#wu yiri

[flock-from-the-void]

♾ (for the story based on song game)

Hi! Thank you for participating! Sorry that it took this long, haha...

Anyway, the song is 🥁🥁🥁

Brutal

wc: 1395 universe: Mirage of Spring tw: self harm, suicidal ideation, cursing

“Rú Zhèng!” sect leader Wǔ screamed, her eyes filled with a fury of a snowstorm. “How dare you? For the minister of ceremony to disrespect a sacred sect this bluntly!”

Rú Zhèng starred in the abyss before her. Her robes, wide at the hemline and collar tightly hugging the woman’s neck, were giving her an impression of a lonely mountain. Tiny figurines of high-mountain birds were sitting on her silver hairpins and her face was so pale as the snow.

Sect leader Wǔ couldn’t look at this expressionless white sheet. “Does this mean nothing to you?! So insolent!”

Loud slap pierced the room, all the elders of Dòng​chuān sect froze in place. A splash of blood stained the snow – Rú Zhèng’s cheek turned bright red. Regardless, Rú Zhèng bowed deeply. “This lowly minister will pass on the sect leader’s response to her majesty. Thank you for discussing this matter with me.” She turned in place and, followed by dozens of eyes, she left the main hall.

Outside the snow quickly covered her blush. She was slowly passing the buildings of Dòng​chuān. Like a noble crane she was taking slow steps, her wide sleeves turned into wings by the wind. Only up close to her face, examining her eyes, one could see a hint of tears.

She was breaking.

She went through the sect’s gate and turned left, towards the mountain’s base. It wasn’t the time to leave the mountain yet – a small group of servants was waiting for her in the guest room. Her steps were turning into springs. She didn’t want to see them. They still didn’t dare to insult her directly but whispers and glances pained even more – like a precise needle could cause worse injuries than a punch.

This crane flew through the mountain until the snow made the air so dense, she couldn’t see a thing – only endless whiteness. She was truly just a part of nature, her soul just as blank and full of mourning.

She tripped. The coldness covered her, and the only thing she wished for was becoming one with it, like a snowflake that falls and fades, and not even a memory of it remains. Who would look for her? Who would cry for her?

“Hey, someone lies there?” a voice rapidly stopped her thoughts. A slender face full of beauty marks broke through the nothingness. A rough hand swiped down the frost from her chest. “Zhèng-jiě, what on earth are you doing?”

Rú Zhèng rubbed her eyes. Was it…?

“Come on, Zhèng-jiě,” the person helped her to stand. They hold her close. A warm sincere hug was something she hadn’t experienced for a long time, a faint blush bloomed on her cheeks.

“What are you doing here, cultivator Rú?” she asked, as they were strolling in an unknown to her direction.

“What am I doing here? Sweet idiot, you’re maybe an hour away from my sect. It would be surprising if I wasn’t here.”

“You have a point,” she murmured.

“And don’t address me so officially. Please, we’re family. And friends, hopefully.”

Rú Báiyàn was her cousin from the father’s side. Usually they were meeting under official circumstances. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if they had ever talked like this, without formalities and prying eyes of others. Rú Zhèng was a bit uncomfortable with familiarity glazing her words, yet being called “Zhèng-jiě”... it had a certain… appeal. Warm and sweet appeal.

They entered a cave. It was lightened with candles and lanterns, and full of things of all kinds. Rú Zhèng sat on a blanket and covered herself with another one. While Rú Báiyàn was boiling the water, she inspected the space. The walls were painted in random patterns. Dragons, butterflies and clouds were flying above the mountains of real bamboo strips and empty wine jars. Some poems were dangling under the lanterns, and she noticed a bunch of colorful instruments. Among all that, some lonely pots, fans and shoes were wandering.

Rú Báiyàn noticed the movement of her eyes and started to explain: “the sect leader doesn’t like excessive drinking, so we created this place. I’m pretty sure she knows about it but isn’t evil enough to end it. I mean, it’s not without a benefit for her, the bonds among the disciples and masters of Dòng​chuān were never this tight. Nothing brings people together like a good wine, right?”

“I suppose.” But what she could know about it?

Rú Báiyàn stretched her hands and gave her a cut cup filled with the water. She sat next to her. Without any shame, she rested on Rú Zhèng’s arm. The latter halted for a second, moved by the sudden touch. A drop of ink could change the color of a cup of water, a warm gesture could change the mood of a person. And so Rú Zhèng felt faint happiness.

This wasn’t good. After all, Rú Báiyàn was from the Rú family – from the people who abandoned her. Without their support, she lost everything to Dū Cuán, her right-hand man who she was supposed to trust. Even if they didn’t care for her, they should at least protect the honor of the family, but they ignored every humiliation. No one saw her as a part of the Rú clan anymore. She had no family.

Thoughts were painfully pulsating in her mind. Her skin was itching. If only she could shed it like a snake… but she couldn’t. Snakes were leaving their past life behind and just starting anew with a fresh form – she wasn’t seeking that. Maybe she was more like a squirrel who had changed her fur for the winter and now desperately tried to get the previous one back; yet she could only wait for the change in the world.

Her fingers wandered towards the fireplace. They were like… Ah, they weren’t like anything, she shouldn’t be… She should be… She should be here… Just a little bit further and… She dipped her fingertips in a flame and let go a sigh of relief. She became physical again.

Her hand was forcefully removed from the fire but she felt refreshed already. She took the hand back and glanced at Rú Báiyàn. “Sorry,” she said icily. There were no tables, so she put her empty cup on the floor. The blanket became a neat rectangle in her hands. She stood up with grace. “Thank you for trusting me with this place and your hospitality, táng​mèi.”

Rú Báiyàn’s face was frozen in shock. The second she came back to her senses, she shouted: “Zhèng-jiě!”

Rú Zhèng felt silent. She was so confused.

“How could you…” Rú Báiyàn’s brows met in the middle, the flickering light of the fire made her look more aggravated than she really was. She caught Rú Zhèng’s arm again and then she said slowly, carefully articulating every syllable: “I want to help you.” Even though Rú Zhèng gave her a confused and angry look, she didn’t fight back, so the woman continued: “tell me, why should you bear the weight of Rú Sàizhuàn’s decisions? That old ungrateful bitch pushed you to a puddle of mud and expected you to stay servile. But you can pull her in, can’t you?”

“But they are…” Rú Zhèng bit her tongue. She was not a part of the Rú family, so she was not bonded by any duty. It was as if a wall in front of her was turned into rubble and she could see a rising sun again. A mass of flaming red rage which filled not only her view but also her soul. 

She crouched, dragging Rú Báiyàn with her, and picked another charred stick. It moved so rapidly, as if gods were supporting her case and hand – a mere martial artist couldn’t avoid it. A scream filled the air. Never in her life Rú Zhèng was so free. Her wings grew again on her back – from a crippled crane she was reborn into a hawk.

“Please, forgive me” she said with no remorse in voice. “Your only sin is being of the Rú family, Yànyan, but it’s a sin nonetheless.”

Laughter exploded from Rú Báiyàn’s mouth and she couldn’t help joining in. Shivers were flaring up and dying out in her body. She felt so purified.

“Now,” Rú Báiyàn cut the laughter abruptly. “Let’s fry the rest of the pests, right?”

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