Qian Renxue, Your Existence Is Already a Mistake

Martial Soul City, a side hall of the Pope's Palace.

Qian Renxue, dressed in a white gown and clutching an exquisite sandalwood box to her chest, stood before the tightly shut door.

A long while passed.

She took a deep breath and raised her hand to knock on the door.

"Mother."

Her voice carried a hint of anticipation.

There was no response from within.

Qian Renxue bit her lip and knocked again.

"Mother, today is your birthday, I..."

"Get out."

A single word.

It was as cold as ice, as sharp as a blade, and as chilling as the frost she encountered every time she drew near these past years.

"Mother, I only wanted to..."

Qian Renxue froze in place. She wanted to explain, but...

The door was suddenly pulled open.

Bibi Dong stood inside.

Her gaze was fixed firmly on Qian Renxue, as if she were looking at someone of no consequence.

"I said, get out."

Qian Renxue opened her mouth, and the box slipped from her arms, hitting the floor with a sharp crack.

The hairpin that had been inside tumbled out, instantly shattering into pieces.

"Mother..."

"Do not call me Mother."

Bibi Dong finally raised her eyes.

There was no warmth in those pupils, only boundless disgust.

"Your very existence is a mistake."

Qian Renxue's face turned deathly pale.

She stared at the door as it slammed shut once more, watching the figure vanish through the closing gap.

A long time passed.

She bent down to pick up the fragments one by one, oblivious to the shards cutting into her fingertips.

Beads of blood dripped onto her pristine white skirt, blooming like red plum blossoms in the snow.

When Qian Anci found her, Qian Renxue was curled up in a corner behind the Pope's Palace.

A few fragments lay scattered before her, catching a faint glimmer in the dim light.

She did not cry out.

Her shoulders merely trembled slightly, like a cub abandoned by its mother, hiding in a corner to lick its wounds alone.

Qian Anci sat down beside her without a word.

He took a plain white handkerchief from his robe and held it out.

Qian Renxue did not take it.

"Why are you here?" Her voice was hoarse, thick with a nasal tone. "To watch me make a fool of myself?"

"Yes," Qian Anci replied. "To watch someone with a sharp tongue and a soft heart hide away to cry."

"...Get lost."

"Fine, I'm leaving."

Qian Anci stood up, making a show of walking away.

Qian Renxue looked up abruptly, her eyes shimmering with tears.

"You!"

"I was lying."

He sat back down and shoved the handkerchief into her hand.

Then, he lowered his head and began picking up the fragments from the ground one by one, gathering them into his palm.

"It's broken."

Qian Anci said.

"I know it's broken!" Qian Renxue's voice carried a hint of a sob. "I spent three days picking it out... and she didn't even look at it..."

"Then pick another one."

"She won't want it."

"Then keep picking until she does."

Qian Anci glanced at her, the grey light in his eyes settling like an abyss. "Or, keep picking until you don't want to anymore."

Qian Renxue froze.

She looked at the shards in Qian Anci's palm.

Looking at those edges refracting the faint light, the grievances buried deep in her heart suddenly erupted.

"You don't understand."

Qian Renxue turned her face away.

"She hates me. From the day I was born, she has hated me."

"I know."

"What do you know!"

Qian Renxue whipped her head around, the tears in her golden eyes finally breaking their dam.

"Do you know what it feels like to be loathed by your own mother? Do you know what it feels like to be pushed away every time you try to get close? Do you know..."

Her voice came to an abrupt halt.

Because Qian Anci had reached out his hand.

That youthful palm rested gently on the back of her hand.

Warm, steady, like some kind of silent anchor.

"I know."

His voice was very soft, yet it clearly sliced through this dark corner.

"Six years ago, I woke up in the ruins of the Evil Soul Masters. No memories, no name, no origin. I didn't know who I was, where I came from, or why I was lying in that pool of blood."

Qian Renxue stared at him, stunned.

"Grandfather was the one who picked me up."

Qian Anci continued.

"He gave me a name and gave me a home."

"I have no roots. No past, no blood-related kin."

He turned his head to meet her tear-blurred golden eyes.

"But at least, now I have you and Grandfather."

Qian Renxue's tears finally fell.

One drop, two drops, hitting the plain white handkerchief and spreading into dark stains.

She suddenly leaned forward, resting her forehead on Qian Anci's shoulder, and her suppressed sobbing finally broke through.

It was as if all the grievances sealed away by her pride over these years had finally found an opening.

Qian Anci did not move, letting Qian Renxue's tears soak through his clothes.

He simply sat there, allowing her tears to dampen his robe and letting the hand clutching his sleeve tremble slightly.

"...Anci."

"Mm."

"Your shoulder is so hard."

"Mm."

"...Next time you pick a gift, come with me."

"Alright."

In the distance, the bells of the Pope's Palace chimed slowly.

Qian Renxue gradually stopped crying, but she still buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, refusing to look up.

"Sister," Qian Anci suddenly spoke.

"...Mm?"

"Blood is about to drip onto my robe."

Qian Renxue was startled and looked down at her fingertips.

The wound she had cut while picking up the shards was now oozing beads of blood.

She hurriedly tried to wipe it away, but Qian Anci caught her wrist.

"Don't move."

He took out another handkerchief and, with clumsy but earnest movements, bandaged it for her.

The cloth was quickly stained red, yet he seemed not to notice.

Qian Renxue watched his lowered brows and eyes, and suddenly felt a familiar ache in her nose.

"Anci."

"Hm?"

"Your bandage job is so ugly."

"...Hm."

Qian Renxue broke into a smile through her tears; though her eyes were still brimming, the corners of her lips curled upward.

The smile was faint, like a sliver of sunlight piercing through the gloom.

She suddenly reached out, gathering all the amethyst shards from Qian Anci's palm into her own.

"These... I'll keep them."

"They're broken."

"I know they're broken." She carefully tucked the shards into her sleeve, her voice softening, "But I spent three days picking these out."

Qian Anci looked at her, the gray light in his eyes settling, and said nothing more.

The two sat side by side in that dim corner, gazing at the patch of sky above, sliced into thin strips by the architecture.

A bird swept past, leaving behind a trail of clear chirps.

"Anci."

"Hm."

"In the future..." Qian Renxue paused, the tips of her ears flushing a faint red, "In the future, whenever I hide to cry, you must find me."

Qian Anci turned his gaze to her.

Qian Renxue looked away, her voice muffled: "...You aren't allowed to be late."

"Very well."

Time passed like a white horse galloping past a crevice.

In the blink of an eye, three years had gone by.

During these three years, Qian Anci's life was filled with cultivation and live combat.

Every morning, he would meditate in the Saint Son Palace, drawing upon the Death Qi of the underworld to temper his meridians.

In the afternoons, he would spar in turns with the Twelve Patrol Envoys on the training grounds; from Ya Jiu to Ya Yi, from Spirit Emperors to Spirit Douluo, he had fought nearly every one of them.

The dark-attribute resources that Qian Daoliu sought out for him were all completely absorbed.

Those breaths of death that ordinary people avoided like the plague nourished his Martial Soul like sweet nectar within his body.

Qian Renxue came to find him often.