Nine Nights Owl Song

Su Wan'er stood outside the door, holding a plate of osmanthus cake in her hand.

She had been standing outside the door for a long time, ever since Su Jiuge went in, neither daring to knock nor daring to leave.

She wanted to go in and keep her company, but she didn't know what to say.

She knew that feeling—losing a loved one, not just a blood relative, but someone with a bond deeper than blood.

Shen was not her biological mother, but she raised her.

Su Jiuge was not the old drunkard's biological daughter; the old drunkard protected her with his life.

Su Wan'er took a deep breath and gently pushed open the door.

Su Jiuge looked up at her but didn't say anything.

Su Wan'er went in, placed the osmanthus cake on the table, and sat down next to her.

Neither of them spoke; they sat there quietly.

The pomegranate tree in the yard outside the window has sprouted new buds, tender and green, swaying gently in the spring breeze.

Su Wan'er spoke first.

"Sister Jiuge, I was taken to the Marquis's mansion when I was five years old. At that time, the madam treated me very well. She cooked delicious food for me and made new clothes for me. When I was sick, she stayed up all night to watch over me. I thought she was my own mother." Su Wan'er's eyes reddened, but she did not shed tears.

"Later, Aunt Zhou told me that I was not Madam's biological son. I cried all night, not because I wasn't her biological son, but because I was afraid that Madam would abandon me if she found out."

She looked down at her hands.

"I was young then and didn't know that my wife knew from the beginning that I wasn't her biological son. She knew from day one. Yet she was still good to me."

Su Wan'er turned her head to look at Su Jiuge.

"Sister Jiuge, family isn't based on blood ties. Madam is my family, and the old drunkard is your family. Blood ties may be severed, but bonds of affection can't. The old drunkard is gone, but he's still in your heart. He'll follow you wherever you go. He's gone, but what he gave you remains—your life, your name, your martial arts, and your way of living."

Su Jiuge looked at Su Wan'er.

Su Wan'er's tears fell silently, streaming down her face. She didn't wipe them away, letting them flow.

"Sister Jiuge, you are not alone. You have your wife, your lord, your elder brothers, your second and third brothers, me, and the Sixth Prince. We are all your family. The old drunkard is gone, but we are still here." Su Wan'er held Su Jiuge's hand tightly.

Su Jiuge looked down at the hand, which was fair and slender with thin calluses on the palm—from doing housework.

This hand isn't a murderous hand; it's a hand that brings warmth. Su Jiuge remained silent for a long time.

The pomegranate leaves outside the window rustled in the wind.

Su Jiuge took Su Wan'er's hand in return.

Su Wan'er was stunned for a moment, but she smiled, laughing through her tears.

Su Jiuge neither laughed nor cried; she held Su Wan'er's hand.

The osmanthus cakes from the Shen family were steaming on the table, their sweet aroma filling the room.

After a long while, Su Jiuge finally spoke.

"Wan'er."

"Um."

"Thank you."

Su Wan'er's tears welled up again.

She rushed over and hugged Su Jiuge.

Su Jiuge's body stiffened for a moment, then slowly relaxed.

She did not push Su Wan'er away.

Shen Qing stood outside the door, sword in hand, his back to it. His task was to guard the door and prevent anyone from disturbing the sect leader when he was sad.

But Su Wan'er is not "anyone"; she is family.

He didn't stop her.

Zhao Ying walked over from the corridor and saw Shen Qing standing at the door. Hearing the noise inside, she slowed her pace and silently mouthed, "Is the Pavilion Master crying?" Shen Qing shook his head.

Zhao Ying asked again, "Did Su Wan'er cry?" Shen Qing nodded.

Zhao Ying sighed and leaned against a pillar in the corridor.

Qian Shaoqing stood at the moon gate and watched this scene from afar.

Zhao Xiaohe peeked out from behind the pillar.

"Is Sister Jiuge alright?" Zhao Ying turned around and looked at her.

"It's alright." Zhao Xiaohe nodded.

On the 20th day of the third month of the nineteenth year of Yong'an, Su Wan'er spent the entire afternoon with Su Jiuge at the Marquis of Dingyuan's residence.

The two didn't say much, just sat side by side, exchanging a few words occasionally, but mostly remaining silent.

But that silence wasn't oppressive; it was a silence that came from having someone with you.

Su Jiuge had never felt this way before—she thought she was used to being alone and that she didn't need anyone to accompany her.

She was wrong.

It's not bad to have someone with you.

Madam Shen came over from the kitchen carrying a plate of freshly steamed osmanthus cake.

"Jiuge, have something to eat."

Su Jiuge took the osmanthus cake and took a bite; it was warm.

Shen watched her eat, cautiously probing her.

"Jiuge, are you staying at home tonight?" Su Jiuge swallowed the osmanthus cake.

"live."

Ms. Shen nodded vigorously.

"Okay, Mom will go make your bed."

Su Jiuge stood in the courtyard looking at the pomegranate tree.

Xiao Yan walked in through the moon gate, carrying a pot of wine in his hand.

He walked up to Su Jiuge.

"The old drunkard's gourd was empty, so I filled it for you." Su Jiuge looked at the gourd in his hand.

That was the strong liquor she often drank; Xiao Yan specially went to the liquor shop frequented by the old drunkard to get it.

Su Jiuge took the wine pot, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip.

It was intense, burning from her throat all the way down to her stomach, making her eyes hot.

"Xiao Yan".

"Um."

"You'll always be there, right?"

Xiao Yan looked into her eyes.

"I've always been here."

Su Jiuge nodded.

The future is long; the old drunkard is gone, but others will follow.

But as long as he's by her side, she can get through it.

Night was falling.

Su Jiuge lay in her room, the room she had stayed in since returning to the Marquis's mansion. Madam Shen cleaned it every day, and the bedding was fluffy and soft from the sun, smelling of sunshine.

On the bedside table was the old drunkard's gourd, which was filled with strong liquor that Xiao Yan had brought.

There was a letter from the old drunkard under the pillow.

She reached out and touched the wine gourd, then the letter. The old drunkard was still alive, alive in her life, in her name, in her martial arts.

The way she lived was what he taught her.

The pomegranate tree outside the window swayed gently in the night breeze.

Su Jiuge closed her eyes and whispered, "Old drunkard, I'm doing fine, don't worry."

She didn't know if the old drunkard could hear her, but she wanted to say it.

On the 20th day of the third month of the 19th year of Yong'an, the seventh day after the old drunkard's death had passed.

Su Jiuge slept soundly; she hadn't slept so peacefully in a long time.