Nine Nights Owl Song

Su Wan'er hasn't slept for three days.

She lay on the bed in the west courtyard, the curtains hanging low, the brocade quilt wrapped tightly around her chin, but she still felt cold.

The cold didn't seep in from the outside; it seeped out from between her bones, as if someone had drained her marrow and filled it with ice water.

She stared wide-eyed at the lotus scroll pattern embroidered on the top of the tent. The lotus flowers were sometimes blurry and sometimes clear in her eyes. She could no longer tell whether she was awake or dreaming.

Footsteps could be heard outside.

It was several people, their footsteps hurried and heavy, passing over the veranda; the sound grew closer and closer.

She thought they were almost at her door, her heart leaping into her throat—then the footsteps faded into the distance, gradually disappearing on the other side of the courtyard wall.

Su Wan'er sat up abruptly, panting heavily. Her forehead was covered in cold sweat, and her undergarments were soaked through, clinging to her body and feeling icy cold.

She reached for the teacup on the bedside table, but her fingers trembled so badly that the teacup spun twice between her fingers before slipping from her grasp, spilling water all over the floor. The teacup rolled twice on the floor before hitting the table leg and coming to a stop.

She looked at the teacup and the puddle of water on the ground, and suddenly felt that the shape of the puddle of water looked exactly like a person kneeling and kowtowing.

Her tears flowed silently.

Three days have passed, and the manor has been turned upside down.

Old Liu, the gatekeeper, was locked up; Aunt Zhao, the kitchen worker, was taken away; Madam Wu, the seamstress, was expelled from the mansion; Accountant Sun, the storeroom worker, was sent to the Jingzhao Prefecture; and Chunlan was locked in the woodshed.

One group of people after another were summoned to the main hall, and another group of people knelt in the courtyard. Their cries, pleas for mercy, and kowtows could be heard even through several courtyards.

The Marquis unleashed his furious rage, and half of the Marquis's mansion collapsed.

Su Wan'er knew what had happened.

She knew it from the day Su Jiuge first stepped into the Marquis's mansion.

That girl in black with a black knife, exuding a cold aura, that person with the features of the lady in her youth, yet more ruthless than anyone else, is the real Su Jiuge.

And she, Su Wan'er, was nothing more than a counterfeit, brought from the countryside to take the place of the deceased legitimate daughter.

She got up, put on an outer garment, walked to the window, and opened it a crack.

The courtyard was quiet. The maids had disappeared, and even the cleaning lady was nowhere to be seen.

The pomegranate tree had lost all its leaves, its bare branches swaying gently in the cold wind, like a pair of withered hands beckoning to her. Su Wan'er shivered and closed the window.

She walked back to the bedside and sat down, reaching under the pillow to pull something out—a handkerchief.

The handkerchief was a gift from Madam Shen last year. It had a lotus-root-colored background and an orchid embroidered on the corner, with fine stitches, indicating that Madam Shen had embroidered it herself. Su Wan'er clutched the handkerchief tightly in her hand, her knuckles turning white.

She remembered that spring.

She was five years old that year, living in a dilapidated courtyard in the countryside of Bingzhou, where she depended on her grandmother for survival.

My grandmother was a distant relative of the Zhou family. She had lost her husband and son, and only had one granddaughter—that was her.

Life was hard; they couldn't eat meat even once a year. In winter, they had no cotton-padded clothes to wear, so their grandmother would put all her tattered clothes on her, wrap herself in a tattered cotton quilt, and huddle by the stove to warm herself.

Then the Zhou family arrived.

A woman dressed in silk, accompanied by two maids, arrived in a carriage and stopped in front of her house.

The woman squatted down, pinched her face, looked her up and down, and said to her grandmother, "This child is quite handsome. If we take her to the Marquis's mansion, the madam will surely take a liking to her."

Grandmother was unwilling.

The woman placed a silver ingot on the table. It was ten taels, heavy and gleaming white. My grandmother had never seen so much silver in her life.

"Take this to support your old age. This child will be a daughter of the Marquis's family in the future, living a life of luxury, much better than if she stayed with you." The grandmother looked at the silver ingot, then at her, tears falling, but she still nodded.

Su Wan'er didn't blame her grandmother.

At five years old, she didn't understand what a "marquis's mansion" or an "adopted daughter" meant. She only knew that the woman had changed her into new clothes, washed her face, combed her hair, and put pearl flowers in her hair before leading her through a very, very big door.

There were brass rings on the door, with patterns she didn't recognize carved on them.

Inside the door stood a woman wearing a light purple jacket, her eyes red and swollen from crying, her left eye somewhat unfocused, but when she looked at her, her eyes suddenly lit up.

"From today onwards, she is my daughter," Ms. Shen said.

"Her name is Su Wan'er."

Su Wan'er still remembers the feeling when Madam Shen picked her up.

Those hands were warm and soft, carrying a faint scent of osmanthus, holding her tightly in their arms as if they were holding the most precious thing in the world.

She had never been held like this by anyone since she was five years old. Her grandmother was too old to carry her anymore.

In Shen's arms, she felt safe, needed, and loved.

She had longed for that feeling for ten years.

But she knew that this feeling was stolen.

She didn't know when she was five, she vaguely knew some things when she was seven, and Aunt Zhou told her herself when she was ten.

"You are not Madam's biological daughter; you were just brought from the countryside. Your grandmother took money from the Zhou family and sold you to the Marquis's mansion. You must be obedient, filial to Madam, and treat her as your own mother. If you disobey, I will send you back to that dilapidated courtyard."

From then on, Su Wan'er became a different person.

She lived cautiously, not daring to say a wrong word or do a wrong thing, nor daring to show the slightest disrespect to the lady.

But her filial piety towards Shen was not feigned; she truly loved Shen, the woman who had given her warmth and protection.

But her fear of Aunt Zhou was real, a fear that kept her awake at night, a fear that was like a snake coiled in her heart.

She was afraid of Aunt Zhou.

She was also afraid of Su Jiuge.

What was she afraid of Su Jiuge about? She couldn't say for sure.

Su Jiuge never hit her, never scolded her, and never even looked at her directly.

Last time in the main hall, Su Jiuge only glanced at her once—just once, so briefly that almost no one else in the main hall noticed.

But Su Wan'er understood what was in that one glance.

It wasn't anger, hatred, or even hostility.

It's just disgusting.

It's like seeing a cockroach crawling in a rice bowl, like smelling a long-rotten corpse, like stepping on a sticky stain that you don't know what it is.

Disgusting without any embellishment.

Su Wan'er saw herself in that one glance—

In Su Jiuge's eyes, she was not "someone who took her place," not "an innocent victim," and not someone worthy of sympathy or pity.

She's just a cockroach.

An unwanted thing that shouldn't be there.

This feeling terrified her more than any beating or scolding.

Su Wan'er sat on the edge of the bed, clutching a handkerchief. Tears fell drop by drop onto the lotus-colored handkerchief, spreading into dark circles.

She doesn't know what she is now.

The Marquis didn't order her to leave, and the Madam didn't say she disowned her, but the way everyone in the manor looked at her had changed. The usual respect and attentiveness were gone, replaced by a scrutinizing gaze that left her nowhere to hide, as if to say—

"So you were a fake after all."

Even the maids in her courtyard had a subtly different attitude.

Serving tea and water used to be done willingly, but now it's become a task to be completed. The gesture may still be on their face, but the emotion in their eyes is gone.

Everything I used to have has changed.

Su Wan'er wanted to leave, but she didn't dare to.

She is afraid.

They feared they would have nowhere to go after leaving the Marquis's residence.

Her grandmother was already dead, and the dilapidated courtyard in Bingzhou had long since collapsed. The Zhou family would never take her in—to them, she was now a useless pawn, easily discarded.

She wanted to stay, but she didn't dare to.

She was afraid of Su Jiuge.

She feared that those cold eyes would fall on her again, even just for a glance, as it would be a heart-wrenching pain.

Su Wan'er covered her face with a handkerchief and cried silently for a long time.

Footsteps suddenly came from the courtyard.

They walked in slowly.

Su Wan'er suddenly raised her head, stuffed the handkerchief under her pillow, quickly wiped the tears from her face, straightened her clothes, took a deep breath, forced herself to stand up, and walked towards the door.

A person pushed the door open and came in.

It's not Su Jiuge.

It is the Shen family.

Su Wan'er's legs went weak, and she almost knelt down.

She steadied herself against the doorframe, her voice trembling, barely audible:

"Mother……"

Shen stood at the door, looking at her.

Shen looked terrible; her eyes were dark and her lips were bloodless, and she seemed completely drained.

Her left eye was more unfocused than her right eye—she had cried countless times in the past three days, and her already half-blind eye was probably even blinder now.

Su Wan'er looked at Shen's face and her heart clenched.

She didn't know if Shen had come to kick her out, to scold her, or to laugh at her.

She knew nothing; she simply stood there, waiting for Madam Shen to speak.

Shen remained silent for a long time, so long that Su Wan'er thought time had frozen.

"Wan'er."

Shen finally spoke, her voice hoarse and weary, but gentler than Su Wan'er had imagined.

"Pack your things and move to the room next to mine."

Su Wan'er was stunned.

I'm worried about you living here alone.

Ms. Shen said, "Moving there will be closer to me, so I can take care of things if anything happens."

Su Wan'er's tears welled up again; this time, she couldn't hold back them.

She knelt down with a thud, her knees hitting the cold brick floor. The pain made her shudder, but she ignored it and just knelt there, crying and trembling.

"Mother... I'm sorry... Wan'er knows I'm not your biological daughter... Wan'er is an imposter... Wan'er has known she's an imposter since she was seven... But Wan'er... Wan'er dares not say it... Wan'er is afraid that if she says it, you will abandon Wan'er..."

She cried so hard she could barely breathe, her words slurred and broken, like a tattered piece of cloth that could never be pieced back together.

Shen squatted down, reached out, and pulled Su Wan'er into her arms.

Su Wan'er cried even harder, burying herself in Shen's arms, just like when Shen first hugged her when she was five years old, clinging tightly and refusing to let go.

Shen patted her back gently and slowly, as if comforting a frightened child.

"Of course I know you're not my biological child."

Shen's voice drifted softly into Su Wan'er's ears, "I knew it from day one."

She looked up at Shen Shi through teary eyes, her lips moving as if she wanted to say something, but her throat felt like it was blocked by something.

"The day you came, you were five years old, wearing faded old clothes, with a wildflower in your hair that you didn't know where you picked, and mud stains on your face."

Shen's voice was very soft, as if afraid of disturbing something, "I know you are not my child. My child, even if alive, would not have been brought from the countryside, nor would she be a distant relative of Aunt Zhou, nor would she be a five-year-old child who already knows how to read people's faces."

"Then...then why...?"

"Because I need a child," Ms. Shen said, tears streaming down her face and down her haggard cheeks.

"My daughter died, I cried until I went blind in one eye, my world collapsed. I needed a child to keep me alive. You came, you called me mother, you let me hold you, you had a lovely osmanthus scent on you, from that day on, you were my daughter."

Su Wan'er looked at Madam Shen, at those bloodshot eyes. There was no blame, no disgust, not even a trace of pity in those eyes. Only love.

"You're not fake." Madam Shen cupped her face and wiped away her tears with her thumb.

"You are my daughter. I raised you for ten years, and you called me 'Mother' for ten years. These ten years of affection are genuine. You are Wan'er, not a substitute for Jiu Ge, nor a replacement for anyone. You are my daughter."

Su Wan'er could no longer utter a word; she just cried and cried, releasing all the fear, grievances, unease, and anxiety she had accumulated over the past ten years.

Shen hugged her and cried too. The two women embraced and wept in the side room of the west courtyard for a very long time.

Su Jiuge stood outside the courtyard gate, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, listening to the crying without moving.

She came here to find Su Wan'er—not to make things difficult for her, but because she had something she wanted to say to her.

But when she heard Shen's voice coming from inside the house, she stopped in her tracks.

She didn't go in.

She stood outside the courtyard gate for a while, listening to the intermittent crying and Shen's gentle comforting voice from inside the house, her expression remaining unchanged.

But she turned and left without disturbing them.

She walked along the veranda of the Marquis's mansion, her pace neither fast nor slow. Her dark gray short brown coat fluttered slightly in the wind, and the straight sword at her waist swayed gently with each step, occasionally colliding with the white jade pendant at her waist, producing a soft tinkling sound.

She didn't know how to describe that feeling.

It wasn't jealousy—she wasn't jealous of Su Wan'er, and she had no possessiveness towards the Shen family.

It wasn't envy—she didn't envy anyone, not even herself.

It's not about feeling sad—she's long since stopped feeling sad about her past.

What is it? She couldn't say.

But when she heard Madam Shen say "You are my daughter," she was reminded of something from a long time ago.

The warmth of the old drunkard tucking her into his arms on a snowy night; the image of the old drunkard breaking the only cornbread in the abandoned residential area in half and stuffing the larger half into her hand; the look in the old drunkard's eyes as he looked at her before he died, a cloudy and unfocused look that remained fixed on her.

Shen is Su Wan'er's mother, not her.

The old drunkard was hers—no, the old drunkard wasn't her father either.

The old drunkard was just an old beggar who picked her up, taught her martial arts, gave her a name, and then risked his life to give her a chance to live.

She has no father, no mother, and no home.

She had an old drunkard, but the old drunkard is dead.

She has a knife, but the knife can't speak, can't hug her, and can't say, "You are my daughter."

Su Jiuge touched the jade pendant at her waist.

The white jade was warm and smooth; it was given to her by Madam Shen.

She didn't know how to react to this gentle warmth.

She never learned how to be a daughter, just as she never learned how to be a normal person.

She had only learned how to kill, how to survive, and how to walk in the dark.

Su Jiuge quickened her pace and left the Marquis's residence.

Outside the mansion gate, the sky was overcast, with dark clouds hanging low, as if it were about to snow.

Su Jiuge stood on the steps of the Marquis's mansion, raised her head, and looked at the gray sky. A cold wind blew in from the alley entrance, making her robes flutter and causing a few strands of her tied-up hair to fall loose and flutter in the wind.

coming.

She sensed it.

She felt a cold, sharp sensation, like a needle point pressed against the back of her neck.

murderous look.

It wasn't just one person; there were at least three.

They were all hidden in the alley opposite the Marquis's mansion, hidden in the shadows of the houses, and hidden behind the roof ridges.

Their auras were very strong, stronger than any opponent she had ever encountered in the Dark Pavilion.

The Blood Hall's top assassin, a late-stage Transformation Realm expert.

Three people, three different directions, blocked all her possible escape routes.

Su Jiuge did not turn around, nor did she make any unnecessary movements.

She simply stood there, like a statue, letting the cold wind blow from all directions.

She wasn't afraid of them.

It wasn't because she could win the fight, but because her killer instincts told her—now was not the time to act.

The main street leads to the entrance of the Marquis's residence, where pedestrians, vendors, and children can be seen.

Once she makes a move, she can suppress a late-stage Transformation Realm assassin within three moves, but what about the other two?

Where would they run to? Would they break into the Marquis's mansion during the fight? Would they take people on the street hostage? Would they attack the people inside the mansion?

Su Jiuge didn't care about the pedestrians on the street.

But she couldn't involve the Marquis's mansion.

It wasn't because she loved the people in the Marquis's mansion, but because the Marquis's mansion was her bargaining chip, her capital to fight against the Zhou family, and one of her few—perhaps her only—foundations in this world.

She couldn't let the Blood Hall people destroy it.

She turned around and, instead of returning to the Marquis's residence, walked towards the outside of Chongren Ward.

Her pace was neither fast nor slow, and her demeanor was composed, like that of an ordinary passerby.

But she didn't take a straight route—she turned into a narrow alley, passed through a vegetable market, and crossed a stone bridge, making several turns and deliberately choosing to walk in crowded areas, so as not to give the three men a chance to make a move.

Three people followed her.

She could sense their presence, which remained at a distance of about thirty feet, neither too close nor too far, like three wolves stalking their prey, not in a hurry to pounce, but simply waiting for their prey to move to a suitable place.

Su Jiuge traversed most of Luojing City, from the East Market to the West Market, and from the West Market to the South Gate.

As we exited the south gate, it was getting dark, and the city gate was about to close. Several soldiers were urging pedestrians to hurry up.

Su Jiuge left the city.

She walked on the official road, went south for about a mile, and then turned onto a side road.

The path leads to a grove of trees, beyond which lies a barren mountain.

The three men followed them in.

Su Jiuge stopped in the woods, turned around, and faced the three shadows that emerged from the shadows.

three people.

Two men and one woman.

The man was tall and burly, with broad shoulders and a thick waist. He carried a horse-slaying saber that was half the length of an ordinary sword. The blade was thick and the edge had faint dark red patterns on it—it was a blood-stained saber.

The other person was thin and withered, like a bamboo pole. He had no weapon in his hand, but his ten fingernails were sharpened and painted black—those were poisonous scorpions.

The woman's age was indiscernible; she had a seductive figure, her face was veiled in black, and she carried nothing in her hands. However, her gait was strange—she stepped on the same spot with every step, without making a sound—a ghostly figure.

The Blood Hall's three top assassins are all here.

Blood Blade sized Su Jiuge up and down, then grinned. His teeth were uneven, a mix of yellow and black, making him look like a snarling wild dog when he smiled.

"You're Night Owl?" His voice was rough and hoarse.

"Smaller than I imagined. A little girl worth 100,000 taels of silver, this is a good deal."

Scorpion didn't speak, but his eyes kept moving, from Su Jiuge's face to her neck, and from her neck to her wrist, as if searching for a place to insert a needle.

The ghostly figure didn't speak. She stood there like a lifeless wooden stake, her breathing almost inaudible.

Su Jiuge looked at them, her hand on the hilt of her sword, but she did not draw it.

"This is near the main road," she said, her voice as calm as if she were talking about something insignificant.

"It's less than ten miles from Luoyang. The city's garrison patrols every half hour, and last time they arrived, it took less than a quarter of an hour. If you make a move here, it will take at least the time it takes to brew a cup of tea to finish me off. By then, the city's garrison will have already arrived. You are top-notch assassins; you should know what it means to clash head-on with the imperial court's regular army."

Blood Blade's smile froze for a moment.

The scorpion's eyes paused for a moment.

The ghost's breathing became heavier.

Su Jiuge knew that what she said would not make them give up.

A top-tier assassin isn't someone who can be intimidated by a few words. But he can make them hesitate.

With just a moment's hesitation, she could find a weakness and escape from the combined attack of the three of them.

"Let's go somewhere else," Su Jiuge said.

"Tomorrow at noon, at Eagle's Sorrow Gorge, thirty miles outside Luoyang. I will come alone. All three of you will come. A fair duel, life or death. If you win, you will receive 100,000 taels of silver. If you lose, you will leave your lives behind."

The three people looked at each other in bewilderment.

Blood Blade opened her mouth as if to say something, but Ghost Shadow spoke first. Her voice was hoarse and low, like a piece of iron polished with sandpaper—

"it is good."

Then she turned and walked into the shadows of the woods. The scorpion followed behind her.

Blood Blade glanced at Su Jiuge, grinned, slung his broadsword over his shoulder, and strode away.

Silence returned to the woods.

Su Jiuge leaned against the tree trunk and let out a long breath.

Her back was soaked with cold sweat.

It wasn't fear; she had been in the Dark Pavilion for eight years and didn't know what fear felt like anymore.

But her body was clearer than her mind. The killing intent released by those three people at the same time caused her body, which was at the mid-stage of the Transformation Realm, to react instinctively.

Cold sweat, racing heart, tense muscles.

These are all signs that her body is telling her – you can't beat the three of them working together.

We can't beat them, at least not right now.

Su Jiuge closed her eyes and stood in the darkness for a while.

Then she opened her eyes and walked towards the direction of Luojing City.

Tomorrow at noon, at Eagle's Sorrow Gorge.

A fierce battle.

She didn't know if she would come back alive.

But there was one thing she knew—she would not let any of the people sent by the Blood Hall to kill her go.

It wasn't because of the 100,000 taels of silver reward, but because they dared to come.

The owl's knife is never picky about its prey.