That night, Zhuge Yue slept very late. As dawn approached, he leaned wearily on the soft couch, his consciousness drifting far away. Hazily, it felt as if he had returned to a nightmare, seeing things he had long forgotten.
In the Netherworld, he seemed to see countless streams of light swirling around him. The icy water pierced to the bone, as if his entire body were frozen solid.
A deathly pale hand gripped him, desperately pulling him forward through the water. Crimson blood gushed out, spreading in the icy currents.
Yue Jiu’s eyes were red-rimmed as he dragged him along, swimming with all his might. Sunlight filtered through the ice layer, casting a dim and eerie glow. Faintly, he heard noises from above—so loud, vibrating through the water and shaking his eardrums, overwhelming and crystal clear:
"Long live—Long live—Long live the Emperor—!"
He knew they thought he was dead. Those were the Yanbei soldiers paying homage to Yan Xun.
The sound surged like a tide, growing louder and louder. Beyond that noise, he could hear nothing else. He had been utterly defeated by another. From childhood to adulthood, he had never suffered such a miserable loss. Now, it seemed he would even lose his life here.
The sounds gradually faded. His body had long lost its warmth, his blood nearly drained, his limbs devoid of any strength.
Suddenly, a loud "bang!" struck his ears. He looked up and saw Yue Jiu frantically ramming upward—using his head, again and again, against the ice layer above.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The sound was like muffled thunder, pounding against his heart with each strike. Blood streamed down the young guard’s face, but it quickly dissolved in the water.
Yue Jiu’s face was paler than snow, his lips devoid of color, like a ghost freshly risen from the grave. He paddled fiercely, his limbs stiff, yet he kept repeating the motion—so forceful, once, again, and again…
Bang—bang—bang—
In that moment, it was as if a gap had been torn through layers of dark clouds, and a brilliant ray of sunlight pierced his heart. He abruptly awakened. This was his subordinate, who had entered his household at the age of four. All along, it had been taken for granted that they would die for him, and he had never seen anything wrong with that. But at that moment, he recalled words a girl had spoken to him long ago. Her face was clear and beautiful, her gaze cold as she uttered each word slowly and firmly: "No one is born a slave."
No one is born a slave—
With a "bang," a spray of blood suddenly splattered. Even in the water, he could feel the scalding scent of blood.
His body abruptly surged with strength. He immediately swam upward, pushed aside the blood-covered Yue Jiu, and gripping Chu Qiao’s dagger, began chipping away at the ice with all his might.
"I cannot die!"
He whispered to himself.
"I cannot die. I still have many wishes unfulfilled."
His lungs felt ready to burst, his body frozen stiff, the wound grotesquely torn and bleeding. Yet, he mechanically struggled for survival.
I cannot die! I cannot die! I cannot die! Bang!
The ice layer shattered entirely. The immense buoyancy instantly lifted him upward. The sunlight was blinding, the fresh air rushing toward him. He gasped for breath, as if wanting to empty his lungs entirely.
"Yue Jiu!"
He shouted loudly, "We are saved!"He looked around but saw no sign of Yue Jiu, then plunged back into the water, diving deeper until he finally found Yue Jiu's body at the bottom of the lake.
The young swordsman was covered in wounds, his face deathly pale, eyes wide open, hair disheveled and stained with blood. With great effort, he dragged Yue Jiu to the surface, then pressed hard on the guard's chest, rubbing his face and hands while shouting, "Wake up! I order you! Wake up!"
Throughout his life, Zhuge Yue had never cried so unrestrainedly, but that day, he wept for a household servant. On the vast wilderness, he cried like a lone wolf.
Three days later, he finally encountered Yue Qi, who had miraculously survived.
The loyal guard, along with the remaining Moon Guards who had been hiding in Yanbei, had been searching for him near the Chishui River for three days. Over twenty guards had already frozen to death while diving into the lake to look for him.
Then, they transported him, near death, to Wolong Mountain. After half a year, he finally recovered, only to face a shattered future.
That morning, he sat silently for a long time with the intelligence reports brought back by Yue Qi and others. From sunrise to sunset, his teacher entered and, looking at the Ximeng map hanging before him, asked calmly, "Where will you go?"
It had been many years since he'd felt this way. He looked up, bewildered, and said, "Teacher, I have nowhere to go."
The gray-haired old man smiled kindly, then extended his slender hand and shattered the Ximeng Continent on the map with a single palm strike. He said quietly, "Since there's no path, then carve your own."
Puzzled, he looked - Daxia, Yanbei, Biantang, Huai Song - all were shattered by his teacher's palm strike. The map became an empty hole, leaving only the Quanrong tribes beyond the borders, the southeastern seas, and the vast western expanse.
"Child, beyond people there are greater people, beyond heaven there are higher heavens. How do you know this map can only be drawn this large?"
Early the next morning, he received another message: Meng Feng had finally been tried by the Dali Yuan last month. Now that the charges were confirmed, she had been exiled to Qinghai and had probably already reached Cuiwei Pass.
The shadows of time transformed the road ahead into extravagance. During those dark, cold days, his curved blade continuously swung out, emitting fierce and sharp arcs as he struggled stubbornly against fate's throat again and again. Warm blood covered his eyes, yet from that thick crimson he saw the true meaning of life.
...Early the next morning, a courier horse from Zhenhuang suddenly charged into Zhuge Yue's villa. The messenger's face was covered with the dust of travel, his lips chapped and dry, his cloak shaking out clouds of yellow sand.
Everyone's expressions turned grim. Chu Qiao suddenly understood something. She quietly stood up and left the dining hall.
Half an hour later, Zhuge Yue was preparing to depart.
Chu Qiao accompanied him all the way to the post road outside the northern city gate. The weather was somewhat cool, and Chu Qiao wore a blue cloak, with a circle of white fur framing her smooth, pale face, making her look clean, elegant, and beautiful.
When they reached the Ten-Mile Pavilion, Yue Qi and the others tactfully withdrew, leaving only the two of them. Zhuge Yue dismounted without a word, with Chu Qiao following behind. Outside the pavilion, wormwood grew everywhere, the pillars had peeling paint, and the plaque hung crooked, creating a desolate and decaying scene.
"I have to go."
Zhuge Yue turned around, looking at her quietly as he spoke in a calm tone."Oh." Chu Qiao nodded. "Be careful on the road."
Zhuge Yue's brows slightly furrowed. It seemed they were always like this—after the initial excitement of their reunion faded, they grew increasingly distant and cold, as if neither knew how to interact with the other, resorting only to meaningless pleasantries.
"Where will you go after I leave?"
"Me? I might... go to Biantang first."
"And then?"
"Then?" Chu Qiao's brows lightly knitted. After thinking for a long while, she suddenly smiled. "I don't know. Maybe I'll wander around, stopping wherever the food is delicious or the scenery is beautiful, staying for a while. Who knows?"
A gust of wind blew, accompanied by a crisp jingling sound. Chu Qiao and Zhuge Yue looked up simultaneously and saw a wind chime hanging from the dilapidated pavilion. Though faded from years of wind and rain, its sound remained clear and pleasant, ringing with each breeze.
"Will you... go to Yanbei?"
Chu Qiao smiled quietly. "I lived there for many years. I've seen all the scenery worth seeing. Besides, my health isn't good now—I probably can't endure the northern cold. I might not even dare to go to Zhenhuang in Daxia."
Zhuge Yue nodded, as if understanding something. His movements were somewhat stiff, and the words long harbored in his heart could no longer be spoken.
These days, like blossoms on the sea, were ultimately an illusory mirage. Once time passed, they would shatter. Everything was ill-timed; even standing here now felt like a forced, helpless act. It was all predestined, like fine sand in one's hand—the harder one tried to hold on, the faster it slipped away.
He stepped forward to leave, his expression as aloof and cold as ever, unwilling to say another word.
"Zhuge Yue!"
The woman's urgent voice suddenly called from behind. Her hand was so small, icy cold, gripping the hem of his clothes with a familiar stubbornness.
"Thank you,"
she said softly, her voice tinged with a hint of choked emotion, yet still coherent.
"I thought I would never have the chance to say this to you in this lifetime. Thank heavens you are safe and sound."
A faint smile touched Chu Qiao's lips. "Zhuge Yue, my life has been full of obstacles and hardships. I've done many things, walked many paths—some right, some wrong—but I've never regretted any of it. I see my own heart clearly and owe no one. Except you. I owe you too much, beyond repayment. Now that you've returned safely, I should stay by your side and spend my life repaying your kindness. But the person I am now is no longer who I was before. After all that has happened, I no longer have the courage to step into that world again. After the battle of Yanbei, General Xiuli died. What remains is just an ordinary woman who has lost her dreams. I no longer have the ability to stand by your side."
The wind chimes continued to jingle in their ears. Time seemed to freeze in that moment, and the wheel of fate wore a mocking smile, sneering at the helplessness of mortals below.Chu Qiao suddenly spread her arms and approached from behind, her fingers slipping through the man's arm. Her fair skin brushed against the soft silk of his robe, the gold-thread embroidery rubbing against her pale wrist. The wind was still as her hands gradually closed, tightening in front of her before she took small steps forward, pressing her cheek slowly against his back.
A tear trickled from the corner of her eye, falling onto his navy-blue garment and leaving a damp pattern.
"Zhuge Yue, I'm sorry."
Her voice was so faint, like a child weeping softly in the howling northern wind.
A light snow suddenly began to drift from the sky, melting before it even touched the ground. Yet on their shoulders, it quietly accumulated.
Skin against skin, breaths audible—this was the first time she had actively embraced him. Time flowed like water between them, countless scenes quietly emerging and fading away. Fate had played a cruel joke on them from the very beginning, and it had taken countless hardships to reach this distance today. The dust of years had settled on their faces, the storms of bloodshed had passed, yet the shackles of destiny still bound them.
Pale birds flew across the sky, their wings sweeping past the horizon's edge, forming long rows as they wound southward. Gradually, they faded into the distance, leaving no trace of their flight.
The embrace finally loosened, and Chu Qiao's hands slowly withdrew. His robes were cold, chilling her fingers to the bone. His back remained straight and unwavering, as if nothing in this world could defeat him. He was still as handsome and tall as ever, his silhouette exuding a frigid aura that seemed to freeze the very air around them.
Suddenly, her arms felt empty. Chu Qiao pursed her lips and forced a faint smile.
"Take care."
Whoosh—a gust of wind swept in from the distance, causing wind chimes to sway wildly, their jingling creating a lively clamor.
Zhuge Yue strode out of the Ten-Mile Pavilion, his expensive boots crushing the withered grass beneath. The broken blades lay soft upon the ground, their roots severed by the wind's force.
He mounted his horse, and the Moon Guards cracked their whips, their shouts urging the warhorses forward. Hooves thundered, shattering the tranquility of the post road. Long cloaks billowed like battle standards, charging toward the tumultuous and challenging north with a roaring momentum.
He never looked back, remaining as proud and handsome as ever, his posture erect in the saddle. Dressed in fine marten fur, his ink-black hair flowed through the cold wind as he galloped farther away, eventually vanishing into the rolling yellow dust, leaving no trace behind.
The morning mist had yet to dissipate, and the road's end was shrouded in a vast, hazy whiteness. Withered grass on either side swirled in the wind, uncertain where it would be blown.
Chu Qiao suddenly remembered a time long ago, on the Yanbei plateau, when she and the Xiuli Army had been betrayed by Cheng Yuan and trapped in a Daxia encirclement.
That night, she had also watched his retreating figure just as quietly, seeing him gradually disappear into the boundless snowy wilderness. Back then, he hadn't looked back either, but he had walked slowly, leading his horse, clad in a heavy fur coat. Snow fell heavily from the sky, collecting on her eyelashes. The weather was so cold it made one want to cry.
In the blink of an eye, so many years had passed.The morning sun pierced through the mist and gradually rose. Rural peddlers and market-goers passed by continuously, calling out in long, melodious tones as they hawked various delightful trinkets.
Gradually, the sun climbed to its zenith. Groups of travelers came and went—carriages of noble ladies heading out to pray at temples, wandering martial artists escorting goods, and white-clad knights-errant often seen in martial arts novels. Some even approached her as she stood in the pavilion, attempting to strike up conversations about romantic affairs in the martial world.
Yet she saw none of it. She simply stood there quietly, as the surroundings grew increasingly noisy, then gradually fell into cold silence. The sun rose and set, and the pale moon hung like a silver hook, resembling a mother’s compassionate face.
The world felt desolate and empty, leaving only her alone. Her hands and feet had long gone numb. The sky darkened until nothing was visible, save for a patch of pale moonlight shimmering on the reeds, ghastly white. All thoughts of returning or moving forward had vanished.
She took a deep breath, lowered her head, and shook her stiff neck. All her hardships condensed into a sigh, but it never escaped her lips—instead, it sank heavily into her heart.
A gentle breeze swept across the wilderness, rustling through the grass. Her heart felt vast and hollow, as countless hazy memories drifted through her mind. Everything had drifted away from her, leaving only an empty expanse. Ten years of life and death had blurred into obscurity—everything was misty and desolate, like wind slipping through her fingers, impossible to grasp and utterly futile.
In the Netherworld, she suddenly recalled words spoken many, many years ago.
"Min Rui, with so many men around you, which one have you taken a liking to?"
Min Rui was trimming her nails and raised an eyebrow slightly at the question. "Me? How would I know? Besides, which of them is worthy of me?"
"Xiao Shi, what about you? Are you going to stick with that postdoc of yours for life?"
Xiao Shi brought over the dinner she had prepared herself, smiling gently and sweetly as she replied, "Yes."
"Be careful. You’re supporting him through his studies—what if he dumps you once he makes something of himself?"
"He wouldn’t, would he?" Xiao Shi hesitated, then turned to Mao'er. "What about you? If someone you loved dumped you in the future, what would you do?"
"How dare he?" Mao'er stood on the sofa, fuming with indignation. "If he dared, I’d castrate him and then beat up that vixen."
Min Rui snorted disdainfully. "You? Who could you possibly beat up?"
"Underestimating me? I’ll sell you to a brothel tonight."
"Fine by me," Min Rui lazily stretched. "I’ve been wanting to go to Amsterdam to get a professional license anyway. You’ll have to convince my old man first."
"Chu Qiao, what about you?" Xiao Shi leaned in, nudging her shoulder with a fork holding a freshly baked bun, and asked with a grin, "If Chu Qiao liked someone, what would you do?"
She had been organizing materials for her next mission and paused briefly at the question before smiling. "I don’t know."
"How could you not know?"
Mao'er snatched the cake from Xiao Shi’s fork and mumbled, "No evasive answers! Don’t give us that bureaucratic talk. Hmph!"
"Me?" Chu Qiao thought quietly for a moment before smiling gently. "I suppose... I might treat him very well."
"How well?"
Outside, everything was pitch black. The young Chu Qiao turned to gaze into the dark night, tilting her head in thought. After a long while, she finally whispered:
"Very, very well.""Very good, very good..."
She turned around and took hold of the reins.
The horse gently leaned its head over, softly brushing against Chu Qiao's cheek, gazing at her with deep concern and affection.
"Hehe."
Chu Qiao felt a slight tickle. This was Meteor, whom Zhuge Yue had raised for many years before returning him to her. He remained as affectionate as ever.
She reached out to push him away, her voice still somewhat hoarse as she whispered, "Meteor, stop fooling around."
But as she moved her hand, the back of it accidentally brushed against her own face—already chapped by the wind and streaked with tears.
She suddenly froze, then turned to look at Meteor. The horse strained to turn northward, snorting at her as if urging her to chase after someone.
"Good Meteor."
She gently stroked his head, pressing her face against his neck. The horse had grown somewhat old, much like her own heart—weary and scarred.
"Let's go."
She straightened up, leading the horse as she silently walked southward.
The moonlight cast her shadow, stretching it long and pale across the bleak ground.
Roosting crows startled by their passing fluttered noisily across the post road. The girl's figure gradually receded into the distance, finally condensing into a faint, pale silhouette.
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