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Wen Zhuliu prized his honor above all else.

When Wen Zhuliu had had nothing else, honor was the only thing that remained to him. After Wen Ruohan had taken Wen Zhuliu in, given him his name and his purpose, Wen Zhuliu’s honor demanded that he pledge his fealty, unquestioningly and completely, to repay Wen Ruohan for his gift rendered. And Wen Zhuliu had never wavered in that fealty, no matter what was asked of him, however perilous or distasteful the task. That was the weight of Wen Zhuliu’s honor.

There were, however, odd occasions when Wen Zhuliu anticipated particularly wearisome assignments, and so he didn’t set forth with his utmost enthusiasm. Sometimes he gave himself a moment’s respite to brace himself and harden his composure.

This time was one of those.

He entered the new Wen Supervisory Office upon the following scene: Wen Chao lounged brazenly upon the throne with Wang Lingjiao half falling out of his lap and was sloshing about a jar of wine and laughing uproariously. Orders issued when Wen Chao was laughing drunkenly were, as a rule, far and away the worst. The corpses of Jiang Fengmian and Lady Yu hung along over the ceiling beams to one side, their eyes vacant and unseeing, blood soaked through their robes. From the overhead beams on the other side in qi-suppressing chains hung the still-living body of Jiang Cheng. Wen Zhuliu could tell from the tear-tracks on Jiang Cheng’s face that he had been crying earlier, but now he was attempting to keep a hardened expression on his face while glaring daggers at Wen Chao.

Rarely did Wen Zhuliu wish an enemy luck, but the Jiang heir was going to need it. He was cursed thrice over: First, Jiang Cheng had been part of the group who had made fools of Wen Chao once already by escaping. Second, Jiang Cheng was a younger brother overshadowed by the talents of his older brother, so all the self-loathing Wen Chao felt in that regard would be dealt out upon this scapegoat. And, finally, Jiang Cheng also had the affront to strive for self-betterment and make the effort to improve his channeling, unlike Wen Chao who’d stopped trying rather than come in second place. Jiang Cheng’s skills over Wen Chao could only be the final nail in his coffin.

In any case, it was clear what Wen Zhuliu was meant to do. Best to get it over with, remove this threat to the Wen Clan, and release himself from this particular spectacle.

Wen Zhao laughed even harder when Wen Zhuliu approached Jiang Cheng. “No, no, no, not so fast!” he chided. “Tell him what you’re going to do first!”

Wen Zhuliu paused and took a calming breath. “It is my duty to eliminate all enemies of the Wen Clan by—”

“Seriously, is that it?” Wen Chao snapped at Wen Zhuliu. “Do it right!”

Wen Zhuliu took a second breath and suggested, “Perhaps you would explain better than I can?” Pandering to Wen Zhao’s ego was one of the few known ways to manage his tantrums, after all.

Wen Zhao rose from his conquered seat and set Wang Lingjiao on the seat beside it. Lady Yu’s former place. Jiang Cheng’s face twisted with hatred at the sight, and that seemed to cheer Wen Zhao even further.

“This little heir here,” Wen Chao announced as he strutted his way up to Jiang Cheng, “doesn’t know what a real lady looks like. After all, with a harpy like that for a mother...” Wen Chao looked over at Lady Yu’s hanging corpse and scoffed.

Jiang Cheng rattled his chains in a sudden fury, trying to dive at Wen Chao’s throat.

“Oh, did I hurt mamma’s boy’s feelings?” Wen Chao laughed. “Tell me, since you’re such a good little suckling, do you want to know how your mother died?” Wen Chao gave Wen Zhuliu a secretive smile. “He knows. He can tell you. Go on, tell him what you did to Lady Yu before she died.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes turned on Wen Zhuliu, and he lunged as far as the chains would allow. They snapped him back, of course, but Jiang Cheng spat in Wen Zhuliu’s direction and swore, “I’ll kill you! If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll—”

“Oops.” Wen Chao snickered. “Did you think I meant that? What a filthy mind you have! No, trust me, this is much worse. Wen Zhuliu, give him a taste.”

Wen Zhuliu marshalled his forces and held out one hand so that it splayed over Jiang Cheng’s solar plexus. He channeled into it, down the paths of Jiang Cheng’s qi until he felt the pulsing light of Jiang Cheng’s golden core...

“Not so fast!” Wen Chao ordered. “Not all at once. Give him a taste first. Let him anticipate what’s coming.”

Wen Zhuliu gritted his teeth. Jiang Cheng was an enemy; his core must be destroyed. The act should remain just that, pure and simple. However, Wen Zhuliu had his marching orders. And he’d never betrayed his lords, nor his honor, yet.

Wen Zhuliu squeezed slowly, once, just until the edges of Jiang Cheng’s golden core were about to crack, and then he relaxed his hold.

A startled gasp escaped Jiang Cheng’s lips at the force of Wen Zhuliu’s ability, toying at destroying the most precious part of him from within. A relieved little whimper sounded against Jiang Cheng’s will when Wen Zhuliu spared him, for now. A sound of fear and weakness. Blood in the water.

“Isn’t it delicious?” Wen Chao rounded Jiang Cheng so that he stood behind him and whispered in his ear. “My core-crusher ruined your mother: made her nothing, weak, common, powerless. All right in front of your father’s eyes. And then he crushed your father’s core, too. They begged for their deaths after that. We were kind, really, to grant them such mercy. Everyone who’s lost their core says...”

Here, Wen Zhao leaned in so that his breath tickled Jiang Cheng’s ear. Wen Zhuliu could smell it where he stood in front of Jiang Cheng, still with his hand clasped loosely around Jiang Cheng’s golden core, and was unsurprised to smell that Wen Zhao reeked of the liquor he’d just won in battle.

“...Death is far kinder,” Wen Chao concluded. He nodded for Wen Zhuliu to begin again.

Jiang Cheng squeezed his eyes shut tight and bit his lip to keep from making any sounds this time. Slowly, Wen Zhuliu began to squeeze...

“If you beg,” Wen Chao promised, “maybe I’ll spare you. Get down on your knees. Lick my boots.”

Jiang Cheng might’ve been chained, captured, and helpless, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that Wen Chao would spare him. He refused to bow.

Wen Zhuliu squeezed harder. He needed to end this before Wen Zhao lost his temper and—

“Stop that!” Wen Chao slapped Wen Zhuliu’s hand away. “We don’t want the fun to end yet. Right, little Jiang?”

Wen Chao’s hand fisted in Jiang Cheng’s hair and yanked his head back painfully, so that his throat was exposed. “I could cut you right now, but that would be too easy. You think I’ll let you keep your pride?” His voice turned sharp and bitter. “You think you’re better than me?” He turned his glare on Wen Zhuliu this time.

It was around this time that Wen Zhuliu realized that things weren’t going to go well for him this evening, either.

With a disgusted sound, Wen Chao released Jiang Cheng and headed back to his throne, where Wang Lingjiao waited with a knowing smile. “That little pervert had a decent idea, actually,” he conceded as he flopped back down on the throne and splayed himself over it cockily, like he owned it and everything else in this domain. “Let’s give him a proper send-off before we crush his core.” Wen Chao turned a malicious smile on Wen Zhuliu. “It’s beneath my dignity, of course. However, you... Wen Zhuliu: so loyal, so dependable.”

Wen Zhuliu caught his breath and took one longer blink to compose himself. Those very words, of course, were the ones Wen Ruohan had favored him with when he’d assigned Wen Zhuliu to safeguard his younger son. Wen Zhuliu had known of Wen Chao’s resentment at the perceived slight: Wen Ruohan’s son, and yet not loyal and dependable. Not trustworthy. Not able to fight his own battles. It seemed that Wen Chao’s vindictive sphere was expanding the drunker he got.

“You should be able to teach this Jiang his proper place, right? After all, you’re so good at it.”

Wen Zhuliu might’ve known that every word of favor Wen Ruohan had gifted him with would be turned back on him in this way. He’d felt Wen Chao’s growing loathing, even as Wen Chao had become dependent upon Wen Zhuliu for his continued life. In a way, that made it even worse. After all, what sort of a Clan Leader’s son needed a bodyguard? Wen Chao’s pride had been festering for some time now.

Wen Zhuliu should’ve killed Jiang Cheng when he’d had the chance, before matters could turn worse for them both. Too late now.

“Yes,” Wen Chao said coldly, “I think that you should give this little Jiang a lesson. Show him what he’s going to be worth once his core is gone and he’s a nobody. And first, I think, that we should free him of the illusions of his finery.”

Wen Zhuliu did not wince. His self-control was better than that. However, some part of him had been hoping that he’d misconstrued Wen Chao’s intentions.

“Go on, now,” Wen Chao ordered. “Or are you too stupid to understand simple words?”

Wen Zhuliu unsheathed his sword. He spared Jiang Cheng a cursory look – Jiang Cheng seemed under the illusion that his golden core and his life were the only stakes at play still – and slashed out with one clean, perfect slice.

“What are you—?” Jiang Cheng began in outrage when his clothes split neatly down the middle, through all the layers of silk, and stopping precisely at his skin. His robes fell from him without so much as a drop of blood spilt. Jiang Cheng tried to squeeze his legs together and twist to conceal his nudity, but it was impossible with his arms chained above his head. And then Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened with foreknowledge of what Wen Chao truly intended for him this night, and his jaw dropped.

Wen Zhuliu spared him a solemn, apologetic nod.

“No...” Jiang Cheng whispered.

“Yes, yes!” Wen Chao clapped. “Beg! Beg for your honor!” He took another swig of the bottle that sat beside his new throne and offered it to Wang Lingjiao in turn.

Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth.

“Why so shy, though?” Wen Chao taunted him. “Let’s see what the high and mighty Jiang Clan has to show for themselves.” He nodded to Wen Zhuliu.

Wen Zhuliu sighed and yanked at one of the chains binding Jiang Cheng’s legs, forcing them to splay apart.

Jiang Cheng’s face burned with embarrassment, but bound spreadeagled there was nothing he could do to hide his nudity.

“Really?” Wen Chao scoffed. “Is that all? It’s so small! Might as well be a girl. I didn’t know the Jiangs were so...puny. Must come from a lifetime of not being able to get a woman to look at you. That’s okay, though. Someone like you has other uses.”

Jiang Cheng tried to bend his head forward so that his hair concealed his expression. Little defiances in little ways.

“Hey!” Wen Chao complained. “None of that. If our little”—here he snickered deliberately—“Jiang is going to make it as a whore in his next career, he needs to show off his pretty face. Help him out, Wen Zhuliu.”

Wen Zhuliu caught Jiang Cheng’s hair at his nape and pulled it back as gently as he could so that Jiang Cheng was forced to face Wen Chao. There was no honor in unnecessary cruelty, after all. If Wen Zhuliu was to do this, it would be as civilly as possible.

“Hmm, I don’t know...” Wen Chao pretended to contemplate. “Who’s going to pay for a mouth like that? Too angry. We need to make him prettier. What do you think, baby?” He turned to Wang Lingjiao.

She smiled at him dotingly and fluttered her eyelashes. “I have just the thing.” She held up a small brush and bottle. “This was mommy’s. I could never use it myself, of course,” she insisted. “It’s a cheap tart’s color.”

“Perfect!” Wen Chao said. “Like mother, like son. Here.” He took the makeup from Wang Lingjiao and tossed it to Wen Zhuliu. “Put it on him. Get him ready for the big night.”

Wen Zhuliu blinked down at the objects in his hand.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how?” Wen Chao asked. “I thought you were supposed to know everything, so perfect and reliable?”

Well, it couldn’t be that different from calligraphy, could it?

Wen Zhuliu opened the bottle. The brush felt too small for his fingers. He managed to coat the tip with Lady Yu’s lipstick, but he applied it too hard to the corner of Jiang Cheng’s sneering mouth, and it left a wide purple-red blotch at the corner.

“Don’t mind, don’t mind!” Wen Chao egged Wen Zhuliu on. “It doesn’t need to be perfect for a cheap whore like that.”

“This would go easier for you,” Wen Zhuliu said to Jiang Cheng under his breath, when his back was turned to Wen Zhao, “if you stayed still and didn’t fight it.”

Tears pooled at the corners of Jiang Cheng’s eyes and caught in his eyelashes. “I’ll kill you, I swear,” he hissed. “I’ll kill you all...”

Needless to say, he didn’t hold still but thrashed wildly. Wen Zhuliu was eventually forced to grab Jiang Cheng by the chin and hold him in place while he painted his lips. Jiang Cheng snapped at the brush and at Wen Zhuliu’s fingers. By the time Wen Zhuliu was done, Jiang Cheng’s face was a mess, smeared all over with violet.

“Now,” Wen Chao ordered, “make him suck it.”

Wen Zhuliu was familiar enough now with the speed and sharpness of Jiang Cheng’s teeth that he hesitated.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid? Just crush his core if he bites. Let him choose which fate is worse. Or isn’t your loyalty worth that?”

Wen Zhuliu grimaced, and he pressed down on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, forcing him to his knees. Jiang Cheng looked up at him wide-eyed and vaguely panicked, and then he looked down even wider-eyed when Wen Zhuliu opened his robes.

“You heard what he said,” Wen Zhuliu said reluctantly but firmly. He reached down through the grip he held on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder to find the paths of Jiang Cheng’s qi and clenched Jiang Cheng’s golden core to the point of breaking. “Your choice.” And then Wen Zhuliu leaned in so that his soft cock was within biting range. There was nothing he would not suffer for the sake of his honor, no pain too great. He had risked far worse in the past, after all.

“Do it good and sloppy,” Wen Chao instructed Jiang Cheng. “You need to get Mr. Stoic here hard for the main event.”

Wen Zhuliu pressed his cock to Jiang Cheng’s lips and at the same time broke the tiniest fracture at the edge of Jiang Cheng’s golden core.

Jiang Cheng let out a sob in response, and his lips parted.

Wen Zhuliu pushed his cock inside. No teeth, fate chosen. Jiang Cheng’s mouth was warm and wet, but he had tears streaming down his cheeks. Wen Zhuliu wasn’t particularly disposed to lusts of the body, and especially not like this. He didn’t harden at all, and Jiang Cheng’s muffled sobs around his dick weren’t helping.

“This latest Jiang whore is going to need some training,” Wen Chao said mock-sadly. “You put on this poor a performance with daddy watching?” He gestured to Jiang Fengmian’s strung-up corpse. “Don’t you want your father to be proud of you?”

Jiang Cheng gasped and choked, but making those sounds were counterproductive and just opened his mouth wider; Wen Zhuliu pressed deeper into the space provided.

“Oh, that’s right,” Wen Chao said coldly. “Your father was never proud of you, was he? Always second best. Always such a disappointment.” He all but snarled his rage at that last word.

Wen Zhuliu didn’t think Wen Ruohan had ever said it aloud. The whole Wen Clan knew, however. What father wouldn’t be disappointed? What father would want a son who would put on a spectacle like this?

“Fuck his mouth if he can’t even suck right,” Wen Chao ordered. “Make him learn.”

Jiang Cheng shook his head once, eyes tear-streamed and imploringly looking up at Wen Zhuliu.

Wen Zhuliu sighed and offered the advice, “Use your tongue. And suck in your cheeks.”

Jiang Cheng tried it, poorly.

With no other choice, Wen Zhuliu thrust hard once, straight into Jiang Cheng’s throat. Jiang Cheng started coughing uncontrollably, but some of that had the effect of constricting his throat and mouth, and Wen Zhuliu felt the beginnings of a stirring at the tightness.

“You too,” Wen Chao complained to Wen Zhuliu, “you’re supposed to be a reliable one, but you can’t even get it up with a willing hole in front of you? Here, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

He pulled Wang Lingjiao back into his lap and fumbled under her silks. She let out a delighted squeal and then a moan. Wen Zhuliu had no difficulty whatsoever conceding that Wen Chao was his superior in recklessly sticking his dick in unfortunate places.

Wang Lingjiao’s increasingly loud moans did not help Wen Zhuliu’s flagging erection at all. There was nothing else for it then:

Wen Zhuliu fisted his fingers in Jiang Cheng’s hair, forced his head into place, and then fucked in and out of his mouth roughly, as fast as he could, setting the demanding rhythm he needed to finally make his body respond. His cock ran wet with Jiang Cheng’s tears and saliva, but finally Wen Zhuliu hardened up enough to make a proper job of pressing down Jiang Cheng’s throat with each thrust.

“Took you long enough,” Wen Chao taunted. “I was beginning to think I’d have to call in some of our juniors to take over for you.”

Wen Zhuliu tried not to react visibly, but whatever tension tightened his body must have noticeable in his thrusts because Jiang Cheng reacted with a surprised dart of his eyes upwards.

See? Wen Zhuliu wanted to tell him. This is why you need to be compliant. Things can get so much worse for you. I cannot do much, but I can be the lesser evil. At least I do not take pleasure from this disgrace.

“Get on with the main event before you start flagging,” Wen Zhao ordered. “We want a show.”

Wang Lingjiao rocked forward on his lap with an excited little gasp and watched Wen Zhuliu with dark, wicked eyes. Of course she would savor Lady Yu’s son being thrown down into the gutter, below the position she’d crawled her way out of. Of course she enjoyed watching Wen Zhuliu suffer and struggle with something that was so easy for her, after Wen Zhuliu easily mastered the power she so deeply craved.

Wen Zhuliu couldn’t help but think, not for the first time, that Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao were fairly matched: both eager to take vengeance on others for the flaws they loathed in themselves. It was fitting that this fundamental flaw in both of them meant likewise that they could never find happiness together, for they could never find happiness, period.

Wen Zhuliu chose not to acknowledge either of them or their shameful behavior. He would follow orders as his loyalty demanded, but this was a job – nothing more – and he refused to partake in the petty cruelties of it.

He pulled out of Jiang Cheng’s mouth. His cock was now streaked purple with Lady Yu’s lipstick and slicked over with Jiang Cheng’s spit and tears. “Bend over,” Wen Zhuliu ordered, as he rounded Jiang Cheng’s nude, displayed body.

Jiang Cheng, either from shock or defiance, did not bend.

Wen Zhuliu shoved Jiang Cheng’s head down and his legs apart until he was splayed in convenient enough position, with the rounded bare curves of his ass in the air for all to see.

Jiang Cheng caught a sob in his chest and refused to let it go.

“If you take it,” Wen Chao said almost casually, conversationally, seemingly unaffected by Wang Lingjiao’s writhing body in his lap or the fact that he was gleefully demeaning Wen Zhuliu and Jiang Cheng both, “then we’ll know you’re a real whore. Anyone who didn’t want it would clench up tight enough to keep him out.”

Wen Zhuliu saw Jiang Cheng tense in surprise. It occurred to Wen Zhuliu that Jiang Cheng could well be naive enough to believe that.

“Don’t listen to him,” Wen Zhuliu said under his breath as he positioned himself. “You need to relax, not clench. It’s not physically possible to stop this. Tensing up will make it more painful for you. That’s what he wants.”

Jiang Cheng’s back heaved with several gasping breaths, but Wen Zhuliu couldn’t tell if he’d gotten the message. If he’d believed Wen Zhuliu.

“Show him his place,” Wen Chao ordered impatiently. He sat back on his throne, and Wang Lingjiao suddenly crawled back off his lap, so apparently Wen Zhuliu and Jiang Cheng had become the greater source of amusement.

Wen Zhuliu couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he pushed slowly but firmly into the tight hole between Jiang Cheng’s spread cheeks. Gave him time to adjust. Tried to be as considerate about this as he could.

Maybe Jiang Cheng was trying not to clench, but Wen Zhuliu couldn’t feel the difference. Wen Zhuliu had to force his way inside and felt something stretch and tear on his way in. Jiang Cheng’s sob escaped his lips with a great, gasping heave, and then he was crying out in pain with each rock of Wen Zhuliu’s hips. Wen Zhuliu had to work himself in one nudge at a time. There was no doubt in his mind now that Jiang Cheng had been virginal. Finally, he bottomed out with a deep sigh.

Wen Zhuliu took no pleasure in this, of course, but it was a relief to finally have some of his basic needs seen to.

With Jiang Cheng’s hole forced open and now being slowly fucked, Jiang Cheng’s tension had seemingly shifted to his hands instead. Wen Zhuliu watched Jiang Cheng’s fingers twist in the chains that bound him, wrenching his wrists bloody on the metal. Maybe that pain distracted him from the other: the feeling of Wen Zhuliu now thrusting into him over and over, deep and full each time.

“Look at him taking it just like a pro.” Wen Chao sat back delightedly.

In Lady Yu’s seat beside him, Wang Lingjiao was now tidying her hair using a little pocket mirror. The mirror was engraved with the Jiang lotus motif on the back, etched in precious metals, the spoils of war, Wen Zhuliu noticed. From the little catch in Jiang Cheng’s breath, he’d noticed as well. His mother’s probably.

“He still needs training on how to enjoy it, though. Wen Zhuliu, honestly, I thought you’d be better at this! Given how highly my father speaks of you, I’d think you could handle a simple task without needing such constant instruction.” The vindictive joy at delivering such instruction was only too clear in Wen Chao’s eyes. “Give him a hand.”

Wen Zhuliu gritted his teeth. Wen Zhuliu probably had to come before this disgrace could come to an end, but it seemed unfair that Jiang Cheng should be forced to, as well. Still, an order was an order, and Wen Zhuliu had his honor to uphold.

He reached around to fist Jiang Cheng’s cock, which was unsurprisingly still soft, and began to work it slowly in his palm. Jiang Cheng whimpered piteously. Wen Zhuliu could tell that Jiang Cheng was trying to fight the sensation from the way his body tensed up and he began shaking his head minutely. The walls of his ass clenched and trembled around Wen Zhuliu’s cock, as if Jiang Cheng hoped that by remembering what was being forced into him, he could somehow undo his body’s instinctive reaction.

“Do you think you can do it like that?” Wen Zhao asked, eyes alight with cruelty and leaning forward on his stolen throne eagerly. “You only need to make contact with one of his direct qi lines, right?”

It took a minute for Wen Zhuliu to realize what Wen Zhao was asking. And then immediately he was filled with revulsion. He’d honed his ability carefully for years. It was meant to protect: to remove dangerously powerful enemies permanently. It wasn’t meant to be perverted like this, for fickle cruelties.

“That’s an order,” Wen Zhao said. “Make him come...and destroy him all in one stroke. Or is this the point where your loyalty fails you?”

Wen Zhuliu bowed his head. The hand wrapped around Jiang Cheng’s cock pulled tighter, twisted against Jiang Cheng’s will.

“No, no, no please!” Jiang Cheng begged.

Wen Zhuliu forced his qi up through Jiang Cheng’s cock, up and inside, until he wrapped around Jiang Cheng’s golden core.

“S-Stop!” Jiang Cheng sobbed. “Why are you doing this?”

“That’s it!” Wen Zhao laughed and slapped his knee. “Not so high and mighty now, are you?”

With a final flick of his wrist, Wen Zhuliu sent pleasure pulsing, spilling forth from Jiang Cheng’s cock and simultaneously sent destruction burning, crushing back up inside him through his core and out. Jiang Cheng came with a cry, and his golden core split and shattered to pieces with a scream of agony.

“Do you think,” Wen Chao said coldly when it was over, “that this little whore ever be able to feel pleasure again?” He gave Wen Zhuliu an approving look. “Ruined him for life. Not that there’s much life left for him now.”

Wen Zhuliu met Wen Chao’s eyes once defiantly, refusing to be humbled or lessened by what he’d been ordered to do. He slipped out of Jiang Cheng – he himself had come only weakly and piteously, but at least it was over – and tucked himself back into his robes before straightening them. Neat and tidy once more.

Jiang Cheng slumped down to the floor, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He seemed incapable of caring about his state of dishevelment anymore. His bare ass was still raised in the air, and Wen Zhuliu could see the wet streak where he’d pulled out, tinged pink with blood and lipstick, and the spasms of Jiang Cheng’s spoiled hole, still stretched wide and waiting for use.

Jiang Cheng didn’t sob any further. In fact, he seemed to have gone numb and still. That happened to some channelers after Wen Zhuliu melted their cores: they simply lost the will to live and bumbled about in a daze like the walking dead.

Wen Chao pouted. “Aww, look at that: all the fun gone out of him so soon!” He rose from the throne and stalked over the Jiang Cheng’s prone body, as if he’d been afraid to before, back when Jiang Cheng had still had fight in him. “Hey, if you don’t entertain us, we’ll have no choice but to donate you to the nearest whorehouse!” He kicked Jiang Cheng in the side, but Jiang Cheng merely slowly rolled over, as if he were an inanimate object. “I’ll bet you’ll be a big attraction: the former son of a clan leader. They’ll queue for miles to fuck you raw.”

Still no response.

Wen Chao turned away in disgust, a petulant child who’d broken his own toy yet still refused to acknowledge any blame for his actions. “What are we doing here, anyway?” he asked lightly, and extended a hand to Wang Lingjiao. “This is the night of the Wen Clan’s victory over these traitors. It’s time to celebrate!”

Wang Lingjiao laughed with him, and together they made their way out into the courtyard where blood and wine were being split in equal measure.

Wen Zhuliu lingered behind. He watched their backs and tried not to hate. He belonged to the Wen Clan. He owed them everything. It was not for him to judge or feel. It was only for him to obey. Nonetheless, he picked up the two split halves of Jiang Cheng’s robes and draped them over his nude body. They were woefully deficient now, but at least they disguised some of Jiang Cheng’s nudity.

Wen Zhuliu hesitated, then leaned in almost apologetically. “You weren’t the one who behaved dishonorably here tonight. No matter what was done to you, you had no choice in the matter.” A longer pause. “And neither did I. I only did what any loyal servant must.”

Jiang Cheng tensed once then and managed to look up at Wen Zhuliu with some last ember of fight. “You just keep telling yourself that.” It seemed like he wanted to rage and spit and snarl, but he didn’t have that much light in him anymore. “Your loyalty is your dishonor. And you have to live with that the rest of your life.”

Wen Zhuliu hardened his expression to stone and turned away. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he said before he stalked away, but despite the fact that his voice was loud and clear and Jiang Cheng’s was a barely heard rasp, it seemed to Wen Zhuliu that his words were the weaker.

“Come!” Wen Chao said once Wen Zhuliu came outside to join the rest of the revelry. “Join our Clan’s victory!”

Wen Zhuliu tensed his jaw and nodded. He had remained loyal, despite this most horrific of all tests. Surely, he had proved himself true already. Surely, his honor stood for itself.

Wen Chao’s eyes were laughing, gleeful, as if Wen Zhuliu had proven himself not unwavering in his honor but on the same base, diseased level as Wen Chao himself.

“Let’s see,” Wen Chao said mercilessly, “how else you can prove your loyalty tonight!”

Loyal and honorable to the end.