The Lament of Autumn

She turned to look at him and said calmly, "I'm leaving you."

The match remained poised over the striker, unmoving for a long moment. The expression on his face suddenly froze. Outside the window, the wind howled, but inside the room, it was utterly silent. She walked over quietly, took the foreign fire from his hand, struck the match against the striker, and cupped the small flame with one hand, bringing it before his eyes.

The emotions in his dark eyes were laid bare by the firelight, with nowhere to hide.

At first, she was slightly taken aback, then tears suddenly welled up in her eyes, rolling slowly down her cheeks. Afraid that her last bit of courage would be shattered by that one look, she threw the match away as if fleeing, took a few steps back, and sobbed, "If that's the case, why did you treat me this way?"

He stood up from the sofa, looked at her tear-streaked face, and after a long pause, suddenly smiled faintly. "Anyway, I don't want you anymore."

Tears streamed from her eyes like scattered sand, her heart aching as if pierced by a knife. Yet, upon hearing his words, she curled her lips slightly upward and whispered, "Fine. From this day forward, whether we live or die, marry or wed others, we shall have nothing to do with each other!"

A tear slipped into her mouth, the bitter taste spreading between her lips and teeth.

She had long prepared her belongings, waiting downstairs. After saying these words, she took her cloak from the coat rack and put it on. He stood behind her all the while. The cloak's fasteners were shaped like tiny jasmine flowers, but for some reason, she couldn't fasten them, her fingers trembling uncontrollably.

Giving up, she went straight to push the door open. Just as her hand touched the doorknob, another hand pressed down on hers. He pulled her tightly into his embrace. She struggled desperately to pry his hands away but couldn't break free. The two wrestled in silence until he dragged her back from the door.

Her anger and resentment grew stronger. She resorted to kicking and punching, crying, "Liar, you liar!" She bit down hard on his wrist, but he still didn't let go. Her scalding tears fell like rain.

The night outside was like thick ink splashed across the window, reflecting their shadows. Her cloak had long fallen to the floor. Tripped by the cloak and pulled by his strength, they both tumbled onto the bed.

The next day at noon, his adjutant came to see her. "Miss Lan, the army commander has some things to give you."

She sat quietly in the living room, listening to the adjutant. "The army commander has left this house to you, Miss Lan. The property deeds are all here." The adjutant spoke slowly, taking documents and proofs one by one from his briefcase. There was also a small seal engraved with her name. "The army commander has deposited two hundred thousand silver dollars in the Golden Mausoleum Bank for you, Miss Lan. You can withdraw the funds at any time with this seal."

After explaining everything, the adjutant added politely, "The army commander also asked me to relay a message to you, Miss Lan."

She looked up at the adjutant. "What is it?"

"From this day forward, whether we live or die, marry or wed others, we shall have nothing to do with each other."

(4)

She saw Jiang Manlin again a month later.

Jiang Manlin's personal maid came to find her, saying that Miss Jiang was critically ill and wished to see her one last time.She went to Jiang Manlin's house on a day of heavy snowfall, the sky a murky gray. The car got stuck in traffic, so she got out and trudged through the deep snow, step by step, until she reached Jiang Manlin's home. Jiang Manlin lay on the bed, emaciated as withered wood, her complexion ashen. The doctor they had called in said she had been poisoned with a potent toxin and there was no saving her.

As soon as Jiang Manlin saw her, she reached out and clutched her hand tightly, a flicker of lucidity flashing in her eyes. "Qingqing, I thought you wouldn't come." Jiang Manlin vomited a large amount of blood, which stained the snow-white sheets a vivid crimson. She was breathing heavily now, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "Qingqing, I envy you so much, I truly envy you..."

With great effort, Jiang Manlin tried to slip her hand under the pillow. The needle was still in her vein, and the doctor, fearing she might dislodge it, hurriedly tried to stop her. But she mustered her last ounce of strength and stubbornly pushed her hand beneath the pillow, finally managing to pull out a jade-green pair of Mandarin Ducks.

Jiang Manlin placed the Mandarin Ducks in Lan Qingqing's hand. With a labored exhale, her lips now ashen, she gave a desolate smile. "Qingqing, these Mandarin Ducks were already shattered, weren't they? But I saw with my own eyes how he painstakingly pieced every fragment of this jade back together..."

"How deeply he loves you—even in his dreams, he calls out your name. But the more he loves you, the more he must stay away. He doesn't want you to end up like me."

"Qingqing, he can't bear to part with you... He never could..."

The repaired Mandarin Ducks were now back in her hands. The doctor covered Jiang Manlin's face with the bloodstained sheet, and as she was ushered out of the room, the world around her grew noisy and chaotic. Clutching the Jade Mandarin Ducks, she stumbled dazedly down the stairs and out the door. Outside, a blizzard raged, the wind growing fiercer by the moment.

Wrapped in a pink cloak, she walked slowly forward through the storm.

The first time she had met him, she had learned that Jiang Manlin was being forced by their master to accompany a local gentry for drinks. Nothing good could come of such arrangements. If she hadn't been the troupe's star performer, and if the master hadn't shown her some leniency, she might have suffered the same fate. Furious, she had sneaked away to the tavern without the master's knowledge but barged into the wrong private room, unleashing her rage upon him in a fiery outburst.

He would later laugh heartily whenever he recalled the incident. "In all my life, I've never encountered such a fierce woman!"

Yet all these events felt like stories from a past life. Now, they swept through her mind like the howling blizzard around her. The wind whipped up the snow, flakes stinging her face with their icy chill, blurring her vision. As the snow melted in her eyes, it warmed gradually and trickled down her cheeks. But the hands holding the Jade Mandarin Ducks were even hotter than her tears—scorching, like embers of fire.

The passersby around her were strangers, unrelated to her world. A group of newsboys strained their voices, shouting desperately to sell the day's newspapers. Their cries competed with the roaring wind and snow, but the storm was too loud, reducing the boys' voices to fragmented phrases...

"...Yu Mingxuan, scion of a military family, blood staining Huping..."