Death

The night was long, so long that it seemed to stretch endlessly.

Qi Jiafu was deeply drunk, the alcohol burning in his blood, almost consuming his remaining consciousness. He didn't know where he wanted to go, only that he needed to leave. He didn't know what he wanted to leave behind, but the sole thought in his mind was to leave.

Leave the brightly lit area behind him, leave the Qi residence, leave the upper city, leave Changxiang City, leave this nation...leave every place that reminded him of Jia Xi.

Leave himself, as far away as possible.

He was about to collapse from drunkenness and needed to find a place to lie down.

He didn't know if he could get up again after falling this time.

He ran, his legs carrying him away, avoiding all places that could evoke memories.

He was born and raised in this city; its streets and alleys were etched into his blood. Even while dead drunk, he could vaguely discern the direction to go.

His legs brought him to a place.

This place had lights and fire, laughter and joy, seemingly exempt from the curfew.

This place had small houses with walls made of gray dirt that shed dust, uneven ground, and people who looked as if they were all drunk.

This place had a decadent smell of perfume.

Qi Jiafu knew where he was.

The West Gate.

The West Gate, where Qi Xiang had strictly forbidden entry.

The place where the world's wanderers gathered.

He somewhat understood why Ling Zichong always had a woman by his side; men naturally knew where to hide.

But he still retained some of the Qi family's taste. He staggered through the narrow gaps between walls, crossed the filthy ditches, and headed toward the most luxurious building in the West Gate.

It was a beautiful small building with its own courtyard, more like a home than any building in the upper city.

The West Gate was a red-light district. Even in his drunken state, he knew that. But he didn't know that brothels had guards at the door.

"Hey, hey, hey, who goes there?" The two guards looked relaxed, sitting on the stone steps at the entrance, legs stretched out, with a plate of pickled beans and ham slices on their knees, and a jug of wine beside them.

Qi Jiafu grabbed the jug and poured it into his mouth.

"What are you doing!" One of them tried to grab his hand. He let the man grab him, still pouring wine into his mouth.

He needed to pass out, had to pass out; he couldn't bear to wake up.

His footing was unstable, stepping on the plate, shattering it, and he fell back, sitting down. Holding the wine jug, he drained the last drop and then looked up, answering the angry man: "What...what? What...what? Isn't this...a brothel?"

"Disgusting! Truly disgusting!" The young man who had grabbed him almost fell, looking at the broken plate and beans with distress, cursing while cleaning up the pieces. "A brothel! There are different classes of brothels! Is this a place for you? Go somewhere else to get drunk!"

Qi Jiafu's voice floated from his throat, his tongue and teeth failing to cooperate. He held his head, seriously contemplating the young man's words: "Go somewhere else? Go...go where...else?"

The young man was about to erupt again, but the older one stopped him. "Alright, alright, he's this drunk, what's the point in arguing? Hey, brother, you can't sit here, okay? You're this drunk, you won't get anything done inside, right? It'd be a waste of money, wouldn't it? Let me help you up, okay? Where's your home?"

He reached out a hand, and Qi Jiafu grabbed his arm, clambering up as if grasping a tree branch in a mire. He pulled so hard that he hadn't stood up before the man fell, crashing onto the ground with an "ouch" onto the broken porcelain pieces.

Qi Jiafu didn't get up but watched the man and chuckled dryly twice.

The young man panicked, helped his companion up, and grabbed Qi Jiafu's collar. "Dare to lay hands on me?"

Qi Jiafu didn't want to fight at all. He patted the hand in front of him, like swatting away a mosquito.

The young man didn't care and forcefully lifted him, dragging him away while cursing, "Disgusting! A lowly slave...I need to wash my hands."

Qi Jiafu tilted his head, as if hearing the term for the first time: "Lowly slave?"

The young man spat. "What are you pretending for? Which house are you from? Not an escapee, are you? If you cause trouble, I'll report you to the city watch..."

Qi Jiafu's head, already tilted, slumped further, hanging from his neck as he looked at him.

The young man suddenly fell silent—

Qi Jiafu's head hung weakly on his shoulder, a bit comically, but his eyes were blood-red, like a ferocious beast.

Those eyes...the young man shivered, his shoulders shaking.

The blood-red eyes closed tightly, as if to lock away the beast.

The young man sighed in relief.

The blood-red eyes opened again: "Dirty?"

The young man, scared, pulled back, but it was too late; his hand was grabbed. Qi Jiafu leaned forward, "Very dirty, huh?"

The young man, terrified, shuddered and finally remembered that the person in front of him was just a drunk who couldn't even stand up. He got angry and yelled again, "Is it wrong to think you're dirty? Of course, I think you're dirty!"

"Heh." Qi Jiafu pulled the young man's hand, dragging him closer. The young man struggled, but couldn't break free. The blood-red eyes moved closer to his face, whispering, "Sir, if your arm is dirty...just don't keep it, okay?"

This wasn't a threat or a negotiation; the young man had never heard such a terrifying voice. He started to struggle, but it was useless. The drunk's every move was slow, yet he couldn't break free. The drunk's fingers pushed along his radius bone, slowly moving to the elbow joint, feeling the protruding joint like an annoying, unnecessary branch.

"Hey—" the young man screamed.

He flailed, couldn't break free, struggled, couldn't escape. The drunk seemed to have no strength, but his hand was like it was wedged in a rock crevice. The young man punched the drunk's forehead hard, but the drunk's head swayed with the punch, drooling wine, his hand unmoving.

"Brother, he misspoke in a rush, don't take it to heart!" The older one hurried over to mediate, helping the young man pry the drunk's hand away, to no avail.

It wasn't entirely ineffective. The drunk's hand squeezed the young man's elbow for a moment, then released, holding his forehead, gripping his hair, "Hiss...don't take it...to heart"?

The two exchanged glances, both with expressions of "this is too bizarre". The drunk in front of them wasn't completely unreasonable but also wasn't completely rational. It seemed his brain worked three or four times slower than normal. It took a long time for words to reach his ears, then to his brain, and even longer to react. He seemed to be struggling with whether to "take it to heart" or "not take it to heart".

"Yes, yes, yes!" The young man was inspired, shouting into Qi Jiafu's ear, "What was said just now doesn't count—doesn't! Count!"

"Hiss..." Qi Jiafu struggled with the thought, grabbed his hair, knocked his forehead twice, deeply troubled.

"What should we do? Should we call Sister Xiaotao?" The young man, somewhat afraid, anxiously stomped his foot and consulted his companion.

"No way. Sister Xiaotao said she had 'important matters', told us to guard the door, and not let anyone in." The older one disagreed.

"Hey, it's not your hand he's grabbing! I don't care, she said not to let anyone in, not that she can't come out!" The young man raised his voice, calling out, "Sister Xiaotao! Sister Xiaotao! Sister—Xiaotao—help—"

Upstairs, a window suddenly flew open with a bang, and a woman shouted, "What are you yelling for?"

"Someone's trying to kill me! Hurry down here!" The young man was panicking, shouting desperately.

"Kill you?" Qi Jiafu was almost smashing his own head open. One hand wasn't enough, so he grabbed the young man's hand and used it to hit his head too. With three hands knocking on his head, he still couldn't figure out what was going on.

"Oh my God! That's an exaggeration! It's not true!" The older guard waved his hand in front of Qi Jiafu's face, shaking his fingers and giving the young man a stern look to stop him from saying anything more inappropriate.

"Kill... you?" Qi Jiafu looked up, his face covered in sweat, his eyes blood-red as if they were about to bleed.

The young man was completely terrified. He had never seen a killer or a victim before, but he knew this person in front of him—this beast—could swallow him whole at any moment. He felt like the unluckiest person in the world tonight. He swore that if he could get away, he would learn from his companion and speak politely to everyone. He felt like crying, and indeed, tears started falling to the ground with a "plop plop."

The beast saw his tears and seemed to loosen his grip a bit.

Huh? Does crying work? If only I had known earlier. The young man didn't care about anything else and started bawling. He thought about pleading for mercy but then remembered that this man was not right in the head. Saying the wrong thing might make it worse, so he just squatted on the ground, pounding the earth and crying.

"Xiaoyu! Xiaoyu!" The older guard squatted down too, placing himself between Qi Jiafu and the young man. "Don't worry, it's all my fault, all my fault. If I hadn't slipped and fallen..."

Who wouldn't be anxious at this moment? The young man opened his mouth wide and wailed, "Brother!"

The beast's mouth twitched, then he suddenly flung the young man's hand away.

The older guard quickly grabbed the young man and backed away.

The beast vomited—a torrent of alcohol, followed by stomach acid, bile, and blood.

Both guards were scared stiff. There were drunkards every night in Xiguan, but this one was vomiting horribly. He collapsed on the ground, vomiting with a face full of sweat, seething as if he wanted to vomit out his entire being.

No one had ever hated themselves this much.

He got up and fell again. He curled up on the ground, struggling to rise, only to fall once more. The road was smooth, but it felt like there were countless tripwires under his feet. He fell repeatedly, growing more agitated and desperate.

He was like a horse trapped in barbed wire, a fish speared by a javelin, a bird with its wings on fire.

Like... a beast trying to bite off its own shadow.

He let out a very low growl, a sound entirely within his throat.

His neck was bleeding, his arms were bleeding... Every tear in his clothing was bleeding, as if he were being torn apart by that invisible beast.

"What's the big deal? It's just this guy?" A woman appeared at the courtyard gate. "Hey, Xiaoyu, Laomian, this guy is in this state, why don't you help him?"

Xiaoyu and Laomian shook their heads in unison: "If you want to help, you do it!"

The woman walked over, her face bearing a deep crimson pillow mark, indicating her "urgent matter" was sleep. She was in her forties, with deep crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, a bit of a paunch, and wore just a robe, revealing two long, white, thick legs.

She watched for a while, covered her mouth with a yawn, and lazily said, "Let's go, nothing interesting to see."

Laomian reluctantly looked back at Qi Jiafu before following her.

Xiaoyu was reluctant to leave, but the woman grabbed his ear and dragged him into the courtyard.

Xiaoyu clutched his ear, "Hey, hey, Sister Xiaotao, I just want to see what's happening."

The woman dragged him inside and closed the courtyard door behind her. "No peeking, and no sneaking a look. Laomian, get some snacks and a tub of bathwater; Xiaoyu, find an old mat, the more tattered the better."

"What for?"

"If he kills himself from the torment, we'll do a good deed and clean up his corpse."

"Sure, sure... Sister Xiaotao, what's wrong with him? He can't be like this just from drinking right? Is he possessed?"

"Huh, I don't know either."

"Sister Xiaotao, you've seen a lot. What kind of people haven't you seen? I want to learn. Tell me what you think."

"Well... do you know what punctuation is?"

"Yes, educated people use it when reading. 'Pause' is a comma, 'stop' is a period. Without punctuation, the whole book is a jumbled mess."

"Mm, well said. This man, he's punctuating his own life. I don't know how he's gonna end it , whether it's a period or a comma, so of course I can't understand him."

"That's even more confusing. Sister Xiaotao, do you know him?"

"How to put it... I do, but I don't."

Voices from inside the courtyard faded as Qi Jiafu rolled on the ground, seemingly oblivious to everything.

Blood flowed, continuously.

The blue stone pavement was stained with patches of blood.

Throat, heart, broken bones, blood, blood, blood...

Jia Xi's smiling face, Jia Xi's tears, Jia Xi's blood, blood, blood...

How many people had he killed? He couldn't remember and didn't want to. Those were just tasks and orders, just like how he would someday become someone else's task and order. But now, the frozen memories cracked open, blood, blood, blood...

He lay on the ground, the bright moon above, the street like a mirror reflecting his face, his bloodied face, blood, blood...

He jumped up, saw his clothes, remembered how they were put on. He wanted to tear them off, then saw his hands, remembered how these hands held the knife that slit Jia Xi's throat.

Better to break off this hand, end this life, but Jia Xi had said, "I won't forgive you, so you have to live with this life of mine".

Was that a curse or a blessing? A request or a command?

Who can live carrying someone else's life? He didn't even know how to live his own.

"You're free now, isn't this what you dreamed of?" a voice sneered. "How does it feel?"

Not good at all. He wanted to find a place, a person, a voice, to kneel and follow orders, just like he had done for the past twenty years—then he could justifiably be out of control, shifting the responsibility, grateful to that person, hating that person, even rebelling against that person.

Turns out anything could be endured except freedom.

He searched and searched, only finding his own voice—"You better not regret it now."

How could he not regret it? The only price he had prepared to pay was death. He never thought someone would steal his trump card, forcing him to live.

——"When you come, I'll be waiting at the door. You let me see your hand first, see if the brand is still there.."

He couldn't help but sneer. "Jia Xi, what kind of burden did you leave me?"

——"Freedom." Jia Xi's lips mimed.

The sky showed Jia Xi's face, round and smiling, as if he'd never have troubles or pain.

——"The dead are dead slaves; the escaped are escaped slaves. You have to live until you become a free man."

——"You're shameless."

——"Mm-hmm."

——"This isn't fair. You took the easy path and left the hard one for me."

——"Nothing unfair, you're stronger. You always thought so too."

——"I was wrong."

——"Oh, then just lie there, or crouch."

"Jia Xi!" He reached for the sky. "Don't go!"

——"What for? To watch you roll around?"

"Don't go... Please don't go." Tears flowed, too many tears tonight, perhaps enough for a lifetime. He begged, hearing his own voice, unbelievably hoarse and weak. "Don't go, I can't bear it alone. You can't do this, you can't give me your life!"

No sound, the night sky was silent, the alcohol fading, the blood coagulating, illusions disappearing, the void empty, emptier than madness.

"I know you're here," he murmured. "Don't go, tell me what to do."

No answer, the wind sneered.

"Come out—" he roared, startling himself with his wild howl.

"Get out here—" He slashed at the sky wildly, his hands empty, the sky empty.

Nothing can come from nothing.

That voice reappeared: "Stand up straight, I'll tell you."

He stood up straight, not knowing when he had gotten up.

He had to hear that voice.

"Brother Fu, I didn't force you. The choice was yours. If you had chosen to die then, we would have died together. Do you understand? Now you're forcing me, forcing me to bear your decision." The voice slowly changed, becoming familiar yet strange. "I'm already dead. I won't talk to you anymore. The one talking to you is yourself."

Qi Jiafu slowly hugged himself. It was really cold when the alcohol wore off.

His face was already covered in tears.

"Stop asking how to be free. You are already free. Learn to accept it." The voice guided him forward. His head was dizzy, his legs were weak, like a cicada that had just crawled out of its cocoon, spreading its wings in the cold wind.

"This is your own voice." He slowly released his arms, letting the cold wind blow through his chest, and his once melted soul solidified again.

"Congratulations, you've chosen to live."

He walked to the courtyard door and knocked.

No one responded, so he knocked harder.

The window upstairs banged open again, and the woman shouted angrily, "Who is it?"

"I heard..." Qi Jiafu mustered the courage to reply, "I heard there's a bucket of bath water and two small dishes... I'm not hungry, but I'd really like to take a bath... I wonder if it's possible..."

Having just caused a drunken scene at someone's doorstep, it was rather shameless to make such a request now. But he was too filthy, covered in vomit, and he didn't want to wear those clothes anymore.

"Wait there!" the woman shouted.

After a short while, the woman came down and angrily opened the door. It seemed she had gone back to sleep for a while, as her face still bore the deep red imprint from the pillow. She tilted her head and looked at Qi Jiafu — for a forty-year-old woman, her eyes were unusually bright.

Qi Jiafu's body was still very weak, and his voice was still shaky, but he tried to stand straight.

He noticed his face was a bit flushed and his heart was pounding. It felt somewhat shameless to be attracted to a woman, especially a forty-year-old woman from Xiguan, right after Jia Xi had just left. But it was completely out of his control.

This was a unique "woman." She wasn't particularly beautiful, nor was she young. She was dressed almost haphazardly and seemed to be in a bad mood from being woken up, yet she stood there casually and still managed to captivate.

Qi Jiafu had heard of Nie Xiaotao — every man in Changxiang City with ears had heard of Nie Xiaotao. Those who had seen her couldn't pinpoint what was good about her, but they always felt that a "woman" should be like her. When she was young, other women seemed too old; when she was old, other women seemed too young. When she was slim, other women were too fat; when she was plump, other women were too thin. When she smiled, other women seemed too stern; when she was stern, other women seemed too frivolous.

Now, with a red imprint on her face, barefoot, shoes on the wrong feet, wrapped in a robe, she stood at the courtyard door.

Qi Jiafu immediately felt that a woman should stand like that; any other posture would seem awkward.

She only owned a small part of Xiguan's business. To be precise, she was a madam, but everyone tacitly acknowledged her as the mistress of Xiguan.

Nie Xiaotao extended her hand — as she did, her robe slipped open, and she hurriedly covered it with her other hand: "Nie Xiaotao."

The formality was unexpected, and Qi Jiafu's hands were dirty. He wanted to find a clean place to wipe them but quickly realized he was dirty all over.

Nie Xiaotao's hand remained extended: "Hello."

Qi Jiafu could only shake that hand: "Hello, I am... well... Qi Jiafu."

He realized he was no longer used to this name. It was a name given by his master, and he wanted to find a new one for himself.

"I know." Nie Xiaotao patted his back. He had injuries there, but she didn't mind, and neither did he.

"Earlier... um... I think I heard you say... you know me?"

"Sort of."

"Have we met?"

"Sort of."

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

Nie Xiaotao's smile was somewhat enigmatic: "You came looking for me, not the other way around. Shouldn't you explain why you came here first?"

Qi Jiafu tried to explain, "I drank too much and wandered here by mistake. I think it's because before, Master Qi never allowed us to come to Xiguan. So... after leaving the Qi family, my first step was to come here."

"Hmm..." Nie Xiaotao's smile was as radiant as a flower. "Destiny?"

"Sort of."

"You said you left the Qi family. What kind of 'left'?" Nie Xiaotao made a circle on her wrist.

"Sort of."

"Interesting." Nie Xiaotao laughed loudly. "What happened? Can you tell me?"

"Yes." Qi Jiafu's trust came suddenly and naturally. Discovering that Nie Xiaotao was trustworthy was terrifying — this was Changxiang City, where a tradition of distrust had lasted over a thousand years. He thought for a moment, "But it's a long story. I need to think about where to start."

"That's fine. Take a bath first. You smell too bad for me to want to listen to anything." Nie Xiaotao led him inside.

"Wait, what about my question?"

Nie Xiaotao's smile was somewhat profound: "That story is also a bit long. Take a bath first. I need to think about where to start telling it."