Chapter 20: A Crescent Moon, a Sleepless Night

The morning breeze brushed the flowing clouds, and the early glow adorned the rising sun. Amidst the cool mist, two riders—one clad in red, the other in black—gradually disappeared into the distance, vanishing behind the milky-white “veil.”

Yuning stood before the carriage, watching the figure in green grow smaller until it vanished. His stubborn brows furrowed slightly: truly, they seemed so alike.

“Brother Yuanzhong?” The carriage curtain lifted, and Song Baoyan smiled warmly at the thoughtful man standing below. “Brother Yuanzhong, it’s time to depart.”

Yuning turned his head, his face no longer bearing the polite smile from before. His serious gaze made Song Baoyan’s heart tighten involuntarily.

“Last night.” Yuning glanced again toward the distant mist. “Did Brother Feng really return because he couldn’t find you?”

“Of course.” Song Baoyan’s smile faded as well. “Does Brother Yuanzhong doubt me?”

A moment of silence passed, followed by a faint laugh: “Of course not.” Yuning relaxed his expression and slowly stepped onto the carriage. “Brother Yaqing.”

Song Baoyan narrowed his eyes, gazing at Yuning silhouetted against the light. Those deep, unfathomable eyes made him cautious as he responded softly: “Hmm?”

“Don’t you think Brother Feng and the young lady from last night looked remarkably similar from behind?”

“Ah?” Song Baoyan raised an eyebrow, blinking in confusion. “Lady?”

“Mm.” Yuning didn’t allow him to evade, stepping closer and staring directly. “The young lady from the garden last night.” As he spoke, the image of that graceful figure flashed through his mind: her flowing robes, slender waist, hair dancing in the wind, crowned with a hibiscus flower. He had hoped for her to turn around, to glimpse a familiar face, just once. But seeing Lord Ding’s firm embrace and wary gaze, he realized it was all in vain—a mere wishful thought.

“You mean Xiaocui?” Song Baoyan shrugged, sitting back down at the low table. “She’s one of our young master’s concubines.” He winked suggestively. “They say short partings are sweeter than new marriages, and our young master is in his prime for such pleasures. This fiery passion—hee hee.” Though he smiled outwardly, his heart was bitter: Damn, such sharp eyes! Is anyone nearby? Please don’t let anyone hear this. If Father finds out, he’ll skin me alive! Alas, heaven and earth bear witness—I was forced, forced into this! After the resentment wound its way through the twists and turns of his chest, it gradually softened into a faint smile on his honey-toned face: “Though Officer Feng’s figure is delicate and feminine, Brother Yuanzhong needn’t worry. Our young master isn’t interested in men.”

Yuning’s face showed a hint of awkwardness: “No… no…”

“Sigh, Brother Yuanzhong needn’t be tense. These private words between us brothers will remain confidential.” The carriage started moving, and Song Baoyan lifted the copper kettle from the charcoal stove, pouring tea for Yuning. “Their close relationship naturally raises suspicion. However, our young master and Officer Feng are old acquaintances. Officer Feng’s elder brother and our young master are sworn brothers. When the younger Feng entered service, his elder brother naturally entrusted our young master to look after him, which is why they’ve grown closer.”

“Oh?” Yuning blew on the steam rising from his cup, seemingly casual. “I presume Brother Yaqing knows a bit about Officer Feng’s family circumstances? I’m quite curious.”

What a suspicious bastard! Song Baoyan cursed inwardly. Rolling his eyes, he smiled: “If I remember correctly, Officer Feng’s home is near the border of Jing, Liang, and Yi states. As for how many people are in his household, I don’t know.” Thankfully, Father had prepared thoroughly, writing up information about Miss for him and his older brother to memorize. Otherwise, he’d have been trapped by this guy!

It matches what Brother Feng said. But the person in my heart is from Lianzhou in Qing State. Could I really have been mistaken? Yuning fell into deep thought. Even as the porcelain cup in his hand radiated scorching heat, he didn’t notice, simply lowering his gaze silently. Yunqing, is he male or female? Is he truly Feng Yunqing?

Song Baoyan watched Yuning’s doubtful expression with satisfaction, neither revealing nor explaining further. Quietly, only a misty haze floated within the carriage. After a while, Yuning finally snapped out of it, resuming his formulaic smile: “This time, we’re splitting into two groups to head to the meeting place. What does Lord Ding have in mind?”

“The abundance of salt and iron in our Mianzhou is known far and wide. However, the salt mostly comes from the northern district, while the iron is primarily mined in the southern district. Thus, our young master decided to divide into northern and southern routes, observing as we go.”

“Oh? Then why are Lord Ding and Brother Feng traveling alone, while our route has the escort of the Azure Dragon Riders?”

“Hehehe.” The laughter was light and cheerful, perfectly masking the resentment in someone’s heart. “Our young master and Officer Feng possess extraordinary martial skills. If they brought escorts, who would be protecting whom? It would be troublesome.”

“Indeed. Then please, Brother Yaqing, enlighten me about the iron mines in the southern district.” He emphasized the word “enlighten” quite heavily.

“Alright.” Weight against weight, smile against smile, Song Baoyan inwardly roared ferociously: He, Song Xiao’er, had never lost in the political arena. Let’s see what tricks this weak, suspicious bastard who speaks in riddles can pull! Bring it on! Watch the Song family’s art of bullshitting!

“Speaking of the southern district, it all begins with the legendary phoenix butterfly hairpin that fell from the heavens, gifted by the Holy Mother Nine Heavens above...”

Hand in hand, strolling leisurely through the tranquil mountain forest. Behind them trailed two fine horses, one red and one black, while beside their feet, the mountain stream lay frozen. Beneath the ice, the murmuring water seemed to whisper the love stories of the snow-capped peaks.

So, life could be this peaceful and serene.

The north wind carried the scent of snow from the mountains, coolly seeping into their nostrils and transforming into a thin mist.

“Yunqing.” The “spring water” beside him murmured softly.

“Hmm?”

His deep eyes reflected my shadow, their ripples trembling my heart. “Are you cold?”

I tightened my grip on his warm palm, palm to palm, and gently shook my head. Yunyao Mountain stood thousands of feet tall. From its base to its peak, the colors transitioned from deep to light, eventually becoming a blanket of white snow.

“Finally, I smell the mountain air again.” Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, a smile forming at the corners of my lips. “Xiu Yuan.”

“Mm.”

“If I close my eyes, will you lead me forward?”

“Yes.” A gentle yet firm response.

Before my eyes lay gray shadows, but my heart was clear. Walking through the thick snow, one step deep, one step shallow, produced somewhat comical sounds.

“Xiu Yuan.”

“Mm.”

“This is my first time walking in the snow. When I was eight, a snowfall came to Wang Mountain, but it melted upon touching the ground, eventually blending into the soil.” I stomped on the snow forcefully, feeling my body tilt downward. “I only remember that when I was young, You State was warm, with only raindrops, yet they carried a chilling cold.” My hand felt a strengthening grip; he was conveying courage through his skin. “Mm, it’s all in the past now. I can smile while recalling it.” My lips curved slightly upward, my voice growing softer. “Even earlier, my home was in Jiangnan, where winters were another kind of snowless scenery.”

“Jiangnan?” A rich, low response.

“Mm.” I nodded lightly, humming a distant folk song amidst the biting cold of the snowy land:

“Holding an umbrella, can I walk into your romance?

Rowing a small boat, can I feel your lingering affection?

Blowing a bamboo flute, can I understand your evening fishing songs?

Lighting a fishing lamp, can I warm your sleepless nights?

Listen, Jiangnan.”

A drop of icy cold slid into my nape, cutting off my final note. I chuckled self-deprecatingly: “The Jiangnan in my dreams—it must be from a past life.”

“Past life...” He murmured softly, then pulled me closer. “Yunqing.”

Instinctively leaning toward the source of his voice, the medicinal fragrance filled my nose. Suddenly, my body was lifted horizontally, hearing the whistling wind by my ear and the sound of hooves breaking ice behind me.

“The stream surface is frozen; it’s slippery.” His warm breath fanned my cheek. I could feel him—so close, so very close. Resting on his shoulder, my heartbeat quickened uncontrollably. Unable to resist, I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling his body stiffen momentarily before tightening its embrace. My chin rested in the crook of his neck, and I stealthily opened my eyes to peek behind him.

Two sets of footprints—one large, one small—walked side by side from afar. Gradually, they merged into one single mark.

“Yunqing.” The frozen stream was now behind us, yet I remained in his arms.

“Hmm?” A kitten-like hum.

“In this life, you are in my fate.” His voice was like a deep, resonant string, plucking at my heart. I opened my eyes wide and looked up. His passionate phoenix eyes shimmered, rippled, brimming with anticipation. Tightening my hands, I slowly brought my face closer until our cold noses touched, exchanging warm breaths. Only then did I solemnly speak: “My heart feels the same.”

He chuckled deeply, his icy thin lips voicing scorching affection. Parting my lips, I welcomed his soft warmth—sweet like spring water, fresh like summer lotus, abundant like autumn harvest. Interweaving the essence of winter, the four seasons entwined on our lips, clinging tightly.

This, was love as pure as snow...

The horses snorted loudly, neighing softly, as if chuckling. Sliding down from his arms, I clung tightly to his lean waist. With my lips and teeth, I read the moving melody in his heart, deciphering those strings of beautiful notes. Xiu Yuan, do you feel it? I’m reading you, reading you with all my heart, overflowing with affection.

“Zhi?—” Barely audible footsteps on the snow, the horses let out a wary neigh, breaking the intoxicating silence. From our deep embrace, we gradually pulled apart—but only our lips and tongues, not our hearts. Just as “spring, summer, autumn” began to fade, my lips were gently pecked, driving away the chill of winter. Slowly opening my eyes, you bound me with threads of affection in your gaze, while I bit down softly, yearning for you.

We exchanged a smile, simultaneously leaping into the air. Several maple-shaped red darts were embedded in the snow. Strange silver threads wove a dense net in the air, blending with the surrounding white snow, making my eyes sting slightly. The wind carried it away, and when I looked up again, the silver net had transformed into a thick silver cover, pressing down on me. Reaching for the hilt at my waist, just as I was about to draw my soul-stealing sword, my hand was pressed down.

“Xiu Yuan?” I looked at him, puzzled.

“Let me handle it.” He hooked his arm around my waist and leapt into the air. “Ding!” Unbeknownst to me, a golden sword had appeared in his hand, its cold light gleaming, thin as a cicada’s wing, shaped like... Before I could finish the thought, a low hum emanated from the soul-stealing sword at my waist.

His eyes turned cold as he held me close, maneuvering along the edge of the silver cover. So fast, it was as if he were chasing the wind. Everything around us shimmered; one moment the red darts were on the right, the next they flashed to the left. Fighting the instinct to blink, I tried to take everything in, but my eyes couldn’t keep up with his speed. Dimly, I saw dazzling golden light, fluttering robes, and bursts of sword flowers. Glancing around, I noticed a golden swastika left behind where we had just stood.

Swastika, swastika... It was as though a cold breeze blew through my mind, sending a slight tingle down my scalp. Could it be? I stared incredulously at his flawless, handsome face, stammering: “The Supreme Sword...” My master once said that ten years of “Melancholy,” twenty years of “Unrestrained Clarity,” thirty years of “Dominion over the Vast,” and forty years of “Supreme Mastery.” I had mastered the Unrestrained Clarity Sword in ten years, considered a prodigy by my master. Yet here he was, at twenty-two, wielding the “Unity of Swastikas” technique of the Supreme Sword—leaving me both envious and delighted.

He sheathed his longsword, lowering his head to give me a tender smile. I felt enveloped by pure internal energy, as if the world around us had vanished, and my body soared straight to the clouds.

“Boom!” The silver cover shattered, collapsing into pieces. Dozens of white shadows flew into the sky like butterflies, blossoming into pools of crimson upon landing.

“So it really is you...” The leader spat out viscous **, his eyes dim, clearly nearing death. Trembling, he pulled a silver whistle from his chest and blew with all his might, producing an eerie rhythm.

A signal? I stepped forward, intending to end his life, but Xiu Yuan pulled me back firmly: “Let’s go.”

“But...” His grip was unyielding, leaving no room for resistance.

“Ugh.” The man on the ground lay on his back, seemingly using his last ounce of strength to roar, “You can’t escape! You can’t...” His words trailed off as he fell silent.

On the pristine snow lay dozens of pale white shadows, leaving behind bloodstains like plum blossoms...

White, then white again, but this time it was hair as white as snow. Looking at this silver-haired man before me, who bore some resemblance to Xiu Yuan, I was momentarily stunned. If not for noticing his dull, lifeless gray eyes, it would have been hard to believe he had been blind for years.

“Father, that’s all there is to it.” Xiu Yuan calmly recounted the past, gazing quietly at the figure standing by the window.

The mountain winds howled, lifting his clothes and whipping his silver strands into a frenzy. His clear, handsome profile showed no trace of age; his dull gray eyes were half-closed, his entire being blending into the fine snowstorm. He seemed present, yet distant—a mere shadow on the verge of vanishing, unreal.

“Mm, I see.” A voice like a twilight bell. “Jing’er.” He accurately removed the latch and closed the window, instantly silencing the raging wind. “You may leave now. I wish to speak with Miss Han.”

Surprised, I glanced at Xiu Yuan. He squeezed my palm reassuringly, winking softly. I nodded lightly, watching him leave silently as the thick wooden door closed with a creak.

The sounds of wind and snow were shut out beyond the door; the room grew eerily quiet. Not only did Ye Fengju walk without a sound, but his breathing was entirely imperceptible—a level of skill I’d only encountered in my master and Master Liaowu.

“Miss Han.” He slowly sat down in the rocking chair, his gray eyes meeting mine directly.

“Senior Ye.” I bowed respectfully, my gesture not one of empty courtesy but an expression of genuine respect.

His face tightened slightly, his dark pupils contracting. “Do you love Jing’er?”

Stunned, I looked at him, momentarily speechless. After a moment, I smiled sweetly and answered frankly: “I love him.”

“Mm, good, very good.” He rested his feet on the footrest, relaxing into the chair. “Then, Miss Han, do you know how to love him?”

How to love? For a moment, I was at a loss—I hadn’t given it much thought.

“When it comes to matters of the heart, the men of the Ye family are unwavering once they’ve made their choice.” The rocking chair creaked softly, emitting a muffled sound. “As someone from the jianghu, you must have heard about my late wife and me.” He took a deep breath, his gray eyes lowering, long lashes concealing their dimness. “Old Song once wrote to inform me of public opinion, calling me an unparalleled romantic. But that’s not entirely true.” He stopped the rocking chair. “Miss, do you know what Jing’er would do if he were in my place?”

His voice was calm but resonated deeply within my heart. “Yunqing, you are in my fate.” The words echoed in my mind. If I were like his mother, then... Biting my lip, my breath trembled.

“I suppose you’ve guessed it.” Senior Ye sighed softly. “Jing’er appears indifferent, but he is the most resolute. And he is more decisive than I ever was.”

Frowning, I felt the weight of his profound love settle heavily in my heart.

“By June, Yunyao Mountain had already gathered quite a few vermin from the Riyao Sect.” Riyao Sect—my thoughts stirred. Could the ambush we faced earlier have been their Silver Gong Array? “Those people feared me, so they only dared to linger at the foot of the mountain. Old Chen once captured a few for questioning. They said the Riyao Sect’s Shadow Master had been killed, his body riddled with fatal wounds, yet the scars were light and shallow—not the work of ordinary weapons. According to their knowledgeable sect leader, only one sword in the world could achieve such precision.”

I glanced at the silver chain at my waist and spoke softly: “Soul-Stealer.”

“Midnight.” He spoke at the same time, then chuckled deeply after a pause. “Indeed, truly a match made in heaven.”

“Eh?”

“You didn’t know? The Midnight Sword Jing’er carries and your Soul-Stealer were originally a pair.” He tapped the armrest of the chair leisurely. “Midnight and Soul-Stealer—one gold, one silver, one yang, one yin—are two halves of the same entity, ancient divine weapons. After the Zhen Dynasty was established, they became national treasures, enshrined alongside the ancestral tablets of successive emperors in the Imperial Ancestral Temple. After the fall of the Zhen Dynasty and the chaos of Shen Kun, the male sword, Midnight, eventually fell into the hands of the Ye family, becoming a treasured heirloom. The female sword, however, disappeared, gradually fading from memory. Thus, the Riyao Sect assumed Jing’er had killed their Shadow Master.”

In truth, it was me. I clenched my fists tightly.

“It wasn’t until Jing’er revealed the truth just now that I understood why he chose to reveal his weapon at the foot of the mountain.” The rocking chair creaked again. “With Jing’er’s skills, he could easily win barehanded. So why reveal his sword?”

Yes, why, why indeed. This fool even allowed the leader to release a signal. All of this...

“It was all for you.” Senior Ye cut straight to the heart of the matter. “In truth, Miss, you needn’t worry. If Jing’er has done this, he has sufficient confidence. But do you understand now? How to love him?”

With Xiu Yuan’s abilities, he could undoubtedly protect himself, but I was his weakness. Realizing this, enlightenment dawned: “To protect myself is the most practical way to love him.”

“Mm, clever.” The elder increased the rocking chair’s sway. “I am an incompetent father, a selfish one.” He pressed down on the chair abruptly, halting its movement. “Please, for the sake of my son, take care of yourself. I beg of you.” His gray eyes flickered for the first time, exuding vitality. At this moment, Ye Fengju shed his ethereal aura, revealing a deeply tangible presence.

“Alright.” I made a solemn promise—for this love, this bond.

“Mm.” He exhaled deeply, his expression softening slightly, closing his eyes and calling softly, “Changxing.”

“Master.” The door opened gently, and Uncle Xu, who had greeted Xiu Yuan and me at the foot of the mountain, stood bowing.

“Take Miss Han to meet her ladyship.”

Uncle Xu smiled warmly at me. “Yes.”

“Jing’er, come in. I have something to tell you.”

As I passed by Xiu Yuan, I read a hint of joy in his deep phoenix eyes. Just as we were about to pass each other, he suddenly wrapped his arm around my waist. Seeing his evident delight, I was momentarily stunned.

“Go see your mother.” He left a kiss in my hair, his shimmering eyes like a warm spring stream flowing through my heart.

The briefest moment of tenderness, the sudden turn of the head—deep affection burned on my cheeks, stirring in my heart.

“Miss.” The old, heavy voice pulled me from the warmth of the moment.

“Hmm?” I hastily responded softly.

Uncle Xu teased me with a wink. “This old servant has never seen the young master so expressive.”

A flush of heat rose to my face; even in the cold wind, I was acutely aware of my burning cheeks.

“The master asked you to see Madam as a way of acknowledging your identity. Naturally, the young master is delighted,” he said, bowing respectfully at the entrance of the snow cave. “Young Miss, please.”

Though I had guessed it, when Uncle Xu called out those three words—”Young Miss”—my heart raced uncontrollably. Slowing my steps, I gently entered the snow cave. Inside the crystalline cavern, intricate ice flowers were carved, their petals sprawling, delicate and fine. Some bore red speckles, while others were entirely crimson, like scarlet blossoms scattered across the snow, unmatched in purity and beauty.

“Camellias,” I murmured to myself.

“Madam loved camellias most in her life,” Uncle Xu said, his brows slightly furrowed, his gaze heavy with sorrow as he looked at the ice flowers. “Every single one here was crafted by the master’s hands, and those red blooms were dyed with his blood.”

For his beloved, he carved flowers of blood. I recalled the fleeting summers and springs of old—a curtain of sparse shadows, clouds of green tied high, lazily adorned with camellias. How long did they linger together? Amidst the chaos, the flower traces remained, but her spirit had faded. A fleeting night-blooming cereus, its beauty scattered across distant lands. True love worthy of praise, devoted love reflected in his actions.

Leaning against the ice coffin, I gazed silently at her resting amidst red and white camellias, silently vowing: Rest in peace. I will not let Xiu Yuan repeat her fate—I swear it...

Never, never—it must be a mistake. I shook my head firmly. My body trembled uncontrollably as I clenched my fists, resisting the bone-chilling cold seeping through my veins. Has that day come again?

“Young master...” Uncle Xu’s eyes widened like bronze bells, the lantern in his hand shaking violently. “You... you... you mean...”

Xiu Yuan glanced at him indifferently, his tone leaving no room for refusal. “Cloud Qing and I will share a room.” With that, he took my hand and walked forward without looking back.

“Thud!” The lantern fell to the ground, its faint flame extinguished. Uncle Xu stared speechlessly, the cold wind rushing into his gaping mouth. His shock sent shivers down my spine.

“Ah... ah?” My teeth chattered as I turned and waved frantically at Uncle Xu, trying to signal. “He... he... he’s just joking...”

Before I could finish, I was once again pulled into his familiar embrace. “Xiu... Xiu... Yuan...” My voice faltered, my body chilled to the core. Instinctively, I pressed closer to his warm cheek, seeking the rare heat. “You... you...” Winter days were short; dusk fell soon after dinner. This darkest night of the year had become an indelible scar in my life, a wound hard to erase.

“Bang!” He kicked open the bedroom door with one swift motion, then closed it with a flick of his sleeve.

Gently, he laid me on the bed, carefully removing my leather boots. I curled up under the covers, but it was no use—I couldn’t generate any warmth, my heartbeat slowing dangerously. Peeking out, I saw Xiu Yuan hastily undressing. My heart, which had momentarily stopped, now pounded fiercely. No... surely not. Watching him strip down to just his pants in record time, I momentarily forgot to breathe: good, very good. Realizing my admiration, I quickly averted my gaze, burying my head in the blankets. This was seduction, pure seduction.

Through the blanket, I was held tightly. “Yunqing,” his voice soft, like rain falling on lotus petals. “Today is the beginning of winter.”

My body froze, and after a moment, I peeked out. “You... you... know?”

He nodded gently, reaching out to loosen my hair. “I won’t do anything reckless. Trust me, alright?”

My eyelids, stiff from the cold, stared at him unblinkingly. I nodded firmly. “Alright.” Letting go of the blanket I’d been clutching, I watched his bare chest draw nearer, my heart pounding with embarrassment, though my face remained devoid of warmth. For the first time, I saw his smooth, fair skin, his disheveled hair. The darkness seemed almost bewitching against him. Not only was his body pleasing to the eye, but it also looked incredibly warm. Could I hold him? My entire body trembled, my waist-length black hair swaying like living water. Could I hold him? Unable to speak, I could only convey my thoughts through my eyes.

He smiled warmly, like a spring breeze, pulling me into his arms. My skin cried out, touching his warm body. I pressed my cheek against his lean chest, occasionally rubbing against it. So warm, so warm—warmer than Sister.

“Yunqing,” his voice low and hoarse, his hand pressing lightly against the back of my head, sighed faintly. “Don’t move too much.”

Hmm? Though I didn’t understand, you’re my heating pad. I’ll obey, completely.

Resting quietly against him, waves of cold surged through my body. The warmth I gained from his palms and chest was no longer enough to resist it. So cold, so cold—it brought tears to my eyes.

“Yunqing?” He gently lifted my face. “What’s wrong?” His anxious gaze searched my face.

Hugging his neck, I choked out, “Cold.”

He pulled me tighter, as if trying to meld me into his body. After a moment, his deep voice murmured, “Take off your clothes.”

Struggling for a while, I pushed the blanket aside and sat up from his embrace. Through tear-filled eyes, I looked down at him. He met my gaze briefly before turning away. Trembling like a sieve, my fingers finally found the buttons, taking two cups of tea’s worth of time to remove my outer garment. Wearing only a thin inner layer, I carefully slipped back under the warm covers. Instinctively, I moved closer to him, pausing as I heard his slightly uneven breathing. Finally, I wrapped my arms around his lean waist. Warmth—pressing against his bare back felt so comforting. Heat surged from my feet and hands, and I sighed contentedly, though it made his body stiffen.

“Xiu Yuan.” My voice no longer quivered.

“Hmm?” His voice was deep and hoarse.

Feeling guilty, I loosened my grip. “Did I make you cold?”

Before I could pull away, his blazing hands tightened around mine. “No.”

Feeling the heat radiating from his body, I relaxed and pressed closer. “Was this something Brother told you?”

“Mm.”

“And did he tell you why?” I tilted my head slightly.

“No, Brother Wuyu only said that on the start of winter, you need someone to keep you warm.”

The person before me—his elegant neck, smooth black hair, finely muscled and beautiful body—was mesmerizing. Such beauty was truly tempting.

“Yunqing?” His clear voice brought me back from my daze.

“Ah.” I hurriedly responded, striving to calm my racing heart, reciting the Heart Sutra: Form is emptiness, emptiness is form; form is no other than emptiness, emptiness no other than form. Repeating it over and over, I finally subdued the fiery heat within me and softly spoke. “When Master took me as his disciple, he set one condition—that I not leave the valley for ten years. At the time, I didn’t understand his true intentions; I only wanted to learn martial arts to exact revenge. When I was ten, against all advice, I sneaked into the Qiao Cave on the night of the winter solstice and submerged myself in the icy lake, hoping to break through a barrier in my internal energy. But I was too eager, and I ended up losing control.”

He gently stroked the back of my hand, his fingertips conveying deep concern. “At the time, my internal energy surged uncontrollably, feeling as if my body would explode. Master and Master Liaowu each expended ten years of their internal strength to neutralize the malevolent energy within me. Only then did I understand Master’s painstaking efforts, shifting my focus from physical training to cultivating my mind. But that incident left a deep mark on me. Every year on the winter solstice, my body would grow unbearably cold, leaving me unable to fend for myself. Only human warmth could help me endure the night safely. In the valley, either Sister or Aunt Fat would stay with me through this difficult night. Now...” As warmth returned to my body, a faint blush rose to my cheeks. “Thank you, Xiu Yuan.”

Silence reigned for a moment, my eyelids growing heavy as sleep overtook me.

“In the future, always rely on me.” His clear voice, like a star in the dark clouds, lit up the dim night.

Bowing my head, I shyly smiled and planted a soft kiss on his back, feeling his slight shiver. Eyes closed, I whispered: “I’ll take responsibility.” With that, I grinned proudly.

As drowsiness gradually overtook me, I faintly felt him shift his body, the warmth of our closeness intensifying. Faintly, I felt a gentle drizzle of “spring rain” fall upon my face, and then the tender touch of passion at its peak...

In the end, just before sleep claimed me, I faintly heard the whisper of night: “Good.”

Through the darkness, a rosy glow shimmered.

In my dream, a small boat swayed gently,

Carrying me adrift in the spring waters.

Where it docked—

Was your heart.

What was confused—

Was my love.

But who could decipher whether this was the beginning of a farewell or the happy ending?

Unaware of the passing years in the mountains, beneath a crescent moon, sleep eluded me through the night.

The autumn winds swept over the graves once more,

The dreams of lovers easily shattered, leaving fresh tear stains behind.

________________________________________

Epilogue: Much Later

The candlelight flickered, distorting the shadows in the room. An elderly woman with white hair sat regally in the seat of honor, dressed in a luxurious embroidered silk robe. A pair of ornate phoenix hairpins adorned her silver-streaked hair, and her sharp, triangular eyes exuded an air of quiet authority. This was Princess Ling Baozhu of Qing State, the aunt of Prince Ling Mo and a legendary figure who had married into the illustrious Qiu family forty years prior.

With elegant poise, she accepted a jade cup brought to her lips, rinsed her mouth with saltwater, and spat delicately into a golden clamshell. Her personal maid leaned forward respectfully, using a fragrant handkerchief to gently wipe the corners of her mistress’s finely lined lips. The maid inadvertently glanced up, only to be pierced by the icy glare of her mistress’s sharp gaze. Trembling, she quickly bowed and retreated, following the direction of her mistress’s frosty stare toward the kneeling figure of the second young miss of the Qiu household—Qiu Jingchen…

“Chen’er,” the old voice rumbled like a boulder pressing down on everyone’s backs. Silence reigned—no sound dared disrupt the stillness.

Qiu Jingchen straightened her back, her defiant eyes locking directly onto those of the family patriarch.

Sighing inwardly, Ling Baozhu thought: Among her three granddaughters, the eldest, Jingxian, was cunning, worldly, and most like herself—the one who pleased her the most. Her thoughts drifted as she turned to look at the poised and graceful eldest granddaughter seated to her left. The future of the Qiu family would undoubtedly rest in her hands. Her gaze darkened slightly as she looked further, noting the youngest granddaughter clutching her elder sister’s sleeve tightly, frantically signaling to the kneeling second sister. Jingwen was only ten, timid and naive—she would surely face hardships when married off to a high-ranking official household.

And this second granddaughter… Ling Baozhu’s aged eyes narrowed slightly as she observed her. Of the three sisters, Jingchen’s delicate beauty stood out the most, but she was rebellious and aloof. Ling Baozhu’s expression hardened as she gazed coldly at the exceptionally proud Qiu Jingchen, letting out a derisive chuckle: “Have you made up your mind?”

“Yes!” The second young miss met her challenge without flinching, her clear, limpid eyes wide and her chin lifted slightly. Her tone was resolute: “Since the age of five, I’ve traveled the jianghu with my master. I simply cannot adapt to the monotonous, petty life of scheming and vying for favor among officials’ wives.”

With every word, the family patriarch’s piercing gaze grew colder, and the heads of those around sank lower.

“Bang!” The matriarch clenched her jaw and slammed her hand on the table, causing the enamel-tipped rings on her fingers to clatter to the floor. Everyone present knelt in unison. “Hmph.” Ling Baozhu’s lips curled downward as her sharp eyes bore into Qiu Jingchen. “Chen’er, I’ve kept silent all these years to spare you some dignity. When you were five, you fell gravely ill—a strange ailment no imperial physician had ever seen. Then your wandering master arrived, praising you as a martial prodigy whose talents appear only once a decade. Just one sentence cured your illness. Did you truly believe the Palace of Xuan’s master was a living deity?” She pushed away her maid’s support and slowly approached the pale-faced Qiu Jingchen. “In truth, your illness was psychological. Your elder sister’s brilliance and your newborn younger sister stole all the attention, leaving you bedridden.”

Jingxian’s expression remained composed, though her bright eyes betrayed a flicker of emotion. Meanwhile, the youngest sister stared in disbelief at her stiffened second sister, her delicate features contorted as she shook her head and retreated backward.

“After hearing such praise, your pride swelled, and you disappeared into the Palace of Xuan for years. Now the Rong family has come to propose marriage. Your elder sister is already the chosen consort for the crown prince, and you are the only one of age. But never did I imagine that you’d abandon your family for the title of Holy Maiden.”

Qiu Jingchen clenched her fists tightly, raising her pale face. Though weak, her voice carried unwavering determination: “Please, Grandmother, grant me your blessing.”

“Chen’er, don’t think you’re the only pure one in the Qiu family, the only untainted soul.” The matriarch’s words were merciless, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. “You’re simply unwilling to settle for the leftovers of your sister’s rejected match.”

Qiu Jingchen’s lips trembled, and she screamed hoarsely: “No! No!”

“Whether it is or isn’t, you know the truth!” The matriarch gripped her sharp chin tightly, forcing her to meet her gaze. “I’ll ask you one last time, Chen’er—have you made your decision?”

Jingchen’s proud heart shattered under the weight of these truths. It seemed she would finally yield to her grandmother’s stern gaze. Suddenly, the image of a carefree, wind-like figure flashed through her mind. Like a drowning person grasping a raft, she clung to it desperately. No, no—it couldn’t be true! She wasn’t the vain, jealous girl her grandmother described. She hadn’t chosen the jianghu out of envy for her elder sister. Impossible! She was noble, extraordinary. She chose to remain unmarried because he had said it was rare to find companions who could walk alongside each other. If he was the wind, then she was the clouds—how could her grandmother, mired in worldly concerns, understand such transcendence? Lost in thought, Jingchen conjured visions of herself and that man together, misinterpreting her obsession as noble love.

Ling Baozhu watched in astonishment as her second granddaughter’s despair transformed into madness. Her grip tightened, her long nails digging into the tender flesh of Jingchen’s chin, refusing to let her escape.

“Grandmother,” came a crisp, cool voice. Her beautiful eyes gleamed with icy resolve, chilling even the matriarch’s fingers. “I have made my decision. Please, grant me your blessing.”

“Fine!” Ling Baozhu released her grip and nodded, stepping back. “Very well!” Straightening her back, she surveyed the room with commanding authority. “From this day forward, Qiu Jingchen is no longer the second young miss of the Qiu family of Yundu. Her name will be stricken from the family records! Do you all understand?”

“Yes,” came the hesitant, muffled replies.

Qiu Jingchen lowered herself, bowing three times to the seat of honor. She cast a sympathetic glance at the trembling figures weighed down by the matriarch’s authority. A smile graced her lips as she strode confidently out through the crimson gates.

“Second Sister!” The petite Jingwen summoned unexpected courage, ignoring the matriarch’s fury as she ran forward to grab her sister’s dress. “Second Sister, you’ll regret this!”

Regret? Jingchen scoffed. Gently prying her little sister’s hand loose, she leapt gracefully over the wall and disappeared into the distance. Farewell, the tainted Qiu household. Farewell, her past.

From then on, she was no longer the shadow of her elder sister, nor the second choice in her parents’ eyes. Qiu Jingxian became the Holy Maiden of the Palace of Xuan, a celestial figure admired by countless wandering knights, a legendary figure in the jianghu. Yet no matter how high she stood or how lightly she soared, she could never grasp the hem of the wind’s robes. A sense of loss gnawed at her heart, pulling her back to the past.

It didn’t matter—she wasn’t unworthy; the wind had already abandoned the mortal world. If even she couldn’t keep up with his pace, what woman in this world could claim his heart?

But three years later, the painkiller she had relied on lost its effect.

Watching him embrace his wife and child, watching him laugh foolishly like any ordinary man as he passed her by, Qiu Jingchen’s pride crumbled in an instant. A surge of emotion welled up within her—resentment, sheer resentment!

Later, she fell victim to Lady Yan’s potent aphrodisiac. This time, she shed her pride and gazed at him longingly: “Master Ye, if…” A blush bloomed on her delicate face, her body consumed by heat. Drunk on her own beauty and rare vulnerability, she declared confidently, “If it were you, I would be willing.” Willing to offer her pure maidenhood to the wind, willing to forsake the title of Holy Maiden for him. In truth, her willingness was merely an attempt to rebuild her shattered pride.

“It’s just a common aphrodisiac. Holy Maiden, do not succumb to the desires of your body. Endure for a few hours, and you’ll be fine.” Not sparing her a glance, his indifferent voice floated on the wind: “This lowly doctor already has a family. Please, Holy Maiden, respect yourself.”

Like flowers reflected in a mirror or bubbles in water, her proud and aloof heart shattered into a thousand pieces, scattering on the ground, reflecting the emptiness in her eyes.

“Ahh!” As she came to from her pained roar, she saw another extraordinary figure—Tang Kuangsong, the next candidate for the position of Wulin Alliance Leader and the dream husband of countless jianghu maidens. Her flirtatious eyes clouded with desire, her crimson lips curved into a smile, and she reached out to him. That night, she watched his enraptured gaze and felt his uncontrollable body, reclaiming her confidence in the throes of passion.

But as the unexpected fruit of that fleeting spring night grew day by day, she realized that what she had regained was not confidence but shame—for her once-pristine body bore no trace of the wind. She draped a thin veil over her daughter’s face, refusing to recall that disastrous night. Hate consumed her. Why hadn’t she soared straight to the heavens on the wings of the wind? Why?!

Later, news arrived from Yundu: Grandmother had passed away. The terrifying old woman who could dissect hearts with her piercing gaze had finally closed her eyes forever. Her eldest sister, now Queen, sent a secret letter—revealing that the Qiu family still needed her, Qiu Jingchen. The long-dormant redness returned to her lips.

Ten years later, she set foot on Qing State soil once more. From her bosom, she retrieved two porcelain vials and gently placed them in her elder sister’s hands. “A fleeting moment like the night-blooming cereus—a poison without equal. Even the divine physician Ye Fengju would find it difficult to unravel.” This last sentence filled her heart with smug satisfaction.

The sharp gleam in Qiu Jingxian’s eyes, so similar to their grandmother’s, flickered momentarily. Seated regally, she gave a slight nod.

This confidence pierced Qiu Jingchen’s heart with bitterness. She let out a cool snort: “What? Does our flawless Miss Qiu intend to use such underhanded means to eliminate a formidable rival?”

She waited, waited for that dignified mask to crack, for her proud elder sister to break down in tears. But once again, she was disappointed. Qiu Jingxian merely smiled at her: “Sister, I don’t mind being ruthless to protect what I hold dear.” Her bright eyes shifted, leaving Qiu Jingchen momentarily dazed. “What I cannot have, no one else in this world shall take.” These words dispelled the gloom in Qiu Jingchen’s heart. The sisters exchanged a smile, their reflections clear as if gazing into a mirror.

Later, Qiu Jingxian used a secret poison from the Palace of Xuan to kill the favored concubine of the King of Qing, securing her position as Queen.

Later, Qiu Jingchen resorted to treachery, hiring assassins to murder the wife of the wind.

Later, Qiu Jingwen bore legitimate sons and daughters for the newly powerful Rong family, gradually shedding her timid exterior amidst the harem struggles.

And later…

Qiu Jingchen watched the silver light pierce through her body, feeling the blood gush from her chest, hearing the low murmur akin to the flow of the Yellow Springs: “Close your eyes.”

Savoring the last rays of the setting sun in this life, she trembled as she reached out, trying to grasp the passing breeze. But… opening her palm, she saw only grains of sand. Unable to support her so-called confidence any longer, she collapsed to her knees, ending her already ordinary life in the most humiliating posture.

Later,

And much later,

What fates awaited her sisters?

________________________________________

Epilogue: Women Are Not Tigers

Next month, the young master would turn seventeen. Song Shenwei strolled along the bustling southern street of Shuiyuejing, his hands clasped behind his back, sighing deeply: Alas, the young master is as cold as ice and as hard as stone, utterly disinterested in women. A few days ago, his so-called “one-day visit to the pleasure quarters” plan had ended in failure. His eldest son and second son were carried home by servants in pitiful states. It seemed the young master couldn’t tolerate the harassment of courtesans, angrily sending dozens of girls flying and demolishing half the brothel. In the end, the hefty bill landed on his two unfortunate sons. Ouch! Just thinking about the glittering silver he’d spent—21,200 taels—made his heart bleed. Enough to buy how many pots of Four Seasons Orchids or Green Peonies, woe is me! Old Song grimaced, nearly crouching to cry on the ground.

Though reluctant to admit it, Song Shenwei lowered his head dejectedly, kicking a pebble on the ground in frustration: “Women Are Not Tigers,” the first phase… failed.

“Hey! Don’t push! Don’t push!” In a daze, Old Song found himself in front of a bookstore, astonished by the surging crowd inside and the treasure-like expressions on the young men’s faces. He hastily grabbed a servant struggling out of the throng: “Young sir, what book is being sold today to cause such a frenzy?”

“Ho ho.” The gaunt-faced servant grinned mischievously. “You mean you don’t know? Today’s the release day of Chaotic Peach Blossoms .”

“Chaotic Peach Blossoms?” Old Song’s eyes widened.

“Yes, the new work by Lustful Scholar.” The servant scratched his cheek, pulling a peach-red bound book from his chest. Curious, Song Shenwei took it, listening as the servant continued: “They say this book tells the story of a city lord who was originally cold-hearted and emotionless.” Ding! Old Song’s heart leapt, excitedly flipping open the pages. To his surprise, the first thing he saw was a half-naked beauty illustration. Oh my! Scandalous, look at how little she’s wearing, look at the fine details, look... look, look, hmm? This woman looks quite nice. Appreciatively scanning further, mmm, just like that.

“One rainy day, he encounters a distressed young lady. Unable to resist her wet allure, they consummate their passion in an abandoned temple.” Tsk tsk, Old Song shook his head repeatedly. The writing was vivid yet refined, explicit yet orderly—remarkably… His throat tightened; it was remarkably captivating. “After tasting the pleasures of intimacy, the city lord begins to indulge in collecting beauties—coquettish ones, pure ones, all kinds. He spends nights with multiple women.” The servant rattled on, then suddenly felt parched. Turning around, he saw Old Song clutching the book, unwilling to blink.

“Hey!” The servant glared at him. “If you like it, go buy your own copy. Stop hogging mine—my young master is bedridden and counting on this to pass the time!” With that, he snatched the book and ran off.

Even the sickly ones are fond of it. Song Shenwei smiled and nodded. Phase two of the “Women Are Not Tigers” plan was coming together! He clapped his hands, laughing heartily: Let’s call it “Spring Chaos Amidst Peach Blossoms!”

With that thought, he narrowed his eyes dangerously, eyeing the overcrowded bookstore. For the sake of their young master, Old Song was willing to risk it all. With a burst of energy, he darted into the crowd, leaving chaos in his wake—men tumbling, screams echoing.

Moments later, Old Song emerged from the bookstore, holding a copy of Chaotic Peach Blossoms, his hair disheveled, basking in the crowd’s resentful stares with immense satisfaction.

Before he could revel in his triumph, a loud shout came from behind: “Master Song!”

Oh no, oh no—it was the infamous “Gossip Zhang” from the provincial office. Just as he was about to hide the erotic book, a large face popped up beside him: “Chaotic Peach Blossoms .” Startled, he turned his head, locking eyes awkwardly with the man. After a moment, Old Song spoke first: “Brother Zhang, actually, the situation is…”

“Gossip Zhang” frowned, closing his eyes and nodding gravely: “No need to explain, no need to say anything.” He patted Old Song’s shoulder gently. “Master Song, you’ve truly endured much.”

Old Song’s heart sank, his lips trembling as he nodded tearfully: “Mm! Mm!” For the young master, all these years—hadn’t he suffered enough?

Sighing deeply, Gossip Zhang watched the emotional Old Song. The poor man’s wife had died nearly twenty years ago, and he had never remarried. All these years alone, relying on erotic novels to soothe his soul—it wasn’t easy, truly not easy. Glancing at the drifting peach petals in the air, he pondered: Perhaps Master Song’s springtime has arrived. Maybe it’s time for a matchmaker to find him a new wife—after all, suppressing oneself for too long isn’t healthy.

How many days had it been? Old Song stared intently at the erotic book atop Ye Jinglan’s desk. Since he had secretly placed it there, Chaotic Peach Blossoms hadn’t moved an inch. He stole a glance at the young master, engrossed in reading the Pharmacopoeia . After some thought, he cleverly reasoned: Surely the young master is shy, fearing discovery if he flips through it, so he returns it to its original spot after each read. Yes, yes, it must be so. Covering his mouth to suppress a laugh, he quickly walked to the door: “Young Master, Old Song will take his leave now.”

Ye Jinglan looked up from his medical text and nodded toward him.

Song Shenwei’s brows twitched, his gaze turning sly as he eyed the peach-red cover at the corner of the desk. Chuckling lewdly, he whispered: “Take your time, take your time,” before slipping out with a lascivious grin.

Ye Jinglan watched him close the door coldly, then retreated back into his own world.

More than ten days later, Old Song could no longer laugh. Staring at the dust-covered Chaotic Peach Blossoms, his heart turned icy.

Three days later, Old Song erupted into laughter—he discovered the erotic book was gone. Hahaha! Finally couldn’t resist, eh? Thought so! No matter how cold-hearted, once someone tastes forbidden fruit, they’ll inevitably pore over it obsessively. Rubbing his hands together, he chuckled: Young Master, ah, Young Master. Next step—no more quenching thirst with mirages. Old Song will take you to experience the real thing!

“Hahahaha!” Truly, an old man indulging in youthful folly. He returned to the Song residence full of high spirits, but as soon as he entered the garden, he spotted Xiao’er crouching behind a rockery, giggling secretly. Song Shenwei tiptoed over and peered closely: “Hmm? Chaotic Peach Blossoms?”

“Ah! Father!” Song Xiao’er jumped up in shock. “You... you... when did you get here?”

An ominous feeling welled up in Old Song’s heart. Sternly, he asked, “Xiao’er, where did you get this book?” Please don’t let it be...

“I took it from the young master’s study.” Song Baoyan, oblivious to his father’s irritation, blurted out exactly what he shouldn’t have.

New grievances and old resentments exploded all at once. Old Song’s whiskers quivered, and his eyebrows shot up: “You little brat! Just wait till I deal with you!”

“Ai!” Song Xiao’er clutched his head and fled desperately around the garden. “If you want to punish someone, go after the young master—it wasn’t me who bought it!”

“Of course it wasn’t you!”

“Eh?”

“It was me who bought it!”

“What?!”

The “Spring Chaos Amidst Peach Blossoms” plan… failed…

Melancholy, such melancholy. Old Song wandered dejectedly around the island, once, twice—the repeated failures of the “Women Are Not Tigers” transformation plan had utterly crushed him. Sigh! Hadn’t he suffered enough?

“These young rascals are getting more and more brazen!” The elderly maidservants chatted idly by the well.

“You’re telling me! The other day, while I was bathing, a few pages from Lord Tianshu’s study were peeking through the door.” Alas, if only the young master had half their curiosity, he wouldn’t be so exhausted. Old Song hid behind a tree, looking up helplessly toward the sky.

“And there’s more! I heard those boys whose hair hasn’t even grown in yet love collecting women’s undergarments.” Boys liked undergarments? He tiptoed closer, ears pricked.

“Exactly! It’s said that they get excited just seeing a woman’s intimate things. Some of the lustier ones might even do...that...with a bellyband.”

“That?”

“You old hag, stop pretending to be innocent. You know exactly what I mean!”

“Shameless!”

“Hahahaha!”

The women burst into unrestrained laughter in front of the tree, while behind it, Old Song chuckled mischievously: Ah, how could he have forgotten—when he was young and naive, he’d been incredibly curious about women’s things too! He’d rushed things before, trying to leap directly to the goal. But really, he should have started with the basics, progressing step by step, step by step!

“Women Are Not Tigers,” Strategic Phase Three... “Awakening Through Bellybands!”

“Master Song!” A familiar voice called from behind him. The clamorous chatter abruptly ceased as the women fell silent and busied themselves with their tasks.

How had he run into him again! Old Song turned awkwardly, only to see “Gossip Zhang” craning his neck to peer behind the tree.

“Brother Zhang, actually...”

Before Song Shenwei could finish, Gossip Zhang cut him off with a wave of his hand: “No need to explain, no need to say anything.” He patted Old Song’s shoulder gently. “It’s not easy for you, truly not easy.”

Huh? Did he already know? What a kindred spirit! Two tears welled up in Old Song’s eyes instantly.

But little did he realize that this so-called “kindred spirit” was thinking: The iron tree has finally blossomed, and Master Song has finally come to his senses. Gossip Zhang glanced once more at the group of aunties by the well, his mind racing, and came to the following conclusion: So Master Song prefers women with wide hips, ample bosoms, and sturdy builds, eh? Unfortunately, all the maidservants here are married. If Master Song continues sneaking peeks, it might lead to some tragic moral drama. Tomorrow, he would send a matchmaker to find Master Song a new wife according to these standards—a favor among colleagues, after all.

That night, all was quiet. Old Song, clutching a peach-patterned bellyband in his sleeve, darted quickly into Ye Jinglan’s study. He craned his neck, looking left and right, then slammed the door shut with a “bang.”

Under the candlelight, Ye Jinglan sat upright, his phoenix eyes piercingly fixed on the oddly-behaving Song Shenwei.

“Young Master.” Old Song grinned nervously, fidgeting with his sleeve.

“What is it?” Ye Jinglan gave him a glance, continuing to polish “Midnight.”

“Well...” Should he reveal his “weapon” now? Old Song hesitated, pacing back and forth. In the end, he decided to lay some groundwork first, lest he startle his young master too suddenly. “Young Master, do you know the differences between men and women?”

Ye Jinglan shot him a disinterested glance, knowing full well that Old Song would keep talking regardless.

Sure enough, the man launched into his spiel: “The most important difference between men and women lies in their bodies. For example, men have Adam’s apples, while women don’t.” He slowly approached, coaxing, “Then, what do women have that men don’t?”

He smiled kindly at the silent young master, just about to utter the word “breast,” just about to unveil his ultimate “weapon.” But then Ye Jinglan casually pulled a blue-covered book from the shelf and hurled it straight at him. Old Song caught it clumsily and looked closely: The Woman’s Canon . Flipping through the table of contents, good heavens—every possible ailment afflicting women was listed. Compared to this, what he planned to say was mere drizzle.

Ye Jinglan shot him a sidelong glance and coldly said, “If you don’t understand something, ask me.”

Those six words left Old Song dizzy and disoriented. In the end, it was he who didn’t understand! Clutching the book, Song Shenwei stumbled out of the study in a daze, drifting out of Crescent Moon Island. He tilted his head back and howled mournfully to the sky. This wasn’t how the script was supposed to go! Hadn’t he suffered enough? Enough?! Wuuu...

The “Awakening Through Bellybands” plan… failed…

A few days later…

“Master Song!”

“Master Song!” Three or four matchmakers, adorned with red flowers and heavily made-up, giggled coquettishly as they lunged toward him.

Old Song stepped back, glancing up at the garden gate: Hmm? No mistake, this was his house.

“Whoosh!” “Whoosh!” “Whoosh!” Dozens of scrolls flew down from the peach trees in the garden.

Song Shenwei was forcibly dragged into the garden by these older women. They jabbered incessantly, one after another, like a cacophony of ducks. After listening for a while, Old Song finally understood—they had come to arrange a marriage for him, this old widower. He glanced absentmindedly at the scrolls but was horrified by the women depicted on them.

“Master Song!” The matchmaker surnamed Wang batted her eyelashes flirtatiously at him. “If you’re afraid of being overwhelmed by choice, why don’t we settle for each other?” Her massive face loomed closer. “This humble servant is thirty-eight, still an unopened flower.” As she spoke, she nudged Old Song’s waist with her heavy hips.

Song Shenwei’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed straight to the ground. Just before fainting, a single thought flashed through his mind:

Women are tigers!