It rained all night.
Inside the Pope's Palace bedroom, the candle flame was on the verge of going out.
Qian Xunji lay on the bed, his face ashen as death.
Even beneath the brocade quilt, the sunken wound in his chest was clearly visible. The bandages around his severed arm were soaked through with blood, and a strong stench of it filled the room.
He had been unconscious for two whole days. Now and then, he would open his eyes, but all he did was stare vaguely at the ceiling, unable to utter a single word.
There was no one else in the room.
He had driven out the attendants, dismissed the red-robed cardinals, and even sent Qian Daoliu to the Worship Hall on the excuse that he "wanted some quiet."
At that moment, he was alone in the bedroom.
No.
The bedroom door opened.
The night wind swept in with the rain, making the last candle flame lurch wildly.
A figure in purple stood in the doorway.
Bibi Dong.
She was barefoot, her purple dress soaked through and clinging to her body, outlining her slender frame.
Her silver hairpin had fallen out at some point. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders, tossed into disarray by the wind.
She had no umbrella.
And she had brought no one with her.
Qian Xunji's eyelids twitched.
As if sensing something, he struggled to turn his head and looked toward the doorway with his murky golden eyes.
The moment he saw that purple silhouette, his pupils contracted slightly.
"...You."
His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, like air escaping a broken bellows.
Bibi Dong didn't answer.
She walked into the room and closed the door behind her.
The rain was shut out, and the room fell abruptly silent, save for the occasional crackle of the candle.
She walked to the bedside and looked down at Qian Xunji.
The candlelight cast shifting shadows across her face.
"Why... did you come?" Qian Xunji's voice came in fits and starts. He had to gasp for breath after every word.
Bibi Dong looked at him.
There was no hatred in those violet eyes, no sorrow, not even the slightest hint of any other emotion.
Only a fathomless calm that sent a chill down one's spine.
"To see you."
Her voice was soft, as though she were speaking of some trivial matter.
A vague sound came from Qian Xunji's throat, like a laugh, or perhaps a gasp.
"To... see me die?"
Bibi Dong didn't deny it.
She sat down beside the bed, her purple dress spread across the floor like a withered flower.
"Your injuries are severe."
She spoke.
"The Clear Sky Hammer left you gravely wounded. It wrecked your body, and I'm going to make your soul scatter and your spirit vanish."
She tilted her head to look at him.
"You won't live through the night, Qian Xunji."
Qian Xunji's breathing quickened abruptly.
He stared at Bibi Dong, and at last a trace of fear appeared in his murky golden eyes.
"You... You're going to kill me?"
Bibi Dong didn't answer.
She took a handkerchief from her sleeve and lowered her head to wipe the nonexistent dust from her fingertips.
Her movements were slow and unhurried.
"Back then, when you did those things to me, did you ever think... that this day would come?"
Qian Xunji's body began to tremble.
Not from his injuries, but from fear.
Of course he remembered.
How could he possibly forget?
That rainy night, this secret chamber, the girl kneeling on the floor and begging him to let her go.
"You... you bitch!"
His voice suddenly rose, as if he had rallied for one last burst of strength, and he reached out sharply.
His only remaining hand, his left, clutched Bibi Dong's wrist tightly.
"You... you!"
His voice cut off abruptly.
Bibi Dong lowered her eyes and looked at the hand gripping her wrist.
Her expression didn't change in the slightest.
Then she lifted her other hand and gently laid it over his.
"Too late."
She spoke.
Purple Soul Power surged from his palm, spreading wildly along his meridians.
Qian Xunji's pupils dilated abruptly.
He could feel that power devouring his martial soul.
The phantom of a six-winged angel appeared behind him, struggling desperately and letting out a piercing wail.
But Qian Xunji was too badly injured.
The Clear Sky Hammer had already shattered most of his martial soul. At that moment, he had no strength to resist at all.
"Bibi Dong... you..."
His voice came in fits and starts. With every word he spoke, more blood welled up in his mouth.
Bibi Dong didn't answer.
She simply watched him in silence as purple Soul Power poured steadily into his body.
Devouring his martial soul. Annihilating his soul.
Qian Xunji's body began to convulse violently.
The angel phantom behind him grew fainter and dimmer, until at last—
"Pfft."
As if something had shattered.
The six-winged angel phantom burst apart with a thunderous crash, dissolving into countless golden specks that drifted through the bedroom.
Qian Xunji's eyes flew wide. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
His body remained rigid for a moment, then went completely limp.
His head lolled to one side. His eyes were still open, but his pupils had already gone unfocused.
The Pope, Qian Xunji, died in his own bedroom.
Bibi Dong withdrew her hand.
She lowered her eyes to her palm, where Qian Xunji's warmth still lingered.
Without expression, she took out a handkerchief and slowly wiped it clean.
Then she tossed the handkerchief onto the floor.
She stood up and turned toward the door.
She didn't look back at the corpse even once.
The door opened, and the sound of rain surged toward her.
She stepped barefoot into the rain, her purple dress soaked through, her long hair plastered to her cheeks.
After a few steps, she suddenly stopped.
She tilted her face upward and let the rain strike it.
For a long while.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
When she opened them again, nothing remained in her violet eyes but calm.
She continued walking, disappearing into the curtain of rain.
At daybreak, a maid opened the bedroom door.
Then she let out a scream.
Qian Daoliu was the first to arrive.
He stood beside the bed, looking at Qian Xunji's ashen face and those eyes that refused to close.
He looked for a long time.
No one in the room dared to speak.
Qian Daoliu reached out and slowly lowered Qian Xunji's eyelids.
Then he turned around.
"Pope Qian Xunji succumbed to his severe injuries and passed away today."
His voice was hoarse, yet unusually calm.
"Spirit Hall will mourn for seven days. I will temporarily take charge of its affairs."
The red-robed cardinals knelt across the floor.
Qian Daoliu didn't look at anyone else. He strode toward the door.
At the turn in the corridor, he encountered Bibi Dong.
She wore a simple purple dress, her hair neatly arranged, her face as pale as ever.
They passed each other.
Neither looked at the other.
Neither spoke.
Qian Daoliu didn't break his stride, and neither did Bibi Dong.
And so they passed by.
As if nothing had happened.
Several days later, Qian Xunji was laid to rest.
The bells of the Seventy-Two Bell Towers tolled his funeral, and the entire city was draped in white.
Qian Daoliu stood at the front, a strip of white cloth tied around his gray robe, his expression unchanged.
Qian Renxue stood beside him, a white flower pinned in her golden hair, her eyes faintly red.
Bibi Dong stood on the other side, a plain white mourning robe over her purple dress, her gaze lowered.
No one spoke.
The coffin was lowered into the grave.
Qian Daoliu scooped up a handful of earth and scattered it over the coffin.
"The rites are complete."
The crowd dispersed.
Qian Renxue remained where she was, gazing at the gravestone. For a long time, she didn't move.
Qian Anci walked over to her.
"Big sister."
Qian Renxue didn't look at him.
"Anci, was Father... killed by Mother?"
Qian Anci fell silent for a moment.
"Why do you ask, big sister?"
Qian Renxue didn't answer.
She turned and walked toward the Pope's Palace.
After a few steps, she stopped.
"I saw it."
Her voice was very soft.
"That night, I saw Mother come out of Father's bedroom."
"She was soaked to the skin, and there was blood on her hands."
Qian Anci said nothing.
"But Grandfather said he succumbed to his injuries."
Qian Renxue tilted her head slightly, the gray light of the sky reflected in her golden eyes.
"So... he succumbed to his injuries."
She continued walking.
Qian Anci stood where he was, watching her retreating figure.
In the distance, the funeral bells were still ringing.
One toll, then another.
Their sound carried far, far away on the wind.
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