That night, Mei could not lift her heavy mood. She tossed in bed. The day's events haunted her, deepening her grief. The blood debt she and her son owed was too vast to count. Only killing Weiting could honor the dead.
But revenge felt impossible. She pictured the enemy's fierce martial skills, his vast power. How could she face him? Despair sank into her. Her future felt hopeless, clouded by Weiting's power.
The morning's public parade troubled her for another reason. The officials falsely named the crime as incest. It fit the rumors about the Joyous Sect perfectly. Yet, the crowd's filth, their thick spit, felt like it struck her own face.
Because she, too, was a shameful woman. In her heart, she craved her son, longed for forbidden passion. A lustful mother, consumed by sin.
What she saw was incest's fate. A crime despised by all, cursed by gods and men. One slip, and she would fall into the deepest hell, tormented forever.
Her son's face at the mountain's base was heavy. He bought five pounds of strong liquor. At dinner, he drank without pause. Zhu was not a drinker. This wild drinking must have come from the parade's cruel sight.
No wonder he drank so much. Even Mei took extra cups. Now her head spun, the wine's fault.
Outside, the sky was black. The air hung wet, heavy. Distant rumbles warned of a storm. It would be a sleepless night.
Drip. Drip. Rain fell, tapping leaves. Soon, silver threads poured, striking the earth. Mei listened, her heart stirred. She recalled her early days as a wife, curled with her beloved, hearing rain on banana leaves. Emotions flooded her.
Boom. Boom. Thunder roared. Lightning flashed, lighting the room bright. In that glow, Mei saw a figure by her bed, silent.
Her heart raced. She reached for the sword under her pillow. But her body was soft, limbs powerless. When had she lost strength? Her throat made no sound.
An enemy?
The thought came as another flash lit the room. The man's face was handsome. It was her son, Zhu.
Mei's fear eased. She wanted to ask why he was there. But Zhu knelt before her bed. Thud. Thud. Thud. He struck his head to the floor three times, each blow heavy. When he stood, blood dripped from his forehead.
Now, Mei felt true panic. Her son's face held a strange look, one she did not know. His upper body was bare. His eyes burned red, grieved yet blazing. It was the look he had at the morning's execution, unyielding as he watched the torture.
She understood his intent. Before she could speak, Zhu stepped to her bedside. Silent, he untied her clothes.
Mei burned with shame, anger. Yet she had no strength. Then she realized, Zhu had drugged the wine, waited for it to work. This night was planned.
Her sleepwear was thin. He untied her waistband, unbuttoned her pale tunic, pulled it open. Her full body lay bare, white as a lamb.
For comfort, she wore no bellyband. Her high breasts stood like steamed buns, plump, tempting, tips pink.
Her pure body, seen only by her husband, now lay bare under her son's gaze. Her skin burned with shame. She tried to move, felt her inner strength, but could not use it. She lay helpless, heart pounding.
Jueren, I am sorry. Your wife cannot keep her purity. Our son has taken it , she thought.
Zhu's hands were clumsy, rough, but quick. He knew his goal. After baring her upper body, he did not linger. He moved lower, pulling her silk pants and undergarments to her ankles in one motion.
In dim light, her secret place gleamed. Soft hair framed a blush of red, delicate, alluring.
Her legs met cold air. Her near-naked body lay exposed. Mei's shame peaked. Her throat worked. "Zhu, do you know what you are doing?" she cried.
Before she finished, Zhu stuffed cloth in her mouth. She could say no more.
Silenced, Mei struggled. Her eyes blazed with shame, rage, fear, regret. She glared at her son, demanding answers.
"Mother, I am sorry. I have no choice," Zhu said. His voice was low, choked with tears.
"I know you blame me. But I cannot bear it. Seeing Acui today, she reminded me of Yue." His voice broke, he sobbed.
Mei had strained against her paralyzed body, desperate to resist. But Zhu's words about Yue pierced her heart, sapping all her strength.
Besides her husband, her daughter's death was a pain that tore her heart. Yue's loss left an ache so raw, Mei could not bear to think of it, as if her soul bled anew each time.
Beyond Zhu, Mei had a lovely daughter, Yue. She was bright, sweet, adored by all. Zhu cherished her, doted on her endlessly.
But two years ago, Yue vanished. The family searched wildly. The next day, a nameless challenge came, with two small fingers.
Jueren was furious. He went alone to face the foe, never returned. That night, his head hung from a station pillar. Before that, a small coffin was left at their gate, unnoticed in the night's chaos. Inside was Yue's broken body.
Acui's body, shown in the morning's parade, was covered in brutal wounds. Yue's body was worse. Deep cuts and missing flesh showed a torture beyond cruel. A man who checked dead bodies, used to grim sights, turned pale and vomited at the horror. Still, Zhu washed his sister's broken form. He dressed her in a clean robe. For two nights, he locked himself in his room. His loud cries of grief echoed, heard by half the household.
The Hongmen, allies of Jueren's martial clan, blamed the Joyous Sect, a group known for dark rituals. Some fiends there tortured young girls. The trail pointed to them.
But sorting Jueren's belongings, Mei found a hidden letter. It said if Jueren died suddenly, the killer was his third brother, Weiting. With the eldest brother gone, the fourth missing, no one in Hongmen could stop him. The letter urged Mei and her child to take a box holding clan secrets and flee.