Chapter 16: Brothers on the Hunt

When Beigong Qiyi returned after bathing and changing, he stepped out to find three men waiting at the door. All were guards dressed in black robes, the foremost holding the reins of a pure white horse, its coat without a single blemish. It was the “White Dragon Steed” Beigong Qiyi had ridden as a child. As he emerged, the guards approached and bowed deeply: “The Master has commanded, today is the hunt.”

Beigong Qiyi glanced at the elaborate, gold-embroidered robes he wore and coughed lightly. “Wait a moment.” He turned back inside, and when he reappeared, he was clad in a simple pale yellow long robe. He addressed the waiting guards: “I’m ready.”

He gazed at the White Dragon Steed, unseen for years, and gently pressed the magnolia-shaped mark inside its left ear. The horse seemed to remember him, snorting softly and nudging his chest. Beigong Qiyi smiled, noticing the saddle carried a bow of dark silver and a quiver of arrows—both clearly of fine make.

He vaulted onto the horse, grasped the reins, and, sitting tall, directed the guards: “Let’s go.” He accepted a pair of fitting wrist guards and a thumb ring from one of the men, strapped them on, and, with a squeeze to the horse’s flanks, rode away from “The Residence of Leisure,” surrounded by his escorts.

Beigong Qiyi rode alongside them for a long while, until they reached a plain outside the manor. There, a troop of over thirty riders waited, all in black robes mounted on gleaming steeds. As they approached, the troop merged with them, moving with disciplined unity—true elite cavalry. The three guards who had accompanied Beigong Qiyi swiftly mounted their own horses and joined the ranks.

Beigong Qiyi tightened his grip on the reins, preparing to follow, when a voice called from behind: “I have never hunted with you before; shall we compete today?”

Turning, Beigong Qiyi saw a tall figure seated with ease atop the horse “Shadowless.” Sword-like brows arched, dark green phoenix eyes glinting with a half-smile. His robe was dark green, trimmed at the collar with dense black sable. Full, red lips curved with a hint of challenge, his whole demeanor cold and wickedly handsome. Beigong Qiyi rode up beside him, laughing softly: “Brother, don’t bully me.”

Beigong Juechen raised an eyebrow and said, “When I was sixteen, I could kill two lions with my bare hands.” Beigong Qiyi tilted his head, smiling innocently: “Though I’m sixteen now, brother, you’re already twenty-four. How could I compete?”

Beigong Juechen flicked his whip against Beigong Qiyi’s back, not too hard, and snorted, “Twisting words.” Beigong Qiyi grimaced slightly: “Clearly, it’s brother bullying the younger, yet now you blame me.” With that, he lashed his horse’s rump, and dashed off ahead, while Beigong Juechen spat lightly and led the others in pursuit.

Their party sped toward the rear mountain, riding fine horses at a swift pace. In less than half an hour, they entered the woods, riding another quarter-hour deeper. Before their eyes unfolded a landscape of mountains and ravines, vast and unending. Ancient trees towered, branches thick and lush, stretching skyward—a grand and majestic scene. Beigong Qiyi, never having visited before, was dazzled by the natural beauty and exclaimed, “What a view!”

Beigong Juechen’s brows quirked slightly, a faint smile flickering in his eyes. “You say I bully the young by competing, so let’s do this: there’s a snow leopard deep in these woods. Let’s see who hunts it first.”

Beigong Qiyi blinked, tilting his head, “Alright.”

Beigong Juechen nodded, then addressed the men behind him in a steely voice: “Hunt as you will. The one with the most prey will be rewarded, the least will be punished.” The guards responded in unison, voices booming and crisp, startling birds from the trees. Beigong Juechen drew an arrow, its tail engraved with the character “Li,” his jade thumb ring gleaming. In an instant, a bird dropped from the sky. He retrieved his bow, spoke quietly: “Go.” The guards dispersed, fanning out into the forest.

Beigong Qiyi smiled, gesturing with his whip at the dead bird: “Brother, fine marksmanship.” The bird had been shot cleanly through the eye. Beigong Juechen shrugged, his wide sleeves rustling in the wind with a casual air: “Just an appetizer.” The real feast was that snow leopard.

Beigong Juechen and Beigong Qiyi rode leisurely through the woods, ignoring rabbits and deer that occasionally crossed their path, heading straight for the depths.

The forest thickened, twisted and wild. Beigong Qiyi focused, scanning his surroundings, but saw only dense foliage and tangled undergrowth. Unhurried, he closed his eyes and listened. A faint rustling reached his ears. Smiling, he picked up his bow and, without opening his eyes, aimed carefully. The bow drew full, like a bright moon, and in a flash, silver light streaked through the woods like a falling star.

Still with eyes closed, Beigong Qiyi heard the subtle sound of arrow striking flesh before he opened them. He pressed his mount forward, heading toward the sound.

Concealed in the thick grass lay a snow leopard, its fur pure white. Now it lay motionless, arrow in its body. Beigong Qiyi smiled, dismounted, and approached. Though only one arrow pierced the leopard, there was a round wound at its neck, and beside it lay another arrow. Clearly, this second arrow was the fatal one. Beigong Qiyi’s face changed; he picked up the arrow and saw the character “Li” engraved on its tail—larger than those used by the others. It was Beigong Juechen’s arrow.

As expected, a low voice came from behind: “It seems I’ve won?” Beigong Qiyi set down the arrow, turned with a smile: “Not quite.” Beigong Juechen raised an eyebrow. Beigong Qiyi pointed to the blood on the leopard: “Brother may have killed it, but I hit it first. You said we’d see who struck it first—so it seems I’ve won.”

Beigong Juechen glanced at the leopard; indeed, the blood at its belly was deeper. He raised his whip, conceding, “Alright, you win.” Beigong Qiyi mounted, turned his horse to face him, and laughed: “Since I’ve won, shouldn’t there be a reward?”

Beigong Juechen’s brows rose sharply. “What reward do you want?” Beigong Qiyi trotted ahead, and after a while, looked back with a smile: “Including my birthday gift, brother owes me two now. I haven’t decided what I want yet; perhaps you can owe me until I do. Is that alright?” Beigong Juechen nodded indifferently: “As you wish.”

Beigong Qiyi turned, his smile growing more mischievous. Hands tight on the reins, he mused silently—when the time comes, just hope brother doesn’t refuse...

The two rode in single file through the woods, silent, the only sound the wind rustling the leaves.

Suddenly, the jingle of bells echoed through the trees. Beigong Qiyi stopped his horse to look. Not far away stood a girl of five or six years, exquisitely lovely, her hair in twin buns, skin fair and rosy, a string of pearls at her neck, a bracelet with bells on her wrist—a child carved from jade. She stared at him with wide, clear eyes.

Beigong Qiyi was about to approach, but Beigong Juechen had already dismounted and came to his side. Beigong Qiyi followed, stepping down. The girl showed no fear, instead smiling sweetly at them. Just then, a young man rushed out, shielding her behind him, and bowed to Beigong Juechen: “Helian Wei greets the Master.” His gaze fell on Beigong Qiyi, and he paused, suppressing complicated emotions. “Greetings, Young Master.”

Beigong Qiyi found the youth familiar, but couldn’t recall where from. Beigong Juechen acknowledged him, gesturing to the girl: “Your sister?” Helian Wei nodded. Beigong Juechen gave him a cool glance: “Bring her forward.”

Helian Wei, hearing this, led his sister to Beigong Juechen.

As Helian Wei drew near, Beigong Qiyi remembered: He had once gotten tipsy at the “Riverside Pavilion” and, upon exiting, met someone who resembled Beigong Juechen. On impulse, he forced the man into a night of passion. The next day, he left the injured man with a bundle of silver notes, never suspecting the man was from the Helian family. Now, feeling the youth’s furtive glance, Beigong Qiyi felt a headache brewing.

The little girl looked at Beigong Juechen and wriggled free from her brother’s grasp, flinging herself at his legs, calling out, “Pretty uncle, pretty uncle…” Then she turned to Beigong Qiyi and chirped, “Pretty brother.” Her voice was sweet and clear, with a childish lilt that was instantly endearing. Helian Wei, startled, began to explain, but Beigong Juechen simply scooped the child into his arms.

He pinched her plump cheek, laughing quietly: “Aside from a certain brat, no one’s dared call me pretty.” Beigong Qiyi knew he referred to him and smiled softly, saying nothing. The little girl, serious, insisted: “Mama taught Qinghan to tell the truth.” Helian Wei hurriedly scolded, “Qinghan!” Beigong Juechen waved him off: “No harm. How old is she?”

Helian Qinghan answered brightly before her brother could: “Qinghan is six!” Beigong Juechen squeezed her arm, smiling, “Fine bones—she’s exceptional.” He tapped her nose, “Would you like to learn martial arts with me?” Helian Qinghan, still young and a girl, had yet to be trained by her family. She didn’t understand, but her brother quickly declined: “We wouldn’t dare trouble the Master.”

But Helian Qinghan, fond of the handsome uncle, disregarded her brother’s protests and agreed, “Yes!” Beigong Juechen set her down and said, “Then every fortnight, bring her to me.” Helian Wei had no choice but to agree, though the prospect of seeing Beigong Qiyi often left him both conflicted and secretly pleased.

Beigong Qiyi paid no mind to his tangled emotions, mounting his horse and following Beigong Juechen away.