Chapter 78

After several days of feasting, Nan Yi felt that she had regained enough strength to curse someone out, and decided to confront Zhang Yuehui.

She was filled with resentment, craving an explanation, but Zhang Yuehui still hadn’t come to see her. Rather than sit idly and wait, she chose to take the initiative. She marched over confidently, expecting to immediately curse the liar, but when she saw Zhang Yuehui, she was momentarily speechless.

She had been weathered by hardships, her edges sharp, but he looked exactly the same, his face well-maintained and dignified, exuding the elegance of someone who had been sheltered in comfort, even more dazzling than the disheveled scholar she had met before. This familiar yet unfamiliar face brought back a tidal wave of memories.

The past had a magical quality—no matter what happened in the present, when looking back, it always seemed to be wrapped in a layer of hazy moonlight, beautiful and untouchable.

Finally seeing him, her heart felt a pang. For a moment, she even thought that this wasn’t so bad—at least he was still alive. She had often worried, wondering if he had died on some unmarked battlefield, buried under layer upon layer of earth.

In these chaotic times, survival was the greatest form of luck. And he was not only alive but thriving.

Suddenly, her resentment melted away, and her body felt lighter.

Although she had been wounded, the heavens had still been kind to her, giving her a chance to learn the truth. Otherwise, she might have died without ever knowing.

She lifted her skirts and sat down calmly on the steps, then looked up at him.

“Zhang Yuehui, aren’t you going to say something to me?”

The moment she asked, Zhang Yuehui’s heart shattered.

He was truly worthless. After everything, he had still been avoiding her.

His legs gave way, and he crouched down in front of her, like a child who had done something wrong, his face openly pleading for forgiveness. He cautiously reached out to hold her hand.

At that moment, Song Muchuan was standing in the corner, feeling conflicted.

It was late at night, and he had just intended to leave when he heard the door open.

Such private matters were not appropriate to eavesdrop on, so Song Muchuan immediately turned to leave, but his steps unconsciously slowed down.

After all, he had to hide his steps so that he wouldn’t be noticed—this was the explanation he gave himself in his mind.

The night was quiet, and the sounds from the alley still faintly reached him. As he recited “A gentleman does not listen to impolite words” in his mind, he instinctively pricked up his ears.

“Nan Yi, I was wrong.”

“...I lied to you. When I left Lucheng, I didn’t join the army. Instead, I traveled to various places and established the Gui Lai Tang.”

“You weren’t the scholar who spent all the money from the imperial exam and was too afraid to return home, were you?”

“...No.”

“Then who exactly are you?”

“What else have you been hiding from me?”

Zhang Yuehui spoke bitterly, “My family was wrongfully killed, and I was the only one left alive. I wanted to take revenge but couldn’t find a way. I hated how unfair the world was, so I decided to become its enemy and started this business.”

Nan Yi stared into his eyes, stunned for a moment. “Then... am I part of your revenge against the world?”

Song Muchuan’s steps stopped. He didn’t know why, but his hands trembled violently. Even though there was some distance, he could still hear the sorrow in Nan Yi’s voice.

The stubborn, resilient soul of hers had revealed its softest side. He wanted so badly to protect her from all the world’s harm, but he also knew that he was just an outsider.

Song Muchuan couldn’t listen any longer and quickly left.

That was her forbidden ground. He couldn’t intrude any further. The only thing he could do was give her more healing choices over a wound.

Zhang Yuehui fell into a long silence, unsure of how to answer.

He had prepared many excuses to explain to her, but he never imagined she would ask this.

—That one question seemed to invalidate everything between them and shattered Zhang Yuehui’s hopes. He had thought that if he apologized shamelessly, coaxed her, he could slowly win her back… but had she been thinking like this all along?

It felt like he was watching himself desperately grasping at a handful of sand, an overwhelming sense of helplessness filling his heart.

How should he answer to reveal his true feelings?

If he denied it, would she believe him? He was now a completely untrustworthy liar. He had clung to the warmth she gave him while simultaneously destroying the life she had built, and that was how he had unintentionally hurt her.

She hadn’t been part of his plan, yet had been caught up in the consequences.

He didn’t even have the space to argue.

Nan Yi instead smiled at him, her eyes curving, but there was clearly no smile in them. “It’s okay. Whatever you say now, I can accept.”

“It’s not like that!”

That smile made Zhang Yuehui’s heart tighten, and he immediately denied it, tightly holding Nan Yi’s hand, as if clutching the last lifeline in this world.

She only looked at him淡ly.

He realized that his girl had changed, becoming unbreakable. He didn’t even know when she had started to grow. The things he thought would hurt her merely grazed past her.

What he wanted, however, was more. He wanted her anger, her scolding, some sign that she still cared about him, just like how she cherished the broken bracelet.

He nearly begged as he held her hand: “Let’s not talk about the past, okay? Nan Yi, I know it sounds ridiculous, it was me who left you, and my realization came too late. But now we’ve met again, haven’t we? It’s not too late. We can start over.”

Nan Yi truly thought about Zhang Yuehui’s proposal, and gradually, her thoughts became clearer.

She could forgive him, but it was only a matter of understanding. Forgiving to the point of starting over—she couldn’t do that. Just the thought of such a possibility stirred up a wave of resentment within her.

But she didn’t want to hate him. Hatred, too, was an exhausting emotion. She didn’t want to tire herself out, so she shook her head firmly.

“I can give up everything… Don’t you like Lucheng? We can find a peaceful place in the mountains, build a bigger house, create a new paradise.”

Slowly, Nan Yi pulled her hand out of Zhang Yuehui’s. He was holding it too tightly, and it hurt.

She lowered her eyes to her empty wrist, which still bore the faint mark where the jade bracelet once rested.

Suddenly, Nan Yi felt disheartened. Soon, her skin would match the color of the rest, and all the traces would disappear.

“Because it can’t be found, that’s why it can become paradise. What’s broken is broken. It can never go back.”

In her calm gaze, Zhang Yuehui felt as if he were falling apart. The mask he wore began to peel away, revealing a hint of madness—he had always been a person who valued his dignity, using that dignity to mask his pitifulness. But in front of her, he was nothing but pitiful.

Dressed in fine clothes, looking like a decent man—so what?

“Why can’t we go back?”

He grabbed her shoulder, like a demon trying to break free from chains, desperate to touch the light of the Buddha in the sky. He tried to find an answer in her face, but the night was too dark. Even though he was right in front of her, it felt like there was an insurmountable distance. He couldn’t see anything clearly.

Why? How could they not go back?

“Is it because of Xie Que Shan?!” Zhang Yuehui was truly panicked, and he even began to blurt out words.

“Nan Yi, are you crazy?!” she gasped, shoving him away and shouting at him.

Zhang Yuehui seemed struck, the expression on his face retreating like the receding tide.

He slackened his grip, dejected. Yes, had he gone mad, using Xie Que Shan as a shield at this moment? Was he admitting that he had lost to him?

Absolutely not.

He shouldn’t have rushed it. The mistakes he made, he would make up for. If it didn’t work in one day, then it would take days, mornings and evenings, until she nodded.

Nan Yi hadn’t expected that Zhang Yuehui had formed such long-term thoughts in an instant. But she quickly realized, and from his words, she caught a faint trace of something. She was guilty, but she also knew that everything between her and Xie Que Shan was known to no one.

This might have something to do with why she had been captured by the Gui Lai Tang.

Seeing that Zhang Yuehui had calmed down a bit, Nan Yi asked, “Why did you think I had something to do with Xie Que Shan?”

“Do you have something to do with him?” he asked nervously.

“Of course not.”

Zhang Yuehui sighed in relief upon hearing her answer: “Then I guessed wrong.”

Nan Yi furrowed her brows. “Do you know something?”

She vaguely had an inkling. When she was in prison, Gui Lai Tang had believed she was a part of the Bingzhu Si party and thought she was connected to Xie Que Shan—didn’t that mean they thought Xie Que Shan was part of the Bingzhu Si too?

At the time, Nan Yi had thought it was absurd, but seeing Zhang Yuehui now, she couldn’t be sure. He seemed to have his own reasoning for doing things.

“I don’t know more than you,” Zhang Yuehui avoided answering her question.

Nan Yi, unwilling to let it go, pressed, “But how could you make such a strange guess?”

Zhang Yuehui had no choice but to explain, “The two of you disappeared from Lidu Prefecture on the same day, and afterward, he went back to Lidu and informed the Yucheng Army of their location, regaining Wan Yan Jun’s trust, while you went to the Yucheng Army to get them to retreat, and in the end, they avoided a disaster. From the results, your cooperation was seamless. I thought you had planned it together in advance.”

Nan Yi had never looked at this situation from such a detailed perspective. She vaguely felt like she had missed some important clue… but as she realized, another obvious thing struck her.

Her voice trembled: “You know the Yucheng Army is still alive?”

“Yes.”

Nan Yi’s gaze toward Zhang Yuehui shifted to one of fear—how could he know such a secret? Was the Yucheng Army still safe?

Zhang Yuehui thought Nan Yi was afraid that his connection to the Yucheng Army would put her in danger, and hurriedly reassured her: “I will never harm you.”

Nan Yi’s voice suddenly rose: “Then you’re okay with hurting others?”

Zhang Yuehui was speechless.

“You didn’t sell the Yucheng Army’s information to anyone, did you?”

Well… he had quietly leaked it to Gusha, but that didn’t count as selling, right? He hadn’t taken money, and in fact, he’d even paid for some medical expenses.

“No,” Zhang Yuehui answered firmly. “I won’t put you in danger.”

Nan Yi was still angry. It was only now that she finally equated Zhang Yuehui with that cunning head of Gui Lai Tang, the information merchant who profited from war.

Everything around her reminded her that Zhang Yuehui was someone she had never truly understood.

“I can’t control you. I can only hope you keep your word,” Nan Yi said, preparing to stand and end this conversation. “I’m leaving.”

Zhang Yuehui anxiously blocked her path: “Nan Yi!”

All the words he had, however, were stuck in his throat.

They silently stared at each other, their shadows unmoving on the ground.

Even the moon seemed to hold its breath.

Two years of acquaintance, three years of separation—during the years when she went from innocence to the beginnings of love, it was all because of him. She appeared rational, carefree, and strong. But she hid a question she never asked, a fear in her heart—that those unspoken yet well-understood feelings might be misplaced.

But what if it was all a mistake from the very start?

“Zhang Yuehui, when you gave me that bracelet back then, what did it mean?”

Once the question was asked, the right or wrong of the answer didn’t matter anymore.

Zhang Yuehui couldn’t answer. Back then, he didn’t dare speak the truth of leaving, wanting her to remember him but also wanting to send her away—such a despicable thought.

In the maddening silence, Nan Yi slowly revealed a smile: “No need to say it, I understand now.”

Nan Yi smiled calmly, but that smile pierced into Zhang Yuehui’s heart.

“You should have said goodbye to me three years ago. If you had, I wouldn’t have harbored foolish thoughts, wouldn’t have wanted to approach you, and then there wouldn’t have been all these subsequent events… The only thing you did wrong was this.”

Tears lingered on the brink of falling from Nan Yi’s eyes, and she felt her carefully maintained smile begin to collapse. She forced herself to focus on the half-blooming flower bud on the wall, the soft moonlight spilling onto it, making it beautifully serene.

When she liked someone, she wanted to present everything good she saw before them. She had a small box, filled with dried flowers she had collected, beautiful stones she picked from the river, a lovely fallen leaf, and a few cotton tufts that had fallen from the quilt. Everything she observed and appreciated throughout the year, she had wanted to leave a trace of, to share with that person when they reunited.

But now, as she looked at the spring flowers, she could only feel that their beauty belonged solely to her.