Love Beyond the Grave

——Why all the maidens in the Southern Capital fancy my third brother, you’ll understand once you see him.

Duan Jingyuan’s words rang true. The polo field was Duan Xu’s domain, where he moved like a fish in water, effortlessly stirring hearts. Whenever he was on the field, even if he wasn’t the one striking the ball, no one could tear their eyes away from him. His purple-clad figure atop the white horse was like a streak of lightning.

He drew the opposing team’s defense toward himself, then passed the ball to a teammate who scored the first point. By the second round, the opponents no longer dared to focus solely on him, giving Duan Xu free rein. In no time, he secured the second point.

The sidelines erupted in cheers once more, and He Simu joined the jubilant crowd, applauding for him.

After losing two points in a row, the opposing team grew visibly flustered, eager to suppress Duan Xu’s momentum. One young master swung his mallet with excessive force, sending the ball astray from its intended path—it struck his own teammate’s horse squarely on the head. The horse, startled by the sudden blow, reared and bolted uncontrollably across the field.

For the sake of speed and endurance, polo horses were invariably spirited steeds, difficult to calm once spooked. It was not uncommon for riders to suffer severe injuries—or even death—from falls on the polo field. Now, the young master Gu teetered precariously on his horse, half his body flung outward while his foot remained tangled in the stirrup. In moments, he would be dragged along the ground.

Duan Xu spurred his horse forward, extending his mallet to hook Gu’s back while simultaneously drawing a dagger from his boot and slicing through the stirrup. Grabbing Gu by the collar, he hauled him onto his own horse, sparing him the ordeal of being dragged. Gu clung to Duan Xu’s back, gasping for breath, his heart still pounding from the close call.

Meanwhile, the riderless horse continued its frenzied charge, smashing through the field’s barrier and barreling straight toward the spectators. The crowd scattered in panic. Duan Jingyuan, weighed down by her elaborate attire, stumbled over her own skirts in her haste and fell to the ground. As she looked up, the wild horse bore down on her. Her face drained of color, frozen in shock—when suddenly, a figure in slate-blue robes appeared before her, shielding the back of her head and pulling her into an embrace. In her daze, she caught a glimpse of fluttering crimson fabric.

That flash of red belonged to He Simu.

What felt like an eternity to Duan Jingyuan was but a fleeting moment—He Simu stood directly in the path of the charging horse.

The frenzied beast skidded to an abrupt halt, kicking up dust as it stopped just three feet from He Simu. Trembling, it stared into her eyes, then suddenly retreated three steps before collapsing to its knees.

Even without her Magical Power, the Ghost King’s presence was unmistakable—in this regard, animals were far more perceptive than humans.

Gasps filled the field as the spectators gaped at the scene. Stablehands quickly rushed in to lead the now-docile horse away.

Duan Jingyuan, spared from disaster, slowly regained her senses. She looked up—the sunlight was blinding, obscuring the face of the person who had shielded her, yet his presence felt strangely familiar. As he released her and stepped back, she recognized him—Fang Xianye, the scholar she had met that day while seeking shelter from the rain.

Clad in a slate-blue round-collared robe, his serene gaze was like mist over tranquil waters.

“Is your spine harder than a horse’s hooves? You’re just a scholar—don’t overestimate yourself,” He Simu said, turning to Fang Xianye.She walked past Fang Xianye and helped Duan Jingyuan up from the ground. Fang Xianye didn’t react to He Simu’s earlier words, merely glancing at her before turning his gaze to Duan Jingyuan and asking calmly, “Are you alright?”

Duan Jingyuan nodded blankly, clutching He Simu’s sleeve as she said, “Thank you, Lord Fang, for saving me.”

Fang Xianye shook his head, his expression indifferent, as if nothing had happened. He dusted himself off and walked away. As he did, Duan Jingyuan noticed his wrist was red and swollen—likely from scraping against the ground in the heat of the moment.

She hadn’t even realized Fang Xianye had been nearby. While everyone else was fleeing, he had rushed over immediately to shield her, nearly getting seriously injured in the process.

Were they really that close?

The polo match was suspended due to the sudden incident. Duan Jingyuan, though shaken, was unharmed, and her maid helped her back to her seat to rest. Wu Wanqing patted her back, still frightened, and said, “You scared me half to death! If anything had happened to you, how would I explain it to Father? No more watching from the sidelines—just stay seated here from now on!”

Duan Jingyuan pressed a hand to her chest, weakly arguing that it had just been an accident. Before Wu Wanqing could continue lecturing her, the bamboo curtain of their seating area was lifted, and a young man surnamed Wang stepped in, holding a white porcelain bottle.

This was none other than Wang Qi, the pleasure-seeking, irresponsible elder brother of Su Yi. Duan Jingyuan was a renowned beauty in the Southern Capital, and ever since the Wang and Duan families became in-laws, Wang Qi had frequently used this connection to visit the Duan residence, showering Duan Jingyuan with attention and hinting at furthering their familial ties.

Naturally, Duan Jingyuan had no regard for such a dissolute fool. But now, he had come bearing a calming pill, urging her to take it to soothe her nerves, all while putting on a show of kindness. She couldn’t outright reject him without causing offense.

Forcing a polite smile, Duan Jingyuan accepted the bottle. Wang Qi even took the opportunity to brush his fingers against the back of her hand, making her shudder in disgust.

“Thank you, Young Master Wang,” she said through gritted teeth.

Wang Qi seemed utterly oblivious to the revulsion hidden beneath her expression. To her dismay, he even sat down beside them, striking up a conversation with Duan Jingyuan as if they were old friends, all while clearly thinking himself charming and witty.

Duan Jingyuan exchanged a glance with Wu Wanqing—never had they met someone so shamelessly frivolous.

But the Wang and Duan families were still in-laws, and appearances had to be maintained. Duan Jingyuan responded to Wang Qi’s chatter with strained politeness, feeling as though even swallowing an entire bottle of calming pills wouldn’t ease her irritation—only deepen her disgust.

As she endured his presence, she caught a glimpse of a dark blue figure in the spectator stands below. When she turned her gaze, she locked eyes with Fang Xianye.

The polo match had resumed, and the crowd’s attention was fixed on the field. Yet there he stood, amidst the excited spectators, quietly looking back at her, his thoughts unreadable.

“Miss Duan?”

The noisy Wang Qi called out to her, noticing her distraction. Reluctantly, Duan Jingyuan turned her attention back to him. After another round of forced conversation, she stole another glance—only to find Fang Xianye was no longer there.

For some reason, she felt a pang of disappointment in that moment.Just as Wang Qi's incessant clamor was reaching its peak, a voice suddenly sounded from behind the bamboo curtain, like a cool breeze brushing against Duan Jingyuan's agitated heart.

"Miss Duan, it seems you dropped something when avoiding that spirited horse earlier. I picked it up and placed it by my seat. Would you check if you're missing anything? If so, I'll bring it to you."

Fang Xianye spoke from behind the bamboo curtain, bowing slightly in greeting.

Duan Jingyuan immediately stood up and walked over, lifting the curtain eagerly. "How could I trouble you, my lord? I'll retrieve it myself."

Anything to get away from Wang Qi—even approaching Fang Xianye was preferable. After all, Fang Xianye was exceptionally handsome and spoke little. Moreover... this man had just tried to save her.

Fang Xianye's gaze swept over the red-faced, glaring Young Master Wang before he smiled faintly. "As you wish, Miss."

Duan Jingyuan, accompanied by her maid, lifted her skirts and headed toward Fang Xianye's seat.

Wang Qi's expression stiffened, though it softened slightly when his eyes landed on He Simu. He groaned, "The Duan household truly has no shortage of beauties. Who might this fair lady be?"

He Simu withdrew her gaze from the scene and glanced at him before uttering succinctly, "Get lost."

"You—!" "Miss He!"

Wang Qi and Wu Wanqing's voices rang out simultaneously. Wang Qi slammed the table and stood up, but when He Simu ignored him, he shot Wu Wanqing a furious glare, muttered some sarcastic remarks, and stormed off in a huff. Wu Wanqing pressed her temples, exasperated.

Meanwhile, Duan Jingyuan followed Fang Xianye to his seat. His seating arrangement was simple yet elegant—naturally not as prestigious as the Duan family's, but the view was decent, befitting his high-ranking position as the top scholar despite his humble background.

Duan Jingyuan suddenly recalled the day the exam results were announced. Back then, she had declared that the man she married must at least be no worse than her third brother. In response, Duan Xu had pointed to the name at the top of the list and said—"If he can't be worse than your third brother, then he must be the top scholar. This Fang Xianye—will he do?"

That had been the first time she'd heard Fang Xianye's name.

For some reason, Duan Jingyuan felt her cheeks warm. Clearing her throat, she turned to Fang Xianye and asked, "Lord Fang, what did I drop?"

Fang Xianye shook his head. "That was a lie. I didn't see you drop anything—I just noticed your discomfort and thought you might need an excuse to leave."

Her heart skipped a beat, but she feigned composure. "What made you think I was uncomfortable?"

After a brief pause, Fang Xianye replied, "Weren't you about to cry?"

Seeing her puzzled expression, he pointed to the area beneath his own eyes. "Here."

Duan Jingyuan froze. She touched her eyes and finally understood. Indignant, she stepped closer to Fang Xianye and pointed at her own eyes. "Look carefully! This is the latest fashion—tear makeup! Tear makeup! I wasn't about to cry!"

Anyone who dared question her makeup, attire, or perfume was her sworn enemy!

Only after speaking did she realize how close they were. He studied her eyes intently, and just as her ears began to burn, Fang Xianye took a step back and smiled faintly. "If all is well, why paint yourself to look like you're crying? A smile is far better than tears."

"What do you know? This makeup creates a delicate, pitiful beauty," Duan Jingyuan huffed.Fang Xianye glanced at her and said, "I truly don't understand. I thought a radiant young lady like Miss Duan wouldn't need pity."

Duan Jingyuan was momentarily speechless at his words. She wanted to say she certainly didn't need pity, but saying so would seem contradictory. For a moment, she found herself at a loss for words.

"Will Miss Duan be returning now?" Fang Xianye straightened his robes as he sat properly in his seat, deftly changing the subject.

Duan Jingyuan stood on tiptoe to look around and noticed Young Master Wang was no longer at their seating area. After a brief hesitation, she cleared her throat and said, "Who knows if he might come back? I'll stay at your seat for a while."

Fang Xianye nodded calmly in agreement.

As Duan Jingyuan sat beside him, He Zhi promptly poured her tea. While sipping her tea, she noticed Fang Xianye's gaze lingering on her embroidered pouch. Recalling how he had risked his life to save her earlier on the field, she suddenly had an epiphany—could it be that Fang Xianye harbored feelings for her?

She said warily, "Lord Fang, I'm deeply grateful for your rescue on the field earlier. But... no matter how much you look at me, I won't give you my pouch."

In Great Liang, when a woman gave a man an embroidered pouch, it symbolized romantic affection.

Fang Xianye seemed amused as he replied, "No, I was just admiring the knot on your pouch. It's very well-made."

"It's a six-petal flower knot. My third brother taught me how to tie it." Pleased by the compliment, Duan Jingyuan became smug again—she often acted childishly about such things.

"I see."

Fang Xianye averted his gaze and turned his attention back to the field.

A few days earlier, Duan Xu had come to see him. After discussing official matters, he suddenly sighed and asked if Fang Xianye knew how to tie a six-petal flower knot.

—Jing Yuan says I taught her in Dài Province before, but she's forgotten now and insists I teach her again.

—Fang Ji, just how many things have you taught her?

Now she had learned it, and learned it well.

The summer field game, though marred by some mishaps, remained thrilling throughout the morning. As expected, Duan Xu's team was the first to score five points and win the match. What astonished everyone was that all five goals were scored by five different players—all first-time participants except Duan Xu. Those knowledgeable about the game remarked that Duan Xu's victory lay in his tactics. Even from the way he arranged his team on the field, one could see how much his strategic skills had improved after his time at the border.

Not long after the game ended, He Xiaoxiao bid farewell and left the Duan residence. Duan Jingyuan was surprised by her abrupt departure, and even more surprised by how unaffected Duan Xu and Chen Ying seemed. After all, Duan Xu had once acted as if he couldn't bear to be apart from He Xiaoxiao for even a moment. Yet now, he showed no sign of missing her at all—as if she had never left.

What's more, her brother had resumed his visits to Yù Zǎo Tower to see his beloved Luo Xian. Duan Jingyuan lamented sorrowfully that perhaps there wasn't a single good man in the world—not even her third brother.