Nine Nights Owl Song

As night deepened, the lights in the Marquis of Dingyuan's mansion were extinguished one by one, plunging the entire residence into darkness.

Su Jiuge had been lying on her bed for over an hour, her eyes still open.

It's not that I can't sleep, it's that I don't want to sleep.

Tomorrow is her birthday, her first birthday in sixteen years, and she's afraid she'll wake up to find it's all a dream.

Shen's tears are a dream, the old drunkard's life is a dream, and the Marquis of Dingyuan's mansion is a dream.

The night breeze slipped in through the cracks in the window, causing the curtains to sway gently.

Su Jiuge turned over, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and looked at the lotus pattern embroidered on the curtain.

The lotus flowers were indistinguishable in the darkness, but their outlines remained, one by one, forming a vast expanse, like a sea of ​​flowers she had seen somewhere before.

She suddenly wondered, where would she be now if the old drunkard hadn't picked her up from the snow back then?

Perhaps he died long ago, in the snow of a mass grave, devoured by wild dogs until not even his bones were left.

Perhaps she was discovered and buried. Countless nameless infants are buried in the mass graves outside Luojing City; one more won't make a difference.

Perhaps they become lost souls, weeping in the wind and snow every night, with no one to hear them.

The old drunkard picked her up. He gave her a name, taught her to read, taught her martial arts, and shared his wine with her.

Although the liquor was incredibly strong, and she coughed every time she drank it, the old drunkard said...

"You can only live if you can drink alcohol," so she drank it.

She drank until she was seven, until she developed an immunity to strong liquor, until she could drink a whole glass of arsenic without batting an eye during the poison test in the Dark Pavilion—others thought she was immune to all poisons, but in reality, she had just developed a resistance from being forced to drink by old alcoholics since childhood.

Su Jiuge remembered something.

When she was four years old, the old drunkard handed her a gourd of wine, and she took a sip and cried because it was so spicy.

The old drunkard laughed heartily, then picked her up and placed her on his lap, wiping away her tears with his rough, calloused hands.

"Girl, don't cry. There's nothing in this world that a sip of alcohol can't overcome. If one sip isn't enough, try two." She didn't understand then, but she does now. Alcohol isn't for numbing yourself; it's for proving you're still alive.

Su Jiuge sat up, her bare feet touching the cold ground. She walked to the window, pushed it open, and a cold wind rushed in. The pomegranate tree in the courtyard was bare, its branches gleaming silvery-white in the moonlight. She stood by the window, wearing only her undergarments, gazing at the pomegranate tree for a long time.

In the guest room of the east courtyard, the old drunkard was also awake. He lay on the bed covered with three layers of thick mattresses, his body sinking into the soft bedding like a stone wrapped in cotton.

He had never slept on such a soft bed in his life. When he was in the Dark Pavilion, he slept on stone slabs; when he was on the run, he slept in caves and dilapidated temples; and when he was in the abandoned residential area, he slept on mud and straw.

He thought he would never lie in a bed like that again in his life. Not because he couldn't sleep in it, but because he felt he didn't deserve it.

He remembered that winter, the first winter after he found Su Jiuge.

The snow in the abandoned residential area was much heavier than this year, and the wind was like a knife. He held her in his arms and wrapped her in his tattered cotton-padded coat.

She was very small and light, like a kitten, nestled motionless in his arms. He thought she was frozen, but when he looked down, he saw her bright black eyes looking at him.

"Girl, are you cold?" he asked.

She looked at him for a long time, then buried her face in his chest, her little hands clutching his clothes tightly.

The old drunkard closed his eyes. At that time, she wasn't afraid of the cold or hunger, but she was afraid that he wouldn't want her anymore.

He coughed a few times, his throat itching terribly, and covered his mouth, trying to stifle his cough. The handkerchief covering his mouth showed dark red bloodstains seeping onto the mauve-colored fabric, like a dark red flower. He wiped his mouth with the handkerchief, folded it again, and tucked it back into his robes. He couldn't let the girl see; it was her birthday tomorrow, and he couldn't let her worry.

West Courtyard.

Su Wan'er lay in bed, unable to sleep.

She didn't leave her room today, not because she didn't want to, but because she was afraid to.

Su Jiuge returned, bringing two people with her: an old beggar and a gaunt middle-aged man.

Su Jiuge said that the old beggar was her savior and would be living in the Marquis's mansion from today onwards. Anyone with objections, speak now. No one had any objections.

Su Wan'er dared not have any objections.

It wasn't that she was afraid of Su Jiuge; it was that she felt she had no right to have an opinion.

What qualifications does she have?

She was an adopted daughter who was picked up from the street, while Su Jiuge was the true legitimate daughter.

Her benefactor was Aunt Zhou—the one who ruined Su Jiuge's life.

Su Jiuge's benefactor was the old beggar—the one who saved Su Jiuge's life.

Su Wan'er buried her face in the pillow, silently shedding tears, not daring to cry out loud.

She was afraid that Su Jiuge would hear it, and she was also afraid that Shen Shi would hear it.

Mrs. Shen was very happy today, as if she had become ten years younger.

Su Wan'er didn't want to cause trouble for Madam Shen because of her crying.

Su Wan'er cried for a while, then took out the handkerchief from under her pillow. It was a light purple color with an orchid embroidered on the corner. It was given to her by Madam Shen and was exactly the same as Su Jiuge's.

Shen embroidered the same handkerchiefs for them, in the same color and with the same pattern.

She didn't know whether this was Shen's deliberate act or a coincidence.

Regardless of the reason, she regarded this handkerchief as a promise—you are my daughter.

She's not my biological daughter, but she's still my daughter.

Su Wan'er pressed the handkerchief to her face, inhaling the faint fragrance of osmanthus blossoms.

"Mother." She called out silently. "I will do well, quietly, without arguing or fighting."

The lights in the main study were still on.

Su Zhentian sat behind his desk, a memorial lying open in front of him, but he hadn't written a single word.

He held the pen, the ink at the tip already dry, leaving a dry ink dot on the paper. He put down the pen, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

Madam Shen pushed open the door and came in, carrying a bowl of ginseng soup.

Su Zhentian opened his eyes and looked at her. Shen's eyes were a little red, but the corners of her mouth were turned up. It's impossible for a person to be both sad and happy at the same time, but she did it. She was happy because her daughter had returned, and sad because she remembered the suffering of the past sixteen years.

"Madam, aren't you asleep yet? We have your coming-of-age ceremony to prepare for tomorrow; you'll be busy."

Shen placed the ginseng soup on the table and sat down opposite Su Zhentian. "I can't sleep. Jiuge isn't asleep either; I saw her light was on in her room." Su Zhentian was silent for a moment.

"This child has suffered too much. In sixteen years, he has lost countless nights of sleeplessness."

Shen's tears fell again. She wasn't a crybaby, but she had shed more tears in the past month than in the previous sixteen years combined.

Su Zhentian held her hand.

The hands that have held knives for half their lives and the hands that have embroidered for half their lives are both marked by the passage of time.

"Madam, things will get better. She's back, and our family is together again. Things will be alright."

Madam Shen nodded, wiped away her tears, picked up the ginseng soup and took a sip, which was so hot that she had to breathe on it.

Su Zhentian looked at her and suddenly smiled. Madam Shen glared at him.

"What are you laughing at?" Su Zhentian shook his head and didn't say anything.

He was laughing at himself, laughing at himself for being so old and still feeling happy over such a small thing.

It was only because his wife drank a sip of scalding hot ginseng soup, and only because his daughter was awake in the next room.

It's simply because the family is together.

Su Zhentian took the ginseng soup from Shen's hands, blew on it, and handed it back.

"Drink slowly, no one's going to take it from you."

In the study in the backyard, Su Chengen was still dealing with the Marquis's accounts. Tomorrow was his coming-of-age ceremony, and there were one matter after another in the manor; he couldn't sleep. He rubbed his sore eyes, picked up the now-cold tea, and took a sip.

Su Chengxun sat opposite him, holding a book in his hands, but he didn't read a single word.

"Second Brother," Su Chengxun called out, his voice tinged with hesitation.

"Hmm." Su Chengen continued looking at the accounts.

"Sister Jiuge is turning 18 tomorrow, what should I give her as a gift?"

Su Chengen looked up at his younger brother's slightly thin and shy face. Su Chengxun was truly troubled, his brows furrowed tightly, like an unsolvable riddle.

"She cherishes the calligraphy you gave her last time," Su Chengen said.

Su Chengxun's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"It's true. I saw it with my own eyes; she kept it next to her pillow and looked at it every night before going to sleep."

Su Chengxun smiled.

Looking at his younger brother's smiling face, Su Chengen thought about many things but said nothing.

Su Chengzhi was also not asleep in the courtyard across the street.

He sat on the veranda, his long sword lying across his lap, the moonlight shining on the blade and reflecting a cold light.

He was deeply moved by the return of his younger sister, Su Jiuge. With Aunt Zhou gone, his world had changed.

People used to say he was a member of the Zhou family, but now he considers himself a member of the Su family.

Su Chengzhi held the sword upright, and his own face was reflected on the blade.

"Brother Chengzhi."

He tried to call himself in Su Jiuge's tone, but it didn't sound right. He then tried to call himself "Big Brother" in Su Chengen's tone, but it still didn't sound right.

Only the tune Su Jiuge sang was neither too high nor too low, neither too light nor too heavy, like a knife precisely cutting into the seams of bone.

She called him "elder brother" not out of politeness, but because she acknowledged him as her brother.

He was recognized as the eldest brother, born out of wedlock.

Su Chengzhi sheathed his sword, stood up, and looked at the moon in the sky.

Tomorrow is his coming-of-age ceremony. He's going to give this younger sister something, not a valuable treasure, but something he made himself—a crossbow. He drew the design himself, found a blacksmith himself, and had it hammered out, hammer by hammer.

It was lighter, more accurate, and had a longer range than the one he used at Eagle's Sorrow Gorge.

He worked on it for a long time.

Su Chengzhi took the crossbow out of the house and examined it carefully under the moonlight.

The crossbow body is made of fine nanmu wood and polished to a smooth, mirror-like finish.

The crossbow was made of fine iron, and every part was repeatedly adjusted to fit perfectly.

The bowstring wasn't made of ordinary cow tendon, but of dragon tendon he found in the Ministry of War's armory. It was extremely resilient, making the arrows both fast and steady when shot.

He named the crossbow "Wind Chaser".

I didn't tell anyone.

Tomorrow, he will give it to Su Jiuge.

She'll definitely like it, Su Chengzhi thought.

Su Jiuge pushed open the window, and the night wind, carrying the chill of early winter, rushed in, blowing her long hair that was scattered over her shoulders.

A person stood under the pomegranate tree in the courtyard. The moonlight shone on her, casting a long and pale shadow, like a light ink painting. She wore a pale yellow jacket, without any pearl flowers, only a silver hairpin.

Su Wan'er looked up at Su Jiuge's window, and the two looked at each other across the courtyard.

Su Wan'er opened her mouth as if to say something, but when she looked into Su Jiuge's eyes, there was no disgust in them, only something she had never seen in Su Jiuge's eyes before—an emptiness that said, "I am looking at you, but I do not hate you."

Su Wan'er stood there, looking at Su Jiuge.

Su Jiuge pointed to the spot next to her.

Su Wan'er was stunned for a moment, and Su Jiuge pointed again.

Su Wan'er tentatively took a step forward, but Su Jiuge did not tell her to stop.

She took another step. One step, then another, until she reached the pomegranate tree and stood outside Su Jiuge's window.

Su Jiuge handed her something.

A piece of candy, a rock candy, round and small, glistening in the moonlight.

Su Wan'er took the candy with both hands, holding it in her palms as if it were a priceless luminous pearl. Looking at it, her lips trembled.

"Thanks."

Her voice was very soft, so soft that it was almost inaudible.

Su Jiuge did not answer.

She closed the window and lay back down on the bed.

Su Wan'er, standing outside the window, clutched the rock candy and stood under the pomegranate tree for a very long time.

She put the rock candy in her mouth.

It was so sweet that she felt completely relaxed, leaning against the pomegranate tree, slowly and gradually feeling the rock candy melt on her tongue.

The sweetness spread from the tip of the tongue to the entire mouth, from the mouth to the throat, and from the throat to the heart.

For sixteen years, she has eaten many delicacies and expensive pastries, but none of them have been as sweet as this rock candy.

Su Jiuge lay on the bed and heard Su Wan'er's footsteps leaving outside the window. They were light and fragmented, just like when she came, but with something different.

Su Jiuge couldn't quite put her finger on it; perhaps it was lighthearted.

Su Jiuge placed her hands on her chest for a long time, then pulled the blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes.

Tomorrow is her birthday. Tomorrow, she will wear the lotus-colored dress chosen by Madam Shen, the gold-inlaid jade hairpin selected by Madam Shen, and eat the osmanthus cake made by Madam Shen.

The old drunkard would sit next to her, Ghost Hand would stand in the corner, Madam Shen would smile through her tears, and Su Zhentian would stand far away.

Su Jiuge waited in the darkness for dawn, for the first day in sixteen years that belonged to her.

Outside the window, the moon slowly sank in the west. On the eaves of the Marquis of Dingyuan's mansion, the snow shimmered silvery-white in the moonlight, like a silent sea.

The night is still long, but dawn will always break.