Chu Qiao sat on the stone steps, gazing at the sea of clouds in the distance. The flowers in the courtyard bloomed brilliantly, with crimson petals and golden stamens, utterly delightful.
The inn's young attendant sat on a small stool, meticulously brewing tea. He was merely a thirteen or fourteen-year-old child, still at that lively and restless age. Duoji and Ping An sat nearby, chatting idly with him.
Chu Qiao listened as they spoke of the scenery in Sichuan's Shu hills, the ancient plank roads of the southern borderlands, Daxia's Sword Repository, Biantang's Crow Mountain, and finally of Yanbei's heavy recurring snowfalls. The conversation gradually grew more animated, and Jingjing emerged from her room, nibbling on assorted preserved fruits while leaning in to join their casual talk.
Mei Xiang sat under a camphor tree nearby, weaving a necklace with fingers that fluttered like butterfly wings, their dexterity dazzling to behold.
As dusk fell, lanterns were lit in the courtyard, and the summer heat gradually dissipated. Jingjing had requested several chilled bowls from the kitchen, filled with assorted fruits—cool and refreshing, they looked utterly appealing.
It was all due to the recent heavy rain that had washed away the suspension bridge before Qiufeng City, delaying Chu Qiao and her companions' journey. They would need to stay in Qiufeng City for two days before continuing northward.
Currently, they were staying at a small inn nestled between mountains and water. The entire inn was built on the mountainside, rising and falling with the terrain, lush with trees, appearing from afar like a stretch of forest.
Chu Qiao's room was situated on a high stone cliff facing west. The proprietor must have been a person of refined taste; since the place neighbored Xizhao Mountain, he named it Xizhao Courtyard. Every evening, the sunset here was exceptionally beautiful.
Zhuge Yue resided in the neighboring Guizang Pavilion. Yesterday afternoon, he had dispatched his guards to assist the local authorities in repairing the suspension bridge and ferry—likely because he truly had urgent matters requiring immediate return.
It had rained in the morning, only clearing in the afternoon. The leaves were a glossy green, and though the blossoms had scattered, they appeared even more delicate and charming.
Chu Qiao wore a beige linen dress, her hair adorned with a single ebony hairpin, her long black locks loosely tied into a bun, giving her a refreshing and comfortable appearance.
Tonight's moon was full. Chu Qiao gazed quietly at it, suddenly realizing that the Mid-Autumn Festival was approaching, though this region did not celebrate it.
Here, the Mid-Autumn Festival was called the White Moon Festival, originating from a song Chu Qiao had once heard in the military. The song told of a man who rode off to war, fighting for many years, rising from a common soldier to a squad leader, then to a general. Finally, when the war ended and he returned home, he found his house collapsed, his wife taken by another, his parents and children starved to death, their bones turned to dust without even a grave to mark their resting place.
She still remembered the song's final line: The moon shines upon my soul, urging you to return home early.
Since then, the White Moon Festival had become a festival of reunion, urging people to cherish their families and not neglect familial affection for temporary gains, only to regret when it was too late to recover.
The moon shines upon my soul, urging you to return home early...
"How lovely."
Mei Xiang set down the necklace she was weaving, turning to Chu Qiao with a smile. "I've never heard you sing before, Miss."
Chu Qiao started slightly, only then realizing she had unconsciously begun humming the tune.
"It truly is a beautiful song. Can you understand its meaning now, Miss?"Chu Qiao tilted her head slightly. "Mei Xiang has been so fond of lecturing others lately."
"I've never studied much and only know the simplest truths. How could I compare to your profound knowledge, Miss?" Mei Xiang chuckled softly, then added, "But sometimes, the more one knows, the more confused the mind becomes, overlooking even the most obvious truths."
"Day after day, year after year, I climb the roof beam, gazing down the village road, yet my husband remains unseen. My husband guards the frontier, while outsiders kick down our door. Our children lack clothing, our parents starve. The emperor is distant, the soldiers are not home, the village chief is a tyrant. Drizzling rain and chilling snow pile against our broken house. The moon illuminates my soul, urging your early return."
Mei Xiang's face held a serene smile as she leaned against the tree, humming quietly. Petals drifted down, landing on the necklaces in her hand, while the moonlight cast a silvery glow on her fingers, resembling curved butterfly wings.
Just then, a faint flute melody drifted from afar. Distant and ethereal, it carried a subtle, lingering tenderness. Even at its most spirited moments, it retained an elegant clarity, winding through the air like delicate smoke—serene, prolonged, and imbued with an open-hearted sentiment.
Ping An and the others, who had been chatting idly, fell silent upon hearing the flute. Duoji straightened up, his eyes filled with admiration and longing. Even Jingjing, who knew nothing of music, pricked up her ears, listening quietly.
Mei Xiang stood and returned to her room, emerging with a beige cloak that she gently draped over Chu Qiao's shoulders. "You've been rushing about these past few days, always on edge. It's time to rest now. The inn's backyard has lovely scenery, and the moonlight is perfect tonight. Why not take a stroll, Miss?"
Chu Qiao turned to see Mei Xiang watching her with a faint smile, her eyes holding a hint of encouragement and persuasion.
"Mei Xiang..."
Chu Qiao wanted to say something but ultimately couldn't find the words.
Mei Xiang said, "Miss, I don't understand much—grand ideals, beliefs, or faith. I only wish for your happiness. You're a good person; that song shouldn't be sung for you."
The moonlight fell on Chu Qiao's face, leaving her momentarily dazed. She couldn't help but recall the latter part of the song:
"The mountains endure countless winters, white snow drifting aimlessly. You return, lost on the road, beneath a vast, desolate sky. Our child died of plague, our parents without rice soup. I sell myself to buy survival grain. My husband, ambitious, scorns this humble life. Ten years I've waited for your return, my hair already streaked with frost. Life is full of obstacles, time flows like water. I seek no great wealth, only a humble bed in poverty."
"Mei Xiang, fetch the light green one."
Mei Xiang paused, looking at her uncertainly.
But Chu Qiao suddenly smiled, standing up. "Always in white or black—it's like attending a funeral."
Bathed in moonlight, she walked quietly as all the years and memories flowed through her mind like a line of egrets soaring across an ink-wash landscape. Everything—intense, faded, vivid, or bleak—gradually settled in her heart, turning into a pool of water that slowly froze into ice.
Grudges, bonds, hatred, entanglements, aid, companionship, life and death, reunions, struggles, joy, farewells, bewilderment...With every step she took, scenes and landscapes unfolded before her eyes, each image bearing far too many heavy burdens. There were national grudges, personal vendettas, debts of guilt, stubborn longings, years of repression and endurance, and passions so fierce they nearly shattered all constraints, swirling relentlessly.
So many emotions swelled within her heart, finally pierced one by one by those straightforward lyrics, surging fiercely through her fingertips.
She was like a clear lake, using reason and calm to form a thin layer of ice over herself, suppressing all the emotions she deemed improper.
One year, two years, many years.
Above a secluded pond in the back mountain stood a small pavilion. The wooden structure showed signs of decay, but the owner had thoughtfully planted a few ginger lilies and wisteria beneath it. Delicate blossoms climbed up the vines, winding around the pillars in coils, adding an elegant tranquility.
The pale moonlight shone upon the emerald-green pond ahead, a full, snow-white moon reflected at the center of the ripples.
Zhuge Yue, dressed in a light purple robe, sat casually on the steps beneath the pavilion. One leg was bent, the other stretched out, his back leaning against a peeling pillar. A few strands of ink-black hair slipped from his temples, falling across his face. His appearance remained strikingly handsome as he held a green bamboo flute, playing a captivating melody. There was no lingering melancholy or lofty ambition—it was like an ordinary folk tune played by a young man, sometimes lively, sometimes gentle. The playful fragrance of ginger lilies drifted around him like mischievous children.
Chu Qiao stood there quietly, soundless. The wind brushed past her light green cloak, the thin gauze floating like willow branches in early spring.
It seemed she had never observed him so carefully before. Through the turbulent years, so much time had passed in a flash. She had once lamented how unfortunate she was, but now, reflecting on it, she realized she was far luckier than the general in the song. Her home hadn’t collapsed, her loved ones hadn’t died, and the one she loved was still standing right there. If she were willing to turn back, she could reach his hand.
Even across countless mountains and rivers, facing the world’s disapproval, he had steadfastly walked to this day. With his rare willfulness and stubbornness, he had repeatedly broken through constraints, sheltering her under a clear sky.
The ice in her heart melted. She seemed to hear the collapse of reason’s fortress. She told herself: Perhaps I can be willful just once.
After all, it had been many years since she last allowed herself that luxury.
The flute music stopped abruptly. The man tilted his head sideways and, seeing the green-clad woman standing silently beneath the osmanthus tree, was momentarily dazed.
“Why are you here?”
“Are you allowed to come, but I’m not?”
Chu Qiao smiled, walked over, and lightly kicked Zhuge Yue’s leg. “Move aside.”
The man retracted his leg, and she sat down in the vacated spot. The bright, white ripples of the deep pond reflected on her face like scattered pearls, shimmering softly.
“Zhuge Yue, the suspension bridge will be repaired tomorrow. Are you returning to Daxia?”
Zhuge Yue nodded, looking at her with some surprise. “What’s the matter?”
“Then when will you come for me?”
A flicker of astonishment passed through the man’s eyes. He seemed puzzled, scrutinizing her up and down as if suspecting some scheme.
“Will it be after Emperor Xia dies? Or after Zhao Che ascends the throne? By then, will you be able to return unscathed?”Chu Qiao sat curled up on the stone steps, the hood of her cloak drooping behind her back, slightly raised and framing her snow-white neck. With her chin resting on her knees and her eyes fixed on the pond ahead, she suddenly turned her head and said, "Zhuge Yue, let me sing a song for you."
Her gaze was exceptionally clear, no longer carrying the worldly sorrow it once held. She looked at him quietly, smiling softly, just as she had in many dreams—her eyes free of impurities, free of anyone else's shadow, holding only him.
He couldn't recall how he had nodded, only that she happily cupped her cheeks in her hands, the moonlight tracing graceful curves across her face. Her voice was soft, like the gentle lapping of waves on fine sand, gradually piercing the night's tranquility and drifting softly into the depths of his heart.
—Long, long ago, you had me, and I had you. Long, long ago, you left me to soar in the distant skies. The world outside is wonderful, the world outside is harsh. When you find the world outside wonderful, I will be here, sincerely wishing you well. Every time the sun sets in the west, I am always here waiting for you. Though rain falls from the sky, I still await your return.
—Long, long ago, you had me, and I had you. Long, long ago, you left me to soar in the distant skies. The world outside is wonderful, the world outside is harsh. When you find the world outside harsh, I will still be here, patiently waiting for you. Every time the sun sets in the west, I am always here waiting for you. Though rain falls from the sky, I still await your return.
The song drifted quietly on the night breeze, echoing softly in the courtyard filled with the fragrance of azure blossoms. Chu Qiao turned her head, her gaze as clear as ever. She reached out her hand, cautiously and slowly approaching Zhuge Yue's hand—unlike any time before, like a girl experiencing first love, her fingertips trembling with nervousness. Bit by bit, she gently touched the back of his hand, then softly clasped his fingers with her own. They felt so cold, like the water of a secluded pond.
Zhuge Yue turned to look at her, his expression frozen in surprise. The night breeze swept between them, the fragrance of flower buds in the pavilion enveloping them. Sitting on the steps like children, holding hands, neither spoke first.
They had always been at odds, and now that they stood on the same side, they seemed unsure of how to position themselves.
Zhuge Yue felt like laughing, but he knew he absolutely must not laugh at this moment. He furrowed his brows seriously, his expression deeply thoughtful.
Having let go of her reservations, Chu Qiao became more at ease. Holding his hand, she widened her eyes and asked, "Zhuge Yue, is Qinghai nice?"
"Hmm?" The man was momentarily taken aback, then replied, "It's alright."
"Is it beautiful?"
With a complete lack of romantic sensibility, he answered, "A few places are quite nice."
"Is Qinghai cold?"
"Not in summer, but it's cold in winter."
Chu Qiao said hopefully, "The people there must be very simple and honest."
"Are you foolish? Where doesn't have a few bad people? All crows are black under the sky—who doesn't have selfish motives?"
"Ah?" Chu Qiao finally frowned. "Then Qinghai isn't so great after all."
"When did I ever say it was a good place?"Chu Qiao was speechless. Was this what a man said before eloping with a woman?
"But there's one good thing about that place."
Chu Qiao asked, "What is it?"
Zhuge Yue smiled proudly, "I'm the one in charge there."
Zhuge Yue laughed twice by himself, but when he realized no one was joining in, he gloomily fell silent.
"Xing'er, since when?"
Chu Qiao was slightly taken aback. She turned her head and asked, "What did you say?"
Zhuge Yue remained silent for a moment, as if finding it difficult to speak. His brows slowly furrowed, and it took him a long time to say, "Since when have you stopped hating me?"
"Who said I don't hate you?"
Chu Qiao angrily gestured toward her head with her fist, "I remember everything right here."
Zhuge Yue glanced at her disdainfully, "Your words don't match your heart."
The moonlight gently illuminated everything below. In truth, many times, some things only required a few words or a small gesture, yet reaching this point had taken so many years.
The osmanthus trees swayed, and the man's fingers naturally closed around the woman's cold hand, holding it in his palm.
All those years of hardship, all those years of persistence, seemed to be just waiting for this one gesture.
He turned his head, and from an angle no one could see, he happily curved the corners of his mouth.
The next day, the suspension bridge was finally repaired. They left Qiufeng City, crossed the Muling River by waterway, then went ashore at Qiusha County, where they were about to part ways.
Two carriages stood still, with Zhuge Yue and Chu Qiao at the front of their respective groups. The weather was clear and bright, the sky pure blue.
Zhuge Yue looked coolly toward the north and said, "I'm leaving."
"Oh," Chu Qiao nodded, "Go ahead."
"Don't hang around with Li Ce too much. If you have nothing to do, just go back to your inn."
"Who's hanging around?" Chu Qiao frowned.
"Hmph—"
"Zhuge Yue, we're about to part ways. Let's both restrain ourselves and leave a good impression on each other."
Zhuge Yue grumbled awkwardly, "I've never had a good impression of you."
Chu Qiao angrily went to pinch him, "Are you even human? Do you have any humanity left? Who was the one crying and begging me before?"
Chu Qiao pinched him hard, and Zhuge Yue got angry too, "Chu, when did I ever cry and beg you?"
Didn't he?
Chu Qiao thought about it and realized he actually hadn't.
But his actions were pretty close, weren't they? Why act so indifferent after getting what he wanted? Besides, could it even be considered "getting what he wanted" at this point?
She glared at him fiercely, "Just keep pretending."
The cold war lasted for a short while as they glared at each other angrily. The original sorrow of parting gradually faded away.
After all, they had taken a step closer, hadn't they?
At the very least, they could now joke with each other naturally.
"I'm serious," Zhuge Yue suddenly said very seriously. "Don't hang around Li Ce too much, and don't get involved in Biantang's state affairs either. I've noticed you're a woman who loves to meddle in other people's business way too much."
Meddle in other people's business?
Chu Qiao stared at him, displeased, "I just wanted to give him a warning before."
"And now? What are you going to do now?"
Chu Qiao said angrily, "Aren't we leaving? I'm going to say goodbye to him."
Leaving? Going where?
Zhuge Yue's mood suddenly improved a lot. He cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly and said, "Just be careful. That scoundrel Li Ce isn't any good either."Chu Qiao shook her head and said with deep emotion, "The saying 'burning the bridge after crossing the river' probably refers to someone like you."
"What did you say?"
Zhuge Yue was truly on the verge of flying into a rage out of humiliation. Chu Qiao raised her hand, wearing an expression of unwillingness to engage with him. "Aren't you leaving yet? It'll be dark soon. If you're not going, I will."
After dawdling for a long while, Zhuge Yue suddenly took out a white jade bell from his robe. It looked utterly ordinary. Holding it up to her mouth, he said, "Sing that song you sang last night for me again."
Chu Qiao was taken aback and asked, "Why?"
Zhuge Yue's face suddenly flushed red, looking quite adorable. He frowned and said, "Why so many questions? Just sing when I tell you to."
"Singing requires the right mood. I'm not in a good mood right now, so I don't feel like singing."
Zhuge Yue fixed her with the murderous glare he had honed over many years, not looking away for a long time.
Chu Qiao grew somewhat uneasy under his gaze and said softly, "So many people are watching. If I sing, they'll all hear me. How could I ever show my face again?"
Reluctantly accepting her explanation, Zhuge Yue said, "Then say something into it."
"Say what?"
The man nearly gritted his teeth as he replied, "Anything!"
Chu Qiao immediately shouted into the bell, "Zhuge Yue is a scoundrel!"
Her voice was so loud that even the numerous attendants below turned to look.
Zhuge Yue flew into a rage, turned around, and started to leave. Seeing that the joke had gone too far, Chu Qiao quickly caught up and grabbed his hand. Speaking into the small bell, she said, "Remember, I'll be waiting for you."
With just that one sentence, the man's anger subsided. He was truly someone easily placated.
"What is this thing?"
Chu Qiao curiously touched it a couple of times. It felt neither like stone nor jade, exquisitely crafted in the shape of a bell, but with intricate, winding channels inside, almost like a human ear.
Zhuge Yue ignored her and simply said, "Hurry up, stop dawdling."
As if he had any right to complain?
The two joined the rest of the group. Finally, it was time to leave. Chu Qiao couldn't help but sincerely advise, "Be careful in all things."
Zhuge Yue appeared composed and calmly waved his hand slightly, mounting his horse with an air of aloof pride and detachment, as if he were above it all. "Remember what I said."
With that, he grandly rode off, surrounded by his guards.
The figures gradually faded into the distance, but Chu Qiao remained standing in place, not quite processing what had happened.
Jingjing approached, looking infatuated, and murmured, "Sister, Brother-in-law is so cold."
Duoji frowned, clearly displeased by her words, and said sternly, "Jingjing, don't speak nonsense."
"I'll say what I want!" Jingjing turned to glare at him, making faces while shouting, "I'll annoy you to death! Annoy you to death!"
"Duoji, do you know what this is?" Chu Qiao asked with a frown, describing the appearance of Zhuge Yue's small bell.
Duoji slightly furrowed his brow, pondered silently for a long moment, and then said, "Miss, if you didn't missee it, that should be the legendary Xiangzhi Bell. Ancient texts record it as one of the three great treasures of the Southwest Windwhisper Tribe. The Windwhisper people are skilled in craftsmanship and proficient in mechanical arts. This Xiangzhi Bell was personally crafted by the eighth chieftain of the Windwhisper Tribe. It's said that if you speak loudly into the bell's opening, the sound will be preserved within. Once the wind blows past it, the sound will replay, without even a change in tone or intonation. However, the Windwhisper Tribe has always been elusive, and no one has heard news of them for many years. The Xiangzhi Bell has long been lost. Where did you see this bell, miss? And did you hear it speak?"
Chu Qiao was momentarily stunned. The distant hoofbeats had long vanished, leaving only a trail of dust swirling above the mountain path.
"Xiangzhi Bell?"
Zhuge Yue had abandoned the carriage for horseback. Now that they were nearing the border of Daxia and their reinforcements were just ahead, they no longer needed to carefully conceal their movements.
The weather was warm, without a hint of wind, but as the horse galloped, a faint breeze still brushed past, sweeping over the bell hanging around his neck.
"Remember, I'm waiting for you."
A woman's soft murmur, tender and lingering, whispered gently in his ear, like a clear lake quietly enveloping the hazy dust. The corners of his lips unconsciously lifted slightly, but before the smile could reach his eyes, another voice suddenly rang out sharply:
"Zhuge Yue is a scoundrel!"
The voice was so loud that all the guards galloping alongside him were startled, reining in their horses in alarm and turning to look at him with confusion.
Zhuge Yue's face instantly turned as grim as it could possibly be.
On the eastern post road, inside the blue-cloth carriage, Chu Qiao was still deep in thought:
"Isn't that just like a tape recorder?"
"Sister, what's a tape recorder?"
Jingjing leaned in, blinking her eyes as she asked. Ever since meeting Zhuge Yue, the young girl had been in high spirits, and her relationship with Chu Qiao had immediately returned to its former closeness.
Hearing this, Chu Qiao very enthusiastically began to explain to her, "This tape recorder..."
Mei Xiang sat on the other side of the carriage, watching Chu Qiao explain the principles of a tape recorder to Jingjing, and couldn't help but smile faintly.
In truth, life is often like this—those involved are confused, while onlookers see clearly. Many things are not as complicated as they seem, but because of certain obsessions in one's heart, people stubbornly cling to them, wasting precious time. No matter how intelligent a person is, if something happens to them personally, they will still feel lost and uncertain.
Sometimes, all it takes is one step forward, and everything that follows will undergo earth-shaking changes.
"The road hasn't reached its end yet. There might still be other unforeseen events. Are you afraid?"
The wind brushed over the emerald waters of the secluded pond, stirring shallow ripples.
She gently rested her head on his shoulder, the faint fragrance of ginger lily drifting slowly over. Her voice was soft, as if breaking through all the hesitations and demons in her heart, gradually condensing into three short words: "I'm not afraid."
He smiled lightly, wrapping an arm around her waist, and they sat like that until dawn.
————Divider————
The final major wave of tragedy in this story is about to arrive.
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