Legend of the Female General

Chapter 125: The Moon (Part 1)

The Mid-Autumn Festival of the sixty-second year of Qingyuan was the coldest Mid-Autumn Festival in Great Wei.

It had been raining since morning, with dark clouds looming heavily. Judging by the momentum, it seemed the rain would continue unabated for the entire day.

The Lotus Snow Mountain was a chaotic landscape of jagged peaks, each vying for prominence. Due to the rain, mist enveloped the surroundings, making the mountain paths treacherous.

A carriage slowly made its way along the mountain trail.

Despite the difficult terrain, Lotus Snow Mountain remained bustling year-round, all because of a Spirit Temple on the mountain called Jade Splendor Temple. The temple was extremely popular, and it was said that those who prayed here would have their wishes granted. This claim was somewhat exaggerated, but Jade Splendor Temple had existed for over a hundred years, making it a truly ancient temple. The nobles and officials of Shuojing were always willing to come here during festivals to pray and chant sutras, seeking peace, health, and prosperity for their families.

The carriage curtain was lifted, and Bai Rongwei, the wife of the eldest son of the Xiao family, glanced outside and said softly, "We’re almost there. In less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, we’ll reach Jade Splendor Temple."

"Are you hungry?" Xiao Jing asked gently beside her.

Bai Rongwei shook her head and looked back at the carriage following them, her expression tinged with worry. "Huai Jin..."

Xiao Jing sighed softly but said nothing.

Everyone in the Xiao family knew that Second Young Master Xiao disliked Mid-Autumn Festival—even hated it.

Back when Xiao Zhongwu died on the battlefield, Mid-Autumn Festival was just around the corner. Had he been alive, he would have returned to celebrate the family feast with his loved ones. Unfortunately, before the festival arrived, he perished in the Battle of Ming River. The Xiao family’s Mid-Autumn feast, halfway prepared, came to an abrupt halt.

It never resumed.

Since the passing of the Xiao couple, Xiao Jue had never spent Mid-Autumn Festival in Shuojing. This year was the first time he had stayed in Shuojing for the festival since taking command of the Southern Garrison Troops. Following the tradition established by Madam Xiao during her lifetime, the Xiao family would ascend Lotus Snow Mountain to burn incense and pray at Jade Splendor Temple on Mid-Autumn Festival.

However, no one had anticipated such dreadful weather today—not a trace of sunlight, with rain pouring ceaselessly.

Just as Bai Rongwei had predicted, within the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the temple gates of Jade Splendor Temple came into view. A monk, wearing a rain hat, was sweeping fallen leaves from the ground. Seeing the Xiao family’s carriage arrive, he set aside his broom and welcomed them into the temple.

Due to the rain and the treacherous mountain paths, Jade Splendor Temple would typically be bustling at this time of year. Today, however, aside from the Xiao family’s carriage, only one other carriage was parked outside the temple gates, its occupants unknown—perhaps a lady or young miss from another family.

Xiao Jue followed them inside.

The sky was dark and gloomy. Though it was still afternoon, it felt as if evening had already descended. Following the temple monks, they first partook in a vegetarian meal before proceeding to the prayer hall to burn incense and offer prayers.

Bai Rongwei and Xiao Jing entered first. When it was Xiao Jue’s turn, a monk in blue robes extended his hand to stop him, saying, "Esteemed benefactor, you may not enter."

Bai Rongwei and Xiao Jing, who were ahead, turned around. Bai Rongwei asked, "Why not? This is my younger brother. We came up the mountain together to pray."

The blue-robed monk pressed his palms together and bowed to her. Turning to Xiao Jue, he lowered his gaze and said, "Esteemed benefactor, your sins of killing are too heavy. This is a place of purity and tranquility. It does not welcome those whose hearts are stained with blood."

The group was taken aback.

Sins of killing too heavy.

In the battle of Guo City Long Valley, sixty thousand people drowned—was that not a heavy sin of killing? Over the years, countless Southern Barbarians had died by his hands. Indeed, his heart was stained with blood.

"Master," Bai Rongwei said anxiously, "the Buddha saves all beings. How can distinctions of high or low, noble or humble, be made?""Though his hands are stained with blood, he has also saved many lives." Xiao Jing frowned. "Master, your words are rather one-sided."

The blue-robed monk lowered his gaze and remained silent.

"Please be more lenient, Master," Bai Rongwei pleaded. "Our Xiao family is willing to donate more incense money, as long as you allow my brother to enter the hall and pay his respects."

"No need." A voice interrupted her.

The young man in brocade robes raised his eyes, his gaze falling upon the hall. Inside, golden statues of Buddhas sat cross-legged—there were fierce-eyed Vajras, as well as serene Vairocana Buddhas. From above and below, from far and near, they looked down upon him with compassion.

The chanting of sutras lingered, the sea of suffering boundless, yet the Buddha offered no salvation.

He should have expected this outcome long ago.

"He cannot save me." Xiao Jue curled his lips. "Nor do I wish to turn back."

To sink into this abyss might not be so bad after all.

He turned and walked out. "I'll wait for you outside."

Behind him came the calls of Bai Rongwei and Xiao Jing. He frowned impatiently, turning away and leaving everything behind.

He did not know that after he left, the blue-robed monk chanted a Buddhist invocation and murmured softly, "It may not be without cause."

...

Due to the rain, the path down the mountain was even more slippery than the ascent. The sky had darkened, and descending after the prayers would have been unwise. They had no choice but to stay overnight at Jade Splendor Temple.

Spending the Mid-Autumn Festival night away from home was an unavoidable circumstance. After the monks arranged rooms for Bai Rongwei and the others and withdrew, Bai Rongwei sighed. On the table lay mooncakes specially made by Jade Splendor Temple. She said to Xiao Jing, "Go and call Huaijin over. We'll make do with a Mid-Autumn feast here."

Xiao Jing went to knock on the door of the neighboring room. After a long while with no response, he pushed the door open to find the room empty.

Xiao Jue was not inside.

He looked toward the temple courtyard. The rain had washed the stone slabs clean. In such weather, where could Xiao Jue have gone?

In the backyard of Jade Splendor Temple stood an ancient tree, which had been there since the temple's founding, its age unknown but likely centuries old. The ancient tree was said to possess a spirit, with lush, flourishing branches. Devotees who came to offer incense called it the "Immortal Tree." The tree was hung with red silk ribbons—some praying for success in imperial examinations, others for happiness and reunion. The red threads covered the branches in layers. When it rained, with no shelter overhead, the wish-bearing strips were soaked and clung to the branches, as if draped in a veil of red silk.

The young man holding an umbrella paused.

A red cloth had fallen to the ground, still adorned with a yellow tassel. Likely, the heavy rain had blown this red ribbon down.

Xiao Jue hesitated for a moment, then bent down to pick it up.

Each red ribbon bore the wish of the person who had hung it. He lowered his head to look. The left side had been soaked by the rain, the ink blurred and illegible. On the right, one character remained visible—the handwriting crooked and messy, as if scribbled by a three-year-old child. It read: "See."

See?

See what? How strange. Being tall, he casually retied this peculiar red ribbon to the tree, deliberately choosing a spot deep within the thickest foliage so it would be less likely to get wet from the rain.

Having done this, he picked up the umbrella he had set aside. The sachet at his waist was exposed by his earlier movement, and he froze.The sachet was already very old, a dark green pouch embroidered with a black python in gold thread, majestic and agile, exquisite and ornate. But perhaps too much time had passed—the stitches had worn faint, and the python’s pattern was no longer as clear as before. Inside, it lay flat and empty, as if nothing were stored within.

His fingertips brushed over the sachet, and something in his eyes sank.

The youths of Virtuous Prosperity Academy all knew that since his youth, Xiao Jue had carried a sachet with him at all times. Mischievous ones like Lin Shuanghe had long been curious about what treasure it held. Later, seizing an opportunity, they snatched it away and opened it, only to find it filled to the brim with osmanthus candy.

At the time, Second Young Master Xiao was thoroughly mocked for it—such a sweet tooth, even carrying candy with him to school.

Little did they know, this sachet had been made for him by Madam Xiao herself while she was still alive.

After Madam Xiao’s death, he still carried this sachet, but it was no longer stuffed full of candy. Instead, it held only one… old, darkened, inedible piece of osmanthus candy.

At fifteen, Xiao Jue descended the mountain and entered Virtuous Prosperity Academy. Having studied everything necessary during his early years on the mountain, he could memorize his lessons at a glance. He slept through classes all day, often effortlessly taking first place. The teachers adored him, his classmates envied him, and to outsiders, it seemed as though he must have accumulated immense virtue in a past life to be reborn with such fortune.

But Xiao Zhongwu treated him with extreme severity.

Born lazy and indolent, Xiao Jue had been largely unconstrained on the mountain, with only his teachers to oversee him, and Xiao Zhongwu unable to see him. After descending the mountain, his classmates often invited him to banquets one day and opera houses the next. As a young man of fourteen or fifteen, it was only natural to accept. Though most of the time, he merely lounged lazily on the sidelines or simply slept, in Xiao Zhongwu’s eyes, this was a sign of a son content with degeneracy, idle and aimless.

Xiao Zhongwu reprimanded him, invoked family discipline, confiscated his monthly allowance, and punished him with copying texts and martial arts training.

Xiao Jue complied with each demand, but the rebelliousness of youth was etched into his bones—how could he truly submit? The more calmly and indifferently he accepted punishment, the more infuriated Xiao Zhongwu became. Eventually, they had a fierce argument.

Xiao Jue raised an eyebrow. “I’ve done everything you asked. If only the result matters, then the result is already here. Father, what are you still fussing about?”

The mocking smile on the young man’s lips made Xiao Zhongwu’s hand, clutching a whip, tremble, unable to strike. Xiao Jue chuckled lightly and turned to leave.

That was the last time he saw Xiao Zhongwu alive.

The next day, Xiao Zhongwu led troops to the Southern Barbarians. Not long after, he died in the Battle of Ming River, his death gruesome and tragic.

When the coffin was transported back to the capital and the news arrived, Madam Xiao was in the kitchen making osmanthus candy for Xiao Jue. Upon hearing the news, the entire tray of candy overturned, scattering across the floor and gathering dust.

A trusted aide who had narrowly survived knelt before Madam Xiao, weeping as he spoke: “We originally planned to cross Ming River two days earlier, but the General said that Fu Pass near Ming River was renowned for its ironwork. He wanted to forge a sword for the Second Young Master. Before departing, he argued with the Second Young Master and hurt his feelings. He hoped this sword would make the Second Young Master understand his intentions. Who could have imagined… who could have imagined…”

The room echoed with Madam Xiao’s heart-wrenching sobs.She threw herself at him, striking Xiao Jue wildly with her fists as she cried and cursed, "Why did you have to provoke him? Why! If you hadn't argued with him, he wouldn't have stayed longer in Singing Water, wouldn't have fallen into an ambush, and wouldn't have died!"

He endured the terrible accusations, letting the woman's weak fists rain down on him without uttering a word.

How could it be? His father—that stern, unyielding man who wielded a whip without mercy, who left a young child on an unfamiliar mountain and visited only once a year—how could he be dead? A man so cold and ruthless, yet so devoted to righteousness—how could he die?

The terrible accusations continued.

"You killed him! You killed your father!"

Unable to bear it any longer, he pushed his mother away. "No, I didn't! It wasn't me!"

The woman stumbled back, staring at him blankly. Unable to face her despairing expression, Xiao Jue turned and ran.

He didn't know where to go or whom to turn to. It had only been a year since he descended the mountain and returned to Shuojing. In that year, he hadn't even learned all the faces in Xiao Manor, let alone how to interact naturally with his family.

And now... it had come to this.

When pain reaches its peak, tears don't flow. At that moment, he didn't feel pain—only numbness. It was like hearing a joke that couldn't possibly be true, unsure how to react. His feet felt heavy, and he couldn't bring himself to step forward, unable to face his mother's desperate, piercing gaze.

Years later, Xiao Jue would often wonder: if he hadn't been so cowardly back then, if he had taken a step forward and returned to the room, would everything that followed have been different?

But there were no "ifs."

By the time he returned, it was already evening. Xiao Jing and Bai Rongwei had come back, their eyes red and swollen as if they had been crying. The usually gentle and polite Xiao Jing rushed forward and punched him, grabbing his collar and shouting with reddened eyes, "Where have you been? Why weren't you at the manor? Why weren't you by Mother's side?"

A wave of disgust and self-mockery suddenly washed over him. He curled his lips into a faint, bitter smile. "We're both her sons. Why ask me? Why not ask yourself?"

"You—!"

"Huajin," Bai Rongwei sobbed, "Mother is gone."

His smile froze.

"Mother... is gone." Xiao Jing released his grip, took two steps back, and covered his face, choking back sobs.

Madam Xiao had lived her life as delicately as a flower untouched by wind or rain. While Xiao Zhongwu was alive, she often expressed dissatisfaction with him, quarreling every few days like a resentful couple. But when Xiao Zhongwu died, the flower withered abruptly, deprived of nourishment, and followed him into death.

She left so decisively, without even considering what would become of the two sons she left behind in Shuojing, or what would happen to the Xiao family. Her life lost all meaning the moment she lost Xiao Zhongwu, so she ended it with a piece of pure white silk.

The last words she said to Xiao Jue before her death were: "You killed him! You killed your father!"

These words would become an eternal nightmare, haunting Xiao Jue for years to come, often jolting him awake in the dead of night, leaving him tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

He would never be able to escape them.

Xiao Zhongwu and Madam Xiao were buried together. The lanterns and decorations prepared for the Mid-Autumn Festival just days earlier were all taken down and replaced with snow-white lanterns.When the wall collapses, everyone pushes it. The death of Xiao Zhongwu dealt a blow to the Xiao family far beyond that. As many open and hidden attacks Xiao Jing endured in the court, Xiao Jue bore the same burden behind the scenes. The state of the Southern Garrison Troops, the fate of the Xiao family, the baseless accusations from the Battle of Ming River—all weighed on him.

He still did not shed a single tear, mechanically handling affairs and making dense arrangements. The hours he could sleep grew shorter, and the days he returned home grew later.

That night, very late, Xiao Jue returned to the mansion. After Xiao Zhongwu’s death, many servants had been dismissed. Apart from his personal guards, he needed no attendants. Only when hunger struck did he realize he had not eaten all day.

It was too late to trouble Bai Rongwei, so Xiao Jue walked to the kitchen himself to see if there were any leftovers from the day to make do with.

The stove was cold, and there was little food in the kitchen. Everyone had been too busy these days to think of eating. He found two steamed buns and a bowl of pickles.

The lamplight flickered weakly, as if about to go out. There were no stools in the kitchen, so the weary young man casually found a corner by the wall to sit down. As he picked up the bowl, he suddenly caught sight of a piece of osmanthus candy lying at the far end of the long table, in the corner of the wall.

When the news of Xiao Zhongwu’s death in battle arrived, Madam Xiao had been making osmanthus candy for Xiao Jue. Startled by the news, she overturned the entire tray, and the candies were later swept away by the servants, all gone.

Yet here was one that had escaped, lying quietly in the corner, covered in dust.

He crawled over, carefully picked up the osmanthus candy, and brushed off the dust. The faint scent of osmanthus wafted from the candy, as cloyingly sweet as ever.

Madam Xiao always made the osmanthus candy overly sweet, sickeningly so. He had never been fond of sweets.

But this was the last piece of candy he would ever receive in this world.

There were still some candy wrappers left in the sachet. He wrapped the candy carefully and placed it back inside. Then he picked up the bowl and the steamed buns.

Second Young Master Xiao had always been noble and refined, fastidious about cleanliness. Yet now, he sat on the ground to eat, disregarding all decorum. His clothes had not been changed for two days, and his stomach had been empty for just as long. Gone was the radiant elegance of his days in brocade robes and fox furs.

Leaning against the wall, the young man tilted his head back, slowly chewing on the steamed bun. As he ate, a self-mocking smile touched his lips. In his autumn-water-like eyes, a faint glimmer of light flickered, like the last embers of starlight in a long night.

It vanished in an instant.

…

Time flew by, leaving no trace. The past seemed like a memory from a previous life. Those complex emotions intertwined, finally turning into a careless smile at the corner of his lips.

It was not an insurmountable obstacle.

He stared blankly at the sachet in his hand, lost in thought. After a moment, he let go and continued walking forward.

"Young Master." Fei Nu approached from behind. He took the umbrella and held it for Xiao Jue, asking, "Shall we return to the temple now?"

"Let’s walk for a while," Xiao Jue said. "To clear my mind."

The last trace of light faded, and Lotus Snow Mountain was completely engulfed in darkness. Dense fog spread like an illusion in the mountains. On such a night, almost no one would venture out.

Raindrops fell along the edge of the umbrella, not heavy but steady and dense, like a layer of cool, thin gauze enveloping the mountain.

"I wonder when this rain will stop," Fei Nu murmured.

Mid-Autumn nights were usually clear; one like this was truly rare. Xiao Jue looked up into the heavy, endless darkness.

"There is no moon tonight," he said.

No moon to shine upon a reunion.The mountain forest path was muddy and treacherous, with nothing audible but the sound of rain. The further they walked toward the edge, the denser the trees became, obscuring any human figures. Suddenly, a rustling sound came from ahead. Fei Nu paused and warned, "Young Master."

Xiao Jue shook his head, indicating he had heard it.

Who could be out here so late in the pouring rain?

Fei Nu extended the lantern in his hand forward. Through the heavy rain, a figure stood beneath a tree. At first, only a blurry silhouette was visible—likely a woman, though it was unclear what she was doing. After taking two steps closer, they saw the woman standing on a rock, gripping something long with both hands and pulling it downward.

Tied to the tree was a strip of white silk.

This was a woman seeking death.

(End of Chapter)