Revelations

The courtyard was compact, with a dirt floor trodden down over many years. A square ring of stone hugged the walls, built up into steps here and there to access the various rooms in the building on each of the three walls. Two smaller ones on the left and right – probably for kitchens and storage – and a larger one across the courtyard for bedrooms and a communal area.

The red-leaved tree twisted up from the far left corner, and around it, pockets of greenery sprouted in untrimmed chaos.

All this, Yang Qinghui took in, avoiding what her eyes were initially drawn to: the person standing in the center of the courtyard.

Until she couldn't keep her eyes darting away any longer, and looked at her father. 

He was a tall man, although Yang Qinghui was probably taller. That thought comforted her slightly. His long hair was mostly grey, with only a few streaks of midnight black remaining, and wrinkles spread across his face.

All in all, he had a dignified, almost regal look. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his ankle-length, crisply-pressed robes were a deep crimson edged with black.

That was Yang Qinghui's first hesitation. A colour scheme like that in this genre…

"Father." Yang Ming hurried forward.

Their father gave an easy smile, warmer than Yang Qinghui had expected. He reached out and caught Yang Ming in a hug. "My daughter."

Yang Qinghui's eyes flicked to his forehead. What she'd initially thought was a huadian was beginning to look more like…

He looked at Yang Qinghui, still smiling. "My daughters. I'm glad to see you still have time to visit your old father."

Yang Qinghui froze as she met his red eyes. A chill ran down her spine. Somehow she knew – she could sense – her father was not a human. That's no huadian – it's a demonic mark!

Yang Zhimian

Exiled Demon of the Southern Kingdom

Former right-hand of Tianlang-Jun

"Secret Character Unlocked! 300 B-points obtained."

Yang Qinghui waved away the System, her eyes nearly popping out of her head.

"A-Jing, are you alright?" Yang Zhimian asked, tilting his head. One arm was still cradling Yang Ming, but he raised his other hand out towards Yang Qinghui.

"I… " Yang Qinghui was at a loss for words. My father's a fucking DEMON? Does that mean I'M a demon?

"Demonic Heritage Discovered! 200 B-points obtained."

"Ho-ly shit." It made sense. Her quick healing, Mu Qingfang's shifty attitude, Yue Qingyuan's panic seeing her huadian – She shook her head vigorously. This is insane. And the RIGHT-HAND of TIANLANG-JUN! Of all people!

Hands settled gently on her shoulders. She flinched back, realizing Yang Zhimian was right in front of her, studying her with concern. "Yang Jing. What's wrong?"

"She passed out earlier, Father," Yang Ming hurried to say. "We're worried it's something to do with the seal."

Yang Qinghui took a shuddering breath and squared her shoulders. She gently brushed Yang Zhimian's hands away. "To be blunt, I've lost some of my memories."

Yang Ming clapped a hand to her mouth with a horrified gasp.

Yang Zhimian's eyes narrowed. "Were you attacked? Ill?" His aura intensified, darkened. He seemed ready to tear apart anyone who had hurt Yang Qinghui.

"It was an illness, yes," Yang Qinghui leaped at the explanation. It was true, after all: the original Yang Qinghui had been sick just before Yan Jiayi had transmigrated.

Yang Zhimian's aura relaxed, although he still seemed agitated.

"I remember most things," Yang Qinghui continued, "but I forgot a lot as well. Including," she added dryly, "the fact you're a demon."

Yang Zhimian searched her expression carefully, then chuckled "I'm sure that was quite a shock, then." Patting Yang Ming's shoulder, he turned on his heel and gestured for his daughters to follow him. "Well, come inside. A-Ming and I will answer any questions you might have."

"Oh, jiejie." Tears were dripping from Yang Ming's eyes as she stared at Yang Qinghui.

"Hey, it's alright, meimei." Yang Qinghui hurried to reassure her sister. "I'm sure talking about our past will bring everything back to me." She looked up to see Yang Zhimian studying her curiously

Slightly consoled, Yang Ming allowed herself to be led to the main building.

"You're in luck," Yang Zhimian said, pushing open the door. "I was just having dinner. It's still warm, so dig in."

The main room was similarly decorated to Yang Ming's room in Huan Hua Palace: cushions, tapestries, and folding screens. A large, low table sat in the center, laden with steaming dishes and ringed with three plush sitting cushions.

Yang Qinghui sank onto the cushion across from Yang Ming, with Yang Zhimian at her left. All three served themselves from the steamed buns, soup, and meat-and-vegetable dishes, and began eating.

Several long moments passed, filled only with Yang Ming's occasional sniffling.

Then Yang Zhimian fixed Yang Qinghui with a piercing look, and asked, "If you didn't remember that I was a demon, did you forget that you are as well?"

Yang Qinghui swallowed the last bite of her dumpling. "I did. I assume my powers were sealed away somehow."

Yang Zhimian nodded. "Quite a strong seal, too. I'm not surprised you had no idea."

"I had some clues," Yang Qinghui said, a little defensively. "I still heal quickly." 

"Interesting," Yang Zhimian murmured.

Yang Qinghui felt exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. She quickly stuffed another steamed bun into her mouth.

"Perhaps your Heavenly Demon blood is too strong to be completely held back," Yang Zhimian mused, setting his chin on his hand.

Yang Qinghui nearly choked on her steamed bun. "H-Heavenly Demon?" she coughed out.

Yang Zhimian was a demon, yes, that much was obvious. But Yang Qinghui would've thought a Heavenly Demon would have a more… intense aura.

"Indeed." The skin around Yang Zhimian's eyes tightened. "Your mother was a Heavenly Demon."

"… Oh."

Yang Ming pushed aside her bowl with a sudden scraping. She laced her trembling hands together and stared at the table.

Then Yang Qinghui remembered something. The System had said Yang Zhimian was an exiled demon.

"We were exiled?" she asked.

"You remember that?" Yang Zhimian raised an eyebrow.

"Not much." She took a sip of tea, trying to get her thoughts in order. "Also, is Yang Ming a demon too, or what?"

Still staring at the table, Yang Ming shook her head. "No. I'm adopted, remember?"

Yang Zhimian tapped his chin. "Why don't I tell you about our past, from the very beginning? From when your mother and I first met."

Yang Qinghui nodded. "Sure. Maybe it'll help me remember," she added.

With a comfortable sigh, Yang Zhimian set his chopsticks down. "Well, when I was a much younger man, nearly forty years ago…"

Yang Qinghui thought some of this conversation might jumpstart a flashback or two, but so far she hadn't remembered anything from her past. Sliding her knees out from under her to sit more comfortably, and leaning over to hold Yang Ming's hand, Yang Qinghui settled in to listen to Yang Zhimian's story.