CXD - 60

Jiang Zhiyi stared into Yuan Ce’s upturned eyes, seeing her own fleeting look of panic reflected in his gaze.

The snake had already slithered away, but her heart was pounding even harder than during the initial shock. It was as if she felt guilty for not truly liking Shen Yuance—or perhaps for something else entirely.

This feeling was familiar, reminiscent of the past few months when she played Yi Yi from those romance novels. Every time she grew close to him...

Jiang Zhiyi snapped back to reality and looked down at their current situation.

...This was far too intimate, far too close!

Her gaze fell on her hands clasped around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist. Jiang Zhiyi’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she abruptly let go as if burned.

But though her hands and legs loosened, her body remained firmly attached to him, unmoving.

“Put me down...” Jiang Zhiyi panted, pushing against him.

“Using me and then discarding me.” Yuan Ce sighed faintly, his hand lingering on the small of her back, caressing it lightly before he prepared to set her down—

A sudden jolt of tingling sensation shot through Jiang Zhiyi’s waist, causing her to spasm uncontrollably. She let out a startled cry and nearly collapsed.

It seemed he had inadvertently touched a sensitive spot on her body. Yuan Ce was momentarily stunned but quickly steadied her before gently placing her back on the ground. Looking down, he saw her cheeks flushed and her hand rubbing her waist awkwardly.

“That’s—” Yuan Ce blinked at her. “Your ticklish spot?”

“No!” Jiang Zhiyi glared at him, her legs wobbling like jelly as she forced herself to walk upward. After a few steps, she glanced back, only to see him still savoring her amusing reaction. “We’re here to pay respects to your brother. Be serious.”

They continued winding their way uphill. The heat in Jiang Zhiyi’s cheeks gradually subsided, and Yuan Ce stopped teasing her.

At the foot of the mountain, they hadn’t noticed much, but the higher they climbed, the more they were struck by the desolate barrenness of this solitary hill. Jiang Zhiyi completely forgot about the fear of snakes, the dirt, and instead felt a chilling cold seep into her bones.

As she gazed at the bleak landscape, images of Shen Yuance in his fine robes, laughing and riding freely through the streets of Chang’an came to mind. Such a vibrant young man, full of life, had died in the prime of his youth, in battles to protect his homeland. Yet after death, he wasn’t honored with a hero’s shrine, nor could he be buried in the family cemetery. He was left in this wild, desolate place...

When they finally reached their destination and saw the unmarked gravestone, Jiang Zhiyi felt as though she had been nailed to the muddy ground. Unable to take another step, she stood frozen, staring at the hastily made grave and the crooked wooden marker that seemed carelessly erected.

“Why is it so crude…”

Yuan Ce stood beside her, gazing at the gravestone with a distant look in his eyes. In a low voice, he said, “Crude ensures it won’t be disturbed.”

Jiang Zhiyi suddenly understood. This isolated hill wasn’t guarded like a proper cemetery. If the grave were too elaborate, it would attract thieves. More importantly, a respectable-looking tombstone without an inscription might arouse curiosity about the identity of the person buried there. When Shen Yuance first died, no one could predict whether the secret of the twins could remain hidden. Fearing someone might investigate and dig up the coffin for verification, they had to be extremely cautious.

Even she found this scene difficult to bear, let alone Pei Xueqing.

Seeing Pei Xueqing standing motionless in front of the gravestone for a long time, Jiang Zhiyi turned her head away, unwilling to disturb her. She decided to give Pei Xueqing some private time to talk to Shen Yuance.

Yuan Ce also remained where he was, giving her the space. Though the grave was crude, the weeds had just been cleared. Jiang Zhiyi guessed that Yuan Ce must have visited and paid respects shortly after returning to Hexi.

Standing at a distance, Jiang Zhiyi watched as Pei Xueqing knelt before the grave and opened the food box, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Suddenly, she wondered—did Pei Xueqing harbor such deep affection for Shen Yuance? Had he also treated her well in return?

Was Shen Yuance a completely different person in front of Pei Xueqing than he was in front of her?

Fragmented memories that she hadn’t had time to sort through began surfacing in her mind. Jiang Zhiyi suddenly recalled the archery examination she had attended last December at Tianchong Academy. Afterward, she had told Yuan Ce that it was the first time she’d seen him shoot arrows and that she hadn’t had enough.

Hadn’t Yuan Ce asked her in response, “The first time?”

She had replied, “Yes, didn’t you always pretend to be clumsy at the practice grounds?”

At the time, Yuan Ce seemed to have silently agreed with her statement.

But she had said that because the story claimed that the real “Uncle Ce” wasn’t truly dissolute—he only pretended to be so while held hostage in the capital.

If Yuan Ce had tacitly agreed while pretending to be his brother, did that mean the embellishments in the story about the male protagonist were true?

“Did your brother already possess martial skills and knowledge of military strategy while in the capital?” Jiang Zhiyi suddenly turned her head and blurted out the question without preamble.

Yuan Ce was taken aback by her question. “Didn’t you already know that?”

Jiang Zhiyi froze. So… the story had somehow stumbled upon the truth, even regarding such secrets?

If Shen Yuance had been pretending to be frivolous, then why had he treated her so harshly back then…

Before she could delve deeper into these thoughts, Pei Xueqing suddenly swayed unsteadily.

Sanqi moved to step forward, but Pei Xueqing steadied herself after her stumble.

“I’ll go. It’s more appropriate for a woman.” Jiang Zhiyi lifted her skirt and hurried over, bending down to ask, “Lady Pei, are you feeling unwell?”

Pei Xueqing wiped her tears with her hand and looked up, her red-rimmed eyes filled with emotion. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re uncomfortable anywhere, just let me or General Shen know. We’re right behind you.”

“If the muddy ground doesn’t bother you, perhaps you could sit with me for a while?” Pei Xueqing pointed to the prayer mat on the ground.

Jiang Zhiyi glanced at the ground. In the past, she would have hesitated, but today—after seeing this solitary hill, this lonely grave—

What was truly dirty in this world wasn’t the mud. It was the hearts of those who forced heroes to be buried in desolate mountains, hidden from the light of day.

“A hero’s resting place—how could it be anything but clean? If you don’t mind my company, I’ll stay with you.” Jiang Zhiyi knelt down on the mat.

“How could I mind? Today, with Your Highness accompanying me, I actually had some things I wanted to say on his behalf.” Pei Xueqing gestured toward the gravestone.

“What things?” Jiang Zhiyi asked curiously.

“He did many cruel things and said many harsh words to you in the past. He always regretted them and wanted to apologize.”

Jiang Zhiyi froze, blinking in astonishment. “Apologize…?”

“He told me that the day he first crossed paths with you, the cricket really did accidentally jump onto you. He was used to being unruly, so naturally, he acted like a troublemaker. But he never expected you to have it crushed.”

“He didn’t treasure that cricket as much as he pretended to. What shocked him was how casually you decided its fate with a flick of your hand. It reminded him of the Emperor, who held absolute power over life and death, keeping him trapped in the capital.”

A lump formed in Jiang Zhiyi’s throat.

“So, at first, he misunderstood you. He thought you were like other nobles—cold-hearted and indifferent, taking pleasure in wielding power over others’ lives. Since he was determined to perfect his playboy persona, he began deliberately opposing you at every turn...”

“Until one day, when he attended a banquet in the palace. By chance, he overheard you speaking with your maid in the palace corridor. The maid asked you why you were forcing yourself to smile in the palace since it was the anniversary of Lord Ningguo’s death. You replied that precisely because it was your father’s death anniversary, you couldn’t show a sour face in the palace, lest the Emperor suspect you still resented your father’s sacrifice for his throne.”

“The maid then asked if you feared anything since you always acted properly. You said that because deep down, you harbored resentment, you didn’t act as uprightly as you seemed.”

These words sounded familiar—she must have said them—but Jiang Zhiyi had completely forgotten about that moment. She certainly never imagined Shen Yuance had overheard them.

Pei Xueqing shook her head, smiling faintly yet sorrowfully. “That day, he realized you were just like him—an unfree person. He deeply regretted all the hurtful words he’d said to you. But how could a self-proclaimed rogue ever apologize to someone he’d wronged? He never knew when he’d have the chance to say ‘I’m sorry’ to you…”

Jiang Zhiyi sat stunned, staring at the unmarked gravestone for a long time, unable to process this new story—a version of Shen Yuance entirely different from what she had known before. It was as if everything she remembered had been overturned by this lonely grave and the revelations surrounding it.

No wonder… During the final days before Shen Yuance’s departure for war, he hadn’t sought her out anymore. Instead, he avoided any gathering where she might appear, and she, unwilling to lose face, reciprocated by avoiding places he frequented.

Fragments of memories flashed through her mind, distant and blurred, like events from another lifetime.

Now, sitting before this crude grave, she found she could no longer recall how cruelly he had treated her or the hurtful words he had spoken.

After a long silence, Jiang Zhiyi was startled back to reality by the sound of flapping wings overhead.

If not for the series of coincidences these past months, she might never have learned the truth about him in her entire life.

Since fate had brought her here today—to Shen Yuance’s grave—receiving his belated apology and resolving this old grudge, she decided to bring closure to their shared history.

After some thought, Jiang Zhiyi picked up the wine jug beside her, poured a cup, and slowly spilled it in front of the grave.

“Shen Yuance, this cup is my apology for my childish behavior back then.”

She poured another cup and spilled it.

“This cup is my forgiveness for you.”

Pouring a third cup, Jiang Zhiyi raised her head, toasted the bird soaring across the vast blue sky above, and drank it herself.

“This last cup is for our next lives—may we both be free.”

________________________________________

On the way back, the carriage was silent. Jiang Zhiyi and Yuan Ce escorted Pei Xueqing to the inn where she was staying before returning home.

After Pei Xueqing left, Yuan Ce slid open the door and sat across from Jiang Zhiyi. Seeing her lowered head and subdued demeanor, he asked, “What sad words did Pei Xueqing say to you earlier?”

Jiang Zhiyi was surprised. “You didn’t eavesdrop?”

“I owed my brother that much respect,” Yuan Ce replied, recalling how solemnly she had poured those three cups of wine—a side of her he had never seen before.

Jiang Zhiyi glanced at him, tempted to make a sharp remark. But noticing the sadness lurking in his eyes beneath his teasing tone, she held her tongue.

Though he had visited his brother’s grave just days ago, she guessed each visit must be equally painful. Like how she felt every time she visited her parents’ graves over the past eleven years. Deciding to call a truce for the day in honor of Shen Yuance’s “I’m sorry,” she asked, “Did you and your brother maintain a close relationship despite being separated for so long?”

Yuan Ce narrowed his eyes slightly. “Are you genuinely concerned about my brother?”

Jiang Zhiyi was momentarily speechless. “Am I not asking about both of you? Do your ears only hear your brother’s name? If I’m showing concern, isn’t it also for—”

“For whom?” Yuan Ce’s lips curved into a faint smile, coaxing her to continue.

“No one. Forget it. I’m not that concerned anyway.” Jiang Zhiyi huffed, shaking her head dismissively.

Yuan Ce had never opened up like this to anyone—it was just hard to know where to begin. After some thought, he countered her question with one of his own: “If you were in my position—if you endured hardship and brutal training on the frontier while your biological sister lived a life of luxury in the capital, would you feel close to her?”

Jiang Zhiyi blinked, considering the question honestly.

“Probably… not.” Not only wouldn’t she feel close, she admitted to herself that she might even harbor jealousy and resentment toward her.

“So—”

Yuan Ce didn’t finish, but Jiang Zhiyi understood.

“Why did you stop resenting him later? Was it because you realized he wasn’t happy in Chang’an either?”

Reflecting on these distant memories, Yuan Ce couldn’t pinpoint an exact answer. Perhaps it was, as Jiang Zhiyi suggested, realizing that his brother was just as unfree as he was. Or maybe it was the instant connection twin brothers often feel upon meeting for the first time. Or perhaps—

“Maybe it’s because—” Yuan Ce paused, finding the most important reason. Lowering his gaze, he said, “He was the first person who couldn’t bear to see me bleed or get hurt, the first to tell me to take care of myself.”

Jiang Zhiyi had only asked out of curiosity and hadn’t expected such a poignant response.

“The first…?” Jiang Zhiyi repeated softly, astonished. Didn’t his father, who subjected him to such harsh training from childhood, ever show him even a shred of compassion?

Yuan Ce suddenly raised his head and smiled. “You’re the second.”

Jiang Zhiyi froze, remembering the two times he had been injured in Chang’an—and how she had cried and fretted over him...

But that wasn’t her. That was Yi Yi, the girl she had been pretending to be after her head injury—it was all fake—

She wanted to explain, to remind him. But as she gazed into his eyes, now tinged with warmth, and remembered the lonely grave where she could no longer ask if he was in pain or urge him to take care of himself, her words caught in her throat.

She recalled the day he had asked her—Didn’t you once say I was the purest person in the world?

Her instinctive denial then now felt impossible to voice again.