In hindsight, she should’ve noticed the blood leaving a trail as she dashed out Changhou and up the mountain. Should’ve thought of the imprints of her fingers rubbed into the knife handle. Especially shouldn’t have let her hood had fall down.
But none of that mattered.
She laid the child’s body down. Gently. As if she wasn’t the one who’d killed her. At least her body was intact.
Why was she putting so much thought into this when she’d murdered so many before? She hadn’t devoted any time or thought to her victims after she’d torn them apart, except maybe a select few. But this girl meant nothing to her. In fact, she should be celebrating her death and regretting not killing her brother too.
Instead, Ai Mingxia touched the girl’s face despite herself. Her skin was soft if splotchy. Half of her inky hair was tangled up in knots. She really did look a bit like Liu Xiuying, Ai Mingxia noted. But she looked a lot like Liang Xiaojian too.
Could Liu Xiuying have…?
No. The timings didn’t match up. The children had seemed four at first glance. Looking down at the girl now, Ai Mingxia could argue three, but still only three at the youngest.
… Killed a child and was now investigating her body for her speculations. Stated how young she was like it meant nothing.
But of course. She was Ai Mingxia. She was White Snow Seeking Scarlet. She was wrath made flesh. She was vengeance incarnate. She was stone cold steel.
And here she was. Hair whipping in the cold wind. Bones brittle. Heart weak and waning.
Ai Mingxia’s fingers were frosty. Why did she bring her body? What was the point?
But despite herself she fell to her knees and clasped her hands together.
“May death receive you kindly. May you rest peacefully and not rise again,” Ai Mingxia whispered. How long had it been since she’d said these words? “May you not become a walking corpse.”
It would make sense if she did, really. Her death was not righteous and it would make sense if she was resentful. No doubt Ai Mingxia had been the cause of many a walking corpse.
She didn’t deserve to be the only one at this little girl’s funeral. It’d be as if Ai Fengge presided over hers, if not for the fact she’d killed her and then burned herself alive.
Ai Fengge wouldn’t have laid her down gently like she had with the little girl. Ai Fengge wouldn’t have cried for killing her. For all her faults, Ai Fengge was better than her sister in that regard – at least she was willing to live with her actions. She did what she had to do and shed no tears. She did not fight any meaningless battles in her mind she knew she would lose anyways.
Until the end, Ai Fengge always won. But that wasn’t because she was particularly powerful. It was because she picked her battles well.
If only Ai Mingxia could. She should save her tears for something that actually mattered. Preferably never at all. She should not be crying because of a death of her own making.
The snowstorm does not pity the frozen. The bloodblossom does not say sorry for its unfurling.
The fox does not spare the rabbits.
The fox feasts instead.
But even though these words played in her head, Ai Mingxia did not bend down and tear out the girl’s guts, ravenous on the glory of slaughter. Instead she dipped her head further down, and Ai Mingxia, White Snow Seeking Scarlet, killer of killers, slaughterer of saints, massacrer of men, wept.
She parted the clumpy dirt, wet with her tears, with shivering hands, till a grave was dug. Impossibly small. Big enough. And then she picked the body up once yet again.
Just as cold and lifeless as when she had first picked her up.
Wait. How had the body been cold just half a minute after she’d killed her?
She’d avoided looking at her throat before, but she summoned her courage and did. There hadn’t been nearly as much blood as there should be, Ai Mingxia realised. Yes, there’d been some, but not much. She looked behind her: there was barely even a trail. The bloodflow had petered out quicker than it should’ve.
And she hadn’t realised at the time, but the girl was incredibly pale. Paler than a human girl should be. She was nearly as pale as Ai Mingxia had been in her own body. And there was a slight blue-ish tint that she wondered how she hadn’t been able to notice before.
Warily, she reached a careful finger to part the hair that had covered the wound. The hair was inky smooth in some places and knotted in others. Almost unnaturally so.
She tugged at a lock of hair, and then it fell away.
With calculating eyes she stared down at the wound. Red blood obscured her vision, but she could see the skin where it parted.
They looked like ripped seams.
Fuck.
Ai Mingxia scanned the face, and suddenly what had seemed seconds before a promise of life spent living seemed awfully unnatural. Her freckles too perfectly placed. Her eyes too almond-shaped. Her nose too pointed and chin too round. Too symmetrical on both sides.
She touched the girl’s ear, and a bit of it flaked off.
A reanimated corpse. Reanimated and then changed to become Liang Xiaojian’s doll.
Ai Mingxia chewed her lip and chided herself. So foolish she could not realise it was not a real girl. So weak she cried over the death of somebody long gone to the grave. How much of the body was natural, and how much of it was of Liang Xiaojian’s shaping? The echo of Liu Xiuying in her chin? The reflection of Liang Xiaojian in her eyes?
The corpse… how strong had it been? It had been defeated instantly, but that could be said about many things. It had taken some time to react, but when it moved it hadn’t been much slower than a real human girl. The corpse’s gaze hadn’t been lifeless at first, either. It’d looked real.
Ai Mingxia clenched her fist so hard she thought it might shatter. She’d cried for nothing. Exposed herself for nothing. Now the brother, corpse or not, could get her caught, and it would all be over.
She looked down at the body again. Could a walking corpse who’d died and then been killed again still go to the Yellow Springs? Oh, why did she care? She never thought that about the countless others.
Except maybe the first.
Ai Mingxia sighed and placed the body into the well she’d dug anyways. “May you rest peacefully without regrets.” The robes got caught on the sharp tip of Ai Mingxia’s shoes. The dirt fell into her open mouth as Ai Mingxia buried her. “For once and for all. May you …” Ai Mingxia swallowed, throat suddenly dry. Licked her lips to oil her words. “May you never need suffer another life again, and be cleansed of legacy, love, and all such poisons.”
In this regard, was Ai Mingxia not essentially a living corpse? She’d died and been bought back again, forced to follow the orders of another. But Liu Xiuying was no cunning tyrant or demon puppeter. She’d been just a young girl who’s mind had been falling apart.
Maybe had the option been there, Ai Mingxia would’ve done the same as her back then.
Maybe she would’ve summoned… who was the her of her time? Who’s stories scared her to sleep? Storm Sung of Shatters? The Moon Eater?
Ai Mingxia brushed the dirt over the body till the earth swallowed the girl up completely. “Be at rest.”
Storm Sung of Shatters. The Moon Eater. They seemed far beyond her. Snow White Seeking Scarlet had been strong, and she had been feared, and she had been wraithly, but could she have really lived up to Storm Sung of Shatters or the Moon Eater? Could Liu Xiuying not have summoned them instead? Spirits stronger and far greater than even she?
Ai Mingxia stood herself up and grasped a breath in. The dirt where she had bured her looked almost natural, but just a bit off. It showed signs of tampering. Like the body. Like Ai Mingxia herself.
She stared off into the distant, hazy outline of Changhou, and thought of how Liu Xiuying felt growing up in those crowded streets. A small bunch of gangly limbs, shivering in the cold, feet calloused, lips chapped, innocence broken. She could believe that resentment grew to fester in Liu Xiuying. Just like how it had in Ai Mingxia.
But Liu Xiuying didn’t smile and lick her lips for blood. And Liu Xiuying didn’t hunt down her victims and carve their hearts out herself for the sake of it. Liu Xiuying had been spurned by and spurned the world, but not enough to destroy it completely by summoning Storm Sung of Shatters or the Moon Eater. Ai Mingxia was only wrath made flesh. Snow and blood. Not a storm that encompassed the entire world. Not the sun beating down harsh and merciless to gouge out great holes.
Should she be proud of that? Should she be disappointed in herself?
Ai Mingxia sighed.
Every time she’d gone to Changhou, she’d failed. She’d almost gotten herself killed with the green-clad cultivator and had to be at the mercy of the strange, blue-eyed girl she was meant to kill. And yes, now she’d managed to kill Liang Xiaojian, but she’d failed at killing his children and likely exposed herself. And she’d cried over the death of a corpse she shouldn’t care about. Like she was weak and wavering again.
Ai Mingxia sat down again and hugged herself tight, like she was a child.
If only it was her mother holding her again, like they’d fall apart. ‘The Bloodblossom and White Snow Seeking Scarlet’, they’d be called. Murderer mother and murderer child. Fox-spirits doomed, damned, and destinied to bring death.
But they didn’t know that her mother told her bedtime stories even though at that point Ai Mingxia was grown, even though her mother’s chest was wracked with coughts. They didn’t know that they giggled into the night, a brief respite, even as the world was crumbling around them. They didn’t know that when Ai Mingxia was wounded, her mother ran to her even though she was deathly sick.
They didn’t know shit.
Maybe once upon a time the girl she’d buried’s mother did the same. Maybe they held hands as they skipped down the street. Maybe the mother bought her daughter street food, and kissed her on the forehead.
Ai Mingxia’s fingers clawed into her leg. Foreign fingers. Foreign flesh. Just borrowed. Not hers.
Sat alone on the side of a mountain, fierce corpse next to her, unmoving even though she should be running. What a sight to behold.
She sat there for a while, unable to force herself up. She was just so …tired. Her legs felt unwieldy. It hurt to even move. She’d thrown away her heart a long time ago, so how come now feelings came back, throbbing and gnawing?
Phantom pains, she thought, just as she realised somebody was approaching her. But their steps were loud and carefree and unhurried. A soldier’s would be fast and harried. Still, anybody was a threat, especially this close to Changhou. So she leapt to her feet.
I might be pathetic, but the world will sooner destroy itself than somebody get the jump on me.
In the distance came running… yet another child.
But right off the bat Ai Mingxia could tell it wasn’t the brother. She wasn’t sure whether she wished it was.
It was the boy she’d given money to a few days before. He was poor, meaning he was desperate, meaning he was likely to sell her out. Well. Of course he would be. Anybody should be willing to catch a murderer, money or no money.
She was prepared to turn tail and run, before –
“Wait! Missus! Missus! Are you alright?”
“NO!” She yelled out before she even registered it. “I’m not alright, and I’ll never be alright, and I’m not the type of person that should get to be alright!”
She wasn’t sure what outcome she’d expected, but what she didn’t was that the boy laughed. Hard guffaws like he was an old grandfather, clutching at his stomach, bending his knees.
Ai Mingxia was so perplexed that she paused.
The boy really did look a lot like Lian Jiang.
“Sorry, sorry, missus. It’s just your tone – ha!” The boy laughed again, clear and ringing. “Sorry, missus.” He stopped laughing, and a surprisingly serious expression crossed his face. “I saw you again, and I wanted to say hi, but it looked like you were crying.”
“... And so what if I was?” Why was she still here? Why was she not leaving?
“That’s alright.” The boy beamed. “I hope you feel better now then. Well. I wouldn’t know. I never cry,” he boasted.
“You never cry?” Ai Mingxia could hear her voice taking on the tone she’d once used greeting children when she was still sect leader and almost stopped herself, but didn’t.
“Yup! I never do.” He tapped a hand against his chin thoughtfully. “But I can tell it sucks. Do you want to talk about it? That’s what my mom said when my dad cried.”
“Nothing you would want to know, little one,” Ai Mingxia told him before she could register it. “But thank you for the offering.”
“I’m not little.” The boy bristled for a few seconds, before untensing and sighing. “But you’re welcome. Thank you for the money from last time. You look like you’ve been through a lot since.”
Wise for his age. Either too kind for his own good, or incredibly cunning of a trickster.
“Here.” The boy dropped a small brown pouch, which Ai Mingxia only barely caught before it fell to the ground. “I hope you feel better soon, missus.”
He left before Ai Mingxia could tell him thank you, but she whispered it anyways.
Ai Mingxia held the bag at arm’s length as she opened it, so just in case it exploded it at least wouldn’t get to her face. When it was wide open and nothing happened, she warily drew it closer. A sweet smell wafted out from it.
Chestnuts, she realised. Street food.
Cautiously Ai Mingxia reached into the bag and grabbed one, before dropping it instantly. She hadn’t thought they’d be so hot.
She knew she shouldn’t, especially as this body was likely more suspectible to poison than her own, but Ai Mingxia peeled it and ate it. It melted in her mouth, and she shut her eyes tight.
Just like her homeland. Like her childhood.
Why did she remember that? Why did she have to remember that?
She put the chestnut peels back into the bag, unsure where else to put them. She ate every single chestnut as she walked up the mountain.
Even if there hadn’t been enough poison in the first chestnut, by now it would’ve surely been a fatal dose. She felt fine, but maybe it was a slow-acting poison.
Still, she was disappointed despite herself when she realised she’d finished all the chestnuts.
How terribly human of her.
When she reached Yue Ning Peak, the disciples had gathered in a crowd. The elders too. Ai Mingxia frowned. How strange.
And, strangest of all, a tall man balanced on a sword levitating slightly off the ground stood, strands of gold woven into his brown hair. Dressed in purple. Si Ma Sect.
Ai Mingxia’s mind whirred. Could he have something to do with the disciple that had tried to attack her earlier?
“Hello, Elder Kang.” He bowed respectfully, but not any lower than he needed to. “I am here on behalf of my sect.” Preposterous for him to assume they’d all instantly recognize his robes… but correct.
The crowds burst into whispers: It’s the Qi-Weaver! Ai Mingxia had heard of him before, but it had never seemed like he was the sort of person that any disciple could recognize with a single look. It seemed he had risen in importance in the seven years past. She could see Si Ma Zhilian visibly stiffen.
Ai Mingxia hadn’t expected the words that came next.
“We formally declare war on the Qi Sect for control of the western half of Tengjin.”
Ai Mingxia dropped her bag of chestnut peels.
The crowd broke into screams of shock. Rightfully so.
What? Why?
Throughout the centuries of her life and certainly the centuries before, the two sects had always maintained an especially amicable bond, the clans even intermingling on multiple occasions. The two were the two oldest prominent sects to still prosper, each controlling large, rich, ever-flourishing territories right next to each other. The Si Ma Sect and Qi Sect had always stood side by side, ever-powerful, everlasting. They shared the title of most prominent sects with a few others, but they had always been there. The pillars of the cultivational world, so to speak. War would put both it and the non-cultivational folk into absolute upheaval.
Ai Mingxia wasn’t particularly fond of the cultivational world — she’d wiped out the entirety of a prominent sect, amongst other things — but even she wouldn’t want that. Especially since Si Ma Zhilian was here, she hadn’t thought anything would’ve changed…
Elder Kang sighed, a strange, raspy sound coming from his wizened facade. “I had thought it would happen sooner.” Ai Mingxia barely stopped herself from gaping. What sort of response was that?
“You have a week to surrender, and afterwards, we will attack. Please begrudge Si Ma Zhilian some time to gather her things in peace.” His tone carried some awful tone of finality to it, but his words were what worried Ai Mingxia. If Si Ma Zhilian went back and Ai Mingxia stayed here, how would she ever manage to kill her and the rest of the main branch of her clan? There was a chance they could meet on the battlefield, but… it was too low, and what if the members of the Si Ma Clan slowly got picked off, bit by bit? Then how could she kill them?
… She could go with her. Of course, there was the matter of the Si Ma Clan possibly having done something so horrible Liu Xiuying released Snow White Seeking Scarlet’s wrath on them, so her safety was even more precarious, and she still had things to do in Changhou, plus she’d lose the protection of the Qi Sect, but…
Ai Mingxia made up her mind. While Si Ma Zhilian was packing up her things, she’d plead with her to go. She couldn’t pass up an opportunity to kill the Si Ma Sect once and for all like this. Changhou was in the inner section of Tengjin and worst of all, close to Yue Ning Peak, but there was still a chance for her to be able to sneak back and … kill the children.
…
Liu Xiuying’s appearance was easily forgettable, and her accent was clearly Tengjin. If everything fell apart, she could run to Qinghai and await her death by rot there.
So Ai Mingxia made up her mind. She would get to the Si Ma Sect and get their blood on her hands no matter what. Si Ma Zhilian for last.
…Ai Mingxia had already failed twice.
She was not the type to fail three times.
Right?
Look at me, being productive! All of a sudden I am very very invested in edgy miss gworl again.
Also, I was thinking about changing the title of this. It's not a bad title, per se, but it doesn't really reflect the contents of the story at all. Maybe just so that it's sort of edgy, but still.
How would you guys feel about this? I'm thinking something that might not be quite as lyrical but definitely more straightforward. Like 'Fox-Spirit's Second Life' or 'Summoning of the Vengeful Fox-Spirit'? I don't know. For me, one of the main facets of Ai Mingxia's character's that she is/was a fox-spirit and thus a reject of society, and I'd like the title to reflect that, but I'm not sure about the change.
