Nine Nights Owl Song

Su Jiuge floated in the darkness for a long time.

It's neither a coma nor a deep sleep, but a kind of detached state somewhere in between.

She could hear sounds from outside—

The doctor's footsteps, Shen's sobs, Su Zhentian's low voice saying, "Use the best medicine, at any cost"...

She could feel someone bandaging her wounds, someone wiping the blood off her face, and someone feeding her medicine. The medicine was very bitter, so bitter that it made her tongue go numb.

But she couldn't open her eyes, and she couldn't move her body. It was as if she was nailed to the bed by something, like a stone pressed to the bottom of a river. Water flowed over her body, and she could see the light on the surface of the water, but she couldn't reach it.

She dreamed of the old drunkard.

In her dream, she was still that small, thin child fighting with wild dogs for food in the ruins.

The old drunkard squatted down in front of her, stuffed half a cornbread into her hand, and said, "Girl, live well."

She wanted to tell the old drunkard that she was alive, that she had lived to be sixteen, that she had killed many people, that she had found her family, and that she had a name: Su Jiuge.

But the old drunkard couldn't hear him. His figure grew fainter and fainter, farther and farther away, like a wisp of smoke blown away by the wind.

Then the dream changed.

She dreamed of A Yao.

Ayao stood at the edge of a crevice in the mine, holding a knife in her hand, crying as she said, "Only one person can survive in a group, and the one who survives can become a silver-level assassin."

She wanted to tell Ayao that it was fake, that the whole group could survive, and that there was no need to kill anyone.

But Ayao had already fallen. She reached out to grab her, but couldn't. Ayao's body plunged into the darkness, getting smaller and smaller, deeper and deeper, until finally she couldn't see anything at all.

Then the dream changed again.

She stood in the main hall of the Marquis of Dingyuan's residence. Madam Shen held her hand and placed a jade pendant in her palm, saying, "This was prepared for you by your father on the day you were born."

The jade pendant was warm and smooth, still carrying the warmth of Shen's body.

Su Chengzhi stood not far away and called out to her, "Sister Jiuge," in a low and short voice.

Su Chengen smiled and said, "Welcome home."

Su Chengxun blushed and called her "Sister Jiuge".

Su Zhentian stood in the main seat, looking at her and saying, "Your name has never been erased."

A hand reached out from the darkness and grasped her hand.

That hand was large and rough, with distinct knuckles and thick calluses on the base of the thumb—the result of years of holding a knife.

But those hands were simply holding hers, with just the right amount of pressure, neither too light nor too heavy, as if they were holding something precious and fragile.

Su Jiuge opened her eyes.

The curtains hung low, and the brocade quilt covered her chest.

Her left shoulder was wrapped in thick cotton cloth, the bandage wrapped tightly from her shoulder to her armpit, and then from her armpit to her chest, so tightly that she had to exert effort with every breath.

She lay on an unfamiliar bed, a large bed covered with thick mattresses and with a faint sandalwood scent.

"Awake?" A large hand covered her forehead; the palm was warm and the skin rough.

"We're not burning it anymore."

Su Jiuge turned her head and saw Su Chengzhi sitting on a stool by the bed, with an unsheathed longsword on his lap, his back straight like a gun stuck in the ground.

He had two dark circles under his eyes, bloodshot eyes, and grayish-blue stubble on his chin.

He was wearing an old robe that he had found somewhere, with dark red stains on the cuffs and collar that couldn't be washed off—her blood.

He leaned back in his chair, held her hand, and looked at her face; his usually furrowed brows relaxed.

Su Chengzhi opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

He simply held her hand, swallowing back the words he'd uttered countless times at Eagle's Sorrow Gorge: "Talk to me." Instead, he asked, "Does it hurt?"

Su Jiuge stared at him for a long time.

"It doesn't hurt," she said.

is fake.

Her left shoulder ached as if it were on fire; every breath aggravated the wound, causing her to break out in a sweat. But she didn't want him to know.

Su Chengzhi looked into her eyes and saw through her lie.

He didn't say anything, poured a glass of warm water and placed it within her reach, then pulled the blanket up to cover her exposed shoulders.

"The doctor said the wound is too deep, it broke the bone, and it will take at least a month to heal. During this month, you can't move this arm, you can't use your internal energy, and you can't fight. I've found you a wheelchair..."

"I don't want a wheelchair..." Su Jiuge said.

Seeing her expression, Su Chengzhi swallowed back what he was going to say and only said two words: "Okay."

Hurried footsteps came from outside the door.

Shen pushed open the door and came in carrying a steaming bowl of medicinal soup. When she saw Su Jiuge with her eyes open, she almost dropped the bowl.

She walked quickly to the bedside, placed the bowl on the table, reached out and touched Su Jiuge's face. Tears fell, but the corners of her mouth were turned up.

"It's good that you're awake, it's good that you're awake. Here, drink this bowl of medicine while it's hot, it'll be more bitter when it's cold."

Su Jiuge took the bowl of medicine, tilted her head back, and gulped it down. The medicine was very bitter, making her stomach churn.

She calmly placed the empty bowl back on the table, and Shen's eyes reddened again.

"You child, you drink medicine like it's water, you don't even complain about the bitterness."

Su Jiuge did not answer.

It's not that she doesn't know hardship, it's that she's gotten used to it.

She'd eaten far more bitter things than medicine.

Su Zhentian stood at the door, but did not come in.

He was dressed in black casual clothes, his hair held up with only a hairpin, and it seemed he had come directly from the study.

He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, looking at Su Jiuge on the bed, his face expressionless.

But his eyes betrayed him—those resolute and steady eyes, which had never wavered even on the battlefield, seemed to melt away the moment he saw Su Jiuge wake up.

He didn't come in; he just stood at the doorway, looked at her for a while, and then turned and left.

He took two steps, then stopped. Without turning around, he said in a hoarse voice:

"Stop doing this."

His footsteps faded into the distance.

Su Jiuge stared at the empty doorway and remained silent for a long time.

She didn't know what to say to that figure.

"I'm sorry"? She had nothing to apologize for.

"I'm fine?" No, she's not. She's badly injured.

"You won't do it again next time?" She'll do the same thing again next time.

But she didn't say anything.

Su Chengen arrived in the afternoon.

He brought a basket of fruit, all fresh, each one washed clean, dried with a handkerchief, and neatly arranged in the basket.

He placed the basket on the table and moved a chair to sit down next to Su Jiuge's bed.

"Chengzhi stayed by your side for a whole day and night," Su Chengen said. "He hasn't slept a wink since we came back from Yingchoujian. His father told him to go and rest, but he wouldn't go. His mother told him to go and get something to eat, but he wouldn't go either. He just sat there, holding your hand, and wouldn't listen to anyone's advice."

Su Jiuge remained silent.

Su Chengen looked at her and remained silent for a moment.

"Jiuge, I have a question for you."

"Go ahead and ask."

Why are you looking for Chengzhi?

Su Chengen's voice was very soft and slow, as if he were asking a question he already knew the answer to.

"He's not the only one in the Marquis's mansion who knows martial arts; I can too. But you went to him, not me. Why?"

Su Jiuge looked at Su Chengen.

Today he wore a moon-white brocade robe, with a dark green silk sash tied around his waist, and his hair was tied up with a jade crown, making him look as gentle and refined as jade.

His expression was gentle, his tone was mild, his eyes were gentle, and even his posture was gentle.

"Because he needs to be needed," Su Jiuge said.

Su Chengen's eyebrows twitched slightly.

"He was suppressed by Aunt Zhou for more than 20 years, and everyone treated him as a member of the Zhou family. No one cared what he wanted, and no one cared whether he wanted to be a member of the Su family."

Su Jiuge's voice was very calm, as if she were talking about something that had nothing to do with her.

"He needs someone to tell him that he is a member of the Su family. He needs something to prove that he can rely on himself without the Zhou family."

Su Chengen stared at her for a long time.

Then he smiled, a smile of relief and contentment.

"You've only been at the Marquis's residence for a few days, yet you see things more clearly than I do."

Su Jiuge did not answer.

She didn't just see things clearly; she felt the pain deeply.

She was used as a weapon in the dark chambers, never treated as a "human being," and she knew what it meant to be unwanted.

Su Chengxun arrived in the evening.

He stood at the doorway, peeking half his body in, like a timid cat that wanted to come in but didn't dare.

Su Jiuge glanced at him, nodded, and gestured for him to come in.

Su Chengxun walked in, clutching a roll of paper in his hand, his face as red as a boiled shrimp.

"Jiuge... Sister." His voice was so soft it was like a mosquito's buzz.

"I...I wrote you a piece of calligraphy. It's a passage from the Diamond Sutra, which can protect people and bring them peace. Please don't mind that my calligraphy isn't very good."

He placed the roll of paper by the bedside, then ran out like a startled rabbit. When he reached the door, he tripped over the threshold, stumbled a couple of steps, and almost fell. He steadied himself by holding onto the door frame and ran off without looking back.

Su Jiuge watched the fleeing figure, then looked down at the roll of paper.

She untied the rope and unfolded the scroll.

Several lines of text were written neatly in regular script on the paper—

"All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, dew, and lightning; thus should they be viewed."

The handwriting is neat and elegant, with each stroke carefully executed. However, the ink is uneven in some places, and some characters are written a little too large while others are a little too small. It is clear that the work was written many times and the best one was selected before being sent.

Su Jiuge rolled up the paper again and placed it beside her pillow.

Su Wan'er did not come.

Su Jiuge didn't know if she was afraid to come, didn't want to come, or was forbidden to come by the Shen family.

She doesn't care.

She turned over and closed her eyes.

When Madam Shen brought in the second bowl of medicine, Su Jiuge had already fallen asleep again.

Madam Shen placed the medicine bowl on the table, sat by the bed, and looked at her daughter's sleeping face.

Her gaze slid from Su Jiuge's eyebrows and eyes to the bridge of her nose, from the bridge of her nose to her lips, and from her lips to her chin, as if she were depicting a painting that had been lost and then found.

Shen reached out and gently brushed the stray hairs from Su Jiuge's forehead behind her ear, her movements very light and slow, as if afraid of disturbing something.

Her fingers touched Su Jiuge's skin; it was cold and rough, completely different from that of a newborn baby.

A newborn baby's skin is soft, smooth, and silky.

The child's skin bears scars, calluses, and all the marks left by time and hardship.

Shen's tears slid down her cheeks silently. She didn't wipe them away, afraid that the handkerchief in her hand would touch Su Jiuge's face and wake her.

She just sat there, looking at her daughter's face, letting the tears fall drop by drop onto her clothes.

Su Jiuge frowned in her sleep.

Her right hand reached to the pillow and touched the roll of paper.

Unconsciously, his fingers gripped one end of the rolled-up paper, tightening, loosening, and tightening again.

Looking at the hand and the crumpled roll of paper, Shen suddenly covered her mouth and began to cry silently.

It was dark outside the window.

One by one, the lanterns of the Marquis of Dingyuan's mansion lit up, illuminating the entire residence.

Su Chengzhi sat in his study, a document from the Ministry of War spread out in front of him, but he couldn't concentrate on reading a single word.

His right hand was trembling slightly—it was muscle strain.

He lay prone in Eagle's Sorrow Gorge for nearly an hour, keeping his crossbow level and aimed at the ghostly figure on the stone wall, never letting up for a moment.

His muscles had been in a state of high tension for that hour, and now that he had relaxed, his whole arm was trembling, and he couldn't even hold the pen steadily.

Su Zhentian pushed open the door and came in, carrying a pot of wine and two cups. He sat down opposite Su Chengzhi, poured two cups of wine, and pushed one of them towards Su Chengzhi.

Su Chengzhi looked at the glass of wine but didn't touch it.

"Drink," Su Zhentian said.

"Your performance today deserves this glass of wine."

Su Chengzhi picked up his wine glass and drank it all in one gulp.

The liquor was pungent, burning from his throat all the way down to his stomach, making his eyes red. He didn't know if it was the liquor or something else.

"Do you know why I haven't made you my heir?" Su Zhentian suddenly asked.

Su Chengzhi put down his wine glass and remained silent for a moment.

"Because I was born out of wedlock."

"No," Su Zhentian said.

"Because you don't believe you're a member of the Su family. How can someone who doesn't even believe they're a member of the Su family shoulder the responsibilities of the Marquis of Dingyuan's mansion?"

Su Chengzhi's hand froze.

"What did Aunt Zhou tell you?"

Su Zhentian's voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a hammer blow.

"She said that you owe everything you have today to the Zhou family's cultivation. She said that without the Zhou family, you are nothing. She said you must be obedient, grateful, and repay them. You've heard these words for over twenty years, and they've stuck in your bones. You don't believe you're a member of the Su family; you feel that everything you have comes from the Zhou family, that you owe the Zhou family, and that you owe everyone else."

Su Chengzhi lowered his head, staring at the empty wine glass on the table. His Adam's apple bobbed as if he were swallowing something.

Su Zhentian stood up, walked to Su Chengzhi, placed his hand on his shoulder, and pressed it firmly.

"You have never owed the Zhou family anything," Su Zhentian said in a hoarse but firm voice.

"I owe no one anything. You are surnamed Su, and you are my son. No one can ever change that—not Aunt Zhou, not the Zhou family, not anyone. You are born out of wedlock, but the blood you shed is the same as the blood I shed."

Su Chengzhi raised his head and looked at Su Zhentian.

His eyes reddened, and his lips trembled slightly, but he didn't let the tears fall.

For twenty-four years, this was the sentence he had been waiting for.

He thought he would never get to see it again.

Su Zhentian patted him on the shoulder, said nothing more, and walked out with the wine jug.

Su Chengzhi sat alone in his study, staring at the empty wine glass, untouched for a long time.

He picked up the wine jug and poured himself a second cup of wine. He picked it up, then put it down again.

He raised his glass, facing a person who wasn't actually there, and whispered something:

"I salute you, elder brother."

Then he drank the wine in his glass in one gulp.

Outside the window, the lanterns of the Marquis of Dingyuan's mansion were extinguished one by one, and the night was as dark as ink.

Su Jiuge turned over in her sleep and touched the wound on her left shoulder, wincing in pain.

The Diamond Sutra was still clutched in her hand, the scroll crumpled from being squeezed, but the words on it remained: "All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, and shadows."

Su Jiuge was unaware that for some people, her existence was not just a fleeting dream.

It was like a stone thrown into the still waters of the Marquis of Dingyuan's mansion, a pool that had been stagnant for sixteen years. The ripples it created spread outwards, affecting everyone.

Su Zhentian, Shen Shi, Su Chengzhi, Su Chengen, Su Chengxun, and Su Wan'er—each of them swayed, struggled, and searched for their place again amidst those ripples.

And she is that stone.

It's not a dream or a bubble.