BXG - 116

◎Snowy Night◎

Two guards armed with swords escorted Zhou Tan back to the imperial prison.

The guard surnamed Fang carried blood-stained instruments, glancing back at the white-robed prisoner being supported by a beautiful woman in a crimson cloak. He muttered to his companion, “Brother Liu, isn’t it strange? In all my years here, I’ve never seen anyone leave the Three Departments’ prison intact. And look at him—he even has a beauty by his side…”

Brother Liu glanced back. The prisoner, clad in white, leaned heavily on the woman, their progress slow and deliberate.

After tonight’s interrogation, the woman had appeared unexpectedly and insisted on accompanying Zhou Tan back, despite the rules. Only the presence of two imperial guards bearing the Emperor’s token allowed this breach of protocol.

Brother Liu warned, “Fang, be careful what you say. Do you know who this man is?”

Fang fell silent. After a few more words from Brother Liu, he exclaimed in surprise, “Ah, could it be…?”

Brother Liu shook his head. “His Majesty is too soft-hearted. An edict was just issued—Zhou Tan will be released tomorrow and sent back to his hometown.”

Fang grumbled, “There are plenty who wish him dead. This villain deserves every ounce of suffering he’s endured.”

Far behind them, their voices were swallowed by the snow-covered path and the red walls of the prison.

Zhou Tan wore Song Shixuan’s crane cloak once more, while Qu You draped her own crimson cape over him. Together, they walked slowly through the dim, snowy night.

The snow had stopped falling, leaving deep drifts under a bright moon that seemed almost otherworldly.

Qu You clutched Zhou Tan’s cold hand tightly. His steps were unsteady after tonight’s ordeal, and he leaned heavily on her.

Wrapped in the white crane cloak, Zhou Tan held her close, saying nothing for a long time.

A streak of blood still lingered at the corner of his lips, stark against his pale face.

Halfway along the path, Qu You finally broke the silence. “Ziqian simply couldn’t believe… that someone like you exists in this world.”

Zhou Tan turned to look at her, his amber eyes devoid of emotion.

Qu You continued, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Neither could I. Before meeting you, I never dared to imagine such a person.”

This felt like the longest journey of her life. Through blurred vision, she saw flashes of memories—a young palace maid kneeling in thin robes beside a lotus-patterned copper rain jar, clutching a crane cloak tightly as she gazed up with eyes as clear as the moon.

Even now, looking back, Qu You could see the girl praying silently in the shadow of the palace wall.

Zhou Tan reached out weakly to wipe her tears, his voice strained but gentle. “Don’t cry.”

Trying to lift her spirits, he forced a smile despite his pain. “Have you read my poems in the distant future?”

Qu You nodded fervently. “Yes, I’ve read every single one.”

Zhou Tan closed his eyes briefly, seemingly satisfied. “You once asked why I didn’t care how history would record me. Now you understand—the annals can deceive. But poetry doesn’t lie. When you read them, you find the truth.”

He glanced behind them, speaking softly. “Don’t grieve for me. Ziqian is still too young. One day, he’ll see the truth.”

Standing amidst the snow, Qu You watched as Zhou Tan disappeared into the dark recesses of the prison, a fleeting illusion of loss.

The world around her was silent, save for the faint sound of melting snowflakes.

One of the guards approached hesitantly. “Madam… let me escort you home.”

Qu You seemed not to hear, turning instead to see the trembling figure of the young maid still standing by the rain jar.

The guard began to speak again but was stopped by his companion, who signaled for them to retreat. Silently, they withdrew.

Alone, Qu You walked toward the rain jar, her footsteps crunching softly in the thick snow.

The maid looked up, her face pale as freshly fallen snow.

Her voice quivered. “Did my wishes… come true?”

Qu You smiled. “Your longing for family reunion, friends’ well-being, lifelong pride… and spending eternity by his side—all have been fulfilled.”

The maid, A Lian, stopped trembling and gave a radiant smile. “Truly? That’s… wonderful.”

In the wind, the red silk ribbon fluttered faintly.

“His wife lives safely and steadfastly, holding true to herself. His wishes… have all come true as well.”

But the gods above are both merciful and merciless, never granting a perfect ending.

Following the red ribbon, Qu You heard imagined voices in the stillness.

—”Don’t fall ill anymore… I’d bear your sickness, sacrifice my youth, and die early for you.”

—”I’d dedicate myself entirely, working tirelessly until death.”

She transformed into a butterfly, finally achieving the freedom she had longed for. She glimpsed his name in the annals of history—but the words were distorted, fragmented, shattered like the bloody spring nights he had endured alone in the prison years ago.

The passageway was pitch-black; the illusions had vanished.

Qu You stumbled forward, gripping the wall for support, each step bringing excruciating pain akin to lingchi torture.

From afar, the guards heard heart-wrenching sobs echoing through the darkness.

Qu You clutched her chest, struggling to breathe. The panic of loss tightened around her heart, suffocating and unyielding.

For the first time since arriving here, she let her emotions pour forth without restraint.

More voices surged toward her.

“Don’t abandon your body and health for me! Across lifetimes, you’ve done so much for me… But I’m powerless. The river of history is vast—I can never change it, never save you!”

Meteors streaked from the top of the city walls.

A version of herself, clad in turquoise, looked up dazedly from dusty volumes of historical records. Sunlight streamed through a small window, illuminating dancing dust motes.

Row upon row of bookshelves stretched endlessly, burying her in obscurity.

The wind turned pages, and she reached out futilely, trying to scrape away the words. Despite her efforts, she achieved nothing.

Apricot blossoms drifted through the void, settling in her hair. She heard herself make a solemn vow.

“I will find a way to restore the justice that belongs to you.”

“I will exhaust myself for you, living and dying… as long as we remain together in the annals of history.”

She saw herself, bloodied, standing atop Bianjing’s city gate. In her past life, she had leapt from here, utterly despairing, finding only a shred of freedom in death.

Now, looking again, the woman’s eyes burned with defiant fire.

“You still have unfinished business, remember?”

“Don’t die. Live well.”

When they passed Qingxi again, Zhou Tan didn’t write the elegy.

Under wide skies and high clouds, Ren family, Qu family, Gao Yunyue, Su Chaoci hiding in the shadows, Ai Di Sheng, Zhou Yan, Zhou Yang, and even Ding Xiang and Zhi Ling, unseen for so long, came to bid them farewell from afar.

Zhou Tan drew back the carriage curtain and glanced behind, bowing slightly in acknowledgment.

The carriage carried them away from Bianjing once more. Song Shixuan treated Zhou Tan respectfully, leaving his wealth untouched. This time, they traveled lightly, dispersing what they could.

Nanny Yun and Uncle De had already gone ahead to Lin’an to prepare. Qu You sent her maidservants to Gao Yunyue, feeling no lingering attachments.

Listening to the rhythmic sound of the carriage wheels, Qu You suddenly remembered a letter Song Shixuan had sent during their last departure: “When the time comes to set the world right, I’ll celebrate your longevity.”

He hadn’t broken his promise. Every year on Zhou Tan’s birthday, he personally congratulated him, ignoring countless petitions accusing him of favoritism toward Zhou Tan.

Life was unpredictable. No one had foreseen they would reach this point.

Perhaps Zhou Tan thought of this too, squeezing her hand gently. They sat in silence for a moment, hearing the sound of flowing water outside.

Qu You whispered, “It’s Qingxi.”

Lifting the curtain, sure enough, a fine drizzle fell over Qingxi.

Zhou Tan’s eyes misted over, mirroring the rain. He murmured an affirmation without looking out. Qu You picked up a brush and wrote the elegy on the carriage wall.

Qingxi washes in new rain, drifting away old clothes. Wood decays, revealing bones; snow melts, renewing the world.

Seeing her finish, Zhou Tan froze. “This is…”

“If I were dead, you would write this poem by Qingxi when leaving Bianjing for Lin’an,” Qu You said calmly. “You compared yourself to snow, saying only after it melts can a new world emerge… Perhaps then, you already harbored thoughts of death?”

Zhou Tan’s hand trembled. He forced himself to look away from the poem. “Thankfully… you’re still alive.”

“Yes, I’m still alive, Zhou Tan.” Qu You leaned closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him with a hint of bitterness. Her voice wavered with unshed tears. “No matter how much time you have left, I want you to be happy. Be with me, and don’t think about anything else. Everything you wanted to do, I never stopped you. Whatever time remains—you owe it all to me.”

Zhou Tan’s hoarse voice replied, “Alright.”

“Even if our lives are fleeting, I’ll stay by your side.”

Qu You gripped his robe, forcing a pale smile where he couldn’t see.