As if in a dream, Mo Xi turned his head and saw a familiar figure.
Beneath the tung blossoms on Feiyao Terrace, under the moonlight, someone was quietly looking at him.
But that person was not Gu Mang—of course it could not be Gu Mang. Coming back to his senses, Mo Xi nearly laughed at himself inwardly. What was he even thinking?
The speaker was a gentle-featured man sitting in a wooden wheelchair, dressed in plain-colored winter robes, a pale lotus-colored blanket covering his crippled legs.
Mo Xi was slightly surprised. “Elder Qingxu?”
Elder Qingxu, Jiang Yexue. He was Yue Chenqing’s older brother.
Unlike the carefree fool Yue Chenqing, Jiang Yexue had lived a bitter life. His mother died early, and later he was cast out of the Yue family for insisting on marrying the daughter of a disgraced minister.
At the time, neither he nor that girl had much money. Their wedding was simple, and under the Yue family’s pressure, only a few people still attended—including Mo Xi and Gu Mang.
Mo Xi gifted them a small courtyard.
Gu Mang stared at the deed in shock, then said to Jiang Yexue, “Brother, I’m poor. I can’t afford to give something like this.”
Everyone burst into laughter. Puffing his cheeks, Gu Mang pulled out a suona and played Phoenix Seeking Phoenix for them.
But good times did not last.
Jiang Yexue and his wife both joined the army. War was merciless. First it took his wife, then it took both his legs.
Mo Xi did not know how this man had endured it all.
Fortunately, Jiang Yexue was gentle on the outside but resilient within. In the end, he regained his spirit and secured a position as an elder at the cultivation academy, teaching the art of weapon forging.
But this enraged his biological father.
The Yue family was Chonghua’s greatest weapon-forging family, and Yue Juntian demanded the cultivation academy dismiss Jiang Yexue.
“This rebellious son who was cast out of the Yue family doesn’t even bear our surname anymore. What right does he have to keep making a living off the Yue family’s skills?”
The academy master could not defy Yue Juntian and reluctantly dismissed Jiang Yexue.
Mo Xi saw all this and decided to arrange a position for him in the military bureau.
Unexpectedly, before he could even speak, the next day the academy master personally begged Jiang Yexue to return.
This time, no matter how much the Yue family protested, it was useless. The academy master only said he had acted under “the stern instruction of an old acquaintance.”
As for who that hidden benefactor was, it remained a mystery throughout Chonghua.
Jiang Yexue knew the Yue family and he could not stand each other. He had never attended banquets like this before.
That was why Mo Xi was so surprised to see him.
“What brings you here?”
“I…” Jiang Yexue said, “I came to see Chenqing.”
“…”
When Jiang Yexue left, Yue Chenqing had still been very young. Many things were blurred in his memory now, but as an older brother, Jiang Yexue had never been able to let him go.
Though Yue Chenqing did not acknowledge him, to be fair, he had never treated him harshly the way the rest of the Yue family did.
“I also wanted to see you.” Jiang Yexue paused, smiling. “I couldn’t spot you inside, so I thought perhaps it was too noisy for you to bear. I guessed you might be up here catching some air. Looks like I was right.”
“If you wanted to see me, you could have sent word. Why come out personally? Your legs can’t handle the cold. I’ll take you back.”
“It’s fine. They haven’t hurt in a long time.” Jiang Yexue said. “I came to thank you. Chenqing is immature. Thank you for taking care of him these past two years.”
Mo Xi fell silent for a moment.
“Your younger brother is young. Being playful isn’t necessarily bad. Besides, after two years away, he’s matured quite a bit.”
Jiang Yexue smiled gently.
“Really? He hasn’t caused you too much trouble?”
“…A little. But he helps more than he causes problems.”
Jiang Yexue sighed and nodded.
“That’s good. That’s good.”
Silence settled.
The wind stirred the tassels on Feiyao Terrace.
Suddenly Jiang Yexue said, “Lord Xihe, you’ve been away from the capital for a long time. I imagine there’s much that has happened here that you don’t know.”
He had always been intelligent, perceptive, and considerate.
“It’s too noisy inside, and I don’t feel like going back yet. If there’s anything you want to know, ask me.”
“…There’s nothing in particular.” Mo Xi turned to gaze at the moon over the imperial capital, stars scattered across ten thousand homes. “I have no family in this city.”
Jiang Yexue knew how awkward he could be. He only nodded.
After a while, Mo Xi cleared his throat.
“How have you been?”
Jiang Yexue smiled.
“I’m doing well.”
“His Majesty?”
“Everything has gone smoothly for him.”
“Princess Mengze?”
“She is safe.”
Mo Xi said, “…That’s good.”
Jiang Yexue’s eyes shifted with unreadable emotion.
“Anything else you want to know?”
“No.”
But after a while, Mo Xi drained the last of his wine and stared into the brilliant night.
Finally, he could not hold back.
“What about Gu Mang?… How is he?”
Jiang Yexue looked at him as if sighing, You circled around so much and finally asked about him.
“Naturally, he is not doing well.”
“…” Mo Xi fell silent, then gave a slight nod. His throat felt dry. “I thought as much.”
“If you’re willing, you should go see him. After staying in a place like that for so long… he has changed a great deal.”
Mo Xi froze.
For a moment, he did not understand.
“What place?”
Jiang Yexue had not expected that reaction.
His eyes widened slightly.
“You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
Jiang Yexue: “…”
Neither spoke.
Suddenly loud laughter erupted from the hall behind them. Through the lattice windows came overlapping shadows of drunken men and women.
Mo Xi suddenly realized.
His eyes widened.
“He wasn’t sent to—”
“…He’s been at Luomei Villa for two years…”
Jiang Yexue had not expected Yue Chenqing to have hidden something this important.
And now he himself had been the one to tell Mo Xi.
He felt uneasy.
Meanwhile, Mo Xi’s face instantly turned pale.
Luomei Villa…
What kind of place was that?
A brothel.
A place that could strip a person to the bone, devouring flesh and soul.
Gentle people entered and came out unrecognizable.
Fierce people entered and were shattered completely.
They sent him there?
They sent him… there…
Mo Xi’s throat bobbed.
The first time, no words came out.
Only on the second try did he manage to say, with difficulty:
“…Was it arranged by Lord Wangshu?”
Jiang Yexue paused, then sighed and nodded.
“You know Lord Wangshu hates him.”
Mo Xi fell silent.
Abruptly turning his head away, he stared into the vast night without another word.
—
Ever since Gu Mang had been escorted back to Chonghua two years ago, Mo Xi had imagined many possible fates for him.
At the time, he did not know what punishment awaited him.
He had thought that if Gu Mang were locked in the imperial prison, he might go see him, mock him coldly, and say a few cutting words.
If Gu Mang became a cripple, he would not pity him.
He might even make things harder for him.
Whatever softness had once existed between them had long since been buried beneath hatred.
The only scenario in which Mo Xi imagined himself calmly sharing a drink with Gu Mang was at a grave.
Gu Mang lying inside.
Mo Xi standing outside.
Perhaps he would speak to him the way he once had.
Perhaps he would place a bouquet of red peonies made of spiritual energy before the tombstone.
At least that would grant them one final parting without quarrel.
But Gu Mang had always excelled at bringing unexpected things into Mo Xi’s life.
Mo Xi had not expected even this to be the same.
Luomei Villa.
Those four words tormented him.
He turned them over and over in his mind, trying to squeeze even the tiniest shred of satisfaction from them.
But in the end, he found it futile.
There was no pleasure.
Only disgust.
Only fury.
He did not know where this disgust and fury came from.
Shouldn’t evil receiving evil be gratifying?
“…”
Mo Xi leaned on the carved railing.
He tried to flex his fingers, but they were numb.
When he turned to look at Jiang Yexue, the man’s features seemed strangely blurred.
His vision swam.
His stomach twisted.
Gu Mang had been sent to Luomei Villa.
For two years.
Mo Xi felt he should laugh wildly.
That would be right.
That would fit the hatred everyone believed existed between them.
So he forced his lips and teeth to move, trying to pry out some satisfaction.
But in the end only a cold sneer slipped through his teeth.
He suddenly saw flashes of memory.
The first meeting.
That clean, youthful face in the sunlight.
Dark eyes smiling at him.
“Hello, Junior Brother Mo.”
Then Gu Mang after joining the army.
Bright and lively among a crowd of rowdy companions.
Turning back to wink at him.
Long eyes lifting slightly at the corners, curving into a warm smile.
Then Gu Mang as commander—
Grinning shamelessly:
“Come on! Join the army today, strike it rich tomorrow!”
Roaring amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood:
“Come on! Move! If you’re not dead yet, get the hell up! I’m taking you home!”
And kneeling before the throne, begging His Majesty not to bury his soldiers in mass graves:
“I beg the healers to identify the bodies… Please. This isn’t meaningless. Every soldier deserves a grave with a name. Your Majesty, I don’t want any of my brothers to never make it home.”
“They chose me as their commander. Whether alive or dead, I must bring them home. I promised them.”
“What they want isn’t glory. They only want the name they should have had.”
And finally, his desperate outburst in the throne room—
“Do slaves deserve to die like dogs?! Do slaves not deserve burial?!”
“They bled just the same! They died just the same! No parents, no family—and now not even a name! Why is it that when Yue family, Mo family, or Murong family men die they’re heroes, but when my brothers die they’re dumped into a pit?! Why?!”
That was the first time Gu Mang cried in court.
He wasn’t kneeling.
He was curled up.
Hunched over.
Squatting as he cried.
Fresh from battle, blood still stained his body.
Soot blackened his face.
Tears cut streaks through the grime.
The war god who always symbolized hope on the battlefield had been beaten back into his lowly origins in the golden hall.
Like an unclaimed corpse.
The court officials stood in formal robes.
Many looked at the common-born general with disgust.
His clothes were ragged.
His body filthy.
He sobbed like a dying beast.
“I said I’d bring them home…”
“Please… let me keep my promise…”
But he must have known it was useless.
Eventually he stopped begging.
Stopped crying.
He only repeated, eyes nearly vacant, as if murmuring to wandering souls:
“I’m sorry. This is my fault. I don’t deserve to be your commander.”
“I’m just a slave too…”
As those words returned to him piece by piece, Mo Xi felt a splitting headache.
He pressed a hand to his forehead, hiding his face in shadow.
Cold.
Everything was cold.
Jiang Yexue said softly, “Lord Xihe… are you alright?”
No answer came.
After a long time, a voice drifted out from the darkness, emotionless.
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Jiang Yexue looked at him and sighed.
“How many years have we known each other? Why force yourself in front of me?”
Mo Xi: “…”
Wind rang the bronze bells under the eaves.
Golden tassels danced.
“You and Gu Mang were always mentioned together. You studied together at the cultivation academy. Went to war together. Were ennobled together.”
Jiang Yexue turned to look at him.
“Now you still stand high above, while he has fallen into the dust. The twin jewels of the kingdom—now only one remains. I don’t think that makes you happy.”
He paused.
“Besides… he was once your closest friend.”
Mo Xi lowered his thick lashes.
After a moment, he answered:
“…When I was young, I was blind.”
“But even after he betrayed the country, you still believed he had his reasons. You believed for a long time.”
“I was very blind.”
Mo Xi stared at the remaining wine in his cup, glowing with sunset colors.
He did not want to continue.
“The wind is picking up. Elder Qingxu, let’s return.”
—
In the days after learning Gu Mang’s whereabouts, Mo Xi grew increasingly agitated.
He tried to suppress emotions he should not have.
But as the days passed, his agitation only worsened.
Mo Xi knew he was sick at heart.
And only Luomei Villa held the medicine.
Finally, one evening at dusk, a carriage draped in dark gauze rolled toward the northern side of the capital.
Mo Xi sat inside with eyes closed.
Even alone behind curtains, his back remained perfectly straight.
His handsome face was expressionless.
Cold enough to inspire fear.
“My lord, we’ve arrived.”
Mo Xi did not immediately get out.
Instead, he lifted the curtain and glanced outside from the shadows.
The night market was at its busiest.
Across the street, two rows of extravagant cold-plum lanterns burned with spiritual power beneath a scarlet plaque.
Luomei Villa.
“Morning wind carries frost, pure as snow; by dusk, fallen into dust and mud.”
This place differed from ordinary brothels.
Many inside were prisoners of war captured by Chonghua.
Their spiritual cores destroyed.
Reduced to prisoners.
Bed slaves.
“My lord, will you go in?”
Mo Xi swept his gaze over the entrance.
He spotted several familiar faces—all spoiled young nobles he especially disliked.
He frowned.
“Back entrance.”
The carriage stopped behind Luomei Villa.
“You may leave. No need to wait.”
After dismissing the driver, Mo Xi surveyed the layout, then lightly pushed off the ground and landed on the roof.
Silent as a shadow, he slipped into the night.
Before coming, he had studied Luomei Villa’s layout, so finding the courtesans’ quarters was easy.
Soon he reached the side courtyard.
Throwing on a cloak, he entered through the front like any ordinary customer and passed rows of red lacquered doors.
“Saintess Sha Xuerou of Wanku Sacred Flame”
“Maid Qin Feng of Wanku Sacred Flame”
“Left Army Deputy General Tang Zhen of Liao Kingdom”
“Left Army Officer Lin Huarong of Blood Rain”
Each door bore a wooden plaque listing the captive’s homeland, former rank, and name.
Everything was clearly labeled.
That way, guests with grudges against enemy nations could choose the most fitting target for their cruelty.
If someone was inside, the plaque glowed red.
If not, the writing remained black.
In Luomei Villa, nobles were heaven.
As long as they were pleased, they could do anything.
The smiles, flattery, bodies of these men and women—
Even their lives—
All were theirs to take.
Mo Xi moved quickly through the corridors, robes fluttering.
The soundproofing here was poor.
The noises of lust inside each room were painfully clear.
His brows furrowed deeper.
His heartbeat quickened.
Where was Gu Mang?
He passed dozens of rooms.
No sign.
He went upstairs.
Still searching.
Finally, at a secluded corner, Mo Xi stopped.
A dark wooden plaque.
Thin, delicate handwriting.
Traitor of Chonghua — Gu Mang
The only plaque in the entire villa marked with the words Chonghua.
Mo Xi’s gaze fell heavily upon that small wooden plaque, as if weighed down by a thousand pounds.
For one brief instant, something ignited in his dark eyes.
A dim fire.
But the light quickly died.
He raised his hand.
His knuckles stopped an inch from the door.
Then he froze.
He suddenly realized—
The writing on Gu Mang’s plaque was red.
There was already a guest inside.