LUO FAN
After Jinjing's burial, Ruan Yanjun wasted no time bringing me to his residence. I wasn't shackled or caged, but it was clear I was a prisoner in all but name. Two of his disciples stood guard outside my chamber at all times, their silent vigilance constantly reminding me of my confinement.
I was allowed to walk through the lush gardens that sprawled around the residence, but never alone. Wherever I went, a pair of watchful eyes followed. The gates were heavily fortified, and I was expressly forbidden from even nearing them. Freedom was a memory that felt farther away with each passing day.
To my reluctant relief, Ruan Yanjun himself kept his distance during those initial days. He had returned to the imperial palace, supposedly to attend to matters with the emperor. Perhaps he knew his presence would only deepen the ache of my grief, or perhaps he simply didn't wish to deal with me while I was like this. Either way, his absence gave me the solitude I craved to process my emotions, though it did little to dull the sting of losing Jinjing.
I tried to distract myself with the mundane. Tending to the garden became my only solace. I watered the flowers, trimmed overgrown branches, and potted new plants to brighten the residence's front yard. It was an empty routine, but it kept my hands busy and my thoughts from spiraling.
One day, as I sat by the pond watching the koi lazily swim beneath the surface, Huang Wen approached me. His expression was hesitant, as though unsure if he should even speak.
"Priest Luo," he began gently, his voice low enough not to disturb the tranquil atmosphere. "Jinjing didn't mean to betray you. She didn't do it for the money."
I didn't look at him, but I felt my chest tighten. My silence prompted him to continue.
"She did send the money you both earned to her sick son, yes, but that wasn't the reason she gave you up. My senior sect brother was present when it happened—when they forced her hand. Two men dragged her into an alley while she was on the street. They had tracked the location of her son through the money transfers and threatened to kill him and her entire family if she didn't cooperate. The money she received was merely a reward, but the choice wasn't hers."
His words cut through me like a blade, though I kept my gaze fixed on the rippling water.
"They knew you had people secretly watching over you, protecting you," Huang Wen continued, "so they needed to eliminate them first. They used Jinjing because they knew she was important to you. They ordered her to mislead Xiong Juan, telling him you wouldn't be traveling as planned. That's why Xiong Juan stayed behind, unaware you'd gone ahead to the village."
"Why didn't your sect brother intervene?" I asked, my voice low and cold.
"Master Ruan instructed us not to interfere unless your life was directly at risk," he admitted, his tone apologetic. "My senior sect brother was only following orders."
I clenched my fists, struggling to suppress the anger bubbling beneath my grief. They had watched, knowing she was helpless, knowing her fate—and they did nothing. Their inaction had led to her death.
"After you were taken…" His voice softened, his tone tinged with regret. "Jinjing came here to plead for my master's help. But at that time... my master was nowhere to be found." He hesitated, as though weighing whether to continue, then pressed on. "Before my master departed, he gave strict orders. I was to remain here until he sent further instructions. No exceptions. No deviations. And without his explicit permission, I couldn't dispatch disciples to aid her. That's just the way of the Eternal Damnation Sect—absolute obedience to the master is our highest law."
Bitterness swelled in my chest, a tide of anger and grief threatening to spill over. My fists clenched at my sides as I struggled to contain the storm within me. What good would it do to voice my fury? No amount of recrimination could undo what had happened. No words could bring her back.
So I swallowed it all—the pain, the anger, the unbearable guilt. I forced myself to nod, to bury my emotions behind a mask of composure. Speaking my bitterness aloud wouldn't change a thing. It would only lay bare the hollow truth: that I had failed her too.
When he received no response from me, he lowered his head and then silently retreated, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
*****
As night fell, I returned to my chamber, my steps heavy with the weight of grief and resignation. Sitting at the table, I stared at the familiar bottle of wine a servant had placed there earlier. They had grown used to my nightly ritual, probably anticipating my request even before I voiced it.
For two weeks now, wine had been my only solace. Each night, I drank myself into a haze, letting the alcohol dull the sharp edges of my pain until sleep finally claimed me. But tonight, as I looked at the bottle, something inside me hesitated. Was this really the path I wanted to tread? How much longer before the wine consumed me entirely?
My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Before I could respond, the door slid open, and Ruan Yanjun entered uninvited, his presence as commanding as ever.
I immediately stood, bowing slightly out of habit. "Lord Ruan," I said, cupping my hands in greeting. "I was not informed of your return. My apologies."
He hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze briefly sweeping over me before settling on the table. Without a word, he moved to sit across from me. I followed suit, unsure of his intentions.
His eyes fell on the bottle of wine. "The servants tell me you haven't been eating properly," he said evenly. "But you've certainly been drinking plenty."
I averted my gaze, unwilling to meet his penetrating stare.
"A-Fan," he said, his tone softening, though it still carried a note of authority. "I've given you time—two weeks to grieve, to collect yourself. But now, it's time to move forward. You owe me that much."
I sighed and lowered my head. "I understand."
"Are you ready to fulfill your end of the bargain?" he asked, leaning back slightly. "Or do you need more time to wallow in this room? I can give you another week if you insist, but no more."
"…There's no need," I replied quietly. The truth was, I couldn't stand being confined here any longer. The idle days had only deepened my sorrow, giving me too much time to dwell on what I'd lost. Perhaps leaving—traveling, working—would distract me, even if only for a moment. "I'm ready."