Maoqiu Fan Fiction: a Butterfly—a Bee's Eternity Fade unto Divinity

"Maoqiu, how many times must I remind you? People are devious.”

Maoqiu lazily reclines in the soft sand, his gaze fixed on the boundless ocean. The moon ascended into the night sky, a perfect circle of light dwarfs the starlight. Tonight, the moonlight bathes the beach in a soft white glow, reminiscent of the time he met his master. The sea carried a fresh scent that momentarily masked the slightly rotting smell that permeated the island. Maoqiu raises his wine gourd to his lips, welcoming the bittersweet taste of alcohol. 

As the wine dulls his senses, Maoqiu sees the full moon, a beacon of hope, yearning for a long-lost lover's return. Maoqiu was never one for sentimentality, yet every time he gazes upon the full moon, a wave of longing for what has been lost, washes over him. Instantly, a surge of rage and annoyance welled up, fueled by the passing years that were never meant to be.

How long has it been since Master Xiang Liu passed away? It felt like a lifetime had passed since Maoqiu last saw him, dressed in a white robe stained with the crimson of battle, his white hair as pristine as snowfall dancing in the wind, standing his ground like an ice sculpture crafted from the finest snowflakes. His peach blossom shaped eyes, unyielding and steadfast, commands the attention of a thousand arrows, flying straight at him. His spiritual powers weakened and trampled, each arrow piercing through him, his blood seeping, turning black and burning the land.  

Maoqiu was flying toward Jade Mountain, tasked with delivering a gift to Sir Ah Bie for Miss XiaoYao—a gift that turned out to be the ugliest wooden doll he had ever laid eyes on. Filled with annoyance and dread, Maoqiu found himself unable to disobey. Master Xiang Liu was a demon of resolution and principle; he would not abandon General Gong Gong, his adopted father, nor his comrades in arms. Though Maoqiu longed to follow him to the river of death, his master forbade it.

Upon returning from his task, Maoqiu remembered soaring above the island where his master perished. Unable to land, with no body to bury and no opportunity to pay respect, Maoqiu’s mournful screech echoed for leagues. Master Xiang Liu was more than just his master; he was like a father. As a young demon, he didn’t comprehend the ways of deities and humans, yet Master Xiang Liu never spoiled him. Xiang Liu was the kind of demon who wanted to see his charges grow and succeed. The ability to stand on one’s own feet came with harsh lessons to be learned. Mistakes were better left unmade, and if they occurred, one needed to learn from them. To Master Xiang Liu, the failure to learn from one’s mistakes meant death.

As a baby white condor, he had fallen from his nest and been abandoned by his mother. Unable to spread his wings, Maoqiu let out a piercing mournful cry. Xiang Liu, who happened to be lounging on a tree branch, drinking wine and drowning out the chatter from the Chenrong camp, was interrupted by the resonant sound cutting through the calm night. Eyes closed, wine gourd in his left arm, resting on his knee, Xiang Liu twirled the wine with flicks of his wrist. The moonlight peeked through the cloudy night, and its rays softly traced his beautiful features. Maoqiu’s keening cry continued, and with a furrow of his eyebrows, Xiang Liu opened his eyes, blood red. Abruptly, Maoqiu’s cry was muffled, the sound stuck in his throat, and he found himself unable to breathe.

"If you don't learn to spread your wings, you are as good as dead," Xiang Liu flew down the tree, his eyes intense, glaring at Maoqiu. His white silhouette illuminated by the full moon, he landed softly on the ground. Xiang Liu crouched down, wine gourd still in his left hand, he hissed, "Your mother is right to abandon you. What's the use if she returns for you when you can't even fly?"

Maoqiu remembered that he was afraid to die and wanted to live, but he couldn’t stop crying. After a while, Xiang Liu, annoyed, said, “If I help you spread your wings, will you obey me?”

The memory began to fade as Maoqiu continued to gulp down the strong wine. Unlike his master, whose hair was as white and delicate as snowfall, Maoqiu's hair shone like yellow moonlight and glittered in starlight. In the sun, it reflected pale yellow hued peonies. Like his master, Maoqiu’s face was delicate and beautiful - so much, that he often was mistaken as a beautiful woman. His eyes were a faint blue that reflected the ocean, clear and translucent. A mole sat just above the tip of his lips. Adorned in an indigo dyed robe, with exquisite embroidery of willow trees, Maoqiu was decorated in a silver necklace crafted by his teacher, a jewelry maker of the Juili. 

Maoqiu would never admit it, but he had made it a habit to wear the dark indigo blue as it reminded him of the night skies, flying freely with his Master. The silver he adorned reflected the moonlight, and flickered where there was no light. In the early years after the passing of his master, Maoqiu would occasionally search the skies, flying beyond the oceans, in the direction of the moon, for news of Miss XiaoYao. Soaring over lush green islands, filled with colorful flowers, and bright bitter fruits, Maoqiu hopes to witness just a glimpse of the life his master treasures more than his own. Even though his master never asked him, Maoqiu felt a filial duty to make sure that Xiang Liu’s sacrifices were not made in vain. It would have pain his heart to see a life that could’ve been for his master. Yet after a half a millennium, he never saw or heard of her again. Another half millennium will go by and still no words or sightings.

Maoqiu thought to himself, 'Everyone attributes peace to the Black Emperor.' He snickered. From the bottom of his heart, Maoqiu knew it was the death of his master that ultimately ushered in a world where all beings—deities, humans, and demons—could coexist without war. A peaceful time didn’t equate to a life without suffering. He takes another gulp of wine, and memories flicker and the sound of chains rang in his ear.

Five hundred years after the passing of his master, Maoqiu gained his human form. Still weak and unable to fully control his limbs, he was captured by traffickers, destined for the fighting cages. Thanks to the many years of cultivating with Master Xiang Liu, Maoqiu’s blood was so toxic it could burn through chains—a unique saving grace. Half-dead, he soon found his way to the Jiuli tribe, where he stayed, made his home, and learned to craft silver jewelry. His jewelry skills soon became so well sought after by rich deities, and he soon found himself a traveling merchant. Since his transformation, shifting into his true form and back for travel had been such a hassle that he had to painstakingly navigate Dahaung by foot. If he had known what a pain it would be, he would have resisted the transformation with his last breath.

“Master!” a screech sounds from the jagged rocks behind him. “I'm so hungry. There's no food on this godforsaken island.” Huayu stumbles through the beach and drops some driftwood and sticks next to where Maoqiu lies. Then, she marches up to Maoqiu, swatting, and looks at him with big round eyes, glistening in the moonlight. “Master, look, I was able to find this, but I am spent, and if I don't get food, you might as well prepare a funeral for me.”

Maoqiu glares at Huayu, a petite young high-level demon, piercing through her male illusion. Her hair pinned into a simple bun, a purple butterfly fluttering nested comfortably in the bun, and several strands of ebony hair shape her beautifully handsome oval face. Like Maoqiu, she is dressed in a similar indigo-dyed robe with intricate embroideries of the Jiuli tribe, rustling softly with every move. She dons a simple silver necklace with a pair of butterflies that glitters like twilight under the moon, especially crafted by Maoqiu for her. 

He side-eyes her and rises to a sitting position, gazing at her with amusement. With pursed lips, she pouted. Finally, Maoqiu concedes and smirks softly, revealing a dimple that sinks into his right cheek. He hands her his wine gourd. Huayu's pout curved into a grin as she took the gourd and stood up. She bowed and, with a wave of her hand, led the way for Maoqiu.

He stands up and walks towards the ocean. His tall posture, regal and his moonlit hair gleaming like starlight. With the rise of water vapor, a great white and gold condor emerges where her master stood, Huayu's face brightens in awe when Maoqiu spreads his wings and takes off towards the moon. “Master, get me the biggest fish!” She screams happily.