Qian Renxue, now a striking young woman of eighteen, stood at the entrance of the herbal garden. Her long, flowing blonde hair cascaded down her back like liquid gold, framing a face of ethereal beauty.
Her eyes, a captivating shade of amethyst purple, held a certain coolness, an air of indifference that somehow only enhanced her regal bearing. Her very presence exuded a quiet dignity, a sense of inherent superiority.
Song Qing observed her, a flicker of recognition mixed with a hint of surprise. He knew of her immense talent; she was, after all, the only other individual he knew with the legendary Innate Full Soul Power of 20.
His enhanced spiritual and mental energies allowed him to faintly perceive her current strength. He estimated her soul power to be at least level 66, a Soul Emperor.
This was an astonishing feat for someone her age, especially considering she hadn't benefited from the consumption of immortal herbs like he had.
Moreover, Qian Renxue held a unique position within the Spirit Hall.
As the daughter of the previous Supreme Pontiff, Qian Xunji, and the granddaughter of the legendary level 99 Extreme Douluo, Qian Daoliu, her status was arguably even higher than his own.
Yet, Song Qing felt no intimidation. They weren't enemies, not really. Just… distant figures in the same organization.
After a moment of silence, Qian Renxue finally spoke, her voice surprisingly soft, though carrying a hint of an underlying steel. "Song Qing," she began, her gaze fixed on him, her purple eyes scrutinizing him intently. "Tell me… just how did you manage to become so important to Her Holiness the Pope? What method did you use? How did you… melt her ice-cold heart?"
Song Qing blinked, genuinely taken aback by her directness. He was, to put it mildly, confused. His fragmented memories from his past life offered little insight into Qian Renxue's relationship with Bibi Dong, or indeed, much about Qian Renxue herself. He knew she was important, a figure of immense talent, but the specifics of their connections were hazy.
"Your Highness," Song Qing replied carefully, trying to gauge her tone and the underlying meaning behind her questions. "I… I'm not sure what you mean." He decided to try and figure out their connection. "Her Holiness has always been… kind to me. She took me in when I was young and has always looked after me."
It was at this moment that A'Rou's mental voice echoed in his mind, clear and urgent. 'Young man,' she projected, a wealth of information flooding his thoughts. 'This… this Qian Renxue… she is Bibi Dong's child! When I was absorbed as her seventh soul ring, I glimpsed fragments of her memories… a terrible past. This girl… she is the result of Qian Xunji forcing himself upon Bibi Dong, demanding she bear him a child with exceptional talent.'
Song Qing's eyes widened in shock as the information flooded his mind. A surge of anger, a visceral hatred towards the long-dead Qian Xunji, welled up within him. The sheer injustice of it, the violation… it was sickening. But he quickly quelled his anger. Qian Xunji was gone. Hatred wouldn't change the past.
He looked at Qian Renxue, really looked at her for the first time, and a wave of understanding washed over him. It wasn't that Bibi Dong was heartless. It was that every time she looked at her daughter, she must be reminded of the man who had forced himself upon her, the man who had fathered this child. The pain must be unbearable.
Despite his disgust for Qian Xunji, Song Qing felt a surge of sympathy for Qian Renxue. She was completely innocent in all of this, a victim of her father's vile actions. He knew then that he wanted to help her, to somehow bridge the chasm that existed between her and her mother.
He couldn't reveal the truth to Qian Renxue, not yet. The revelation would be too devastating, too complex to handle so abruptly. He remained silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts, trying to formulate a plan.
'I need to get them closer,' he thought. 'Qian Renxue deserves to know her mother's love, and Bibi Dong deserves to heal from the wounds of the past.'
He finally spoke, his tone thoughtful. "Your Highness, Her Holiness… she carries a great burden. She has many responsibilities as the Pope of the Spirit Hall." He paused, then looked directly at Qian Renxue. "If you truly wish to become closer to her, perhaps… perhaps you should visit me here more often."
Qian Renxue's purple eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of suspicion in her gaze. "Visit you? Why would that help me get closer to Her Holiness?"
Song Qing offered a small, enigmatic smile. "Sometimes, the most unexpected paths lead to the greatest opportunities. Trust me, Your Highness. If you visit me regularly, I believe a good opportunity might arise." He knew he was being vague, but he couldn't reveal his true intentions just yet. He needed time to formulate a proper plan, and he needed Qian Renxue to be a willing participant.
Qian Renxue studied him for a long moment, her gaze piercing. There was something in his eyes, a sincerity and a hint of knowing, that intrigued her. Despite her initial resentment towards him, she couldn't shake the feeling that he might actually be telling the truth. Her desire to connect with Bibi Dong, a desire she had long suppressed, flickered to the surface.
"Very well, Song Qing," she said finally, a hint of curiosity in her voice. "I will visit you… tomorrow."
~~
True to her word, the very next day, Qian Renxue arrived at Song Qing's herbal garden. She wasn't as imperious as she usually was, a hint of uncertainty in her purple eyes as she approached him.
"Song Qing," she said, her voice softer than before. "I… I came as you suggested."
"Your Highness, welcome," Song Qing replied with a warm smile, putting down the watering can he was holding. "I'm glad you did." He paused for a moment, then added, "Perhaps… perhaps you could join me while I tend to the herbs? It's quite peaceful here."
Qian Renxue hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly. She followed him as he moved among the rows of vibrant plants, her gaze taking in the variety of colors and scents.
And so began a routine. Every day, Qian Renxue would visit Song Qing in his herbal garden. And every day, Song Qing would subtly orchestrate a meeting, however brief, between her and Bibi Dong. He would often mention to his teacher that Qian Renxue had come to visit him, and with his usual persuasive charm, he would suggest that Bibi Dong might want to spend a few moments with her daughter.
"Teacher," Song Qing would say, his voice gentle, "Her Highness is here. Perhaps you could join us for a while? We were just talking about some interesting herbs."
Bibi Dong would usually agree, though her reactions upon seeing Qian Renxue were always… strained. Her face would become impassive, her eyes cold and distant.
"Qian Renxue," she would say, her tone formal, addressing her daughter by her full name, a stark contrast to the warm affection she always showed towards Song Qing. "You are here."
"Yes, Your Holiness," Qian Renxue would reply, her own voice polite but tinged with a sadness that Song Qing couldn't help but notice.
Despite the palpable awkwardness, Song Qing persisted. He would suggest activities they could do together, simple things like playing a game of chess or even just taking a walk in the Spirit Hall gardens. He would often directly ask Bibi Dong to participate.
"Teacher, why don't you join us for a game of chess? Your Highness is quite skilled, I hear."
Bibi Dong, always willing to indulge Song Qing's requests, would agree, though her interactions with Qian Renxue during these activities remained stiff and formal. There were no shared smiles, no affectionate touches, just a cold politeness.
Song Qing even tried to encourage physical contact, knowing that a simple hug could sometimes break down walls. "Teacher," he'd say innocently, "Her Highness looked a little down today. Perhaps a comforting hug would help?"
Bibi Dong would hesitate, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, but under Song Qing's earnest gaze, she would eventually comply, offering a brief, almost perfunctory hug to Qian Renxue before quickly retreating.
Despite Song Qing's best efforts, the distance between mother and daughter seemed unbridgeable. Bibi Dong's unnatural reaction to Qian Renxue was evident to everyone, especially to Qian Renxue herself. Yet, surprisingly, Qian Renxue didn't stop visiting the herbal garden.
While she wasn't getting any closer to her birth mother, she found herself increasingly drawn to Song Qing. She was entranced by his gentle charm, deeply grateful for his efforts to help her, and undeniably captivated by his handsome appearance and the insightful way his mind worked. She found herself looking forward to their daily conversations, enjoying the peace and tranquility of the garden in his company.
One afternoon, as they were sitting side-by-side on a stone bench, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming lavender, Song Qing turned to Qian Renxue, his expression serious.
"Your Highness," he began softly, his gaze direct, "I think… I think I've figured something out."
Qian Renxue looked at him, her purple eyes filled with curiosity. "What is it, Song Qing?"
Song Qing took a deep breath. "I believe… I believe Her Holiness the Pope is your mother."
Qian Renxue's reaction was immediate and profound. Her eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at him, her face pale. "How… how did you know?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. She had never revealed this secret to him, never even hinted at it. She couldn't fathom how he could have possibly guessed.
Song Qing nodded gently. "There were… clues. The way she looks at you sometimes, the underlying sadness in her eyes… and other things." He hesitated for a moment, then continued, his voice filled with empathy. "Something terrible must have happened in the past for her to treat you so coldly like this. But Your Highness… I truly believe she is wrong to do so."
Upon hearing those words, Qian Renxue was beyond touched. Tears welled up in her purple eyes, blurring her vision. She had endured years of her mother's coldness, the formal greetings, the complete lack of affection.
She had always yearned for a mother's love, but it had been consistently denied to her.
And now, here was Song Qing, the Pope's beloved disciple, the one person she might have expected to side with Bibi Dong, actually supporting her, acknowledging her pain, and even saying that his own teacher was wrong.
It was an act of kindness and understanding she had never dared to hope for.
Without a word, her emotions overwhelming her, Qian Renxue turned to Song Qing and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.
Her slender body trembled slightly against his, and he could feel the warmth of her tears seeping through his robes.
Song Qing gently returned the embrace, holding her close, offering silent comfort.