Chapter 61

At this moment, Xie Que Shan suddenly brought up a distant memory.

“When I was a boy, my mother and I fled Lan Prefecture, wandering as exiles. Along the way, we encountered a group of mountain bandits. To avoid them, we hid in an empty tiger’s den. One of the bandits found us, but he didn’t sound the alarm. He let us go. I was grateful to him at the time… until later, when I accidentally learned the truth. He had merely made a bet with his companions—betting on whether the tiger, upon returning to its den, would eat the woman first or the boy.”

Nan Yi looked into his eyes.

Eyes filled with both cruelty and sorrow—how could such contradictory emotions coexist in one person’s gaze?

She faintly grasped the implication behind his words. Even if he didn’t kill people himself, in this world, there were countless ways to die.

Wolves and tigers lurked everywhere, and she, as she was now, had no bargaining chips for survival.

Trembling, she asked, “Is this how you plan to treat me?”

“I wanted to kill you,” he murmured. “I once thought that your life was a gift from me, one I could take back at any moment. Yet every time, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Nan Yi’s mind buzzed. In an instant, it was as though she could see silent lightning in the distance, countless fleeting images flashing before her eyes.

With his exceptional skills, how could her clumsy attack have so precisely struck his chest? Unless… he had let down his guard on purpose.

But why would he?

A possible answer seemed to emerge, clear as day.

“What is it that surpasses pity?” His question seemed directed both at her and at himself.

In that moment, her mind wavered between confusion and clarity, as though she had brushed up against the boundary of a forbidden zone. Beyond that boundary lay utter darkness. She dared not step forward, nor even look. She could only follow his lead, dazedly asking, “What is it?”

Their breaths intertwined, their gazes locked.

Xie Que Shan raised a hand to cradle Nan Yi’s cheek. For the first time, his palm felt cold.

And then, his kiss fell upon her.

With a deafening roar, the long-delayed thunder arrived. All pretense was torn away, and the monstrous desires, like beasts, surged through the fissure.

At first, the kiss was light, like a dragonfly skimming the surface, their breaths mingling and aligning in rhythm. Then, as she realized what was happening, she struggled fiercely, her movements brushing against the wound on his chest. Fresh blood oozed from the torn injury.

It was as though the pain had awakened some primal, aggressive instinct in him. His kiss abruptly grew fervent, as though he wished to consume her whole.

Their tongues intertwined, carrying the taste of iron and blood. Resistance dissolved into intimacy.

The wind howled against the wooden door, rumbling incessantly. In the distance, black mountains and white waters blurred together, while above them, half the sky remained exposed.

Forced to tilt her head back in response to his relentless advances, she felt like a puppet in his arms, controlled by his strings. Inch by inch, she was invaded, with nowhere to escape. At last, driven to desperation, she clumsily and recklessly bit his lip.

He released her lips with a hiss of pain, panting heavily.

“Xie Que Shan! You bastard!”

A vivid blush spread across her cheeks, equal parts anger and flustered embarrassment. For hadn’t she, too, been momentarily lost in the depths of that kiss?

Her mind was in chaos, and all she could do was put up a front, cursing him.

But he remained utterly unmoved, simply looking into her eyes. She, too, could clearly see his gaze from such close proximity. For a moment, she had the illusion that it was like the afterglow of the setting sun falling upon the waves of the sea, golden light dancing—a breathtaking beauty. Yet, in the next instant, night descended, and that sea once again became a deep abyss.

Xie Que Shan spoke in a low voice: “Nan Yi, you must understand—human nature is inherently cruel. A man’s love for a woman is equally cheap.”

He was convincing himself as well.

Feelings between a man and a woman were nothing more than selfish desires, coming in torrents and leaving just as swiftly. It was the moon in the water, a flower in the mirror—beautiful yet useless. In these chaotic times, such things could only become burdens.

He released her and took a step back.

His tone carried pity, devoid of any lingering passion: “In your next life, if you are reborn, be a wild goose, not a blade of grass.”

She finally understood. The reason he had so openly displayed these hidden, unspoken emotions was that this secret would be buried forever with her death.

He would not kill her with his own hands—this stemmed from that tiny shred of compassion he still held. But he also would not let her live—that was his cold rationality.

“Xie Que Shan, don’t do this to me.”

She was truly panicking now. When a man confesses his love for you yet is still prepared to kill you, it can only mean one thing: certain death.

She couldn’t help but plead weakly. That was just who she was—in any inescapable deadlock, as long as she could find even the smallest crack, she would fight desperately to wriggle through.

Even if that crack was nothing more than Xie Que Shan’s pity.

“I won’t run anymore, I swear… I’m clever—I can help you with so many things. Please forgive me just this once… The consequences aren’t that severe now, are they? We can just pretend none of this ever happened,” she said, her words growing more frantic and incoherent as she went on. “I can stay by your side, I can be your—”

Be his what? His mistress? His concubine?

The rest of the words got caught in her throat. She couldn’t say them out loud.

At last, she realized that some boundaries must transcend life and death—such as love and dignity.

Among the countless pages she had practiced writing over and over were lessons he had taught her: honor, propriety, and integrity. In this moment, they stopped her from uttering another word.

He looked at her quietly for a few seconds, and in his eyes flashed a fleeting anger. He hoped she wouldn’t say it, because the genuine, fleeting moments of connection between their souls would be sullied and dragged into the mud by her words. Yet, at the same time, a perverse part of him wished she would say it.

She remained silent. Her final chance was stuck in her throat, unable to take form.

Xie Que Shan turned and left without looking back.

The wooden door slammed shut, and the cage became a true prison.

The moment he left, she was abandoned in this desolate cabin. Though she was still alive, he had already sentenced her to death. She could only wait helplessly, watching her life drain away in the cold winter until she froze to death.

She tried to shake the bars on the window, but this hunting cabin had been built to withstand wolf packs, and its sturdiness far exceeded her expectations.

For a brief moment, the terror of death overwhelmed all her thoughts. Nan Yi screamed hysterically toward the window, “Xie Que Shan! Don’t go! Xie Que Shan—how dare you! How dare you!”

Her cries disappeared into the void, without even the faintest ripple in response. The sound of hoofbeats grew fainter and fainter; he was truly gone.

“I hate you!”

She shouted in despair at the hoofprints left on the ground, tears streaming down her face.

But the cold wind swept through, scattering her cries into nothingness. The towering mountains remained unmoved, the vast earth unchanged, with no room for a speck of dust like her.

There was nothing she could do.

She had been dragged into all of this because of him. He had tied her up, kissed her, and now abandoned her, turning her into the most pitiful and laughable plaything in the world. She hated him—hated his selfishness and domineering cruelty, hated his heartlessness. But more than anything, she hated the warmth and hope he had once given her, only to cruelly take it all back.

Was this truly the point of no return?

At last, she believed it. He was a monster.

________________________________________

That day, Xu Kou Yue once again endured Wan Yan Jun’s thunderous rage. Things had not gone well outside, and he took his anger out on her. One misstep was enough to incur his wrath.

Right before her eyes, Wan Yan Jun burned the books she had brought with her, claiming they were Han Chinese books and that she cherished them because she harbored disloyalty.

But those books were the ones he had magnanimously allowed her to bring before their departure. Back then, he had been in a good mood and had looked kindly upon her. He had even gone out of his way to humor her, saying, “The journey will be dull. Don’t you enjoy reading? Bring more books to pass the time.”

Xu Kou Yue was heartbroken. She would rather he hit her. Physical pain was easier to endure than this emotional torment. Yet, he would never leave visible marks on her body. He wanted her to remain flawless, so he preferred to torture her in other ways. He was a calculating man, skilled at finding and exploiting people’s weaknesses.

When he burned her books, she didn’t dare stop him. If she appeared too distraught, he would burn them all the more fervently, and even the few hidden in her room would not survive.

All she could do was watch helplessly. When he finally left, she hurried over to gather the ashes. She couldn’t bear to discard them in a corner or let the wind scatter them, so she dug a small pit in the backyard and buried them there.

The backyard had a small, rarely-used gate. Suddenly, there came an urgent knock on the door. Xu Kou Yue hesitated but went to open it.

To her shock, it was Xie Que Shan, covered in blood and filth, who had been missing for days.

He was utterly exhausted, leaning against the doorframe just to stay upright. “Tell Wan Yan Jun… the Yu City army is camped at the abandoned Taoist temple on Tiger Kneel Mountain.”

With these words, he collapsed. Xu Kou Yue, startled, rushed to catch him as his full weight fell onto her shoulders.

She froze for a few seconds. She had no idea how long he had wandered in the mountains, but his body was icy, like a block of stone. Her hand felt something sticky, and when she looked down, her palm was covered in blood.

Her voice trembled involuntarily as she shouted, “Someone, come quickly!”

The usually quiet residence was in chaos today, with maids and servants hurrying in and out in a flurry of activity.

Xie Que Shan’s wounds had damaged his internal organs, and he had lost a significant amount of blood. Combined with prolonged exposure to the cold while trekking through the mountains, his body had succumbed to hypothermia and exhaustion. The best doctors in the city had been summoned, and they took turns trying every method they knew. Miraculously, they managed to snatch him back from the jaws of death.

By evening, Xie Que Shan briefly regained consciousness and spoke a few words with Wan Yan Jun in his room. When Wan Yan Jun emerged, he was frowning deeply.

At that moment, Hu Sha arrived in haste. He had just remembered something crucial: the sword tassel found clutched in the dead dancer’s hand belonged to Xie Que Shan!