Where Poison Blooms
CHAPTER 1. : Chosen Without Choice
pairing: gong yuanzhi x reader (female reader)
rating: 18+ (future explicit content)
genre: romance, smut
warnings: parental manipulation, threats, violence, poison, dark themes, power imbalance, forced marriage ish, NSFW (later chapters)
summary: In a world where poison is both art and weapon, a powerful family gathers brides for a man known as the Poison Master. Y/N never wanted to be part of it, but refusal was never an option. Surrounded by rivals and hidden dangers, she has only one goal: Surviving long enough to leave… But nothing within the Gong residence is ever that simple.
author's note: Hi everyone. First, I want to apologize for being gone for so long. It’s been a difficult time, but we finally found out what was going on with my mom, and she has now started chemotherapy. Things are slowly getting better, and I’m really grateful for that. During this time, I found a bit of comfort in watching dramas to take my mind off everything. I ended up rewatching My Journey to You, which is still my favorite cdrama to this day. I’ve been following Tian Jiarui’s work for a while now, and I’ve always really loved him as an actor. More recently, I watched Veil of Shadows, which I absolutely loved. That’s what inspired this story. His character in My Journey to You stayed with me the most. There’s something so complex and compelling about him, and I couldn’t help but feel like he deserved more… something softer, something happier. So I wanted to create a story where he could have that. Thank you for being here and for your patience 🤍
word count: 6k
language: “Ge” (or GeGe) means older brother, and “Jie” (or “Jiejie”) means older sister in Chinese.
follow #bluebirdyeonsieun for updates on the story
CHAPTERS: CHAPTER 1. CHAPTER 2. CHAPTER 3. CHAPTER 4. CHAPTER 5.
༻ Before reading the first chapter, I highly recommend checking out the World & Character Guide. If you haven’t seen My Journey to You, it will help you understand the story and its characters without needing to watch the drama. ༺
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It is a dangerous thing, to be drawn to something you should fear.
She would learn that soon enough.
˖᯽ ݁˖ ˖᯽ ݁˖ ˖᯽ ݁˖ ˖᯽ ݁˖ ˖᯽ ݁˖
The morning had begun like any other.
Soft light filtered through the paper windows, stretching across the floor in thin lines. The household stirred slowly, servants moving through familiar routines, the quiet clink of porcelain and hushed footsteps blending into something almost comforting.
Y/N sat in her room by the window, her fingers tracing idle patterns along the edge of the page, her gaze lingering more on the light than the words before her. Her thoughts drifted, as they often did, to the stories she read.
She had always envied the people within them.Not for their strength, or the worlds they lived in, filled with magic and impossible things, but for something far simpler.
They had somewhere to go.
A purpose that felt like their own, even when it wasn’t. Even when it was forced upon them, they still moved forward, chasing something that felt real, meaningful and alive. Along the way, they found people. Friends.
That, more than anything, was what she envied most.
She turned the page slowly, though she had already read the same line twice without truly seeing it. The main character stood at the edge of another journey, surrounded by people who trusted him, who laughed with him, who chose to stay.
She tried to imagine what that felt like.
To know someone, not through obligation or careful politeness, but through honesty. To ask how their day had been and expect a real answer. To share something small, something meaningless, and have it matter simply because it was shared.
To recommend a favorite book…
Her fingers stilled against the page.
This one… The very one resting in her hands. It was her favourite.
A faint smile touched her lips before fading just as quickly, replaced by something quieter, more cautious.
Her father wouldn’t approve.
He did not believe in reading for enjoyment, only for purpose. Education, discipline, power…Those were the only things worth time and attention. Stories like this were distractions, useless at best, dangerous at worst.
And yet, she kept it.
Hidden. Protected.
Her small rebellion.
A soft knock broke the silence.
Y/N stilled, her reaction immediate as she closed the book and slipped it out of sight beneath the folded fabric at her side, just as the door slid open.
“Jiejie?”
Her little brother, Haoyu, stepped in without waiting, already smiling, his presence filling the room in a way that softened something in her chest almost instantly.
She looked up at him, and for a moment, everything else faded.
“Were you reading again?” he asked, eyes already drifting around the room as if he might catch her in the act, though there was no real accusation behind it, only curiosity.
“Maybe,” she replied, her tone calm, a hint of amusement slipping through.
He grinned, unfazed. “You’re going to get in trouble one day.”
“I’m always in trouble.” she said lightly.
That earned a short laugh from him, light and unguarded, and she found herself noticing the small gap where his tooth had fallen out, a detail that only made him look more endearing. He was only six, growing far too quickly already. If only their mother could have seen him now…
Their mother had died only hours after bringing him into the world. After Y/N was born, her father had been determined to have a male heir, and her mother had endured loss after loss, each one quietly erased. When she finally carried Haoyu to term, she had been careful, so careful, until the very end… until her body gave out, unable to survive what had been demanded of it.
Her father carried on without her, his goal achieved. He had mourned, briefly and without disruption, before returning to what had always mattered most. His work never paused for long.
With a successor secured, his focus only sharpened. While Y/N remained in the household, helping the servants care for her infant brother, her father’s attention turned fully back to the battlefield.
He had always been capable, but it was when his strategy during the war of the three kingdoms succeeded, trapping enemy troops along the river and cutting off their escape, that everything changed. The victory shifted the course of the war, and with it, his position rose. From then on, his name carried weight, his authority expanding, his ambitions growing far beyond what they had once been.
To anyone outside, he was a man worthy of admiration. A general whose decisions had saved countless lives, whose strategies had shaped the outcome of war itself. People spoke of him as a man of honor and compassion, someone who cared deeply for his people, who carried his responsibilities with quiet devotion. They said he had a good heart, that his intentions were always just. His loyalty was unquestioned, his achievements spoken of with respect, sometimes even reverence.
He was not undeserving of it…
They admired him not only for his victories, but for the life he seemed to lead beyond them. A widower who had endured loss and still stood unshaken. A father who managed his household with discipline and grace, raising children who were well-behaved, composed, a reflection of his strength. To many, he was proof that one could endure anything and still rise above it.
He had done much for the people, and Y/N respected that. Without him, they would not be where they were now. But the man praised beyond these walls was not the one she knew at home.
At home, there were no victories. No praise. No room for error. He was strict, as one might expect from a man of his standing, but there was nothing measured about it. Discipline was not unfamiliar to her. She understood what was expected, how one should behave as the daughter of a man like him.
Composure, precision, restraint… these were things she had learned early, things that had long since become second nature. Not out of pride, but necessity. Because with him, there was no warning. No way to predict when displeasure would turn into something sharper. A word said wrong, a step taken out of line… and the consequences followed. She was not unfamiliar with violence…
So she did everything as she should.
She spoke carefully. She carried herself properly. She remembered every poem, every lesson, every detail placed before her… And still, there was always something…always a correction, always a remark, something that could be improved, refined, done better.
The same for her brother.
Her gaze flickered toward him again, quieter now. Haoyu still smiled easily, still spoke without thinking too much, carrying a lightness that had not yet been taken from him, the kind that belonged only to someone his age… and yet she could already see it beginning to settle in… How he went still when voices lifted, in the subtle tension that crossed his shoulders when a hand moved too suddenly…
His eyes would lift toward their father at times, lingering just a moment too long, searching without fully understanding, waiting for approval that would never be given, and she knew, with a certainty that sat heavy in her chest, that he would keep waiting…
Because she had once done the same.
She feared that one day, he would begin to feel it too, that quiet, persistent sense that no matter how carefully he tried, no matter how perfectly he followed every expectation, it would never be enough. That he would start to measure himself against a standard he could never reach, the way she had learned to.
She pushed the thought aside before it could settle too deeply, softening her expression as she looked at her brother again.
“So,” she asked gently, a small smile touching her lips, “what did you come in for? Do you need me for something?”
He hesitated for the briefest moment, and the lightness in his expression shifted, not disappearing, but quieting.
“Father sent me to get you,” Haoyu said, more careful now. “He’s in his office.”
She went still. The smile on her lips remained, but it no longer reached her eyes.
“I see,” she said softly, steady enough.
Then, gentler, as if nothing had changed, “Why don’t you go practice your writing in your room? I’ll come find you later.”
He nodded, slow and obedient.
As she rose, she reached out and patted his head lightly, her touch brief but careful, something warm in the gesture. “Come on.”
They stepped out of the room together.
At the threshold, their paths split without needing to be spoken. He turned toward his room, though not without glancing back at her once. She did not.
Her steps carried her forward, steady and composed, her gaze fixed ahead as she made her way toward their father’s office.By the time she reached the door, nothing remained on her face but composure.
She stopped just short of it. “Father?” she called softly.
Silence followed.
A second passed.
Then another.
“…Enter.” The voice came from within, measured and firm.
She slid the door open and stepped inside, lowering her gaze as she crossed the threshold.
The room was arranged with deliberate order. It was lined with shelves filled with texts on war, governance, and trade, their spines worn from use rather than display. Along one wall, his medals were set with quiet precision, each one marking a victory that had shaped his name into what it was now.
Her father sat behind his desk, writing on a piece of parchment.
He was a middle-aged man, his beard neatly kept, though there were signs of fatigue in the slight heaviness around his eyes, the kind that came from long nights and longer responsibilities. It did little to soften him. If anything, it made him seem more unyielding, a presence that filled the room without needing to raise his voice.
She stopped at the proper distance and bowed her head.
“You sent for me.”
The faint scratch of his brush continued for a moment longer, as if her words had not reached him. Then, without haste, he set it down.
His gaze lifted to her.
He said nothing at first, only looked, the silence itself carrying enough weight to demand stillness. Then he reached for something on the desk and lifted it.
A letter.
Black.
The seal had already been broken.
He turned it slightly, just enough for her to see. “Do you know what this is?”
Of course she did. The emblem pressed into the wax was unmistakable.
The Gong clan.
A name that carried its own kind of authority, respected not only for their martial strength, but for what lay beyond it. Their knowledge extended into weapons and armor, into poisons and medicine, into things most did not speak of openly, but relied on nonetheless.
Her father had dealt with them for years.
They supplied him with weapons and armor, provided medicines and remedies for his troops, and crafted poisons suited for war and strategy alike. In return, he provided men, protection, and access to routes and resources only someone in his position could secure.
An exchange built on mutual advantage.
“Yes, Father. The Gong family.” A brief pause settled between them before she lifted her eyes, just enough to look at him properly. “Will you be leaving soon?” she asked carefully.
A letter from the Gong clan rarely arrived without reason. It usually meant movement. Preparations. Another campaign, perhaps. Another conflict taking shape. If they had written, it was likely to coordinate, to align their efforts as they had done many times before.
Another time he would be gone. The thought should not have brought relief…. And yet, it did.
“No,” he said, the word firm and unhurried. “There is no war beginning, if that is what you are thinking.” His fingers unfolded the letter, smoothing it out with quiet precision. Something shifted in his expression then, subtle, almost imperceptible. Not quite a smile, but close enough to unsettle.
“It is… a more favorable matter.”
Y/N did not move, but the confusion was clear on her face, her brows drawing together ever so slightly as she searched for meaning in his words.
“If I had known…” he began, his voice low, almost thoughtful, a quiet, humorless chuckle slipping through, “that having a girl could prove useful one day...”
Y/N felt her heartbeat falter, then quicken, a cold unease creeping through her chest as her fingers curled slightly at her sides, the stillness she held growing harder to maintain.
“Congratulations, my daughter,” he said, the formality of it sitting wrong, almost mocking. “You have been selected to participate in the bride selection of the Gong family.”
˖᯽ ݁˖ ˖᯽ ݁˖ ˖᯽ ݁˖ ˖᯽ ݁˖ ˖᯽ ݁˖
Yuanzhi had always enjoyed the scent of incense, the slow, deliberate way it burned, the quiet promise that what lingered in the air could just as easily comfort as it could choke.
In the main hall, the smoke rose in thin, steady lines, undisturbed in the stillness. The space was quiet, ordered, every detail in place beneath the elders’ watch.
He stood beside his brother, Gong Shangjue, hands folded neatly at his back, his posture precise and controlled. On the other side, Gong Ziyu remained still, composed as ever.
The three of them stood in line, waiting.
He did not know why they had been summoned so early. He preferred to spend his mornings outside, gathering plants while the dew still clung to their leaves, when their properties were at their most potent… and, if mishandled, at their most unforgiving.
At last, Elder Qin cleared his throat.
The sound alone drew the room into sharper attention. Among the three elders, he was one of the most respected, not for power alone, but for the weight of his judgment. The elders of the Gong clan were not merely figures of authority, but keepers of its direction, men who had seen enough to guide and endured enough to be listened to. Their role was to advise Gong Ziyu, the Sword Wielder and leader of the entire Gong family, shaping decisions so they would benefit the clan as a whole.
“We thank you for your presence this morning,” Elder Qin began, his voice low and steady, carrying easily through the hall. “There are matters that must be addressed.”
He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over them.
“First, it is only right to acknowledge what has already been achieved. It has been five years since the previous bride selection, and the Gong bloodline continues to grow. The recent birth of an heir is a fortunate development.”
Shangjue’s household had welcomed a child not long after the last selection, efficient, expected. His wife, Qian, had given birth to a daughter. His niece was almost five and already proving to be far more troublesome than she should be, quick to wander, quicker to notice, with a curiosity that rarely led to anything quiet.
And now Ziyu as well.
Just last week, he had a son, securing the Gong line and the next Sword Wielder of the family. The child had been born strong, his cries steady, a full head of jet-black hair already marking him unmistakably as Gong.
“However,” Elder Qin continued, “our clan still faces enemies, and our allies expect stability. The Gong bloodline must not only continue… it must be secured.” A brief pause followed. “The birth of an heir is a beginning, not a guarantee. One branch alone cannot sustain the weight of this clan, nor answer the expectations placed upon it.” His gaze shifted, measured. “The line must be strengthened, extended, and protected from all uncertainty. What has been achieved is commendable… but it is not yet sufficient.”
A brief silence followed, the weight of Elder Qin’s words settling across the hall.
Then his brother stepped forward, the movement controlled, deliberate. Shangjue bowed his head slightly, just enough to show respect. “I did not wish to draw attention away from the birth of a new heir,” he said, his voice calm and measured, “so we waited until it was certain but…Qian, is expecting again.”
A faint smile touched Yuanzhi’s lips, quieter but more genuine than one might expect from him. The news settled easily, without resistance.
He had not always thought well of Qian.
When she first arrived, he had watched her with quiet suspicion, certain there was more beneath the surface than she allowed others to see. A spy from Wufeng, most likely. He had been almost certain of it…
But she had proven him wrong.
Not through grand gestures or carefully chosen words, but in the small, steady ways that could not be faked. In the way she carried herself within the household, in the way she stood beside his brother without hesitation, in the quiet consistency of her actions over time.
Now, Qian was not only part of the Gong household, but an undeniable part of its strength.
Ziyu stepped forward without hesitation, his expression brightening openly, the happiness clear on his face. He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, smiling without restraint. “ This is wonderful news, Shangjue.” he said, his voice warm and sincere.
The elders nodded in approval. Among them, Elder Ren, the eldest of the three Elders, inclined his head slightly, his voice slower with age yet no less firm.
“It is indeed a fortunate development,” he said. “We will offer prayers for your wife’s well-being throughout her pregnancy.” Shangjue bowed his head in gratitude.
Yuanzhi let the silence stretch only a moment longer before he spoke, his tone respectful, though edged with quiet impatience.
“If that is the case,” he said, inclining his head slightly toward the elders, “then the matter seems… well in hand. My brother’s household grows, and the heir has been secured.” His gaze lifted just enough. “Is there anything further, or may we be dismissed?”
Elder Qin did not answer immediately, his gaze settling directly on Yuanzhi.
“We did not raise this matter for Shangjue or Ziyu alone,” he said at last, his tone even. “It concerns you as well.”
For a brief moment, Yuanzhi remained still, offering no response, though his attention sharpened. His gaze shifted, almost instinctively, toward Shangjue, searching without seeming to. He did not need an explanation. The look on his brother’s face was enough, calm, unsurprised… and faintly amused, the slightest curve at the corner of his lips as if Yuanzhi’s momentary stillness had not gone unnoticed.
Understanding settled in quietly.
Yuanzhi’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “What do you mean?”
It was not the elders who answered.
His brother turned to him, his tone steady, almost casual. “I think they mean that you’ve come of age,” he said. “And that it’s time you begin your own household.”
The words landed harder than they should have. A flicker of irritation rose, sharp and immediate, catching him off guard. He had not expected this, had not prepared for it, and the thought of being pushed toward something so final, so binding, unsettled him more than he would ever allow to show.
Across from him, Ziyu shifted slightly, his gaze dropping for a brief moment, as if avoiding Yuanzhi’s eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
Yuanzhi inclined his head toward the Elders, his tone respectful but edged with restraint. “I am refining the most potent poison I have created to date,” he said, voice calm and precise. “And developing its remedy. It demands absolute focus. A marriage would only interfere with that.”
Elder Ren waved a hand, unconcerned. “Nonsense. A husband can work and be married.”
Yuanzhi raised a brow, his voice cool. “Or work better without someone disrupting his work.”
Ziyu coughed lightly to hide a laugh. His brother Shangjue did not bother hiding his amused smirk.
“Enough. This is not up for discussion,” Elder Qin said calmly. “You knew this day would come. This is your responsibility to this family.”
Before Yuanzhi could respond, Elder Ren spoke, his tone firm and leaving little room for objection. “The letters have already been sent to some of the Gong clan’s most trusted allies. Suitable candidates have been selected. They will arrive within two weeks.”
Yuanzhi’s jaw tightened, the tension finally showing, if only slightly. “It seems my future has already been decided, then.”
“Yuanzhi.” Elder Meng spoke for the first time since the beginning of the meeting, his voice gentler than the others, carrying a quiet warmth that softened his words without lessening their weight. “I understand this is sudden for you, but there have been increasing attacks from Wufeng this past year. Our allies look to us for stability. The Gong bloodline must be secured at all costs.”
“You are not a child anymore,” Elder Ren added, Yuanzhi felt the corners of his mouth twitch in faint annoyance. They always used that line when they were about to push him into something he had not agreed to. “ A man must take responsibility and fulfill his duty.”
Shangjue spoke then, his voice steady, cutting cleanly through the tension. “My brother is not refusing his duty. He simply wants more time.”
“That is precisely what we do not have,” Elder Ren said, his voice steady. “Time.”
His gaze settled directly on Yuanzhi as he continued.
“May I remind you that you have already been granted more years than most. Others would have been bound to duty the moment they came of age. You were allowed otherwise… for a time.” A brief pause. “But now it’s time.”
Yuanzhi said nothing. He bit down on his tongue, forcing back the response that rose too quickly to be spoken. The words pressed in, unwelcome, but not untrue. He had been given more time. Time to work, to refine, to move without restraint or expectation beyond his craft. They could have bound him to duty years ago…
“The clan is rebuilding,” Elder Ren continued. “Shangjue’s household grows and the Sword Wielder has secured an heir.” At the mention of his newborn, Ziyu’s expression softened, a quiet, unmistakable pride settling across his face. Elder Ren’s attention remained fixed on Yuanzhi. “But that does not address what is lacking in your line.”
A low hum of agreement followed.
Elder Qin spoke next, calm and decisive. “Your work, your knowledge of poison… it cannot be left without a successor.”
Yuanzhi did not answer immediately. The words settled into place whether he welcomed them or not, leaving little room for argument. He had already tested every possible objection in his mind, and none of them held against what was expected of him.
Slowly, he drew in a breath.
Then stepped forward.
His hands came together before him, the gesture precise, practiced, as he bowed his head just enough to show respect.
“I understand,” he said at last, his voice even.
Acknowledgment.
Acceptance.
Not willingness.
But duty, all the same
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The carriage came to a slow stop.
Y/N felt it before she heard it, the shift in movement, the subtle pull as the horses stilled. Outside, there was no chatter, no welcome, no sound of arrival that one might expect from a place receiving guests.
Only silence.
Her fingers tightened slightly in her lap beneath the folds of red silk.
She had not seen the road that brought her here.
From the moment she stepped into the carriage, the veil had been lowered, thick enough to blur the world into nothing more than shapes and shadows. She had caught glimpses, fleeting and uncertain, the outline of trees, the rise of distant mountains, the passing of gates she could not name.
No one spoke to her and no one answered when she tried. Instructions had been given only once.
Do not remove the veil.
Do not ask questions.
Do not cause trouble.
Her father’s voice lingered far louder than any of them, sharp and inescapable.
You will behave as expected. For your brother’s sake…
Her breath caught, just for a moment. Even now, the words settled heavier than anything else.
Her little brother. Haoyu.
The last time she saw him, he had stood in the doorway of her room, too quiet for a child his age, watching as she prepared to leave. She had knelt in front of him, smoothing down his sleeves, memorizing the small details she feared she would forget.
A tear had slipped down his cheek.
She had wiped it away gently with her thumb.
“Listen to the nanny,” she had told him softly. “Eat your meals, even if you don’t feel like it.”
He had nodded.
Too quickly.
“Try not to anger Father,” she added, her voice quieter now, her hand lingering against his face. “Stay kind. Don’t let him take that from you.”
His eyes had filled again, but he stayed silent.
“I’ll come back,” she had whispered, even if she did not know if it was true. “I promise.” She had left before he could ask when.
The memory lingered longer than she wanted it to, clinging stubbornly where she could not quite reach it. Y/N shook her head slightly, as if she could push it away before it settled too deeply. It would do no good to hold onto it now, not when it only made her chest tighten and her thoughts stray where they shouldn’t.
She forced herself to focus elsewhere, grasping for something steadier, something distant from the weight of it all.
The stories she used to read came to mind, quiet evenings spent turning pages beneath dim light, following heroes who never hesitated, who stepped into uncertainty as if it were nothing. They always knew what to do. They always found a way through.
She wondered what they would do in her place.
The sharp sound of the carriage door sliding open pulled her back to the present.
Cool air slipped inside, brushing against her face, carrying with it a faint scent she could not quite place. Clean. Sharp. Almost bitter.
“Step down.”
Y/N released a quiet breath she had not realized she was holding and carefully lowered herself out of the carriage, her movements slow, measured beneath the weight of the veil.
She was not given time to look around.
A hand gestured forward.
“Move.”
She obeyed.
The world remained blurred through the red veil, but she caught glimpses of movement ahead, the faint glimmer of water, and the soft creak of wood shifting against it. A small boat waited at the edge.
From the corner of her eye, she could make out other girls dressed in red like her, each being guided in silence toward their own boats.
Y/N stepped in carefully, steadying herself as the boat shifted beneath her weight.
The journey across was quiet, the soft rhythm of water against wood the only thing breaking the stillness. Night had settled fully around them, the world dim and indistinct beneath her veil, save for the faint glow of lanterns placed along the path ahead. Their light flickered gently, guiding the way across the dark water.
She could not see far, only the outline of something ahead, growing clearer, larger, with each passing moment.
By the time the boat came to a stop, her fingers had curled slightly into the fabric of her dress, the tension settling into her without her noticing. When instructed, she stepped off carefully, her footing steady despite the unease that had begun to take hold.
And then she saw them.
The gates stood before her, tall and imposing, closed as if guarding something that did not wish to be entered.
For a moment, she simply stared.
Then the realization settled in.
Behind those doors stood the most dangerous martial arts family known across the land.
And she was terrified.
Hands guided them forward, quiet but firm, gathering the girls together, arranging them into a line before the gates. Red sleeves brushed against one another, soft fabric shifting as they were positioned side by side, indistinguishable beneath their veils.
Y/N drew in a slow breath.
Her father’s voice rose in her mind, sharp and controlled, as it always was. Usually unwelcome. Usually something she tried to push away.
But not now.
Now, it steadied her.
Do not let it show. No matter what you feel.
Control your breathing. Slow. Even.
Do not let your heart betray you.
Fear is a weakness when seen.
She straightened slightly, forcing her shoulders to relax, steadying the rhythm of her breath as best she could. The pounding in her chest did not disappear, but it softened, buried beneath the discipline he had forced into her since childhood.
The gates began to open slowly, deliberately, the heavy grind of metal echoing through the night as if the place itself resisted what entered it. Lantern light flickered along the path beyond, revealing only fragments of what lay ahead, never enough to feel certain.
At a silent signal from the guards, the line shifted. Hands gestured forward, firm but restrained, and the women began to move. Y/N stepped with them, her pace measured and as steady as she could.
No one spoke, but the silence was not calm. It carried something tighter, sharper. She could almost taste it, the nerves, the unease spreading quietly through the line. A slight hitch in someone’s breath. The faint tremble of fabric as sleeves brushed too quickly. Not all of them wanted to be here.
She wondered, for a moment, if they were afraid for the same reason she was, if they had heard the rumors about the man they had been brought here for.
Of course they had. How could they not?
Gong Yuanzhi. The Poison Master.
She knew of him through what reached her father, through the quiet exchanges of information that were never meant for her, yet never fully hidden either. The poisons he created were said to be especially ruthless, feared not only for their effect, but for the way they left no mercy behind. His knowledge went further than that, into medicine, into weaponry, into things most would not dare study so closely. There was something unsettling in that alone, a mind that did not stop where others would.
And then there were the rumors, darker ones, spoken with a certain hesitation. That he tested his creations on those unfortunate enough to fall into his hands. That he did not turn away from the pain they caused, but observed it closely, almost attentively, as if measuring it, learning from it. That there was a certain fascination in the way his poisons took hold, in how far they could go, how much they could do, what could be refined further. That he was… different, in ways even his own family did not fully restrain.
The thought sent a chill down Y/N’s spine.
She kept her gaze lowered, her steps even, her breathing carefully controlled as she and the other girls were led forward, past the gates and into a place she knew, with quiet certainty, would be anything but safe.
Above them, hidden from sight, two figures stood in the shadows overlooking the entrance, their presence masked by height and darkness as their attention remained fixed on the line of women below.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Yuanzhi’s attention lingered below, sharp and calculating as the line of veiled women in red passed through the gates. “It will be like last time,” he murmured quietly. “How many Wufeng spies do you think have made their way into this selection?”
Beside him, Shangjue stood unmoving, his focus steady, taking in the scene without haste, as if already measuring what could not yet be seen. He gave a slight shrug, not careless, but considered.
“I don’t know…one… maybe two.”
Yuanzhi exhaled softly, his voice lowering. “It’s a dangerous game. Inviting potential spies onto our grounds now of all times.” His gaze narrowed slightly, tension settling beneath the surface. “Ziyu’s heir was just born. Qian is expecting again. And we bring them here…”
Shangjue turned his head slightly, his gaze settling on Yuanzhi before he spoke, as if weighing his words rather than dismissing them outright. “There will always be a threat,” he said at last, his tone even, grounded in certainty rather than reassurance. “If not now, then later. If not here, then elsewhere. Waiting will not make it safer.”
He let the words settle for a moment before continuing, his voice quieter but no less firm.
“They will remain in the outer residence, separate from the main household. It keeps a distance where it matters.” Shangjue lifted a hand and rested it briefly on Yuanzhi’s shoulder. “I will ensure our family is protected,” he added. “And Ziyu’s child will be guarded just the same.”
Yuanzhi exhaled slowly, his shoulders tightening as he folded his arms across his chest. “I still don’t like it,” he said, the words quieter now. “How am I supposed to trust any of them, knowing one could be from Wufeng?”
His older brother watched him for a moment, taking in the restrained frustration he did not bother to hide. There was no mockery in his expression this time, only a measured understanding. “You’re not the first to face it,” he said evenly. “Ziyu and I both stood where you are now. We chose from the same uncertainty, and yet… it did not lead to ruin.”
Yuanzhi met his gaze and held it, silent but unyielding.
Shangjue continued, quieter now, but no less firm. “You don’t need to trust her completely,” he said. “And you don’t need to love her. What matters is that she can stand where she is placed, fulfill her role, and give the Gong family what it needs.”
A faint breeze stirred through the open space, brushing past them and lifting a few loose strands of Yuanzhi’s hair across his face. He did not move to push them away, the sensation barely registering against the weight of his thoughts.
He had spent the past two weeks trying to come to terms with it, turning the idea over in his mind until it should have felt familiar, manageable, no different from any other responsibility placed upon him. He had approached it the only way he knew how, by breaking it down, by preparing for every possible outcome, by convincing himself that it was simply another matter to be handled.
And yet, seeing it unfold before him now, it still felt unreal. Too abrupt. Too imposed.
The days following the council had not been spent resisting. He had returned to the elders, not to refuse, but to reshape what he could. It had taken time, patience, and a careful choice of words, but in the end, he had secured what mattered.
They would allow him full authority over the selection. He would design the tests himself and question the candidates as he saw fit, leaving nothing to chance or tradition alone.
Shangjue’s expression shifted then, just slightly, the tension easing at the edges as a hint of amusement surfaced. “It would also help,” he added, almost casually, “if you chose a pretty one. For the sake of the lineage.”
Yuanzhi clicked his tongue, the sound sharp against the quiet. “Ge,” he said, a trace of disbelief slipping through despite himself, “this is hardly the moment.”
The brief exchange did little to change the situation, but it softened it, if only by a fraction.
As the gates closed behind the last bride, the heavy sound echoing through the night, Yuanzhi’s gaze lingered a moment longer before lowering slightly, his thoughts already moving ahead.
If there were spies among them, he would find them.
And killed them.
˖᯽ ݁˖ ˖᯽ ݁˖ ˖᯽ ݁˖ ˖᯽ ݁˖ ˖᯽ ݁˖
NEXT CHAPTER—> 2 : The Gathering in White
