Psst! We're moving!
No Thought
Xie Que Shan disembarked from the boat and walked toward them.
Nan Yi quickly dismounted. Song Mu Chuan reached out to help her, but Xie Que Shan beat him to it.
Xie Que Shan’s movements were not gentle; he grabbed her and pulled her to his side.
Song Mu Chuan’s hand hung in the air, and he withdrew it, understanding the situation.
“Get on the boat first,” Xie Que Shan commanded, his gaze lingering on Song Mu Chuan.
Nan Yi hesitated. Clearly, the two men were old acquaintances, and they didn’t seem like enemies. However, after what happened with Pang Yu, she feared Xie Que Shan might resort to violence.
After a moment’s thought, she walked up and unstrapped the sword from Xie Que Shan’s waist.
Xie Que Shan stared at her in disbelief.
Nan Yi held the sword tightly and quickly said, “You two talk it over. I’ll go wait for you on the boat.”
After watching Nan Yi board the boat, Song Mu Chuan finally looked at Xie Que Shan without avoiding his gaze.
There seemed to be a tension between them, like a few taut strings; whoever let go first would be struck by the other. But if neither let go, the strings would painfully press against their fingers.
It was Song Mu Chuan who let go first.
He smiled faintly, though the smile was pale. “Xie Chao’en, my parents are both dead.”
Xie Que Shan’s eyes immediately reddened. He hadn’t expected that after so many years, the first words Song Mu Chuan would say to him would be like this. Song Mu Chuan—he knew that the man was capable of killing not just the body, but the heart as well.
In the past, in Tokyo City, Xie Que Shan did not have his own home and had been staying at Song Mu Chuan’s house.
The Song elders treated him like their own son, showing him meticulous care, allowing this rebellious “unfilial son” to live well and with dignity in Tokyo City.
He had even shamelessly said that he would treat the Song elders as his own parents and support them.
Why couldn’t they wait for him? Why did they have to die?
He never even had the chance to kneel before them and hear them scold him as a traitor and a rebel.
Xie Que Shan tried hard to control the trembling in his body. The strings in Song Mu Chuan’s hands hit him perfectly, and at this moment, he was covered in blood, battered and bruised.
But he could not show pain, could not show weakness.
With his eyes bloodshot, he gritted out a few words at Song Mu Chuan: “Who told you to come to Lidu Mansion?”
“We’ve arrived as we were walking,” Song Mu Chuan replied.
“Get out! Or I’ll kill you—just like I killed Pang Yu!”
Song Mu Chuan’s eyes also reddened. His fingers slowly clenched under his sleeves.
He had read a few lines about Pang Yu’s death in the reports, saying he had been killed by the soldiers of Qi. He did not dare consider the possibility that it could be true; he had believed that Xie Que Shan would not do such a thing. But when Xie Que Shan admitted it himself, the last shred of hope in his heart was shattered.
“Chao’en, I should have died that day during the Spring Turmoil. Heaven let me live for six more years, just so that you and I could reunite and reach a conclusion about life and death.”
Xie Que Shan knew well that before the Spring Turmoil, Song Mu Chuan had knelt in front of Wende Hall for seven days for him, almost crippling his legs and sacrificing half his life.
He had also heard that Song Mu Chuan had exiled himself and traveled far away from home. He didn’t dare to ask about his situation deliberately—he had brought this upon himself.
In his heart, he didn’t want to reunite with these old friends.
He hoped they were weak, afraid, like those who surrendered without a fight, but they were not like that.
Song Mu Chuan spoke the same words as Pang Yu, a conclusion about life and death—either you die, or I die. When they met again, they were bound to be enemies.
Xie Que Shan had no more words. Before his emotions could overwhelm him, he turned and walked away.
He lifted the curtain and stepped into the cabin, drawing out the sword Nan Yi was holding.
Nan Yi was startled. “What are you going to do?”
Xie Que Shan raised his hand and cut the rope tying a small boat next to them.
That small boat had been left by Song Mu Chuan at the dock. It drifted away, carried by the swift river currents, quickly leaving the shore.
He stood on the boat’s edge, gazing coldly at Song Mu Chuan, and left him with one final sentence: “If it’s water you shouldn’t wade through, don’t wade through it.”
Song Mu Chuan stood on the riverbank, watching the two small boats drift away in turn.
By the river, only he remained, standing alone.
•
On the river, the bright moon rose, and the mountains faded into the darkness.
Inside the small boat, the atmosphere was oppressive.
Xie Que Shan’s face remained stern, and Nan Yi didn’t dare move. The boat drifted downstream by itself, without anyone paddling. It wasn’t long before it bumped into the shore.
“Young Master... should I row the boat?” Nan Yi asked.
Xie Que Shan raised his eyes, his gaze filled with an inexplicable fury, as if he could see right through her. “Didn’t Xie Sui’an tell you who Song Mu Chuan is? Why did you get close to him?”
Nan Yi was taken aback. “That’s Song Mu Chuan?”
Xie Que Shan furrowed his brow.
Nan Yi quickly added, “He only told me his name is Song Yushu... I accidentally saved him twice, and today he saved me by accident...”
Xie Que Shan’s mind rang, and he could no longer hear what Nan Yi was saying. Song Yushu, Song Yushu... These two names had countless possible pronunciations, but he immediately realized that it was “Yushu,” meaning “give me forgiveness.” This was the name he had given himself.
The last string in his heart was still struck by him.
It was like a wound, deep and raw.
If there was still one person left in this world who wanted to save him, it must be Song Mu Chuan.
But he had already made his heart as hard as rock.
Suddenly, a cold touch brushed against his cheek. He lowered his eyes to see Nan Yi’s fingers.
Nan Yi seemed to have noticed that Xie Que Shan was crying. She couldn’t believe it and cautiously reached out to touch him. Just as she tried to pull her hand back, he grabbed it firmly.
He tightly held her hand, his palm gently brushing over her knuckles, silently wiping away the tear stains.
But Nan Yi clearly felt the wetness on his hand.
She didn’t dare move or speak, feeling as though she had glimpsed Xie Que Shan’s hidden vulnerability.
At that moment, the boat was caught by the current, causing it to turn around, and they drifted off course. Their positions reversed.
He faced away from the current, with the outside world moving forward. It was a dangerous posture, but he no longer cared where the boat was drifting. This was his sudden whim, something he could only release under the unknown night sky.
After a long silence, he seemed to be lost in thought, still not letting go of her hand.
This evidence of tears, as long as it was held tightly in his hand, would not be opened, would not be discovered. It was as if, by doing so, he would never be weak again.
Strangely, Nan Yi felt a pang of heartache for Xie Que Shan.
She tried to change the topic to break the oppressive atmosphere. “Why did you come to Tiger Kneeling Mountain?”
“Second Sister has returned home, but you haven’t.” He finally answered, his tone brief, his voice tired.
“I was being chased, and I was too focused on escaping. In the end, I lost track of Lady Gantang,” she said voluntarily.
“Did you find nothing?”
“No... but I did manage to shake off those pursuers!” She tried to make her tone sound lighter.
Xie Que Shan didn’t respond, his gaze finally focused, and he looked at her deeply. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized she might have said too much.
If he were to press for more details, asking how she managed to shake off the pursuers... wouldn’t he discover where Lady Gantang was hiding?
But she immediately regained her confidence.
She had simply hidden in a tree, using her sleeve arrow to create a disturbance and lead the pursuers away. As for who the pursuers encountered or who took care of them, what did that have to do with her?
She left no trace, and if asked, she would just say she didn’t know.
However, Xie Que Shan didn’t ask. He only smiled softly and finally released her hand.
“You’ve learned some skills.”
His words, though seeming like praise, still sent a chill down Nan Yi’s spine. She wasn’t sure what he meant.
She pretended to act casually as she fiddled with the sleeve arrow in her hand, adding a tone of flattery, “It’s all thanks to the sleeve arrows you gave me, Young Master!”
He didn’t respond. His gaze was like a damp southern breeze, settling on her, low and full of twists. “Do you know why I chose you?”
Nan Yi was taken aback. “Why?”
“Because you want to live, and you make things simple,” he sighed deeply. “I don’t understand why so many people in this world seem to want to die.”
Nan Yi fell silent. She knew his thoughts were still heavy with the matter of Song Mu Chuan.
She vaguely sensed that he wanted to save some people, even though he was on the side of the Qi soldiers. He didn’t want his loved ones to die.
But that was a secret. On this small boat, they shared a secret that would forever remain buried in their hearts.
Once they reached the shore, the lines between friend and foe would be clearly drawn.
The small boat rocked gently, drifting with the moonlight.
It was hard to tell how long had passed, but finally, they neared the dock.
Nan Yi had already fallen asleep, leaning against Xie Que Shan. He hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he didn’t wake her. Instead, he picked her up and carried her off the boat.
Nan Yi, in a dazed half-sleep, felt the swaying beneath her, as though floating among the clouds.
“Are we going home?” she murmured softly, her voice like a fog that couldn’t be unraveled.
“Mm,” he replied.