As evening settled over the domain, the sky painted in hues of deep blue and purple, Zhuang walked towards the pavilion. The path was lit by glowing lanterns hanging from the trees, casting a soft, inviting light that contrasted sharply with the unease twisting in her stomach. The events of the day had left her with more questions than answers, and she was no closer to understanding her place in this strange, mystical world Xiuying had drawn her into.
When Zhuang reached the pavilion, she was greeted by the sight of Nianhua sitting at the head of a long table, a serene expression on her face as she cradled a tiny infant in her arms. The pavilion was an open structure, with a roof supported by intricately carved wooden beams with a clear view of the gardens beyond. The table was already set with a variety of dishes, each more elaborate than the last, but Zhuang’s attention was immediately drawn to the small child suckling at Nianhua’s breast.
Zhuang hesitated for a moment before approaching, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Whose child is that?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost respecting the peaceful atmosphere of the pavilion.
Nianhua glanced up at her, a soft smile playing on her lips as she adjusted the baby in her arms. “This little one? She’s mine.”
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Yours? And who…?”
Her smile widened slightly, a knowing look in her eyes. “She’s mine and Xiuying’s offspring,” she said.
Zhuang blinked, taken aback by the revelation. She had figured that Nianhua was important to Xiuying, but the idea that they had a child together hadn’t even crossed her mind. “You… and Xiuying?” she repeated, trying to wrap her mind around the concept.
Nianhua nodded, her attention returning to the infant in her arms. “Yes. And the one I carry in my womb will be, too.”
Her gaze dropped to Nianhua’s slightly rounded belly, the realisation sinking in. She was pregnant with another of Xiuying’s children. The weight of what she had walked into seemed to grow heavier by the second, and she couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for her future.
She looked across the table to where the giantess was sitting. Her presence was imposing, yet there was a softness to her demeanour that intrigued her. “And you?” she asked, directing the question to Yulan. “Where are your children?”
Yulan met her gaze with a gentle smile, her large hands folded neatly in her lap. “I’d love to give birth to Xiuying’s offspring,” she admitted, her voice warm and rich, “but it’s still too soon for that. Our relationship… it’s more complicated than you might think.”
Her mind whirled with the implications of Yulan’s words. The dynamic between these women and Xiuying was far from simple, layered with complexities and emotions that she was only beginning to understand. The idea of bearing Xiuying’s child seemed to carry with it not just the weight of responsibility, but also a deep, personal connection that she had yet to grasp.
But more than that, the revelation that Yulan, despite her strength and power, was willing to wait and figure out her relationship with Xiuying, made her question her own feelings. There was something undeniably alluring about Xiuying, something that had drawn her in despite the danger and uncertainty. Yet, the idea of being bound to her in such an intimate way—bearing her children, sharing her life—was terrifying.
Nianhua’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. “You should eat,” she suggested, gesturing to the dishes on the table. “It’s been a long day, and there’s much to consider.”
Zhuang nodded absently, her appetite diminished by the weight of the conversation. As she sat down at the table, the scents of the food wafted up to her, and despite her inner turmoil, she reached for a bowl. The food was delicious, each bite bursting with flavour, but she barely tasted it. Her mind was too occupied with what she had learned.
As the evening wore on, the atmosphere in the pavilion remained peaceful, the only sounds the soft murmuring of conversation and the occasional cooing of the baby in Nianhua’s arms. But beneath the surface, a tension simmered.
And as she looked around the pavilion at the women who shared Xiuying’s life, she couldn’t help but wonder—what would her place be in this strange new world? And more importantly, did she even want to find out?
*
Zhuang stormed into her home, her heart pounding with fury and betrayal. The doors slammed shut behind her, echoing through the space as she paced back and forth, her thoughts racing. She couldn’t believe the events that had unfolded. The idea of being someone’s third wife was an insult to her pride, a position she would never accept. She had been so certain that Xiuying was special, that they could build something together—something real and untainted by the complications of others. But the reality was a far cry from the dream she had clung to.
She paused, staring out the window at the moonlit domain, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. “I’m not going to stay here,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m not going to be caged up like some… some trophy to be paraded around. And I’m certainly not going to share my lover with others.” The words left her mouth like a vow, a promise to herself that she would not be a part of Xiuying’s world—not in the way she was expected to be.
Her blood was boiling with anger, pushing her to the brink of action. She was determined to leave, to break free from this twisted reality where she was expected to play a role that felt so foreign to her. Yet, as she made up her mind, the pain settled in. She genuinely thought that Xiuying was different, that their connection was unique. But it seemed she was just another piece in Xiuying’s carefully constructed puzzle.
As she was lost in her thoughts, the door to her home swung open, and Xiuying stepped inside. The air around her was thick with Zhuang’s unsettled aura. Xiuying’s expression hardened as she approached. Zhuang turned to face her, her eyes blazing with anger. Without a second thought, she slapped Xiuying across the face, the sharp sound echoing through the room.
Xiuying’s calm expression cracked, her eyes narrowing in a dangerous glare. She didn’t hesitate; her hand shot out, grabbing Zhuang by the throat. “Enough,” she growled. With a swift motion, she hurled Zhuang across the room.
She braced herself for the impact, expecting to crash into the wall, but instead, she felt the strange sensation of the world shifting around her. When she opened her eyes, she was in the cold, dark cave where they had last been, the air damp and chilling against her skin. She scrambled to her feet, disoriented and confused.
“Xiuying?” she called out, her voice trembling slightly as it echoed off the stone walls. There was no answer. The only sound was the faint dripping of water somewhere deep within the cave.
Panic seeped into her heart, realising what happened. Had she been discarded, left alone in this place, as a punishment for slapping her? She wrapped her arms around herself, the isolation pressing in on her.
“Did she abandon me?” she whispered to the empty cave, her voice cracking. The silence that followed was deafening, a reminder of just how alone she was. Her earlier determination to leave crumbled, replaced by the cold, harsh reality.
The cave seemed to close in around her; the darkness swallowing her whole. She sank to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest as the cold seeped into her bones. For the first time since she met Xiuying, Zhuang felt truly lost, the anger and pride that had once driven her now reduced to ashes. The isolation, the loneliness—it was suffocating, a punishment more cruel than she could have ever imagined.
She thought she was strong, that she could stand on her own, but now, in this moment, she realised just how deep Xiuying’s place was in her heart. And the thought that she might never see her again, that she might truly be abandoned in this cold, unfeeling place, was almost too much to bear.
The cave felt more like a tomb than a refuge. After what felt like hours, she finally mustered the strength to leave. The darkness weighed heavily on her, and as she emerged into the night, the moon’s cold light did little to comfort her. The world outside seemed almost unreal after being in the cave.
Determined to return to her old life, Zhuang began her journey back, her steps heavy. She had no clear path forward, only the bitter resolve to leave behind the painful memories of Xiuying and the cave. Yet, the further she walked, the more depressing her thoughts became. The faces of strangers morphed into Xiuying’s features, their expressions twisting into the same cold disdain that haunted her in the cave.
*
Every night, as she lay in bed, the shadows on her walls twisted and turned into memories of Xiuying’s unkind look. Her dreams were plagued by visions of their last encounter—Xiuying’s cruel gaze, the suffocating intensity of their confrontation. She would wake up in a cold sweat, her heart racing as if the nightmares had leached into reality.
It became unbearable. The faces she saw in the crowd, the briefest glimpses of someone’s profile, all seemed to bear Xiuying’s imprint. It was as though her mind had become a prison, with Xiuying’s memory as its warden. Each time she closed her eyes, the line between reality and her inner turmoil blurred, making it nearly impossible to find peace.
During these moments of anguish, Zhuang began to understand the depth of the emotional turmoil she had been through. She had initially viewed Xiuying’s actions as betrayal, but the constant presence of Xiuying in her thoughts made her question if there was more to their relationship than she realised. Despite her anger, she recognised the emotions that had tangled around her heart.
As she returned to her old life, attempting to reclaim her sense of normalcy. Perhaps it was for the best that they had parted ways. The realisation was painful, but it also brought a strange sense of relief. The intensity of their connection had been both exhilarating and destructive, and maybe the separation was necessary for both of them to find their own paths.
