Qianyi's eyes blinked slowly as the sunlight filled the room, blurring her vision. It was the sanded wood and night-blooming jasmine that kissed her nostrils and convinced her to awaken. The air of her own room. Then she felt the impossibly soft embrace of silk sheets and the dull, throbbing ache that had taken root in every one of her bones.
Her memories flooded in: being drugged by her newlywed husband who had courted her for 100 years, being tortured and asked questions she hadn't the answers to, the cold of the pit, the searing pain, Yisha's whispered incantation, and the long, dark walk.
The last thing she remembered clearly was the warm, crimson glow of the lanterns on Forget-Sorrows Street. She had made it home. She had collapsed but somehow remembered hearing her mother's and another's voice.
She felt a weight on her hand. She tilted her head to see Yisha slumped on a cushion on the floor, fast asleep. Her head was pillowed on her arms on the mattress, her fingers still tightly laced with Qianyi's. Even in sleep, her sister's face was etched with worry and exhaustion.
Her gaze drifted further. In a high-backed chair near the door, the broad-shouldered frame of Li Wei, her mother's right hand, was silhouetted against the sun's light. He was asleep, his head tilted back against the chair, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that looked anything but restful. She vaguely remembered hearing his voice. He had been there all along.
Li Wei stirred, stretched his arms and yawned, his eyes squeezed shut, a shaft of morning light caught the waterfall of his hair—a brilliant white of a winter's first frost. When he opened his eyes, they connected with Qianyi's gaze.
He sat frozen, every line of his powerful, warrior's body locked in place. His arms high above his head, his mouth was still comically wide open, the yawn trapped in his throat. His usual cold grace had utterly shattered, leaving behind only a young man caught completely off guard.
Qianyi laughed, causing her to cough.
Yisha stirred. A long, thin sliver of drool stretched from her arm as she slowly raised her head.
"QianQian," she said, smiling groggily. Stretching her neck, Yisha noticed Li Wei's awkward pose. "I think you broke him. Can we keep him?"
Li Wei quickly composed himself, his icy cool demeanor returning. "Bì zuǐ!"
"Make me!"
"Then I suppose you don't want any Shuāng Mì Táng Sū. I was going to make a fresh batch this morning, but I just remembered, I have so much work to get done around the pavilion," Li Wei countered as he stood up.
Yisha feigned devastation and crawled over to Li Wei and tugged on the hem of his heavy yet soft black outer garment.
"Dàgē," she said pitifully. "The most powerful demon in the realm, after Mother. Your grace puts the winter moon to shame, your power chills the very sun! And no one can make Frost-Honey Crisp but you! You wouldn't really abandon me to suffer such pain, would you?"
"Brat," Li Wei and Qianyi said simultaneously.
"Fine," Li Wei caved, as if he weren't already to going. He pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped the remaining drool from Yisha's mouth, shaking his head. "I'll go prepare a batch. You two, rest."
As he slipped out, the room settled. The morning sun poured through the window, and in its generous light, the legendary beauty of the two young women was on full display.
Qianyi was the picture of classic, celestial elegance. Propped against a mountain of silk pillows, she seemed carved from moonstone and polished jade. Her skin was flawlessly pale, and it held a translucent, almost luminous quality, as if a soft light glowed from within.
Her face was a perfect oval, framed by a cascade of hair as dark and smooth as a midnight lake, flowing over her shoulders in a river of ink. The bruises were but temporary flaws on a priceless painting. Her eyes were shaped like willow leaves, slender and sharp, their single-lidded line sweeping gracefully towards her temples.
Beside her, Yisha was her radiant counterpart. Where Qianyi was cool serenity, Yisha was vibrant life. She had gone back to perch beside Qianyi on the bed, and the sunlight seemed to celebrate her, setting the rich, warm brown of her skin aglow, as if both sun and moon had agreed to dance upon its surface.
Her face was a constellation of charming features: high cheekbones that swept up toward eyes bright with mischief, and a full mouth made for laughter. The intricate micro-braids of her hair, now slightly mussed from sleep, cascaded around her shoulders.
There was a gentle knock on the door accompanied by soft murmurs. Just outside of Qianyi's bedroom door, a group of girls hovered, listening, waiting for the right moment to walk in.
"Do I hear three peonies blooming," Yisha joked.
The girls giggled.
Before Qianyi could welcome them in, the door slid open without a sound. Xuan Ling stood there, having approached quietly. She was an immovable mountain of serene power. The three dancers, Mei, Lan, and Ju, immediately fell silent.
Her gaze was fixed onto her two injured daughters in bed, and her three deadliest assassins gathered around them like fussing aunties. Her expression was unreadable, but the weight of her attention was absolute.
"Good," she said, her voice a low murmur that demanded silence. "You are all here. Now," she began, her eyes settling on Yisha and then Qianyi's bruised face and body, "from the beginning. Leave nothing out."
"Their clan is declining. I heard it when I went to get QianQian something to eat," Yisha began. "Shěn Míngxuān left her sitting there all night. So, I went to get her something to eat and saw Shěn Qíngcāng talking to some girl—he called her Líng'ér. He said he'd let her marry Shěn Míngxuān after he got the something from Qianyi. Something called Bǎoxǐ."
"Tiānmìng Bǎoxǐ," Xuan Ling asked. The concern on her face intensified to a rare, unmistakable alarm.
"Dui. Tiānmìng Bǎoxǐ. Then Shěn Míngxuān walks up to them, and he asks if they can just kill her and transfer it to Líng'ér. Shěn Qíngcāng said not to kill her yet because he had other plans. Shěn Míngxuān asked what they would tell you about us. And Shěn Qíngcāng said you were wealthy but still just a woman and they'd just say I got jealous and tried to attack Qianyi and was accidentally killed by a guard."
Mei, the eldest of the Three Peonies, sucked her teeth in disbelief and interjected, "That doesn't make any sense."
"I went back to tell Qianyi everything, but when I got to her room, they were carrying her, and she was barely conscious. Shěn Míngxuān told the guards to find me and kill me and that I was already poisoned so I should be easy to take down. I checked and, sure enough, my qi was suppressed. It must have been the incense."
Mei clenched her fist in anger. "I never liked him. He wasn't that handsome, and he was—"
Xuan Ling gave Mei a sharp look from the side of her eyes that commanded silence. Mei ceased speaking and put her head down.
"I followed them to a court behind the main manor, but it was heavily guarded, and I couldn't get close. But when I heard her scream, I—"
Yisha clenched her fist as her watery eyes unleashed a flood of tears. Qianyi put her hand on Yisha's and Xuan Ling gently placed her hand on top of theirs.
"Continue," Xuan Ling softly commanded.
"Even though I couldn't summon my qi, I still took half the guards. And when Shěn Míngxuān, I could have killed him I had my—"
"You did so well, ShaSha. You saved us."
Li Wei silently entered the room carrying a plate of Yisha's favorite snack he promised. "Zhǔrén, they're here. And they're making a scene."
"Shěn Míngxuān," Xuan Ling asked. "Who came with him?"
"He has a few guards waiting outside. But it's just him and his servant."
The line of Xuan Ling's mouth curved upward, not into a grin, but into the sleek, satisfied smile of a predator whose prey has just wandered into its den. Was a silent signal received and understood in an instant by Li Wei. His own stoic and the action of his lips echoed the same, terrifying amusement.
The air around him grew perceptibly colder, a subtle frost beginning to crystallize on the dark wood of the doorframe beside him.
"A'Wei," Xuan Ling's voice quietly called. "It's been quite a while since I've let you play. Would you like a new toy?"