Chapter Text
Although she still had to reach the training camp, Yu Ziyuan could already tell that Jiang Cheng was not acting in a manner befitting his role.
She pursed her lips as an uncontrollable resentment welled up inside her. It was always present in her soul, tasting of bile, ash, and poison. Sometimes she felt as if it were pumping through her body with her blood.
At first, it had been just a flutter, like a premonition of hatred. She should have felt pleased and satisfied after marrying the man she wanted. Instead, Cangse Sanren had the audacity to show up at their wedding: always insolent and presumptuous, acting as if the world belonged to her.
Then Cangse and Changze left, and with them, her bitterness subsided. But it resurfaced, erupting like a volcano when the two rats were dead and Fengmian brought their bastard home.
Since then, her life had become a series of events that fueled that hatred: when Wei Wuxian had proven himself unequivocally superior to her son, despite having begun training years after Jiang Cheng. Every time Fengmian smiled at him because, of course, Wuxian must remind him of Cangse. On the day the cursed parasite discovered he was Wen RuoHan's grandson and the most powerful man in their world had welcomed him into his family.
She was shamefully brought to trial. Wei Wuxian topped the list of the most popular young cultivators. His inventions were spreading, and his fame was growing. The horrible, unbearable knowledge of how much he was loved by a sect superior to her own.
Everything… everything about Wei Wuxian had always poisoned her life
Now, her son, the heir to the Jiangs, had to endure the humiliation of being expelled from Lan's classes while Wei Wuxian remained and strutted around. He was even allowed to use resentful energy! Rather than being considered a heretic, a threat, or a perversion, he was admired for his exploits against the Waterborne Abyss.
"A-Cheng!"
She barked her son's name more harshly than she had intended. She saw Jiang Cheng flinch and turn to her with a nervous expression. He was always nervous around her, awkward and unable to perform at his best.
Yu Ziyuan preferred to believe this rather than admit that her son's best was not good enough.
"You're doing everything wrong!" she scolded him. "With these wimpy exercises, you'll never raise any decent cultivators. You became the head disciple because you were the second choice, after the son of a servant. Do you want to cover yourself in even more ridicule by failing to complete the task as he would have?"
With a red face and clenched fists, Jiang Cheng averted his gaze from her. He looked both mortified and furious. That was fine. Anger and shame can fuel excellence when talent isn't enough. Not everyone could afford to be the best with a smile on their face.
Without another word, she stepped past her son and took control of the situation. She didn't care about overriding Jiang Cheng's authority in front of the disciples; he needed to see how to properly train that bunch of weak slackers.
"Go get the weights!" he ordered. "Two each. Extend your arms straight out at shoulder height. Straight, I said! I want all your muscles engaged! Hold this position for two shichen."
The weakest disciple, a large, burly boy with more fat than muscle, couldn't last half a Shichen before his arms began to shake. He managed to hold on without dropping the weights but lowered them to hip height.
Yu Ziyuan toyed with the idea of whipping him. Maybe then this pathetic boy would understand that training wasn't a game. In the past, she would never have done such a thing. Zidian had been reserved for him, after all—a necessary precaution given his presumptuous and brazen nature. It was imperative to remind him that he was lower than anyone else in Lotus Pier.
Now that Wei Wuxian was gone, however, nothing prevented her from properly training the other disciples.
She twirled the ring between her fingers as Yinzhu and Jinzhu caught her attention. They approached silently, seeming as cold and controlled as ever. However, she could see smugness born of resentment in their eyes. Yu Ziyuan knew that only the person responsible for their amputated limbs could elicit that kind of expression from her trusted maids.
“What did he do?” she asked them. She didn’t need to mention Wei Wuxian’s name.
After exchanging glances, Jinzhu replied, “Nie-zongzhu beat him until he passed out.”
“It happened to Caiyi,” Yinzhu added. "Several people have recounted how sect leader Nie punched Wen RuoHan’s grandson."
"Wen-zongzhu took him back to Qishan," Jinzhu concluded.
Upon hearing this, Yu Ziyuan nearly trembled with joy. Smiling, she turned her back to the disciples. "A-Cheng, continue," she instructed him. The priority at that moment was to write to her sworn sister and ask her for information. Perhaps Zixuan had seen something and could provide further details.
She left, leaving behind panting boys who collapsed to the ground, exhausted.
Yanli watched her mother walk away from the training ground, head held high, as always. She was too busy staring ahead to notice her daughter, who was hovering just outside her field of vision. The smug smile on her lips made Yanli shiver.
She was standing in the shade of a tree, holding a large jug of water and a tray of peeled lotus seeds.
Once her mother was far away, Yanli followed her footsteps in the opposite direction.
As she approached, some disciples tried to stand up and greet her properly. Yanli stopped them with a nod. "Rest," she said gently. She handed them the jug and tray. "I put lemon in the water. It will refresh you. These lotus seeds are for you."
Some of the older disciples demurred, but the younger ones, barely more than kids, cheered unrestrainedly.
Yanli smiled as she watched them gulp down water and devour seeds by the handful. "A-Cheng, take some, too," she urged her brother.
She was glad to see him eating, but she was saddened when he twisted his face into a nasty grimace of malicious joy. "I'm glad at least someone got to punch him," he commented grimly.
"Don't talk like that," Yanli scolded him calmly.
"Stop defending him!"
Although Yanli had always known her brother had inherited their mother's flaws, this was the first time he had snapped at her like that. She couldn't help but feel hurt when he looked distressed, obviously regretting his reaction.
Before her, he seemed to slump like a kite pierced by an arrow.
"I'm sorry I raised my voice, Jiejie," he murmured. He was his clumsy, lonely little brother again. "But you mustn't defend him," he insisted firmly, preventing her from smiling. He looked at her with angry eyes.
"There was a time, since your childhood, when you finished each other's sentences. Your words fit together perfectly,” Yanli reminded him sadly.
When her brother burst into a harsh laugh, implying that he saw it as evidence of betrayal, Yanli had to debunk what had once seemed like an adorable display of unity. Given his intelligence, it was more likely that A-Xian had simply adapted to Jiang Cheng. Though he appeared carefree, he was always acutely aware of how precarious his position was: the sect's mistress hated him. The clan leader only opposed his wife by allowing him to escape early after she locked him up or forced him to his knees. Then was Jiang Cheng, whose affection was that of an awkward, lonely, and possessive friendless boy who had acquired a playmate in place of his dogs.
Yanli felt a pang of sadness as she wondered if Wei Ying had ever truly been happy at Lotus Pier.
Her brother became annoyed by her hesitant silence. "Wei Wuxian is a dirty traitor who doesn't deserve your affection!" he blurted out.
"A-Cheng..."
She wanted to tell him that it wasn't true. She wanted to ask him to separate the truth from his irrational selfishness, as if he were sifting grains of gold from sand. She wanted to inspire him to be brave, to explain that he didn't need to blame anyone—not Wei Wuxian, not anyone else—to feel strong. She wanted to confide in him that true strength comes from kindness, not hatred. She also wanted to beg him not to hold so much resentment inside because he would always be the first victim of such negativity. It pained her so much to see him sink into a quagmire of hatred, violence, and revenge.
But Yanli couldn’t say anything because Jiang Cheng abruptly stood up to leave.
“You are very dear to me, Jiejie,” he said. His harsh tone sounded wrong coming out of his mouth as he said such sweet words. “But don’t ask me to forgive Wei Wuxian. He betrayed us! He spat in the face of the man who saved him from the streets, welcomed him as a son, and gave him his spirit sword. Our sect had given him everything, yet when a more powerful clan arrived, he immediately turned his back on us!” Clenching his fists so tightly that his nails must have dug into his palms, Jiang Cheng continued. “He’s no better than a whore who sells herself to the highest bidder,” he growled.
Yanli sadly recognized the echo of their mother’s insults in that accusation.
After muttering a greeting, her brother walked away, his fists still clenched. She shivered, imagining him dreaming of squeezing something between his fingers—something like A-Xian's throat.
With a weary sigh, Yanli gave up on following him. She knew how stubborn Jiang Cheng could be. If his hatred for Wei Wuxian was unshakable, then not even she could change his mind.
All she could do was smile, peel lotus seeds, and have faith in the future.