Through the eyes of Zhuge Yui Lan
The silence of the room was broken only by the slow breathing of the wounded youth lying in bed. But my mind… was not here.
For days I had been reorganizing memories. Not the small ones—like the taste of tea at the Jade Clouds Pavilion, or the color of lanterns during the Autumn Festival—but the great ones, the ones that decide the course of a life.
Almost thirty-five years... that was how long I had spent, in my past life, within this city. An entire life, from my birth to the fall of my clan.
And when I forced myself to sift through it all, laying side by side every day wasted in this forgotten corner of the world, I discovered something uncomfortably obvious: in all that time, I could count only five real opportunities to increase my cultivation or influence.
Five.
And of those five... I could not seize them all.
The thread of destiny, in this life, is shorter for me.
Even so... I knew two of those opportunities would cross my path in time, in ways I could grasp. Two seeds that, if watered at the right moment, could bear fruit before I departed for a greater world.
The first was already pinned and promised. My hair ornament awaited me at home.
The second... was less clean.
It would not be as simple as arriving first at a stall and pulling an item from a lacquered box.
To reap it, I would need to be a spiritual doctor.
The reason was simple, and ugly.
The cultivation world loves to gaze at its polished bronze and repeat the same lie of "natural order": the strong above, the weak below.
Predators and prey, as though morality could be boxed into two nouns.
It was a world I could never approve of—my heart needed no reminder that "cold" and "animal" are not synonyms for "inevitable." Even so, there were forces within this world that managed to be worse, in the mouths of people, than the tyranny of the strong itself.
The so-called "demons" are easy to hate: their reputation travels ahead of them—massacres, kidnappings, atrocities, always escorted by blood. But there is another path that bears the same stigma without ritual slaughter: the path of poison.
To most, "poison" is simply malice inside a bottle. To me, it is a discipline far more dangerous.
It is a path that demands a steady hand and a cold mind, where one mistake costs the life of the enemy... or your own. When mastered, the reward is lethality too clean to let others sleep easy.
And therein lay my complication.
My second opportunity would not make my cultivation higher, nor my fist heavier. It would give me an ally. And he was lying before me.
Not a demon. A young man. Eyes narrowed by habit, not guilt; breath short, measuring pain so as not to waste it on groans; fingertips slightly blackened, not by negligence, but by constant contact with solutions that stained even through cloth.
The path of poison. He need not confess. His body already betrayed it.
If I made him my ally, I would not just take in a peculiar individual. I would bind myself and my clan to all the prejudice that followed him. And even if he never crossed the line—from peculiar scholar to true criminal—rumors always ran faster than reputation. Especially in a city as small as Grey Sky, where every brick seemed to have its own ears.
The youth before me slowly opened his eyes.
And so I had to abandon my thoughts and return to being a doctor.
— "Ironleaf, three handfuls." My voice did not rise; it remained steady. "Bitter juzu root, two moons thick, sliced thin. Cold-lichen, seven strands. Blue-crow seeds, only five; any more and he'll sleep for three days. Boil in water, remove from fire when the steam turns milky."
— "Yes, young miss." Two men in black replied in unison.
— "Ah, and don't crush the seeds." I added. "Grind them. Hurry breeds stupidity."
A muffled laugh came from the bed.
— "If I'd known life after death included a beautiful, impatient doctor, I'd have chosen to die sooner." The young man adjusted his shoulder, smiling too easily for one who had brushed so close to the end.
— "Don't romanticize the beyond." I pressed two fingers to his pulse. "I just dragged you from its hands."
— "Then I owe my life to a goddess... or a merciful immortal?"
— "To a cultivator with an agenda." I released his wrist.
— "I'm disciplined," he said, tilting his head. "At least when the executioner is beautiful."
— "Beauty is an antidote working." I picked up the mask from the side table. "Will you wear it again?"
— "Depends," he grinned. "Do you prefer true faces, young miss?"
— "I prefer my patient breathing tomorrow." I turned the mask, examining its inner layer. "Whoever made this knew what they were doing. Whoever wounded you, too."
— "They discovered my path." His smile did not falter, only grew more cynical. "And as they say, the world loves medicine but hates poison." He spoke without trying to hide.
— "The world loves simple stories." I set the mask back on the table. "I don't."
— "Then tell me yours." His eyes glimmered with amusement.
— "It's not a story. It's a proposal." I said. "What is your name... your true name?"
He hesitated a breath.
— "Heiyan." He let the syllable rest in the air like a blade sheathed. "Gu Heiyan."
— "Gu Heiyan." I repeated. "A good name for someone who likes to survive."
— "And yours? Or should I keep calling you 'cultivator with an agenda'?"
— "Yui Lan."
— "Yui Lan," he echoed, savoring each letter. "Are you truly from Grey Sky, Doctor Yui Lan?"
— "Yes." I nodded. "And that's the only reason I can save your life."
— "Fate is kind sometimes, but not always." Heiyan glanced at his fingers. "So what do you want to buy with your good deeds?"
— "Not your poison," I said, studying him. "Your discipline."
He blinked, genuinely surprised.
— "Of all the things I expected to hear..."
— "Poison without discipline kills by accident," I continued firmly. "Discipline without soul kills slowly. I want the third thing."
— "The third thing?"
— "A steady hand that moves only when I say 'now.'" I told him. "In return, I give you shelter, antidotes, and identity while you recover in this city. After that, we leave—and you leave alive with me, without alerting your enemies."
He let silence stretch, like one testing a bowstring.
— "Never thought I'd take orders," his smile returned, thinner. "I'm usually the one in command."
— "I'm not your master," I corrected. "Only your boundary line. Three rules, Gu Heiyan. If you agree, we have a deal. If not, I'll still heal you, and we part ways once you can walk without limping."
— "Three rules, then." He lifted his chin, intrigued. "I'm curious."
— "First: no testing formulas on civilians. Not even captured enemies."
— "Acceptable." A curt nod.
— "Second: no selling toxins within Grey Sky. I won't see this city turned into hell."
— "Can I sell antidotes?" The mischievous gleam nearly hid his seriousness.
— "You can. And you will." I nodded. "Half-price for the poor. Double for greedy merchants."
— "That sounds... deliciously moral." He chuckled low. "And the third?"
— "When I say 'enough,' you stop. Even if the prey is gasping, even if vengeance lies easy. I don't bargain with hot blood."
He looked at me as though measuring the invisible thread between us.
— "And if my 'enough' shouts louder than yours?"
— "Then you warn me first." I tilted my head, almost smiling. "I'm good at quieting voices."
— "And in return... shelter, antidotes, identity." Heiyan ticked them off on his fingers. "And a safe exit from the city later?"
— "In three months." I answered without hesitation. "When I leave, you leave. Until then, you're my apothecary assistant. New name, clean hands. In the courtyard, they'll call you 'Young Gu.' No one needs to know the rest."
— "Three months..." He whistled softly. "Enough time to make two new poisons, three antidotes... and a few enemies."
— "Enemies you already have." I turned toward the door. "It's friends that are expensive."
— "And you... are you expensive?" His question was a deliberate provocation.
— "Very." I replied. "We have a deal."
— "Of course—who would refuse to serve such a beautiful mistress?" he said.
Honestly, I hadn't expected a poison cultivator to resemble a young master fond of flirting. But as long as he was useful for what I had planned, that was enough.
Enough to make sure no one else in this city would be able to threaten the Zhuge clan.