Chapter Four
The weapons in the hands of the Imperial Guards cast a pallid light on Fu Yixiao, who leaned against the stone cliff, her face as pale as paper.
She sat quietly, her eyelids lowered, gently plucking the strings of her Silver Bow as if keeping time. Her song, serene and faint to the extreme, carried a tragic intensity:
"Sun and moon, why do you wane so oft? My heart is heavy as unwashed robes. In silence I ponder, yet cannot take flight..."
She sang the last word very, very slowly, then struggled to rise, using the bow as a crutch. Standing against the wind, she gazed up at the sky.
Ning Fei could barely hold back the moisture welling in his eyes.
Yixiao—this childhood friend, this comrade who had fought side by side with him for three years, this person who could entrust her undefended back to him with just a glance—what kind of obsession had driven her to such a tragic end?
Xiao Weiran's voice carried a note of helplessness. "Yixiao, if you surrender and plead guilty, Ning Fei and I will surely beg for leniency on your behalf before His Highness. But if you persist, you will truly be forcing us into dishonor."
Fu Yixiao, her robes fluttering wildly in the wind, listened quietly but did not reply. She merely slung the Silver Bow across her back and lowered her head, painstakingly straightening her disheveled clothes with her uninjured hand. Her deep eyes held nothing but boundless emptiness.
Ning Fei, his eyes red with urgency, drove his long blade into the ground and roared, "Get the hell down from there, or I swear I'll turn on you!"
"You should understand—when I came here today, I had no intention of returning alive," Yixiao finally spoke, her voice low and hoarse. As Ning Fei froze, Xiao Weiran sighed softly, his tone gentler now. "Come down. Ning Fei and I will find a way to mediate for you. We won’t let you—"
"I know," she interrupted, her smile still warm. "But I won’t thank you. Knowing you both has been enough for this lifetime... There’s one thing I must tell His Highness. After that, I’ll come down—Ning Fei, come here."
Without hesitation, Ning Fei strode toward her. Yixiao watched him approach, her gaze clear as water. "Tell His Highness for me—he must never forget me. Let him be prepared. I will haunt him, life after life!" With that, she swayed, then wrenched the Iron Arrow piercing her shoulder free and flung it into Ning Fei’s arms before turning and leaping off the cliff.
Your Highness, since you cannot give me the love I desire, then let me take control of you instead—force you to remember me, Fu Yixiao, for the rest of your life, branded into your bones.
Ning Fei stood stunned for a moment before throwing the arrow aside and lunging to the cliff’s edge, screaming after her retreating figure, "Damn you, Yixiao! What the hell are you doing?! You’re just going to abandon us and die alone like this?! You bastard!!!"
The Imperial Guards who had come to capture her were also shaken by the tragic scene. Xiao Weiran closed his eyes and sighed heavily before finally ordering, "Come with me to report back—bring that arrow as well." Only then did the guards snap out of their daze. One timidly picked up the arrow behind Ning Fei and followed Xiao Weiran as they swiftly descended the mountain. Soon, only Ning Fei remained at the summit, sitting by the cliff’s edge in the wind.
Why did you do this? Why, after all these years, do I still not understand you? Why can’t I know you as Weiran does...?
"Yixiao!" Ning Fei howled into the sky. Countless echoes reverberated through the valley— "Yixiao... Yixiao..." —growing fainter and fainter until they faded into silence.At the cliff's base, Xia Jingshi's hand trembled slightly as he took the Iron Arrow still stained with Yixiao's blood. The mechanical description from Xiao Weiran echoed in his ears, and a wave of convulsive pain suddenly surged in his heart. He could almost see Yixiao gazing up at the sky—was it to hide her tears?
Xiao Weiran let out a long sigh. "Ning Fei is still up there—he and Yixiao were very close, so he probably won’t come down anytime soon... Yixiao asked him to relay a message to Your Highness: she will haunt you for all eternity."
Xia Jingshi clenched the arrow tightly, standing dazed for a long while before softly ordering, "Turn around. We’re returning to Lucheng..."
Ten days later, news spread through the Brocade Dynasty that King Who Pacifies the South, Xia Jingshi, had fallen gravely ill on his way to Vermilion Sand Country for the marriage alliance and had no choice but to return to Lucheng to recuperate.
The marriage alliance was postponed indefinitely.
Fu Yixiao did not die. Her severely wounded body drifted in the rushing river at the valley’s bottom, occasionally colliding with rocks protruding from the water, yet she never attempted to climb onto them.
If her heart was already dead, what use was this body?
Suddenly, a rope flew from the side, looping around her neck. She struggled instinctively to free herself.
Don’t save me—unless you’re him.
Ignoring her resistance, the rope was lazily reeled in until she was dragged onto the shallows, where she met a pair of curious and concerned eyes. "Huh? You really aren’t dead!"
"Why did you save me?" Yixiao, now exhausted, asked weakly.
"Idiot! If I didn’t save you, you’d really be dead!" Ling Xueying rolled her eyes and removed the rope from Yixiao’s neck.
Returning to the Fu family was no longer an option. After recovering from her injuries, Yixiao followed Xueying back to the Ling residence. There, the maids moving about the courtyard were all graceful, demure, and silent. Xueying’s father, the city governor of Caocheng—a former martial artist who had left the jianghu for the sake of his wife and daughter—listened to Xueying’s account of Yixiao’s story and simply said, "To find happiness, you must learn to let go."
Letting go—two words so deceptively simple.
Extreme love and hatred tormented her uncontrollable heart and mind. She embedded the Silver Bow into the wall and began indulging in revelry, playing with the world. Over the next four years, drunken songs became her means of release, and "Snowy Shadow of Pingling, A Beauty’s Smile" became the most talked-about topic among the noble youths of Pingling. Yet, the desolation after the music ended always followed her, and the loneliness of each long night left her already wounded heart even emptier—because the one person she longed for was never by her side.
This shattered, unhealed heart was something she dared not touch, for the slightest contact would bring unbearable pain. The slightest glimpse would reveal it filled entirely with his shadow, and the slightest pressure would cause longing to spill everywhere—the string of her thoughts about him was stretched too taut, unable to bear any further strain. She didn’t even dare to cry or to miss him.
For four years, Xueying stayed by her side. When she was drunk, Xueying brewed strong tea to sober her up; when she cried, Xueying wiped her tears... Ling Xueying, a spoiled young lady doted on by her parents, was the only one who remained her constant comfort during those four years.While accompanying Xueying to the book market, Yixiao once asked her, "We're not related by blood or bound by obligation, so why do you treat me so well?" Upon hearing this, Xueying promptly smacked the book she was flipping through onto Yixiao's head. "If you died, where would I find an excuse to sneak out and play all day?" Before the words had fully left her mouth, Xueying was already running away, laughing heartily...
Life continued like this, until the strings snapped, the heart shattered, until the day when longing became too heavy to bear any longer...
To find happiness, one must learn to let go.
Xueying set out the very next day. Before leaving, she repeatedly instructed Yixiao to wait for her return before going to Lucheng. Yixiao agreed without hesitation.
Xueying, it's not that I'm brushing you off. If I'm not mistaken, these past few days they've already turned all of Pingling upside down. They'll find this place soon.
Very soon.
The clip-clop of hooves approached the city gates of Pingling before long. The clamor of voices grew louder nearby as Xueying lifted the carriage curtain to peer ahead.
A large crowd had gathered at the usually unobstructed city gate, while the guards continued their unhurried shouts, directing carriages and pedestrians into two separate lines for inspection before allowing anyone to pass through.
"What's going on?" Xueying's maid, Xiumu, frowned impatiently. "Of all days to start inspections, it had to be when the young mistress is traveling." The coachman guided the carriage toward the long queue while casually replying, "It's been like this for days now. The guards keep holding up two portrait scrolls to compare faces. Who knows if some wealthy family lost valuables or a servant ran away. But don't worry, miss, it won't delay us long."
Xueying's gaze fixed on the jumbled crowd at the gate. It seemed... Suddenly, she dropped the curtain and ordered, "Turn around. I'm not leaving the city after all. You'll still be paid in full!" The coachman hesitated briefly before cheerfully complying, steering the horses to make a U-turn. Xiumu looked at Xueying in startled confusion. "Young mistress—" Xueying raised a finger to her lips with a frown. "Stay calm. We'll talk when we get back."
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