Huai Dream Grass, Soul Returning Incense 6 (12)
Madam Qian, caught in her fury, could no longer hear Qian Hua’s words—her eyes were fixed only on the image of Qian Duo writhing in pain.
“Your Highness, Your Highness,” Madam Qian pleaded, kneeling and bowing so hard that blood soon appeared on her forehead, “if you must vent your anger, take it out on Qian Hua. Her life is tough—she won’t die easily. That way Your Highness won’t bear a life on your conscience.”
The daughter being offered up stared at her mother’s unwavering determination, and all the emotions she had suppressed for years erupted.
“Mother,” Qian Hua cried, “if you hated me so much, why did you even give birth to me? Why did you save me when I got lost in the mountains?”
Madam Qian glared fiercely at the daughter kneeling before her, arms hanging limp at her sides. “You think I wanted to save you? If not for your kind-hearted sister, who would’ve bothered with you!”
Then she turned to Yin Guhuai and the others. “Your Highness, one daughter for another—would that do?”
Yin Guhuai looked at her, his tone calm yet cutting. “Madam Qian, anyone with sense knows—if you want to use someone as leverage, you must choose the one your opponent cares about. A choice between two matters only when both have value. You cherish one and discard the other. Tell me—why would anyone make that trade?”
Madam Qian froze. He was right. She’d miscalculated. Her little Duo had been gone for so long that the joy of seeing her again had thrown her off balance.
But there must still be a way—a way to turn things around.
“Your Highness,” she said quickly, “Miss Su fell into the water, her life or death unknown. You’ll have trouble explaining that to her family when you return. I can disguise Qian Hua as Miss Su. You can claim that Miss Su lost her memory from the shock. How about that?”
Thinking she’d come up with a brilliant plan, Madam Qian smiled smugly. Qian Hua, who had been drowning in despair moments ago, suddenly brightened. Her mother did love her after all. The thought of wearing Su Qingtang’s fine clothes—and perhaps even taking her place beside the prince—filled her eyes with light.
She looked down at her bloodied hands. The pain didn’t matter. It was all worth it—for her mother’s love, and for the affection of the young prince. This suffering was merely her trial.
A cold drop splashed onto Yin Guhuai’s cheek. He reached up—it was rain?
The wind howled through the trees, and the grasses rustled violently. Yin Guhuai guessed it wasn’t rain—it was those little spirits again, stirring up mischief.
He didn’t bother wiping the droplets away. “Do you think I take in any trash that comes my way? Su Qingtang’s accident is my responsibility. And you—who are you to decide the fate of the daughter the Su family raised with such love and care? What gives you that right—your so-called ‘opportunity’ gained from sacrificing your own husband and child?”
A flash of lightning tore across the sky, illuminating every face. Everyone could see the panic etched clearly across Madam Qian’s sweaty features.
“I investigated before I came,” Yin Guhuai continued. “The Director of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau told me that your husband was a fengshui master—skilled in geomancy, and deeply devoted to both his daughters.”
“If he was so skilled, he must have known something about the fengshui here. If he stayed, it must be because he discovered something. A loyal man would report such things to the court. Since he didn’t—it means he thought he could control it.”
Yin Guhuai hesitated before voicing his suspicion. Finally, he sighed and drew out the dragon sinew he had found. “You discovered the dragon this belongs to, didn’t you? You stripped its tendon?”
“No! No, it wasn’t us! It wasn’t!” Madam Qian staggered backward, then forward again. “I don’t know anything! I truly don’t!”
At that moment, a deep dragon’s roar echoed from within the mountain. A powerful dragon aura surged upward from below the cliff, accompanied by a joyful voice—
“Brother Huai! I’m back!”
The dragon sinew in Yin Guhuai’s hand suddenly flew toward the source of the voice. The sound-transmitting conch shattered. A sharp pain struck his chest, forcing him to stumble back several steps.
“Your Highness!”
Gu Quan rushed forward. Blood dripped from Yin Guhuai’s lips. How could this be? That was clearly Miss Su’s voice—so why was the prince coughing blood?
Then an even stronger wave of dragon power burst forth. Everyone felt it—a great demon had awakened.
Madam Qian clutched at the air in terror, shouting, “Don’t come closer! I’ll give you my eldest daughter! She’s never married, never been touched by a man—she’s pure!”
Yin Guhuai, being of dragon blood himself, was less affected. “Senior, I am of the Yinglong line. My father is Xuancang. Do you know him?”
“Xuancang?” The voice reverberated from beneath the earth, echoing through the valley.
Lightning struck again, illuminating two enormous dragon silhouettes on the distant mountainside. As the mist cleared, their forms became distinct.
“Your Highness!” Su Qingtang’s tiny figure stood atop the smaller dragon’s head, waving energetically. “Do you see me?”
Then she slapped the dragon’s lone remaining horn. “You promised! I saved your father, now you have to return me to His Highness!”
The little dragon glanced silently at the larger one, mumbled an “oh,” and began flying toward the cliff. When they drew close to the ground, Su Qingtang leaped down and flung herself into Yin Guhuai’s arms.
“Your Highness!”
He caught her, then looked toward the dragons. “Senior, are you well?”
The larger dragon swatted the smaller one lightly, and both transformed into human form. “I am well,” the elder said. “Tell me—what year is it now?”
Yin Guhuai opened his mouth to answer, but the dragon—Motu—waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
His gaze then shifted to the two women sitting bleeding on the ground. Dragons were highly sensitive to the scent of blood. “You,” he said to Madam Qian, “you are Tianming’s mate?”
Memories flashed rapidly through her mind—her husband, Qian Tianming, the famed geomancer of the Astronomical Bureau.
“I discovered it,” she whispered. “There was a dragon in Mount Wunian! The Huai Dream Grass grows beside it—it allows one to fulfill their deepest regrets within dreams.”
“Then let’s report this to the Bureau,” she had said back then, holding the young Qian Hua’s hand. “The Emperor is of dragon blood too. He might help.”
But Qian Tianming had stopped her. “No. There’s more than one dragon—and that grass has spirit. It grows only near dragons. That means the dragon is wounded. If we tell the Emperor, he’ll send the Crown Prince. Then we’ll lose our chance to study it.”
“Study it?”
“Of course! To resolve lifelong regrets—that’s what everyone dreams of! And it’s likely tied to dragon blood. The Emperor would never permit such a thing.”
His face had grown wild, eyes gleaming with fanatic desire. Madam Qian knew she couldn’t stop him and could only hope his research would soon end.
But things grew stranger. He returned home later and later each night, thinner, paler. By then, Qian Duo had been born—and one night, Madam Qian found her playing with a piece of dragon tendon, murmuring, “Kill him. Drain the blood. Continue the experiment.”
How could a child know such things? Terrified, Madam Qian told her husband and begged him to leave the mountain for help. But instead of fear, Qian Tianming had been elated. He confessed—he had ground a fragment of the dragon’s horn into powder and fed it to Qian Duo. And now—Qian Duo could speak to spirits.
Still worried, Madam Qian often sent Qian Hua to accompany her sister. But as Qian Duo began finding rare treasures in the mountains even as a little girl, Madam Qian’s fear slowly faded, replaced by pride. She even wished Qian Hua had the same gift. But after Tianming forbade anyone from using the remaining dragon horn, she gave up that thought and focused only on daily life.
The calamity struck on a stormy night—the heaviest rain they’d ever seen since moving there. Only she and the sleeping Qian Duo were home. She waited anxiously at the window for her husband and younger daughter.
Then she heard it—a dragon’s roar, followed by a cry of anguish.
Moments later, her daughter stumbled home, dragging something behind her. She rushed out into the storm to help—and froze when she saw what it was. Pieces of flesh.
Qian Duo, weeping, told her that it was Qian Tianming. He had tried to harm the small dragon and was killed in retaliation. Only she survived because she had consumed the powdered horn.
That night burned into their memories forever—though Qian Hua had slept through it all.
Afterward, Qian Duo entered the mountains more often and stayed longer—until one day, she never returned. Desperate, Madam Qian searched her husband’s notes and found among them a crimson grass pressed between pages—Huai Dream Grass.
She sought out every master she could using her husband’s name, but all failed her. In the end, her eyes turned toward the palace.
Now, the rain fell quietly as everyone listened to her story. Water streamed down her wrinkled face—it was impossible to tell if they were raindrops or tears.
Qian Hua rose, stepping closer to her mother, then crouched before her. “Was I the first experiment?” she asked softly. “That Huai Dream Grass—you put it in my hand, didn’t you?”
The rain masked many scents, even that of the Soul-Returning Incense. Madam Qian’s mind cleared. She wiped her face and turned away in silence.
What explanation was left?
It was all a lie—parental love, sisterly affection—all lies.
Silence fell. Only the patter of rain filled the air.
Then—
“Um… this might not be the right time,” Su Qingtang’s voice echoed in everyone’s minds. She looked up at Yin Guhuai, who had wordlessly cast a barrier to shield her from the rain, then at the little spirits hovering nervously around her.
The spirits avoided Motu. “We know,” one of them whispered. “Old Qian meddled with powers he shouldn’t have. He was destroyed by his own obsession. Justice, plain and simple.”
“But… about the dragon aura…” another, more learned-looking spirit murmured hesitantly.
“Spit it out,” Su Qingtang urged.
“We can see auras. You know that. But right now, there are four people here carrying dragon aura.”
Su Qingtang blinked, poking her head out from under the barrier, counting aloud. “Big dragon, little dragon, our noble prince—three. Who’s the fourth?”
The spirits all blinked, then raised their tiny hands and pointed in unison.
“Her.”
Su Qingtang followed their fingers—and when she saw who they meant, she froze in disbelief.
“Impossible.”