Chapter 99

On this night of waiting, the moonlight was as cold as ice, casting a pale white glow over the eaves and rooftops.

Nan Yi was filled with an intense unease, stemming from both the uncertain fate of Song Mukuai and Xie Que Shan’s strange behavior.

She was so anxious that she couldn’t stop trembling, pacing back and forth in the room.

She didn’t know whether to trust her own intuition or the situation Xie Que Shan had shown her. They had clearly agreed not to lie. She kept feeling that Xie Que Shan was about to abandon her—perhaps for survival, or perhaps because he had chosen death.

Madam Gantang sighed and looked at Tang Rong.

“Tang Rong, help her. She can’t be kept here.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Tang Rong would always follow her orders.

The strategy was simple: Tang Rong, holding his sword, directly broke out, adopting a “fish dies, net breaks” attitude. The guards didn’t expect such fierce resistance from the people inside. The situation quickly became chaotic, but they still managed to block Tang Rong and locked the yard gate with three heavy locks.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Nanyi climbed over the yard wall and escaped.

She didn’t go anywhere else, knowing that if her actions were reckless, it would cause more trouble. Outside, the Bingchu Division still had Liang Da and Jiuniang keeping watch, and they would surely act quickly to move anything of importance and minimize the damage.

She wasn’t yet very skilled within the Bingchu Division’s system, so going there wouldn’t be of much use. Her advantage was being inconspicuous and agile, and her goal was clear. She stayed at Wangxuewu for Xie Que Shan; she didn’t believe he would truly stand by and do nothing. She had told him before that if he wasn’t a traitor, she would be his companion. If she had been wrong and misjudged him, at the very least, she might learn something, which was better than waiting around.

She quietly snuck into Xie Que Shan’s room and hid in the wardrobe.

Xie Que Shan had just changed into his night clothes and was about to go out. As he stepped toward the door, his gaze inadvertently landed on the flowers on the low wall in the yard, and he paused.

Nanyi, peering through the crack in the wardrobe, felt nervous. She had tried her best to stay silent, but had she been noticed by Xie Que Shan?

However, Xie Que Shan didn’t turn back. He stood there, his back looking desolate.

The spring flowers had not yet wilted and were still blooming lushly. Even in this tense moment, he couldn’t help but stop and take another look.

That was enough—a single glance from a distance. He was glad that he hadn’t become too entangled with her. In the past, he had indulged in these tender moments, almost forgetting the role he should play. He should be the villain, or perhaps a dead man.

He had no right to speak of spring flowers and autumn moons.

Now, it was better this way: cutting off everything cleanly and decisively.

Suddenly, Xie Que Shan’s ears twitched, and he seemed to hear something. His brows furrowed, and he immediately turned back to the room, quickly stripping off his clothes.

He hastily kicked his nightwear under the bed and heard a knock on the door. Yawning, Xie Que Shan went to open it.

“General Gusha?”

Looking outside, he saw the yard filled with soldiers. Xie Que Shan, now slightly awake, was puzzled. “What’s all this commotion for?”

Gusha pushed his way into the room, sizing up Xie Que Shan with a look of arrogance, unhidden.

“You’ve gone to bed this early?”

Xie Que Shan, showing some irritation, responded, “What, should I report this to you too?”

Gusha pretended to be friendly, slinging his arm around Xie Que Shan’s shoulders and whispering mysteriously, “It’s not like that. I have an urgent matter, and I need the young master’s help. That’s why I’m disturbing you so late.”

Xie Que Shan crossed his arms, slightly impatient. “Thank you for the favor, but... I’m just a nobody. How could I be of any help to you?”

Xie Que Shan knew very well that his pretense couldn’t last much longer.

Asking him for help? Ridiculous.

All these soldiers were here to drag him to the execution ground.

The worst part was that Gusha had arrived too quickly, and he still didn’t know what had happened at the shipyard or what had become of Song Mu Chuan. He hadn’t even had time to act, and now he was already in a very passive situation.

“They caught a big shot from the Bingchu Division at the shipyard—someone who specifically requires you to personally interrogate.”

The playful smile on Gusha’s face had disappeared, now replaced with a hint of dominance.

Today, he would drag Xie Que Shan away, no matter what.

He needed to keep a tight hold on Xie Que Shan and prevent him from making any small moves. He intended to root out all the spies and undercover agents, ensuring that the city of Lidu would never again be infested with pests.

Xie Que Shan knew there was no way out. Refusing again would only seem suspicious. He said, “You’ll have to let me change into something more suitable for going out.”

Gusha glanced around the room and, seeing no one else, gestured for him to proceed.

Nanyi, hiding in the wardrobe and listening, was already on edge—why did Gusha want to take Xie Que Shan? What had he found out at the shipyard? Was Xie Que Shan also in danger?

Xie Que Shan returned to the inner room and closed the door. He knew this was just a useless delay. Once he stepped out that door, his fate would no longer be in his hands. He had already made up his mind today. Since Gusha had come for him, it revealed one thing: Gusha still hadn’t found the actual evidence that Song Mu Chuan was the leader of the Bingchu Division.

No matter what, he had to clear the way for Song Mu Chuan.

A gentleman must dress properly—this might be the last time he wore these clothes, so he needed to wear them properly.

Xie Que Shan opened the wardrobe, and his gaze suddenly froze.

Nanyi had done her best to shrink into the pile of clothes, letting the shadows cover her, but such a large figure couldn’t be hidden with just a glance.

If she was discovered, then so be it. Nanyi panicked for only a moment before quickly calming down. Her big, clear eyes locked onto Xie Que Shan.

He had indeed not noticed when she had entered.

In this silent, tragic moment, seeing her, he was filled with mixed emotions—somewhat relieved but also filled with endless sorrow.

Fate had still shown him a shred of mercy, though it was but a tiny bit, granting him a brief moment of comfort. He quietly gazed at her—those brows, that face—he had seen it countless times and still felt it was never enough. He was like a prisoner about to face execution, greedily capturing the beauty of the world in his eyes just before his death, as though it would help him endure the journey to the afterlife, overcome the soup of oblivion, and leave behind something indelible.

But all immortality in this world was nothing more than human imagination and delusion.

Xie Que Shan did nothing. He looked away, grabbed his clothes, and silently closed the wardrobe door.

Just as he turned to leave, the hem of his pants was tightly grasped by a hand.

The wardrobe door opened again, and Nan Yi stubbornly looked at Xie Que Shan, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, “Tell me what to do.”

Her voice was so faint it seemed to rise to the surface like a bubble before dissipating with a soft pop, as though it had never existed.

Xie Que Shan found it amusing. Wasn’t she supposed to be someone who knew how to read a situation, who understood the pros and cons? He was clearly standing against her, and he had been direct in his words, yet she still came to ask him what she should do?

Gu Sha was right outside. As soon as Xie Que Shan made a sound, Nan Yi was finished. Did she trust him that much?

Yes, she still trusted him. Nothing was more striking than this kind of unconditional trust.

In the midst of turbulent waves, she insisted on facing them with him.

He could have turned and walked away, but his soul was held in place.

He couldn’t help but turn back to look at her, feeling a sense of disorientation. She seemed like the same little thief in the snow who had to choose between life and death, her eyes filled with an indomitable determination to force a way out of the dead-end he had drawn.

Her resolve infected him, and it stirred a faint hope and longing inside him.

Fine, if she insisted on coming, then he would show her the way.

Xie Que Shan steeled himself, quickly picking up the pen on the table and writing a line in small script on a piece of paper. He then crouched down, balled the note up, and shoved it into Nan Yi’s hand.

“Go find Zhang Yuehui and show this to him.”

Xie Que Shan thought that would be enough, but Nan Yi still hadn’t let go of him.

She wanted to speak but was afraid the sound might be heard outside. In a hurry, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face even closer.

The candlelight filtered through the mosquito netting, casting a dim shadow on their faces. At this distance, neither of them could escape; they had to look each other in the eye and be honest.

Nan Yi asked seriously, “Tell me, are you trying to save Song Muchen?”

Xie Que Shan furrowed his brows, unwilling to answer, determined to leave.

But Nan Yi, stubborn as ever, refused to let go. She needed him to answer, and she felt it was important. It was just as important as whatever she was about to do.

“You have to tell me the truth, only then can I act.”

He had always been like this—his intentions hidden, unwilling to speak them out loud. If she guessed them, he didn’t mind, and sometimes even felt a little pleased.

She thought he was being awkward. It really wasn’t necessary for him to be so awkward. She could be the one he trusted.

The book said that “great music is almost silent, and great forms are shapeless,” but she was just an ordinary person. She couldn’t comprehend this grand, self-forgetful state. What she needed was to hear his definitive words, to hear him speak his intentions aloud.

He had walked this lonely path for so long, lighting up the dark nights for so many people, but as a human, why should he sacrifice more than anyone else? If no one ever knew what he had done, it would be unfair. She wanted to be the one person in this world who saw him.

They had promised not to lie.

She would keep asking, again and again, until he told her the truth.

Xie Que Shan could no longer resist Nan Yi. Once he met her eyes, he began to lose ground. Just earlier, he had been able to cover his intentions boldly in front of Second Sister, but now she was pressing him so tightly.

He said it, and it felt like something heavy inside him lifted as well.

“Yes, I want to save Song Muchen.”

He no longer had to face death alone. In this world, there was at least one person who knew what he was trying to do. Even if he died, someone would know why he died.

Humans are creatures that easily move from frugality to extravagance but find it hard to go from extravagance to frugality. Before she appeared, he had thought that such an understanding was a burden. But now, with her here, he was melting, reshaping, and unknowingly becoming a part of her life that he could no longer live without.

His stern face relaxed for the first time that night, and Xie Que Shan suddenly smiled, gently rubbing Nan Yi’s face.

For some reason, that simple gesture made tears well up in Nan Yi’s eyes. She could no longer hold him back; she could only watch as he quickly put on his clothes.

She opened her mouth and, before he turned away, urgently said three words—”Don’t die.”

No sound, only her lips moving.

He didn’t respond, he simply left. After the sounds of footsteps outside faded away, Nan Yi crawled out of the wardrobe. She glanced at the paper in her hand, where the words “leaked fish” were written. She didn’t understand what it meant or what good finding Zhang Yuehui would do, but since it was something Xie Que Shan wanted her to do, she felt a sudden sense of reassurance.

She believed that everything he did had a back-up plan, that he was capable of anything.

But what she didn’t know was that the path Xie Que Shan had shown her was not as secure as he made it seem. He knew she wouldn’t give up, that she wouldn’t sit idly by, so he had sent her to Zhang Yuehui. Whether or not Zhang Yuehui was willing to help him didn’t matter; at least Nan Yi wouldn’t be at risk.