PMM - 56

When did he fall in love with Lian Sheng? He didn’t know either.

They met too early—so early that he practically raised her. Yet their bond was so fleeting; the girl he had guarded for sixteen years ended up loving someone else.

He remembered when she was four years old, with a little bun tied atop her head, begging him to play with her. Being mature beyond his years, he didn’t know how to entertain children. She was short and thick-skinned as a child, so she clung to his leg and swung it back and forth, repeatedly calling him “Brother.”

No one had ever acted so sweetly toward him. At the time, he thought it was amusing, but looking back, he realized it had been heartwarming.

He took her outside the residence. Both of them were still children. It was Lian Sheng’s first time seeing the outside world, and she was filled with wonder. Her big eyes were wide open, and she wanted to look at everyone she encountered.

She wanted little clay figurines, candied haws, and kites. Lian Qi had no choice but to buy them for her. Later, holding a bunch of things, he let her cling to the edge of his robe as they walked home.

The little girl had short legs, and as she blinked her eyes, she grew increasingly tired, so she called out to him again.

Lian Qi turned back with a darkened face, but she smiled sweetly at him, her eyes curved like the crescent moon in the sky. He couldn’t stay angry.

In the end, he discarded all those miscellaneous items, and she kept only a small clay figurine. Resigned, he carried her on his back. The soft little girl rested on his back: “Big Brother, you’re so good to me.”

He chuckled: “I promised your mother that I would take care of you.”

She asked: “Will Brother always be good to me?”

He watched as the moonlight overlapped their shadows and softly hummed in agreement.

When she was ten years old, she studied The Book of Songs. By then, he had grown into a handsome young man. Acting as her tutor, he held a ruler in his hand and listened to her recite.

She was just losing her baby teeth, so her speech was full of air leaks, making her quiet reading sound quite amusing.

She read Guan Ju—

“Guan guan xu ju, zai he zhi zhou. Yao tiao shu nu, jun zi hao qiu.”

She mispronounced “ju” as “xu,” and the air leaking through her missing teeth made her blush more and more with each word. Lian Qi initially wanted to laugh, but as her tutor, he had to maintain decorum and suppress his amusement. His gaze fell on her flushed cheeks as she continued:

“Can ci xing cai, zuo you liu zhi. Yao tiao shu nu, wu mei qiu zhi.”

She couldn’t go on anymore. The words “can ci” were impossible to pronounce correctly with her missing teeth, and she refused to continue.

He shifted his gaze away from her face and, for the first time, didn’t punish her. Instead, he continued reciting for her—

“Qiu zhi bu de, wu mei si fu, you zai you zai, zhan zhuan fan ce.”

“Qiu zhi bu de, qiu zhi bu de”—little did he know, these words would become a prophecy for his life. For all his efforts, he would never attain what he desired.

When she was twelve, Yi Qiancheng of Shaji came to Yingdong seeking help, but her father ruthlessly ordered the city gates closed. When she learned about it, she asked him: “Big Brother, what will that boy do?”

She revealed concern, feeling pity for the young man. He had intended to ruffle her hair but noticed she had already grown into a graceful young girl. His fingers curled instead. He told her: “Only those with strong perseverance can survive in turbulent times.”

The worry in her brows disappeared, and her eyes sparkled: “Then he will surely survive. If he can endure coming here, he can endure going back.”

That year, he was eighteen—the age when most young men would ride horses, lean against bridges, and attract admiring glances—but he decided to train in the military.

Wearing light armor, he hadn’t yet crossed the central gate when a pink figure rushed out. He stopped and looked at her as she flung herself into his arms like a little bird, her tearful eyes red like peach blossoms in March.

“Big Brother, can you not go?”

His heartbeat quickened uncontrollably. He steadied her shoulders and gently pulled her away from his chest. After a moment of silence, he reached out to wipe away her tears.

No, he couldn’t.

Troubled times were approaching. If he didn’t have any ability, how could he protect her in the future? The girl he had protected for over a decade could only live in luxury, shielded from any hardship. He couldn’t bear to see her suffer even the slightest bit.

On the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, the fifteenth day of the eighth month, he drank with his soldiers. As a general, he was humble, and while his men respected him, they did not fear him.

Among these rough men, there was little entertainment. They began telling crude jokes.

They said that the softest silk in the world couldn’t compare to a woman’s body. And the most tormenting thing in life was nothing more than those fleeting emotions.

He listened intently, drinking heavily in a daze. In his blurred vision, he saw a charming young woman. She leaned on the table, a pink ribbon trailing behind her, biting her lip as she struggled to write an essay.

Later, the pleasurable scenes described by the soldiers appeared in his dreams. He gazed drunkenly at the face beneath him.

When he woke up, he wished he could kill himself. How could he harbor such filthy feelings!

For the next two years, he didn’t dare return home. He feared that his guilt would deepen, that he would sink further into his own desires. Eventually, he forced himself to stop thinking about it, sweating daily as he trained and studying military strategies every day. Finally, he felt that those feelings had faded somewhat.

When he came of age, he returned to the estate.

The first thing he saw was her. She stood behind their father, looking down at her embroidered shoes, lost in thought.

When she saw him, she glared at him angrily and then refused to look at him again.

But that single glance made his heart race uncontrollably. She was fourteen now, nearing the age of笄 (coming of age), with a delicate floral ornament on her forehead and enchanting eyes. Her figure had become curvaceous; she was no longer the little girl who used to cling to him sweetly.

She had become a woman.

He knew why she was angry. He had left for two years, ignoring her pleas to stay. He went to the military camp and never wrote her a single letter. During those two years, she wrote him a letter every month. Her writing had improved from its initial stiffness to elegant, flowing calligraphy.

It was as if she were proudly telling him: Look, even though you left, I didn’t slack off.

Those twenty-four letters were carefully stored away, and whenever he missed her, he would take them out to read.

She didn’t hold grudges. She could be petty when upset, but once she worked things out in her mind, she let go completely. She was still the same obedient and well-behaved sister, and he was her gentle and respectful brother.

He had originally thought that after two years, he would no longer yearn for her.

Until one day, she fell asleep at the desk. As the sunlight quietly faded, her long eyelashes drooped, and in the cool afternoon, she looked especially endearing in her sleep.

He was spellbound, staring at her for a long time. When he came to his senses, his lips had already brushed against her cheek.

She remained unaware, and he fled in panic.

Two years later, when the Western Qiang attacked Yingdong, he fought fiercely amidst thousands of troops and flashing swords. He never thought of giving up. Behind him were his people and the person he loved most.

He had thought he would die on the battlefield, but unexpectedly, at the moment the city gates were breached, he saw a domineering and cold man.

Like a god descending from the heavens, he looked at them with indifference, as if regarding a group of ants.

The Western Qiang general died under his blade. Strangely enough, he recognized the man at first sight. It was Yi Qiancheng.

It wasn’t because he admired Yi Qiancheng’s courage when he had come alone to seek help in Yingdong years ago, but because of the worried expression Lian Sheng had when she mentioned him.

He disliked it immensely. His ominous premonition came true—Lian Sheng had married that man.

He was angry, unwilling, and jealous. He wanted to kill that man. The treasure he had cherished for sixteen years, whom he couldn’t bear to see suffer even a little, had been secretly taken away.

But he could do nothing.

Yi Qiancheng’s army was stationed inside Yingdong. If he dared to make any move, Yi Qiancheng’s men would kill his parents and slaughter the city’s residents.

He watched helplessly as she was taken away. Through the vast desert shadows, he saw Yi Qiancheng’s gaze, piercing through the crowd to land on her. There was no hatred, no annoyance, only an affection that could barely be contained.

He had seen that look before—in the mirror.

For the first time, he realized that he might lose her.

Fang Mu was dead. Upon hearing the news, anger and worry surged in his heart, and he wanted to bring her back immediately. But after traveling a short distance, he gradually calmed down and felt a hint of relief.

With Fang Mu dead, Yi Qiancheng would blame the Lian family. As long as she still bore the surname Lian, there would always be an insurmountable barrier between them.

If she saw Yi Qiancheng’s cold-heartedness, would she return to his side?

He thought that he could no longer treat her as a brother. He no longer wanted to be her brother. He wanted to live in her heart as a man.

He was never truly her “brother.” She wasn’t Father’s child. Aunt Yu’e had arrived at the City Lord’s residence already pregnant. He had secretly investigated later and learned that she should be called Ling Sheng.

That estate near the outskirts of the city was the place he cherished most. She lived there, like a wife waiting for her husband to return.

He drew a design himself and crafted a beautiful hairpin for her. The phoenix hairpin was slanted in her hair, making her look like a flower blooming in early April, blossoming in his heart, fragrant to the touch.

However, he didn’t realize then that what didn’t belong to him would never belong to him. Stolen things were like sand in one’s hand—the tighter you held on, the faster they slipped away.

She left, leaving behind only a hairpin.

In the end, she returned to Yi Qiancheng. He didn’t want to let them go. Lian Xi begged him for help, but he felt no pity. He even thought, what if he refused? If Yi Qiancheng died, would she return to stay by his side forever?

No. Her eyes said no. If he really killed Yi Qiancheng, she would hate him for the rest of her life.

He could only watch her leave, the reins cutting into his palms, and she never looked back. He felt a sense of injustice. Where had the sister who used to cling to him and couldn’t bear to part with him gone? Were those memories only remembered by him?

Their lives no longer intersected. He couldn’t accept this, so he turned to Xiyu. That girl liked him. A clever person like him could easily see it. He had avoided her before, but now he ruthlessly used her, all to get news of Ah Sheng.

Xiyu indeed sent him a letter, filled with trivial matters: What did she eat today? Was she happy?

Without her, he felt as if he had lost his soul. But she was happy and content by the side of the one she loved. Yi Qiancheng treated her well, and she was blissful.

Was he jealous? Yes.

But she would never return. That day, he drank heavily and collapsed on the cold, windy street. He felt like a pitiful creature, his heart corroded to the core, while she remained oblivious. She didn’t know how many years he had suppressed this love, nor how many sleepless nights he had endured.

Perhaps it would take a lifetime to understand that love was inherently unfair.

She didn’t love him. No matter how much he loved her until the heavens collapsed or shouted himself hoarse, she wouldn’t see or hear him. He stared blankly at the pitch-black sky, thinking that if only he hadn’t fallen in love with her, there would be only blessings, no pain.

Finally, the day came when Yi Qiancheng attacked Yingdong.

He thought, Yingdong couldn’t be defended. If he died, would Lian Sheng feel sorrow? Would she stop forgiving Yi Qiancheng because of his death?

But Yi Qiancheng didn’t kill him. The cold wind pierced through Yi Qiancheng’s dark armor. His deep black pupils were cold as he uttered a few words: “I promised her to spare your life.”

Lian Qi laughed, and by the end, his laughter turned somewhat deranged. Was her final sentiment toward him nothing more than pitiful pity?

But not long after, he heard that Lian Sheng had been captured by Liang Zhen. His numb heart could no longer remain calm. He couldn’t bear to see her humiliated by others.

He went with Yi Qiancheng to Huan Shui and rescued her. At that time, he hid behind a towering ancient tree, watching her hold hands with Yi Qiancheng. Her belly was slightly swollen, and her face was gentle.

He suddenly felt his eyes grow moist. The child he had protected as she grew up was now a mother herself.

Her eyes were filled with the intense love he had once yearned for—but it was directed at someone else. He thought, it was time for him to leave. If he didn’t go now, he would drown in this forbidden love.

He would be unable to resist fighting for her, seizing her, even hurting her. He had to leave. How could he truly harm the person he had vowed to protect with his life?

Yi Qiancheng glanced at him briefly, then shifted his gaze away indifferently. He tacitly accepted Lian Qi’s departure.

It was springtime, and thousands of willow catkins floated along the riverbank. He led a horse, with no one to see him off.

He couldn’t return to Yingdong anymore, nor could he stay in any one place. He wandered aimlessly. At some point, a lively, almost noisy foreign girl appeared behind him.

“You’re really handsome, the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

“My father says I’m old enough to marry. Will you marry me?”

“Why don’t you ever talk? You always look in that direction. Is there something over there? If you want to go back, just go back. I’ll go with you.”

He withdrew his gaze and ignored her. She persisted despite repeated failures, chattering incessantly. He had never known anyone could be so talkative.

In summer, the grasslands were lush and green. He sat on a hilltop, carving a golden bracelet.

The foreign girl somehow found him and quietly watched him carve. She muttered softly, “What’s this? It’s so small, only a child could wear it.”

His movements paused for a moment. She must be close to giving birth. He wondered if it was a boy or a girl. Was she in pain? Such a delicate person would surely cry. He had always hated to see her cry.

The golden bracelet was finished, and he added two small bells. He decided this would be his final approach to her.

He returned to Huan Shui, and the foreign girl stubbornly followed him. Over time, she guessed what was going on. He had someone he loved, but that person had married and had children with someone else.

The foreign girl felt wronged: “Can’t you look back at me?”

He continued walking, his gaze cold and distant.

Some hearts are small, only big enough to hold one person. His heart was already full, leaving no room for anyone else. Her coquettishness, her studying, her reluctant farewells—all had become a prison.

He would never escape it.

He gave the golden bracelet to Ling Chu. It turned out she had given birth to a beautiful and adorable little girl. But the most beautiful and adorable little girl he had ever seen was already in his memory—when she was four, and he was ten.

Under the moonlight, he carried her home slowly.

The moonlight was gentle, and so was the breeze.

“Will Brother always be good to me?” the little girl asked.

“Yes,” the young man silently answered in his heart.