A Fated Union and Stirring Shadows
“So Father... crossed over?”
“He did. He was so thrilled, saying he'd finally won and thought he wouldn't be able to come to Hangzhou like this...”
“What did he say? What was the story he wanted to tell you?”
“He said let's live together. All cozy, hand in hand.”
Wijicheong said this as she gently stroked the hair of her daughter gazing up at her. The girl resembled her mother more than Danmok Hyeon-seong, but the shape of her earlobes and the way her eyebrows curved when she smiled evoked him.
“So that's how you ended up marrying Father?”
“Yes. We came to Hangzhou like that, and I gave birth to you, Ryeon, and then to Bi...”
Wijicheong trailed off with a soft smile, leaving the rest unsaid. At first, she had refused Danmok Hyeon-seong's proposal. With her days numbered, possessing nothing, already a burden on her stepbrother who had become a Huashan disciple—what right did she have to be anyone's bride? Especially the eldest son of a prestigious clan.
—I'm no different, with not much time left myself.
The young man smiled with a twisted expression, yet spoke politely.
It was a fact Wijicheong had already guessed. The resigned gaze of those with little time left couldn't be hidden, no matter how one tried.
—So we can't just bring a healthy person into the family and make them a widow, can we? And I can't go around shouting that I'm dying soon, so stop sending matchmakers.
—So, shall we, the soon-to-die, try living cozily together?
—I thought it was a fine plan. Wouldn't your brother feel relieved?
Indeed. With his frail sister on the brink, how could even a Huashan Daoist sort out his restless heart?
Thinking that way, Wijicheong gradually warmed to Danmok Hyeon-seong's scheme.
—But what of your clan's lineage? I probably can't bear children.
—With a sister and younger brother already, what worry is that? The living will manage it themselves.
Recognizing her heart was swayed, Danmok Hyeon-seong finally broke into a bright, relieved smile.
—Phew, I was on edge today too, thinking I'd lose again. Did you just eat and play Go all day?
—Something like that.
Yet who could have known? Fate's cruel jest would leave her alone here.
Wijicheong brushed Ryeon's cheek and smiled faintly.
“Back then, I kept thinking how glad I was that I let him win.”
* * *
As preparations for departing to Kyunghang Yunryeon proceeded steadily, Danmok Hyeon-yo stared at the luggage Wijicheong had packed for Danmok Ryeon, her face paling to the point of collapse as she pressed her forehead.
“Inner Lady! This... this is...!”
Gazing at Ryeon's plain, pristine white clothes—which could be called simple and pure in the best light, or indescribably shabby in the worst—Danmok Hyeon-yo let out a deep sigh.
“Frugal... I understand the Inner Lady's intent, but Kyunghang Yunryeon is where all the young stars gather. If they go dressed this... this threadbare... so neatly but plainly, won't people say the Danmok Clan is so poor they can't even clothe their children properly?”
Wijicheong smiled awkwardly, looking troubled. Danmok Hyeon-yo glanced down at the array of stark white garments before her and swept a hand over her face.
“Ryeon made a fortune with Qinglian Water. At least use that for nice clothes first...”
“It's money Ryeon earned—how could I spend it carelessly?”
“This is for Ryeon!”
“True, but she said she wants to use it to raise the children. And she's interested in expanding the escort agency too...”
Danmok Hyeon-yo had heard that much. Danmok Ryeon hadn't hidden her efforts to revive the clan.
“No, we can't spend all of Ryeon's money on that! Of course we'll contribute too. But still, sending her off in these ghostly white rags?”
“White clothes are like the Danmok Clan's symbol, aren't they? It should be fine.”
The Danmok Clan did favor white robes. But their white wasn't this 'utterly colorless, ghostly pale' sort. Their symbol was snow-white silk embroidered with silver thread, shimmering like a glittering snowfield!
“Of course it's not fine! And...”
Danmok Hyeon-yo pressed her forehead hard. Even as she struggled to extend the clan's influence in Henan Province, there were always unkind eyes watching. People treated her like the world's wicked woman, eyeing her brother's firstborn and second children living comfortably while she schemed to take their place.
But if they saw her dressing her dead brother's eldest daughter in rags while adorning her own daughter lavishly, what would they say!
“Last time the children went out together, and to the Geum Clan too, I said we must dress them properly.”
She hated comparisons, but dressing both children in such shabby clothes was out of the question, even in death. Danmok Seong's childhood had only a decade left—Danmok Hyeon-yo wanted to shower her with every splendor and beauty she could during that time.
Danmok Hyeon-yo pressed between her brows and, steeling herself, spoke.
“I'll handle Ryeon's clothes.”
“To go that far...”
“My husband's family is wealthy, so it's fine. Your husband's side is still recovering, so let me manage for now.”
They had to depart in half a month—how many outfits could she have made for Ryeon by then? And it wasn't just Ryeon's clothes. What about Danmok Hyeon-u's attire?
“Um, is... is that really so important?”
Wijicheong asked cautiously. At her words, Danmok Hyeon-yo jumped back as if stabbed by a sword.
“Even if we were going to Shaolin instead of Kyunghang Yunryeon, appearances matter! My new sister-in-law might think I'm vain, dressing flashily to show off with all these accessories. But people trample over you if you don't flaunt it.”
They mock the plainly dressed as too poor for proper clothes, judge wealth by jewelry, assume shallow learning from lack of funds!
“The ancient sages said one can have dignity even in humble garb. But why are they 'ancient' sages? Because reality isn't like that!”
After shouting, she belatedly realized it wasn't worth getting so worked up. Danmok Hyeon-yo flushed red and faltered.
But I'm always the only one fussing over appearances.
In the household, she alone obsessed over looks. The poor, frail orphan married to her respected brother was content with a single wildflower in her hair, wearing a soft smile that always pierced Danmok Hyeon-yo.
It felt like she was saying inner beauty mattered more than ornaments. Like no silk could hide her own shabby, sharp interior.
She knew it was an inferiority complex, but that didn't make her heart ache less.
“Ah... no, that's not what I meant. I didn't know such things well.”
This time, Danmok Hyeon-yo truly felt stabbed, holding her breath. No one knew Wijicheong's circumstances better than she—not even Danmok Hyeon-seong. She had prepared and gathered everything for Wijicheong's wedding.
When Wijicheong came to the Danmok estate as a bride, she truly had nothing. Even her sole stepbrother had taken the Daoist path at Huashan.
“So if appearances are truly that important, I think it's right for me to prepare Ryeon's clothes myself. Last time at the Geum Clan, we relied on Uncle.”
“Ah...”
“Could you introduce me to a good tailor?”
“...Of course. Did you think I wouldn't and say that?”
Unjustly riled, Danmok Hyeon-yo turned her head primly and nodded.
* * *
It was a damp, dim space. Amid the stench of rotting meat and blood, mingled with the overpowering smoke of dozens of incense sticks burning at once, a man slowly rose.
A shriveled lump dropped from his hand with a thud.
“...”
His lips were vividly red and full of life, but his face defied age. In the flickering shadows, he seemed around thirty; his shrewd eyes suggested fifty; his exposed fingertips looked like those of a pampered twenty-year-old noble who had never labored.
The man stood and kicked away the lump at his feet. At the tumbling sound, the presences outside the room held their breath tensely.
As he flung open the door, the people in the corridor prostrated themselves flat.
The hallway reeked of corpses, blood, and the incense burned to mask it.
“Valley Lord, did you cough?”
“Valley Lord, did you cough?”
Even emaciated and eyes gleaming with madness, the prone figures gazed at him with longing and adoration.