“Can I sit next to you?”
Mo Xi’s fingertips trembled, and he nearly spilled the wine in his glass.
As though in a dream, he turned his head, only to find that the person standing before him was not Gu Mang. Of course it wasn’t Gu Mang. Coming back to his senses, Mo Xi almost laughed at himself inwardly. What on earth had he been thinking?
The man who had spoken wore blue robes and had a thin, delicate face. Because he had difficulty walking, he sat in a wooden wheelchair, a plain winter cloak draped over his shoulders and a thin, pale-blue blanket covering his knees. Blossoms from the paulownia trees beside the terrace drifted down and settled on his blanket. He made no move to brush them away. When the wind blew the petals off, he made no attempt to catch them, either, as though nothing mattered to him one way or the other. There was something very faint and subdued about his temperament, though it was hard to say whether this came from his reserved nature, his frail constitution, or both.
Jiang Yexue.
Mo Xi immediately matched him to the person in his memories.
In the novel, this man was an old friend of his and Yue Chenqing’s elder brother. However, Jiang Yexue had insisted on marrying the daughter of a convicted official and had long since been expelled from the Yue family. He later secured a position as an elder instructor at the cultivation academy. He had once been an extraordinary figure of noble birth, yet now he lived in considerable poverty.
Yue Chenqing no longer acknowledged him, either.
Beneath the moonlight, a faint smile appeared on Jiang Yexue’s gaunt face.
“Lord Xihe.”
Mo Xi straightened and nodded. “Elder Qingxu.”
Jiang Yexue smiled. “It’s too noisy inside. I guessed you wouldn’t be able to stand it and would come out onto the terrace for some fresh air. Looks like I was right.”
Although they had known each other while studying at the cultivation academy in The Forbidden Book, this was, in a very real sense, the first time Mo Xi had met Jiang Yexue himself.
Mo Xi said, “If you wanted to see me, you could have sent someone with a message. Why come out here yourself? Your leg injury shouldn’t be exposed to the cold wind. Let me take you back inside.”
“It’s all right. It hasn’t hurt in a long time,” Jiang Yexue replied. “I came to thank you. Chenqing is young, playful, and rather immature. You’ve looked after him these past two years, and I’m grateful.”
When Jiang Yexue had been driven out of the family residence, Yue Chenqing was still very young. As he grew older, he claimed he could barely remember anything from his childhood. Their relationship now was rather tragic. Influenced by their father, Yue Chenqing had always looked down on this brother of his, whom he regarded as being as lowly and insignificant as a cicada or an ant. Yet Jiang Yexue, mindful of their brotherly bond, had continued to worry about him in silence.
Mo Xi was quiet for a moment before replying, “There’s nothing wrong with being a little playful at his age. Besides, he’s grown quite a bit over the past two years away from home.”
Jiang Yexue smiled gently. “Has he? Hasn’t he caused you any trouble?”
“…”
Thinking of Yue Chenqing’s outrageous behavior, Mo Xi felt a headache coming on. But looking at Jiang Yexue’s frail yet concerned expression, he found it difficult to say anything harsh. He merely replied, “Only a little. He’s been more helpful than troublesome.”
Jiang Yexue sighed and nodded. “Good. That’s good.”
After a brief silence, Jiang Yexue said, “Lord Xihe, you’ve been away from the capital for a long time. I imagine there are many things that have happened here that you don’t yet know about.”
He was a considerate man.
“It’s too noisy in the hall, and I don’t feel like going back just yet. If there’s anything you’d like to know, please feel free to ask me,” Jiang Yexue offered. “I’ll tell you everything I can.”
“…There’s nothing in particular I want to know.” Mo Xi turned to look at the moon hanging over the imperial capital, where countless households glimmered like fallen stars. “I have no friends or family in this city.”
Jiang Yexue looked at him and, without pressing the matter, nodded calmly.
After a while, Mo Xi gave a slight cough and finally began asking questions, just as expected.
“How have you been these past few years?”
“Quite well.”
“And the sovereign?”
“He’s well.”
“Princess Mengze?”
“She’s well, too.”
“The cultivation academy?”
“Doing fine.”
Mo Xi: “…”
Yet there was something unreadable in Jiang Yexue’s eyes, shifting between light and shadow. Mo Xi had the strange feeling that Jiang Yexue knew none of these were the things he really wanted to ask about, and so he wasn’t taking his answers particularly seriously.
“Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
“No.”
But a little while later, Mo Xi drained the last of the wine in his glass. Gazing at the brilliant night sky, he finally couldn’t help asking.
“What about Gu Mang? …How is he?”
Jiang Yexue looked at him as though he were sighing inwardly, Ah, so you’ve finally asked about him.
This time, instead of answering with just two or three words, Jiang Yexue deliberated for a long while before speaking.
“You mean his current circumstances? I’m sorry, I’ve never been to that sort of place, so I don’t know the specifics. But I imagine things aren’t good.”
Mo Xi froze for a moment. Frowning, he asked, “What place?”
Jiang Yexue had not expected that reaction. His eyes widened slightly, and he stared at Mo Xi in surprise.
“You don’t know?”
“What am I supposed to know?”
Jiang Yexue: “…”
Neither of them spoke again. Suddenly, a burst of laughter erupted from the main hall. Through the lattice windows, the overlapping, disorderly silhouettes of drunken men and women could be seen.
Mo Xi abruptly realized what Jiang Yexue meant. His eyes widened.
“Don’t tell me he was sent to—”
“…He’s been at Luomei Villa for two years already. Didn’t Chenqing tell you?” Jiang Yexue paused before continuing. “That’s Lord Wangshu’s establishment, and you know how much Lord Wangshu hates him.”
Luomei Villa… That was…
The setting book’s notification voice supplied the answer.
【A brothel.】
Mo Xi had already figured it out from his conversation with Jiang Yexue. He didn’t need the notification to tell him.
He was speechless.
Ever since the soul fusion, Mo Xi had imagined all sorts of possible fates awaiting Gu Mang.
Back then, he hadn’t yet known what punishment this world had in store for Gu Mang. He had imagined that if Gu Mang were locked away in the heavenly prison, he might go and take a look, then sneer at him and make a few sarcastic remarks. If Gu Mang became a cripple, Mo Xi wouldn’t feel any sympathy for him, either. He might even find ways to make his life more difficult.
Whatever tender feelings might once have existed between them, too many years had passed. Their hatred had accumulated too deeply for reconciliation to remain possible.
In the real world, the last time Mo Xi had seen Gu Mang, Gu Mang had been lying on a resuscitation bed, being wheeled into the operating room. The red light above the door had shone just like the blood staining Mo Xi’s hands and clothes.
That had been their last parting without an argument.
Mo Xi’s imagination was limited. He could only draw from reality when imagining the fictional world. So the only peaceful encounter he had ever envisioned between himself and Gu Mang, in which they might sit down and share a pot of wine, was something similar to that final scene: in a cemetery, with Gu Mang lying beneath the earth and Mo Xi standing outside. Perhaps he would speak to him as he once had, then place a bouquet of red peonies conjured from spiritual energy before the gray stone tombstone.
But Gu Mang had been bringing one surprise after another into Mo Xi’s life for as long as he could remember. Mo Xi had never imagined that this time would be any different—
Luomei Villa.
Mo Xi’s heart twisted around those four words. He turned them over and over in his mind, trying to squeeze even the smallest shred of satisfaction from them.
But in the end, he realized it was all futile. He could draw no pleasure from the thought whatsoever. On the contrary, he felt disgusted and furious.
He had no idea where that disgust and anger came from. Wasn’t it supposed to be satisfying when the wicked got what they deserved?
“Lord Xihe, are you all right?”
“…”
Mo Xi braced his elbows against the carved railing. He wanted to curl his fingers, but they had gone so numb and stiff that he could barely move them. He turned to look at Jiang Yexue’s face, yet his features seemed strangely blurred.
Dizziness came in waves. His stomach clenched in spasms.
Gu Mang had been sent to Luomei Villa.
For two whole years.
What kind of place was it? A brothel, a den of debauchery! Even wizened old men with leathery skin could buy themselves a bed warmed by young, tender flesh there. It was a sacrificial pit filled with ugliness and stench, a place of decay. In a single day or night, it could drain a person of their blood and marrow, devouring them from the inside out. Those who entered with gentle natures emerged unrecognizable; those who entered with fierce spirits destroyed themselves along with everything around them.
They had actually sent him to that place?
No. The one who deserved to be despised wasn’t them. It was Gu Mang himself…
Had Gu Mang gone mad to write a story like this? What was it supposed to mean? What was he alluding to? People had said before that Gu Mang had hidden countless unspeakable secrets and unfulfilled grievances in his book. What exactly was he so resentful about?
He would rather sell his own body and live like a lump of filthy mud than die, was that it?!
Mo Xi felt that he ought to burst into unrestrained laughter at that moment. That would be the proper reaction, the one that matched the bone-deep hatred everyone believed existed between them. And so he really did twist his lips, trying to force a little satisfaction out of himself.
But all that emerged was a cold, “Ha.”
The thin, bitter laugh slipped through his tightly clenched teeth.
Once more, he seemed to see the clear, handsome face of the boy he had first met, bathed in sunlight, his dark eyes smiling at him.
Can I sit next to you?
Then he seemed to see the bright, lively figure of the teenage Gu Mang, surrounded by a boisterous group of friends. Gu Mang turned his head and winked at Mo Xi. The outer corners of his long eyes curved slightly upward, then softened into a warm, genuine smile.
He also remembered all the things Gu Mang had done in this world—
There was the cheeky, slick-tongued Gu Mang, grinning as he joked, “Come on! Enlist in the Turtle Army today, and next year we’ll be promoted and rolling in money!”
There was Gu Mang’s furious roar amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
“Come on! Move! Anyone who isn’t completely dead, get your asses up and pull yourselves together! I’m taking you home!”
And there was Gu Mang kneeling stubbornly before the throne in the Golden Hall, begging the sovereign not to have his soldiers hastily buried together in unmarked graves.
“I want to ask the apothecaries to identify the bodies… Please, Your Majesty. This isn’t a pointless effort. Every soldier deserves a name on his tombstone. Your Majesty, I don’t want my brothers to be unable to return home in the end.”
“They don’t need grand honors. They just need the names they should have been given in the first place.”
“That is their dignity.”
The Marshal Gu of those memories seemed to speak each sentence like cold rain falling from the sky. Mo Xi did not know how much sincerity Gu Mang had put into those words. Had he truly meant them, or had he merely typed a few pretty lines on a keyboard without thinking much about them?
He didn’t know.
But as those words trickled back into his memories, he felt as though his head were splitting apart. He pressed a hand to his forehead, covering his face in its shadow. His skin felt icy.
His heart was cold and damp.
“Lord Xihe…” Jiang Yexue asked. “Are you all right?”
No one answered. A long time passed before a voice devoid of discernible emotion finally drifted out from the shadows, neither warm nor cold.
“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Mo Xi murmured, “I really did hate him more than anything…”
Jiang Yexue looked at him and sighed. “Actually, if you feel terrible about this, there’s nothing strange about it.”
The copper bells hanging from the eaves chimed in the wind, their slender yellow tassels fluttering.
“Your names used to be mentioned together all the time. You studied spells together at the cultivation academy, went to battle together, and were later ennobled together,” Jiang Yexue said calmly. “Now you still stand high above everyone else, while he has fallen into the dirt. For so many years, you stood shoulder to shoulder, equally renowned as the twin jewels of the kingdom. Now only one of you remains in that position. I imagine you can hardly be happy about it. And besides…”
He paused and turned to look at Mo Xi.
“Lord Xihe, he was once your friend, too.”
Mo Xi lowered his thick, dark eyelashes. After a moment, he replied, “I was blind when I was young.”
“Even after he betrayed the country, you continued to believe he had his reasons. You believed him for a very long time.”
“That’s right. I was particularly blind.” Mo Xi looked at the glass in his hand. A little wine remained inside, its surface gleaming with a blood-red hue. He no longer wanted to continue this conversation. “The wind is picking up. Elder Qingxu, let’s return to the hall.”
For several days after learning Gu Mang’s whereabouts, Mo Xi remained deeply agitated.
He had originally intended to suppress these inappropriate feelings, but as the days passed, his agitation only grew worse.
Mo Xi knew he was suffering from an illness of the heart.
And the only remedy for it was at Luomei Villa.
Finally, one evening, when dusk had deepened into night, a carriage draped in dark, translucent curtains slowly entered the sacred city north of the imperial capital, a place where only cultivators were permitted to come and go.
Mo Xi sat inside the carriage as it traveled deeper into the sacred city. His eyes were firmly closed. Even with the curtains drawn and no one else inside, he kept his back perfectly straight. His handsome face, almost extravagantly so, bore no expression whatsoever. His cold, stern demeanor was enough to inspire fear.
“My lord, we’ve arrived.”
Mo Xi did not immediately step out of the carriage. Instead, he lifted the curtain and looked outside from the shadows.
It was the busiest hour of the sacred city’s night market. Across the street, two extravagant rows of lamps shaped like ninety-nine frost-covered plum blossoms had been conjured with spiritual energy outside the establishment’s entrance. Their light illuminated a large, crimson signboard hanging high above the doors.
Luomei Villa.
“The dawn breeze bears frost, pure as snow; in a single day, it falls into the dust and mud.”
Unlike an ordinary brothel, a large proportion of the people inside were prisoners of war captured by Chonghua. Their spiritual cores had been destroyed, leaving them helpless captives, reduced to serving as male companions in the brothel.
“My lord, are you going in?”
The Tear of Li Jun warned him:
【Warning: Lord Xihe would not willingly visit Luomei Villa. This action will reduce character fidelity by 5%.】
It wasn’t that Lord Xihe wouldn’t want to go. He simply wouldn’t want anyone to see him going.
Fine, deduct whatever you want, Mo Xi thought irritably. I still have 77% character fidelity.
【That is a reasonable point. Revising assessment criteria: entering Luomei Villa while being seen will reduce character fidelity by 5%. Entering Luomei Villa without being seen will increase character fidelity by 0.5%.】
“…”
This was exactly why, even after two years, Mo Xi’s character fidelity remained stuck in the seventies. The Tear of Li Jun deducted points in increments of three or five, but awarded them in increments of 0.3 or 0.5.
Seeing that Mo Xi still had not responded, the coachman timidly asked again, “My lord, are you going in?”
Mo Xi replied, “Take me to the back entrance.”
The carriage stopped at the rear gate of Luomei Villa.
“Go back. You don’t need to wait here.”
After giving the coachman his instructions, Mo Xi stood still and studied the layout several times. Then, with a light tap of his toes, he leaped onto the eaves and silently slipped into the night.
He had studied the floor plans of Luomei Villa before coming, so locating the quarters where the young male companions lived was not difficult. Before long, he reached the flower pavilion in a secluded courtyard. Pulling on his cloak, he entered through the main door like an ordinary guest and walked past row after row of rooms with vermilion-lacquered doors.
“Qin Cai, maidservant of the Ten Thousand Withered Serving Flames.”
“Tang Hulu, deputy commander of the Blood Rain Left Army.”
“Ji Roufan, female officer of the Blood Rain Left Army.”
A small wooden plaque hung beside every door, detailing each person’s former kingdom, official position, and name. Their backgrounds were all recorded clearly, making it easy for guests who had grievances against an enemy state to find the most suitable person on whom to vent their anger.
If a guest was inside enjoying himself, the name on the plaque would be written in red. If no guest was inside, the writing would be black.
At Luomei Villa, the smiles, the flattery, the sexual services, and even the lives of every man and woman were assigned a fixed price.
Mo Xi’s gaze swept over the plaques as he walked, his robes fluttering around him. The soundproofing here was poor. The noises of men and women enjoying themselves in the rooms were painfully clear. His sharply defined brows drew tighter and tighter, and his heart pounded faster with every step.
Where was Gu Mang?
He passed dozens of rooms, yet still hadn’t found the plaque bearing Gu Mang’s name.
He went upstairs to the second floor and continued searching.
At last, in a secluded corner, Mo Xi stopped.
A dark wooden plaque.
Thin, narrow handwriting.
Gu Mang, traitor of Chonghua.
It was the only plaque in the entire establishment bearing the name of Chonghua.
Mo Xi’s gaze settled heavily on that small wooden sign, as though it weighed a thousand jin. For an instant, something seemed to ignite deep within his dark eyes, burning in the shadows.
But the light quickly went out.
He raised his hand. His knuckles were still an inch from the door when he stopped.
Then he suddenly realized something.
The characters on Gu Mang’s plaque were written in red.
There was a guest inside.