Chapter 35: The Sword Debate

It was late autumn, with brisk winds rustling through the air. The withered flowers had long been cleared away and replaced with clusters upon clusters of autumn blooms, chiefly chrysanthemums, their vibrant colors competing to blossom. The flowers flourished in beauty, yet the trees in the courtyard shed their leaves, scattering a carpet of dry foliage across the ground. Numerous maidservants, clad in pale, delicate jackets, busied themselves with cleaning. The ornaments and hairpins they wore chimed softly, their laughter bright as silver bells.

Standing a short distance away, Northern Palace Qiyi watched their playful banter, letting out a gentle chuckle. The sound caught the maids’ attention, and they quickly stopped, bowing in unison. “Greetings, Young Master.” A crimson maple leaf drifted lazily down, and Northern Palace Qiyi caught it between his fingers. The vivid red leaf stood upright against his pale fingertips, strikingly beautiful. He smiled, handing the leaf to a maid beside him. “Rise.”

The maid clutched the leaf, staring in a daze as Qiyi strode away with pride. Her pretty face blossomed with two rosy patches.

It was early morning. The guards in the manor were practicing, their loud cries echoing through the air. Northern Palace Qiyi wandered leisurely through the courtyard, his golden embroidered robe fluttering in the cool breeze. The young man, bored, gazed about, surrounded by clusters of pale pink and yellow chrysanthemums, their fragrance wafting gently.

The pond’s lotus flowers were in full bloom, their leaves a lush green. Qiyi leaned against the brown sandalwood railing, his dark hair swaying, the hair at his forehead gathered into a jade crown, a vivid red cinnabar mark between his brows.

Helian Wei watched the young man from afar, feeling his heart tremble. He took a deep breath and walked over slowly. “Greetings, Young Master.” Qiyi looked at the blooming lotuses, his beautiful phoenix eyes half-closed, slender white fingers tapping the railing. He lazily turned his head. “Why are you here?”

Helian Wei saw that he had forgotten their agreement from the last hunt. His smile faltered, eyes cast down. “I’ve brought my younger sister to learn martial arts from you.” Qiyi’s long brows arched; only then did he recall Northern Palace Juechen had instructed Helian Wei to bring Helian Qinghan to him every half month for training. Qiyi nodded lightly, his gaze drifting to the distance. “Your sister is quite good.”

Helian Wei stole a glance at his profile. The youth’s sharp chin was slightly raised, his nose straight, phoenix eyes half-closed, the corners of his crimson lips lifted. Helian Wei’s heart raced, and he hurriedly looked away. The youth, resting his hand beneath his chin, murmured, “About that incident…”

At the mention, Helian Wei’s face flushed, but the youth’s next words chilled him to the bone. “It was merely an accident. Forget it.” Helian Wei paled, staring at the youth, whose expression remained unchanged, as if he’d uttered something trivial.

An accident… Perhaps to you, it was of no consequence, but to me, it is etched deeply in my heart. Helian Wei gripped his sleeve tightly and asked, voice hoarse, “Does the Young Master truly see it as only an accident?”

Qiyi raised an eyebrow, turned to him, and smiled with a hint of mockery. “No, I never took it seriously at all.” Helian Wei’s eyes widened, his body recoiling a step. After a while, he lowered his head, a bitter smile spreading across his lips. “I always knew I shouldn’t hope for anything, yet still…”

Feelings arise uncontrollably, deep and unwavering.

Seeing him like this, Qiyi sighed, turning to leave. Suddenly, Helian Wei grabbed his sleeve, whispering, “Rest assured, Young Master. I will forget that incident.” Qiyi nodded, and Helian Wei released his grip, powerless.

“Pretty uncle, how is Qinghan’s training?” Just as he stepped into the ‘Singing Pavilion,’ a girl’s clear, melodic voice rang out. The maids lifted the pale blue curtains from both sides. Helian Qinghan wore a lotus-colored pipa-collared top and a matching gauze skirt, her hair tied into two buns, a bell chiming softly at her neck. Her plump little hands held a tiny jade sword, waving it earnestly—an adorable sight.

Qiyi crossed his arms, leaning against a white marble pillar, smiling. “She’s young, but learns quickly.” Juechen lounged in a soft chair, holding a steaming cup of tea. He glanced up as Qiyi entered, took a sip, and said nothing. Helian Qinghan, holding her sword, rushed over and hugged Qiyi’s leg, calling sweetly, “Pretty brother!”

Qiyi gently pinched her soft, fair cheek, glanced at Juechen sipping tea, and asked with a laugh, “Did pretty uncle scold you?” At this, Juechen’s long sword-like brows rose, and he muttered, “Why are you here?”

Qiyi settled onto a low couch, stretched out his arm, and pulled Qinghan into his embrace. “When I saw Helian Wei, I remembered Qinghan was coming to see you today. I had nothing better to do, so I came by.” He felt little for Helian Wei, but since the Helian family was Helian Jia’s kin, he quite liked the clever, obedient Helian Qinghan.

“Here to see if I’ve scolded her?” Setting down his teacup, Juechen asked with a half-smile. Qinghan nestled obediently in Qiyi’s arms, her dangling legs swinging happily. She lifted her small, sculpted face and replied crisply, “Pretty uncle is very nice, he never scolds me!”

Juechen, never praised as ‘nice’ before, frowned slightly and ruffled her hair.

Qiyi watched him, holding Qinghan’s plump hands, and smiled. “Qinghan thinks as I do—I also think pretty uncle is very nice.” Qinghan’s round, sparkling eyes widened, nodding vigorously. “Mm!” Juechen shot him a sidelong glance, scolding with a laugh, “You rascal, no manners.”

The room was filled with laughter and warmth.

As the three played, a maid stepped in softly, bowing. “Master, Young Master, Helian Wei has arrived.” Juechen nodded casually, tapped Qinghan’s nose, and murmured, “Let him in.”

Helian Wei entered quickly, pausing when he saw Qiyi, then lowering his gaze, somewhat downcast. “Greetings, Master, Young Master.” Qiyi’s expression remained unchanged. He waved Qinghan’s hand, setting her down. “Go find your brother.”

Qinghan obediently walked to Helian Wei, taking his hand. Helian Wei forced a smile, stroked her face, and bowed. “Helian Wei takes his leave.”

“There’s no need to come again. Teach her some basic skills yourselves. When she’s older, I will instruct her.” Juechen spoke indifferently. Helian Wei froze, instinctively looking at Qiyi, who kept his head down, smiling silently. His reply was complicated. “Yes.”

Juechen nodded, unconcerned. Qinghan grinned, waving to the two before following Helian Wei out of the Singing Pavilion.

The blue curtains swayed, settling into calm.

Qiyi propped his elbow on the round wooden table, resting his chin as he gazed at Juechen. Juechen shot him a sidelong glance, expressionless. “Is there anything else?” Qiyi looked at the dazzling gold mural on the wall, smiling. “Do you still remember that sword?”

Juechen snorted, got up, and tossed a plain-sheathed sword to him. Qiyi caught it steadily, his slender, white fingers brushing the simple patterns on the scabbard. He smiled, gripping the hilt lightly, the smile lingering at his lips.

Juechen leaned against the low couch, his cold face marked with a hint of amusement. Qiyi glanced at him, his long eyebrows raised. With a movement of his hand, the sword slid from its sheath. Qiyi’s smile remained, but his grip revealed bulging veins. Juechen’s eyes narrowed, an almost imperceptible smile at his lips.

Like a beauty unveiling her veil, the sword, finally unsealed after years, was utterly unlike its ancient sheath—bright, sharp, cold, its surface seeming to swirl with faint mist. A dragon coiled along the blade, from tip to hilt, majestic and fierce.

Qiyi tapped the blade, drawing a deep, clear ring. He waved the sword a few times, the blade singing with each movement. He paused, sheathed the sword, and mused, “A shallow box cannot restrain a fine blade; jade hidden in stone is still exquisite. Truly a fine sword!”

“In that case, I’ll give it to you.” Juechen said casually. Qiyi placed the sword on the couch, shaking his head. “I already have a sword.”

Juechen had expected his lifelong attachment to this sword would make him accept gladly, but was surprised by the refusal. He paused, then nodded. “That’s fine. A sword’s worth is not in its name.” Qiyi looked into the man’s dark green eyes, smiling. “Are you curious why I declined?”

Juechen raised an eyebrow. Qiyi sat back on the couch, poured tea for him and himself. “This is a treasured sword, one any swordsman would covet. Yet—it isn’t suited for me.” He took a sip. “My sword may not be a treasure, but it suits me best.”

A sword’s worth lies not in its fame, but in its fit.

Juechen rubbed the jade ring on his thumb, slowly smiling. “So it is.” He lounged lazily, the harshness in his features softened by a gentle light. The smile blooming at his moist red lips outshone the brightest flowers.

Qiyi watched him, a smile in his phoenix eyes. The youth’s striking visage, the vivid cinnabar mark, the charm at his brows and eyes, the soft glow in his dark gaze, all shone resplendent—yet his hands, resting on his knees, were tightly entwined.

Sunlight spilled like gold across their bodies, suffused with an indescribable tenderness.

“Do you use a sword, brother?” Just as desire threatened to burst forth, Qiyi quickly withdrew his gaze. Juechen, seemingly unaware, lifted his teacup, sipping lightly. “Sometimes.” At his level, weapons were unnecessary; anything could become a deadly instrument.

A flower, a blade of grass, a leaf, a stone—even a strand of hair.

Qiyi rose, handed the sword to Juechen, smiling. “In that case, would you mind sparring with me?” Juechen took the sword, glanced at it, and nodded. “Why not?”

Leaves carpeted the courtyard. Qiyi and Juechen stood side by side, their robes billowing—pale yellow and deep green intermingling.

The slender sword slid from his sleeve. Qiyi smiled at Juechen, who lowered his gaze, drawing the sword with a metallic ring, then leveled it at his chest. “I’ll let you have five moves.” Qiyi’s eyelids flickered, nodding with a smile. “Thank you, brother.” Before the words faded, the sword flashed.

Juechen’s hands stayed still; he shifted slightly to the left.

First move missed. Qiyi’s smile didn’t falter; he reversed his grip to strike at Juechen’s right flank. Juechen retreated, dodging, spun behind Qiyi, lips curling deeper. Qiyi stood unmoving, the sword thrust over his shoulder straight at Juechen’s right shoulder—precise.

Advance and retreat, five moves passed. Qiyi’s eyes narrowed, his left foot tapped the ground as he leapt back. A gust swept past, a lock of black hair fluttered in the air. Juechen stepped forward, the sword tip aimed at Qiyi’s throat. The youth spun in midair, narrowly evading; the severed strand of hair floated gently down.

Qiyi steadied himself, turned to see the sharp sword pointed at him. Juechen withdrew, expressionless. “You lost.” Qiyi’s long brows knit for a moment, then relaxed. He looked at Juechen, smiling. “I lost.” He knew he was no match for the man, but hadn’t expected to fall in less than three moves.

A yellow leaf landed on Juechen’s black hair. Qiyi moved to him, plucking the leaf from his hair. “You are truly formidable, brother.” Sheathing his sword, Juechen smiled. “You’re not bad yourself.”

Qiyi only smiled, tossing the leaf aside. “Winter is near.” He gazed at the leaf-strewn ground, golden as scattered foil. Juechen nodded. “Let’s go inside.”

Qiyi slipped his sword back into his sleeve, watching the man’s proud figure. A shadow flickered in his dark eyes, then vanished as he strode after him.

Returning the sword to its place, Juechen clapped his hands. A group of maids brought trays of fruit and pastries, setting them on the round table. Qiyi sat, took a piece of water chestnut cake, and put it in his mouth. A crumb stuck to his lip. Juechen wiped it away, his delicate fingers brushing the warm lips. Qiyi stiffened, then smiled, holding the cake to Juechen’s lips. “Would you like some, brother?”

Juechen glanced down, biting off the offered cake. He raised an eyebrow. “It tastes good.”

Author’s note: Second update

Thank you, girls, for your continued support—mwah~