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A thousand lights illuminate Yun City, the stars seem to descend, and the bright moon shines like frost. Invited by affection to admire the corridors, the sky is clear, and the water carries a cool breeze.
Half-hidden faces send off lotus lanterns; the Lantern Festival is like a painting, with clouds dressing it in beauty. The east wind conveys spring's message, the phoenix soars to the heavens, and across the seas, it seeks its mate.
On the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, the Lantern Festival night pulls along a trail of cold moonlight. The streets are bustling with activity, and the long market filled with lanterns echoes with distant music. The shadows of lamps blend with starlight, casting a glow over the pearl-like towers, creating an ambiance where the lanterns warm the spring air beautifully.
“What? Not out yet?”
On the second floor of the teahouse, every seat overlooking the street was occupied. Those watching the moon occasionally glanced toward the turn at the street corner, as if expecting something.
“Boss, it's full again today.” The waiter said cheerfully, holding an empty teapot.
“Good, good,” a middle-aged man with a horse face fiddled with his abacus, unable to hide his satisfaction.
The Lantern Festival, a time for appreciating lanterns, admiring the moon, and enjoying spring plum blossoms. Thanks to that young and beautiful Minister of Rites—no, the newly appointed Minister Feng—the little teahouse had come to life. Every evening at six o'clock, their tea always ran out, not for any other reason than because this official passed by after work, and many scholars and literati wanted to catch a glimpse of him, hoping to see his peach-blossom smile. Today, before the sun even set, the place was already full, with everyone eagerly awaiting the official’s appearance on the street to enjoy the lanterns, fulfilling their wish to admire a beauty.
Tomorrow, he would have to commission a new god of wealth, modeled after Minister Feng.
“Hmm...” A light sigh from someone on the second floor drew the attention of the men present.
Where, where? Has she appeared?
Looking again, the scholars' eyes were simultaneously drawn to a slender figure. Amidst the bustling crowd, a woman walked slowly, step by step, seemingly absent-minded or perhaps injured. She wore a silver-purple feathered cloak, white fur edges concealing her face under the brim, making it hard to discern her features. Her gait was unlike the affected manner of contemporary women; each slow step swayed the willow-green skirt beneath her cloak, revealing embroidered cloud edges flowing with a unique charm.
Suddenly, the flower lanterns on the trees swung across, the lights indistinct, and the night breeze seemed to understand the collective yearning, suddenly blowing away the woman’s hood.
“Ah, truly the east wind understands matters but not feelings.” Someone sighed softly.
How could they forget that this Lantern Festival was one of the few days in the year when men and women mingled without reserve, yet noblewomen still masked their faces to avoid the gaze of lecherous men? Alas, alas.
“Yin” A clear, resonant sound echoed through the marketplace, enhancing the coldness of the moonlight.
Everyone turned towards the sound. Beautiful long hair fluttered in the night, subtly merging into the kaleidoscope of light. On that obstructive half-mask, a phoenix with gracefully trailing feathers was painted, its majestic form opening its long beak as if to sing softly.
“Yin” Another gust of wind, the sound growing more ethereal.
“Ah! Here they come!” The waiter’s voice woke the scholars from their reverie, and reluctantly, their gazes shifted.
Watching Minister Feng slowly approach from the street corner, an eerie silence enveloped the teahouse. After a while, someone finally spoke.
“Something… seems a bit off...”
Everyone couldn't help but nod silently. It was still that person, still that face, yet something felt different, unsettlingly so.
Could it be because they had seen that woman, thus...
With similar thoughts, their eyes searched again, but that picturesque figure was nowhere to be found.
“It's Lord Ning, and Minister Yu!”
“Ah! Lord Ding has also appeared!”
“That stunning youth following Minister Feng isn't that famed courtesan.”
This exclamation made the curious ones widen their eyes. The legendary male lover of Minister Feng had appeared. Tsk tsk, it wasn’t in vain that they had sat in the cold wind for so long. Though the beauty seemed slightly less radiant than before, they had waited for a good show!
Rubbing their hands in anticipation, they suddenly let them drop.
Lord Ding merely glanced at Feng Shaochu before turning away, his glance as cold as usual, without a trace of jealousy.
Could it all have been just rumors?
As everyone puzzled over this, they saw Lord Ning and Minister Yu push through the crowd towards that slightly less dazzling youth…
Ling Yiran looked at the person before him, a beautiful smile blooming on his lips.
Ah, finally deceived one, the youth couldn’t help but feel pleased. That cold glance from Lord Ding earlier felt like a bucket of ice water suddenly poured over his fragile young heart. He, Zhuque, known as the master of masks, being seen through so easily was quite a blow—a heavy blow.
Thinking about this, he lightly glanced at the Ninth Prince, imitating the woman’s demeanor perfectly.
Ling Yiran walked forward with wild abandon, as if clouds sprang up with every step. His beautifully shaped peach-blossom eyes glanced sharply at the boy behind the youth. This Yanqiu, though tactfully retreating ten feet away, showed no hint of panic in his expression. This unusual calmness was the flaw. If Qingqing hadn’t figured out his plan, she might have suspected this seductive courtesan, and he could have rightfully helped her get rid of this thorn in her side.
This Yanqiu was too close to Qingqing. One day, he would kill him, definitely.
Though his heart thought this way, Ling Yiran smiled lightly. Leaning down, he seemingly whispered intimately to Zhuque: “Where is she?”
These three words struck like an iron hammer, shattering that already frozen young heart mercilessly.
Yan Lu slumped his shoulders, looking dejectedly: “She left before me. With her condition, she shouldn’t have gone far.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed Ling Yiran’s charming face, unnoticed even by himself. Thinking about her condition, he couldn’t help but feel some regret, which baffled him. Wasn’t it for her own good? Why should he blame himself, what was there to regret? But lately, her eyes held resentment, and she had grown somewhat distant. Thinking of this, Ling Yiran narrowed his eyes, his gaze growing increasingly dark and inscrutable.
Yan Lu, seeing his unpredictable master, swallowed nervously: “She’s wearing the phoenix mask you prepared; she should be easy to recognize.”
“Hmph! Did I say I was going to look for her?” Ling Yiran’s tone was sharp, his eyes’ coldness masking his true feelings.
“But...” Yan Lu stammered, cautiously glancing afar, “But Lord Ding has already gone.”
Ling Yiran cursed inwardly, stepping forward but then stopping abruptly, raising an eyebrow at Yan Lu who couldn’t suppress a smirk: “What are you smiling about? You’re full of flaws when you smile.” His hazy peach-blossom eyes glanced at the street corner, smiling with a hint of mischief, “If you can’t even fool them, go to the gate tomorrow to receive your punishment.”
Upon hearing this, Yan Lu suppressed his laughter, eyeing the two approaching figures as if preparing for battle, his lips instantly drooping.
His dear father! Had he seen correctly? One was Song Baoyan, the most cunning and deceitful around Lord Ding, capable of any trickery. The other was Minister Yu, whose sharp eyes and deep schemes doubled Yan Lu’s own. Could he refuse this mission? Ah, Master! Master! Don’t leave in such a hurry, can we negotiate a lighter punishment before you go?
“Yunqing.” Behind him came Yu Ning’s unmasked affectionate call.
Instantly covered in goosebumps, Yan Lu trembled as he turned back: “Ah, Minister Yu.”
Yu Ning stopped five steps away, staring fixedly at him, making his scalp prickle repeatedly.
What? Did he call him wrong? His master usually addressed Minister Yu this way, right, right?
Suppressing his unease, Yan Lu met his gaze steadily.
After a while, Yu Ning gave a slight bow: “I have matters to attend to, so I’ll take my leave.”
“Ah, ah.” Yan Lu’s lips faltered, watching Yu Ning’s retreating figure with tears welling up: His skills hadn’t declined that fast, had they?
“Minister Feng?”
A polite and friendly voice soothed his wounded soul like a spring breeze. Suppressing the urge to laugh, Yan Lu replied: “Ah, Minister Song.”
“On this bright night, how about we stroll together? Would Minister Feng do me the honor?”
“Delighted.” Yan Lu felt somewhat elated. A simpleton is good, a fool is even better.
“Yun Capital truly lives up to its reputation as the Pearl of Donglu. The streets are filled with prosperity, and the city is adorned with verdant splendor.” Song Baoyan admired the lantern-lit trees and couldn’t help but praise them.
“Yes, yes.”
“Baoyan originally thought the wealthiest place under heaven was our Water Moon Capital, but seeing Yun Capital’s prosperity now makes me realize how arrogant I was.”
“Indeed!” Yan Lu immediately realized his mistake and quickly corrected himself: “Minister Song is too kind.”
“Not at all!” Song Baoyan grabbed his arm and chuckled softly, “Yesterday, purely by chance, I saw one of your servants digging a hole in the backyard. Turns out he was burying silver. I estimated it to be worth a thousand taels.” He looked up at the starry sky and lifted one side of his lips, “On such a fine night, why don’t we go treasure hunting together?”
Yan Lu glanced at Yanqiu following behind, wanting to be angry but not daring to be. Anger swelled in his chest, rising and falling.
“That servant usually behaves suspiciously; the silver is likely ill-gotten. If we take it out to help the poor, it would be a virtuous deed.”
Kill you with my eyes. Yan Lu loved hoarding wealth, disliked banknotes, and preferred burying silver at home. What did it matter to this Song fellow? Moon, oh moon, why did you let this scoundrel see! Why!
“Does the master implicitly approve? Great, it wasn’t in vain that I risked falling yesterday, climbing tall ladders and scaling high walls to investigate carefully.” Song Baoyan curved his eyebrows and smiled with extreme hypocrisy.
Little fellow, pretend all you want in front of my sharp-eyed Song Second Brother. While the night is still young, let’s play slowly...
...
The colorful clothes chilled slightly, and on the green stone bridge fluttered a uniform crimson hue. A graceful lady wearing a magpie-branch flower mask stood stunned, her eyes shimmering with moisture. Half a moment later, she abandoned her servant and rushed into the crowd.
“Madam! Madam!”
Dazed, half-awake, she followed the delicate youth ahead, mesmerized, staring unblinkingly at the blood mole on his ear.
It must be a dream. Although she hadn’t had such dreams for a long time, it must be a dream, surely.
“This jade ornament is truly exquisite.” A high-ranking official ahead sighed, reluctantly putting down the white jade in his hand, “Unfortunately, I didn’t bring enough money.” He glanced sideways.
“Hehe...he...” A slightly shorter man laughed awkwardly, “Boss, wrap it up.”
“Oh dear, how can this be, how can we let Minister Feng spend his money!” The tone sounded sincere, without a second meaning.
“Minister Song, please don’t be so polite.” The short man’s fingers trembled slightly as he paid, seeming reluctant.
“Thank you very much.” The tall man took it without hesitation, then politely turned and asked, “Yanqiu, since your master is being unusually generous today, why don’t you pick something as well?”
Yanqiu, this child is called Yanqiu? The woman murmured the name to herself, and after a while, her eyes widened suddenly. Isn’t he the infamous favored courtesan of Minister Feng, rumored all over recently? How could it be him?
Her mind recalled various rumors about Yanqiu. Each thought peeled another layer from her heart. One by one, dripping with blood, scattered amidst the brilliantly lit market.
“No desires.” Yanqiu answered flatly.
“Such a peculiar child.” The tall man curiously examined him, “Desireless, like a monk in a temple.”
Yanqiu didn’t refute, quietly following, quietly enduring the surrounding looks of disdain, lechery, or curiosity. Like fallen moonlight, his presence was so faint it seemed ready to vanish with the wind.
Behind him, the pale red shadow followed silently, eyes unwaveringly fixed on the two blood moles on Yanqiu’s earlobe, afraid he would fly away if blinked.
Suddenly, the flow of people halted, and Yanqiu stopped as well. The woman behind him, not noticing, bumped straight into him.
Startled by the delicate body, he courteously stepped back: “My apologies.”
The youthful voice, laden with memories, abruptly awakened her long-dormant vibrant emotions. Her beautiful eyes couldn’t bear the weight of sorrow, bitter longing instantly spilling over.
“…” She opened her lips but couldn’t utter a sound.
Yanqiu looked at the lady before him, repeatedly confirming he hadn’t hurt her.
As the crowd began to move again, he slightly nodded and turned to walk forward. The woman panicked and moved forward but was pushed aside by the crowd. She reached out, only brushing his hair, the soft touch fleeting.
“Madam!” The maid caught up breathlessly, surprised to see her tear-streaked mistress with a flower mask, “Madam? What’s wrong?”
Yes, she was Lady Yuanwan, the First Rank titled Lady of Qing Country, the King’s rouge spy. Outwardly elegant, inwardly shedding bitter tears. And that notorious, despised kept youth might very well be her long-lost biological child, her child. To meet again like this, in such heart-wrenching dual worlds.
“Madam? Are you alright?” The maid supported her silently weeping mistress, lowering her voice, “Just now, this servant saw Liu Xunhe from Liang Country accompanying two girls releasing flower lanterns on the Bi River, seemingly the two sisters from the Qiu family.”
What use was crying? More than ten years ago, when her first husband sold her into the pleasure quarters, separating her from her infant son, she had already shed all her tears. Now, as her shattered dream wove itself into a tapestry, why cry? She should laugh.
Thinking this, she removed her flower mask and gently wiped her jade-like face: “Guo'er.” Her voice returned to calmness.
“Madam.”
“Send someone to investigate the courtesan named Yanqiu at Minister Feng’s residence.”
“Madam?” Guo'er cast a puzzled look.
“What?” Lady Yuan reprimanded, “Not long after the death of the Marquess Lei’s concubine, this boy was sent to Minister Feng’s house. Doesn’t that seem suspicious?” Each word felt like scraping her heart, but to avoid alarming the master, she could only find an excuse to send someone to investigate covertly.
“Understood, Madam.” Guo'er nodded sincerely.
Lady Yuan retracted her lingering gaze and turned to look at the glittering Bi River below the bridge: “You mentioned earlier that Liu Xunhe was accompanying the two Miss Qiu sisters in releasing lanterns?”
“Yes.”
“This gets interesting.” Lady Yuan’s lips elegantly curved upward.
From several social gatherings she had observed, the relationship between those two sisters soon to share one husband wasn’t as harmonious as it seemed on the surface. She had subtly stirred the younger sister’s thoughts and saw nothing but hatred in the girl’s eyes.
Tonight might bring an entertaining spectacle, a play aligning with the King’s wishes.
Graceful steps moved lightly, the shallow waves of her crimson skirt flipping, Lady Yuan elegantly descended the small bridge.
“Madam, this servant has a question I can’t understand.”
“Oh?” Her gaze scanned the dimly lit riverbank.
“Seventh Prince, born to the Empress, is the legitimate heir and should naturally be the rightful Crown Prince. So why?” Guo'er stole a glance at her mistress, lowering her voice, “Why does the King order us to sabotage the Seventh Prince’s grand plans?”
Lady Yuan glanced at her confidante; her flower mask concealed her expression: “The Seventh Prince’s biological mother is not Empress Dowager.”
“Eh?”
“The Empress married the then-Crown Prince, now our King, and remained childless for five years. Seeing Huafei and Defei from equally prestigious families give birth to princes, the Empress presented her dowry maiden to the King. The maiden dutifully bore the Seventh Prince and handed him over to the Empress to raise.”
“And that maiden?” Guo'er asked curiously again.
Lady Yuan smiled amusingly at her, giving a light snort: “What do you think?”
Guo'er gasped, blushing with shame. Indeed, there was no need to ask. Such a foolish question—it was her stupidity. “No wonder,” she muttered to herself.
“Hmm?” Lady Yuan searched for the three figures in the crowd.
“No wonder the King doesn’t favor this prince, ordering us to obstruct the marriage between the Qiu family and the Liu family from Liang Country. So this is why.” She thought internally, disliking his mother’s lowly status and deliberately throwing obstacles.
Lady Yuan gave her a profound look, remaining silent, letting her speculate wildly.
Indeed, the heart of an emperor is not something a little girl can comprehend. Though the King’s health was failing, he was still the ruler of Qing Country as long as he didn’t abdicate. The Seventh Prince’s frequent contact with foreign countries, in the King’s eyes, was a sign of disrespecting royal authority and pressuring him to abdicate. Which king doesn’t desire immortality, eternal worship by his subjects, especially her ambitious, world-concerned master? The Seventh Prince’s fault wasn’t his birth, but his intentions.
“No, it's not you, right? Right?”
Following the direction of the shadows, the pale yellow moonlight gradually seeped into an inky hue. On the edge between light and dark hid another young woman, concealed in the bridge’s arch, craning her neck to look. Her masked face was covered with dim shadows. In the thicker smoky hues, two more indistinct frail figures lurked.
The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. He had merely come to find someone but inadvertently witnessed such a drama. The red robe blended seamlessly into the night's crevices, silent and unnoticed.
“Ye Lang.” The maiden called softly, trembling as she approached. In that instant, the pear-white figure soared away like a celestial crane.
“Ye Lang!” Her voice broke, turning to chase after him when suddenly a stone shot out from the bridge arch, striking her pressure point.
“Who?” The maiden asked through gritted teeth, her back turned. “Which lowlife dares to take advantage of my predicament?”
The girl under the bridge slowly emerged, deliberately amplifying her footsteps, as if concealing something.
“A man?” The maiden's tone tightened. “Don't dare to act recklessly! I'm no ordinary girl; my aunt is the current Queen. You'd best leave quickly, or else... or else...” Her shadow loomed behind her, providing no information. Her voice began to waver. “My husband will be here soon. He... he... his martial arts are unmatched, far beyond your kind.” Her rigid body started to sway slightly, indicating her efforts to break free from the pressure point's restraint.
Before she could succeed, the girl behind her delivered a swift hand chop, and the slender maiden collapsed directly.
“Hmph.” The girl sneered, removing her mask to reveal a twisted visage. “Sister? A bastard like you dares to call yourself my sister?” She spat contemptuously. “If not for that damned Xie Sichen, how could I, Tang Miaomiao, become the laughingstock of the jianghu, forced to smile and attach myself to your Qiu family? Now look at you, this bastard climbing onto Brother Liu, making me your concubine!”
The girl pulled out a small dagger, its cold gleam reflecting on her face, contorting her smile grotesquely.
“What old acquaintance? Clearly just an ex-lover! You're as shameless and despicable as your mother!” She slashed the maiden's silk clothes one cut at a time. “Let's see what face you’ll have left to be the main wife marrying off to Liang Country after tonight!”
The maiden lost consciousness completely, lying face down on the ground. Her beautiful white skin was gradually exposed under the chilly moonlight, partially hidden by disheveled long hair, adding a touch of provocative allure.
After a while, the girl looked down at her handiwork, her gaze like a venomous snake scanning back and forth. Suddenly her complexion paled, and she viciously tore the amethyst pendant from the maiden’s neck, leaving a deep bloody mark.
“Mine, all mine!” The girl kicked the maiden over.
Two crimson plum blossoms adorned her jade-like chest, swaying with decadent charm under the faintly fragrant plum blossoms.
The girl pocketed the amethyst and crossed through the mingling lights and shadows, running headlong into the bustling lantern market without a backward glance.
“Lady,” came a soft whisper from under the bridge after a while, “Are they really sisters?”
“Birds fight over food, let alone humans?” This elegant murmur revealed the identity. Ling Yiran faintly curved his lips—it was Lady Yuanwan. It seemed everything was under the King's control.
“That Miss Tang is too ruthless, destroying her sister's reputation so cruelly.” The little maid sighed.
Mistress and servant successively walked past the gracefully twisted plum branches, failing to notice the non-plum red petals among them.
“Guo’er, once you’ve seen the royal family’s power struggles, you'll think this Miss Tang is too merciful. All she took was reputation.”
“...Lady...”
Their words and phrases drifted along the long riverbank, gradually fading away. Ling Yiran stepped out of the plum grove, his smile unwavering as he moved upstream. Leisurely, he stepped over the fallen jade beauty blocking the road. Beneath his brocade robe, his long boots gently swept away, leaving no trace as he kicked the hastily abandoned rose mask into the river.
The flowing water murmured, swallowing the last hint of flaw.
“No moon, no sleep for you; longing for the beauty, my heart entwined…”
Under the apricot-yellow moon, red robes fluttered. The lingering, melodious chant harmonized with the plum branches.
...
A sea of plum trees covered both banks of the upper reaches of the Bi River. The blooming plums and dense branches embraced the apricot-yellow moonlight. The night wind rustled, and by the riverside stood a silver-purple figure, seemingly like the moon descending from the branches.
Yu Ning stared wide-eyed, unblinking. He approached softly, fearing to startle the moonlit beauty. Not yet within two zhang, he saw the person of his dreams casually break off a thin branch, slightly turning her head back. Delicate moonlight flowed down along her elegant profile, silently cascading like water.
Yu Ning's heartbeat thundered. Despite his utmost restraint, he couldn’t suppress the wild joy in his heart. He quickened his pace against the wind, only to see that within five feet of the beauty, the night breeze suddenly stopped, and the plum petals on the ground didn’t stir at all. Yu Ning halted again, smoothing his flying robes, his voice laden with affection: “Yunqing.”
Stillness enveloped the plum shadows and the still figure. Around Yunqing, all vitality ceased.
He wanted to move closer but was held back by an overwhelming presence, unable to lift his feet.
“Yunqing…” he whispered.
Suddenly, the silver-purple figure leapt up. The strange suffocation vanished instantly. Yu Ning hurried forward, watching her leisurely leap onto the plum branches and then fly towards the opposite riverbank.
She could barely stand during morning court, yet now she managed to use lightness kung fu. Does she really not want to see him? A wave of bittersweet emotion swirled in Yu Ning’s heart, unconsciously furrowing his brows.
The graceful figure floated to the middle of the river. Suddenly, her footing faltered, and she seemed about to fall. At that moment, a streak of pear-white flew in from afar, like a wild crane swooping down, catching the damp-cloaked figure. In the blink of an eye, they disappeared from sight.
Petals floated, carrying a faint, cold fragrance, intensifying the sense of detachment. Yu Ning stood alone on the shore, gazing at the broad river. The beloved figure was across the waters, but the separation wasn’t the reachable Bi River. With a light sigh, he looked up at the vast sky, glittering stars above. That person was seemingly floating in the middle of the water.
...
In the gentle brightness of the night, two figures flitted past like fleeting shadows. A clear whistle resounded in the wind.
Moonlight tilted upwards, meeting the cold moonlight in Ye Jinglan's eyes.
He was angry, why?
Confused, Moonlight felt herself stop, falling naturally into the medicinally scented embrace. Ye Jinglan’s handsome face drew close, his tongue forcing her lips open. She gasped, and the strong masculine scent surged in. Unlike his usual gentle, shallow kisses, this kiss was like a turbulent whirlpool, dominantly sweeping through her lips and teeth, spreading heavy anger.
She did indeed hide something. Ye Jinglan angrily entangled her slightly cool tongue, mercilessly sucking, eliciting a soft moan from her. Earlier, he had seen her channeling her energy to suppress her breathing, the eerie silence arousing his suspicion. No wonder her hands remained cold even in midsummer, her body temperature lower than normal. So that was it!
After a while, Ye Jinglan withdrew, quietly observing the girl before him.
Her red lips shone with moisture, her breaths light and steady, a touch of annoyance in her brow. She glared, glared again, and glared once more. The instigator showed no remorse, instead locking eyes fiercely. Her glare made her feel guilty, softening her resolve to speak feebly: “It was an accident earlier. I’m almost fully recovered.” She stole a glance; the man remained as immovable as a mountain. She pursed her lips and continued, “Alright, I admit it. Using lightness kung fu is still somewhat strenuous. I won’t use it until I’m fully healed.”
As she finished, she tried to meet his gaze openly but was startled by those phoenix eyes, involuntarily feeling guilty again.
“Do you still intend to keep hiding things from me?” Ye Jinglan's cold voice resonated, momentarily stiffening Moonlight.
She moved her lips defensively, “Not at all.”
Ye Jinglan raised both hands, firmly gripping her waist, forcing her to meet his gaze: “Up to which level have you practiced the Reckless Sword?” His tone rising, clearly displeased. He stared at the girl before him, whose eyes betrayed unusual emotions, as if trying to lock her into his heart with a single glance.
Moonlight avoided his gaze, looking straight at their shadows on the ground: “Sixth level.”
“The upper volume of the sword manual details six levels of sword techniques. The Reckless Sword’s style is eccentric, focusing on agility for victory. The lower volume emphasizes internal strength cultivation, with fierce and deviant techniques. Practicing it can rapidly enhance power, but it easily damages the heart meridians, thus practitioners rarely live long.” Ye Jinglan met her astonished gaze, narrowing his phoenix eyes. “After treating your wounds the first time, I asked Brother Wuyu why your master forced you to practice such an unorthodox skill?”
“My master didn’t force me; I insisted on learning it.” Moonlight hastily interjected. “At ten, I suffered Qi deviation, losing much of my progress and finding it harder to learn orthodox martial arts than before.” She raised her head, her eyes holding moonlight. “Xiu Yuan, I’m not like you, a prodigy of that caliber. My mind suits unconventional paths. One day in the valley, I accidentally stumbled upon an old sword manual, an epiphany enlightening me. But days later, it was discovered, and Master immediately confiscated the scroll. Afterward, I knelt in the rain for three days and nights. Unable to resist my stubborn nature, Master gave me the upper volume of the sword manual.”
Ye Jinglan remained silent, his eyes sharp. “To which level have you practiced the Reckless Sword?” He asked again.
“I was too confident, thinking I could hide it from others.” She was backlit, her features somewhat blurred. Her red lips curved faintly, unreadable thoughts beneath her smile.
His arms tightened, and Ye Jinglan angrily pressed her against him. “I am not others.”
“Mm, not others.” She wrapped her arms around his narrow waist, slowly saying, “Though my memory isn’t photographic, it’s quite good. When I first saw the sword manual, the lower volume interested me most.” She felt the pressure increase; this man exuded anger, as if wanting to embed her into his body. Though her lips twitched, her smile didn’t waver. “Master only gave me the upper volume to prevent me from practicing the unorthodox internal skills, not knowing I’d already memorized the lower volume. The seventh level of the Reckless Sword is Hand Blade; I mastered it at fourteen.”
The air above her head grew heavier, unlike his usual calmness.
“After leaving the valley, those who witnessed my Hand Blade have all entered the underworld, hence my senior brothers and sisters never noticed.” Under the moonlight, her smile was somewhat bleak. “Half a year ago, I advanced to the eighth level, Body Blade, using my body as a blade, piercing through. It was precisely because I used this technique that I was poisoned by Nineteen Sister of Ri Yao Sect, hidden within my body.”
“And now?” Ye Jinglan’s voice was tight, suppressing some unnamed emotion.
“After the punishment in court, I recuperated at home for half a month, fortuitously reaching the ninth level, Heart Blade.” She furrowed her eyebrows sharply. “Painful, Xiu Yuan, you’re hurting me so much.”
“Not even a fraction of my pain.” Ye Jinglan's voice was hoarse. He loosened his arms, his eyes pained as he looked down. “Was that the ninth level you just used?”
“Is... yes,” she murmured hesitantly, “but I haven't fully mastered it yet.”
What about after mastering it? He didn't want to ask, nor did he dare to. He could only soften his tone: “Don't practice it anymore.”
Moonlight's eyebrows trembled slightly; she didn't answer.
“I'm here for you,” he whispered softly.
“Xiu Yuan.” Her cold fingers touched his handsome face, her eyes shimmering with moonlight-like tears. “Heart sickness is something you can't help with.” She gazed at him unwaveringly. “If you were to cripple my martial arts, I would resent you, resent you for a lifetime.”
Ye Jinglan's gaze was heavy with reluctance. After a long pause, he finally lowered his right hand which had been poised behind her.
The plum grove was enveloped in mist that varied in density, blurring the apricot-yellow moonlight. Distant evening bells tolled, faint and vast, gradually fading into the wind.
After a long gaze, Ye Jinglan gently embraced the beauty and leaned down to whisper in her ear: “Qingqing, I've never believed in ghosts or gods, but today I want to make a wish.”
The delicate body in his arms froze.
“If you insist on cultivating this technique,” his cool lips curved faintly, his spring pond-like eyes rippling, he pressed down on her struggling figure, his voice clear yet slightly cold, “then may the gods take my life as well.”
“No!” She cried out, pushing him away fiercely. “Take it back, quickly take it back before the evening prayers end.”
The sound of evening prayers still echoed through the grove. His white robe fluttered, the moonlight casting a pale yellow hue on his garments, enhancing his ethereal and serene demeanor. His bright eyes were as clear as water, a faint smile gracing his lips, bringing vitality to his immaculate and elegant face.
The final bell toll sounded like smoke rising over the fields, curling and dissipating into the sky.
Her eyes brimmed with moonlit tears, her radiance melting like snow. Her heart twisted and turned, bittersweet emotions swirling along with the falling plum petals until they came to rest on a broken calyx, stopping abruptly. She moved forward dazedly, each step filling her eyes with more moonlit tears. Watching the approaching beauty, Ye Jinglan’s smile deepened. He opened his arms.
Their wide robes overlapped, and the moonlit tears in her eyes finally overflowed.
“You are too cruel...” Moonlight murmured.
Ye Jinglan half-lowered his eyes, his gaze filled with infinite spring warmth.
“You are too cruel.” Moonlight clutched his robe tightly, pressing the wet marks from her face onto his chest.
He chuckled deeply, like fine rain falling on lotus leaves.
“What are you laughing at?” Moonlight humphed softly.
Ye Jinglan lightly kissed her cloud-like hair: “You care for me more than your own life, how could I not be overjoyed?”
Her exquisite face seemed to blush under an invisible heat, a charming flush spreading across it. Who exactly cherished whom more than life itself?
With affectionate eyes, he gazed at her in his arms: “This way, I can rest assured.”
Moonlight raised her puzzled eyes.
“Three days ago, the officials sent by the King of Qing to the southwest were killed by bandits. Qian Tong has requested another envoy to enter Qingzhou. In two days, the King will likely receive his letter.” Ye Jinglan took a beautiful jade from his sleeve and personally hung it on her waist. “The Yunlang Paper Studio in Qingzhou is one of my properties in Mianzhou. The manager there recognizes this jade.”
Her fingertips lightly caressed the smooth surface of the jade; Moonlight's eyes were misty with haze: “Since you’ve told me these things, you should know my choice.” She glanced timidly.
Ye Jinglan’s somewhat cold profile under the moonlight appeared gentle, imbued with warm tenderness: “I understand.”
“You are too cunning,” she muttered, biting her lip, her voice sounding almost coquettish.
This man had made such a poisonous vow and only revealed the truth after learning her intentions. This was clearly leveraging his life, confident that she wouldn’t bear to die early.
Her heart swayed, love burning in her chest. She slightly tilted her head and leaned against his chest tenderly: “It seems I owe you more and more.”
“Then repay me with your future,” a light smile spread across his face.
Under the waning moonlight, he and she walked into a beautiful floral missive, their enduring affections entwined poignantly on the faintly yellow paper...
...
Downstream, a small boat with a canopy floated gently, its oar stirring the lotus lanterns on the river.
“We’ve reached the shore.” The boatman steadied the long bamboo pole, lightly touching the aquatic plants on the stone steps.
Pearl-white mingled with elegant silver-purple; two silhouettes emerged from the grasshopper-like boat.
Upon reaching the shore, a flash of fiery red stepped out from the shadows. Moonlight suddenly froze, her willow-green robe edges slightly swaying.
“Qingqing, how was your Lantern Festival night?” Ling Yiran sneered, glaring fiercely at Ye Jinglan beside her.
The three figures stood firm, forming an inseparable circle—unable to advance or retreat.
For a while, the crowd surged towards one spot in the lantern market, interspersed with excited whispers.
“Hurry and see! Hurry and see! A woman under the Pipa Bridge was insulted by thieves, her clothes stripped, lying on the shore!”
“Oh my, I heard she's quite a beauty!”
“Tsk, death is a minor matter, but losing one's virtue is grave. How will she live now!”
Ling Yiran’s languid peach blossom eyes flicked upwards, carrying a faint, ambiguous smile: “Lord Ding’s martial prowess is extraordinary; naturally, his hearing is exceptional.” His implication was clear: those hidden under the Pipa Bridge were eavesdropping, something Ye Jinglan should have known.
So what if he did? What concern was it of his? Ye Jinglan shot Ling Yiran a glance, his expression remaining cold.
“Hmph.” Ling Yiran let out a soft rebuke, stepping forward to break the balance among the three. He took out the Phoenix Song mask from his bosom and handed it to Moonlight. “No matter what wish you made, what belongs to you is yours; there's no escaping it.”
Ling Yiran looked at the lost beauty before him, smirking arrogantly.
The fierce wind stirred their robes, contrasting vivid red and white entwining with silver-purple and light green, difficult to part, hard to untangle.
Alas, the wishes she made ultimately turned to naught.
As the dust rose, a clear cry resounded.
The phoenix flew high in the sky, seeking its mate across the four seas.
Years later, who would she drink with, under the intoxicating moonlight of the Lantern Festival...
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