Chapter 31: Flowers Fall (I) ◇

◎Lighting◎

The mist in the forest was steaming, the haze spreading everywhere, and it was dark and gloomy. The two of them could no longer find their way back and had to walk up the slope. Fortunately, they were lucky and soon found an old mountain shrine to take shelter from the rain.

Zhou Tan gently placed Yan Wuping’s body on a worn-out prayer mat and then searched the shrine for some straw and dry wood. The fire starter he carried with him had been soaked by the rain, and after much effort, he managed to start a weak fire.

Qu You sat in front of the fire, slowly drying her soaked clothes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zhou Tan staring blankly at the altar.

This mountain shrine must have been abandoned for many years, probably built when there were still people living on Jinghua Mountain. The statue of the mountain god was made of rough stone, its head knocked off by something, leaving an ugly gap.

The young woman’s body lay on the prayer mat beneath the altar, her face still smeared with tiny green plants from the rain earlier.

Zhou Tan stared quietly at her.

It seemed like just yesterday when he saved Yan Wuping at the canal dock in Lin’an. At that time, she was tracing Peng Yue’s tracks, traveling all the way from Ruozhou to Jiangnan dressed as a man, not daring to show her martial skills. Her complexion, tanned from long-term wandering and exposure to wind and sun, carried the light of hatred and hope.

Now all of that was gone. She lay alone in the dilapidated mountain shrine, her delicate features ravaged by life, prematurely marked by signs of decay. The blood hadn’t been wiped clean; a patch clung near her left eye, now dried and blackened.

Life is so fragile. If it hadn’t rained today, if they hadn’t been stranded on the mountain, Boss Ai with his medical officer could have quickly found them; if Yan Wuping hadn’t been in such a hurry, suffering only minor treatable injuries; if he had arrived earlier or guessed her intentions and stopped her in advance.

Thinking further back, if he hadn’t taken pity on the child by the roadside, hadn’t been attacked, hadn’t helped the nearly desperate Yan Wuping and Gu Xiang He; if Peng Yue hadn’t entered the wrong room many years ago, or if Yan Zhi had patiently waited for orders before opening the city gates to meet the enemy.

There were so many “ifs.” If even one of them had come true, this outcome wouldn’t have happened.

Zhou Tan felt his consciousness blur. He saw Qu You walking toward him, her mouth moving, seemingly saying something, but his ears were filled with a vague nothingness, unable to hear clearly.

The gentle, clean fragrance of the woman lingered around his nose. He realized that Qu You was checking his temperature with her forehead. At this moment, Zhou Tan suddenly recalled lying on the bed.

For a long time after being attacked, he still had some hazy awareness.

Apart from dreaming, he could almost vividly recall some minuscule details, such as the malicious way the medical officer bandaged his wounds. It hurt, but he couldn’t cry out. The smell of the medicine was gentle yet cruel, his soul detaching from his flesh amidst the bloody air, floating up and observing his life ebbing away bit by bit.

This feeling was spine-chilling, yet he somehow gained a strange sense of satisfaction from the helpless process of waiting for death. He forced himself to repeatedly recall the mutilated bodies of his colleagues in the imperial prison, their corpses piled together with shabby official robes under the austere walls, reaching out a hand he knew well.

The memory was terrifyingly clear.

Later came the sound of suona horns, the warm touch of fingers stroking his neck, leaving a trail of tingling numbness. Long-lost vitality poured into his body, and then through the screen, he saw a pair of bright eyes.

Still so strange. Although it was their first meeting, he vaguely felt as if he might have known her for a very long time.

Qu You sensed something was amiss when she walked over.

Zhou Tan hung his head low, seemingly lost in a self-contained emotional state. She called out several times, but he didn’t respond, his pale face flushed slightly.

She bent down close to his forehead and found he was running a fever.

Qu You cupped his face, getting very close to him. Zhou Tan slowly opened his eyelids to look at her. His amber pupils didn’t reflect her image, but she glimpsed a fleeting trace of self-loathing in them.

She turned her head to see the body on the ground, moving her hand from his face to his shoulder, softly saying, “You’re having a high fever.”

The illness struck so suddenly. Zhou Tan’s health had always been poor. Within a year, he had endured torture, medication, and assassination attempts. A drenching rain brought on the fever.

As his temperature transferred to her palm, Zhou Tan lowered his eyes, unable to look at her anymore. Qu You noticed his evasive intention, but this time she didn’t let go. Instead, she directly asked, “What are you avoiding?”

“Don’t get close to me.” Zhou Tan avoided her gaze, closing his eyes. His thin eyelids trembled restlessly, showing his current hesitation and struggle.

“The day you came to my mansion, someone should have told you not to get close to me, not to do me favors.” Zhou Tan spoke through clenched teeth, trembling, “Do you see this corpse? She once trusted me, and now she lies here. Don’t you fear that one day you’ll end up like this?”

The body lay beneath the damaged deity statue, where even the gods no longer protected him.

“Why do you blame yourself so much?”

Qu You looked at him, his emotions clearly out of control, speaking such words.

“Her death is not your fault. You didn’t want to be ambushed, didn’t want Peng Yue to merely be sentenced to exile, didn’t want to fail to help her…” Recalling her previous suspicions of him, Qu You felt an indescribable bitterness. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault,” Zhou Tan stubbornly denied. “When I couldn’t deliver, I shouldn’t have made false promises, shouldn’t have given her hope only to lose it, leading her to make irreversible choices. Once a person dies, it’s like a lamp extinguishing—there’s no going back.”

In the dim light, he turned his head. Qu You saw the reflection of the firelight between his lashes, casting a tearful shimmer in his icy brows. “If you leave me, you’ll have a better life.”

A person always accustomed to self-blame.

A person who dons malice as armor, forcing others to distance themselves from him.

How could such a person become a villain? Or rather, how could someone with such high moral standards allow themselves to commit evil?

“Zhou Tan,” Qu You reached out near his lashes without touching them. “Yan Wuping told me so many things, making me certain of only one thing… You’re full of lies. I will never believe another word you say.”

Based on Zhou Tan’s usual behavior, he would surely retort with biting remarks, heartlessly denying and provoking her to leave in anger, then licking his wounds alone. His disguise was flawless. If not for Yan Wuping’s words, Qu You might truly believe that what he said reflected his thoughts.

Those things that caused her repeated doubts finally found evidence. From the beginning, she had clearly defined the good and evil in her mind, repeatedly entangled later on. Beyond the flowery historical books, she saw only a newlywed night, cowering in a corner, ignored by everyone—a good person.

Zhou Tan skillfully created disappointment, disdain, and disgust in her mind, proficiently driving her away. Unfortunately, he misjudged many things. Yan Wuping clarified these matters, and Qu You immediately understood what he was thinking.

To be a solitary minister, without weaknesses.

She waited for Zhou Tan to mock her as he always did, but he remained silent. She leaned down and found him with lowered eyes, his consciousness already somewhat scattered.

Qu You dragged him to a corner, intending to surround him with straw. However, the remaining straw used for starting the fire was soaked with rain, too damp to use. With no other options, she resorted to the most clichéd plot point, embracing him to share warmth.

The night was deep, the sound of rain gradually subsided. Zhou Tan fell into a deep sleep in her arms, then briefly regained consciousness. She heard him call out hoarsely in a nightmare, “Teacher.”

Qu You suddenly remembered Peng Yue’s last words. Gu Zhiyan was upright throughout his life. If Zhou Tan hadn’t betrayed his teacher’s teachings, then what did he learn in the imperial prison that made him willing to ruin his reputation and embark on a path completely different from his earlier life?

Before she could think further, Zhou Tan started struggling restlessly in her arms again, drenched in cold sweat. She reached out to wipe it away and heard him murmur softly, “So dark.”

Qu You instantly lost seven or eight parts of her sleepiness. She rubbed her eyes and looked around. The fire was almost out. She had no fire starter. If the fire went out, they’d have to wait for daylight to see again.

She sighed, gently loosening her hold on Zhou Tan, rolled up her sleeves, and crawled behind the dilapidated altar. If she remembered correctly, she should have seen many lanterns hanging there before.

After fumbling in the dark for a while, Qu You found a half-burnt candle among them.

She quickly scraped off the old wax coating with her hands, lit the wick with the last spark, and found a relatively intact lampshade. The autumn wind was bleak, occasionally letting in drafts, and the flame would easily go out.

Finally, there was a glimmer of warm light in the broken temple. She carried the trembling lamp to the corner and found that Zhou Tan had awakened.

Although awake, he lacked the strength to move even a little. Qu You hung the lamp on the edge of the nearby table and embraced him again, warning, “I’m very tired, have no energy to argue with you. It’s too cold here, don’t move around.”

Zhou Tan’s gaze was fixed on the lamp. He moved his lips but didn’t push her away. Instead, he raised his wide sleeve carefully and covered her front.

The two of them stared at the flickering candle flame inside the old lampshade for a long time. Qu You, holding Zhou Tan’s arm, suddenly said, “I miss home.”

Zhou Tan’s voice was hoarse: “Tomorrow, I’ll send you back to the Qu family mansion.”

“Oh, not there,” Qu You shook her head earnestly. “My hometown is actually in Hang... in Lin’an, the place you stayed. I grew up in Lin’an as a child, then came to the capital. It’s been a long time since I’ve returned.”

Zhou Tan listened quietly to her talk. Her voice was pleasant, and even if she occasionally mentioned words he didn’t understand, he couldn’t bear to interrupt and ask.

“I want to go home. In Lin’an, there’s an ancient town. Every spring, I used to go boating with friends. The flowers in the town bloomed beautifully. The first time I secretly picked one, I got caught by the public security office and fined five hundred yuan.”

Qu You kept talking. She hadn’t spoken about these things for a long time. Now, such days were far away across thousands of mountains and rivers. She had left home and wandered afar, never able to return.

Seeing Zhou Tan remain silent, Qu You suddenly stopped, pondering for a moment before continuing: “I know, you want everyone in the world to hate you. That way, when you do something, you won’t worry about anyone being sad for you.”

Zhou Tan pretended to sleep with closed eyes, offering no response.

“Never mind, telling you these things now, you wouldn’t listen anyway. How about this: when you one day are truly honest with me, I’ll tell you a big secret.”

The wind suddenly knocked on the window frame, making a sound. Zhou Tan opened his eyes, nervously looking at the swaying lamp, fearing it would go out. Seeing it was fine, he relaxed.

Qu You continued talking: “Do you know why I’m so interested in you? Actually, before, I wanted to know something else. But the moment I saw you, I had an intuition… Nietzsche once said that man is great because he is a bridge, not a goal. Though you refuse to tell me what exactly you are plotting, I feel you are very much like a bridge.”

This time, he didn’t understand at all. After a brief silence, he rasped out with a dry throat, struggling to ask: “What does Brother Ni mean by this?”

“You don’t understand, right?” Qu You was sleepy, mumbling fuzzily, “I know where the other side of the bridge is, but you don’t. You only know destruction and sacrifice, willing to dedicate everything to break injustice… Your later methods transcend this era. I admire you.”

Zhou Tan wanted to ask another question, but Qu You had already fallen asleep, leaning on his shoulder, still muttering some words that he partly understood.

“I love such a kind of person who feels ashamed for winning a dice throw and questions whether he is a cheating gambler because he willingly chooses extinction.”

“I love such a kind of person who throws out golden words before acting, fulfilling more than promised because he voluntarily declines.”

“I love such a kind of person who affirms future generations and saves past ones because he willingly perishes for present humanity.”

...

“I love such a kind of person who falls drop by drop from the clouds suspended above humanity, announcing the arrival of lightning and perishing as heralds.”

Look, I am the herald of lightning, a heavy raindrop falling from the clouds.