Chapter 12: That Year, I Drank Myself into Oblivion for Love

The moon reflected on the water as midnight approached; the west wind carried whispers into the clouds.

Standing atop a high tower, I gazed southward. Placing “Fengchui” to my lips, I played another tune of “Zhiyin.”

I am Ye Jinglan, born in Shuiyuejing of Mianzhou...

“Jing’er, do you know the origin of Shuiyuejing?” Mother smiled at me, her warmth akin to a gentle spring breeze—the very tenderness that had once halted Father’s restless wanderings.

Silently, I stared into her eyes, clear as mountain streams, and shook my head mutely.

Mother reclined on a bamboo chair, her gaze drifting toward the flowing clouds in the sky. “Shuiyuejing was established during the reign of Emperor Xianxian of the Zhen Dynasty. Legend has it that this was where his heart shattered.”

Shattered heart? I couldn’t help but sigh softly.

“Mianzhou was originally part of Chu, a source of turmoil throughout the ages. During Emperor Xianxian’s reign, it was finally pacified. The emperor, whose name would live on through the ages, designated this place as his secondary capital, naming it Shuiyuejing.” Mother turned her head and looked at me tenderly. “According to the records of Mianzhou, ‘Shuiyue’ was originally a person’s name—a woman’s name.”

Shuiyue, Shuiyue... I lowered my head, pondering repeatedly. Something felt off, but I couldn’t pinpoint why.

“Emperor Xianxian worked tirelessly throughout his life, leaving him prematurely aged. He passed away before reaching forty, and it was here, in Shuiyuejing, that he breathed his last.” A long, drawn-out sigh escaped her lips. “Jing’er.” Turning her head, I saw her brows furrowed. “I tell you all this because I hope you can truly embrace this city, for you will be its master someday.”

Master? I turned my gaze indifferently, my heart calm and unruffled.

“Perhaps Jing’er prefers practicing medicine?” Looking at Mother, guilt written across her face, I remained expressionless. “Fengju mentioned that you often stay up late reading medical texts, and your talent is extraordinary.” She gazed at me softly, her brows knitting tighter. “I’m sorry, Jing’er. It’s all because I’ve been selfish.”

Selfish? I looked at her with a faint sense of helplessness as tears welled in her eyes. “I’ve never blamed you,” I said quietly.

Years ago, Grandfather had strongly opposed my parents’ marriage because Father refused to become a son-in-law living under his roof. Eventually, Mother and Father eloped, returning only after I was born. Left with no choice, Grandfather relented—but on one condition: I must inherit the position of Marquis of Mianzhou. Thus, on the hundredth day of my birth, my fate was sealed.

But what did it matter? If I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t hesitate to let it go. Yet, I’d never spoken those words—not out of fear of Grandfather’s anger, but because speaking was troublesome.

“Jing’er.” Mother reached out to touch my cheek, but I instinctively recoiled. Physical contact had always made me uncomfortable. “Jing’er...” Her fingers trembled as she pulled them back, sighing softly. “Ever since your first birthday, you’ve grown distant from me.”

“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t intentional—I simply disliked closeness.

“Silly child, you’ll never need to apologize to me.” She lay back down, her red lips curling slightly upward, her eyes shimmering with happiness. “Do you remember your first birthday celebration when we placed so many items on the bed? Your grandfather even brought out the Marquis seal, claiming its bright colors would surely catch your eye. But you ignored everyone’s coaxing and crawled straight ahead, grabbing a crescent-shaped jade pendant and refusing to let go. Your grandfather laughed heartily, insisting that this moon represented Shuiyuejing itself.” Her gaze grew earnest, filled with deep expectation. “Jing’er, Shuiyuejing is your birthplace, just as it is mine. I don’t ask you to pour all your efforts into it, but I beg you—to protect this earthly paradise for me, for your grandfather, and for the people.”

After a moment of silence, I murmured softly, “Alright.”

The spring breeze gently brushed Mother’s hair, carrying the melodious cry of a phoenix. Pure and serene, it washed away the dust in my heart.

At the time, I didn’t realize that this promise would foreshadow such an ending...

The next time I saw the phoenix hairpin, it was amidst a pool of blood.

“Bing’er!” Father cradled Mother’s already cold body, howling toward the heavens. “No!”

Mother… I stared blankly at the scene before me, collapsing to my knees. “Mother!” Returning with Father from visiting friends, this was the sight that greeted us. For the first time, I trembled—clenching my fists tightly, then forcing them open again. My voice low and heavy, I demanded, “Who did this?”

Mother’s personal maid, tears streaming down her face, clung to a pillar for support. “M-mistress... I-I don’t know...” Trembling violently, she stammered, “A-a dozen black-clad men descended from the skies, slaughtering all the guards who rushed to help. Then... then...” Her legs gave way as she slid to the ground. “The leader... struck Miss with a single sword thrust...” She sobbed uncontrollably.

In that courtyard, I was the only one who didn’t shed a tear. Was it because of my cold nature? No—it was simply that I was incapable of crying. Yet the pain had already sunk deep into my heart.

In a single night, spring faded completely. Unable to bear the shock, Grandfather suffered a heart attack and passed away, tears still streaming down his face. Father held Mother’s body, kneeling sorrowfully through the long night until dawn broke. Only then did he slowly rise.

“Father.” The golden rays of sunrise dispelled the darkness, while thick morning clouds weighed heavily on my shoulders. Ye Jinglan was no longer a fourteen-year-old boy but the ruler of Mianzhou, a crucial stronghold of the realm. With bloodshot eyes, Father gazed deeply at me. “Jing’er, please protect your mother’s beloved Shuiyuejing. I’m sorry—I haven’t been a good father.” After casting one last glance at the bloody, silent courtyard, he carried Mother’s body and flew northward.

This was the first time Father entrusted me as a man—and the last time he looked back at Shuiyuejing.

Later, the Xu family conspired with Yi Kingdom, attempting to seize Mianzhou amid the chaos. In the wake of losing my loved ones, I unleashed my ruthlessness for the first time. I ordered the damming of the Chijiang River, flooding the farmlands downstream in Yi Kingdom. Then, leading my troops personally, I slaughtered every rebel in the Xu family’s camp. By the time the rebellion in Shuiyuejing ended, news arrived that Father had avenged himself upon Riyaomen and ascended to the upper reaches of Yunyao.

That night, I burned my blood-soaked clothes and stood with my hands clasped behind my back, gazing at the pale yellow full moon. Letting out a deep sigh, I wondered: Who was the clear water, and who was the ripple at its center? With my naturally indifferent disposition, I feared I would never understand the intense emotions Father and Mother shared…

“Master.” As soon as I opened the door, I saw Uncle Song wearing a fawning smile. Without hesitation, I turned and left; there was no need to guess why he was here—to play matchmaker yet again.

“Master!” His urgent voice followed me. “Next month, you’ll come of age, yet you haven’t even taken a concubine!” Turning the corner of the corridor, I quickened my pace. “If Miss were still alive, how worried and heartbroken she’d be~” I snorted coldly, my sleeves billowing as I moved swiftly. “Young Master, forgive me, Song Shen, for failing you!” His voice broke into sobs, but I ignored him. “Sigh, Master! Master! Slow down—I’m too old to keep up!” If you can’t keep up, stop following me. “Master, this time, I guarantee you’ll like the girl I’ve chosen! Look at her eyebrows, look at her figure—she’s perfect for household duties!” A scroll came flying toward me, but without sparing it a glance, I released a thread of qi, scattering the paper into the air. “Master! Master!” His voice seethed with frustration. “This girl took me ages to find across all four corners of Mianzhou!” You found her? Wasn’t the woman who sneaked into my room last time also your choice? Hmph. With swift steps, I leapt over the wall and fled.

“Master~” His voice trailed behind me as he continued to follow closely. “Master, could it be... could it be...” He stumbled over his words, hesitating for a moment before whispering, “Is there some difficulty you’re hiding?” My body trembled briefly but steadied immediately. “No, no, Master’s medical skills surpass even your late husband’s—how could there be any issues in that regard? Could it be... Could it be... Young Master!” His voice rose in panic. “Could it be that you prefer men?!” Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and fled westward with all my might. I needed to get away for now—until Uncle Song regained his senses.

Little did I know that this panicked shout would spark the most widespread rumor in Shuiyuejing: The Marquis of Mianzhou preferred male companionship…

It was during this period of absence that I met Feng Wuyu, a man of tranquil elegance. He never asked about my origins, nor did he speak of his own. Our interactions were like basking in a shower of wutong rain—peaceful, understated friendship.

Later, I traveled to Yunyao to visit Father and Mother.

“Jing’er, look—your father is old now, but your mother remains forever young.” Father had long since lost his sight, blinded in the second year after arriving in Yunyao. Now, his hair was as white as snow, his eyes devoid of life. Only when speaking of Mother did his dull gray pupils flicker with vitality. “Jing’er, your father was too hasty in the past, leaving our vengeance incomplete. Now, Riyaomen has reemerged in the world, but your father is blind and aged, unable to act.”

Interrupting him, I replied firmly, “Father, I’ll handle it.”

He leaned over the ice coffin and, in an instant, touched Mother’s cheek. “Bing’er, look—Jing’er has grown up.” His eyes trembled faintly, brimming with deep affection. After a moment, he carefully removed the phoenix hairpin from Mother’s hair and held it out to me solemnly. “Jing’er, if you ever meet someone you love, give this to her.” I stood there, frozen, unmoving. “Silly child, do you truly believe you’ll spend your entire life alone?” Father chuckled softly. “Don’t be so certain. When I was young, I wandered the jianghu with my sword, thinking I’d live out my days in seclusion with a few close friends, immersed in nature. But then, I met Bing’er…” He tightly clasped Mother’s pale hand. “Jing’er, there will come someone who will awaken the passion within your heart.” With a flick of his finger, the phoenix hairpin flew straight into my palm. “When that time comes, don’t hesitate—hold onto her with everything you have, protect her carefully. Don’t end up like me, regretting for half a lifetime.”

At the time, I didn’t think much of it—I simply tucked the phoenix hairpin into my chest. It wasn’t until I drifted along the Lei River on a small boat that a clear, melodious voice reached my ears, stirring ripples in my heart like spring rain. Unable to resist, I picked up “Fengchui” and played along with the tune. When I turned back, the slender figure on the riverside pavilion had already vanished, leaving me momentarily disoriented.

“This is my junior sister, Feng Yunqing.” My gaze locked onto her, and a nameless, indescribable emotion surged in my chest. Her bright eyes were like a crystal-clear spring, like aged wine—intoxicating yet pure. She merely bowed slightly, smiled softly, and turned to leave. Her delicate figure couldn’t hide the crescent-moon-like elegance she exuded.

That night, she stepped out of the pages of a shallow book and directly into my dreams.

My gaze always unconsciously drifted toward her, instinctively collecting every fleeting expression she made. Spring sunlight bathed the imperial road, but it didn’t seem to reach her heart. How did I know? Because I noticed her smile never quite reached her eyes. Even in the dark forest, even while joking with her senior sister, an unceasing sadness quietly spilled from the corners of her brows and eyes.

I prefer silence, and I prefer purity. Glancing sideways, I sensed someone behind me. Stopping mid-motion as I undressed, I stood rigid, ready to strike. But then I saw her stumble out of the bushes. Her clear eyes shimmered with a hint of confusion as she gazed silently at the mountain stream before her, her lips slowly curling into a faint smile. Cherry blossoms fluttered in the wind, as if echoing the breath of the night. It seemed that her gentle smile held a kind of magic.

She turned to look at me, and I hurriedly reined in my scattered thoughts, forcing myself to appear composed. She furrowed her brows, her face filled with urgency, opening her mouth to speak but hesitating instead. Mm, though I knew she hadn’t been the one spying earlier, I pretended ignorance, simply gazing at her quietly. My selfish desire was to see more vivid expressions from her.

It turned out she was strong. I watched in astonishment as her qi surged around her, the cool breeze brushing against her pale forehead. Beneath her fluttering bangs lay eyes brimming with killing intent. Her clarity had transformed into cold resolve, yet they shimmered with an entrancing beauty. Without a word, she understood the depth of my intentions. Together, we broke through the Golden Cage Formation, and she leapt into the fray. Her sword movements were like a dragon startling a phoenix, her spirit ruthless and determined—a dance of martial prowess. I never imagined the long-lost Qingkuang Sword could be performed with such grandeur by her.

After changing out of her blood-soaked clothes, she returned to her usual calm demeanor. But I knew—only those who had lost everything could cultivate such disdain for the mortal world, only bone-deep pain could condense into the lingering melancholy between her brows. In her eyes, I saw loneliness—a state of mind that had become my constant companion. Like a solitary moon in a vast, dark night, I thought I understood her.

There was something off about this Xie Sichen. I narrowed my eyes, comprehending fully. Before descending the mountain, Father had told me that if anything happened, I could consult the headmaster of the Qianlong Sect, as they had been the ones to gather intelligence on Riyao Gate back then. Yet here was Xie Sichen, the current young master of Qianlong Sect, claiming complete ignorance of the Golden Cage Formation. Clearly, this was a case of “no silver under the bridge.” Turning my head slightly, I caught her probing gaze. Had she noticed something amiss too? Clever girl.

Walking through the bustling market, she seemed distracted. Amid the throng of people, I saw her about to stumble. My body moved faster than my thoughts, and I instinctively reached out to steady her. The moment our skin touched, the icy chill of her palm sent a tingling sensation rippling through my heart. Why did I, who disliked physical contact, react this way? I couldn’t help but feel astonished.

But when I heard the earth-shaking strains of the zither and the sweet, refreshing soft singing, my astonishment quickly turned to delight. It was her—I should’ve realized sooner that the singer on the Lei River was her. A sense of joy at rediscovering something precious overflowed in my heart, unrestrained and free-spirited. Ignoring the pointless adoration around us, I stepped aside, letting others fall into the water. I simply gazed deeply at her. Was this passion? Was the warmth flowing through my heart considered passion? Before I could sort through my thoughts, I let this mountain spring flow quietly, silently watching without disturbing her peace of mind.

Not only for myself, but I would not allow anyone else to alter the course of her flow. I raised my wine cup coldly, locking eyes directly with that man. From those teasing yet domineering eyes, I saw his blatant interest in her. The calm surface of my heart, untouched for years, suddenly churned with waves three feet high. I looked back resolutely. A blurry image flashed through my mind—this felt eerily familiar, as if I’d lived through it all before.

Yes, as if I’d already experienced it. Crouching at the edge of the pit, I gripped her hand tightly. This palpitation felt like a poisonous vine, its delicate tendrils wrapping around my body and soul. In the midst of the black hole’s pull, her hair swirled, her luminous eyes trembling faintly. “Be careful!”

Even though I anticipated the ambush from behind, I wouldn’t retaliate because I couldn’t afford to lose her. Using my qi to shield myself, I ensured this blow wouldn’t be fatal. Though the pain pierced my bones, compared to the heart-wrenching sting of the “poisonous vine” in my heart, it felt almost gentle. Watching beads of cold sweat slide down her forehead, hearing the chilling sound of her shoulder joints grinding together, I realized this couldn’t continue. So I slid down to join her. In the darkness, I wrapped my arms tightly around her slender waist. The moment we embraced, the void in my heart seemed filled, warm and fragrant.

Cradling her now unconscious form, I drew “Ziye” from my waist. The blade scraped against the stone wall, emitting a jarring metallic clang. Slowing our descent, I lightly pushed off the sides, landing gently with her in my arms. Though drenched in cold sweat from the pain, she made no sound in the darkness—her strength stirred a deep tenderness within me. Holding her, I repeatedly channeled my qi into her body, alleviating the agony caused by the “Silk-Thread Entanglement.”

The surroundings were utterly silent, yet I felt a strange warmth. After resting briefly, I helped her sit up and transferred more qi. Her slender fingers, like jade shoots, twitched slightly—she was awake.

“Thank you, Young Master Ye.”

Her clear voice brought me peace. I gazed at her silently; under the soft orange glow, her elegant figure resembled an ancient painting, exuding a faint mystery. For the first time, being alone with a woman and speaking so many words didn’t bring the slightest discomfort—it felt natural and soothing.

Turning my back to her, I heard the sound of tearing fabric. Silently, I handed her the medicine for her wounds. As my cool fingers brushed against her injury, an unfamiliar tingling sensation coursed through my body.

“I’m sorry, Young Master Ye—it’s all my fault you got dragged into this.”

Young Master Ye… A flicker of displeasure crossed my heart, and I instinctively spoke: “Xiu Yuan.” After a pause, I added, “It’s my courtesy name.”

A moment later, a soft voice called from behind me: “Xiu Yuan.”

“Mm.” A faint smile tugged at my lips—it felt satisfying.

“Yun Qing.” Her delicate hands stirred something deep within me, tickling faintly. “My name.”

It was like hearing a drop of dew fall into a deep pool—the ripples spread through my heart. Savoring this intoxicating emotion, I softly murmured, “Yun Qing.”

“Mm.” A gentle, obedient response.

As the bandages wound around her, the warmth of her presence drew closer with each loop, and my steady heartbeat quickened beat by beat. Yun Qing—I repeated her name over and over in my heart.

In the dreamlike haze of sleep, I suddenly felt an inexplicable ache welling up inside me. Murmuring deeply, I whispered, “The tomb of my wife…” My wife, my wife—the words echoed repeatedly in my mind. Stepping into the ancient tomb, past misty willows and painted bridges, beneath the dense shade of courtyard trees, everything felt so familiar. Without hesitation, I walked straight ahead as if I’d been here countless times before. Pushing open the door, my eyes fell upon an ancient painting—the eyes in the portrait looked just like hers.

“Clouds drift heavily in the autumn night, cold and vast; frost-covered orchids wither in the emptiness.” My voice carried a trace of sorrow as I recited softly, “The bright moon sleeps eternally, stars dimmed; the clear sky mourns, and my heart sighs endlessly.”

“It’s too late for regret—all forsaken, awaiting another life.” Her voice trembled faintly, touched by emotion, before she slowly entered the inner chamber. A sharp pain stabbed my chest, and I collapsed onto a round stool, my mind growing increasingly hazy. An overwhelming grief swept through me, leaving me powerless to resist.

“Xiu Yuan.” She rushed out from behind the beaded curtain, her voice filled with concern. “What’s wrong with you?” Her worry seeped into my heart, easing the sharp pain within. She reached out to touch my forehead, and I neither flinched nor avoided her touch—my body’s reaction confused even me. Her delicate hand was cool and soft, sending subtle sensations coursing through my mind. Following her advice, I sat cross-legged in a corner and began regulating my breath. Unlike other women who looked at me with greedy eyes, she showed no trace of admiration—only pure concern in her clear gaze. This both delighted and troubled me. Your gentleness, your grace... words failed to capture their meaning.

As I sat in meditation, I felt as if my soul had left my body, floating aimlessly, carried by the wind high into the heavens...

“Long’er.” Through the misty skies and rippling waters, a crystalline voice approached, clearing the clouds and fog in an instant. I found myself standing on a floating island in the sky. Mist swirled around me, clouds danced with waterfalls, and mountain springs cascaded into a crimson pool. The misty pond was covered with five-colored lotus flowers, resembling a celestial paradise.

“Long’er.” Looking up, I saw a woman standing on a wide platform. She gazed at me deeply, sorrow etched into her brows. “Forget about her. Return to the heavenly palace—I will make it up to you.”

“No.” My lips moved against my will, like a puppet controlled by strings. “For the so-called sense of duty, I’ve already betrayed her twice.” My voice choked with emotion. “I must find her. Even if she vows never to see me again in this life or the next, I’ll search the heavens and the earth. This time, I won’t let go!”

“You two brothers...” The woman sighed. “Long’er, you’re too rigid, burdened by responsibility. Chi’er is too reckless, treating duty as worthless. If only you could balance each other—it would be ideal.” She smiled faintly. “So be it. Let you indulge your will once, and let Chi’er endure trials for lifetimes. If you can resolve this entangled fate, it will be a good thing. This time, I won’t favor either of you—I’ll stay uninvolved. You’ll rely solely on your abilities.”

With a wave of her hand, the scene before me shifted abruptly, replaced by desolation all around.

“Lord Qinglong, don’t wait any longer. She won’t come.” A long-bearded man in black robes shook his head at me. “You and Lord Chilong—one waits foolishly, the other defies fate. It makes my job difficult.”

“Then tell me,” my body moved involuntarily, “where is she?”

He sighed, his expression troubled. “Alas, the Dragon King of the Illusionary Sea mourns his beloved daughter’s suffering across two lifetimes. He forbids me from revealing the whereabouts of Xian Yue. Please, stop asking.”

Xian Yue... The name stirred a vague sense of loss.

The Manjusha flowers bloomed and withered, over and over. Time stretched endlessly, erasing its very existence from my awareness. I lost count of how many times the red-clad figure passed by me. All I remembered was the unmistakable hatred in his narrow eyes and the untamed silhouette of his back.

“Lord Qinglong!” The long-bearded man pushed through the crowd crossing the bridge. “Good news—she has returned.”

“What?!” Trapped within this shell of a body, I watched as my own hands grasped his in excitement.

“Mm. The Holy Mother of the Nine Heavens spoke with the Dragon King of the Illusionary Sea. To restore peace to Shen Kun, the Dragon King agreed to let Xian Yue reincarnate once more.” The man bowed deeply to me. “You may proceed. King Yama of Shen Kun bids you farewell here.”

King Yama? Could this be hell? My gaze drifted past the bustling crowd, catching sight of Yun Qing being pushed forward by two guards, step by agonizing step toward me. Why? A flicker of alarm shot through me. Why was she here? Had the poison Sisi Ru Kou taken effect? A sharp pain pierced my chest, as if the venomous vine had burrowed deep into my heart, slowly siphoning away my life force.

Struggling awake from the darkness, I found myself back in the ancient tomb. Leaping into action, I frantically searched for her. Finally, in the waterside pavilion, I spotted her fragile figure. My heart skipped a beat as I approached, trembling fingers brushing against her smooth skin. Feeling her steady pulse beneath my fingertips, I exhaled deeply. The turbulent lake of my heart gradually calmed, prompting me to ask myself: Ye Jinglan, what exactly does she mean to you?

Confused, I still hadn’t sorted through my thoughts even after leaving the tomb.

Standing quietly by the lotus pond, I watched her sing and dance under the moonlight, a faint smile tugging at my lips. Who had wiped away the sorrow from her brows? Who had brought such joy to her serene demeanor? Reflecting on this, I couldn’t help but suppress my smile. My heart ached faintly.

She pointed toward the crescent moon, smiling brightly. “Listen—the everlasting music of Chang Le.”

The night was endless, the stars sparse against the luminous moon. The scenery remained serene, the breeze gentle and unhurried.

She turned her head and smiled, causing my heart to flutter. In an instant, her figure faltered, and a streak of crimson appeared at the corner of her lips. Ignoring propriety, I pulled back her sleeve. Lush vines had grown up to her forearm, their curling leaves seeming to pierce into my heart alongside the “poisonous vine,” triggering waves of pain. Clutching her tightly, I swiftly carried her to the western chamber.

Amidst the astonished gazes of others, I infused my qi to close her door. Using silver needles to halt the growth of the vines, I exhausted my internal energy to force the crimson tendrils back into the palm of my hand. Then, I simply gazed at her, my eyes roaming over her serene sleeping face: it seemed she had become indispensable to me.

As dawn broke, I quietly opened the door to see two figures standing in the courtyard. One was my friend Feng Wuyu; the other was a tall man with deep-set eyes.

“Brother Ye, this is Yun Qing’s elder brother, Han Yuesha, General Han of Qing.”

Nodding hastily, I prepared to leave.

“Master Ye, please save Qingqing,” Han Yuesha bowed deeply to me.

“Mm.” She wouldn’t be harmed—I wouldn’t allow it. With that, I turned to leave.

“Brother Ye, where are you going?” Feng Wuyu’s voice carried a hint of urgency.

“To gather herbs.” My tone was indifferent as I glanced at Han Yuesha. “Tell her to wait for me.”

The reason Sisi Ru Kou was considered one of the deadliest poisons in the world was due to the rarity of the emerald snake gall required for the antidote. After days of ceaseless travel, I finally arrived at Zang You Cliff, the northernmost part of Liang Kingdom—the sole habitat of the emerald snake.

These snakes, known as “royal serpents” due to their potent venom, were said to be divine beasts banished from the celestial realms for defying heavenly laws. Cunning by nature, they hid during the day and emerged at night, nesting on horizontal branches jutting out from cliffs. Their scarcity made them nearly impossible to capture.

After three days of searching, I located a nest and baited it multiple times without rushing. On the eighth day, the cunning emerald snake finally lowered its guard, just as it was about to fall into my trap. Suddenly, a hawk swooped down, startling it into fleeing toward the cliff. Knowing I might not get another chance, I leapt off the edge without hesitation. With one hand, I drew Ziye and infused it with qi, driving it into the cliff face. With the other, I seized the snake as it tried to escape into a tree hollow, crushing the vertebrae near its neck. Pushing off the cliff wall, I retrieved the sword and flew upward. I dissected the snake, extracted its gallbladder, prepared the antidote, and raced back to Qing without pause.

That night, I finally arrived in Yundu. Before entering the general’s residence, I heard the clear, resonant sound of a guqin. The anxiety that had plagued me for half a month finally subsided. Taking out the long-unused Fengchui, I played a duet of “Zhi Yin.”

In the dim light of the lanterns, she smiled faintly, her serene beauty unchanged. The poison had caused her pain seven times already—it was now reaching her marrow, the vines probing toward her heart. With no time to waste, I resorted to the only method left. Dismissing her family and maids, I gazed at her silently, took a deep breath, and calmly explained the detoxification process. Her cheeks flushed under the candlelight, her shyness breathtaking. She lowered her head and walked slowly to the bed, her graceful figure captivating me completely. The thin bed curtains, like gossamer veils, enveloped everything in a hazy allure. Turning away, I suppressed the restlessness in my heart, repeatedly reciting passages from the Medical Canon . Yet, my thoughts still wandered.

“It’s done,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my hurried steps and gently lifted the gauze. What greeted my eyes was an ethereal sight: her slender waist, like a willow branch sculpted by clouds, her silken hair cascading down her back, revealing glimpses of her flawless skin. Gently lifting her flowing locks, her elegance fully revealed itself. Closing my eyes briefly, I focused and began inserting silver needles into her skin. Staring at her jade-like back, I momentarily froze, a tingling sensation spreading throughout my body, as if a feather brushed against my heart, stirring an unbearable itch. The flickering candlelight snapped me out of my daze, and I shook my head lightly, regaining my composure.

Knowing her shyness, I closed my eyes voluntarily—to reassure her and hasten the expulsion of the deadly toxin. Calming my mind, I began by channeling gentle streams of qi into her body. When the poison weakened, I intensified the flow. A series of needle drops, followed by a cough of blood, signaled the sudden disappearance of warmth in my palm. Alarmed, I instinctively opened my eyes. There she lay, frail and powerless on the edge of the bed, her hair scattered, her figure enchanting—her delicate skin and fragile bones evoking awe. My heart trembled as I wrapped her tightly in a thin blanket. Her head rested weakly against my chest, my hands lingering protectively around her waist.

In the past, Uncle Song had once tried to entice me by having a famous courtesan strip naked before me. At the time, I only felt disgust. But now, even a light embrace stirred my heart like ripples in a spring pond, refusing to settle. Leaning down, I whispered softly into her ear: “I will take responsibility.”

I will take responsibility because it’s you.

“Does the divine physician intend to marry Qingqing?” Han Yuesha’s face lit up with joy, but after a moment, he hesitated and shook his head. “Forgive me.”

My brows furrowed slightly as I gazed at him silently.

“At first, when I brought her back, I hadn’t considered other implications.” He sighed deeply. “Now, she is the sole younger sister of Qing’s General Fu Bo. In this turbulent situation, her marriage is no longer something I can decide.” He took two steps back and bowed deeply to me. “Please, Master Physician, do not be impatient. I, Zhusu, will ensure Qingqing’s safety. Once the situation stabilizes, we can discuss further.”

I nodded lightly and turned to leave. Yun Qing, you have awakened the passion within me. Only by holding you tightly, only by protecting you close to my heart, can I find peace.

That night, for the first time, I released the signal arrow of the Marquis of Mianzhou—and for the first time, I was grateful to possess Shuiyuejing, renowned across the land.

Within three days, Uncle Song arrived in Yundu along the Lei River, leading elite troops.

Upon seeing Qiao again, I was now the Marquis of Ning, and she the Lady Han. Ignoring the formalities of Qing’s courtiers, my eyes were fixed solely on her throughout the evening. Watching her charming smile, her carefree stance, my lips curved upward countless times, involuntarily.

The wind was light, the shadows faint, the lanterns dim. In that sudden exchange of glances, everything around us seemed to fall silent. She smiled sweetly, her gaze rippling gently, sinking deep into my heart. The lingering fragrance dissipated, leaving me intoxicated.

It turns out what I sought was not just a soulmate.

Though I knew the King of Qing was deliberately testing me, so what? I want her, whether she is Lady Han or Feng Yunqing.

“A year.” I picked up the wine cup, my chest filled with confidence. “I will wait.” In this year, I can accomplish much, and then I will come for you.

In truth, she has always been Lady Han. Her candid revelation brought both joy and sorrow. Joy that she trusted me enough to share her secrets; sorrow for her tragic past, which painted her brows with a perpetual hint of melancholy. Watching her brace herself against the storm, feigning strength, my heart ached alongside hers—throbbing with pain and tinged with bitterness.

She looked at me and smiled, her tone soft: “Xiu Yuan, don’t abandon the pure blue sky for something trivial and fall into hell with me.”

Whether ascending to the heavens or descending to the underworld, I vow to follow you like a shadow. If you wish to fight heaven and earth, I will stand by your side—even if it costs my life, I will cherish every moment. Pulling her close, shielding her from the storm, I solemnly made my promise: “I will accompany you.” My arms tightened around her, my heart harboring only one simple wish: I can wait until you agree. For now, let me draw closer to you, let me stay by your side.

From within my embrace came her faint sobs, like drifting rain. While the storm soaked through my clothes, her tears drenched my heart.

The phoenix hairpin hummed softly once more—but this time, I had already decided the outcome…

Standing atop the high tower of Shuiyuejing, I gazed southward. Setting aside “Fengchui,” I retrieved her silk handkerchief from my chest, clutched it tightly along with the chilly tranquility of the night, twisting it into a dense longing that flew with the wind, into her dreams.

“Master.” I turned sharply to see Uncle Song holding two scrolls, his expression solemn. “Both the King of Jing and Empress Wen have sent envoys requesting aid. Empress Wen has promised to cede the three states of Gong, Lou, and Yan upon success.”

I glanced coldly at the scrolls and spoke indifferently: “Issue the order—troops will march in two days.”

“Yes.” Uncle Song nodded, his face troubled. “But what about Miss Han’s family…?”

Gazing at the crescent moon, I smirked faintly: “March to support the royal cause.”

“Yes!”

The three states of Gong, Lou, and Yan? None of them hold my interest. What I want is Chijiang, which can choke Qing’s throat, and the heartland of Jing.

Even if it leads to hell, I will protect you completely.

Wait for me, Yun Qing.

A clear night, a cool moon, condensing into a single drop of mountain spring water, falling into the depths of my heart.

If I am the clear water, then you are the ripple at its center.