Ah, it’s so good to be back.

It's been a long day. Qi was home at last. He took a long deep breath, letting heavy perfume fill his lungs. Curvaceous shadows danced behind a folded screen. Tinkling lutes played a fragrant tune. Painted lanterns dangled from the low-hanging ceiling, wavering in the breeze from the open window.

“Young master Qi, it's been how long?"

A red, translucent handkerchief fell upon his face. He opened his eyes and saw two girls giggling and clapping their hands. He exhaled. The handkerchief flew up in the air and landed on a courtesan's lap. He grabbed the handkerchief and her pale thighs. The thighs felt like a soft pillow. It's been a while since he last laid his head on one— a pillow of course.

"Since my last visit?" Qi thought about it for a second. "I've been coming here every night, I think. Well, almost. My sleep's been a bit patchy lately."

Courtesan no. 1 poured him a generous helping of wine into the jewelled goblet. The liquid rose up, along with Qi's tired reflection from the ruddy depths. Qi had his father's sharp features, but his mother's soft eyes. His father's tenacity, his mother's quirks. The name 'Qi' referred to his Bloodbird's Mask.

Qi swung the drink back and grimaced at the taste— bland, watery, unsatisfying.

Courtesan no. 1 pressed on. "No, when was the last time you went back home to Hell? Twenty, thirty years ago?"

"Maybe more," Courtesan no. 2 added.

Qi didn't feel like responding, so he remained silent. There were better things to do than arguing with imaginary friends in his head. He wasn't that crazy.

No. 1 massaged his slumped shoulders without permission. "But your brother," she cooed, "He's been demolishing cities, flattening mountains looking for you. He needs you. Your father too. The entire Mo realm awaits the Omen's timely return."

Qi laughed humourlessly. "Yeah, well, they won't find me here."

This girl was getting on his nerves. She disappeared with the snap of a finger.

Determined to get his attention, No. 2 wrapped a finger around his ponytail and tugged it few times, eliciting a wordless grumble. Then she took apart his hairclip, letting his knotted black hair to pour down his shoulders.

"Go away," Qi swatted and snapped his fingers once more. Now he was alone. Just how he liked it.

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The wine he chose tonight was named the Pear Blossom's Tear. It had a deep-red hue and smelled like springtime. It looked delectable enough but tasted like fruit juice. It was his brother's favourite wine. Guizhen was too young. He hadn't lived long enough or experienced enough pain to know what good wine was.

Upon the ornate wooden table were pears. Hundreds of them, piled into mountains. His brother liked pears the most. They were Guizhen's favourite food.

Qi sighed again. He reached a clawed finger to the top of his head and scratched his itchy horns. All he wanted was some peace of mind. He hated having a conscience. It had been forty years since he spoke with his family, and he missed them every day. Not enough to return to the Mo realm— but the guilt ate at him nonetheless.

The mortal realm was more fun. For one, mortal females were easier on the eyes than demons. But they only had a few years of good looks before becoming a wrinkly bag of bones, then a box of ashes.

In the nation of Qinliang, every soul reincarnated after death. Qi's job as the Omen, God of Death, was to ensure the continuation of the cycle. Collecting souls of the dead was hard, thankless work. He wasn't lazy. He just needed plenty of vacations—forty-year-long ones to be exact.

"Hey. Hey! Asshole."

Qi shot up upon hearing Guizhen's voice. He blinked, and the tinkling lutes stopped playing, and the curvaceous dancers vanished with a pop. He sat in dark silence, petrified with fear and guilt, as his brother's footsteps thumped along the floorboards.

Guizhen was tall, broad demon with long black hair that curtained at the sides. The antlers on his head looked especially sharp and menacing, being shone by red lanterns dangling from the brothel's short ceiling. The demon waved a long sleeve. Instantly, the walls of the brothel melted into pools of lava, bubbling around his feet.

Qi chuckled. "I.. I, uh, I can explain."

Guizhen glared, as if trying to set Qi on fire too. He grabbed his brother by the collar and pulled him forward over the table. Plates shattered. Pears rolled onto the floor. "Really? Humour me then."

"Well you see—"

"—Tell me brother, why did you run away right on the brink of war?" A hand closed around Qi's throat. "Winter's coming. Dad said a heavenly assault will come before the first snow!"

"Chill, will you?" Qi choked out. "It's only the middle of summer!" If Brother wanted a conversation, he could at least give Qi some air in his lungs.

A wet wind blew from outside the window, filling the dead air of the room with dancing blossoms. Guizhen coughed and waved his hand. He hated being out in the mortal realm in the summer. The humidity, the nasal congestion were an absolute ordeal. Guizhen preferred Mo's dry, scorching heat. Qi didn't care for the mortal realm's climate either. But in the mortal realm, Qi didn't have Dad looming over his shoulder, asking when he was going to finally inherit the crown. Qi ate whatever he wanted, and slept wherever he wished.

"We're leaving." Guizhen said, picking Qi up by the waist. He threw his older brother over his shoulder like a broken doll.

"You can't kidnap me in my own dream!"

Guizhen let out a dark chuckle. "Father's words— take him home, wherever he is. If he screams, choke him. If he cries, hit him."

"Lingluo, Wuyou!" Qi called upon his pupils for help. Two shadows appeared from the abyss— a boy and a girl, horned, clawed, just like the two brothers. Qi was the Omen, God of Death. His pupils were the Gods of Death. Qi figured at the time, he really should have coined a more creative term for them.

The twins nodded to each other, as if they'd done this a thousand times before. They dashed before their Shifu and got into position. One punched Qi's head, and the other gnawed him in the arm.