brushed down the rough fabric of her skirts, and began her duties for the day.

Everything passed in a blur. It always did, when the rain came down and doused the world in cold and gray. When she was dusting the same little trinkets she had always dusted over and over and over again, teapots and silks and dolls and statuettes from every corner of the world. Even a demonic artifact or two, which usually were harmless but sometimes burned her hands when she touched them. All of which, Madame Bai liked to remind her when she found Yue Qi to be subpar, had cost more than her.

Yue Qi next turned her attention to the wood of the floor. Bent over her work, brows furrowed, scrubbing at a particularly tough stain that someone had missed, Yue Qi did not even notice when someone else entered the room. She did not notice the sound of her footsteps over the patter of the rain, nor her shadow breaking up the gray morning light. There was only the ache in her hunched back, the throbbing of her knees, and the pulsing of her wrist and forearm.

She noticed nothing at all over these little pains, until she heard the broken little voice call out at a near whisper:

“Qi-jie?”

Yue Qi looked up, suddenly unable to breathe.

The woman standing before her was the Sect Leader. But those soft cheeks and that thin, pointed face, was becoming familiar. There was the same curve to her eyebrows, the same shape to her frown, the same dark hair, as the little girl she had always known.

“Xiao Jiu?” Yue Qi breathed. She stumbled upward to her feet. The woman who was Xiao Jiu reached out a hand to help her and yet could not make that final move and touch her. 

Shen Jiu was only a few inches shorter than Yue Qi. In the passing years she had grown tall and lanky, with a healthy glow to her cheeks. Her white-knuckled hands, clutching tightly the fan in their grip, were lanky and delicate. Yue Qi wondered at how beautiful she looked, how ethereal and mysterious those tight-tied black robes fit her.

In her ill-fitting, scratchy browns, Yue Qi must have been a terrible sight. She suddenly became aware of her station: she, a mere slave, was talking to the Sect Leader of Cang Qiong Mountain! And yet the Sect Leader was her Xiao Jiu. She would not leave her side for as long as she stayed.

“Qi-jie,” Shen Jiu whispered again. She raised her arms, as though to embrace her, but stopped. Her hands hovered just above Yue Qi’s bruised skin.

“Xiao Jiu. I had hoped so much that you would live.”

Shen Jiu smiled, acerbic and watery. “I did. And now I’ve come back for you.”

Yue Qi blinked, surprised. Come... back for her? “But why?”

Yue Qi had thought it obvious why Shen Jiu, were she still alive, had not returned for her. That she had ascended beyond Yue Qi's comprehension. Why was she here now, holding a fan to cover the pinched expression on her face?

Shen Jiu recoiled. “I said I would.” She glanced away for a moment. Yue Qi desperately wished for the return of that heavy gaze. “Your Xiao Jiu is sorry that you had to wait for her for so long.”

Ah, that childhood promise. She had almost forgotten it. Now she remembered its taste on her tongue, so sweet and innocent. Neither of them had understood then how the world worked. “Are you purchasing me, then?” She wondered what that would be like. Belonging to someone she actually liked. To someone who would never hurt her. If it was her Xiao Jiu, Yue Qi would be happy to do her chores and pamper her forever. She opened her mouth to say as much, feeling rather impulsive.

Shen Jiu balked before she could speak. “Why on earth would I do that? You won’t be my property. You’ll be whoever you want. I would... be quite happy, if you came with me, though.”

“Um--”

Yue Qi was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Madame Bai, whose presence was beginning to grow more and more irritating the more that Xiao Jiu became a reality. Why did she have to stick around and listen to this woman, when Shen Jiu was right in front of her? “Yue Qi. You know what I told you.”

She watched the near-broken expression on Shen Jiu’s face twist into something resembling hatred. Ah, how had she not been able to tell? This was so obviously her Xiao Jiu. Yue Qi smiled just seeing that old spark.

“Yue Qi,” said Madame Bai, “come here.” There was the thwack of her fan slapping against her palm. Her voice promised the beating that had been awaiting her for days.

Yue Qi looked to Shen Jiu, whose expression was positively murderous. A thrill shivered up her spine.

“I’m afraid there’s no time for that, Madame Bai. Please empty your staff from the house. It is time for me to exorcize the ghost, and I need to make certain that all of you are out of harm’s way.”

Madame Bai nodded, momentarily distracted. “Then I shall send everyone out.” Turning, she left the room.

Right. The ghost. “May I help?” Yue Qi asked. 

Shen Jiu stared at her, thoughtful. “Go outside. And stay near my disciples and away from Madame Bai.”

“Won’t it be hard to fight the ghost alone?”

Shen Jiu looked left, then right. She leaned forward. Her pink lips nearly brushed against Yue Qi’s ear. “ You are my ghost.” 

Yue Qi trembled at the closeness and the warmth of Shen Jiu’s breath. “Ah, I see.”

“Now go outside, Qi-jie. I am about to do something quite dangerous.”

Yue Qi was, for once, perfectly happy to obey.

The entire household filed outside and into the rain. Madame Bai’s personal maidservant stood beside her, holding up an umbrella. The rest of the household-- several slaves and a hired cook-- including Yue Qi were completely drenched. 

Yue Qi did not mind the rain, but she shivered in the cold. 

A moment later, the patter upon her face stopped when a black umbrella was held above her. Yue Qi looked to her side, where Shen Jiu was radiating smugness.

“What are you doing?” she could not help but ask. 

“Watch,” said Shen Jiu, a smirk spreading across her face. She snapped those gentle, dextrous fingers.

And Bai Manor went up in flames. Madame Bai shrieked. There went her manor, and her expensive clothing, and all of the trinkets she had collected from all the world, into ashes. The rain wasn’t even helping to douse the fire one bit. The flames were... satisfying. 

Yue Qi blinked, uncertain of what reaction she was supposed to be having. “W-was that... intentional?”

Shen Jiu’s smirk had become a full on grin, like a satisfied cat with a bird in its mouth.

“It was. A little revenge for you, Qi-jie, from me. Now there is nothing Madame Bai can do to keep you. You may go anywhere and do whatever you like.” 

“Ah.”

Her Xiao Jiu had found her. Had found her, and rescued her. An impossibility had come true. The decade she had spent waiting and working and being beaten was coming to an end.

In Yue Qi’s reverie, she nearly missed Shen Jiu addressing the entire household.

“Your documents are now destroyed,” Shen Jiu was saying, actively ignoring Madame Bai’s squacks of protest, “and Madame Bai has no hold over you. Naturally, Cang Qiong will sponsor all of you while you get back on your feet and build new lives. But there is no reason to serve any other master ever again. My disciple will help you settle in.”

Yue Qi blinked. 

“And Qi-jie,” Shen Jiu began, voice quieting. 

“Yes, Xiao Jiu?”

“Come to Cang Qiong with me. I have a room waiting just for you. There is food for you to eat, and all of the comforts you could ever want.”

All that Yue Qi really wanted was her Xiao Jiu.

“Will you be there?”

“I will.”

“Then I will come.”

Turning to the carriage, now waiting before them, Shen Jiu parted the silk curtains with a pale hand. The inside was warm, well insulated, with soft seats and a small table. Yue Qi took Shen Jiu’s hand. The other woman stared, wide-eyed, at the contact.

“You first,” Shen Jiu said, allowing Yue Qi to press her weight against her palm in order to make the high step into the carriage. She followed right behind and closed the umbrella. They stood together, in that quiet warmth, as the vehicle took the two of them to Cang Qiong.

Chapter Text

They rode home in silence, settled on opposite sides of the carriage. Yue Qi was staring, desperately, out the window, watching a world she had never been allowed to see go by as quickly as a horse could run. And she was shivering, in the cold. Shen Jiu wanted, oh how she wanted, nothing more than to sit beside her and pull her close and warm her up.

But Yue Qi had not been touched kindly for decades. Yue Qi had been hit and abused by master after master. Why should she want Shen Jiu’s touch, when Shen Jiu’s status was now even higher than theirs?

And Shen Jiu did not deserve to lay her hands upon her.

Yue Qi’s former mistress had not lived far from Cang Qiong. It wasn’t even more than two day’s ride. Ground that could be covered in half that on a sword. All this time, she had been here. Here. And perhaps this was what stung the most of all. That Madame Bai had purchased her and kept her so close to Shen Jiu, and yet Shen Jiu had not noticed.

So. She did not deserve to get to want Yue Qi near.

Even malnourished as she clearly was, Yue Qi carried herself with an elegant beauty. There was a calmness to her shoulders, a softness to her curves. Despite the bags beneath her eyes, her face glowed with rosy cheeks and soft, plump lips. Her black hair had fallen from its strict, simple tie and now rested against her shoulders and over her chest like a cloak of fine silk.

Shen Jiu could not tear her eyes away.

Yue Qi looked so alive. A sickly sort of living, and desperately in need of a blanket, but alive. And she was there, right there in front of Shen Jiu, where she belonged. No doors between them.

Perhaps it was merely the bumping of the carriage, but Shen Jiu felt ill. Suddenly, she felt aware of the fine silks draped over her thin form, of the fanciful jewelry and the guan that crowned her as Sect Leader. Yue Qi was still wearing rags. There was still dirt on her face.

Shen Jiu wanted so desperately to clean it for her. But would pointing it out make Yue Qi cognizant of her position? Of the decade of pain she had gone through, because Shen Jiu had failed to find her quickly enough?

Yue Qi had hunched over her lap. Her dark eyes, cast in the shadows of the afternoon rain, were lowered demurely to her lap, where her calloused, scarred hands were wringing against each other. Shen Jiu watched her catch at a scab on one of her dry-skinned knuckles, picking it with rough nails.

Even like this, she was beautiful, but Shen Jiu could not help but remember the smiling, reliable girl who used to bounce the littlest ones on her hip, protect Shen Jiu from the older children, and hold her tight each night beneath their thin blankets. The trembling woman trying to blend in with the her seat was nothing like that.

Shen Jiu reached beneath her own seat and pulled out a box. “You look cold, Qi-jie. I’ve brought a blanket for you.”

“Thank you, Xiao Jiu.” Her voice was as smooth as cream and as pleasing as a canary, yet quiet as a mouse.

Shen Jiu, feeling suddenly strangely catlike, drew herself to her feet and shook the folded blanket from the box. Then, careful not to startle her Qi-jie, she draped the thick cloth over her shoulders, like a bright red cloak.

Yue Qi caught the edges with her fingers and pulled it tighter. “Thank you.”

Silence reigned in the carriage after that. Shen Jiu, at a loss for words, chose instead to watch Yue Qi’s eyes slowly flutter shut as she drifted off to sleep.

So that she would not be uncomfortable, Shen Jiu stood, and positioned Yue Qi so that she was lying down on the seat, enveloped in her blanket like the filling in a bun. Only her face peeked out from one side, lying on a plush pillow. Shen Jiu leaned over her, and thought briefly about pressing a kiss to her forehead.

But, no. She couldn’t. Who knew what sorts of touch had been imposed upon Yue Qi? Why should she ever even be allowed to do something so intimate anymore? They weren’t children.

And she had lost that right when her perfectionism had cost her.

She needed to apologize later, for that. When Yue Qingyuan was awake, with a full belly, and comfortable clothing.

Shen Jiu listened to the rain, and shut her eyes as well. If she folded her cloak on her lap, she could pretend it was Yue Qi’s head instead.

When she had first arrived at Cang Qiong, she had been desperate. Half-feral, far too young. She had rushed up the stairs all by herself to beg to be let in, rather than risk failing the trials, and when the Sect Leader had seemed about to turn her down. Shen Jiu had bit her hand and refused to let go.

This had apparently been the right idea, because the Sect Leader had laughed, and pressed a finger to her pulse, and declared her a once-in-a-generation talent. Training had been arduous, and slow. Each day the impulse to simply rush to her Qi-jie took her. But each day she also remembered her own advice, to not be impulsive, and set her shoulders.

Patience, so she could become as powerful as possible. Someone who could protect and provide for Yue Qi. Someone powerful enough that the Qius were like ants beneath her boots.

Now she was the Sect Leader, and it had meant nothing at all.

There was… a wrath, in her. Something angry, something that cracked with heat. Something that her shizun had called unsuitable to be in a Sect Leader. She must act with the care that had been impressed upon her, keep that fire to mere coals, so that Yue Qi would not be burned.

And so Shen Jiu kept it close, and smoldering, and hid it behind elegant fans and in the clenching of her fist. She must stay away, stay reserved, stay perfect, so that nobody would ever notice the slave hiding in a Sect Leader’s dark clothes.

But watching Yue Qi sleep, all Shen Jiu wanted to do was to touch. She wanted to smooth away the dark bags of her eyes, and hold Yue Qi so close that she could never be taken away again.

These were things she was not allowed to do. Instead, she placed her hands in her lap, and kept them there.

Finally, they arrived at a local inn, selected in advance for its comfortable rooms. Shen Jiu woke Yue Qi with a soft whisper. Kneeling just beside her, she watched the long, delicate lashes flutter open. Watched those dark eyes, like a deep vat of honey, slowly lose the haze of sleep as they took in their surroundings. Then Yue Qi rose, stretching her neck and curling her back like a swan, and looked at Shen Jiu.

“Xiao Jiu.” Her smile was soft. Shen Jiu wiped her eye.

“We’ve made it to a place to sleep, Qi-jie.”

Shen Jiu held out her hand. An open palm, in invitation. This, Yue Qi could accept or refuse at her leisure.

Yue Qi placed her bony, warm hand in it. Shen Jiu pulled her to her feet, out from under the blanket. Together, with neither pulling away, they strode out of the carriage and into the cold, shielded from the rain by the black umbrella.

Shen Jiu ordered a hot bath and ferried Yue Qi into their room, which was large enough to fit two comfortable beds and a table. With the bathtub placed inside and a screen before it, there was even less area to maneuver. Shen Jiu, happy for the excuse to stick closer to Yue Qi, did not particularly mind it. She settled Yue Qi down atop a plush cushion to the side, and the two of them waited quietly until the bath was filled.

For a moment, neither said anything. Shen Jiu continued her long study of Yue Qi’s features; the long bridge of her nose, the elegant curve of a gaunt cheek, the sheen of her brittle hair. She wanted to curl her fingers in it, to pull Yue Qi close. Instead, she turned away.

“The bath is ready. You should clean yourself.”

She did not see whatever expression Yue Qingyuan made. “If Xiao Jiu insists.”

“Why would I not?”

Yue Qi strode over to the steaming tub, dipping in a finger. “It is... warmer, than I am used to.”

“You deserve warmth.”

“The soap is too nice.”

“You deserve things that are nice.”

“I will be--” Yue Qi cut herself off. “I will clean myself. What will you do? Surely, you will also need to be clean.”

“I can bathe at another time, Qi-jie. Someone has to buy you some nice clothes, now that she knows your size.” Shen Jiu wanted to reach out and pinch Yue Qi’s cheek. She did not.

“Oh...” Yue Qi looked down at her dirty skirts. “Xiao Jiu doesn’t have to do such a thing.”

“Xiao Jiu wants to do such a thing,” Shen Jiu cooed. “Xiao Jiu is going to burn the clothes that Madame Bai gave her Qi-jie, because her Qi-jie deserves better.”

Yue Qi blinked. “Ah. Alright...”

And with that, Yue Qi stepped behind the screen. Shen Jiu could only see her wain silhouette through its decorative paper, in the moments before she stepped into the bath. Hers was a spindly thing, a too-thin frame hidden moments later by hair falling in a curtain.

A thought occurred: what if her Qi-jie slipped in the bath, and drowned? What if she hit her head, and forgot where she was, and ran away? What if Madame Bai chased her here, and took her once more?

If Shen Jiu was very quiet, perhaps Yue Qi would not notice that she had not gone.

“Xiao Jiu?” Yue Qi asked. “Are you still there?”

Shen Jiu shut her eyes, and worked her clenched fingers away from her palms. “I am, Qi-jie.”

“Would you...”

Silence. Would she what? What did her Qi-jie desire?

“What is it that you want? Ask anything of me, and I’ll procure it for you.”

“Would you please join me... for dinner, later?” Yue Qi let out a strange little sigh.

Shen Jiu blinked. “Of course, Qi-jie. I’ll find us something good to eat. I trust you’ll be safe, bathing on your own?”

“I’m an expert in bathing,” Yue Qi said, which was concerning. “I will be just fine.”

Ah, of course. She had been on her own for years, after all. The thought constricted something in Shen Jiu’s chest. “I’m off, Qi-jie,” said Shen Jiu, collecting the old garments on her way out. She just barely managed to tear herself from the room.

“Come back soon, Xiao Jiu,” said her Qi-jie, in a voice that warbled.

Though the rain was thick and heavy, it was only mid-day, and the nearby market was alive with life and color. Beneath quickly lain tents sat tables heavy with products: fresh produce, soft pastries caked with nuts, bolts of fine silks. A noodle vendor, the steam a near-opaque white, brought into focus by the cold of the rain.

Shen Jiu came to the silks and ran her fingers across them. Were they soft enough for her Qi-jie? Here a dark blue, embroidered with white flowers. There a gold with pink blooms. White, with green bamboo. A plain, soft silk in a sweet pink. She imagined how each might layer upon Yue Qi’s body, how each might drape and look upon her skin.

Shen Jiu looked up at the vendor, an old woman with white, curling hair. “Auntie, where, and how quickly, could a custom garment be made?”

The old woman cocked her head. “Here, and within the day if you pay enough. Do you have the size?”

Shen Jiu pulled out Yue Qingyuan’s ratty, old clothing. “These are too tight in the bust, but are otherwise about the proper size.”

The old woman raised an eyebrow, but took the clothing in her hands, and examined their stitching. “These are old robes. Patchwork things; they’ve been added to and taken out as she grows.”

Shen Jiu nodded. “Please-- a set of undergarments in the plain pink, and one set of outer robes in...”

She looked down at the colors again. Blue or gold or white? There was also a silvery black, nearly Qiong Ding’s colors, and the thought of dressing Yue Qi up in those garments made Shen Jiu bite her lip. She furrowed her brows.

“... all of them. Four sets of outer robes, please. And can you line a black cloak with fur?”

“Madame,” said the old lady, “if you want to purchase a cloak, you ought to visit the uncle down the street. My daughters and I can sew you these garments within the day, but it is going to cost you quite a bit.”

Shen Jiu pulled her heavy money pouch from her storage ring. “I am willing to pay.”

“A pleasure to do business with you, then.”

Shen Jiu’s shopping continued hours past what she had initially meant. First, she had purchased the warmest cloak money could buy-- a shimmering, black thing, lined with the soft fur of a monster that she’d had to go and kill herself, because none of the options in the little shop were good enough.

Then she had flitted across the market, purchasing every bit of jewelry that she thought might grace Yue Qi’s visage. A set of pearl earrings, and pearl bracelets, and a pearl necklace. And the same with bright, red coral. And jade in gentle green and mutton-fat white. And sea-glass, in a soft, shimmering blue. And long chains of curled, shimmering, fantastic metals, the sort that had protective charms etched upon them.

A pair of sturdy, elegant shoes.

When she finally returned to the inn, qiankun pouches full, a container of those steaming noodles in one hand, the sun had lowered in the sky. She entered the room to the sight of Yue Qi, wrapped in nothing but a blanket, torn from the bed. Cold bath long abandoned. By now, her hair had dried, and she had not bothered anything more than what seemed to be a cursory brush.

“Qi-jie,” Shen Jiu breathed. She set the noodles aside on the table. “I... left you waiting.”

Yue Qi blinked, looking up from... whatever it was she had been doing. And she smiled, a soft thing. “I do not mind.”

The thing she had been worrying between her fingers fluttered to her knee; a string of red thread, probably pulled from a fraying corner of the blanket. Shen Jiu stepped forward. “I bought you clothes, Qi-jie. And dinner.”

Yue Qi nodded. “Then I ought to get dressed.”

She stood wordlessly. The blanket fell away, revealing a body that was entirely nude. It had a sharp ribcage, a stomach that was too tiny. Right. Shen Jiu had taken her only clothing.

Cursing herself, Shen Jiu reached into one of the pouches and pulled out the undergarments. These were a small set of pants and a simple top that tied in the front. She cradled them a moment, folded neatly in her arms, then handed them over. Yue Qi stared at them, then up at Shen Jiu.

“Would Xiao Jiu please help me put them on?”

Shen Jiu nodded. The shirt was returned to her, and she held it open, so that her Qi-jie could step back into it.

Her Qi-jie pulled her hair to her front, out of the way, and turned. Shen Jiu saw it then.

The scars on Yue Qi’s back were so intricate, they resembled high-quality lacework. Tiny, reddish streaks, embroidered across her spine, curling beneath her shoulder blades, shivering down her back in horrible, twisted patterns. Streaks that crossed each other in stratigraphic layers. Years of them.

Your back, Shen Jiu almost said, but she did not. Why would Yue Qi want to be reminded of such a thing? In moments, her Qi-jie had slipped her arms into the shirt, and tied the string in the front. The strange vision of the years of punishment that Shen Jiu had failed to rescue her from were gone.

“Now that you’re comfortable,” Shen Jiu said, “why don’t we eat?”

At least she could care for her now. At least she could cradle her forever.

The two of them sat at the little table. Shen Jiu uncovered the noodles. They glistened with oil, their broth almost as deep as the color of Yue Qi’s eyes. Shen Jiu watched Yue Qi pick up her chopsticks and pause, hovering them just over the bowl. She blinked, slowly. Through the wedding veil of steam, Shen Jiu could just barely make out red about her eyes and the smallest dab of crystal in one corner.

“Qi-jie?” Shen Jiu asked. Perhaps noodles had been too presumptuous. Perhaps they had been a bad idea. Perhaps they reminded her of something bad. Perhaps Yue Qi felt as though Shen Jiu was just another Madame Bai, deciding things for her, taking away her autonomy.

“I-” Yue Qi said. “Thank you.”

She dipped her chopsticks into the broth, pulled out a clump of noodles, and shoved them between her teeth with gusto. Shen Jiu watched, motionless, unable to tear her eyes from the sight. For a time, the only sound in the room was Yue Qi’s slurping. Her thick brows were furrowed, her eyes scrunching up. Tears dripped down rosy cheeks.

Shen Jiu wished she could reach through the veil of steam and wipe one away. But to do so would be to impose touch.

After a moment, Yue Qi stopped. “Xiao Jiu,” she sniffled. “Your noodles are going to get cold. H-here. They’re very tasty.”

Pulling out a cluster of noodles, she held them through the swirling steam, above Shen Jiu’s bowl.

“Qi-jie?”

“You should eat too. Say ‘ah.’”

Fuck. When Yue Qi’s brows were furrowed like that, when her eyes were wide and teary, and her cheeks were dewey, and her mouth was curled like a bow pulled taught, and her hands were poised so gently, how could Shen Jiu refuse?

She opened her mouth.

The noodles were not the best that Shen Jiu had ever tasted, but they were warm.

Night came quickly after that. Before Shen Jiu knew it, the two of them were in their beds. Outside, the rain still poured. Shen Jiu imagined strolling through it with Yue Qi beneath the black umbrella, and lulled herself to sleep.

Halfway through the night, Shen Jiu awoke to the sound of a deep sigh, and then shuffling. A moment later, a small weight depressed the bed, and the warmth, as Yue Qi scurried beneath Shen Jiu’s blankets. Shen Jiu froze herself in the image of sleep, pliant as possible, as Yue Qingyuan arranged her close, so that Shen Jiu’s face was cushioned against her chest. Just like when they had been children.

Do not make a move, Shen Jiu thought to herself. Do not make a move, or she will remember what her previous masters did to her. Do not make a move, or she will remember how you failed her.

Shen Jiu glanced up, perhaps, to see her face. Yue Qi was looking down at her. Her brows were furrowed.

Shen Jiu had been caught staring. She closed her eyes, and willed herself not to move, not to give into the impulse to bury her face into Yue Qi’s chest. She could not take advantage. She would not take advantage.

But... Shen Jiu could not help but look up once more. Yue Qi blinked, and something behind her gaze seemed to crack. Just like that, she pulled her way out of the bed. Shen Jiu’s fingers twitched, sliding against the tie of her Qi-jie’s shirt, but could not bring herself to clench. And so Yue Qi slipped away, back to the other bed.

Shen Jiu had failed her Qi-jie’s test, somehow.

She did not sleep, that night. Instead, she slipped from her bed, lighting a single lamp for herself, and walked to the bathtub. The water within had not yet been cleaned out. Its inky depths stared up at her.

Shen Jiu dipped her hand in, and pressed it against her face. For just this moment, perhaps, she could pretend that she and her Qi-jie had bathed together.

In the morning, Shen Jiu stood, feeling rather awkward, over Yue Qi’s bed. There was travel to return to, but she was certain that Yue Qi had never slept in so long before, and did not wish to wake her.

Studying her Qi-jie’s face was becoming an art. There, over her brow, the scar of old acne. Her lips, chapped and bitten. Dry, flaking skin on her brown cheeks. A dusting of pink, as though an artist had patted a wet brush atop it. Thick brows mussed in all directions and furrowed-- was she having a nightmare? A strand of flyaway hair, curled against the shell of her ear. She seemed so alive; a being of pure light.

When her eyes finally fluttered open and fixed themselves on Shen Jiu, she could not help but feel like a worshiper at some goddess’ altar.

“What color would Qi-jie like to wear today?” Shen Jiu asked, pretending she had a reason to be just standing there.

Yue Qi yawned, sitting up. “Whatever Xiao Jiu thinks is best.”

“I’ve got blue, gold, white, and silver.” Shen Jiu reached for the spacial pouch.

“Whatever Xiao Jiu thinks is best.”

Shen Jiu snorted. “Xiao Jiu wants whatever Qi-jie thinks is best.”

“And that is?”

Raising her eyebrow, Shen Jiu lifted the pouch. “You tell me. You’re Qi-jie.”

Yue Qi frowned, pressing the pads of her fingers together. “What would look... the nicest?”

Shen Jiu stepped back a moment.

“We ought to dress you in black, today. Qiong Ding colors. That way, everyone will know that you belong.” To me, her mind added. You belong to me.

Yue Qi nodded. “I see.”

“Let me help you get dressed, in case the garments are overly complicated.”

They were not. In fact, Shen Jiu was certain that Yue Qi was familiar with even the most complex of garments; if not Madame Bai, then one of her previous masters had most certainly worn them. Yet, Yue Qi sat obediently while Shen Jiu slid the black jacket on her shoulders, and tied the shimmering skirt at her front.

She pulled out the new pair of slippers, and knelt before Yue Qi.

“Your foot, please.”

Yue Qi’s face flushed a delicate, rosy pink at the sight. She furrowed her brows. “I couldn’t allow Xiao Jiu to so debase herself.”

“It isn’t,” Shen Jiu pressed. “Hold out your foot, and let us see if the slipper fits.”

Pointing her toe, Yue Qi extended her foot, and allowed Shen Jiu to slide the dainty slipper upon it. Then the other. Then Yue Qi stood up, and Shen Jiu with her.

“Now your cloak,” Shen Jiu prompted, “and then we will find breakfast.” She draped the new, warm, fur-lined coat over Yue Qi’s shoulders. Her Qi-jie stared back at her as she had the entire morning, unblinking, her eyes rimmed with redness. Shen Jiu flushed under the gaze, brushing off the strangeness of it by pretending to adjust and readjust Yue Qi’s cloak.

“There’s some dust on it,” Shen Jiu lied, wiping the place just over Yue Qi’s heart with her hand, so she could feel the patter of it. Like gentle rain, she thought. “Your Xiao Jiu should have looked for better craftsmanship.”

Yue Qi looked down at her with a strange expression. “That Xiao Jiu found something at all is... lovely.” Her hands clasped together at her front. In the black clothing, she looked ghostly and ephemeral, her pale, sickly skin stark against the shimmering darkness. In the fur cloak she looked delicate and soft. And so, so, so beautiful.

Something deep in Shen Jiu’s heart warmed at the sight. It was as though through the process of finding the proper clothing, having it made, purchasing it with her formidable funds, and delivering it to Yue Qi, she had proved herself a worthy patron. As though through the act of embellishing and covering her skin with soft and beautiful things she had made Yue Qi comfortable and happy. With Shen Jiu she could be cared for. With Shen Jiu, she would be safe.

The thought of Yue Qi relying on her sparked a new, gentle warmth within herself. Her fingers twitched for a fan to cover the smile that was spreading, slowly but surely, over her face.

She would not hide from her Qi-jie, though.

“You look lovely, Qi-jie.”

Yue Qi looked down at herself. “I do?”

“You do. Now, let us get you to the sect. There’s a single day left of travel, after all.”

The next carriage ride passed by in a comfortable, rainy silence. Yue Qi sat beside her, rather than across, this time. The gentle touch of their thighs, unintended as it was, calmed her. Yue Qi would not be floating away anytime soon. Shen Jiu had caught her. Shen Jiu would weigh her down with jewelry and cloaks and dresses and so she would not fly away.

When they finally reached Cang Qiong, it was dark and rainy once more. There was no welcoming party, for Shen Jiu had not wished to overwhelm her Qi-jie. Instead, they stepped out of the carriage, back into the rain.

As they began the long walk up to Cang Qiong, however, the clouds began to part. The leaves on every tree, already flushing a vibrant green, unfurled to catch the dappled light that danced through the raindrops. As the sun cast its light over the peaks, Shen Jiu turned instead to look at her Qi-jie.

She was looking up at the sunlight, the stone steps, the ancient peaks, with what Shen Jiu hoped was wonder. The sunshower’s light reflected, iridescent, on her dark eyes. Then she turned, and faced Shen Jiu.

“This is where Xiao Jiu lives?”

“This is where Qi-jie lives now, too.”

At that, Yue Qi smiled.

She looked like a fairy, Shen Jiu thought.

As they strolled, Yue Qi’s fingers brushed for just a moment against Shen Jiu’s own.

Shen Jiu, horrible and greedy as she was, closed her eyes just a moment, to commit the feeling to memory. She must savor every little gentle touch, every little instance of Yue Qi brushing against her. She must do this forever.

Chapter Text

Yue Qi’s new room was positioned to the side of Shen Jiu’s. To one side, a large bed sat, draped in heavy blankets. To another, there was a small, wooden desk, and a shining mirror, and a heavy chest that lay empty. Shen Jiu had led her here, her head bowed, her palms pressed together, and proceeded to fuss over putting Yue Qi’s things in order.

It was the biggest room that Yue Qi had ever had. It was the only room that Yue Qi had ever had.

She thought, a little forlornly, that sharing Shen Jiu’s bed would have been much nicer. But the woman’s odd gaze the night prior flashed into her head like the sparks before a flame. Shen Jiu would not want her there. Perhaps she was too dirty, Yue Qi thought. She vowed to bathe again when she could.

“How is it?” Shen Jiu asked, her voice just a little shaky. “I’ve kept this room just for you. It’s yours, and so is everything inside.”

If only she could simply exist amongst Shen Jiu’s things instead. What was Yue Qi supposed to do with a mirror? It wasn’t as though she was beautiful. And she had no jewelry in which to drape herself. It was not difficult to pull her hair back each morning without one.

Perhaps, she thought, she might like for the door to yawn open in the night. This way, she could at least breathe the same air as Shen Jiu. But then she looked down at the plush, pearlescent bedding, and could not bring herself to ask for more. 

“It’s perfect, Xiao Jiu.”

Shen Jiu smiled; a reward in and of itself. “Then let’s get Qi-jie settled.”

Their first order of business was a visit to the doctor. Or, rather, Shen Jiu set Yue Qi down in a soft sitting room, atop an elegant couch covered in pillows, and forced a... Mu Qingfang, to come and visit her instead.

Doctor Mu was thin and had a fancy hat. He took Yue Qi’s wrist, and declared her malnourished, but otherwise healthy.

“She even has good potential to cultivate,” Mu Qingfang added, to which Shen Jiu smirked, crossing her arms.

“That’s my Qi-jie.”

Yue Qi looked down at her calloused fingers and her imperfect body, draped in finery as it now was, and wondered how on earth she was going to handle such a thing. But it seemed Shen Jiu was determined.

“Does Qi-jie want a tour of the peak?” Shen Jiu asked, after Mu Qingfang left.

Yue Qi already felt entirely out of her depth from Shen Jiu’s home alone. It was sizable, and though she had cleaned many just like it, never before had she been sat in the main foyer like a guest of honor.

May I just stay here with Xiao Jiu, Yue Qi wanted to say. She kept the words behind her lips. “I would love whatever Xiao Jiu gives.”

Qiong Ding, at least, was very pretty. Shen Jiu lead Yue Qi around its deep, misty woods, picturesque gardens, and to a little pond lined with reeds. Fancy looking cultivators, the majority of whom were apparently disciples, wandered about its campus. As she and Shen Jiu strolled past, their gazes gravitated close.

Yue Qi glanced down at herself and wondered if she was up to their standards. 

Shen Jiu took her to a dining hall next; her disciples were eating congee from small bowls. After that came a library full of books that Yue Qi could not read, a decorative pagoda, and finally, the yawning mouth of a cave.

“These are the Ling Xi caves,” Shen Jiu said. “They are a place for cultivation. You mustn’t go here unless I am with you.”

Yue Qi nodded, determined to obey.

Their walk was interrupted by no one, but by the time they returned to Shen Jiu’s home, the sky now turning a hazy gold, Yue Qi felt as though she had met a thousand people. And all had stared at her. 

Shen Jiu settled Yue Qi on a soft chair. “I’ll order us dinner,” she said. “And I’ll be only a moment.”

Her Xiao Jiu returned so quickly that it felt she’d barely been gone. But whatever food was supposed to come was delayed and delayed and delayed. She watched her Xiao Jiu tap her toe like she had as a child, her face growing adorably cross.

“They should be here by now!” Shen Jiu said. “Honestly, what’s taking them?”

“Perhaps they have received many orders?” Yue Qi suggested. 

Finally, after some time, there was a knock at the door. Shen Jiu opened it and allowed in a black-clad disciple, who bowed first to Shen Jiu, then stared at Yue Qi.

Shen Jiu took her fan, pressed it against the back of the disciple’s head, and pushed her into a bow. “Show respect to your shige. She’ll be living with me from now on.”

The disciple glanced up from her bow, cheeks dusted with a fine pink. “Yes, shizun.”

“Now, have you brought what I asked?”

The disciple nodded, lifting a tray in her hands, lined with covered dishes.

Madame Bai had often told Yue Qi about the great sects, how they sprawled like cities, the very walls gleaming with gold. Powerful cultivators, she had preached, would be attended by throngs of servants, who would see to their every need. 

Yue Qi, she had said once, fanning herself lazily, was not even good enough to be one of those servants.

Instead, it seemed it was the disciples who did the chores. Yue Qi watched as Shen Jiu’s disciple laid the dishes out on the table before them. Every so often her intent gaze flicked to Yue Qi, then to Shen Jiu.

“Thank you,” Shen Jiu said, when all was done. “You may go.”She then turned to Yue Qi, her lips pressed together in the same sort of frustration once reserved for those days on the street when they made nothing. “Apologies for the delay. Please eat.”

With that, she lifted the cover of the bowls to reveal a small feast. A light chicken soup with goji berries, attended by a plate of fluffy mantou. Finally, right before Yue Qi, a bowl of silky congee, topped with pickled vegetables and a fried egg.

Yue Qi felt that unfamiliar sting in her cheeks that she now knew signaled tears (it had been so long, she had forgotten the feeling) and forced herself to smile so that they would not fall.

“It looks delicious, Xiao Jiu,” she said. 

Determined not to cry as she had done the night previous, she lifted her bowl and placed a spoonful in her mouth. The flavor pricked tears at the corners of her eyes. Shen Jiu looked at her, but how could Yue Qi even explain? 

Since the beginning of her slavery, she had eaten almost nothing but watery porridge, rotting scraps, and the occasional bit of broth. The Qius had not cared to outfit their slaves with good food. Her subsequent masters had done so only infrequently, and on those special occasions, Yue Qi had given her meals away to the little ones. Madame Bai had thought flavor, and indeed all pleasure, to ruin a slave’s work ethic. Why give them a taste of that which could never be theirs?

“Is everything to Qi-jie’s liking?” Shen Jiu asked. Her eyes narrowed. “Is Qi-jie okay? It isn’t spicy, is it? It wasn’t supposed to be intensely seasoned.”

“It’s very tasty,” Yue Qi said, spooning more into her mouth. Tears pricked at her cheeks. Despite her efforts, for the second time in years, she began to cry.

Later, for the second night in a bed far plumper and softer and larger than she had ever known, Yue Qi tossed and turned and could not sleep. 

There was a light under the door. Yue Qi shuffled to it and peered through the crack.

There, at her table, a candle burning beside her, was her Xiao Jiu. The dim light broke through the shadowy darkness, casting her face in tones of grey and gold. She looked beautiful, the sharp outlines of her face softened and caressed by the flame.

She looked nothing like the child that Yue Qi had once known, and yet the furrow of her brow was the same, the downturned curl of her lip familiar. Yue Qi was filled with the urge to creep out there and offer a hug. 

But her Xiao Jiu was a fancy peak lord now. Surely she would not wish to be interrupted. 

Yue Qi shuffled back to her bed, slipped beneath the blankets, and shut her eyes. Sleep did not come; she slid out from the bed, taking only one blanket, and draped herself across the floor.

Sleep came, but errant.

Yue Qi woke with the dawn. She stretched herself up from her makeshift bed and dressed herself in one of the new outfits that Shen Jiu had bought for her. Pausing, she checked herself in the mirror and could not fathom the sight. 

She simply could not compare to the dark clothes that seemed to wear her, elegant and shimmering in the low light of morning. Still, they had been a gift, and they were softer than anything she had worn before.

At breakfast, Shen Jiu asked: “what would Qi-jie like to do today?”

Yue Qi blinked at her. “What would Xiao Jiu like?”

Quirking a lip, Shen Jiu shook her head. “None of this. From now on, you decide what you do.”

Yue Qi stared at her. Then she glanced down at the food, and frowned. “I haven’t the slightest…”

“Of course,” Shen Jiu said, voice all gentle. “Why don’t we take it one day at a time, Qi-jie?” She paused. “Or one moment at a time. Would you like to see somewhere in Cang Qiong today, or learn to cultivate? We could also go into town, or you could simply rest here.”

Yue Qi pressed her lips together. She wished to rest.

Would Shen Jiu like that? Or would she want to push Yue Qi out into the world? Surely she would not wish to take care of Yue Qi forever; it was rather her job to care for her Xiao Jiu. Shen Jiu would surely grow irritated.

Yue Qi smiled. “I would like to learn to cultivate.”

At this, Shen Jiu’s face grew very soft.

When they had finished their food and a disciple had taken it, Shen Jiu took Yue Qi to the pagoda and settled her on a comfortable chair.

“Today, how about I teach you to meditate?”

Yue Qi nodded. And for the next few hours, Shen Jiu talked her through the basics of meditation. How to breathe. How to hold herself. How to feel for and eventually circulate her qi. Occasionally Shen Jiu would come near to adjust Yue Qi’s position, and her fingers would hover just above her skin, gesturing the directions that she ought to move.

When lunch came, it came with a mousy little man who began to beg for Shen Jiu’s attention. She could not skip such an important meeting between peak lords! And could she please come right away to answer a few urgent questions. He said all this in one breath, the very same one he had used to sprint up half the mountain, and then nearly collapsed on the ground.

Shen Jiu’s glare was very well hidden by the time he looked back. Yue Qi smiled. The angry little Xiao Jiu she had raised was still in there.

That same Xiao Jiu turned to Yue Qi with an apologetic expression. “Will Qi-jie be okay meditating here on her own?”

“May I return to the house?” Yue Qi asked.

Shen Jiu nodded, insisting on escorting Yue Qi there before she disappeared for her fancy meeting.

Then, Yue Qi stood alone in the parlor.

It was exactly how they had left it.

The room was plush but tasteful. Shelves stretched along  the walls, decorated with little trinkets. Tea sets, old books, delicate fans. They must have been worth a fortune.

Yue Qi walked up to one set that caught her eye. A set of porcelain teacups, bone-white, painted with blue petals. They were so translucent that they seemed to glow in the daylight. Unable to help herself, she slid her finger across the lip of one. Had her Xiao Jiu drunk from it? 

The thought made her burn, and she pulled away and cradled her hand.

Shen Jiu had insisted Yue Qi still eat lunch, and so the two of them had carried the food back to the house. Yue Qi sat at the table with it and ate.

Lunch today was a simple affair: more congee, topped with shredded chicken and mushrooms. Despite its simplicity the flavor burst onto her tongue, so great it seemed she might die of it. Yue Qi ate every bite and impulsively licked the bowl.

Then she was entirely alone.

When would her Xiao Jiu return? Yue Qi tried to meditate but her mind wandered to the great peak and to Shen Jiu and where she wandered upon it. Was she happy? Was she stressed? Would she smile when she found Yue Qi waiting for her?

She simply could not sit still.

Yue Qi found an old rag and began to dust. She wasn’t even certain if there was any dust to begin with, but dragging the cloth across the tables and windowsills and every little trinket settled her. It was good to move when she could not quite stay in her skin. There was nothing else to ground her.

She carefully dusted every little trinket, cradling it in her palms as she rubbed it with the dish rag. Slowly, she became aware of the invisible imprint of Shen Jiu’s fingers on every object. Fans and books and that beautiful tea set.

It still felt hot in her fingers, but she didn’t mind. Instead she brought the little teacup close to her chest and held it over her beating heart, imagining for a moment that it was Shen Jiu’s hand.

At that moment the door swung open. Startled, Yue Qi dropped the cup. She heard it shatter at her feet, her eyes drawing to Shen Jiu in the doorway.

“Xiao Jiu,” she said. Her heart began to pound. “Xiao Jiu I’m so sorry.” Kneeling, she grasped the little shards with trembling hands; porcelain impaled her pointer finger.

An elegant hand wrapped around her wrist. “Qi-jie, stop.”

“I can clean this up,” Yue Qi said. She couldn’t see anything but the remains of the cup on the floor, like splinters of bone. Madame Bai would beat her for this. Every master would beat her for this, all the way back to the Qius. “I’m so sorry.”

Shen Jiu pulled the shard from her finger. “Oh Qi-jie, you don’t have to worry. How did you know this was my least favorite tea set?” Pulling Yue Qi to her feet, she wrapped her hands around her waist and lifted her into the air. Spinning in a circle, she placed Yue Qi away from the shards.. “Let’s keep you away from those shards.”

“But I still broke it,” Yue Qi said.

Shen Jiu stared at her. Like a cat, she reached out and slapped the teapot off the shelf. It shattered on the floor.

“Would you look at that,” Shen Jiu said. “I broke one too.”

The room grew quiet. Shen Jiu grasped Yue Qi’s bleeding hand and ferried her to the sofa. 

“You’re bleeding,” she observed. 

“That’s okay,” Yue Qi said.

“I’ll fix it,” Shen Jiu said, and put it between her lips.

Yue Qi shivered. Something inside of her felt very strange and warm. She was a statue now, unable to move, unable to do anything but watch Shen Jiu’s red lips press around a pale finger, her dark eyes half-lidded in concentration, her brows furrowed. When she slid away, her lipstick left a red mark where the blood had once been.

Something occurred to Yue Qi then.

Shen Jiu was touching her. The same woman who had been so reserved since they had reunited, who had initiated barely any touches, had grabbed her multiple times just to test that she was okay. 

All Yue Qi had to do to keep touching her was to get hurt.

“Xiao Jiu?” Yue Qi asked impulsively.

“Yes, Qi-jie?”

“Could I learn to fight?”

Chapter Text

When Shen Jiu was in meetings, she thought about Yue Qi. When Shen Jiu was advising her disciples, she thought about Yue Qi. When Shen Jiu was meditating, she thought about Yue Qi. When Shen Jiu was speaking with the Peak Lords, she thought about Yue Qi.

None of this was anything new. Except now, Yue Qi was here. She was a physical presence; she had mass and form. And it was a form that always seemed to be in the corner of Shen Jiu’s gaze, even if Yue Qi had been left at home.

The urge to run to her at any point, to grab her and keep grabbing her and not let go, would spike in Shen Jiu any time she even thought of her. As though if she held her tight enough she might just absorb her, and then Yue Qi would not be able to go anywhere else except where Shen Jiu wished because they would be one thing.

Perhaps if she burned her own office down, she could spend the time waiting while repairs were made doting on her Qi-jie. Oh, but then Yue Qi might worry about her.

Shen Jiu sighed, tapping her fingers on her desk. Her brush hovered over a blank page; she was supposed to be writing a letter to Huan Hua Palace, but every time she pressed the brush on the page she wrote out the letters seven and nine without even thinking about it.

What was a poor, tired sect leader to do? For over a decade she had devoted herself to finding Yue Qi. Now Yue Qi was found, and Shen Jiu had to devote herself to work. Only the anticipation of their next meeting could motivate her now.

That afternoon she meditated with her Qi-jie, and began to instruct her in basic martial arts. First exercises in breathing, then in movement. Today she could not bring herself to place a sharp sword in Yue Qi’s hand; instead she walked her through her stance and forms with a wooden one, focusing on where each foot ought to be placed.

Yue Qi stumbled, her ankle twisting oddly on the training ground’s dirt. Perhaps it was uneven. As she stepped forward to catch her, Shen Jiu made a note to have the whole place fixed up.

Yue Qi was soft and warm and a physical thing in her hands. She was also far too light.

“Sorry, Xiao Jiu,” Yue Qi said. “I tripped a little.”

“Is your ankle okay?” Asked Shen Jiu, already dropping her knees to investigate, holding the bone gently in her fingers. It didn’t seem to be damaged, but she could not bring herself to release it either.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. “It hurts a little,” Yue Qi finally said, her voice a soft and wavering thing.

When the two of them had been small, Shen Jiu had occasionally scraped her knee or foot. She had tripped and ruined her palms. She had scuffed her skin with the brick she carried. Once, another child had hit her in the head, and blood had streamed down her face and over her eye.

Each wound had been painful until Yue Qi kissed it. Her Qi-jie was special like that. Every little ache and pain magically fluttered away.

If she kissed Yue Qi’s ankle, would the pain also disappear?

It was too much. She was already taking too many liberties, holding Yue Qi like this. Surely her Qi-jie abhorred the touch.

“Apologies,” she said, drawing herself to her feet. “Can we continue with the lesson?”

By the end of her first week with Yue Qi, it seemed that something was amiss.

Shen Jiu kept hearing whispers. She did not like them.

“Oh,” one disciple had said to another as Shen Jiu made her morning rounds, “there’s Shen-zhangmen.”

“I heard she captured a fairy,” whispered the other. “I heard she brought her in all cloaked and secretive and is hiding her away in her home so that nobody else can see her.”

Both girls then began to blush and giggle, their faces pink.

Irritation had not stopped Shen Jiu from hearing the whispers either as she had taught a class. Said a few boys in the back who were not as quiet as they thought they were: “did you hear? The Sect Leader has captured some sort of heavenly being!”

“A heavenly demon?” asked the younger in hushed whispers.

“No! Some angel, I think.”

Shen Jiu flicked her sword. “Are you speaking of anything important?”

They hushed up.

Strolling down the rainbow bridge, she overheard two disciples, giggling behind their sleeves, chittering like little mice. The first, from Xian Shu, said: “I hear Shen-zhangmen stole a fairy from the sky and plucked her wings from her back so she could never fly away.”

Unbidden, the image of an ethereal Qi-jie with her wings plucked from her back appeared in Shen Jiu’s mind. She would keep her somewhere soft forever.

“I wish she would do such a thing to me,” moaned the second disciple, a girl from Ku Xing Peak, whose ascetic clothing was apparently doing a poor job reminding her to remain that way.

“I would rather have the fairy,” whispered the Xian Shu disciple, and she glanced up for just a moment, her eyes widening as they met Shen Jiu’s gaze, her face turning whiter than a ghost’s.

Yue Qi was a delicate little fairy indeed. A precious fairy whom nobody was meant to be talking about. Shen Jiu thought of any random disciple laying their eyes upon her ethereal face and swallowed the taste of vinegar in her mouth.

The rumors were inescapable even from Peak Lords. It was Qi Qingqi who came up to her one day, when Shen Jiu was busy taking a walk, thinking about how nice Yue Qi looked in her new dresses.

“I heard from my disciples you’ve captured a fairy,” began Qi Qingqi in an amiable tone. “Any truth to the rumors?”

Shen Jiu flinched, her fist nearly cracking her hand in two. “When would I have time to find a fairy?”

“I have noticed an end to your long, personal trips out of the sect.”

Shen Jiu looked at her. Qi Qingqi’s dark eyes were open, sharp, but without an ounce of judgement. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she was no longer on the streets. She had no need to eat all the food she could before another child tried to steal it. Surely... surely she could swallow her jealousy and let the rest of the Peak Lords meet her Qi-jie. “I am not ready to speak of it yet, so you will have to wait.”

“My disciples have already written so much about you and this fairy,” sighed Qi Qingqi. “I’m disappointed! I wanted to get the scoop and hold it over their heads.”

“Too bad.”

Qi Qingqi laughed. “Well, I look forward to hearing it all.”

Frustration found Shen Jiu that evening (after a lovely dinner with her Qi-jie) at the town beneath Cang Qiong, walking a familiar path. Dressed in plainclothes, she was just another face wandering through the doors of the Red Warm Pavillion.

Her ladies recognized her immediately. In a few moments, a a giggling cluster of finely-painted ladies ferried Shen Jiu through the back door and up a staircase to private room.

Meng Shi greeted her first. “A-Jiu! How kind of you to visit!”

“Apologies for my absence,” Shen Jiu began. “Recently I have—“

It occurred to her then she had no true way of describing her Qi-jie. It did not matter, though, as Meng Shi’s face lit up. “Did you find her then? That white moonlight of yours?”

“White moonlight?” Shen Jiu asked.

“You have been in love with someone since the moment you first arrived here,” said Meng Shi, a knowing look on her sweet face. “Sighing and looking off into the distance. I know that look. I see it all the time.”

Shen Jiu let out a sigh. They were not wrong, and yet it was inappropriate for her to harbor such feelings. Poor Yue Qi had barely started her own life; it was a miracle she had come with Shen Jiu at all given how long she’d made her wait. Years and years.

Something must have shown on Shen Jiu’s face, because Meng Shi softened a little.

“Come A-Jiu, sit down! Jiao-mei has been practicing her dizi and would like to share.”

Wang Lingjiao, dressed as usual in an elaborate outfit, pouted coquettishly.

“I was going to surprise her!”

“You still have a chance,” Shen Jiu hummed. “You could be awful at the dizi.”

“Not as bad as I am at the pipa,” joked the third of Shen Jiu’s companions that evening, a gentle girl by the name of Ming Xue.

“Why don’t you play some?” Shen Jiu asked.

Ming Xue took her pipa from where she had lain it across her lap, and began to play. As the soft sound permeated the room, Shen Jiu allowed herself to unfurl, shedding the stress of being Sect Leader for just a moment. She allowed herself to shut her eyes, to fall into the quiet. Meng Shi sat beside her, and Shen Jiu allowed herself to rest her head on the older woman’s shoulder.

It was, she thought to herself, what she wished she might do with her Qi-jie. If only she had found her sooner. Then she would have been comfortable enough to cuddle with Shen Jiu, perhaps even to kiss her, or love her. For now, Meng Shi’s motherly fingers, carding through her hair, and the soft scent of incense, would have to do.

A little bit of activity in the room had Shen Jiu’s eyes fluttering open. Wang Lingjiao stood before her, hands behind her back, a mischievous look on her face.

“What have you got there?” Shen Jiu asked, in the voice she might use to scold a naughty disciple.

“I was wondering if jiejie might want to play with me today,” she said coquettishly. Out from behind her back she pulled a set of ropes. Not just any ropes, but the Good Ropes. The room immediately burst into giggling and chatter. The pipa music stalled for just a moment as Ming Xue laughed, then began again.

“She’s been complaining about you visiting less all week,” said Meng Shi.

Shen Jiu considered her options.

“Alright then,” she said. “Strip.”

“Jiejie will have to make me,” Wang Lingjiao teased.

Shen Jiu quirked an eyebrow. “Strip. You wanted this, didn’t you?”

As she took the ropes, Meng Shi slipped from her bed and retrieved her own pipa. Warm tones filled the room, supporting Ming Xue’s playing.

As she began to tie Wang Lingjiao up, ordering her into position with a steady voice, Shen Jiu thought again about asking to buy out their contracts. She had asked once about hiring them to work at Qiong Ding, but they had refused.

Then she thought about Yue Qi, choosing to go with her to Qiong Ding. Had her Qi-jie truly wanted to travel with Shen Jiu, or had she felt pressured? Had Shen Jiu truly done the right thing? What if Yue Qi wanted to leave her? She ought to let her go, and yet...

“Jiejie,” moaned Wang Lingjiao, kneeling on a plush pillow, “it’s a little tight.”

Shen Jiu hummed. “You wanted to be tied up, didn’t you? Now stay there and be a good girl.”

Wang Lingjiao sniffed. Shen Jiu, still holding the final length of rope like a leash, sat back on the bed and thought about Yue Qi.

If only she could hold her just like this. Then she would be so close, and Shen Jiu would never worry about someone coming to take her. It felt like half of Cang Qiong knew about her already, and any of them could come snatch her up. It wasn’t as though she was a fully fledged cultivator yet.

“Jiejie,” Wang Lingjiao pouted. “Pay attention to me!”

Shen Jiu’s gaze made its way to where the younger woman squirmed in her bindings. For some reason, the image of Yue Qi, kneeling and tied up just the same, bloomed in her mind. Shen Jiu shut her eyes, but she could not blot it out.

She could not love Yue Qi that way. Not when she had been so hurt for so long. Shen Jiu did not deserve to touch her, to be near her, to love her. She definitely did not deserve to tie her up. To clip her wings so she could never fly away.

Meng Shi’s pipa softened. “She’s in her own world. You know how she gets when she’s thinking.” She turned to Shen Jiu. “A-Jiu, what’s on your mind? Is it your white moonlight?”

Shen Jiu nodded. “I found her and brought her home. And I feel as though she’s mine, but I do not wish for the rest of Cang Qiong to even lay eyes upon her. But they must. I cannot covet her, or own her. If she wants to leave, I have to let her go.”

“Why not claim her some other way, then?” asked Wang Lingjiao. “I just know I would love it if jiejie draped me in jewelry so that no man would ever believe I was his.”

Shen Jiu glanced down at her. Wang Lingjiao pouted back up, begging with her eyes for a little attention and relief.

“I hope one day you find a woman who will buy you expensive things and pamper you every day,” said Shen Jiu, all soft, and she knelt down, and granted her some.

Later that evening, feeling settled and satisfied, Shen Jiu began to stroll back to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, passing through an evening market on the way.

It always made her feel a little better to see the Warm Red Pavillion, though she could not stop the small guilt from bubbling in her heart. She ought to go there just to sleep, to chat, to have tea. But Shen Jiu occasionally needed a little more. What would her Qi-jie think, to know that Shen Jiu was lecherous?

“Shen Qingqiu!”

At the call of her name, Shen Jiu glanced up and smiled. Liu Qingge descended from the sky on his sword, landing before her.

“What is it, Liu-shidi?” she asked, opening her fan. “I was just visiting the Warm Red Pavillion.”

Liu Qingge nodded along. “It is a good thing you check up on them, shijie. With the way men are...”

“I know all too well,” Shen Jiu said. “At the moment, they are safe. Were you just saying hello?”

“I was returning to the mountain from training and saw you, Zhangmen-shijie,” Liu Qingge told her.

“Thank you for greeting me,” Shen Jiu said. “Now, I have some errands to complete. Have a good evening, shidi.”

At that, Liu Qingge bowed and went on his way. It occurred to Shen Jiu then that he had yet to hear of her little fairy. She wondered what he might think of those rumors. She ought to panic, but he was quite straightforward. Surely he would simply ask her, and she would take the opportunity to declare to the whole sect that Yue Qi both existed and belonged to her.

Feeling rather selfish, she strolled the booths at the market, stopping whenever she saw fine robes or fine jewelry. She wished she might mark Yue Qi’s skin permanently, put a tattoo over her heart so that she might keep her. But she could not do that. Instead, she bought all the jewelry she could, in addition to those pieces that she had bought previously, and specially ordered a few more pieces.

Weighed down in that way, Yue Qi would never be able to fly away.

Upon returning to Qiong Ding, Shen Jiu found Yue Qi practicing with a sharp sword. She watched, half-entranced, as her Qi-jie danced through the motions that Shen Jiu had taught her. Moonlight poured down on the scene, turning the blade aglow in silver, ornamenting Yue Qi in an ethereal halo.

Her Qi-jie turned, and those dark eyes widened as they spied Shen Jiu watching. Immediately, she tripped, fumbled the blade, and drew a dark line of blood across her forearm. As though a ghost had overtaken her, Shen Jiu strode forward, grasped the arm far too tight in one hand.

“Who gave you a sharp weapon?” she asked, running her fingers over the wound. Yue Qi’s blood was warm and red. Shen Jiu tore a piece from her own sleeve and tied it over the cut.

“I found it,” said Yue Qi. “I thought I would surprise you.”

“You aren’t ready for a sharp weapon yet,” Shen Jiu said. “I gave you a wooden sword for a reason.”

“My apologies, Xiao Jiu,” Yue Qi whimpered.

Shen Jiu’s eyes widened. She was squeezing Yue Qi’s arm too tight, she was speaking to her too cruelly. Stepping back as though burned, she lowered her head.

“No, Qi-jie. I apologize. I told you I would keep you safe but I haven’t paid you enough attention.”

“It’s alright,” Yue Qi said. “It was my fault. And I’m used to getting hurt.” “You shouldn’t be,” Shen Jiu told her. “You should be used to being pampered. You should lie around all day doing nothing. You should only wear fine things.”

There were a thousand fine things weighing down Shen Jiu’s qiankun pouch this very moment.

Yue Qi’s gaze was entirely unreadable. But her lips curled into a little smile. “I’m here with Xiao Jiu. That’s all I need.”

Shen Jiu sighed. “Qi-jie, you ought to live for yourself.” Yue Qi nodded. “Whatever Xiao Jiu says.”

“You shouldn’t just do what I want you to do either,” Shen Jiu said.

“If that’s what Xiao Jiu wants,” repeated Yue Qi, with a smile.

Shen Jiu groaned. Reaching into her pouch, she pulled out a lovely pair of earrings. Silver filigree swirled in a birdcage around two iridescent pearls. Though Yue Qi would barely be able to make them out in the dark, she would still be able to see the reflection of the moon on them.

“These are for you,” Shen Jiu said, handing them to Yue Qi.

Yue Qi looked down at them. “Xiao Jiu... these are too nice.”

“Well, I bought them for you. You’re going to have to wear them, or else I’ll think you’re rejecting my gift.”

Yue Qi nodded. Her eyes, it seemed, were a little wet, and the moonlight made them glisten like jewels. “I’ll treasure them, Xiao Jiu.”

It was only in the middle of the night, reviewing a report from Shang Qinghua, that Shen Jiu remembered something very important.

Yue Qi’s ears were not pierced. Madame Bai would not have bothered with that.

Something like dread began to unfurl in her stomach. Standing, she strolled to Yue Qi’s door. There was, she realized, a light on underneath it. For once, panic overtook her desire to respect Yue Qi’s boundaries, and she slammed the door open.

Yue Qi looked up at her with wide, doelike eyes. The earrings that Shen Jiu had bought lay across her desk, unworn. Any panic that might have assuaged returned, however, when she saw the needle between Yue Qi’s fingers, clean but for a thread of blood that had dripped down from its tip.

“Qi-jie!” she cried, stalking through the room. “What did you do?”

Grasping Yue Qi by her face, she inspected both ears. A pair of delicate holes now framed her face. It seemed she had been quite meticulous in her piercing. Strangely, Shen Jiu found jealousy in her heart. It could have been her piercing those ears, laying claim she did not deserve to Yue Qi. The usual shame followed; why did she wish to be just like the old masters who had hurt her Qi-jie?

Yue Qi smiled with a strange sweetness. “I wanted to wear them so badly.” Even in the darkness, Shen Jiu could make out a dusting of pink on her face. They were quite close now, their lips nearly touching. Yue Qi’s breath was warm on Shen Jiu’s face. Their closeness made her heart race. It felt so nice to have her Qi-jie so close, her skin soft beneath Shen Jiu’s fingers.

For a moment she imagined kissing the wounds better, like Yue Qi had once done for her. But she did not wish to impose any longer. Instead she drew back, away from Yue Qi’s warmth. Away from the soft beating of her heart.

“I’ll find you something lighter to wear on your ears first,” said Shen Jiu. “Once your piercing is healed, then you can wear the earrings I got you.”

“Did I... upset you?” asked Yue Qi, in a voice softer than starlight.

“You could never upset me, Qi-jie,” said Shen Jiu. “But I hate seeing you hurt. Especially if it’s my fault.”

Chapter Text

Shen Jiu arrived with the rising sun and placed a tiny set of earrings on the table.

Yue Qi blinked up at her. “Xiao Jiu, I don’t know how to put them on.”

This was an impulsive lie. Yue Qi had plenty of practice slipping these onto Madame Bai. But Shen Jiu did not question it. With steady hands, she took one earring from the table and leaned forward so their faces were close. Cradling the lobe of Yue Qi’s ear, she slid the earring into its place, and then repeated the motion with the other. Yue Qi did not allow herself to breathe. If she closed her eyes she would miss the sight of Shen Jiu’s, sharp and intense.

When Shen Jiu stepped back, the press of her fingers echoed on Yue Qi’s ears, as though she had never stopped touching them.

Shen Jiu motioned to the mirror. “Qi-jie,” she murmured, “they look beautiful on you.”

Yue Qi looked at herself and grimaced. It was her Xiao Jiu, hovering beside her, who had such unearthly beauty. A mere mortal like Yue Qi had only a plain face, rough with blemishes and still pale and sickly.

“They are beautiful,” Yue Qi admitted, turning her face this way and that to see those silver gems sparkle.

She thought this would be the end of it. Surely Xiao Jiu had spent enough on her! But each day she woke up to some new gift. A silky garment that fit her perfectly, a decorative guan to adorn her hair, a new necklace weighing comfortably on her neck, a ring for every finger, a pretty pair of bracelets for her wrist. When she practiced on her own, sliding through the forms that Shen Jiu taught her, they glittered in the corners of her gaze.

Yue Qi really ought not to wear any jewelry while practicing. Yet when Shen Jiu was gone, off being sect leader for the day, she could not bring herself to remove them. They were a mark of her Xiao Jiu’s presence. A mark of her Xiao Jiu’s care. It filled her heart with warmth.

As the sun reached the middle of the sky, Yue Qi stopped to eat the snack Shen Jiu had left for her so kindly. The richness hurt her stomach just a little that day; a lowly thing like her did not deserve such food. But she would take anything Shen Jiu gave her.

As she sat on a stone near Shen Jiu’s training ground, eating a few dumplings, a shadow obscured her vision.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Yue Qi looked up. Standing above her was a wiry but muscular man, his clothing almost as white as the knuckles of his clenched fists.

“Yue Qi?” said Yue Qi.

“I don’t know who that is,” said the man. “Are you the fairy who bewitched the Sect Leader?” “Fairy?” asked Yue Qi. “I’m only a mortal!” “What are you doing here?” the man asked.

“Practicing with my sword?” Yue Qi said.

The cultivator sighed and drew close. Yue Qi swallowed down her nerves.

“Are you a disciple? What are you doing in Shen-zhangmen’s private training ground?”

Yue Qi blinked. This was a private place? “I was training.”

“You can train anywhere else on the Peak,” lectured the man. “This place is for the Sect Leader.”

Yue Qi nodded, half touched that her Xiao Jiu had given her access to her very special training ground so quickly. The other half of her could not stop looking at the man’s hand, resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

“My apologies,” said Yue Qi, bowing deeply. “This one will find some other place to train.”

But the man hummed, and watched her with his dark eyes. She could not tell what he was thinking; he had the air of wealth that came to someone like Madame Bai naturally, and yet no hint of her cruelty. “Follow me. Let’s fight.”

Yue Qi nodded, feeling stupid. Taking her practice sword from its place, she followed the man down a side path to the more public parts of the peak. It had been some time since she had traveled here.

In the middle of the day there were disciples rushing back and forth. Disciples practicing calligraphy. Disciples carrying books. Disciples flying about in the air. Disciples training with swords, their blades all unique, caught Yue Qi’s eye in the sunlight. All these elegant cultivators belonged here, but could she ever hope to catch up to them? Could she ever prove to Shen Jiu that she should stay by her side?

At some training yard or another, the man stopped. Around them, disciples were already turning their heads. Yue Qi closed her eyes and tried not to focus on their faces, but whispers still reached her ears.

Before her, the man frowned. “Are you really going to fight in all that jewelry?”

On the one hand, it would be very bad if Yue Qi broke any of her Xiao Jiu’s lovely gifts. On the other hand, she could not bare to part with a single one.

Fuck it. Yue Qi raised her fists.

When Shen Jiu made her way on her sword to Qiong Ding Peak after a morning of meetings, this is what she saw:

A large cluster of disciples crowded one of the training grounds, their chatter audible even from up high. In the center of this group, the white garments of Liu Qingge. Beside him, in the black training garment’s Shen Jiu had bought her, was Yue Qi. Though her face was untouched, exhaustion trailed down her brow in beads of sweat. Dust muddied her clothes; she was shambling to her feet.

“Lets go again,” she huffed.

Whatever response the man in white was going to give Yue Qi was overshadowed by a familiar voice, echoing across the training ground.

“Liu Qingge!”

So that was his name, Yue Qi thought, before a dark blur overtook her vision. Shen Jiu landed between her and Liu Qingge, her sword bright in the afternoon sun. Yue Qi shivered; she had never heard such fury in Shen Jiu’s voice. It was an anger that ought to have called to mind Madame Bai, or even the Qius, but instead reminded Yue Qi of the day they had been children and Yue Qi had nearly been trampled by a horse. There was worry there, she thought fondly.

Liu Qingge bowed. “Shijie.”

“What are you doing?” Hissed Shen Jiu. “How dare you– how could you even–”

It seemed she could not finish her sentence. Liu Qingge’s response was straightforward. “This one heard a rumor that the Sect Leader had been bewitched by a fairy, and found this disciple in your private grounds while investigating.” “Disciple?” Shen Jiu’s voice was so beautifully shrill. “This is not a disciple. This is–”

Her voice faltered. Shen Jiu turned back to Yue Qi, her eyes wide, as though uncertain of what to say. When she caught sight of Yue Qi, she did not bother to finish the sentence, instead wandering close and taking Yue Qi’s face in her hands.

“Did he hurt you too bad?” she asked.

Yue Qi swallowed. Shen Jiu’s hands were warm on her face. Did she realize she was getting them dirty with Yue Qi’s sweat? Did she realize how strange it made Yue Qi feel when those hands suddenly began to explore her body, pressing into the skin, examining for broken bones? When she found a bruise on Yue Qi’s stomach (this Liu Qingge fellow had kneed her quite hard, though he had not bothered to unsheathe his sword), Yue Qi’s answering grimace lit some fire behind Shen Jiu’s eyes.

She turned away. The loss of her hands was devastating.

“I,” Shen Jiu hissed to Liu Qingge, “will speak to you about this later.”

Shen Jiu’s warmth returned. A strong arm wrapped around Yue Qi’s waist, and suddenly she found herself lifted into the air. The two of them rose up and up and up, balanced on Shen Jiu’s sword. Yue Qi caught a glimpse of the ground and squealed, burying herself into Shen Jiu. Her Xiao Jiu did not protest at being held by such a sweaty, dirty thing, holding tight as she brought them back to the privacy of her quarters.

“I am having a bath drawn,” Shen Jiu announced when they reached the parlor, depositing Yue Qi on a sofa. “You are going to stay there.”

Yue Qi nodded.

“I mean it!” Shen Jiu hissed, stamping her foot. “You are in such big trouble! When I get back–” Her voice trailed off. This was probably because Yue Qi couldn’t help but giggle. “What?”

“You sound just like when we were small,” hummed Yue Qi, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “My Xiao Jiu pretended to be tough, but always worried.”

“Pretended?” Shen Jiu’s voice traveled up several pitches. “Pretended? I am a Sect Leader, Qi-jie! And you are–” She paused, one hand in the air. “You are having a bath and a lecture!”

With that she stomped out of the room. Just like when she was a child! Yue Qi smiled. She really did love her Xiao Jiu so much. Whatever that meant, these days.

A very harried disciple came in moments later with an empty tub, her head down. Watching as it was filled with bucket after bucket of hot water, it occurred to Yue Qi that she had spent decades drawing hot baths for other people. For the Lady Qiu, for Madame Bai, for master after master, and never for herself. Now here was a bath, steaming and inviting, and Shen Jiu beside it.

“I am going to look you over for wounds,” she sighed. “But I do not wish to impose.”

Yue Qi blinked. “Xiao Jiu may touch me as she likes.”

For some reason this turned Shen Jiu’s face very red. “I would not take advantage of you. But I wish to confirm for myself you are okay.”

As though approaching a startled horse, Shen Jiu came near and unfurled the belt of Yue Qi’s garment. Then her overcoat, and her underclothes, all with trembling fingers and a delicate touch. Hands trailed over every developing bruise, over the skin of her breasts and stomach and legs, over each rib.

“I worried he may break something,” Shen Jiu sniffed. “Liu Qingge is not a delicate fighter.”

Yue Qi thought a moment. “My... leg, does hurt quite a bit. Maybe you should check it.”

Her leg maybe ached a little from when Liu Qingge had knocked her down the first time. Nonetheless, though it’s bruising was a faint whisper, Shen Jiu knelt near Yue Qi’s naked leg and examined it.

Neither of them breathed.

Shen Jiu’s fingers slid over the skin of Yue Qi’s thigh and squeezed just a little bit.

“Hold still,” she murmured, quiet. Yue Qi held as still as she could, terrified if she moved even just a little bit, Shen Jiu would remember that Yue Qi was just a slave and flinch back in disgust.

Shen Jiu’s voice was gentle as it instructed Yue Qi in how to move. Her light touch breezed its way down Yue Qi’s legs, squeezing and pressing, turning her ankles this way and that. Her face was so close that her breath tickled Yue Qi’s skin.

“Xiao Jiu,” Yue Qi couldn’t help but whimper, and just like that, the spell shattered.

Shen Jiu stepped back, just a little too clipped, a little too distant. “You should bathe. You got all dusty.”

“My apologies, Xiao Jiu.”

Shen Jiu frowned. “None of that. It was that Liu Qingge who’s at fault for this. When I see him later, we are having words.”

“I agreed to fight,” Yue Qi informed her, stepping into the tub.

“Why?”

“I was curious,” Yue Qi said, quietly leaving out the part where some injury had seemed inevitable to her. Her plan, it seemed, had worked perfectly. Shen Jiu had finally touched her! Guilt bubbled in her throat; she swallowed it into her uneasy stomach, digested it, internalized it. Here she was, some dirty thing, taking advantage of Shen Jiu’s kindness and care.

As Yue Qi lowered herself into the hot water, she glanced to Shen Jiu, wondering if she would leave. Her Xiao Jiu stood just a little ways away, an odd expression on her face.

“I’ll give you your privacy now,” she said. “Apologies for the imposition.”

At that, she turned. Before she could leave, Yue Qi gasped, reached out, but missed the hem of Shen Jiu’s sleeve as it whispered by.

Yue Qi had already selfishly imposed so much on her already. No matter how much she wished for her Xiao Jiu to stay, it wasn’t her place. Shen Jiu was immaculate. Yue Qi, no matter how often she might wash herself in such lovely water, was still nothing more than a slave.

Chapter Text

Shen Jiu lay in her bed, stared at the ceiling, and covered her face. She sat up, walked to her dresser, poured herself water from a pitcher, and splashed it in her own face. She pinched herself; nothing worked.

Finally, with a sigh, she wandered back to the parlor and settled at her desk with a candle and some paperwork.

She could not even work on that. The moment she blinked, Yue Qingyuan appeared in her gaze, naked and trembling beneath her fingers. A soft expression on her heavenly face, pink across those cheeks, bovine eyes watery.

The scars on her back visible and rough. Bruises peppering her skin. Dirt in her hair. Shen Jiu was going to kill Liu Qingge. She was going to—

A protruding ribcage. Cheeks too sallow. Not enough flesh beneath Shen Jiu’s fingers.

Yue Qi was, Shen Jiu thought to herself, far too skinny. Her Qi-jie ought to eat her fill and be plump. She made a note to herself to revisit Yue Qi’s diet with Mu Qingfang.

The night became morning. Another day passed; Shen Jiu spent it with Yue Qi, instructing her in sword forms, calligraphy, meditation. Watching her eat. Watching spoonful after spoonful of congee disappear into that mouth of hers. Watching her sip tea with trembling fingers, as though afraid she would break the porcelain once more. What would it take for her to be comfortable? What would it take for her to ask something of Shen Jiu? If she did not give her Qi-jie tasks every day, then she would probably try to clean again.

When she had assigned Yue Qi the repetitive task of copying characters (which would ensure she did not leave the house), Shen Jiu rose.

“I must speak to Liu Qingge now,” she said. “I will be back, Qi-jie!”

Yue Qi smiled the way she always had when they were small, all proud. Shen Jiu had a distinct memory of lobbing a stone at another child, looking back at Yue Qi, and seeing it.

Liu Qingge, when Shen Jiu found him, was working his way through sword forms. Slow and steady. Dark brows furrowed in concentration.

“Liu Qingge,” said Shen Jiu.

The War God of Bai Zhan Peak startled.

“Zhangmen-shijie,” he said, lowering his sword, and bowing.

“Liu Qingge,” Shen Jiu hissed, drawing her sword. “You’re dead.”

He looked a little too calm, Shen Jiu thought. Didn’t he realize she was going to kill him? She had uttered the words aloud, so he ought to take them seriously. Rolling her eyes, Shen Jiu swung at him. Liu Qingge lifted Cheng Luan, parrying Xiu Ya so that he could step to the side.

“You’re angry,” he said. “Why?”

“You—“ tried to take something of mine (a terrible thought; Yue Qi only belonged to herself) “—attacked Yue Qi.”

“I heard she was a fairy who bewitched you,” Liu Qingge explained, as though Shen Jiu would accept this answer a second time.

“She is not,” Shen Jiu answered, striking once more without care for if she hit him or not. Liu Qingge dodged. “She is someone very important, who I was not ready to introduce to the sect yet. And you hurt her!”

“We sparred,” Liu Qingge said. “That’s all. She was resilient.”

What a way to say stubborn. “She was on the ground.”

“She asked to spar again. What was I supposed to do, say no?” Liu Qingge asked.

“Yes!” Shen Jiu hissed.

Liu Qingge stopped dead in his tracks. It was by a hair’s breadth that Shen Jiu stopped herself from slicing through his skin. Stepping back, she sheathed Xiu Ya.

“What?” She cursed.

“Maybe you are bewitched, shijie,” he replied. “You don’t act like this.”

“Correction,” Shen Jiu sighed, crossing her arms. “You have never seen me act this way. That is because you have never seen Yue Qi, until now. She is very important.”

Liu Qingge cocked his head. “Is she powerful?”

“She’s mine,” Shen Jiu finally hissed, an admission that released an odd tension in her shoulders yet hung heavy in her gut. “That’s all you need to know.”

There was nothing for it, thought Shen Jiu, as she returned home. Yue Qi’s presence had been revealed. Shen Jiu would simply have to claim her. But how? It wasn’t as though she could leave a bite, tempting as the thought was.

There was always, she supposed, clothing. Jewelry. The gifts she had already been giving, but tailored now to call herself to mind. So everyone would know who Yue Qi belonged to, even if Shen Jiu could never say it aloud.

It was easy to change the direction of her path then, out to the town below once more. It was easy to stop by the fanciest clothiers she could find, to request a collection of garments for which she rattled off Yue Qingyuan’s exact measurements. Would Yue Qingyuan find it odd if Shen Jiu purchased her more jewelry? Perhaps she could pretend she had bought it for herself, but didn’t want it anymore.

When she returned to Yue Qi it was with far lighter pockets and an intense desire to see Yue Qi wear all she had commissioned. But she would have to wait. Clothing good enough for her Qi-jie would take time.

In the meantime, Shen Jiu focused her efforts on spoiling Yue Qi in other ways. Mu Qingfang finally agreed that Yue Qi could eat more, and so the meals being ferried into Shen Jiu’s parlor grew in size and scope. Every night she made certain there was something new for her Qi-jie to enjoy, and yet that every delicacy was as healthy and as filling as possible. Every morning she sat beside Yue Qi to watch her eat bowls of congee. The days grew lush with more lessons; swordcraft, reading, writing, cultivation. Shen Jiu found herself wondering why she should even return to Qiong Ding. She ought to just spend her time taking care of her Qi-jie. Let the peak lord of Qing Jing handle the sect!

But still she was needed. And still she dawdled in formally introducing Yue Qi to the sect, and rumor grew, slowly but surely, into greater and greater forms. The fight had not helped. Now everyone had grown convinced Shen Jiu not only was hiding a fairy, but had kidnapped her or tricked her or stolen her from her wealthy fiancé. Shen Jiu heard whisperings as she strolled through the sect that Yue Qi was a princess she had wooed, and she as hiding from the emperor.

It was becoming a problem as even Qiong Ding disciples were sneaking up to Shen Jiu’s windows trying to snatch a glimpse.

Shen Jiu would shutter them all and bar Yue Qi from spending time on the porch, but then she wouldn’t get to enjoy nature, which she deserved to see. Yue Qi deserved to see the whole world. She deserved to stroll amongst endless gardens, to listen to poets sing their songs, to eat every delicacy. As soon as Shen Jiu was ready.

They were sitting on the porch, sharing tea one afternoon and gazing out at the garden, when one such occurrence came to pass.

Just as Shen Jiu poured Yue Qi another cup, there was a rustling noise, and then the sound of furious whispering.

“We are not,” one was whispering, “supposed to be here.”

“Be quiet, Lan Zhan,” whispered the other. “Don’t you want to see? The head disciple said she was beautiful!”

Shen Jiu shut her eyes. Yue Qi wouldn’t like it if she yelled at disciples. Yelling at disciples would make her more like Madame Bai. She shouldn’t yell at disciples.

“Why don’t you come out of the bushes,” Shen Jiu finally said, though her teeth were gritted, “and ask her yourself?”

There was some amount of squealing from the eaves. Then two female disciples stepped out into the garden, one in the white robes of Qing Jing with a headband tied round her forehead, another in the black of Qiong Ding.

The Qiong Ding disciple stepped forward first. Her hair a mess, she bowed lazily and straightened with a smile. “So you’re the princess, then?”

Yue Qi frowned. Shen Jiu sighed. “Introduce yourselves to your shijie.”

“This one is called Wei Ying,” said the black-robed girl. “And the prissy one is Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan bowed very politely. Good girl.

Yue Qi smiled. It was a soft and kind thing. “It is lovely to meet you. My name is Yue Qi.”

“Wow,” said Wei Ying. “You’re so pretty, you really must be a princess.”

On this particular occasion, Yue Qi was dressed in a simple, pale ruqun, but silvery earrings dangled on either side of her face, a heavy necklace shining in the afternoon sun atop her chest. She looked to Shen Jiu as though she had just stepped out of a cloud of mist.

Torn between anger that these disciples had laid their eyes upon her Qi-jie and satisfaction that they had recognized her loveliness, Shen Jiu chose to sip her tea.

“Princess?” Yue Qi asked. “But I—“ she frowned, glancing down at herself. “Am I wearing too much?”

“Nonsense,” Shen Jiu told her. With that, she turned to the disciples. “Are you two satisfied with what you’ve seen?”

Wei Ying appeared about to interrupt, but Lan Zhan pushed her into a bow, and followed suit. “We are satisfied.”

“Good,” Shen Jiu said. “Now run laps around the peak until sunset, and speak of this to no one. Good day.”

“But—“ Wei Ying began, but Lan Zhan was already dragging her away.

Yue Qi watched them go. “Am I causing trouble, Xiao Jiu?”

“Nonsense,” said Shen Jiu. “Sects are always full of gossip. Soon they’ll move on to something else.”

Shen Jiu ought to have cut off those girls’ tongues. In the past month, the rumor had evolved. Now Shen Jiu was definitely harboring a fairy princess, who, depending on the telling, was fleeing her husband, or her father, or her suitors. Or Shen Jiu had won her over, and was hiding her from the sect, as she was too beautiful to even lay eyes on.

“That’s right,” Shen Jiu snapped one morning, as she was strolling down the mountain to pick up the new clothes she had commissioned. “None of you are worthy to even spy a glimpse of her. Now go back to your training. We’re a peak of cultivators, not gossipy fishwives.”

She should not have said this in front of the stair sweeper, but alas, it was too late to do anything about that. Continuing with her day, she collected the commissioned articles at the market, purchased another pair of earrings, and paused at a food stall to purchase tanghulu.

Yue Qi would love this, she thought. She would have to bring her to the town soon.

When she entered her parlor that evening, arms heavy with her gifts, it was to the sweet sound of Yue Qi humming. She appeared to be standing beside the low table, upon which appeared to be abandoned calligraphy. Instead she was stepping through the latest sword forms she had been taught, her hands otherwise empty. Shen Jiu paused in the doorway to watch Yue Qi dance around, her footsteps tender, her fingertips presented so elegantly. Did she know how beautiful she looked, in the light of sunset? How all the gold in the world had poured from the sky just to anoint her?

Shen Jiu wished suddenly to kiss her. The sense of shame that grew in her ribs after rose to her mouth like bile and left bitterness behind.

Yue Qi saw her then, and smiled. “Xiao Jiu!”

If she knew how Shen Jiu coveted her, would she still sound so happy? Or would she feel she had traded one master for another?

“Qi-jie,” Shen Jiu began, hoping no trace of her upset had reached her voice. But Yue Qi frowned. It was not an awful sight, but Shen Jiu missed the honey-warm smile. “I’ve brought you gifts from the town.”

The smile returned, softer, this time.

Shen Jiu bade Yue Qi sit, then presented first the tanghulu, then each item to her. What she had commissioned was a few ruquns, each in the rich shade of black the Qiong Ding disciples wore, embroidered in silver and white and green, their patterns intricate and varied. The cloth shimmered in the sunset; Shen Jiu, who had meant only to show them to Yue Qi, could not help herself.

“W-why don’t you put them on, Qi-jie?”

Yue Qi leaned forward. Brushing a trembling hand over the fabric, she nodded. “I will, but. I still don’t know a thing about wearing such fancy clothes. S-so, you’ll have to help me put them on, Xiao Jiu.”

Her cheeks were pink. Shen Jiu wanted, strangely, to pinch them.

“Of course, Qi-jie.” Shen Jiu replied, then realized what this meant.

Yue Qi was undressing. Right there in front of Shen Jiu.

Well of course they were both women, and Yue Qi had already bathed in front of Shen Jiu. It wasn’t as though they had many boundaries. Yet now the shimmery fabric of her garments slid from her shoulders; she folded each piece carefully and placed it to the side. One after another, until she was in her dudou, a garment as pink as her blush. Her gaze lilted to the side, as though she couldn’t quite bring herself to look at Shen Jiu, as though she were embarrassed.

She looked lovely.

The dudou, which had once fit perfectly, now strained as it stretched across her chest. As Shen Jiu brought out the first layer of Yue Qi’s new clothes, she noticed a new fullness in her Qi-jie’s face, a new heft to her breasts. She had gained a little weight. Good; she ought to gain more. Shen Jiu made a note to find her something delicious soon.

As she was dressed in layer upon layer, it occurred to Shen Jiu how close her hands were brushing to Yue Qi’s skin. It looked so soft; by accident, Shen Jiu’s fingers brushed the delicate skin of her Qi-jie’s thigh, and she had to bite her lip to keep from doing something she oughtn’t to.

After tying the skirt tight around Yue Qi’s chest, trying not to watch how her breasts quivered, Shen Jiu tucked her into the jacket. Turning away quickly, she hurried Yue Qi to the mirror to look at herself.

What a vision she was! Black hair all inky down her back was now complimented by a Qiong-Ding-black ruqun, its embroidery so delicate that it seemed to glimmer when Yue Qi fluttered the cloth. Shen Jiu noticed then that the artist had added embroidery in black thread as well, an entirely unnecessary addition that nonetheless suited Yue Qi perfectly.

She turned to look at Shen Jiu, and even without jewelry was so beautiful in that moment that the sect leader of Cang Qiong shivered, heart throbbing in her chest. She was going to do something terrible.

Instead, she reached into her little bag and produced the pearl earrings.

Coming close, Shen Jiu slid the previous pair from Yue Qi’s ears. She did so wordlessly, but Yue Qi did not protest, her red lips merely parting, her dark eyes watching. They were so close that Shen Jiu could feel the warmth of her breath, hear the fast patter of her heart. Was she afraid?

“There,” said Shen Jiu, when the pearl earrings dangled on either side of Yue Qi’s face. She ought to have stepped back to look. She could not give up a shred of closeness. “Now everyone will know.”

“Know what?” Yue Qi asked.

Shen Jiu nearly bit her tongue off. “That you belong... on Qiong Ding. And that you’re important. I don’t want you bullied again.”

“I learned a lot from Liu-ge,” said Yue Qi.

Shen Jiu swallowed her spite. “He’s your Liu-di. You rank higher than him.”

“But I only just entered the sect,” Yue Qi reminded her. “I think I rank lower than your youngest disciple.”

“But you’re–”

Mine. My Qi-jie. My heart. My love.

“–better than all of them.”

“I do not think I am,” said Yue Qi, wringing her hands together, tight enough that Shen Jiu worried she might scratch herself. Shen Jiu wanted to hold them dear, so if Yue Qi scratched anyone it would be her. But would Yue Qi like such an imposition?

“You are,” Shen Jiu said.

“I can barely read,” Yue Qi said, hands trembling. “I’m no good at fighting.”

Fuck it. Shen Jiu took Yue Qi’s hands, holding them close to her own heart.

“You’re important,” she declared.

Yue Qi frowned. “I’m a slave, Xiao Jiu. That’s all.”

Shen Jiu stared back at her. If only, Shen Jiu thought, she had been taken by the Qius instead. Yue Qi endured with patience and a smile. But Shen Jiu was full of rage. She would not have waited around; she would have found a way to fight her way back to Yue Qi as soon as she could. They could have run to Cang Qiong together, and left everything bad behind.

But Shen Jiu had not done that. She had let Yue Qi be taken, had been too careful and taken too long to get her back, and now Yue Qi was sad. Yue Qi was not allowed to be sad.

Shen Jiu held her hands close. If she was quick enough, could she bury Yue Qi in her heart and keep her there, where nobody else could see?

“You’re not a slave,” Shen Jiu reminded her. “You aren’t anymore. You never will be again. You’re here now. You’re with me.”