After passing through Baizhi Pass, it was the land of Daxia. Though it was already the depth of winter, Xianyang was located in the southwest where the climate remained mild. When Chu Qiao exited the pass, it was actually raining.
The pale blue distant mountains were shrouded in white misty rain, with the distant river winding like a chain across the landscape. The twilight over the wilderness was exceptionally beautiful - the dark gold sun was slowly sinking, casting golden light upon the earth, while the cold moon had already begun its faint ascent. Lush wild grass swayed high, reaching the height of horseback, and when the strong wind blew, one could glimpse the undulating grass resembling golden ripples, surging wave after wave from the vast horizon.
Standing on the official road outside Xianyang City, she suddenly hesitated, unsure whether to enter. These eleven years of her life were like a torrential painting - the first eight years were like the dark reflection of a cold moon penetrating ice beneath water waves, while the last three years were marked by bloody, ferocious strokes of a blade. Now that she had suddenly cast off the shackles of fate, she didn't know where to go.
The initial excitement gradually faded, and her cooling reason clashed fiercely in her mind. If it were true, what status did he hold now? How could someone like him have any connection with someone like her? She had already nearly caused his death several times - should she now personally destroy everything before her eyes? And if everything she thought was wrong, if what Li Ce said was merely Yan Xun showing mercy by letting her go, then how should she face this?
Now, she didn't even have the courage to open her mouth and ask.
Thus she settled in Xianyang City, renting a small house with its own courtyard in a remote area. Two weeping willows stood before the gate, now bare and withered yellow.
Seven or eight days passed in the blink of an eye, and the New Year arrived. Xianyang City was decorated with lanterns and streamers, filled with festive atmosphere. The landlord next door, seeing her as a young woman living alone, invited her several times to celebrate the New Year together, but she politely declined each time.
Three more days passed, and the annual Lantern Festival arrived. A light snow fell in the morning, though the snowflakes melted before touching the ground. However, a thin layer accumulated on the tree branches. Looking into the distance, the mountain peaks appeared white and vast, with green waters flowing gently below the mountains. The city was shaded by phoenix trees everywhere, creating a scene of lakes and mountains.
The landlord was a plump woman in her thirties with a very kind appearance. She had two children, and her husband was a teacher at a private school in the city, making them a relatively well-off family. The girl seemed to like Chu Qiao very much, craning her neck to look inside every day when passing by. Her brother, seeing her curiosity, would sometimes lift her up to peek over the blue wall.
In the evening, afraid that the landlord might invite her for dinner again, Chu Qiao went out on her own.
Though it wasn't dark yet and the lantern market hadn't opened, the streets were already bustling with activity. Crowds were everywhere, with various snack stalls lining the main street. Vendors selling warm wine, tobacco, cosmetics, and toys packed Xianyang's main thoroughfare. Finding it too crowded, Chu Qiao moved slightly away.
Because of the festival, ladies and young misses from wealthy families who usually stayed indoors came out in droves. Sedan chairs, soft carriages, and horse-drawn carts carried by several people could be seen everywhere on the streets, passing by Chu Qiao one after another. Occasionally, laughter would drift from them, blending with the warm breeze from the distant lake, creating an atmosphere of peace and tranquility.Compared to the dazzling array of red and green finery, Chu Qiao was dressed quite simply. Yet, as garments from the Biantang imperial palace, they were still far more exquisite and refined than common folk attire. Her pale pink cloud-gauze thin robe and light blue-white long silk skirt were embroidered with faint jade magnolia blossoms in the subtlest of silk threads. From a distance, she resembled a fresh, newly blooming lotus. Coupled with her calm and gentle demeanor, she walked alone on the secluded plane tree-lined street, drawing the attention of every passing scholar and young nobleman. Occasionally, some would approach intending to strike up a conversation, but upon reaching her, they would hesitate, sensing her cool and detached aura—not the affected reserve of ordinary women, but a genuine indifference to the bustling crowd around her. After a moment's hesitation, she would already be far ahead.
The sky gradually darkened, and twilight enveloped the world. Heaven bestowed a perfect full moon for the night, with sparse stars dotting the sky. The faint moonlight, filtered through the dense or sparse leaves, shattered into tiny specks of light that gently fell upon her shoulders.
This was not her first time in Xianyang City. Three years ago, she had led troops in fleeing Zhenhuang City, encountered the imperiled siblings Zhao Song and Zhao Chun'er along the way, and after escorting them, was pursued by Zhao Chun'er. It was here that she and Liang Shaoqing were captured and sold into slavery, eventually ending up in the Zhan residence, where she found Jing Zisu and her two sisters.
Time passed like flowing water, elusive and fleeting. Zhao Song had been missing for years without a trace; the once influential and opulent imperial prince had likely faded from the political struggles of Daxia due to his physical disabilities and hidden ailments. As for Zhao Chun'er, she had fallen into the mud, step by step descending into the filthy depths of the Nine Nether, now adrift and scattered, her whereabouts unknown. And Jing Zisu had returned to the yellow springs, becoming a wandering soul in this chaotic era, pitied by none.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Chu Qiao's lips, so subtle it vanished before reaching the edges of her face. It resembled a wisp of smoke, sorrowfully dissipating in the cold wind.
Perhaps only Liang Shaoqing could truly live a few carefree days in this world. Those who see too clearly are seldom happy.
In the distance, brilliant lights burst forth in a riot of red, green, gold, and dusky pink, creating a dazzling spectacle. The sounds of firecrackers, the joyful laughter of children, the calls of street vendors, and the charming banter of young women drifted over with the lakeside breeze. To her ears, they were like warm yet cold flames—bright and glowing but devoid of warmth, as if coming from another world.
The Lantern Festival—it had been so long.
She lifted her head and gazed into the distance, her eyes seemingly piercing through time, fixed on that very first day. A crimson pony, a child in white fur, holding a snow-white rabbit lantern, following behind that youth. When he turned around, his eyes held a cool, profound stillness. She had always thought it was a cold, ruthless cruelty—a chill devoid of warmth. His eyes were like mirrors, reflecting back any gaze with icy indifference, looking down upon the common masses from a lofty height with disdain.
But now, as she recalled that moment, she seemed to see clearly into the depths of his eyes, catching a glimpse of something eternal and profound hidden within those elegant, long-lashed orbs—suppressed and unable to burst forth.
If there had been no lanterns weaving through the crowd that day, if the children's firecrackers hadn't startled her pony, if she hadn't galloped out of the city and trudged through the snow with Yan Xun all night—would anything have been even slightly different?Perhaps not. Perhaps the hands that should remain clasped would still be clasped, the war blades that should be raised would still be raised, the vows that should be betrayed would still be betrayed. Everything would proceed according to the course set by the heavens, and no one could escape this cycle of fate.
But at the very least, if they had not been separated back then, her memories of that Lantern Festival involving him would not consist only of a blurred silhouette and the warm glow of a single lantern.
Unconsciously, she had wandered quite far. A large, thick elm tree stood tall by the lakeside, likely thirty or forty years old, its branches entwined with red ribbons and colorful paper cuttings. This was a superstition among the rural folk—they believed that deities resided within elm trees, and the older and sturdier the tree, the more divine it became. Over time, people facing hardships would come here to kneel and pray, seeking resolution for their troubles and safety for their loved ones.
Chu Qiao stood beneath the tree, an inexplicable emotion rising in her heart. She did not know what was on the tree but simply gazed upward quietly, her eyes half-closed, devoid of joy or sorrow. Her vision seemed to pierce through the dust-covered years, like a clear, tranquil lake.
She was unaware that three years ago, on the day she was bought by the Zhan family at this very spot, another person had passed by on horseback. That day, the sunlight was pale, his robes fluttered in the breeze, and he stood silently beneath the tree, missing her by a hair's breadth.
Reaching into her bosom, she found only a jade pendant. Holding it, Chu Qiao suddenly lost herself in thought.
This was the pendant she had snatched from Zhuge Yue during their nighttime skirmish at City Guard Tian’s residence in Wupeng City. Later, when he discovered her disguised as a household courtesan, he had demanded it back. Still resentful at the time, she claimed she had casually tossed it into the lake on the estate. This prompted the servants of City Guard Tian’s residence to labor all night, dredging the lake and diverting water, only to return empty-handed.
On the day she left Yanbei, she had taken nothing with her, save for this jade pendant, as if guided by some unseen force.
Time flashed by, memories pressing against her heart like a piece of cold jade. Tilting her head upward, she was met with a wave of sorrow as fluid as water.
Round and round, it was always the face of a departed one. Even if the mountains and rivers remained unchanged, the years twisted and turned, and life and death did not separate them, the tangled enmity of family and nation still stood between them. Moreover, with her body and soul in such a state, what right or courage did she have to draw near?
Closing her eyes, she swung her arm and tossed the jade pendant upward. Though it was merely an instant, countless thoughts flooded her mind. Toyed with by fate, she and he were ultimately nothing to each other.
As she turned to leave, a crisp ding sounded behind her, like slender fingers gently plucking the strings of an ancient zither—a lingering, melodious note that instantly pierced the labyrinth of her spine. Startled, she looked back and saw two gleaming jade lights falling from the elm tree, landing perfectly, one in each of her hands.
They were translucent and pure, warm and smooth, identical in both style and quality—a pair of twin jade pendants.
Chu Qiao froze abruptly, her heart boiling with turmoil. Surging thoughts climbed from her spine into her chest, a bitter lump stuck in her throat, scalding like molten rock. The slightest crack would unleash a torrent. She closed her eyes, mustering all her strength to swallow back that pang of sorrow.Vaguely, her thoughts drifted back, weaving that faint, ink-wash landscape of a figure from scattered memories. That person, robes fluttering, with refined brows and solemn eyes—what thoughts had stirred him to toss that jade pendant before turning his horse and departing step by step from this tree laden with wishes for Ping An’s blessings?
Her eyes stung, yet no tears fell. She stood silently, unaware of how much time had passed. Rows of lanterns eventually brightened the area, and countless flower boats drifted across the lake. Children laughed and darted past her, but she seemed oblivious. Only when a lantern vendor passed by did she suddenly snap back to awareness.
The colorful lantern remained, its expression amiable, almost as if it were the very one she had once owned. She gazed at it quietly, nearly unable to look away. The vendor grew impatient, frowning as he asked, “Miss, have you made up your mind yet?”
Flustered, she paid and took the lantern, standing on the road with a frail silhouette, like a lost child.
The crowd gradually swelled, and she drifted along with them, surrounded by warm, joyous laughter and the clamor of gongs and drums. A wealthy family was setting off fireworks, painting the sky in a riot of colors like a rising tide. Scents filled the air—the strong aroma of wine, the rich smell of roasting meat, the perfumed fragrance of young noblewomen passing by, and the delicate scent of budding winter plum blossoms. Some reveled with lanterns, others guessed riddles, some drank, some ate, some watched acrobatics, and some sang songs. That night, everything seemed to come alive, happiness echoing wantonly around her. Her eyes fixed ahead, she walked alone in silence, carefully holding her lantern to avoid damage.
The flickering lantern light cast upon her face, making her appear frail, her solitary figure starkly out of place amid the surrounding bustle.
Some noticed her; others did not. She walked on quietly, traversing countless gazes and indifference, moving forward alone, yet unsure of her destination.
Finally, the candle gradually burned out, leaving only a faint glow. She reached the lakeside, carefully cradling the lantern. The emerald-green water soaked the hem of her skirt, but she paid it no mind. Willow branches on the shore brushed against her face with their withered, yellow tendrils, tickling and tangling like the gentle sweep of fate’s chains upon her shoulders.
Zhuge Yue, I will owe you for this lifetime. If possible, let us meet earlier in the next, at the right time.
With a gentle push of her pale fingers, the rabbit lantern drifted away. The lake rippled, and the lantern, like a tiny boat, floated lightly, gradually merging into the funeral night upon the sparkling water, swaying with each wave.
Chu Qiao stood up, watching intently. The night wind brushed her face, a shivering cold like an arrow gliding lightly through her heart. The world was a kaleidoscope of colors, a pane of stained glass, yet her heart resembled that drifting lantern—its light flickering, on the verge of extinguishing. She had made that decision, crushing her own sliver of hope with her own hands. The world crumbled silently in her grasp; carved beams and painted pillars decayed to dust, pearls and brocades dried to barren ground. Vitality had long abandoned her, leaving only vast, desolate gray and endless gloom.Suddenly, a fine spray of water surged toward the small lantern as a dragon boat's lead flower boat sailed ahead. The splashes from the oars drenched the lantern, causing its flame to flicker and nearly extinguish. The lantern tilted sideways, on the verge of sinking into the water.
For some reason, Chu Qiao's already cold and numb heart tightened abruptly. Unconsciously, she took a step forward, her brow slightly furrowed as if worried about the little lantern drifting with the current.
Just then, a slightly larger flower lantern floated over. The silk threads at its top tangled with those of Chu Qiao's lantern, causing them to spin in place a few times. Unexpectedly, this saved the smaller lantern from its impending submersion, shielding it from most of the splashes from the flower boat. The larger lantern guided the smaller one toward a quieter area of the water. Both lanterns bore the same snow-white jade rabbit pattern—one large, one small—nestled together in an unexpectedly warm and harmonious way. With the larger lantern's protection, the smaller one's flame brightened again, gradually glowing warmly and illuminating the surrounding water.
Chu Qiao let out a soft sigh of relief. Though it would eventually go out, it was good to see it shine a little longer.
She slowly relaxed her furrowed brow and exhaled lightly. As she inadvertently lifted her gaze, a figure that had long lingered in her dreams appeared vividly on the other side of the emerald lake!
She stood frozen, as if struck by lightning. It seemed she was seeing him again, just as elegant and graceful as in the past. Dressed in a simple white robe with a light silk cloak, his ink-black hair half-concealed his face. His lips were like touched vermilion, and his eyes were as cold and deep as a wintry lake. With just a quiet glance, he eclipsed the most brilliant lights in her world.
The dragon boats passed noisily across the lake, their shadowy forms intermittently blocking their view. Bright red silks and joyous crowds adorned the night. Through the sparse gaps, their eyes finally met across what felt like countless obstacles. In that instant, time seemed to reverse, and memories of his serene, lonely eyes from the cold pond overlapped with the solitary man standing silently before her—like a shadow, an illusion, a flower, a mist.
He, too, gazed quietly at her, holding a lantern pole just as she did. His distant gaze pierced through the passage of time, joys and sorrows, shifting from shock to a complex, inscrutable emotion before finally settling and freezing in that moment of dazzling lights.
Suddenly, thousands of brilliant fireworks ignited behind them, their bright flames illuminating their intertwined gazes.
Chu Qiao looked at him, her expression unlike any he had ever seen—so indescribable it left him at a loss for words. It was like a desert traveler gazing at a mirage, or an abandoned child dreaming of home from afar. It held the disbelief of an illusion, yet she couldn't bear to look away—yearning, yet knowing it was forever out of reach. It was the hope of over six hundred nights, shattered the moment dawn arrived.
Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. The corners of her vermilion lips trembled, gradually curving into a fragile, winding smile that seemed on the verge of breaking yet ultimately settled into a gentle arc. Before the smile could reach her eyes, two clear trails of tears streamed down, tracing the trembling curve of her lips and rolling down her delicate face. Between her brows, relief and the bittersweet weight of time gathered like a poignant blend of joy and sorrow.The dragon boats dispersed, and she suddenly broke into a frantic run. All her life, she had been evading, retreating, distancing, and refusing. Yet after surviving countless brushes with death, she was suddenly overwhelmed by a panicked collapse. Could it be just an illusion, a fleeting play of light and shadow that would shatter and scatter like a broken dream at the slightest touch?
The girl ran so urgently that passersby cast her strange glances along the way, but she paid them no mind. Her robes fluttered like distant, pale lotuses as she sprinted. Her knees felt weak, and her ears roared. She crossed the lake embankment, passed through the plum grove, traversed the stone bridge, and brushed past the willow branches, finally stopping breathlessly, only to feel as though everything had ended like fading clouds—unreal and unsettling.
Zhuge Yue still watched her, his eyes serene and lonely. In their intertwined gazes, a hidden trace of pity flickered.
A bustling crowd suddenly arrived, surging toward them in a lively commotion.
Chu Qiao was suddenly seized by a fear unlike any she had known—unlike the fear of death or displacement. Throughout her life, she had remained strong and resolute, yet in over a decade, only twice had she felt such terror. The first was the moment he fell into the deep lake, and the second was now.
Recklessly, she reached out and clutched the hem of his robe tightly, refusing to let go no matter how the crowd jostled around them.
Suddenly, warmth enveloped the back of her hand as a hand firmly grasped hers.
Amid the scattered lantern lights, she leaned toward him. He used his arms to carve out a quiet space for her. Shadows shifted around them, and ripples spread across the water. She was so close to him that she could almost smell his breath. Her dark eyes fixed on him, as if trying to bore two holes into his face.
Tears welled up, and though she struggled to remain composed, she couldn’t help but raise a trembling hand, as if to gently trace his form.
These were his brows—slender, slightly upturned, yet never truly aloof or detached from the world. These were his eyes—cold and solitary, yet never abandoning her to peril without a second glance. This was his mouth—sparing with words and sharp-tongued, yet never as arrogant and indifferent as he appeared.
The answer she had long sought was right before her, yet her knees felt weak, her body powerless. A stifled sound escaped her throat, and her legs gave way as she slumped to one side.
He swiftly caught her by the waist. The moment their bodies touched, it felt as though vast stretches of time and hardship had passed between them. The sobs she had long suppressed could no longer be contained and finally burst forth. He held her close, and her tears fell onto his chest, soaking his robes and seeping layer by layer into his heart.
"Why did you lie to me? Why didn’t you come to see me? I thought you were dead—"
She sobbed, her body trembling slightly, repeating over and over, "I thought you were dead—"
Zhuge Yue pressed his lips together tightly, saying nothing. He had traveled a thousand miles not to see her, but merely to be closer to her within the bounds of not disturbing her life.
And the ancient city of Xianyang was the last city in Daxia’s territory near Biantang.
He opened his mouth several times, unsure how to face her in such a state. Almost flustered, he suppressed the tumultuous, complex thoughts swirling within him. Gently patting her back, he maintained his usual demeanor with a clear voice, feigning impatience as he said, "Stop crying. I’m not dead yet."
"If you’re not dead, why didn’t you come find me!"Chu Qiao shoved him away, her eyes brimming with tears as she sobbed, "Couldn't you have sent a letter?"
She had never cried like this in front of him before, seeming so unsteady on her feet. Suddenly, all his past hardships—the life-and-death struggles, the desperate flights from pursuers, the times he had narrowly escaped death over the past two years—faded like distant clouds, rendered utterly insignificant.
He stretched out his hand and commanded imperiously, "Come here."
Wiping her tears, for the first time in her life, she no longer wanted to oppose him. She threw herself into his arms, weeping and scolding, "You madman!"
Mountains and rivers stood between them, national enmity and personal grudges barred the way. Having crossed the boundary between life and death, she turned abruptly—and there he was, in the dimming light of the lanterns.
It took me a whole day to write less than six thousand words—so obscure and arduous, my heart is heavy with melancholy. May all lovers in the world be united in marriage.
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