The Debt of Blood

Jin Xiu raised her head slowly, her lips pale but steady.
“So,” she said, “from what you’ve just said… it was I who flayed your skin back then?”

Bai Xi sneered. “Yes. Why? Do you regret it now?”

Jin Xiu forced herself upright, shaking her head.
“What a pity,” she said softly, “a pity that I only took your skin—
and not your life.”

Bai Xi’s gaze drifted toward the city lights beyond the palace walls.
Thousands of lamps flickered like the stars of another world.
Her eyes turned glassy, her voice almost wistful.
“Of course you didn’t kill me. You would never have let me die so easily.”
She turned back, her tone sharpening.
“Jin Xiu, you made me live a fate worse than death.”

Something flickered behind Jin Xiu’s eyes—a shadow of fear.
Still, she held her chin high. “Is that so?”

Bai Xi pulled a hairpin from her hair.
Her long black locks spilled out, rippling like silk in the wind.
“Yes,” she whispered, the air around her trembling.
“I’ve come to collect what you owe me.”

With a flick of her wrist, the silver hairpin sliced through the air.
Jin Xiu’s embroidered gown split cleanly down the middle.
A sharp tearing sound echoed across the hall—
and her robe fell away in two pieces, slipping from her shoulders.

Her white arms flailed instinctively, trying to cover herself.
Her terrified expression pleased Bai Xi greatly.

“What’s the matter? Frightened?” Bai Xi taunted, circling her prey.
She eyed the pale-blue underrobe that clung to Jin Xiu’s body,
the silk fabric outlining every curve.
“I’ve always wondered,” she said with a laugh,
“if I stripped you bare before the court,
and ground your pride beneath my feet—
would you still look so proud? So untouchable?”

Jin Xiu stepped backward, clutching her chest, her face white as paper.
“No… you can’t…”

Bai Xi’s eyes gleamed. “Can’t what?”

Jin Xiu’s jaw clenched. “Just kill me.”

Bai Xi shook her head slowly, her voice soft as falling ash.
“No. Death would be too kind.
I want you to live—to live wishing you hadn’t.”

The hairpin slashed through the air again.
A long tear appeared at Jin Xiu’s waist, revealing pale skin,
the curve of her navel catching the lamplight.
The guards around them froze, breath caught in their throats.

Jin Xiu screamed, trying to cover herself,
but another cut tore down her back.
Her slender spine arched like a pair of wings about to break free.
Her trembling white body became the cruelest spectacle of the feast.

Zhuo Yuan turned away, unable to bear the sight.

Jin Xiu’s cries split the air.
“Qin An! Qin An!”

The Emperor started, jolted from his horror, and rushed toward the man.
Qin An stood motionless, eyes blank, as if his soul had gone.
Zhuo Yuan shouted his name, to no effect.

Then, remembering the sword at Qin An’s waist,
he reached for it.

The moment his fingers brushed the hilt,
a cold blue light flared, searing his skin.

Qin An’s eyes snapped into focus.

Zhuo Yuan gasped in relief and, forgetting all formality, cried out,
“Go! Save Jin Xiu!”

By now, Jin Xiu’s underrobe hung in tatters,
her blush-pink corset the only thing left to cover her.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and glared at Bai Xi,
her voice hoarse but fierce.
“Bai Xi! I’ll repay this humiliation tenfold!”

Bai Xi twirled her silver hairpin between her fingers.
“Oh?” she murmured, amused.
She raised her arm again, ready to finish tearing the fabric apart.

Then—

Clang!

A black sword pierced through the barrier, shattering it in an explosion of light.

Qin An descended from above like a bolt of shadow.
One hand gripped the sword,
the other caught Jin Xiu as she fell.

“Your Highness, are you hurt?” he asked quickly—
but his eyes were fixed on Bai Xi.

Bai Xi glanced at the blade hovering just three inches from her throat.
Then she looked at Qin An and smiled coldly.

“What now, Qin An? Are you going to kill me again?”

He slipped off his outer cloak and wrapped it around Jin Xiu’s shoulders.
“Bai Xi,” he said quietly, “I won’t let you hurt the Princess.”

Bai Xi tilted her head, smiling with almost childlike innocence.
“Oh? And why not? Tell me—
why is it she could hurt me without consequence,
yet I cannot touch her? What logic is that?”

“I don’t know what happened between you,” Qin An said, shaking his head.
“But whatever it was—it belongs to another life.”

He twisted the sword slightly, the tip brushing her skin.
“In this life, I can’t allow you to harm her.”

Bai Xi froze, her breath shallow.
Then, after a long pause, she whispered,
“I see.”

Her voice was calm, like the first crack of ice across a frozen river.
Her stillness was terrifying.

“In that case,” she said softly, “I’ll kill you both.
You can die together—
a pair of cursed lovers in hell.”

A gust of wind roared through the hall.

From beneath her skirt, nine white tails unfurled,
writhing like living storms.
They lashed at the air, stirring wind and thunder.

Each step Bai Xi took was weightless, silent, ghostly.
The white marble floor gleamed beneath her feet,
as if she were walking upon her own reflection.

The air shuddered with every flick of her tails.
Pillars three men thick shattered into dust.
The grand hall of Qingfeng trembled, about to collapse.

Qin An drew Jin Xiu behind him, retreating in alarm,
but Bai Xi only advanced—her expression cold and distant.

And then—

A hand caught her wrist.

“Bai Xi,” a voice said behind her, firm and low,
“it’s time to go.”

She stiffened, as if struck by lightning.

It was Gu Yi.

Her tails vanished in a rush of air.

She turned toward him, eyes wide,
staring as though she had seen a ghost.

Then she stepped backward—once, twice—
and leapt into the air.

In a blink, she was gone.

Only silence remained,
and the smell of smoke and broken dreams.