Underneath The Moonlit Night

Chapter 55 - Cloaked Intentions

After the funeral rites for Qing Yi concluded, Jing Xiang couldn't help but notice the solemn ritual that had become her mother's routine. Each day, without fail, Yu Yan would make her way to Qing Yi's now-empty cabin, a silent pilgrimage to the memory of her departed son. With quiet reverence, she would enter his room and settle onto his bed, fingers tracing the contours of his Koeh apothecary robe, a tangible connection to the son she had lost.

In those moments, time seemed to stand still for Yu Yan. She would sit in stillness, her eyes closed as if trying to summon the echoes of his laughter, the warmth of his presence. Tears, unbidden, would streak down her cheeks, glistening like dewdrops on a petal, only to be absorbed by the fabric beneath her touch.

Despite the weight of grief that threatened to engulf her, Yu Yan remained steadfast in her duty as tribe leader. When crises arose, she met them with the same unwavering resolve that had earned her respect and admiration from her people. Her decisions were made with a clarity born of experience, and she executed them with precision, a testament to her strength even in the face of personal tragedy.

To those outside, Yu Yan remained the epitome of composure, a figure of strength and stability. But within the confines of Qing Yi's room, she allowed herself the luxury of vulnerability, the freedom to mourn the loss of her son in solitude. In the quiet of those moments, she found solace in the memories they shared, finding a semblance of peace amidst the storm of sorrow that threatened to consume her.

Observing her mother's usually stoic demeanor falter in the wake of her twins' tragic death, Jing Xiang felt a mix of conflicting emotions. There was a part of her that longed to empathize, to bridge the chasm between them with understanding and compassion. But beneath that desire lay a cold truth she couldn't ignore: the strained and manipulative relationship Yu Yan had cultivated with her children, particularly Qing Yi.

Approaching her mother as she sat in silent vigil on Qing Yi's bed, Jing Xiang couldn't suppress a surge of frustration mingled with resentment. 

"It's almost surprising," she began, her voice tinged with a sharp edge, "to see even a creature as seemingly emotionless as you display even a hint of sentiment toward your own flesh and blood, now that they're gone."

Yu Yan's eyebrow twitched in annoyance at Jing Xiang's blunt and disrespectful tone, a familiar irritation bubbling beneath the surface. Despite her inner turmoil, she maintained her outward composure, exhaling a measured sigh.

"Any mother," she began, her voice steady despite the sting of Jing Xiang's words, "would undoubtedly mourn the loss of their children."

Jing Xiang's smirk only served to exacerbate the tension in the room. "Indeed," she retorted, her tone laced with biting sarcasm. "Any mother. But you, Mother dear, were never quite the epitome of maternal affection, were you? Not to Qing Yi, nor to me. So forgive me for finding your sudden display of grief a tad perplexing."

Yu Yan's patience waned, her gaze hardening as she fixed Jing Xiang with a stern glare. "If you have nothing constructive to contribute," she admonished, her voice tinged with frustration, "then perhaps it's best you leave. I have no desire to engage in a battle of words with a disrespectful child such as yourself."

Jing Xiang let out a slight scoff, her steps purposeful as she approached Yu Yan and halted in front of her, a defiant gleam in her eyes. "Let's cut to the chase," she declared, extending her palm to reveal a bottle of the Crimson Bloom incense. "Care to enlighten me on the significance of this?"

Yu Yan's initial glance at the bottle quickly turned into a furrowed brow, irritation flashing across her features at the accusatory tone in her daughter's voice. "What's this?" she retorted, her voice tinged with annoyance. "Do you require a refresher course on the appearance and properties of every herbal tranquil incense in our arsenal?"