Amid the wind and snow, Li Buyan ran five full laps in earnest, a fine sheen of warmth breaking out on her back.

She was exhausted—but inexplicably exhilarated.

Ever since that bowl of egg-fried rice had gone cold in her hands, she hadn’t felt this kind of release in a long time.

Footsteps sounded.

Li Buyan turned around. “Why did you run out here?”

Why did I run out?

How would *I* know?!

Young Master Pei thought bitterly that he wished he could stomp on his own feet—how had they become so disobedient?

“Um… it’s freezing outside. Hurry back in and warm yourself by the fire. Don’t catch a chill.”

Afraid she might misunderstand, Young Master Pei quickly added, “Don’t get the wrong idea—I’m soft-hearted with everyone.”

Li Buyan looked at him quietly.

Seeing that she didn’t move, Young Master Pei started muttering again, almost superstitiously: “This snow is really coming down hard. No telling whether it’ll be smooth going down the mountain tomorrow. There are only seven days left… who knows if we can make it…”

“Young Master Pei?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think there’s such a thing in this world as flowers in bloom and the full moon—perfect happiness?”

Pei Xiao froze.

Li Buyan turned away.

There isn’t.

Wu Guanyue and Hu Sanmei brushed past each other in life;

Wu Shunian and Zhou Ye addressed each other as master and servant for a lifetime;

Lu Shi and Tang Zhiwei—one bound to the mortal world, one to the empty gate—gazed at each other from afar;

Geng Songsheng and Zhu Weixi were clearly a matched pair, yet their ending was to be torn apart alive.

And then there was…

That man in the Duanmu Palace, ethereal as an exiled immortal. If he truly smiled, the light in his eyes could ensnare any heart;

but if the smile faded, his eyes would sink into a chilling coldness that terrified all who met it.

Why could nothing ever come to fulfillment?

“There is,” Pei Xiao said. “My father and mother are very fulfilled.”

“How is that fulfilled?”

“They gave birth to me!”

“And they also had your concubine-born younger brother.”

Li Buyan let out a cold laugh.

“Come to think of it—one legitimate son, one concubine-born son; one wife, one concubine. That really is quite ‘fulfilled.’ Oh, right—your younger brother is quite skilled at treating illnesses, isn’t he?”

Young Master Pei was left so speechless he could barely catch his breath.

What was this?

This was a classic case of good intentions going unrewarded!

Li Buyan walked over to Pei Xiao, her eyes dark and unfathomable.

“Young Master Pei.”

“Y-yeah?”

“If there’s no such thing as flowers in bloom and the full moon, then why do we come into this world at all? Just to make do? If that’s the case, I’d rather have none of it.”

Pei Xiao was stunned.

The girl before him wore an icy expression. The wind and snow had reddened her eyes, and within them shimmered a faint, shallow glimmer of moisture.

Pei Xiao felt that not only were his legs beyond his control—his hands were about to betray him too.

This was bad.

Why did he so desperately want to reach out and touch this young lady’s face?

…

An hour passed in the blink of an eye, and everyone gathered once more around the brazier in the main hall.

Lü Dan was shaken awake by Young Master Pei tugging on his ear.

For someone so young to snore loudly enough to lift the roof—he was truly a marvel.

“In another half hour it’ll be daylight. As soon as it’s light, we head down the mountain.”

Yan Sanhe said, “Lü Dan, how we go down the mountain is up to you—make the call.”

Lü Dan yawned and was just about to speak when the door was pushed open.

“I’ll take you down the mountain. No need to wait for dawn. We leave in fifteen minutes.”

With that, Geng Songsheng turned around. His black cloak was whipped up by the wind and snow, his back looking inexplicably upright and free.

Yan Sanhe withdrew her gaze. “Everyone, make your preparations.”

“Wait!”

Zhu Yuanzhao hesitated, then said, “Miss Yan, could my father’s inner demon be Geng Songsheng? Should we invite him along as well—”

“It’s not him,” Yan Sanhe said.

“But what if—”

“There is no ‘what if.’”

“Why are you so certain?”

“Because…”

Yan Sanhe pointed toward the room to the east.

“There’s an extraordinary master sleeping in there.”

Far more formidable than the Zhu family.

If Geng Songsheng were truly the inner demon, would he still say, *‘I’ll send you down the mountain’*?

The word *send* alone proved that he wasn’t.

“If anyone is to be invited, it should be *him*.”

Yan Sanhe walked to the door and cupped her fists in salute.

“The Buddha’s law has bounds; afflictions have none. I wish the Master a heart without worries, a body without illness—may your brows and eyes hold a thousand autumns, and yet contain no trace of me.”

“…No one answered.”

She didn’t mind. “Set off!”

…

The snow was still falling—thick and heavy as ever.

In the wind and snow, Geng Songsheng’s voice rang out like a bell:

“Huang Qi, support Lord Pei; Ding Yi, support Second Master Zhu; Miss Li, support Miss Yan; Lü Dan comes with me.”

Huh?

Where was Zhu Weixi?

Lord Pei pointed. “What about her?”

Geng Songsheng ignored him and walked to the stone house at the back. When he returned, he had a large contraption slung over his shoulder.

He dropped it on the ground and glanced lightly at Zhu Weixi.

“You sit in this. Hold onto the hemp rope—tight. Lü Dan and I will pull.”

Everyone stared, dumbfounded.

It was a nest-like structure bound together from wood. A person could curl up inside it, with ropes at the front and back pulling it along. The person inside wouldn’t need to exert any effort at all.

So this was the “work” he’d gone to do?

Zhu Weixi pulled her scarf down, revealing her small lips. They trembled as she tried to force them into a smile.

At last, she managed it.

“One wooden hairpin in exchange for this—I suppose I came out ahead in the end.”

“Only this once. You won’t get such a bargain again.”

Enough.

It was enough.

Zhu Weixi bent down and sat inside, gripping the rope in front with all her strength—so hard that tears were wrung from her eyes.

Geng Songsheng shouted toward the eastern room—

“Master! I’ll see them off and be right back!”

…

Going down the mountain was, after all, easier than climbing it.

With Geng Songsheng along, the journey went incomparably smoothly.

When they were still several dozen zhang from the foot of the mountain, Geng Songsheng suddenly stopped and tossed aside the rope in his hand.

“Benefactors, this is as far as I go.”

With that, he turned around and strode back up the mountain.

Abrupt and unanticipated.

Just like when he had descended from the heavens to appear before them—his departure came without the slightest warning.

Zhu Weixi stumbled as she climbed out of the wooden frame. She removed her hat and scarf, her gaze locked onto him.

He never looked back.

Not even a single word of farewell.

Step by step, he climbed upward.

Slowly, he became a black speck;

slowly, that speck vanished from everyone’s sight.

Meeting happens because a debt must be repaid; parting happens because the debt is settled.

Completely even.

Zhu Weixi felt as though a piece of flesh had been torn from her heart. The pain buckled her legs, and she collapsed to her knees, wailing.

She cried until her heart seemed to split open, until she could barely catch her breath, tears and snot streaming everywhere—without the slightest trace of the elegance or composure of a matron of the house.

Suddenly, she recalled many years ago, at the hot-spring estate.

After the two of them had finished eating roasted sweet potatoes, they were heading back when, halfway there, waves of sourness welled up in her stomach.

She leaned against a tree and retched a couple of times.

He stood nearby, watching the show, even mocking her now and then.

Afterward, she wiped her mouth and prepared to keep walking.

He squatted down in front of her. “Get on.”

She was stunned.

He had clearly said before that he wouldn’t even help her up.

“I’ll count to three. One, two—”

She hurriedly jumped onto his back.

His back was broad, yet carried the slenderness unique to youth—like a spring willow branch, supple and resilient.

Now, his back was not only broad, but exceptionally solid.

On that snowy night, it was he who carried her up to Dongtai Peak.

Though she was drifting in and out of consciousness, she knew it in her heart.

She knew it all.

When Zhu Weixi had finally cried her fill, she pushed away the hand reaching out to help her and slowly struggled up from the snow.

She took one last look toward the mountain, then wiped her tears and walked down alone.

Geng Songsheng.

Back then, I truly did fall for you, and I sincerely wanted to marry you—there was no pretense in it at all.