Ai Mingxia drowned in the same dreams as the broken, the damned, and the dead. 

Her breath was heavy when she pressed her eyelids open. Her clothing had mostly dried, if awkwardly, but her bedsheets were damp and sticky. Sunlight beat down on her through her window. Quietly, she pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the reverberations of her breathing and the harsh sound against the walls.

After what seemed like an eternity, it slowed. Ai Mingxia exhaled in relief. She felt much better now: her head was cleared and she no longer felt like she would topple over like a stack of golden foil at every movement.

She had really blundered her mission at Changhou. She still wasn’t sure why the woman had done what she did, but it could’ve easily been prevented. Even activating her wind cultivation to thrust her out of the way might’ve worked: she had forgotten that it was an option afforded to her. 

Sighing, Ai Mingxia forced herself up and neatly folded the blankets. Taoyun and the knives lay innocuously on the floor, perfectly clean. If the knives could’ve been tampered with, should she take the risk and draw her blood to cast the array? 

Ai Mingxia searched the room. A beam of harsh sunlight reflected on a shard of broken glass on the floor from when she had thrown the weapons at the wall earlier. She had only hit the side of the window, so only a minuscule fractal of glass had fallen. Picking it up, she let it cut her index finger. It was more convenient this way.

After drawing the array on the ground, making sure it was as neat and accurate it could be, she laid the splinter of glass on the desk and pushed open the door. It seemed to be noon or so, so she’d still be able to make the afternoon lessons. She’d usually catch lunch, but her freshly-healed stomach still ached. She could take a few hours without food, right? She could meditate in the outskirts of the gardens instead while waiting for the lessons to begin. 

She almost fell back into the room at the sight of Si Ma Zhilian’s blood-splattered face. Her eyes were cold and flickering with murderous intent, fixated on a bloodied silver sword in her hands as her shadow darkened the reddened hallway. Ai Mingxia shivered. This soon…?

Si Ma Zhilian seemed to notice her presence and turned towards her. Ai Mingxia blinked. The blood and the shadows disappeared as fast as they came. Si Ma Zhilian’s stare was blank and tired as ever, and her sword, though in her hands indeed, was sheathed. “Good morning. I am glad you’re feeling better.”

Ai Mingxia nodded, feeling as though her legs were shaky again. “Good morning.”

Si Ma Zhilian observed her languidly, eyes flickering to Ai Mingxia’s empty hands. “Are you sure you don’t want to get your weapons if you’re going to go outside? I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve modified them a bit so they should work better than before. I heard there have been fierce corpses around lately, and we’re having spars today if you’re going to lessons.”

Uneasily, Ai Mingxia shuffled back into her room, never turning her back to Si Ma Zhilian. Quietly, she picked up the knives and Taoyun from the floor. Si Ma Zhilian even admitted to making adjustments. And was Si Ma Zhilian going to be attending lessons today for once? Was she going to accompany her?

She gave Taoyun a small swing more out of muscle memory than reason, thinking it’d be much more convenient if she didn’t need to awkwardly hold two knives in one hand if she didn’t need one to hold Taoyun. A spear couldn’t be hung on your waist like a sword could, after all. In a split second, the spear folded into itself and turned into a small chunk of waxwood laced with intricate incantations carvings. Ai Mingxia stared at it, dumbfounded. What sort of sabotage was this?

Si Ma Zhilian smiled. It would’ve been charming if it weren’t on her. “It won’t activate in real fights, don’t worry. Isn’t it a lot more portable this way? Just will it while touching it and it’ll go back to normal.”

Ai Mingxia didn’t want to end up stabbed by her own weapon, so she simply elected to tuck it into her robes as well as one of her knives. She’d test just what the parameters were of this sort of sabotage soon. Had Si Ma Zhilian effectively all but sealed off the use of her best weapon? Or perhaps it was just more mind games, and it really was a spell of convenience. “Thank you,” she replied carefully, not letting her emotions bleed out.

Si Ma Zhilian turned around, beckoning for Ai Mingxia to follow. Her back was ramrod straight and there was not a crease in sight on her red robes. Her pace was fast even as she adjusted her sheathed sword to hang by her waist.

Ai Mingxia followed, her grip tightening on the handle of the knife in her hand and tensing to leap at her without making a sound. Would it be this easy…?

Of course it wouldn’t. Just as she was about to pounce, they had reached the front door and Si Ma Zhilian turned the handle, spinning around to hold it open for Ai Mingxia. 

Ai Mingxia inched outside uneasily at a strange angle, making sure to not leave her back open to Si Ma Zhilian.  If it was all for Si Ma Zhilian’s sick enjoyment of mind games, she probably wouldn’t stab her with her sword, but it still wouldn’t be an ideal position to be in. 

After the few tense seconds of Si Ma Zhilian locking the door, the brown-haired girl strode to stand next to her. “Shall we be off?”

Aversely, Ai Mingxia nodded. “Where are we going?”

Si Ma Zhilian chuckled softly. At least Ai Mingxia was still amusing her if it really was entertainment she was after. “To lunch.” Despite her laugh, her voice was as perfectly polite and blank as ever. After a few pregnant seconds, Ai Mingxia realised she was expecting Ai Mingxia to start walking first.

Hand tightening still on the knife, she began to walk forwards. Si Ma Zhilian kept up with her pace and walked right next to her on the other side: the same side where her sword rested against her waist. 

As they walked to the hall of food laid out for the disciples, Si Ma Zhilian afforded Ai Mingxia no opportunities to fall behind. Once they arrived, the brown-haired girl softly said, “You should probably tuck that knife in as well. You took them from Yuan Liqian, right? It might be best to not let him see it.”

Ai Mingxia wasn’t sure whether to fixate on the fact that Si Ma Zhilian knew she had stolen the knife or that she was telling her to put it away. It took a few seconds of awkward scrabbling to draw the knives out when they were being entirely hidden within her robes. More time than it took to unsheath a sword, that was for sure.

The hall was beautiful, a tall white-walled structure with a giant skylight in the ceiling letting sunlight filter in. Many disciples were already sitting at the table, giggling and eating heartily with each other. Though she had been worried about being told to put her knife away, it wasn’t as though she could attack Si Ma Zhilian here anyways. It was mostly a matter of nothing to defend herself with if Si Ma Zhilian chose to do something. Would the brown-haired girl attack her in front of so many witnesses, anyway? She must be strong, but she doubted she was that strong, or else she wouldn’t have come here entirely, and there were other Blossom-level disciples around. 

Scanning the room, Ai Mingxia recognized the same yellow-clad boy — Guo Qiuyue — sitting with the farmer girl — Luo Yanmei — as well as Lei Yongrui and his lackeys a few rows further, jeering at some other boy. 

Unfortunately, Si Ma Zhilian chose to walk over to the two empty seats not too far away from them. If she knew about the knives, she must know about their actions as well: she just liked seeing Liu Xiuying be tormented, it seemed. The section of the table quieted as they moved over, and Ai Mingxia felt a sinking feeling of dread that only increased the closer they got.

Si Ma Zhilian primly pulled out a seat and sat it in gracefully, her unmarred skin smoother than the tablecloth. Her brown hair cascaded gently, and her still-unwrinkled uniform looked especially pristine in the golden sunlight. Compared to the other disciples, she looked almost like a painting. But even if she looked the epitome of a perfect cultivator, it didn’t change her twisted mind that laid within.

Blood on the tablecloth. 

Blood on her hands. Blood in her unknotted hair. Shadows in her eyes, blood on her lips. The hall and the people fell away and it was just the two of them in an endless sea of shadow, an ever-reaching silence. She looked to Ai Mingxia with a jarring smile, her mouth revealing far too many teeth. A hand rested on the intricate handle of her sword.

Ai Mingxia stepped back. What was happening…?

She blinked, and suddenly, as though everything was filled back in, it was back to normal. She could hear the tail end of Lei Yongrui’s loud sneer: “— out your master’s chair like a good little dog?”

Si Ma Zhilian was indeed looking at Ai Mingxia, but she wasn’t smiling. She looked almost worried. And then anger flashed in those skylit eyes, deep and palpable. 

Yet Ai Mingxia had no time to ponder on it as Si Ma Zhilian stood up and instantly whipped around to send a piercing gaze through Lei Yongrui. Quicker than lightning, she drew her sword from her sheath and pointed it at him. The tip was sharp and her back straight as a ruler, her grip tight and arm taut. Her jaw was clenched tight, and her usually-lazy eyes were narrowed and hostile. Ai Mingxia almost gaped. “Don’t call her that. Her name is Liu Xiuying. I am no master, and she no dog.” She laid her words out loudly and slowly, like painting blood onto a canvas. They were smouldering, like the flickers of flame that told a prologue for a wildfire.

Near everybody fell silent for a scant second, before the room erupted into hushed giggles and countless gazes fell onto Ai Mingxia. Lei Yongrui nearly fell over in his chair, before he was caught by the very same boy he was jeering at early, who looked away in embarrassment after Lei Yongrui regained his balance and sent a skeptical glare towards him. At least he kept his mouth shut.

What? It was … unexpected, to see the least. So was the only person allowed to torment Liu Xiuying her? Was that it? Ai Mingxia barely stopped her mouth from hanging open.

“You lowly scum. Liu Xiuying is my good friend. You are… Lei Yonglin, right? Of the clan hailing from the Golden Fields? I am sure they would be proud to see what sort of son they had raised. A waste of money, and a waste of time.” Her words and her tone were so reminiscent that Ai Mingxia almost gasped despite herself, pressing her nails into her palm. They really were too similar... 

Lei Yongrui looked positively outraged, trembling with rage. “You —” He was cut off by a hand covering his mouth; the same boy he was jeering at earlier again. It was for his own benefit, really, but his face contorted in rage. The boy removed his hand, bowing his head in submission, but one of Lei Yongrui’s friends — Yuan Liqian — nodded to him and held his hand over Lei Yongrui’s mouth as well before he could blurt out any more words. Hesitantly, the boy did so as well, the two of them holding Lei Yongrui back from saying some words and doing some things he would later regret.

Si Ma Zhilian, a brief twinge of satisfaction crossing her face, sheathed her sword and sat back down. She turned back to Ai Mingxia, beckoning her to sit down as well. Hesitantly, she walked over, ignoring the stares sent in her direction. This situation was simply too strange… She supposed she had underestimated the extent of Si Ma Zhilian’s crooked possessiveness. Unless… 

Feeling slightly queasy, Ai Mingxia, still digging a nail into her palm, began to eat the rice in front of her. She swallowed, throat feeling drier than a desert. Next to her, Si Ma Zhilian gracefully sipped at tea, as if nothing had happened at all.

In light of recent hallucinations and events, a possibility had begun to occur to her. And if it turned out to be the case…