Quick Wear Dream Qiqi

In late spring, the city of Suzhou was shrouded in plum rain, and the lanterns of the Butterfly Teahouse glowed in the rain like warm yellow spots.

Xiao Jian was wearing a conical hat, and the bamboo leaf patterns on the hem of his clothes were still stained with the mist of southern Anhui.

He looked at the golden butterfly on the lintel of the teahouse, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the half jade pendant in his arms - it was a token of his love when he was separated from his sister twelve years ago.

"Please come in, sir," the waiter came forward, "We have our original 'Butterfly Playing with Pearls Tea', and..."

"Looking for your shopkeeper," Xiao Jian lowered his voice, "his surname is Xiao."

In the back hall, Xiaoyanzi was looking at the account book with worry, when she suddenly heard the word "Xiao" and the tip of her brush spread a blob of ink on the paper.

She looked up and saw the man standing in the corridor. Water droplets from the edge of his hat were dripping down his angular jaw, and the bamboo flute hanging around his waist was exactly the same as the one she remembered.

"Brother?" Her voice trembled, and the abacus in her hand clattered to the ground.

Xiao Jian took off his hat, revealing an old scar on his forehead - it was the scratch he received from bandits while trying to protect her.

"Little Swallow," his voice was filled with twelve years of longing, "Dad said before he died, 'Wherever the butterflies fly, there you will be.'"

Little Swallow flew into his arms and smelled the familiar scent of mugwort - it was his homemade anthelmintic.

She felt the knife wounds on his back, three more than the last time they met. "Where have you been all these years? Why didn't you come to see me earlier?"

Xiao Jian gently stroked the butterfly hairpin in her hair and touched the word "freedom" written in female script at the end of the hairpin.

He thought of the legend of "Princess Butterfly" he had heard about in the martial arts world over the years, and the storm she had stirred up in the Forbidden City. He suddenly chuckled, "My silly sister, it turns out you've already become a legend in the martial arts world."

At three quarters past midnight, under the eaves of the teahouse's back alley, Xiao Jian unfolded the yellowed family tree, and the firelight made his eyes red.

"Our original surname was Fang," he said, pointing to the blood-soaked pages of the family tree. "In the sixth year of Yongzheng's reign, my father's family was raided because of a literary inquisition. When my mother jumped into the well holding you, I was rescued by a loyal servant."

Xiaoyanzi held half of the jade pendant and put it together with Xiao Jian's half, revealing the "Fang" character engraved on the inside.

She suddenly remembered that when she was a child in a circus troupe, the old owner always said that she had "eyes like a little beast". It turned out that it was hatred engraved in her bones and blood.

"Is Qianlong the son of Yongzheng who destroyed our family?" Her voice trembled.

Xiao Jian nodded, and the bamboo flute made a dull sound in his palm: "I have been tracking his southern tour route for three years. Tomorrow he will pass by Hanshan Temple, and he will only have a few guards with him." He took out a butterfly dart soaked in anesthetic from his sleeve. The dart body was engraved with the same golden butterfly as the teahouse sign.

Xiaoyanzi looked at the butterfly on the dart and thought of Yongqi's butterfly whistle and Meng Qiqi's butterfly secret letter.

She suddenly grabbed Xiao Jian's wrist: "No! He...he raised me."

Xiao Jian was stunned. Raindrops fell into his pupils, shattering into the bloody night twelve years ago.

He saw the struggle in his sister's eyes, just like seeing the jade pendant floating by the well that year - half stained with blood, half reflecting the moon.

At the beginning of the Si hour, Qianlong dressed up as a wealthy businessman and strolled outside Hanshan Temple with Yongqi, Meng Qiqi and others.

Ziwei pointed at the Fengqiao Night Mooring Monument and explained Zhang Ji's poem to Benjamin in English, while Erkang vigilantly observed the crowd around them.

"Your Majesty," Qing'er reminded softly, "There's a stall selling butterfly sugar paintings up ahead."

Qianlong looked over and saw a woman in a green shirt standing next to the old man selling sugar paintings, with the familiar butterfly whistle hanging around her waist.

When the woman turned around, his pupils suddenly shrank - it was Xiaoyanzi!

"Xiaoyanzi?" Yongqi's voice was filled with surprise and panic.

Xiaoyanzi heard the voice and turned around to see a familiar face in the crowd.

Yongqi was wearing a navy blue jacket with butterfly patterns embroidered on the cuffs that she had given him; Meng Qiqi was wearing a Jiangnan brocade over her riding and shooting skirt, and the butterfly hairpin in her hair was a pair with hers; Ziwei was pulling Erkang's sleeve, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Why are you here?" There was surprise in her voice, and she subconsciously leaned closer to Xiao Jian.

Qianlong noticed her movements and his eyes fell on Xiao Jian.

The man stood in the shadows, holding a bamboo flute across his chest. The bamboo leaf tattoo on his sleeves was exactly the same as the one on Xiao Jian, the infamous "Blood Flute" in the martial arts world.

At three quarters past three in the afternoon, in the reed marsh beside Fengqiao, Xiao Jian's bamboo flute was pressed against Qianlong's throat, and Xiao Yanzi's butterfly whistle fell at his feet, emitting a slight tremor.

Yongqi's veins bulged on the hand holding the hilt of the sword, and Meng Qiqi signaled everyone not to act rashly.

"Xiao Jian!" Xiao Yanzi's voice was filled with tears, "He is..."

"I know who he is," Xiao Jian pressed his flute tighter, "The blood of the Fang family must be reclaimed."

Looking at the young man in front of him, Qianlong suddenly remembered the "orphan of the Fang family" recorded in the secret files of the clan office.

He noticed that the jade pendant on Xiao Jian's waist matched Xiao Yanzi's half, and he was surprised: This is Xiao Yanzi's biological brother.

"I do owe your Fang family an apology," Qianlong said in a steady voice, "but Xiaoyanzi..."

"Shut up!" Xiao Jian's flute tip pierced Qianlong's clothes. "Don't use her as a shield!"

Xiaoyanzi suddenly rushed in front of Qianlong, opening her arms. "Brother, if you want to kill him, kill me first! If it weren't for him, I would have died on the street all these years!"

Xiao Jian's hands trembled violently, and the bamboo flute fell to the ground with a clang.

He looked at the tears in his sister's eyes and remembered the rainy night twelve years ago when she had cried and grabbed the corner of his clothes, saying, "Brother, don't go."

At three quarters past ten, everyone took shelter in a dilapidated temple to avoid the rain.

Xiao Jian sat down against the broken monument, letting the rain drip down his chin, while Xiao Yanzi knelt in front of him, holding his calloused hand.

"After you left that year, I was sold into a circus," she said softly. "It was Emperor Qianlong who rescued me while on an incognito tour. He named me 'Little Swallow' and said, 'May you be as free as a swallow.'"

Xiao Jian looked at the moonlight leaking through the temple roof, and thought of the rumors about Emperor Qianlong's cruelty and capriciousness, which overlapped and diverged from the image of a kind father described by his sister.

He took out the butterfly dart from his arms. The gold powder on the dart was washed away by the rain, revealing the word "Qiu" engraved underneath.

"I've seen him in Chengde before," Meng Qiqi suddenly said, "He was reviewing memorials until midnight, using the butterfly paperweight that Xiaoyanzi gave him."

Yongqi pulled out the manuscript of "Women's Economic Theory" from his sleeve, tucked inside it was a chestnut shell bookmark that Xiaoyanzi had left for him. "The day she left the Forbidden City, she left a letter for the Emperor, saying, 'Your throne room should allow a true phoenix to fly.'"

Qianlong was silent for a long time, then took off the jade pendant from his waist and placed it in front of Xiao Jian: "This is your mother's relic. I took it out of the Taimiao after I ascended the throne and have always carried it with me."

At the beginning of the Yin hour, the rain stopped.

Xiao Jian stood at the door of the dilapidated temple, looking at the dawn rising in the east.

Qianlong walked up to him, and their shadows intertwined into complex shapes in the morning mist.

"The literary inquisition back then was my father's fault," Qianlong's voice was filled with rare fatigue, "but Xiaoyanzi is innocent. She shouldn't be trapped by hatred."

Xiao Jian turned around and saw Xiao Yanzi pinning a butterfly hairpin on Ziwei, Erkang teaching Benjamin how to play Nine Rings, and Meng Qiqi discussing the spice trade with Qing'er.

He suddenly remembered what his sister had just said: "Hatred is like a rainstorm that soaks everyone. I want to be a breeze that blows away the dark clouds."

He picked up the butterfly dart on the ground and broke it in two. "I can let go of my hatred, but there is one condition - allow Xiaoyanzi to freely choose where she wants to go."

Qianlong nodded and took out a secret decree from his sleeve: "I have already issued an order that Xiaoyanzi can enter and leave the Forbidden City freely at any time."

Xiao Jian looked at the Butterfly Teahouse in the distance. In the morning light, the golden butterfly sign was shining with warm light.

He finally smiled sincerely for the first time in twelve years and said to Qianlong, "Then let her be a real butterfly and go wherever she wants."