Twilight enveloped the surroundings as the wind blowing from the mountainside carried the first chill of early winter. The Xie clan, a prestigious family for centuries, had their ancestral cemetery occupying half the hillside in the city outskirts. Frost-white moonlight spilled onto the bluestone path, creating an illusion of a light snowfall.
Amidst the eerie atmosphere of the surrounding tombs at night, a figure approached, treading in the moonlight. The lantern in their hand swayed in the cold wind, casting a hazy yellow glow. The person stopped before the joint grave of Xie Lin and his wife. The dark gold embroidery on their brocade boots flickered in the dim lantern light, difficult to discern clearly.
An elderly servant carrying a food box crouched down beside them. He opened the box and carefully arranged the offerings on the stone table before the tomb. “Young Miss, the Marquis has come to see you. He’s brought your favorite dessert, longevity alfalfa cake.”
After setting out three offerings, the old servant took out flint and yellow and white joss paper. He lit them and slowly burned them in the charcoal brazier before the tomb, muttering:
“Chef Nie from the main kitchen, who makes the longevity alfalfa cake, has become increasingly shortsighted these past two years. Since you married, the Marquis has kept him on for twenty-one years for his skill with this dessert. In a couple more years, he’ll likely be unable to continue and will have to retire home.”
The flame from the burning joss paper overpowered the lantern’s glow, revealing the old servant’s weathered and melancholic eyes. The calligraphy engraved on the tombstone became visible, with the words “Tomb of Wei Zhi, Wife of the Great General of National Protection” particularly striking.
Wei Yan, with a silver fox fur cape draped over his shoulders, silently gazed at his sister’s grave in the flickering firelight. After a long while, he said to the old servant, “Wei Quan, you may go now.”
The old servant rose to leave: “Then, as in previous years, this old servant will wait for the Marquis at the foot of the mountain.”
Wei Yan nodded slightly, and the old servant left the lantern by the tomb before bowing and retreating.
The wind grew stronger, blowing Wei Yan’s cape hem and scattering the burning joss paper’s embers and ashes from the brazier. Wei Yan stooped to pick up a stack of unburned joss paper by the brazier, tearing off small pieces to burn completely.
He remained silent, unable to utter a word of his innermost feelings even before this lonely grave.
When Xie Zheng arrived, stepping through the night as thin as water, this was the scene he encountered.
Standing ten paces away, he twisted his lips in a sarcastic smile and spoke with icy sharpness: “You forced her to her death, yet you come to see her every year on this day. Who are you putting on this show for? Or are you afraid she’s too peaceful in her grave, so you come to disturb her annually?”
When he heard the footsteps, Wei Yan already knew who had arrived. He stood sideways to Xie Zheng, not even lifting his eyelids, ignoring him completely as he finished burning the joss paper in his hand. Only then did he brush the ashes from his clothes and stand up.
As he was about to brush past Xie Zheng on his way back, he paused and left a parting remark: “I thought you’d been skulking about for months, lacking even the courage to come here and pay respects today.”
Xie Zheng raised an eyebrow, his gaze cold as an ice blade. His face, illuminated by moonlight, seemed covered in frost. He sneered, “Did Grand Secretary Wei visit the Xie clan cemetery late at night just to see if this Marquis would come to burn incense? This Marquis certainly isn’t afraid to come here. The one who needs to borrow courage to return is you, isn’t it, Grand Secretary? After all, a mountain of blood debts must eventually be repaid, mustn’t they?”
Wei Yan cast a sidelong glance at Xie Zheng, his expression unreadable, and wordlessly moved to leave.
He had taken only two steps when Xie Zheng, his expression cold and gloomy as he stared at his parents’ stark tombstone nearby, the night wind ruffling his bangs, his eyes like cold stars roiling with killing intent, unexpectedly drew his sword and slashed at Wei Yan from behind. The sword wind was overwhelming, as swift as lightning.
“Clang!”
A teeth-jarring metallic clash rang out in the night.
Short weapons collided, ringing sharply, striking sparks.
The guards hidden around the cemetery all revealed themselves, eyeing Xie Zheng warily, firmly protecting Wei Yan behind them.
Xie Zheng’s lips curled into a cold, mocking arc as he stared icily at Wei Yan standing behind more than ten guards. He raised his sword: “Between you and me, there must eventually be a reckoning. Why not today?”
As he spoke, his eyes flashed fiercely, and he suddenly closed in on one guard. His sword struck dozens of times in an instant, sparks flying. The immense force made the guard’s hand bleed, soaking the knife handle, and forcing him to retreat repeatedly.
Xie Zheng’s handsome face twisted like a fierce ghost at this moment, his body seeming to emanate a tangible aura of bloodthirst. His sword moved so fast in his hand that only afterimages remained as he furiously questioned Wei Yan: “My father supported Crown Prince Chengde, obstructing your path, so you schemed to kill him. My mother discovered your plot, so you had to kill her too?”
With the final sword strike, the guard’s long knife shattered with a “ding,” breaking into two pieces.
He stared wide-eyed in terror but was still struck across the waist by the undiminished force of that final blow. He collapsed, twitching, unable to rise, as a crimson pool slowly spread beneath him.
A gust of wind blew, and the stench of blood became nauseating.
The remaining guards eyed Xie Zheng with increasing wariness.
Those accompanying Wei Yan this time were all top-tier guards. These guards, trained by the Wei household, could rival military generals on the battlefield, yet they couldn’t last half a quarter hour against Xie Zheng.
Xie Zheng stood a short distance away, holding his blood-dripping sword. His face was spattered with fine droplets of blood, leaving only a malevolent, murderous air on that excessively handsome countenance.
He asked Wei Yan: “How have you had the face to come here these past seventeen years?”
The wind scattered the burned paper ashes, his tall figure in dark clothes seeming to merge with the thick night.
Wei Yan listened to his pointed accusations without a word. Ash from the joss paper settled on his shoulders, and at that moment, the already graying hair at his temples seemed to whiten even more.
A guard vigilantly watching Xie Zheng, who was blocked by other guards, said to Wei Yan: “Grand Secretary, it’s dangerous here. Shall this lowly one escort you away first?”
Wei Yan, however, raised his hand, signaling the guard to stand down.
The guard’s face showed a hint of bewilderment, but he dared not disobey Wei Yan’s wishes and withdrew his sword, retreating to Wei Yan’s side.
Wei Yan gazed at Xie Zheng from two zhang away, his eyes inscrutable: “Your hatred for me is justified. If you don’t think of killing me, one day I will take your head. But you shouldn’t have been so arrogant as to confront me here.”
He brushed the paper ash from his cape: “With your strength alone, you can’t eliminate all my top-tier guards. Your mother is watching, and I won’t trouble you here, disturbing her peace.”
Wei Yan turned and walked towards the bluestone path where the night was deeper.
Xie Zheng stood holding his sword, suddenly laughing coldly: “When she was alive, you couldn’t tolerate her. Now that she’s dead, you put on this act. Do you think she can know anything in the underworld?”
Wei Yan’s figure paused briefly, then continued forward without a word.
The guards surrounding Xie Zheng, however, dared not relax their vigilance. Their palms were sweaty as they gripped their sword hilts, fearing Xie Zheng might suddenly attack again.
Only after confirming Wei Yan had gone far did they point their swords at Xie Zheng, retreating a certain distance before turning and swiftly departing.
The entire cemetery fell silent once more. Being early winter, even the insects were quiet.
A lantern that had been knocked over during the fight lay on the ground. Its paper shade and bamboo frame had burned away, leaving only the spilled lamp oil slowly burning on the bluestone path. The faint blue flame illuminated Xie Zheng’s blood-spattered face as if coated in a layer of frost.
He turned his head to look at his parents’ grave nearby, standing motionless like a statue.
Scenes from the past flooded his mind, memories of the sixteen years spent in the Wei household had never been so clear.
Since he was five years old, every Qingming Festival or death anniversary, Wei Yan would bring him to the Xie clan cemetery, leaving the carriage driver and guards waiting at the foot of the mountain.
Wei Yan said his mother liked peace in life, and bringing too many people here would disturb her tranquility.
Fearful of Wei Yan’s severity and resenting his mother for heartlessly abandoning him, each time he knelt before the grave, he would only burn joss paper and kowtow, saying nothing else.
Wei Yan was the same, always silent, coming here only to stand quietly before the grave for a long time before leaving.
The spilled lamp oil burned out, and the blue-tinged flame flickered and died with a “puff.”
In the world, save for the cold moonlight, not a trace of other light remained.
Xie Zheng finally moved towards his parents’ grave. Looking at the words “Wei Zhi” engraved on the cold stone tablet, he raised his hand to touch them. His lowered eyelashes were bathed in moonlight, casting a faint shadow beneath his eyes.
Suppression, gloom, suffocation, and hatred enveloped him like a tidal wave, dragging him into an endless abyss.
Xie Zheng’s other hand at his side unconsciously clenched, his jaw tightened, a vein bulging at his temple, and a hint of bloodshot visible in his eyes.
Rapid footsteps approached from the distance, tap, tap, tap…
As if treading on someone’s heartstrings.
Xie Zheng lifted his eyes to look and saw a small warm light quickly approaching him in the night.
He saw the hem of a young woman’s skirt illuminated by the lantern’s yellow glow, her hair flying in the night wind as she ran, and her face flushed from the hurried journey, eyes full of concern.
It was a strange feeling; the dark, gloomy emotions in his heart began to gradually recede.
Finally, one day, though he was covered in wounds, he was illuminated by the sun running towards him.
Fan Changyu had smelled blood on the wind at the foot of the mountain and, worried Xie Zheng might have fallen into an ambush, ran up the mountain while Xie Zhong secretly kept an eye on Wei Yan’s carriage left at the bottom.
On her way up, she had already seen large bloodstains on the ground. Seeing blood spattered on Xie Zheng’s face, she hurriedly used her lantern to check if he was injured anywhere else, her voice unconsciously tightening: “How are you? Did Wei Yan’s men ambush you here? Are you hurt?”
She fired off a series of questions, still panting from her rush.
As she anxiously checked Xie Zheng for injuries, the man before her only lowered his gaze to stare at her unblinkingly.
Fan Changyu found no wounds on Xie Zheng’s front, but the smell of blood on him was so strong that she worried he might be injured on his back. She quickly said, “Turn around and let me see!”
Xie Zheng didn’t move.
Fan Changyu had already learned from Xie Zhong about his return to the Xie clan ancestral hall to receive 108 lashes. Thinking of how he later came to find her in Lu City, she naturally knew why he had endured those 108 lashes.
All the way here, she hadn’t been able to suppress the sting in her eyes.
Seeing Xie Zheng uncooperative, she worried he might truly be injured on his back. Anxious, she reached out to pull his arm, wanting him to turn so she could check.
Unexpectedly, the man before her suddenly raised his arm to press her neck, forcefully pulling her into his embrace.
The strength that nearly broke her waist made it difficult for Fan Changyu to breathe.
The lantern in her hand fell to the ground in her stumble, instantly consumed by flames.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
Fan Changyu’s cheek was forced against his hard chest as she heard his low, hoarse voice from above.
Though his words were rejecting, Fan Changyu had the feeling she could never break free from his restraint.