Spring Festival
October 30, 2025 at 10:50 AM
— A-Qing, – the girl said excitedly. Mu Qing, focused on carefully combing her hair into a low ponytail, made a questioning sound.
He saw her shoulders tense, and her voice was barely hoarse, as if it was painful for her to speak. It was a little alarming, and Mu Qing wanted to ignore it, but he knew Jiao Ling was rarely tense or even frightened. Much more often, she played it off as a joke. He was carefully choosing an accessory that would suit Jiao Ling today, but his ears perked up.
— A girl will be arriving today, –Mu Qing saw in the mirror that she frowned slightly. — The youngest here.
— Younger than Hua-mei? – Mu Qing frowned in surprise. Jiao Ling nodded in response and whispered in a ruffled voice,
— She's only fourteen... – Mu Qing's stomach twisted, either in fear or disgust. He knew why girls came here, but he'd never considered how young they'd be when they were accepted into places like the Spring Houses. He'd hoped that girls that age could find other jobs, like he once had, but reality hit him like a cast-iron frying pan: no one wanted girls for regular jobs, especially young ones. No one would believe she could do anything, no one would believe she could help. Girls weren't welcome anywhere.
Now he understood why Jiao Ling had been so downcast today—she was so worried. Mu Qing himself, with the tension, was ready to scream, loudly and for a long time, preferably at whoever had hired the little girl. He pursed his lips and, to distract himself, walked over to the chest, taking out his pants and shirt.
With a bitter sigh, Jiao Ling stepped closer, threw her azure robe onto the floor, and, turning to face Mu Qing, spread her arms. As he put the shirt on her, Mu Qing was suddenly reminded of their first meeting.
— Jiao Ling, Lan Xue, – a rough male voice rang out. — You've got a new addition today. – He laughed loudly, and the man beckoned the young man over. Lan Xue, though she managed to maintain her composure, would never forget Jiao Ling's raised eyebrows and slightly open mouth.
— He'll help you, dress you, wash you, braid your hair, entertain you. Basically, whatever you want, – he finished thoughtfully.
— A-Ling, do you remember the first time we stood here? – The question slightly dispelled the girl's sullenness, and she giggled, then burst into such laughter that Mu Qing had to wait before putting her top layer of clothing on. He was glad he'd been able to relieve her of those nagging thoughts, even if only for a little while. — I remember! – Jiao Ling agreed loudly. — I was a little shy then, – she added shyly. Mu Qing rolled his eyes, but smiled tenderly and teased her: — You ran out of the room screaming, 'Help, you pervert!' in your underwear. – Jiao Ling snorted indignantly, her voice muffled as Mu Qing tried to adjust the tightness of her belt so it wouldn't hang loose. — I've never been dressed by a man before! – she declared, nodding at her own words. Mu Qing narrowed his eyes in amusement and even twitched the corner of his lips in a semblance of a smile. In fact, working here made Mu Qing increasingly recall his teenage years, when he was an assistant to His Highness Crown Prince Xianle. And although the work was almost identical, it felt easier to breathe here. The last years of working for the Crown Prince were rather strange:Several hours had passed since Xie Lian had saved the little boy from falling off the wall, and the prince had already fallen out with all his advisers, who had taken turns cursing him. The prince denied his guilt, and there was no talk of trying to win his argument. Everyone knew that Xie Lian was the most stubborn person in all of Xian Le. Everyone remained firm, and Mu Qing, to avoid being bombarded with insults and curses, escorted the cause of the argument—the little boy who had fallen off the wall—out to the courtyard.
— I don't think you should come back here. You're not welcome here. – This wasn't quite what Mu Qing intended, but the child seemed to understand and scurried down the street, expertly weaving through everyone in his path.
Who knew then that letting the child go would have been tantamount to a death sentence... Having seated Jiao Ling in front of the mirror again, Mu Qing began selecting jewelry. He settled on jade earrings. He picked them up and placed them against her ears, examining them before putting them on. — Do they match the color of your eyes? How do you like them? – he asked quietly. Jiao Ling smiled brightly and whispered, — Wonderful.***
— Qing-Qing! – Jiao Ling burst into the room with a loud, almost panicked cry. Mu Qing dropped the comb he was combing Lan Xue's hair with in surprise, and Lan Xue, in turn, cried out in fright. They both turned to the door, where Jiao Ling stood, trying to catch her breath, apparently from running. — Jiao-mei, – Lan Xue raised her eyebrows in surprise. — What happened? – She turned her frightened gaze to Mu Qing and began babbling, — A girl! The little one I told you about. They brought her... She's so small. – Jiao Ling pursed her lips and shook her head, — Don't care! The owner said to have her ready for this evening. – These words are like a guillotine, severing the head from the body with one sharp movement. Mu Qing hoped until the very end that the girl would be left alone, that she would be ignored, and that she would be transferred to an assistant. But the men of this city make him even more disappointed. He made the decision faster than he could comprehend, but he couldn't shake the thought. With a heavy sigh, he asked, — Is she alone already? – Jiao Ling nodded quickly. — Yes, yes, Master left as soon as he gave them the task. – Mu Qing grimaced. Despite the fact that Master had given them the work, he was perhaps the most disgusting person Mu Qing had ever known, and today it had reached its peak.***
Mu Qing found himself in the new employee hallway, where the new arrivals were settling in for the next couple of months, and knocked on the door. — Who's there? – a child's voice answered. Mu Qing couldn't tell from the girl's voice whether she was upset about something, but he didn't have to think long; a quiet sob immediately followed the answer. Mu Qing carefully opened the door and peered inside. — Hello. – The sight he saw somehow made his heart beat faster, breaking against the cage of his ribs: a girl, very small even for her age, sat in front of a mirror, quickly wiping tears from her flushed face with the sleeves of a tattered hanfu. Mu Qing pursed his lips and repeated, stepping closer: — Hello. I was tasked with preparing you, but... – He saw the girl flinch, but she tried to hide it with a feigned confident nod. — I have a little proposition for you, what's your name? – he asked tenderly. The girl narrowed her eyes intently, looking at Mu Qing through the mirror. And then he realized why the girl seemed so familiar: she looked like him. Just as lively and confident, just as broken by life. Not yet broken, but already in a terrible state. In the end, they even ended up in the same place. The girl didn't think long before blurting out: — Wu Long. – Mu Qing smiled at her and, picking up the comb, said: — My name is Mu Qing, I have something to offer you. – He picked up a few strands of her hair and began combing it. — This job... – He hesitated slightly, searching for the right words. — Not what you need. – He didn't have time to finish, and the girl, as he expected, flared up: — If I had a choice, I'd hardly even glance in that direction! – She jumped up, turning to face Mu Qing: her lips were trembling, and her brown eyes were moist, but she held on, not allowing herself to cry. Mu Qing wasn't angry; he understood her. Slowly nodding, he gently took her shoulders, but that didn't stop her from shuddering. — I'm offering you a choice, Wu Long. – The girl froze, her eyes wide open in disbelief, once or twice, and then, as if she'd broken down, burst into tears, clutching the sleeves of his hanfu. — Don't joke like that! – she barked. — Don't jo-o-oke... – Her scream rose to a roar again. Tears mixed with the dirt on her face, and the girl kept rubbing it to stop. Mu Qing didn't know how to comfort her and didn't know what to do. He simply stroked her head and sighed: — You don't have to work here. — What do you mean? – she asked, taking a sharp breath. — I'll take you to my place and-... – She didn't let him finish: — No! – Mu Qing didn't interrupt her, merely tilting his head to the side, showing he was listening. — Nothing happens without a reason, you're just like them! – The girl didn't name names, but pointed to the closed door. Mu Qing guessed who she was talking about and almost felt sick; his always pale face now turned almost gray. He shook his head, sighed, and closed his brown eyes for a moment. — Nothing much, just cooking for me and mending my clothes, I don't know how. – Of course, it was all a blatant lie; there were few people in the city who could cook better than Mu Qing, and he was quite good at mending. But he knew that if he told Wu Long he'd take her away for free, not only would she not believe him, but she'd also be offended, thinking she couldn't help. — I'll pay you, – he added. — Five silver coins a day, okay? Wu Long thought for a moment, pursing her lips, then lifting her head, looking Mu Qing straight in the eye and nodding sharply. Mu Qing realized he wasn't telling her because he was afraid he'd burst into tears again. He smiled tenderly at her and turned her to face the mirror, running the comb through her hair again. — We'll finally braid your hair...***
Mu Qing was in high spirits: A-Long had promised to bring him some mantou, which she'd recently learned to make, today, and he was happy to see her. Since his mother's death, Mu Qing had rarely been home, preferring to spend time with the girls at the Flower House: chatting, helping them. The house seemed so empty and eerie that he didn't want to go back there. So many bad things had happened during the month he'd spent there that he didn't even want to remember them. But when Wu Long showed up, everything changed. Mu Qing began staying less late at work and was increasingly eager to return. He loved trying Wu Long's new dishes or watching her genuine admiration for his gifts and the delight she showed trying on new clothes. Wu Long became a small ray of light in his life, so small, almost unnoticed by others. But Mu Qing knew that without this ray of light, impenetrable darkness would set in and he would be lost once and for all. His thoughts were interrupted by a wild, terrified scream, and Mu Qing took off faster than he could have imagined. He didn't have to run long; just as he was leaving the corridor, he bumped into Wu Long. His Long-mei, her eyes now closed in pain, was now kneeling, shaking and clutching someone's hand, a huge hand in her hair. Mu Qing's vision seemed clouded with white smoke; he struck with such force that the stranger fell on his butt, despite being nearly twice his size. — A-Qing! – the girl sobbed and rushed toward him. She had grown slightly taller during their time with him, and now her disheveled hair tickled his nose. — What's going on? – he asked anxiously. The girl looked down and pursed her lips. — I brought lunch, – he said, only now noticing the neatly crafted white robes scattered across the floor. " — But this... this, – Wu Long shook with anger; she could barely speak without crying, and her face was so red and contorted that Mu Qing was afraid for her. Mu Qing gently squeezed her shoulder in support; the girl had long since gotten used to him and no longer flinched at any touch, which in itself brought joy. — He started groping me! – Wu Long sighed convulsively. — He said he'd never seen such little girls here... – Wu Long shuddered with disgust, and Mu Qing clenched his fist so hard he was sure his nails would leave white scars there tomorrow. He turned abruptly toward the stranger and drew his saber from its sheath. In fact, he never used it at work, training more at home, but this saber remained with him as a souvenir; he bought it just a couple of hours before learning of his mother's death. Zhanmadao. Mu Qing didn't listen to a word from the stranger's vile mouth, who tried to convince him that he was completely innocent. He simply raised the saber above his head and plunged it into the man's chest with such speed that Wu Long barely had time to comprehend what had happened. They both froze in place: Wu Long in shock and admiration, Mu Qing as if he had felt the blow himself. The blood barely managed to splash onto his hanfu and the death rattles reached his ears before Mu Qing exhaled heavily and fell to his knees, hitting the floor. The blow hadn't brought him the pain that now seemed to pierce his chest. Mu Qing looked up in fear at Wu Long, who was staring at him wide-eyed. Gritting his teeth in pain, he croaked, — A-Long, run home, I'll be back soon. – The girl nodded in shock, as if in a trance, picked up the saber that had fallen from his hands, and moved toward the exit. Mu Qing was glad she wouldn't see what would happen to him; he knew what it was, he'd seen it before and felt it firsthand. But Wu Long stopped in the doorway and turned her hazy gaze to Mu Qing, writhing in agony: a golden halo glittered around him, and he himself was boasting behind his head, grimacing. — You're ascending, huh? – Her voice was equal parts fear and admiration. She didn't need an answer; she walked past the stranger's dead body and disappeared through the door. Even a demon wouldn't want to see the smile that spread across her face in the courtyard: cruel, vengeful, and full of pleasure. On this day, the heavens thundered as no one had heard in a long time, and the clouds thickened into a pitch black. Today, on the spring festival, overcoming hellish pain, the God of War, the bringer of spring, ascended.
