A week of tense calm had settled over Zuì Mèng Lóu. In the serene silence of Xuán Líng's study, she gathered her children. She had sent the girls and Li Wei on missions before—some routine, some strenuous. Nothing was too dangerous for them. After all, there existed very few entities that could take on her children. But this mission—this would be different.
Something or someone is lurking in the shadows. She had received word of it the night her girls returned to her, injured and heartbroken. This mission will dredge up a painful past for them all.
She was always forthcoming with them and how they came to be in her care nearly two thousand years ago. And she did her best to give them a carefree life, settling in a land where very few people knew of cultivators, demons, and gods. She had carved out a piece of land in Yoji Kingdom and called it the Wàng Yōu Zhèn, meaning to town to forget worries.
It's secluded, warded, and hidden. To those who don't know, Wàng Yōu Zhèn is home to the best entertainment house in all the kingdoms— a place where the wealthy came to play in secret, to lose themselves in wine, music, performances that defied the mortal imagination and other forms of delight.
But to the few who truly knew, it was a sanctuary. A safe haven for the remnants of spirits and demons who had survived the fall of Yan. Neutral ground for cultivators who sought knowledge rather than conflict. A place where old grudges were checked at the gate, and the past, for a few precious hours, could be forgotten.
With her children gathered before her—Qianyi, restored to health and radiating a new, steely composure Yisha, buzzing with restless energy, and Li Wei, a silent pillar of watchful strength—Xuan Ling had one more truth to reveal to them—one she had no real confirmation of until last week.
"The past is returning," she began. "From the Shēn father and son duo seeking Qianyi out based on rumors, to Xuán Che's appearance. Fate has something brewing and we do not know what it is. But someone is attempting to manipulate fate." Xuán Líng exhaled deeply, an unusual line of worry appearing across her forehead. "And there's something else. There's a blight spreading slowly across Yoji. It is reminiscent of the plague that ravaged Yan Empire. And if it is related, that means you are not the only deities in this realm."
Qianyi and Yisha both looked visibly annoyed, but Qianyi's annoyance was more fear than annoyance.
"Do you think she's—,"
Xuán Líng cut Qianyi off immediately. "We do not know for certain. But I do not think it is her. I will explain more when the boy arrives."
She turned toward the window, her silhouette sharp against the fading light. Somewhere beyond the walls of Wàng Yōu Zhèn, the past was stirring. She never worried about her children before. She had no need. But this time, in the pit of her stomach, she felt the knots of worry.
After several minutes, Xuán Chè entered the parlor where the family had gathered. As he crossed the threshold, Xuán Líng turned from the window, her eyes meeting his, seeming to look straight through his soul. He knew their status was well above his own, however, the sheer opulence of Xuan Ling's parlor—the elegant furnishings, the weight of centuries in every artifact that decorated the room, drove the point home. And he behaved accordingly.
He bowed deeply at the waist, the proper greeting for a commoner addressing someone of unmistakable wealth and status. "Lǎo Bǎn Xuán," he began, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest. "Thank you for receiving me. I am deeply honored by your hospitality and the chance to work for you."
Xuán Líng inclined her head, saying nothing, her gaze already peeling back his layers. He was charming, she would give him that. And nervous, endearingly so, though he hid it well.
He straightened and turned to the others, offering a more casual but still respectful nod. "Miss Xu. Miss Jia. Master Li." His voice was warm, genuine, holding the easy charm of a wanderer who had learned to make friends in strange places.
Then his eyes met Yisha's.
She was lounging against a silk cushion, one arm draped over the back of the divan, her dark eyes bright with barely concealed amusement. Her micro-braids caught the lamplight, and her robes—a soft, deep turquois that complemented her brown skin—pooled around her like water.
Xuán Chè's composure faltered. A faint blush crept up his neck, staining his ears. "Miss Jia," he repeated, softer this time, as if her name alone was enough to scatter his thoughts.
Yisha arched an eyebrow, a slow, slightly amused smile curving her lips. She waved a dismissive hand, shooing him toward an empty seat. "Yes, yes, you've seen me before. Sit down before you fall down, wandering scholar."
The others hid their amusement poorly. Qianyi's lips twitched. Li Wei's stoic mask cracked just enough to reveal a hint of a smirk. Even Xuán Líng seemed to soften at the edges.
"Xuán Chè," Xuán Líng began, breaking the awkwardness with her voice carrying its usual languid grace, with a hint of the tone of a general. "Would you like to know more about the pendant you carry?"
"Yes. Of course," he responded, his excitement palpable. "I have spent years searching, but to no avail."
"Good. Have a seat for a chat. Tea?" When she said the words, someone immediately poured tea for both Xuán Líng and Xuán Chè. "There is a lot we know and much we do not. So, before you react, prepare yourself."
Confused and intrigued, Xuán Chè nodded.
"The jade pendant you carry bears the crest of the fallen Yan Dynasty."
The name hung in the air, ancient and heavy. Xuán Chè's eyes widened, his breath catching.
"Your family were not mere nobles. Rumors swirled that they were somehow intertwined with the celestial clan not far from Yan Empire. And that entanglement, whether true or not, led to both Yan Empire's and that clan's demise."
She watched him carefully, studying the play of shock, confusion, and dawning understanding on his face.
He seemed kind, earnest. But she had trusted a kind heart before, with her own daughter, and it had led to a dynasty's end. She offered him the history but withheld the blood that truly connected them. That was a secret she would keep until she was certain of the man he was.
"Does the name, Lady Fan, sound familiar to you," she asked the bewildered boy.
"No," he answered honestly. "Does she know about my family?
"Lady Fan is a descendant of that same line. We believe she is your kin may have fled toward what remains of the ruins of the Yan Kingdom and the Cloud Dream Marsh."
Xuán Chè sat forward, his heart pounding. Kin. Family. After years of searching, of chasing shadows and half-truths, here was a thread of hope, but was it real?
Xuán Líng let the weight of the names settle over him. Then she leaned forward slightly, her voice softening with warmth and something else. Something rarer. Sincerity.
"I can help you understand your lineage more clearly," she explained. "But I will need you to trust me." She extended her hand across the low table, palm up. An invitation. "May I?"
Xuán Chè hesitated. His eyes darted around the room searching—looking to the others—to Qianyi's calm, assessing nod; to Li Wei's stoic but steady presence; and finally to Yisha, who gave him a small, reassuring smile and nod.
He swallowed and placed his hand in hers.
Xuán Líng's fingers closed around his wrist. For a moment, nothing happened. Then he felt it—a warmth that was not heat, a pressure that was not touch. Her spiritual energy brushed against his soul like the first breath of spring after a long winter. Gentle. Curious. And beneath that gentleness, a depth so vast it made his stomach drop.
She was not trying to intimidate him. He understood that instinctively. This was merely a taste of what she truly was.
Cultivators, he thought, his mind scrambling to make sense of what he was feeling. They must be very powerful cultivators. Disguised as a wealthy merchant family. It makes sense.
It was the only explanation that fit. True cultivators were rare. Most people went their whole lives without ever meeting one. But he had heard the tales. Whispered stories of reclusive masters who hid their power behind humble facades, who watched the mortal world from the shadows. A family of such cultivators, running an entertainment house as a front, it was not far-fetched.
Dangerous. Powerful. And clearly connected to secrets far beyond his understanding.
He straightened his shoulders. Whatever they were, they had taken him in. They had given him work, a purpose, a reason to stop wandering. He would not betray that trust.
Xuán Líng's eyes flickered, just for an instant, with a faint silver light. Then it was gone.
She released his wrist.
"You carry the blood," she said quietly. "Thinned by centuries, but unmistakable. You are of that line."
Xuán Chè sat back, his hand tingling where she had touched him. He did not yet know what line she meant. But he knew, with a certainty that had nothing to do with evidence, that she was telling the truth.
And he knew something else.
He looked at each of them in turn—at Xuán Líng's eyes that seemed to know everything—see everything; at Qianyi's quiet composure; at Yisha's bright, watchful eyes; at Li Wei's silent, guarded strength. A family of cultivators, hiding in plain sight. Protecting a secret. Trusting him with it.
He straightened in his chair, his nervousness settling into something firmer.
"I don't fully understand what any of this means," he admitted. "But I understand what you're trusting me with. And I give you my word. I will never betray your secret. Whatever you truly are, whatever this bloodline means, it will die with me before I let it harm any of you."
He meant it. Every word.
Yisha's eyebrows rose. Qianyi's lips parted slightly. Even Li Wei seemed to reassess the young man before him.
They were all curious and amused, but it was Qianyi who asked the question. "What are we?"
Xuán Chè seemed taken aback. "You really want me to say it aloud?" He leaned forward and looked around to make sure they were the only ones in the room. And then he whispered, "That you're cultivators."
A wild, untamed squeak of laughter burst from Li Wei's mouth.
"He definitely has my daughter's naivety," Xuán Líng thought, shaking her head as she fought to suppress her own smile. "The earnestness. The blind faith in the goodness of strangers. And loyal."
Xuan Che sensed that he may have made another blunder, but he could not think beyond listening to Yisha's infectious laugh and her smile.
Xuán Líng did not address the answer. Instead, she turned to her children. "To get back to the point of this meeting, the four of you will journey to Yúnmèng. Find Lady Fan. She seems to know a great deal about your ancestral home and may well be Xuan Che's relative. And while you are out there, uncover what you can about the blight. We know almost for certain this is not a natural disaster. And Lady Fan may just hold the answers to everything."
It was a monumental task, a journey into the heart of the mystery that had defined their recent suffering. And this was the most they had ever seen their mother perplexed.
As the others began to discuss preparations, Xuán Líng caught Li Wei's eye. With a subtle tilt of her head, she drew him aside.
Her voice dropped to a whisper only he could hear. "Protect the girls." Her eyes, dark and fathomless, held his. "But watch the boy. Test his character, his motives. I do see my daughter's kindness in him, but he also has the stain of that other bloodline. Keep him close. Keep him safe. But watch him."
It was an order layered with contradiction: treat him as both a precious scion and a potential threat. It was a duty for which Li Wei was uniquely suited. He gave a single, sharp nod. He would be their shield, their weapon, and their spy.
The journey began at dawn. By midday, the well-traveled road had led them into the heart of a vast bamboo forest. It was a place of breathtaking, serene beauty, a testament to the realm's natural abundance.
Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy trees in shifting patterns, painting the ground in gold and shadow. The air itself was sweet and cool, carrying the clean, mineral scent of damp earth and the subtle, crisp fragrance of bamboo.
All around them, thick stems of jade-green bamboo rose like pillars of a celestial palace, their leaves whispering secrets to the wind in a soft, rustling chorus. The forest floor was a tapestry of lush ferns and velvety moss, so vibrant it seemed to pulse with quiet, verdant life. Qianyi smiled as she rode, her head tilted slightly, as if listening to a melody only she could hear.
It was a land overflowing with qì. A gentle, shimmering haze made the light seem richer, the colors more profound. Yisha reached out a hand, letting the glow pool in her palm, gathering the ambient light like scattered gold. Even Li Wei's usual icy demeanor seemed to thaw a fraction. His amber eyes, always scanning for threats, softened as they traced the sway of the bamboo. He did not smile—he rarely did—but something in his shoulders loosened, and his horse slowed to match Qianyi's pace without his command.
Xuán Chè rode at the back, content to watch. There was something effortless about the way the three of them moved through the bamboo. Yisha's hand trailing through the light like she was petting a cat, Qianyi's quiet smile turned toward the rustling leaves, Li Wei's shoulders eased of their usual tension. They seemed lighter here. Freer.
A breeze stirred the bamboo, carrying the scent of damp earth and wild blossoms. Xuán Chè breathed it in and smiled. He didn't know what he was following them toward. But for now, the road was pleasant, and the company was good. That was enough.
As the sky inched closer to night, the four travelers reached the secluded inn, its warm light spilling from a tavern that was, to their surprise, packed to the rafters with a boisterous crowd. As they walked toward the opened entrance, Xuán Chè froze, his face paling slightly.
"Zěnme le?" Li Wei inquired.
"Oh," Xuán Chè answered nervously, "I worked here for about a year. I kind of... left without telling anyone."
"Oh?" The three siblings exchanged a single, synchronized look of intrigue.
"It's, well, complicated."
"I'm sure it is," Li Wei quipped, a smirk forming on his lips as he walked forward, forcing Xuán Chè to follow.
Inside, they searched for a table through the press of bodies. Before they could find one, a very pretty tavern maid with hopeful eyes recognized Xuán Chè instantly. Her face lit up as if the New Year's fireworks had arrived early. She waded through the crowd, bypassing patrons to plant herself directly in front of him.
"A'Chè gēge!" she said, her voice bright and eager. "Hǎo jiǔ bù jiàn."
Xuán Chè sighed heavily, as he was a man bracing for a storm. "Màn'er. Yes, Long time no see."
The girl, Màn'er, reached for his hand, but he pulled back as if burned.
Trying to regain some control, Xuán Chè gestured to his companions. "Màn'er, these are my... friends. Lǐ Wèi Gōngzǐ, Qiānyí Dà Xiǎojiě, and Yīshā Xiǎojiě."
"Bà Ma missed you. I... missed you," Màn'er pressed. "Why did you leave without a word?"
"Xiǎojiě," Li Wei interjected, his voice a calm but firm blade that cut through her questioning. He had noted Xuán Chè's rigid posture, his body language begging to be rescued. "I can see this place is busy. Do you have any rooms available?"
"Oh," she said, momentarily flustered. "Yes. Two rooms opened not long ago. I'll have someone freshen them up for you." But her focus immediately shifted back to her lost love.
"There's a free table over there," Yisha declared, already weaving her way through the crowd. She didn't look back, issuing a simple, direct command that was both a rescue and a test. "Xuán Chè. Come."
Relief washed over him. Without a second glance at the stunned Màn'er, Xuán Chè immediately complied, following Yisha's lead and leaving the tavern maid standing alone in the crowd.
Though the tavern was a roaring sea of noise, their table was an island of tense, silent amusement. Badly hidden smiles and giggles threatened to burst through. Qianyi, with a grace that made the sudden peal of her laughter even more startling, was the first to break.
"I can explain," Xuán Chè said, mortified, his ears turning red. "I was in need of work, and the family who owns this tavern was kind enough to take me in. And then one night while I was cleaning, Màn'er... she confessed her feelings."
"And you rejected her?" Qianyi asked, still smiling. "But she's so cute."
Li Wei shook his head in playful disapproval, his face a mask of solemn judgment that only made the situation funnier. "Rogue."
"I tried to reject her!" Xuán Chè erupted, his voice a hushed, frantic whisper. "But then, she tried to…" He couldn't say the words aloud. Instead, he shyly, quickly, mimed a kissing motion with his lips.
The table erupted in laughter once more. Even Li Wei's stern face could not contain its amusement.
Xuán Chè continued, the story pouring out. "I avoided her for days, and then her father cornered me. He said he had a 'gift' for me. She had told him we were in love and that I was too shy and embarrassed to propose! He wanted me to marry into their family." He finished with a desperate, final whisper: "Bù kěnéng!"
"I can see it. You, a matrilocal husband," Qianyi joked.
"I could sense something off with that girl," Yisha contributed, a knowing look in her eye. "And speak of the devil..."
Màn'er appeared as if summoned, carefully balancing a tray with a jar of wine and cups. She placed the wine specifically in front of Xuán Chè, her smile radiant.
"A'Chè gēge, I brought your favorite wine and asked the kitchen to start your favorite dishes."
"Thanks, Màn'er," he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.
Seemingly oblivious to the tension she caused, she turned her bright, efficient smile to the rest of the table. Placing her hands on her hips, she addressed them in the classic, straightforward manner of a busy tavern maid:
"Honored guests, what will you be eating?"
"A'Chè gēge," Li Wei said slowly, mockingly, still unable to contain his amusement. "What would you recommend?"
"Yes, what would you recommend, A'Chè gēge?" Yisha and Qianyi echoed in unison, their eyes sparkling with glee.
Xuán Chè's beautiful, tanned face flushed a deep red with shame. Before he could counter, the roaring noise of the tavern died down to a nervous hush. Li Wei's attention, along with everyone else's, homed in on the tavern's doorway, where six rough-looking men blocked the entryway.
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© 2025 Kiesha Richardson, writing as QiXia. All rights reserved.
Death Blooms for You is an original work of fiction by QiXia. Unauthorized reproduction, distribution, or adaptation of this story in any form is prohibited. All characters, events, and settings are created for entertainment purposes and bear no intentional resemblance to real persons or situations.