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When her husband — her brother — sealed her meridians and dragged her through the mirror, Qin Su was certain she was about to die.
As Jin Guangyao turned the dagger over in his hands, she saw her opportunity not to.
The blade burned like fire then ice as it sunk into her flesh, its killing intent leeching vital energy from her body. Qin Su had chosen her location carefully, though. Madam Jin might not participate in night hunts, but the only daughter of the Qin Sect Leader was hardly ignorant of cultivation. With her meridians blocked, the dagger could not drain her qi completely.
Still hurt though. She collapsed to the floor, head spinning from the pain and the icy clawing of the dagger, and Jin Guangyao rushed forward to grab her. Shit. If he checked her pulse, he would know she wasn't truly dying.
But Jin Guangyao merely cried out her name, a desperate, heartbroken wail that Qin Su could almost believe was in earnest. Grief surged up in her, and rage along with it, both burning acrid within her chest. Qin Su had never fooled herself that her husband was a man without secrets, nor one unwilling to fight ruthlessly to achieve his aims. But that he'd kept the truth from her for so long, all gifts and gentle smiles and perfect manners, leaving Qin Su to wonder what was wrong with her when he never again touched her as a husband should a wife. Even after A-Song was killed…
A-Song. Her precious, perfect little boy, who Jin Guangyao had so calmly explained could only ever die.
No, however anguished Jin Guangyao might sound now, Qin Su knew the truth.
An argument broke out overhead, accusations and insinuations and questions whose answers only raised more questions.
Finally, Jin Guangyao set her down.
Swords were drawn.
So little Mo Xuanyu had revived the Yiling Patriarch somehow.
Wei Wuxian was a fool after all, Qin Su decided, to be given a second chance at life and plunge himself back into the same old shit. She was sick of it all. Sick of the secrets, sick of the lies, sick of the petty grabs for power between those who called themselves gentlemen. If they would only leave, Qin Su would run far, far away, and put this whole rotten world behind her.
There was more shouting, and more swords, and then Wei Wuxian fled with all the assembled cultivators chasing after him, and the treasure room fell silent at last.
When Qin Su risked a peek, she was alone.
She grit her teeth and pulled the dagger from her side with a hiss, letting the accursed thing clatter to the floor. She pulled herself into a meditative position and concentrated her qi on the meridians that were blocked, poking at the snarls like working out particularly stubborn knots with a needle. When the last block released, she felt the familiar warm tingle of her body beginning to heal her wound. A stabbing pain like a spike of ice remained at its center, and Qin Su suspected it would linger long after her flesh had healed. One more hurt to carry with her.
With a deep breath, she drew herself up and pushed her way through the bronze mirror back to Jin Guangyao's bedroom. To her surprise, there on his dressing table lay a purse full of money and a set of plain robes, with her sword in the stand beside it.
She left the peony hairpin he'd given her as a wedding gift in their place.
Then Qin Su mounted her sword to leave her home, her marriage, and her old life behind. And if a few tears fell through the night air as she rose, no one would be there to see them.