Remnants of Filth(Yuwu) Volumes 1-5

BUT IT WASN'T GU MANG- of course it wouldn't be Gu Mang. Mo Xi mocked himself as What was he thinking? he came to his senses.

The speaker was a man with gentle features. He sat in a wooden wheelchair, a white coat draped over his shoulders and a blanket the color of lotus root tucked over his paralyzed legs.

Mo Xi was rather taken aback. "Qingxu Elder?"

Qingxu Elder, Jiang Yexue. He was Yue Chenqing's elder brother.

Jiang Yexue was different from Yue Chenqing, that carefree and silly kid. He had lived a hard and spartan life. His mother had passed away when he was young, and later, because he insisted on marrying the daughter of a criminal, he had been kicked out of the Yue Clan.

At the time, he and his maiden hadn't had much money, so their wedding was very simple. Due to pressure from the Yue Clan, only a few people had persevered to attend-two of whom were Mo Xi and Gu Mang.

Mo Xi had gifted them a small courtyard. Gu Mang stared tongue-tied at the land deed and told Jiang Yexue, "Bro, I'm totally broke, there's no way I can afford to get you one of these." Everyone laughed, and amid the cheer, Gu Mang puffed out his cheeks and played them "Song of Courtship(9)" on his suona.

layout the good times didn't last. Jiang Yexue and his wife both joined the military. The battlefield was pitiless, taking first his wife and then his legs.

Mo Xi didn't know how this man had endured. Fortunately, Jiang Yexue was tougher than he looked. In the end, he pulled him. self together and secured a position as an elder at the cultivation academy, instructing students in the practice of artificing. But this had angered his father, as the Yue Clan was the most powerful noble family of artificers in Chonghua. Yue Juntian immediately ordered the cultivation academy to oust Jiang Yexue from his position.

"This unfilial son was disowned and no longer shares our sur- name! How dare he make a living off the Yue Clan's work!"

The headmaster couldn't convince Yue Juntian otherwise and had no choice but to apologetically let Jiang Yexue go.

After watching this take place, Mo Xi had decided to find Jiang Yexue a position at the Bureau of Military Affairs. Yet unexpectedly, the very next day-before Mo Xi could even bring it up-the head- master of the cultivation academy begged Jiang Yexue to return. This time, no matter how the Yue Clan cried foul, it was no use; the headmaster only said that they had "taken advice from a dear friend."

To this day, the identity of that dear friend was a mystery in Chonghua.

Jiang Yexue and the Yue Clan loathed each other; he rarely ever appeared at these feasts, which was why Mo Xi was so startled to see him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I..." Jiang Yexue said. "I came to see Chenqing."

Yue Chenqing had been young when Jiang Yexue left. Although many of his memories had faded by now, this older brother had never really let go of his little sibling.

Yue Chenqing was unwilling to acknowledge Jiang Yexue as his brother, but in truth, he didn't make trouble for him like his breth- ren did.

"And to see you." Jiang Yexue smiled. "There was no sign of you anywhere. I thought maybe you couldn't bear the noise, so I came to the terrace to look for you. And as I expected, you're out here standing in the wind."

"If you want to find me, someone send word. Why come out have yourself? It's best not to expose those wounds on your legs to the cold. I'll help you back inside."

"It's nothing. They haven't hurt in a long time," Jiang Yexue said. "I came here to thank you. Chenqing is immature, and I'm grateful to you for taking care of him the past two years."

Mo Xi was silent for a while. "Your brother is still young," he said. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to have some fun. Besides, he's actually made quite a lot of progress these two years at the frontier."

"Is that so?" Jiang Yexue smiled warmly. "He didn't cause any trouble for you?"

A pause. "Only the slightest bit. He was still more help than anything."

Jiang Yexue sighed and nodded. "Good, that's good."

They were quiet for a moment. The breeze rustled through the tassels hanging over Feiyao Terrace, setting them swaying.

"Xihe-jun, you've been gone for a long time," Jiang Yexue said abruptly. "I assume you haven't been able to keep up with many of the happenings in the capital." This man had always been clever,

observant, and exceptionally perceptive. "It's too noisy in the hall, and I don't want to return anytime soon. Xihe-jun, if there's any. thing you want to know, you only need to ask."

hinghere isn't anything in particular, really," Mo Xi said after a pause, He turned to look at the moon over the capital, the city lights below twinkling like stars. "I don't have any family here."

Jiang Yexue knew that Mo Xi was stiff by nature. He was in no rush, and simply nodded as he looked at him.

Just as he expected, Mo Xi soon cleared his throat to ask a ques- tion. "How have you been these past few years?"

Jiang Yexue smiled. "Not bad."

"What about His Imperial Majesty?"

"All has gone well for him."

"Princess Mengze?"

"Safe and sound."

"That's good," Mo Xi said, hesitant.

Jiang Yexue's eyes glimmered with an unreadable light. "Is there anything else you want to know about?"

"No." But a little later, Mo Xi finished the last bit of wine in his cup, gazed at the lustrous night, and finally couldn't help but ask, "What about Gu Mang...? How is he?"

The look in Jiang Yexue's eyes seemed to say, Ah, after all those twists and turns, you've finally mentioned him. He said, "Not well, of course."

Mo Xi said nothing for a moment, nodding slightly. His throat was a little dry. "I thought so."

"If you're willing, you should still go visit him. After spending so much time in such an abusive place, he...he's changed a great deal."

Mo Xi blinked in confusion. Frowning, he asked, "Where?"

Jiang Yexue hadn't expected this reaction. He widened his eyes, also dumbfounded. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

They regarded each other in silence. A great gale of laughter sud- denly came from the palace hall. The shadows of drunken men and women were cast against the windows, their silhouettes overlapping chaotically.

Mo Xi had a sudden realization, his eyes flying open. "He couldn't have been-"

"He's spent two years at Luomei Pavilion..." Jiang Yexue hadn't expected Yue Chenqing to keep such important information under wraps, and he was left a little uneasy at having to tell Mo Xi himself.

Mo Xi's face had taken on a sickly pallor.

Luomei Pavilion...

What kind of place was this? It was a land of bliss for the nobles and hell on earth for its prisoners. The people trapped in the pavilion were hollowed out and devoured overnight. The gentle were transfig- ured beyond recognition, the fierce likewise destroyed. It was a place that shattered the dignity of any slave, where one misfortune led to a lifetime of abuse. Life there was hundreds of times worse than death.

They had actually put Gu Mang there?

They had actually...put him...

Mo Xi swallowed thickly. The first time he tried to speak, nothing came out. Only on the second attempt did he manage anything coherent. "On Wangshu-jun's orders?"

Jiang Yexue paused, then sighed and nodded. "Wangshu-jun hates him. You know this."

Mo Xi was silent, abruptly turning away and looking into the boundless night. He didn't make another sound.

Ever since Gu Mang was sent back to Chonghua two years ago, Mo Xi hadn't thought much about what would become of him.

Ar the time, he hadn't known what exactly Gu Mang's punish ment would be. He'd thought that if Gu Mang were imprisoned, he might go take a look at him, or maybe sneer at and mock him a lite If Gu Mang became an invalid, he wouldn't sympathize; he might even go and make things harder for him.

So many years had passed. Even if they had once shared some thing soft, the accumulated hatred chance of reconciliation. ran too deep. There was no

The only circumstance under which Mo Xi could imagine ami- ably sharing a jug of wine with Gu Mang was in a cemetery, with Gu Mang buried in the earth, and himself standing upon it. Then he might talk to the man like he once had, and place a bouquet of red peonies shaped from spiritual energy on his grave.

At least that could afford them a peaceful final farewell.

But Gu Mang had always managed to surprise Mo Xi. Mo Xi hadn't expected that, even now, things would be the same.

Luomei Pavilion.

Those words tormented Mo Xi. He said them again and again in his mind, as if trying to glean the slightest bit of pleasure from them.

But in the end, he realized it was a useless endeavor. They gave him no satisfaction. Instead, he felt only extreme disgust and anger.

He didn't know where these feelings were coming from-wasn't karmic retribution supposed to be a cause for celebration?

Mo Xi propped his elbow against the carved railing. He wanted to move his fingers, but they felt far too stiff. He turned to look at Jiang Yexue's face, but he seemed indescribably blurry.

Waves of dizziness ran through him, and pangs of agony twisted his gut.

Gu Mang, sent to Luomei Pavilion.

For two years already.

Mo Xi thought he should burst into wild laughter. That would be the right thing to do; that would be in line with the bone-deep hatred everyone expected of him. At this thought, he really did mechanically move his mouth in an attempt to pry some joy out from within.

But all that came from between his teeth was a hollow scoff.

His vision seemed to flash with an image of that beautiful face he had seen the first time they met. Those smiling black eyes gazed at him in the sunlight. Nice to meet you, Mo-shidi.

Then he seemed to see a flash of Gu Mang's dazzling figure from after they enlisted, as he turned to blink at Mo Xi amid a noisy group of his scoundrel buddies. His long and slender eyes, slightly upturned at the ends, curved into tender crescents as he shot him a genuine smile.

He also thought of the sorts of things Gu Mang had said after he became a general.

There were grinning, glib-tongued quips. C'mere, enlist with Wangba today, and next year you'll be rich off soldier's pay.

There were furious shouts among mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Come on, if you've still got a pulse, you better hurry and crawl the fuck up! I'll take you home!

And then the time he knelt in the throne room, begging the emperor not to leave his soldiers in a mass grave:

"I want to ask healers to identify their bodies... Please, this isn't meaningless. Every soldier's gravestone should have their name on it. Your Imperial Majesty, I don't want my brothers to wander lost.

"They recognized me as their commander. Whether they're men or ghosts, I have to bring them home. I promised.

"They don't want a lavish funeral. They only want the names they deserved from the beginning."

And that last desperate, tearful howl as he lost control in front of the throne-

"So slaves deserve to die? So slaves don't deserve to be buried?!

They shed their blood just the same; they died just the same! They already didn't have parents, and now they don't even have names! How come the Yue Clan, Mo Clan, and Murong Clan's dead are heroes, but when my brothers die, they're thrown in a pit?! Tell me why!"

That was the first time Gu Mang had cried in the palace.

He wasn't merely kneeling. He was curled up, hunched over, crouching as he cried.

He'd returned straight from battle; he hadn't even washed away the filth and the blood. His face was covered with traces of soot, and his tears left patchy tracks.

In the throne room, this god of war who always represented hope on the battlefield was beaten back into his original lowly form, like an unidentified corpse.

The palace hall was filled with military and civil officials in solemn and proper attire. Many of them looked disdainfully at this com- moner general, whose clothes were tattered and unbearably filthy.

Gu Mang howled, choking back sobs, like a dying beast. "I said I'd take them home... Have some mercy, let me keep my promise...

But he knew it was useless. In the end, he stopped begging and he stopped crying. Instead, he muttered over and over, his eyes un- focused, almost as if speaking to wandering souls. "I'm sorry, it's my fault. I'm not worthy of being your general. I'm just a slave to..."

As these memories came to mind in bits and pieces, Mo Xi felt a splitting pain in his head. He brought his hand to his brow, covering his face in its shadow. Beneath an expanse of icy chill, his heart was wet and cold.

"Xihe-jun," Jiang Yexue said. "Are you okay?"

No one responded. After a long while, a toneless voice finally floated indifferently out through the shadows. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be."

Jiang Yexue looked at him and sighed. "How long have I known you? Why bother to pretend in front of me?"

The copper bells chimed from the eaves, and long yellow tassels danced in the wind.

"It used to be that the names Mo Xi and Gu Mang were always mentioned in the same breath. You learned cultivation at the academy together, you stepped onto the battlefield together, and you became generals together," Jiang Yexue said. "You remain as distinguished as ever, but he's long since fallen from grace. You had so many years of equal fame, you were dubbed the nation's Twin Jades, and now you're the only one left. I doubt you're truly pleased." Jiang Yexue paused, turning to look at Mo Xi. "Besides, he was once your very best friend."

Mo Xi lowered his long, thick lashes. "I was blind in my youth," he replied after a time.

"But after he defected, you still believed he had some secret. You believed that for a long time."

"My blindness was quite severe." Mo Xi said. He looked at the cup in his hand. A few drops of wine remained, glimmering the color of dusk. He didn't want to continue this conversation any longer.

"It's gotten windy. Qingxu Elder, let's return to the hall."

Mo Xi spent the next few days after he learned of Gu Mang's whereabouts in a state of deep irritation. At first, he tried to re- press this undesirable emotion, but as time passed, his frustration increased.

Mo Xi knew he'd grown sick in the heart, and only Luome Pavilion held the cure.

Finally, one night at twilight, a carriage draped in black gauze set out for the northern side of the capital.

Mo Xi sat in the compartment with his eyes closed. Even though the curtains were drawn and he was the only passenger, his posture was perfect. That ridiculously handsome face was completely devoid of expression, terrifyingly stern.

"My lord, we've arrived."

Mo Xi didn't immediately step out, merely pulling the curtain aside and looking out from the darkness.

This hour was the peak of the imperial capital's nighttime revelry, Lit by spiritual energy, two rows of extravagant plum blossom can- dles burned to augur the coming of spring, illuminating the scarlet inscription board high in the air: LUOMEI PAVILION.

Daybreak's wind blew colder than ice, only to wither so quickly into mud and filth.

Unlike other brothels, most of those on offer at Luomei were prisoners of war. Their spiritual cores had been broken, reducing them to captives and sex slaves.

"My lord, will you be going in?"

Mo Xi glanced toward the pavilion and recognized many of its patrons, all of them spoiled and rich young masters he especially disliked. He furrowed his brow. "Through the back door."

The carriage stopped at the rear of Luomei Pavilion. This was Mo Xi's first time coming to such a place; even though he'd always been the firm and decisive type, a sliver of self-loathing snaked into his heart. Only after repeatedly saying to himself, "This general came to exact revenge," within the carriage compartment did he descend with a stormy expression.

"Go back. You don't have to stay."

After delivering these instructions to his coachman, Mo Xi stood in place and looked over the terrain for a while before leaping elegantly to the roof and noiselessly slipping away under cover of darkness.

He'd studied Luomei Pavilion's layout before coming, so it wasn't hard to locate the area where the courtesans lived. Soon, he arrived at a secluded garden courtyard. He pulled the hood of his cape over his head and stepped through the main entrance like a regular guest, passing door after door of lacquered vermilion.

Priestess of the Flames, Sha Xuerou of Wan Ku

Handmaiden of the Flames, Qin Feng of Wan Ku

Deputy General of the Left Battalion, Tang Zhen of the Liao Kingdom

Official of the Left Battalion, Lin Huarong of Xueyu

Each occupant's country of origin, rank, and name were me- ticulously inscribed on a little wooden plaque hanging at their door. Everything was labeled clearly, so those clients with grudges against certain enemy nations could find a suitable target for their frustrations.

If a guest came to seek pleasure within, the name on the plaque would turn red; otherwise, it would be black.

At Luomei Pavilion, aside from sincerity, eternity, and those already dead, everything was available for purchase, quietly laid out on intangible shelves for the lords to take at will. With enough money, they could do anything.

These men and women's smiles, charms, bodies, and even each and every one of their lives was clearly priced out.

Mo Xi glanced across the doors, sleeves billowing as he strode past row upon row of corridors. The soundproofing was poor; thecries and moans of passion coming from the rooms were entirely too vivid. His frown grew deeper, and his heartbeat quickened-where was Gu Mang? He'd walked past dozens of rooms, but he still hadn't found that plaque.

He climbed to the second floor to continue his search.

Finally, Mo Xi came to a stop in a secluded corner. Before him was a dark wooden plaque with delicate lettering:

Traitorous Subject, Gu Mang of Chonghua

In the entire pavilion, this was the only one labeled "Chonghua."

Mo Xi's gaze landed on that little plaque with enough weight to crack it. In that moment, a dark flame seemed to ignite in those dark eyes, but its light was swiftly extinguished.

He reached out, then stopped, fingers frozen an inch from the door.

He had realized that the words on Gu Mang's plaque were red.

There was a client inside.