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Chapter 14 - Family

That Qigai made up his mind, he would go see his family as they called for him.

Qigai pressed his hand to the cool stone wall, breath held as he crouched in the narrow corridor that curved around the outer courtyard of the temple. The moon hung low, casting pale light through the small window slits. It painted stripes along the floor like prison bars made from silver. His staff trembled in his grip. Not from fear, but anticipation. Tonight, he would not remain hidden like a ghost in the walls. Tonight, he would walk the city like any boy who had known joy.

The door to the side passage had been left unlatched. He had watched the monk who forgot to secure it every night for a week. The man always passed through just after evening chants and always went off to pray in the central chamber for hours. Qigai waited until the last bell had rung, until the footsteps grew distant. Then he moved.

He did not walk fast. His legs would not allow it. He moved slowly, leaning on his staff, each step accompanied by a dull thud. But he knew how to make his silence speak louder than noise. He had learned that from the rats in the shrine. They taught him how to move through shadow. How to slip between notice and noise.

The temple gate groaned as he pushed it. His back ached, but he forced his weight forward. The wood gave way and he slipped through, out into the city, into a world he had only glimpsed from behind stone and silence.

The capital lay open before him.

Tianran was not just a city. It was a breathing thing. Its streets twisted like vines around the bones of old palaces and market halls. Lanterns burned on every corner, their flames dancing in glass cages. The scent of spiced meat, honeyed rice, and fermented plum wine wafted through the air. Qigai breathed it all in, feeling alive for the first time.

He walked with wonder. Every step brought a new sight. A man played a stringed instrument with his toes while standing on his hands. A woman with hair like flowing ink balanced five bowls on her head as she danced. Children ran past him, their laughter as bright as festival bells. No one stopped him, though many stared. His full wooden mask turned heads. His hunched frame made mothers clutch their children a little closer. But no one spoke. No one shooed him away.

He found a group gathered around a storyteller who sat atop a wooden crate, his voice deep and smooth like river stones. The tale was of a dragon who fell in love with a mortal girl. Qigai sat among the crowd, legs crossed beneath him, and listened as if he too had once known love.

He passed a man painting verses on silk banners. The characters danced in crimson ink, lines so elegant they seemed to sing. Qigai stood there for a long while, just watching. The man noticed him and gave a slow nod, but said nothing.

He had no money, but the city still gave. A vendor saw his mask and offered him a warm bun, perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of kindness. Qigai took it in both hands, bowing low, and ate it slowly, savoring every grain of rice stuffed inside.

He watched street duels with wooden swords, fire breathers, jugglers, dancers who moved like water. He stood by a shrine of the god of fire and clapped along with a group of drummers whose beats echoed through the streets like thunder on silk.

All the while, the palace loomed in the distance. Its towers rose above the rooftops, touched by gold and moonlight. He followed the crowds. The streets began to slope upward. Carriages rolled past, each more adorned than the last. Lanterns were strung like stars across the gates.

Tonight was a celebration. He heard it whispered again and again. The queen's birthday.

The palace gates were wide open. Guards stood at the sides, but they did not stop the endless flow of nobles, merchants, and distant kin who came bearing gifts and gossip. Qigai slipped in among them. He kept his head low, staff clutched tight, and moved with the slow certainty of someone who belonged.

He had made it.

He was inside.

And now, he would see them.

He looked up. The sky above the courtyard was thick with floating lanterns. Dozens, then hundreds, rising like fireflies into the heavens. Their light flickered against the dark.

For me, he thought.

They are doing this for me.

He did not know the truth. That this was a celebration of the queen, not the lost child. That his name had not passed through the mouths of the guests tonight. That the light above him had nothing to do with him.

But in that moment, he believed.

He stepped farther in, drawn by the warmth and beauty of it all. The night was not yet over.

And Qigai, for once in his life, felt something close to joy.

Qigai followed the crowd and soon ahead of home a lake shimmered beneath it, wrapping around the foundation like a silver serpent. Pavilions bloomed atop the still water, delicate and radiant, strung with glowing lanterns that danced with candlelight. Music trailed through the air like sweet smoke. Qigai stood before it, hunched, his wooden mask reflecting the golden lights. His robes were modest, worn with dust from the streets, and his staff clutched tight in his hand as if it might hold him upright through sheer will.

He did not belong, but he would enter. He had to see them. His family. His blood.

Servants hurried about with trays of sweet wine and fruit, too busy to notice the figure weaving between noble guests. Nobles, lords, ladies, all in silks that glittered like stars, strolled along the bridge toward the grand pavilion. Qigai walked with them. They stared, yes. Some whispered. Some turned away. But no one stopped him.

The music grew louder. Drums, zithers, flutes. The night sang. Qigai stepped into the pavilion.

Silence fell.

Hundreds of eyes turned to him, cutting through the air like drawn swords. The nobles fell into murmurs, clutching their wine cups and leaning toward one another. Qigai froze under their gaze. He felt his breath halt behind his mask.

And then he saw her.

Lady Xuelian.

His mother.

She sat in her wheeled seat, a blanket over her lap, her beauty still unmatched despite the stillness of her limbs. Her face was painted with the grace of royalty, lips red as blood, eyes sharp as blades.

"Mother" the words came out of Qigai's mouth, they were croak, and soft but hearable, Xuelian swung her head to face him.

When she saw him, her face changed. Her jaw tightened. Her lips trembled, not with joy or surprise, but with horror. A look that said he was a curse given flesh.

"Who let that thing in here?" she whispered.

"Is that… him?" someone asked. A noble lady covered her mouth.

"He walks like a broken goat," another muttered, "and that mask… what is he hiding?"

Lady Meiyin, dressed in golden robes, stood beside her own sons. She smiled slyly. "It seems the fire god gave him two feet, but not the dignity to stay hidden." Xuelian clenched her fists after hearing Meiyin's words.

Qigai took a step forward. "Mother…" he said. His voice cracked. "I came… because I saw the lights. I thought…"

Xuelian turned her face away. "You thought wrong."

No longer able to control her anger, Huali stepped forward. Her crimson robe shimmered with flame-threaded embroidery. Her hair was pulled back in a crown of red pearls. She held a wine cup in one hand.

"I should burn you where you stand," she said. "You should have died with the midwives you cursed."

Huowen who stood next to her looked at her in disbelief then looked back to Qigai, this was the first time he had ever seen his brother and he didn't know how to feel.

Qigai looked to his father. Baishen Rongxu stood at the head of the gathering, tall and proud, face like carved stone. He had not moved. He had not spoken. Qigai turned toward him, stepping forward with his limp, dragging his leg.

"I don't understand what is happening…." he stammered.

Rongxu did not look at him.

Qigai turned to the others. Lieyan and Hongjian stood with stiff faces. They said nothing. Even Baishen Lanyue, whose eyes had always been kinder than her siblings, looked away.

"I came to see you all, Daoming told me stories of each and everyone of you.." Qigai said, tears rising in his voice. "I thought… if you saw me… maybe you would…"

Huali stepped forward. She poured her wine on his shoulder. It soaked through his robes, cold and fragrant.

"Go back to the shadows where you belong," she said. "You are not one of us."

"I am Baishen Qigai," he said. "I am your blood."

"You are mistaken," Xiuying said. "You are just, Qigai, you're not a Baishen."

"You ruined my mother's body," Huali shouted. "You left her crippled. She screams in her sleep because of you."

"I was only a baby…"

"You were a curse," Xuelian snapped. "Nothing more. You should have been drowned."

Qigai fell to his knees. "Please. I have done nothing but suffer. All I want… is to be seen. Just once. Let me stand beside you, even in the shadows."

"Enough," Rongxu said. His voice rang like thunder. The room fell silent. He looked at Qigai for the first time. His eyes were cold.

"You are not my son and even if the fire god was to pick you during your churning, it wouldn't matter you will NEVER BE A BAISHEN, you are a stain to our bloodline."

The gasps of nobles feeling the room, the king publicly disowning his son, never in the history of Yanhuang has such a thing happened that day something inside Qigai broke.

"No…" he whispered. "No, I am yours. I wear your name. I breathe your breath. Do not cast me out."

"Guards," Rongxu said.

In a panic he looked to his mother pleading for help "No! No! Mother, please!" Qigai screamed.

Xuelian turned her chair away.

The guards seized him. Huali stepped forward and kicked him across the pavilion. He fell, mask scraping the floor. Laughter erupted. Nobles sipped their wine and shook their heads.

"Throw it out," someone said. "Before the queen's birthday is ruined."

Qigai clawed at the floor. "Please! I beg you!"

He was dragged by his arms, staff falling behind him. His mask clung to his face until they threw him down the palace steps. It cracked when he hit the stone. His face struck a rock. Pain bloomed across his cheek. The mask slipped free.

One guard gasped. Another turned pale. His face… half melted with scales on it and scars like twisted bark, while another ear grew inwards and he barely has a nose , one eye white and dead.

"Close the gate!" one shouted.

The iron gates slammed shut.

Qigai crawled to them, banging his fist.

"Open! Please! I will do anything!"

"Monster," a guard muttered. "Stay in the dark."

He stood there for a long time, until the guards walked away. Then he stumbled down the steps and back into the city.

The capital had changed. The night no longer danced. The lanterns no longer sang.

A child ran into him. The boy looked up and saw his face.

He screamed.

The scream tore through the street like a bell. Heads turned. People shouted. Someone pointed.

"It is the monster!"

Qigai turned to run. Stones struck his side. Another hit his back. Someone grabbed his sleeve and ripped it. He swung his staff, but more hands pulled at him. They dragged him down.

"Die!" a voice shouted.

"Filth!"

"Burn it!"

A boot struck his chest. Another hit his shoulder. Qigai curled into himself, tears pouring from his good eye.

Please, gods, let it end.

A voice broke through.

"Stop!"

Daoming's voice.

"Get away from him!"

Qigai's world faded into black.

He smiled through the blood.

At least someone had come.

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