Female Consort Chapter 62: Fate

In the span of ten days, there was no word from Yang Qiu, but a reply did come from Chen Huichun. In response to Qiu Che’s doubts, he didn’t bother to conceal the truth.

He said plainly that when he heard the two of them had run into trouble, he suddenly remembered that the river had a branch that led toward the southern Yi border. His master, Elder Jiang, happened to reside in that area.

So, treating a dead horse as if it were still alive, he sent an urgent message to his master, asking him to keep an eye out for two unusually striking girls in the area.

If such people appeared, he asked that his master lend a hand, and allow them to stay for a while.

Upon learning all this, Qiu Che actually felt a bit relieved.

The only lingering question was: Why had Elder Jiang taken in so many children in Taoyuan Village? And why did he not appear to age?

Not even three days after finishing the foot therapy, Qiu Che finally received another message.

This one was from Yu Ming.

Currently, three factions within the court were locked in fierce conflict. Nightwatch City had people watching day and night to see if anyone was trying to take advantage of the chaos.

But nothing had come of it.

The mysterious figure behind the events seemed to have acted on a whim, once their plan was carried out, they vanished without a trace, as if they’d never existed.

The Emperor, on the other hand, appeared to be overwhelmed by the court ministers’ endless squabbling. He had even claimed illness during morning court today, whether it was true or not, no one knew.

The Empress Dowager, using the illness as an excuse to visit, ran into both the Crown Prince and the Third Prince at the palace gates, both of whom claimed they had come to tend to the Emperor. Yet all three were stopped outside the hall.

Word was that the Crown Prince’s temper had flared again recently, he’d even smashed several vases in the main hall of the East Palace.

As for the Court of Judicial Review, their investigation into the two girls' case remained fruitless. They couldn’t even explain why Yuan Fu had been there in the first place.

Qiu Che and Li Qingwu had been missing for over a month. By now, most had come to assume the worst, how else could they still not have returned?

Even the Emperor, while outwardly devastated by the disappearance of his daughter, had been quietly trying to persuade Madam Wang to hold a funeral and be done with it.

Fortunately, Madam Wang had caught wind of the truth early, she knew the girls were still alive, and had not held any such funeral rites.

But since the mastermind remained hidden, they couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

On the last day of crafting the bow, the two of them had already packed their belongings and were ready to return to the capital.

In the courtyard, Qiu Che carved the final stroke into the back of the bow with her carving knife, a tool she had honed daily, now nearly restored to its original sharpness. Credit was due as well to Li Qingwu, who had chosen the materials meticulously, cutting no corners.

The bow was sleek and elegant. Although it lacked coloring due to the absence of dye, it was still exquisitely crafted.

The moment Li Qingwu held it in her hands, she was utterly enchanted. She kept glancing at it as they made their way to Elder Jiang’s home, the joy in her eyes impossible to hide.

Qiu Che had originally intended to let her see it first, then take it back to apply the dye later, since it was still inconvenient to carry.

But Li Qingwu refused at once, firmly stating that the natural sandalwood tone was beautiful enough.

Qiu Che lowered her raised hand and watched as Li Qingwu hugged the bow to her chest like a precious treasure. She couldn’t help but laugh, helpless and amused.

When the two arrived at Elder Jiang’s home, he was surrounded by two or three middle-aged men, who were respectfully asking him questions.

Upon hearing footsteps, they stood up, and one of them greeted them with a warm smile: “Sister Ning, Miss Qingqing, what brings you both here to see Elder Jiang today?”

Qiu Che gave a simple bow. “Gentlemen… Elder Jiang, we’ve come to say our farewells.”

The group looked surprised and hadn’t yet asked any questions when Elder Jiang, as if expecting it, handed back the book on the stone table. “All right, that’s about all there is to say about the seed drill. If you’re planning to build one, you’ll need to study it further…”

They all nodded and agreed. Since Elder Jiang was present, they refrained from asking further questions. As they left, they each gave the girls a regretful but friendly smile. “Come back and visit when you have the time.”

“We will.”

After they had all left in twos and threes, Elder Jiang finally picked up his cracked old bowl filled with snow lotus tea, blew on it gently, and said calmly, “Sit.”

Despite his simple, somewhat worn clothing, he carried an unshakable air of tranquility and wisdom, like an otherworldly sage, drawing attention wherever he went.

Qiu Che didn’t stand during the ceremony and pulled Li Qingwu down to sit. “Were they asking about the seed drill again?”

“Mhm.”

“Elder Jiang, you know so much.” Qiu Che nodded, her tone light, though it was unclear if she meant anything more. “You don’t look much older than them, but you seem to know just about everything.”

“When you’ve lived long enough on your own, you naturally end up knowing things,” Elder Jiang said casually, brushing some dust from his sleeve. As he spoke, his long white beard trembled with each word. “My age, if I told you, would surely shock you.”

Qiu Che was intrigued. “If Elder Jiang is willing to share, I’d be happy to listen.”

“This old man is…” He paused, calculated with a finger, then said, “Over a hundred years old now.”

Qiu Che was truly stunned. She exchanged a glance with Li Qingwu, neither could tell if he was joking.

In this era, a healthy man typically didn’t live past fifty. To live to a hundred and still appear no older than seventy was remarkable.

Elder Jiang chuckled. “Hard to believe, I know. But there’s no need to hide it… In my younger days, I was one of the medicine slaves of the Southern Yi Saintess, do you know what a medicine slave is?”

Qiu Che straightened up slightly and answered solemnly, “…A person used to test poisons?”

“More precisely, a slave used for testing medicine and poisons.”

“I was one of them.”

Outsiders only knew that the Southern Yi were skilled in poison and witchcraft, but they didn’t know that this wasn’t a natural gift.

Over the years, that twisted society had long since rotted from within under the pursuit of power. What remained was hollow.

In the Southern Yi, poison was everything. The most talented practitioners were worshipped as rulers. To compete for the titles of Saint or Saintess, princes and princesses were each assigned a dedicated medicine slave from a young age.

These slaves existed solely so the royals could practice their poison techniques at will.

Candidates were chosen for their youth, good health, and some natural resistance to toxins. All were Southern Yi slaves, and they had to be orphans.

Elder Jiang had been one of them.

Slaves couldn’t resist, and orphans had no family to seek justice.

Many were raised from childhood under the hands of royal children, but few lived to adulthood.

Elder Jiang survived by sheer willpower, watching his companions die one after another from poison.

By the time the fourth Saint ascended the throne, Jiang was over seventy, and still in perfect health.

As the only medicine slave to have served four generations of royal heirs, he had earned some status. He went from serving princes and princesses to personally attending the now-enthroned Saints.

Usually, at that point, the torture would lessen, the Saints, having secured power, would no longer practice so frequently.

But whenever Jiang saw the blank, pained expressions of the young orphans, he couldn’t help but recall his own youth, and the friends who hadn’t made it.

Still, he was a slave, barely able to protect himself.

So when one of the boys he mentored, one of the few who respected him, escaped the palace and came seeking help, Jiang turned him away.

When guards searched his home, Jiang pretended not to see the boy’s pleading eyes. He kept his head turned, chatting idly with the captain of the guards.

Later, he heard whispers that the boy had been sentenced to be drawn and quartered.

That night, and many nights after, Jiang dreamed of that child, limbs torn, head severed, still smiling and skipping as he whispered:

“Elder Jiang… why didn’t you save me?”

“You deserve to be a slave.”

“You deserve to be a medicine slave forever, with no freedom.”

Perhaps it was a curse, or perhaps it was guilt, but in the end, the words came true.

The next Saintess, chosen from the royal family’s fifth generation, was the younger sister of the fourth Saint. Her name was Shen Xiao.

Serving her was far easier than the others.

She hated her brother and had fought tooth and nail to become Saintess just to spite him.

Stubborn and strangely innocent, she refused to harm the weak. She tested poisons only on wild animals.

She often said, “We’re all people. Why divide us into nobles and slaves?”

She loved to cook, and sometimes she’d make flower cakes and share them with the medicine slaves to show her gratitude.

Jiang grew very fond of her.

Over time, as they got closer, she told him that she planned to drag her brother down from the throne and take his place, to change their broken land…

He didn’t even have time to grieve the loss of a rare and kind master before being thrown right back into his old life as a slave. This time, he was discarded into the household of a commoner, forced to toil like a beast of burden, treated no better than livestock, beaten and cursed at constantly.

In the Southern Yi, where slavery ran rampant, such a fate was far from uncommon.

But Uncle Jiang was already an old man. He had survived countless poison trials in the palace, yet this kind of brutal treatment was beyond what his body could endure.

One day, he finally reached his limit. Seizing the chance, he fled from that household.

, Just like that child who once escaped the palace long ago.

In that instant, their fates seemed to overlap in a strange, fateful echo.

Uncle Jiang didn’t dare stop. Ragged and destitute, he begged his way northward, toward the borderlands, just wanting to get as far from the Southern Yi capital as he possibly could.

Eventually, he took a wrong turn and wandered into a dense forest.

Half-conscious with hunger and exhaustion, he nearly passed out.

In desperation, he plucked a flower and stuffed it into his mouth.

By sheer luck, that forest belonged to the Southern Yi’s wilderness, and the flower he had eaten was the legendary Tengshou Grass.

He survived.

But fate has its own cruel humor, Tengshou Grass was not meant to be consumed raw.

He had swallowed a divine herb whole. Even though his body was already immune to most poisons, he still fell into a high fever for three days, drifting in and out of delirium. Yet somewhere in his foggy mind, he still remembered: he couldn’t stop. If he stopped, he’d be dragged back into slavery.

When he was hungry, he gnawed on the roots. When he was thirsty, he crawled to the river to drink. In this muddled state, he staggered forward, until he finally reached the banks of a river.

Looking up, though it was clearly the season of autumn’s waning moon, he found himself surrounded by peach trees in full bloom. An endless sea of Taoyuans covered the mountains.

Countless peach petals floated in the river, tinting the crystal-clear water a soft, rosy hue.

It felt like a paradise.

This place was hard to enter but easy to leave. Once someone had entered, even if they forgot the path, they could always find their way back. But for those who’d never been here, unless led by someone familiar, this hidden paradise was almost impossible to find.

Uncle Jiang settled down there.

His body, already robust, couldn’t absorb the full medicinal effects of the Tengshou Grass. Instead, the herb remedies another of his weaknesses, 

It drastically slowed his aging.

So much so that, within a year, his body simply… stopped aging altogether.

It was as if time had forgotten him. Even the silver strands at his temples never grew another inch.

He still looked human, but his hair and nails no longer needed cutting, and he no longer needed food, water alone could sustain him.

He was human, yet not quite human.

The immortality countless mortals dreamed of had come to him entirely by accident.

But to someone who had only ever sought freedom, it was more punishment than gift, he could not die, yet found no joy in living.

What was honey to others… was arsenic to him.

At first, he didn’t realize it. But when it finally hit him that he was truly free, he found himself dazed.

Then came the joy, wild and unrestrained, only to be swiftly drowned by the flood of loneliness and uncertainty.

After a life spent in servitude, he no longer remembered what it meant to live like a normal person, much less how to live.

He began to recall fragments of his youth, old companions, and that boy who had died so miserably because he, Uncle Jiang, had looked away.

Years of buried guilt came crashing down on him like a mountain. Whether it was because he was now free with nothing to do, or because he sought redemption for his past apathy, he couldn’t say.

Once he realized he could neither age nor die, he began to travel from time to time. Outside of the Southern Yi, he roamed nearly every country, north and south.

With the medical skills he had secretly learned while serving in the imperial palace, he managed to feed himself, and over time, began bringing back orphaned children.

Some were still in swaddling clothes, others already in their teens.

Chen Huichun had been one of the first children he took in, around the age of thirteen or fourteen.

Onto these children, he poured all his guilt, nurturing them like great trees with his shade, hoping to protect them as they grew up safe and carefree.

It was as if he were saving the helpless, confused child he once had been.

Or perhaps… he was making amends to the boy who had once sought refuge in him, only to be betrayed.

Uncle Jiang once said, “These children, some grow up and leave, others stay behind. Whether they go or stay, I leave it to them.”

To someone like him, with a life that stretched endlessly toward an unknown end, even a single encounter was a rare and precious bond.

When Uncle Jiang finished telling his story, Qiu Che and Li Qingwu were silent for a long time.

The truth was so simple, and yet so deeply moving, it left them at a loss for words.

No wonder Uncle Jiang was immune to poison. No wonder he recognized Tengshou Grass. No wonder he had said he had no intentions of coveting anything.

So that was why.

After a long pause, Qiu Che exhaled softly and said carefully, “As you can see… it’s time for us to leave as well.”

Uncle Jiang didn’t press them. He simply asked, “No need to stay and rest?”

Qiu Che moved her arm and smiled, “I’m almost fully recovered.”

“You’re not going to tell Xiaoya and the others?”

Xiaoya was one of the little girls, always following Li Qingwu around and calling her “Fairy Sister.”

Li Qingwu smiled too. “If they knew, they’d be sad. Better to slip away quietly.”

“That’s fine,” Uncle Jiang nodded, sipping the now-lukewarm tea in his bowl. “To leave Taoyuan Village, just follow the peach river straight ahead. Don’t take any side paths, and you’ll end up in Liangzhou.”

“From Liangzhou, just find a carriage. Anywhere you want to go after that will only take a few days at most.”

“You’re not going to ask us anything?” Qiu Che asked. “You’re just letting us go like this?”

She thought he’d at least question why they were in such a hurry.

Uncle Jiang looked at her, puzzled. “Should I not?”

Qiu Che had assumed that even if he saved them at his disciple’s request, there would still be a price.

But looking at Uncle Jiang’s expression now… and thinking back to everything he’d said, 

It seemed she’d simply spent too long in the schemes and treachery of court life, too used to suspecting everyone of ulterior motives.

Realizing this, Qiu Che gave a slight nod and said nothing more. She and Li Qingwu stood and bowed once again.

“Then, thank you for saving our lives. If there is ever a chance to repay you in the future, we won’t hesitate.”

“Until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again.”

But of course, when people say such things, it usually means they won’t meet again.

Qiu Che didn’t know what Uncle Jiang was thinking. She turned naturally, taking Li Qingwu’s hand. But after just a few steps, she suddenly turned back.

“Uncle Jiang.”

Uncle Jiang, holding his tea bowl, was caught off guard. “...What is it?”

“Perhaps immortality isn’t a punishment,” Qiu Che said with a faint smile. “Maybe… it’s Heaven’s way of preserving your kind heart, so that your compassion can bless others a while longer.”

Uncle Jiang gave a bitter smile. But when he looked up again, the two slim figures had already vanished into the distance.

Beneath the peach trees, one dressed in green, one in crimson.

Their fingers interlaced, they walked in perfect harmony.

Uncle Jiang sat beneath the tree for a while longer, melancholic. Sending off those who pass through his life, it seemed to be his fate.

He should have been used to it by now, but farewells always left the heart heavy.

If those little rascals knew, they’d be sad for days.

Thinking this, Uncle Jiang pushed himself up with his cane and slowly walked back to the little house where the two had stayed, intending to tidy up for the next child he might bring home.

But when he opened the wooden door and stepped inside, he found a bundle sitting on the table.

He untied it. A jumble of items spilled out.

Rouge, lip balm, a small wooden sword, paper gold ingots, a carved wooden boat… even Taoyuan cakes. An eclectic, colorful collection.

Each item was carefully wrapped in cloth or tucked in boxes, clearly handmade over several days.

Qiu Che had only needed five days to finish her bow.

The rest of the time, she and Li Qingwu had spent making gifts, for old friends, and little ones.

Uncle Jiang stared for a long time, then opened the box of Taoyuan cakes and took a bite.

They were beautiful, with delicate carvings of Taoyuans on top.

But the taste… was an utter disaster. His face twisted on instinct.

One bite was enough to know, this one must have been made by Qiu Che.

Yet the next moment, Uncle Jiang sighed, then laughed.

For a split second, he remembered the vibrant young Saintess Shen Xiao from decades ago.

She too had made flower cakes just like this. The taste wasn’t much different.

Come to think of it, that girl Qingqing did look a little like Shen Xiao...

Uncle Jiang gazed out the window at the peach trees that bloom year-round, watching the petals drift down as always, and thought wistfully, 

So this is what parting really feels like…... does not only leave sadness