CT - 80

Currently, Tinghua Terrace was guarded by the Jin Tian Guard, almost forgotten by the people in the imperial city. Choosing this place to meet seemed risky, but in fact, it wasn’t. After all, Luo Wei rarely visited Tinghua Terrace when she was Empress, and Song Lan, unaware that the Jin Tian Guard had already acknowledged their old master, simply thought that with them guarding, there was no need to send secret agents to monitor.

Tinghua Terrace was originally located in a secluded part of the Bian River, far from the bustling area around Fengle Tower. After the Lantern Festival night that year, this place was converted into an altar, and initially, people often came to worship. Later, Song Lan, under the pretext of repairs, sealed it off for half a year, and it gradually became desolate and silent.

As long as the lights around Tinghua Terrace were extinguished, committing murder here would not be noticed by the bustling areas of the Bian River.

Ye Tingyan stood beneath the cold golden statue, his hands behind his back, watching the setting sun at the end of the Bian River.

Since autumn began, the days had become much shorter, and the time of sunset was gradually earlier. The afterglow of the sunset dyed the entire Bian River a pale gold. Below Fengle Tower, pleasure boats drifted—all the city’s prosperity was there, while this place was utterly silent.

The Jianjia Bridge in front of Tinghua Terrace was like a dividing line, separating the river into two ends: hell and the human world.

The afterglow carried residual heat, shining on his eyelids. Perhaps from staring at the sun for too long, his eyes began to ache faintly, and unnoticed tears moistened his eyelashes.

This golden statue depicted the Crown Prince of Chen Ming sacrificing to heaven with his sword in former years. Song Lan feigned various poses of longing, so the artisans sculpted it with extreme care, carving every detail.

Ye Tingyan looked up and saw that the golden statue was handsome and radiant, as if a god had descended to earth, completely unaware of any troubles in the human world.

Then he lowered his head and looked at the calm water below the terrace.

There was no wind today, and no waves disturbed the river. He saw his own blurry reflection.

He had removed the crimson official robe he wore when leaving the palace and changed into a pink gauze robe, with an inner garment of light jade green, like newly sprouted willow buds. The jade green was very, very pale, almost white, but ultimately not white.

—He could only wear colors his beloved once favored, making a subtle attempt to please her.

The sun had just sunk into the distant long river, taking the gold with it, leaving behind a deep, dull blue. At this moment, he suddenly heard footsteps and instantly felt a layer of sticky sweat seep into his palms.

Ye Tingyan forced himself to turn around.

The dim blue sky was just enough for him to clearly see the face of the person approaching. Luo Wei removed her bamboo hat, and only then did he realize she had removed all her facial disguise. Her face was bare, she wore a simple white dress, and had not even applied lip rouge.

No one among the Jin Tian Guard failed to recognize her. They bowed and let her in.

Ye Tingyan stared intently at her. He had thought he wouldn’t dare to look at her, but who knew that at this moment, he couldn’t bear to tear his gaze away—she had looked like this when he first met her, and after all these years, she had hardly changed at all.

Yet he still had to face her with this false mask.

Luo Wei walked closer to him and looked up at the golden statue.

She had never dared to come to this place before. The statue was sculpted so lifelike, with flowing ribbons and uplifted eye corners. There was even a begonia flower picked out on the tip of the sword. The closer to home, the more timid one becomes; she didn’t know how to face him.

Then she lowered her head and looked at the person in front of her.

Ye Tingyan wore pink—she had once wondered why he loved to wear pink. Now, everything was clear. She reached out a finger to touch the shimmering pink gauze, and then instinctively took hold of his sleeve. Ye Tingyan gently raised his arm and held the hand that had slipped into his palm.

Luo Wei stared at their clasped hands, a pang of sourness filling her chest, yet she pretended to be nonchalant, even asking knowingly, “Why aren’t you wearing white anymore? I remember you used to love wearing white the most.”

Ye Tingyan gave a self-deprecating smile, not answering.

White symbolizes purity, the bone of a true gentleman.

Where could one seek the character of yesterday?

________________________________________

The tears in his eyes swelled, forming round droplets that fell heavily. Luo Wei lowered her head, letting him pull her into his embrace, carefully holding her.

She buried her head in his neck, the gentle, slightly sweet scent of sandalwood completely enveloping her, clearly telling her that this was reality, not a dream.

Ye Tingyan reached up and pressed the back of her head, hearing her muffled sobs.

Her hands tightly gripped his lapels, as if she wanted to push him away, but she couldn’t bear to. A dampness permeated the thin fabric over his shoulder, seeping into his body.

Fragments of shattered longing and yearning.

He no longer cared if she would shatter; he just couldn’t help but pull her even tighter—he was more fragile than her now. If they could shatter together, flesh mixed with blood, bones broken, melting into an inseparable mess, it wouldn’t be a bad thing.

“You...”

She sobbed, unable to form a complete sentence, finally daring to look up at that familiar yet unfamiliar face again.

The hand gripping his lapel loosened, trembling as it caressed his tear-streaked face.

Ye Tingyan kissed her fingers, tasting salty tears.

Luo Wei looked at him for a very, very long time.

Under her tearful, focused gaze, he couldn’t utter a single word, even wanting to lower his eyes and avoid her gaze.

The dim blue sky grew darker and darker, almost engulfing the two of them, while in the east, the moon’s shadow already appeared. Today was neither the beginning nor the end of the month; the moon was full, yet not entirely so.

He remembered Tinghua Terrace that year. The Lantern Festival night, the assassination of the Crown Prince. What died was not just the young heir, but also the towering palace he had built in his heart, which collapsed with a crash.

That grand palace was once so close to the holy dream, but in one step, it plunged into a vast, distant abyss.

Only the widespread decay of withered blossoms remained, a luxurious rot.

His own self, unbearable to behold.

“What... are you afraid of?” Luo Wei, still crying, finally managed to speak a complete sentence again.

Receiving no answer, she asked again, “What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid you won’t recognize me,” Ye Tingyan answered with a trembling voice. He finally mustered his courage and spoke quickly, “I’ve fallen into a heart demon; I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I believed his words, believed you would betray me, and for that... I toyed with you, insulted you, coerced you, until the very last moment, when I could finally see this heart clearly. I was too scared... scared that when you saw me now, you would regret all your past sacrifices. I am not worth your sacrifice, you...”

He caressed Luo Wei’s face, but his last sentence abruptly changed the subject, murmuring, “You’ve grown so, so thin.”

Luo Wei gave a self-deprecating laugh: “...The me you saw in the inner court, wasn’t I unrecognizable? Since you believed it, why did you still hand the knife to me?”

Seeing his silence, Luo Wei said, “Then I ask you, in the Chongling Imperial Ancestral Temple, the moment I spoke, did you believe my words? I told you time and again that what I wanted was this world, even at the cost of surrendering myself to an outsider. Did you have even a hint of suspicion in your heart?”

Ye Tingyan was startled. Only then did he realize that on that chaotic night, after she called out “Your Highness,” he felt as if everything had become clear, and he truly no longer doubted her intentions.

He wanted to explain, but he was afraid she wouldn’t believe him. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say to make her believe him. As he was repeatedly deliberating, Luo Wei suddenly released his hand.

She stepped out of his embrace and took a few steps back: “That day you told me not to leave, what did you want to tell me?”

Ye Tingyan held out his hands and replied, “I, I wanted to personally bring you into my study, but I always hesitated, afraid you wouldn’t believe me. When you saw... saw the words ‘Ling Ye,’ what you felt first, was it happiness?”

He repeated with difficulty, almost pleading, “The moment you knew I was still alive, were you happy?”

The wind blew over the un-dried tear streaks on her face. Luo Wei looked at him and suddenly laughed out loud. She turned to glance at the Bian River, which was now enveloped by night, and then suddenly, crossing over the stone balustrade by Tinghua Terrace, she flipped over and jumped down!

Ye Tingyan’s heart constricted. Almost without thinking, he took a few steps forward and jumped down with her!

He only felt fear as the wind whistled past his ears.

The moon shone coldly overhead. The scene of him falling from Tinghua Terrace that year replayed vividly. The river water was icy cold, and the old wound on his right shoulder still throbbed faintly. He couldn’t swim, struggling to surface, but someone grabbed his ankle, pulling him into the dark riverbed.

So he could only watch helplessly as the moon on the water’s surface receded.

But this time was completely different.

When he fell into the water and struggled chaotically, someone held his shoulders.

Ye Tingyan instantly stiffened all over, almost fainting directly.

But what obsession sustained him? What obsession? He entered the water to find someone. This time, he was not alone; he had to find—

The hands on his shoulders lifted him, bringing him back to the surface. As he was about to suffocate, a pair of lips like rose petals pressed against his, giving him a breath.

Then Ye Tingyan suddenly awoke.

He opened his eyes and saw Luo Wei’s face, saw the moon above her head, and unconsciously kissed her deeper and deeper until Luo Wei bit him. Only then did he break away, gasping for air.

He heard Luo Wei ask, “Were you scared just now?”

Ye Tingyan answered from the heart, “Yes, I was.”

“Then why did you jump down?”

“Because—”

He wept bitterly between reality and illusion, answering loudly, “Because of you! When I saw you, I couldn’t think of anything else. I followed you. It’s nothing more than... nothing more than Tinghua Terrace from back then. Even if it were a sea of fire, I would burn with you!”

The sound of a boat breaking through the water came. Ye Tingyan laboriously raised his head and saw Zhou Chuyin standing on the boat’s gunwale.

He suddenly realized that this must have been Luo Wei’s arrangement before coming to Tinghua Terrace; Zhou Chuyin had been waiting here in the boat for a long time.

“Yes, you had no time to think, no need to think,” Luo Wei breathed, close to his ear. “None of this is your fault, nor is it mine. Why must we argue and contend so clearly? Between us...”

Warm droplets mingled with the river water, slowly flowing down his neck.

Zhou Chuyin and a guard together pulled them out. Luo Wei knelt on the boat’s gunwale, and he lay between her legs, shivering wet, his fingers tightly clutching her dripping sleeve, unwilling to let go.

“—Between you and I, how can there be any debt owed?”

He finally dared to reach out, embracing her tightly, and burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Luo Wei laughed with him. The oars shattered the reflected light on the river, gently moving the small boat towards a dark, unknown destination.

Though the reflection was broken, the moon remained in the sky.

The autumn wind was very cold, but in such an embrace, Ye Tingyan felt no cold at all. Luo Wei bent down and pressed her forehead against his, their breaths intertwined, without a hint of ambiguity, only a deep affection of two people on the run, yet relying on each other.

They struggled in the cold river for a long time, finally swimming back to each other’s side.

Twelve years of wandering, like desolation. The reflected water merges with the sky. Two tears fall before you.