"Yunwu… Yunwu was my sister," the woman said, her voice trembling as she gazed into Li Zhameng's sea-green eyes, now swirling with hints of gold. Her hands clutched her robes tightly, as though the words themselves might break her. "Tell me… where is she?" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her expression a fragile mix of hope and fear.
Li Zhameng's face softened, a deep sadness settling over his features. His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as he replied, "My mother passed away last year." The grief in his tone was obvious, and as he spoke, the swirling gold in his irises seemed to dim, overtaking the jade in a muted glow of sorrow.
"Li Shizi?" Yin Huli's voice broke the silence, a rare edge of uncertainty in his usually smooth tone. His amber eyes widened in shock as he looked at the woman, his hands rising to unravel the scarf that concealed his face.
The woman's gaze snapped to him. At first, she seemed unsure, but as her eyes fell on the familiar amber hue of his, recognition dawned like a storm breaking over her face. She was no longer the young girl he remembered—her youthful, stern expression had given way to weathered lines, her once-bright eyes dulled with years of hardship.
"You…" Her voice was sharp, trembling with barely-contained rage as she grabbed him by the collar, yanking him closer. Her grip was stronger than he anticipated, fueled by decades of pain. "You took her!"
"I did no such thing!" Yin Huli's voice was low but commanding, cutting through the charged air like a blade. His golden eyes glinted with restrained emotion as he stared into hers. "The Young Lord ambushed us, yes. But when I went to find her after the battle, she was already gone!"
Her grip loosened slightly, her hand trembling as it fell away. Her gaze turned distant, her voice steady but laced with bitterness. "They took her to the Bao estate," she began, the words heavy with resentment.
Li Zhameng's attention was rapt, his expression unreadable, though his jaw clenched tightly as the story unfolded.
"Father said it was for her own good," Li Shizi continued, her tone clipped, as if each word was dragged out against her will. "That Da Jie… that she needed to be cleansed. The Young Lord of the Bao estate took her…" She let out a bitter laugh, but there was no warmth in it—only a hollow, aching despair.
"And?" Li Zhameng pressed, his voice quiet but sharp, as if he already suspected the answer.
"They said she was plagued by demons. That he," she gestured toward Yin Huli, her voice dripping with venom, "had marked her somehow." Her fingers clenched the hem of her robes, her knuckles turning white as she continued. "It was all lies. Da Jie wasn't possessed. She was…" She hesitated, then exhaled sharply, her voice lowering. "She was in love with you, Yin Huli."
Her words hit like a stone dropped into still water, the weight rippling through the air. Yin Huli's head bowed, his ears twitching faintly under the hood.
Li Shizi's sharp gaze turned on him, her voice accusing. "To the Baos, she was tainted. She needed to be fixed."
A tense silence fell over the group. Xue Laohu glanced between them, his brows furrowed deeply, while Shudu's expression remained unreadable, though his ink-stained nails tapped idly against his arms.
Li Zhameng broke the silence, his voice steady but laced with anger. "And then?"
Li Shizi's shoulders stiffened as if bracing herself against the memory. "She stayed there for months," she said, her voice faltering. "We received letters from the estate. They wrote about her progress, about the rituals they performed to 'purify' her. I believed them. I wanted to believe them." Her voice cracked on the last word, but she pressed on, her tone hardening.
"Then one day, a letter arrived saying she had disappeared. No warning, no explanation—just gone, in the middle of the night."
Yin Huli's hands clenched at his sides, his expression darkening as her words sank in.
"Bao Yu, the Young Lord of the Bao estate," she spat the name like a curse, "claimed that you came in that night." Her trembling hand shot up to point at Yin Huli, her eyes blazing. "He said you stormed the estate and dragged her away!"
Yin Huli's tail flicked sharply beneath his robe, a telltale sign of his agitation. He met her gaze unflinchingly. "That is a lie," he said, his voice measured but dangerous.
"I would never harm her," Yin Huli growled, his amber eyes glinting with an intensity that made the air feel heavy. For a fleeting moment, his sharp features softened, and there was something almost tender in his voice, a hint of regret that barely surfaced. "I searched for her, just as you did. But she was gone, as though the earth itself swallowed her whole."
Li Shizi's face twisted, torn between anguish and disbelief. Her trembling hands clenched at her sides, the knuckles white. "And you believe them?" Yin Huli asked, his voice low and steady, every word piercing the thick tension between them. He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto hers with a force that seemed to root her in place.
Tears spilled freely down her face, her lips trembling as she struggled to speak. "I… I don't," she finally admitted, her voice cracking under the weight of the confession. Her chest heaved with the effort to hold herself together. "I think the Bao estate didn't want to admit they failed. Or worse… they didn't want to admit what they did to her."
Her words hung in the air like a lingering shadow, oppressive and inescapable.
Yin Huli's expression darkened further, his jaw tightening. When he spoke again, his voice was colder, a blade wrapped in frost. "And what of Bao Yu? Does he still live?"
Li Shizi's tear-streaked face shifted, her gaze hardening. "Yes," she said, the single word laced with venom.
Beside them, Li Zhameng stood frozen, his pale face betraying the turmoil swirling within him. His jade and gold eyes darted between the two of them, the world around him feeling as though it had begun to tilt. "Wait—my mother… she never told me any of this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"She never mentioned having a family," Li Zhameng said softly, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His voice carried the weight of confusion and pain, his words trembling as though they might shatter under their own weight. "Not once. Not to me."
Li Shizi's tear-filled gaze snapped up, shifting from Li Zhameng to Yin Huli. Her voice was shaky, her suspicion rising like a tide. "Is he…?"
Before she could finish, Yin Huli's voice cut through her question, sharp and unyielding. "He is not my son," he said, his tone firm.
The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the distant clamor of the market outside. Shudu leaned against a post, his hands nonchalantly tucked behind his head, his expression unreadable, though his sharp gaze lingered on the group. Beside him, Xue Tuzi cradled Jiao Jiao in his arms, the little Gu worm puffing its cheeks as though sensing the tension in the air.
Li Zhameng stood rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on the dusty ground beneath his feet, but his mind was a storm of racing thoughts and unrelenting grief. Xue Laohu, standing close by, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, the rare softness in his gesture betraying his own unease.
The air between them felt heavy, laden with the weight of Li Shizi's revelations. Li Zhameng's face had gone pale, his composure shattered. His usually steady hands trembled ever so slightly, a sheen of sweat forming on his temple as his breaths grew shallow.
"That's enough," Xue Laohu said firmly, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence. His sharp eyes flicked to Li Zhameng's trembling hands, recognizing the telltale signs of someone on the verge of collapse. "Let's discuss this elsewhere," he added, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The group began to move, but before they could take more than a few steps, Li Zhameng suddenly faltered. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as he clutched his head, a stabbing pain lancing through his skull. The flood of information and emotion overwhelmed him, a tidal wave of confusion and sorrow threatening to drag him under. His knees buckled, but before he could hit the ground, strong arms caught him.
"Careful," Yin Huli murmured, his voice unusually soft. His amber eyes flickered with concern as he steadied Li Zhameng, his grip firm but uncharacteristically gentle.
Xue Laohu's jaw tightened as he watched the scene unfold. A deep frown etched into his face, his fists clenched at his sides, the veins in his forearms taut with suppressed frustration. He hated the helplessness that clawed at him, the inability to shield Li Zhameng from the pain. Gritting his teeth, he turned and pointed toward a nearby teahouse.
"Bring him inside. We'll talk there," he said, his voice gruff but tinged with concern.
The teahouse was a quiet refuge from the chaos outside. The hum of low conversation and the faint clinking of porcelain created a soothing backdrop. The group settled around a table, the tension between them evident. A cup of steaming tea was placed in front of Li Zhameng, but he merely stared at it, his fingers curling tightly around the edge of the cup.
Li Shizi broke the silence, her voice steady, though her eyes betrayed the weight of her memories. "The young lord ordered his men to search for you," she began, her gaze fixed on Yin Huli. "They combed through forests, rivers, villages—everywhere. But they never found you."
She paused, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her own tea cup. "A few months later, he claimed that you—" her voice faltered for the first time, a flicker of pain crossing her face, "—that you had come back. That you took Da Jie in the dead of night. He said you kidnapped her."
The room fell silent, the weight of her words pressing down on them like a stone. Yin Huli's amber eyes burned with barely restrained fury. His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table, the faint tremor in his hands betraying the storm brewing inside him.
"They lied," Yin Huli finally said, his voice low but cutting, each word laced with simmering rage. "I would never have done that. I loved her."
Li Zhameng's head snapped up at those words, his jade-green eyes swirling with confusion and pain. His lips parted as though he wanted to speak, but no words came out.
"My father," Li Shizi continued, her voice laden with bitterness and sorrow, "went mad. He couldn't bear the shame, the grief. One night, he burned down our house—with himself inside."
Her words struck like a thunderclap, sending a shiver through the room. Li Zhameng staggered backward, his breath catching in his throat as if the weight of her revelation had physically struck him. His vision blurred, the edges of his world darkening until his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed into Yin Huli's arms, unconscious, his limp body a stark reflection of the turmoil within.
Yin Huli cradled him carefully, his sharp amber eyes flickering with concern. "Li Meng," he murmured softly, shaking him slightly, but there was no response.
Despite the scene unfolding before her, Li Shizi pressed on, her voice unwavering, her words relentless. "Li Yang Mei succumbed to illness not long after. She just… faded away. And my mother," she paused, her lips trembling before she steadied herself, "she kept working at the Bao estate, clinging to the hope that she might see Da Jie again. But she never did. Not once."
Her voice broke slightly at the end, but she quickly composed herself, her piercing gaze locking onto Yin Huli. "And now you're telling me—after all this—you're not even the father of her son?"
The words hung in the air like shards of broken glass, sharp and cutting. Yin Huli's lips parted as though to respond, but no sound came. His mind churned, a storm of conflicting thoughts and memories, each fragment refusing to align.
"Then whose son is he?" Li Shizi demanded, her voice trembling now, teetering on the edge of despair and fury.
Yin Huli's amber eyes shifted downward, his gaze falling on the unconscious Li Zhameng in his arms. His expression darkened, a deep frown carving itself into his sharp features. He said nothing, his silence louder than any denial.
When Li Zhameng finally stirred awake, the teahouse was quiet, save for the faint sounds of life outside. He blinked groggily, his eyes darting around. "Ayi?" he called out weakly, his voice tinged with desperation as he looked for Li Shizi, but she was gone.
Yin Huli gently cupped Li Zhameng's face, his thumb brushing lightly against his cheek. "She's gone," he murmured, his voice low and tender. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to Li Zhameng's forehead, his touch both a comfort and a promise.
Before their intimacy could deepen, a sharp clearing of a throat interrupted them. "Ahem." Xue Laohu's voice cut through the moment like a blade. He stood nearby, fan in hand, which he snapped open with an exaggerated flick. "Before she left, she said if you wish to speak with her, to meet her on the other side of the village. She might have some idea of who your father is."
Li Zhameng's brows furrowed at the statement, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I don't wish to know," he said softly, his voice tinged with sorrow.
Xue Laohu groaned internally, fanning himself more out of frustration than heat. If you don't want to know, how am I supposed to complete this mission? he thought, exasperated.
Their group departed the teahouse and returned to the inn in heavy silence. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long, golden shadows as they walked. Inside, Li Zhameng hesitated, then turned to Yin Huli. "Can you—can you take me… to where my mother used to live?" he asked, his voice trembling, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Yin Huli placed a comforting hand on Li Zhameng's back, nodding silently. "Of course," he said, his tone as steady as the promise in his gaze.
"Meng Meng," Xue Laohu intervened, stepping forward with a slight frown.
"Shizun," Li Zhameng said, turning to him with an imploring look. "It will only be for a short time. I wish to pay my respects."
Xue Laohu opened his mouth to protest, but before he could get a word out, Yin Huli flicked his tail. The motion stirred up a cloud of dust, sending Xue Laohu into a coughing fit.
"Let's go," Yin Huli said simply, steering Li Zhameng away as Xue Laohu spluttered behind them, waving his fan furiously to clear the air.
The sun dipped lower into the horizon, painting the sky with hues of crimson and gold. Shadows stretched long across the village streets as an ornate carriage rolled slowly along a dusty road. Inside, an old man peered out through the window, his one good eye narrowing with keen interest. A jagged scar bisected the other, a pale and twisted reminder of some violent past. His face was weathered and leathery, creased with lines of age and cruelty, and his small, beady eye glinted like a predator's.
The man shifted, his massive belly pressing against the finely embroidered sash that struggled to contain it. His gnarled hand gripped the edge of the window frame, veins bulging beneath thin, papery skin. "Halt," he barked, his gravelly voice cutting through the creaking of the carriage wheels.
The driver immediately pulled the reins, bringing the carriage to a complete stop. The old man leaned forward, his lone eye widening as it focused on two figures making their way through the bustling village. Li Zhameng's striking eyes caught the fading light, their vivid jade hues rimmed with gold, glowing like precious gemstones in the evening sun. Beside him walked Yin Huli, his sharp amber gaze scanning their surroundings, every step purposeful and protective.
The old man's breath hitched, and he coughed violently into a handkerchief, the white cloth stained with faint spots of crimson. He wheezed, clutching his chest, but his gaze never wavered from Li Zhameng. "Those eyes…" he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of desire. "It's them. The same eyes—like jade embedded in golden embers. Those unmistakable eyes…"
He leaned further out the window, his gnarled fingers gripping the edge of the carriage as he stared at the pair disappearing into the crowd. His good eye burned with a mixture of recognition and something darker—obsession, perhaps.
"Follow them," he ordered, his tone low but commanding. He coughed again, hacking into the handkerchief before tucking it away with a trembling hand. The carriage driver hesitated for only a moment before snapping the reins, urging the horses forward at a careful pace, ensuring they kept the pair within sight.
The old man leaned back into his seat, his breathing shallow but steady as his lips curled into a faint, almost sinister smile. "I've looked too long for you," he murmured to himself, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. "Far too long…"