"Very good," An Jiu remarked objectively.
Lou Xiaowu immediately beamed, her eyes curving into crescents.
After the excitement faded, exhaustion set in. Lou Xiaowu rubbed her eyes and nestled into Mei Yanran's arms, quickly falling asleep.
Li Qingzhi sighed, "With such a fine weapon, how could we not drive the Liao People out of the Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun?"
An Jiu sat on a large rock by the stream, watching as Mei Yanran dampened a cloth and carefully wiped the grime from Lou Xiaowu’s little face.
Mo Sigui sat down beside her. "Envious?"
An Jiu averted her gaze, ignoring him.
"The third medicinal bath is in five years. Remember to come find me." Mo Sigui pulled a Medicine Bottle from his sleeve and pressed it into her hand. "These are the remaining medicinal pills. The Heart blood is exceptionally potent, especially after injuries, but you must never take too much—it’ll do more harm than good."
"Mm." An Jiu carefully tucked the Medicine away.
Gu Jinghong had streaked across the night sky like a meteor, dazzling and then vanishing without a trace. An Jiu didn’t feel particularly grateful to him, but she couldn’t shake the inexplicable sense of kinship—two souls adrift in the same storm.
"After this parting, who knows when we’ll meet again? Anything to say to me?" Mo Sigui, uncharacteristically sentimental, prodded.
An Jiu thought for a moment, then said earnestly, "After I leave, don’t bully Da Jiu."
"Get the hell out of here! I don’t even know you!" Mo Sigui shoved her.
An Jiu grinned.
"Idiot." Mo Sigui waved her off, clamping his pipe between his teeth and muttering, "Why should I stoop to a fool’s level?"
"Mo Sigui, I really am a little worried about you," An Jiu admitted.
Touched despite himself, Mo Sigui paused and looked at her.
An Jiu asked gravely, "Your insomnia is so severe. Will you even live another five years?"
"What kind of bullshit is that?!" Mo Sigui sprang up, jabbing his pipe at her nose. "Are you mocking my medical skills?!"
The tension between them crackled like a drawn bowstring, making it seem as though their friendship had reached its breaking point.
But after locking eyes with An Jiu’s sincere gaze for a moment, Mo Sigui couldn’t sustain his anger. He flicked his sleeve in frustration and stormed off, grumbling, "I’m writing to Chu Dingjiang—get this brat out of here as soon as possible. Another moment in her company, and I swear life isn’t worth living..."
An Jiu stood and headed back to the residence.
Lou Mingyue was just setting down a bundle of firewood under the eaves of the kitchen.
Both paused at the same time. Lou Mingyue gave her a slight nod.
An Jiu clasped her fists in salute.
Silence stretched between them. After a few breaths, An Jiu turned and walked away without a word. She and Lou Mingyue walked different paths—though they traveled the same road, An Jiu still yearned for the light, hoping one day to live a normal life. Because of this, she couldn’t help but feel some resistance toward Lou Mingyue, who had plunged headlong into a path of no return.
Lou Mingyue was self-aware enough not to hope for friendship. The hatred in her heart, along with the one person buried deep in her memories, was enough to carry her through this life.
The next day.
Before dawn, Lou Mingyue went out as usual to chop firewood, stacking it by the kitchen before lighting the stove to boil water.
The firelight cast a warm glow over her gradually fuller face. As the water bubbled and steam rose, she extinguished the flames, took up her sword, and stepped outside.
The doors and windows of the main hall were shut tight, but Lou Mingyue sensed something amiss with Mo Sigui. She stopped and gazed in that direction, her expression softening as if she could see his face through the latticed window.
Mo Sigui, peering through the crack in the door, spotted Lou Mingyue’s silhouette. His hand hovered over the latch, hesitating.The two stood separated by a door for a long while, until movement came from Mei Yanran’s room, prompting Lou Mingyue to turn and leave swiftly.
Mo Sigui let out a slow sigh, his hand dropping to his side as he murmured to himself, “Mo Ran, oh Mo Ran, you don’t even have the courage to bid farewell with grace!”
Hearing this and seeing the steam rising from the kitchen, Mei Yanran guessed that Lou Mingyue had already left and couldn’t help but sigh as well. “Life is already so hard—a temporary parting is nothing!”
Mo Sigui paused for a moment before turning to the medicine storage to pick out the herbs he needed for the day.
In his past medical practice, he had recorded many difficult and rare cases, most of which he had already resolved. Studying medicine behind closed doors was not advisable, so he planned to travel soon in search of various cases and rare medicinal herbs. Until then, he spent most of his time practicing his Inner Force.
Those with the Wind Meridian were considered uniquely blessed, as their Inner Force cultivation was ten or even a hundred times easier than others. But the world was often fair—those born with the Wind Meridian were more susceptible to malevolent influences. The so-called “malevolent influences” were not supernatural entities but a term from The Way of Medicine, roughly meaning they were more prone to external influences and illness than ordinary people.
Moreover, Mo Sigui frequently tested Medicine on himself, rendering most common remedies ineffective. If he contracted a serious illness, it might well be incurable, so An Jiu’s concerns were not unfounded.
For him, prevention was the best cure.
Life on the island returned to its leisurely and uneventful rhythm, while the outside world was thrown into chaos over the case of Ling Ziyue.
Many scholars concerned with current affairs submitted joint petitions, urging the court to reinvestigate the case thoroughly. After all, Ling Ziyue was a pivotal figure for the Great Song. Yet all these requests were rejected. The court’s response was that the case was clear-cut, the evidence irrefutable, and there was no need to waste time reopening it.
As the year drew to a close, though Ling Ziyue’s fate was of great consequence, it did not stop households from preparing for the New Year. As long as the sky didn’t fall, life had to go on.
Amidst the turmoil, the ninth day of the twelfth month arrived swiftly.
That day, snow fell over Bianjing.
The heavy snow poured down densely, as if intent on burying the heavens and the earth.
Executions by beheading were typically scheduled for autumn and winter—first, because these seasons carried an air of solemnity; second, because the busy farming season had ended, allowing crowds to gather and witness the punishment as a deterrent against crime; and third, because the colder weather made it easier to handle corpses without risking an outbreak of plague.
Ling Ziyue had “coincidentally” fallen into this timeframe. Given the severity of his crimes, the emperor could not afford to delay his execution until the following year.
The marketplace was already packed with people, while An Jiu and her companions lay in ambush at various points.
Wearing a Human Skin Mask, she sat in a private room of a teahouse twenty zhang away, watching through the window.
It was still early. The execution site was heavily guarded, the officials had yet to arrive, and the prisoner had not been brought forth. Yet An Jiu could already sense the undercurrents of tension. Martial arts masters from the fourth to the ninth rank numbered over two hundred in the vicinity—and the count was steadily rising!
Surely the Second Prince wouldn’t go to such lengths? An Jiu wondered skeptically.
By the end of the Si hour, soldiers began clearing the streets, and soon the execution officials arrived alongside the prisoner’s cart.
Unlike ordinary executions, straw mats were hung around the execution platform, and even the prisoner’s cart was draped with straw curtains.
This was to prevent any rescue attempts. Without knowing whether it was a trap, would-be rescuers would hesitate to reveal themselves, buying time for the execution.The prison cart halted before the execution platform. Just as two officers were about to lift the straw curtain covering it, a feathered arrow suddenly pierced through the snowy curtain with a sharp whistle—its target was none other than Ling Ziyue inside the cart! (To be continued...)
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