Chapter 48: The Execution by Fire (II)

When You Jiang submitted his memorial pleading for retirement for the tenth time, Ji Ye finally granted his request and asked him, “Is it truly worth it, just to see You Daidai once? Why did you choose to protect her and her family? You must know, so many have abandoned the women of their clans for the sake of wealth and glory.”

You Jiang paused for a moment before replying, “The You family has stood strong for three centuries through three dynasties, not because of the ruthless strategies of our men, who abandon what must be abandoned. Rather, it is because we do not easily give up on anyone in our clan, not even the women who marry in. The prosperity of the You family was never built upon sacrificing its women.”

As he was leaving, You Jiang added, “A hundred years ago, the men of the You family perished one after another, leaving behind only widows. Yet it was these widows who revived the You family’s estate.”

Ji Ye was filled with respect and watched as You Jiang strode away.

The Celestial Prison was the emperor’s private dungeon; within its confines, from the warden down to the lowest jailer, all answered to the emperor alone. Daidai was kept there, the vast and shadowy dungeon reserved for her alone. For she was a demon, and wherever she appeared, pythons would gather in abundance. From the night she was thrown into the prison, the original inmates had been so terrified by the constant presence of snakes that they begged to be transferred. The jailers, at their wits’ end, reported the situation up the chain of command, and overnight all the other prisoners were relocated.

It was a long corridor flanked by iron bars, with pythons of varying thicknesses coiled along the rails. When someone approached, they’d raise their heads, flicking their crimson tongues menacingly.

They were sinister creatures, and when gathered together, their yin energy would surge to create a domain of ghosts. Yet there are people born with righteous energy, unafraid of such creatures; You Jiang was the best among them. Coupled with the murderous aura he carried from years on the battlefield, when he entered the dungeon and walked down that passage, the small pythons all shrank back to hide.

Seeing this, You Jiang felt a weight lift from his heart. At least this meant that no one would dare secretly torture Daidai while hiding it from those above.

Daidai was deep within the dungeon; it took him about half a cup of tea’s time to reach her. There, he saw a small figure beneath a tiny window in the ceiling, where sunlight streamed in to form a circle of light on the ground.

Finally, there was light. After so long in darkness, his eyes needed a moment to adjust.

She was perhaps the most reassuring and yet most terrifying prisoner, for the door to her cell stood wide open, and on the ground were five or six fruit pits—no two of them alike, if he wasn’t mistaken.

She actually had fruit to eat in the Celestial Prison. Who was sending it to her? The emperor?

He soon had his answer, for a small, snow-white python slithered in slowly through the window, its tail wrapped around a red fruit he had never seen before. Even standing at the cell entrance, he could smell its sweet fragrance.

This was Daidai’s first time meeting this “father” alone. When their eyes met, she could feel the fierce and upright energy emanating from him.

Even the imperial python, which had been leaping about ready to bite, slunk away in embarrassment to hide atop the bars.

This man carried a murderous aura, the natural enemy of all dark and sinister things.

Daidai cast a disdainful glance at the imperial python, took the red fruit from the little white python, wiped it on her skirt, and took a crisp bite. The juice was sweet and plentiful, making her eyes curve with delight.

Yet the Celestial Prison was still a prison—crude and comfortless. Apart from a thick layer of dry straw, there was nothing to sit on.

The atmosphere between “father and daughter” was somewhat strange. Daidai rolled and tumbled freely on the straw, while You Jiang sat in silence, his dark, square face deep in inscrutable thought.

Neither spoke, and so the surroundings were utterly quiet, save for the hissing of the diligent little white python, worn out from its deliveries.

After a while, Daidai felt the straw sink beside her—You Jiang had sat down. She scooted over, sat cross-legged, and tilted her head to look at him.

He wore a general’s robe, with a leather jerkin beneath it, inlaid with purple copper at the arms, chest, and thighs—vital areas. Though over fifty, he remained broad-shouldered and imposing, with thick brows and large eyes, exuding an aura of righteousness that inspired respect at first glance. But Daidai saw deeper: this was a man of great wisdom, who concealed his thoughts well.

At the same time, he was a father, his love as steadfast as a mountain, yet he did not know how to comfort this daughter.

He raised his arm, hesitated twice, then finally placed his large hand atop Daidai’s head. Daidai shrank back, then, after a moment’s thought, obediently allowed it.

“So, you’ve finally awakened.” His voice was deep and thick, his gaze at Daidai obscure and impossible to read.

“Hm?” Daidai blinked in confusion, the fruit still in her mouth.

“I knew you were extraordinary from the moment you were born. Do you know how your mother died?”

“Ah?” Daidai scooted closer, ready to listen intently. She was the best listener, for she was a different kind of demon, with endless years ahead of her. Other demons might live a hundred or five hundred or even a thousand years, but unless they found another path, they would eventually perish.

“I have killed many, though always the enemy. Still, enemies are people too. I am not a bloodthirsty beast. Every battle was brutal—severed limbs, scenes of carnage everywhere. But once, when facing the enemy army with no options left, I resorted to a desperate measure and set the mountain ablaze. Three hundred thousand enemy soldiers burned to ash in that fire, their screams lasting ten days and nights. I stood atop the mountain and listened to their agony for ten days and nights, as if plunged into the deepest hell. From then on, a demon took root in my heart, and nightmares plagued me every night. The whole family was worried. Your uncle was an old friend of Master Wuxiang at the Temple for the Protection of the Nation, so he entrusted me to him, hoping Buddhist teachings would cleanse my heart. Your mother was already carrying you and could not bear to leave me, so she accompanied me up the mountain.

“We built two thatched huts at the foot of the mountain and lived there. Each day I heard Master Wuxiang’s teachings, then returned to chop wood and carry water. Your mother cooked and rested, keeping the baby safe. Life was peaceful there, but the demon in my heart only eased a little. The nightmares still came every night. Still, we stayed. One day, a tiger with wild eyes came down from the mountain to eat people and ran into your mother, who was seven months pregnant. I thought it was the end for both of you, but suddenly a giant indigo python sprang from the forest and fought the tiger. By the time I arrived, the python had strangled the tiger to death, but was itself fatally wounded and died soon after. Back home, your mother told me what had happened and how the snake had saved both of you. That very night, your mother went into labor prematurely, perhaps from the fright, and after bringing you into the world, she was so weak that she soon passed away. While grieving, I noticed something strange about you. At night, whenever you cried, countless snakes and pythons would crawl around our hut. When I bathed you, I found two indigo scales growing from the flesh at the base of your spine.”

Daidai was so absorbed in the story that she reached back and felt her own rear. “No scales now.”

You Jiang patted her head and continued, “At the time, I was so frightened that I took you to Master Wuxiang. He said that all things have their destiny, and one life pays for another; two lives entwined, so I should cherish you well. So, we stayed there, father and daughter, listening to Buddhist scriptures for five or six years. I raised you from a lump of flesh into a delicate little girl, and, strangely, my inner demon gradually faded away with your nightly cries.”

He was full of emotion as he recalled these things.

“So where did my scales go? What a pity they’re gone.”

“Five or six years later, war broke out again in Great Yan, and I had to return to the army. Before I left, Master Wuxiang used a small knife from the altar to remove your scales. From then on, you lost the power to summon snakes and pythons. I never thought that, more than ten years later, your ability would awaken again. Daidai, whether you were possessed by that snake or not, I cannot be certain, but what is beyond doubt is that you are my own flesh and blood.”

“It’s only evil spirits that possess people.” Daidai pouted, her tone much more affectionate toward You Jiang, and she shifted to rest her little head on his knee.

You Jiang was tanned dark by the sea; whether he smiled or not, Daidai couldn’t tell. In any case, his presence was gentle and harmless at this moment.

“You were always so clingy as a child. If I went to chop wood, you’d follow; when I carried water, you’d climb into the bucket to squat. At night, the two of us would sleep on a straw bed, and the next morning, I’d find you tangled around my arm or sprawled across my belly, never lying properly.” You Jiang felt as if the precious daughter he had raised for five or six years had returned. His fatherly heart was as soft as spun sugar, his eyes so gentle they seemed to overflow.

Imagining the warm scenes painted by this “father,” Daidai felt a pang of reluctance. But immediately she suppressed it, pulling away from his embrace, hugging her knees, leaning against the wall, and said blankly, “You will die, and you can’t stay with me forever. So I won’t think about those things you mentioned, even though they warm my heart. Go now. I’m ready to leave this world.”

“I will keep you safe, Daidai. How could I bear to see a white-haired man bury a black-haired child?”

Daidai shook her head. “You don’t understand. Dying is my way to live again. Do you believe that you might just be a figment of my dream, or perhaps an illusion constructed by others, all to make me see the truth? To force me to cultivate?”

She gazed at You Jiang, hoping for affirmation in his eyes.

After deep thought, You Jiang reached out and gave Daidai’s cheek a harsh pinch, making her cry out in pain.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” she whimpered pitifully.

You Jiang was not a talkative father, and said no more. Daidai nestled beside him again, resting her head on his lap and closing her eyes for a nap.

After a while, he finally spoke again. “I know all that has happened to you in the palace. Do you really love His Majesty so much? Would you consider loving another man instead? Your father will support you.”

“…Maybe I’m just too lonely.”

A long time passed. Just as You Jiang had given up hope of an answer, he heard her soft reply.

Author’s note: For the 30th.