As soon as this thought entered his mind, Chi Qingbo froze. Then he reached out with trembling hands to touch A’li Teng’s back.

Not far away, Tie Ci stared coldly at Murong Yi.

Just moments before, Murong Yi had grabbed You Weixing and thrown him toward Chi Qingbo, making him use time reversal on Chi Qingbo.

After glaring at him for a while, she turned back to look at those two people.

She had seen that scene just now, and also saw the arrow in A’li Teng’s heart.

Chi Qingbo, returned to the moment before the attack, had lost his advantage and forgotten to use human shields again.

But it was A’li Teng, usually somewhat slow, who miraculously reacted before him and made herself his shield this time.

Perhaps it was because she thought of and worried about that person day and night, because her eyes held only him day and night, that she remembered everything he had done and could make the most correct response at the first moment.

Chi Qingbo’s hand was about to touch the arrow shaft behind A’li Teng.

But he suddenly stopped.

Then he leaped from his horse and threw A’li Teng toward Tie Ci with his other hand.

Tie Ci had no choice but to catch her.

The rain of arrows struck again.

Chi Qingbo roared and once again charged into his group of still-unaware guards.

Even if forced to do it over, he would do it again—he could still escape once more!

In the whistling rain of arrows, he wove through using his guards’ forms for cover again. This time without A’li Teng in his hands, his movements were more agile.

This time, without using guards as human shields, the guards who had reacted were more loyally protecting him.

Tie Ci caught A’li Teng.

Murong Yi swept past.

A’li Teng suddenly pulled out the arrow from her own back and struck toward Tie Ci’s throat!

Murong Yi, who had been prepared to chase Chi Qingbo, immediately changed direction and swept toward Tie Ci.

A’li Teng’s strike naturally couldn’t succeed. Tie Ci raised her hand to grab her wrist. A’li Teng still wanted to struggle, but when she looked up and saw the pity in Tie Ci’s eyes, she suddenly froze there.

Clamor surrounded them on all sides, yet all her senses were focused on feeling the person behind her—her husband. She knew he was flying away without looking back.

Yet she remembered more clearly that earlier, when she was about to fall from her horse, he had pulled her back. In such a critical moment, he hadn’t forgotten her.

That was enough.

How could everything in life always go as one wished? Having that one moment of joy was already worth savoring repeatedly, and she was fortunate to have had that entire journey of ordinary married love and mutual support.

She gripped Tie Ci’s arm tightly, her whole body continuously sliding down. Tie Ci had to exert force to support her.

Wan Ji had already led people to chase Chi Qingbo. Tie Ci didn’t move; she supported A’li Teng and said softly, “Why suffer so?”

A’li Teng smiled and shook her head, gripping Tie Ci’s arm as she whispered, “…I’m very grateful to you.”

Tie Ci looked at her in surprise.

A faint smile appeared at the corners of A’li Teng’s lips. “…Really, thank you for finally giving me the chance to live an ordinary married life.”

To be able to walk hand in hand with her husband.

To have him care for her comfort and warmth.

To have him accompany her browsing markets and shops like many ordinary couples in the world—she would stop for small trinkets that caught her eye, and he would squat down to bargain for her. She would pull him away when she thought something was too expensive, and he would secretly return to spend all the remaining copper coins in his pocket to buy it.

To accompany her at those smoky food stalls in the market, eating food that wasn’t refined in taste. She had heard people from Guangzhou mention the word “wok hei” when she was in the mansion before, and she hadn’t understood then, but now she did—it was the breath of human life, steaming hot, flames licking the wok. From pot to mouth immediately, seeing each other’s smiling faces close at hand through the steam.

To remind her when walking through muddy streets, protecting her by the roadside, and after they were tired from walking, to walk ahead of her and then squat down.

The first time he squatted down, she stared at his not-so-broad back, tears welling up in that instant, barely held back.

That moment took her back to many years before.

On their wedding night, she had barely finished lifting her veil and offering a smile when he was hurriedly called away for business.

After marriage, when serving tea to parents-in-law, his mother had died early and his father was nowhere to be seen. She thought her husband was just a fallen young master—otherwise why would he marry her, a hunter’s daughter from the wilderness?

She wasn’t actually the daughter of the Qianzhou chieftain, just someone who shared the same name and similar age as that young lady. She first met her husband in the deep mountains of Qianzhou while she was playing in the water, and he rode past on horseback, suddenly stopping his hurried horse hooves.

That day the grass by the stream was soft and green, mountain waterfalls splashed snow-white curtains on smooth black stones. His fine horse stepped through fragrant mountain flowers, gathering wildflower scents all along the way, attracting butterflies to chase his horse hooves throughout the mountains.

Through the snow-white curtain, the young man’s eyes looking over were clear and transparent as colored glass.

Love at first sight.

At the time she thought, what a beautiful youth.

But one glance was enough to satisfy her. That kind of person—one glance was enough to see he wasn’t from her world.

The next instant, arrows flew like a black dragon pouncing toward his horse. Butterflies were torn to pieces, scattered between heaven and earth along with flower petals and blood drops.

His horse neighed and fell, most of his guards died in an instant. The crimson blood soaked the green grass, and light red foam appeared at the edge of the water pool.

Ahead came continuous grinding sounds as a large net rose, silver light flashing on it—countless barbs that could tear a person to shreds.

Pursuers behind, no escape ahead.

In that moment she broke through the water like a mermaid born of water.

Water splashed, turning into misty drizzle that enveloped the young man and woman. When the rain droplets settled, the pursuers only saw a graceful fish-like form flash and disappear under the waterfall’s torrent.

Actually, she hadn’t thought of anything in that moment.

Simply, she didn’t want those glass-like eyes to lose their light forever.

All beautiful things in this world were gifts from heaven. Even if she couldn’t keep them all, she always wanted to try.

When she placed him on the large stone afterward, she hadn’t thought of anything either. It was just a small act of rescue, never expecting it would lead to a pledge of marriage.

She was even thinking—what virtue or ability did she possess? Someone like him wouldn’t lack people to save him or women to admire him. Why bind his whole life to hers just because of this one rescue?

Later she gradually understood somewhat.

He was born to wealth but wasn’t content with just enjoying that wealth. He wanted more, and before that was willing to hide behind others, unseen by the world.

Hiding himself alone was easy; hiding more was difficult. If he wanted to marry, he couldn’t marry into high-ranking families—that would bring him endless troubles.

She was born orphaned with no one to rely on, having no entanglements with anyone in this world.

But originally, he could have chosen not to marry at all…

Perhaps she never wanted to think so much. Marrying him fulfilled her lifelong wish—who would want to examine beautiful dreams too closely, insisting on waking themselves from intoxication?

After marrying him, there was nothing bad about it, except he was always busy, coming and going hurriedly. When he came, it was mostly at night. She used to sleep early, but after marrying him, she became accustomed to sleeping late, leaning by the window at night doing needlework. The banana plant’s shadow outside crossed back and forth on the window paper, and she watched that sliver of light between the crosshatches change from dusky yellow to black, then from black to white.

If that light swayed, casting many people’s shadows onto her desk, she would know—he had come.

Even when he came, he would only sleep briefly for half the night. By morning, the bedding beside her was already cold.

When he came hurriedly in the middle of the night, he always carried the scent of armor and iron weapons, sometimes also the smell of blood and snow.

The climate in Yannan’s deep mountains was changeable, even occasionally snowing.

Later she became accustomed to waking early, used to getting up in the morning to silently see him off, used to always following a foot behind him, used to leaning against the doorframe watching his retreating figure.

Sometimes she would even wonder—could it be that she was just a concubine, that he had another proper wife? That’s why she could only always wait for him, always watch his back from behind, never able to walk with him in broad daylight, let him support her arm and introduce her to others as “my wife.”

Until that day.

He said, “A’li Teng, we’re going on a long journey.”

She was very happy.

Before leaving, she memorized a thick book, took on another identity, accepted his personal instruction, learned how to play another role—a role that could gain people’s trust, along with all the lies related to that role.

She didn’t care about those things.

She only cared that the role to be introduced to others was his legitimate wife.

By then she was already pregnant and had been anxiously worried about this child. Her pregnancy hadn’t made him come home more often, and she had firmly believed she was indeed just a concubine. What would happen when the child was born? Live a lifetime bearing the disgraceful identity of a concubine’s child?

Now she wasn’t worried anymore.

Because he had not only taken her out but brought her before the current Crown Princess.

The heir apparent, nobles, and naval officers would all witness that she was his wife.

For this, she was willing to do anything.

But she still hadn’t expected it would end that way.

The child was lost, and he had failed too.

Perhaps that was retribution.

When the insect swarm came, he took her and escaped in the chaos. As she walked, she kept looking back, seeing the dense black fog covering the mountains sweep toward those people she had lived with day and night, sweep toward that good woman. Her tears fell, but her steps never stopped.

She had no regrets.

In the moment when she felt her conscience heavily struck.

In the moment when she held her breath underwater for a day, broke through the water to save her husband, and thus lost her child.

In this moment when time flowed backward, returning to the eve of crisis, as she threw herself to save her husband.

She had never regretted it.

In this world, many people have thousands and thousands of choices, but her choice had always been only that one.

The light in A’li Teng’s eyes gradually dimmed.

Her grip on Tie Ci’s hand also gradually loosened.

She suddenly whispered softly, “Butterflies…”

Tie Ci turned her head but saw no butterflies, only rubble and dust everywhere, and that figure walking farther and farther away.

“Butterflies…”

Mountains full of green, stone walls like ink, waterfalls like white silk. Among that green mountain and white water, countless colorful butterflies danced after horse hooves.

A’li Teng felt as if she were at the bottom of a pool, looking at the world through clear water, separated from heaven and earth by a transparent barrier. Butterflies flew low over the water surface, stirring up round water drops, unable to break through that softest yet hardest barrier in the world.

The butterflies became increasingly blurred, and the horse hooves grew more distant. That youth’s horse hooves lightly crossed over the water surface, carrying flowers and grass, disappearing into the depths of green mountains.

She reached out from underwater but encountered what seemed like a barrier, never able to extend her fingertips.

Perhaps this was reality.

Perhaps everything before was just a dream—a wonderful fantasy she had woven for herself while sleeping at the bottom of the pool after encountering the youth she liked.

In reality, she indeed had never had any connection with him. He was on the shore, she was underwater. He rode away on horseback with butterflies dancing under his horse hooves, while she swam below the water, continuing to be her lighthearted and simple mountain girl.

This was fate’s true course.

Hard to know, hard to meet—better not to meet at all.

True or false, left to wind and rain.

A’li Teng’s hand slowly lifted, raised halfway, then fell.

She lay in Tie Ci’s embrace. Tie Ci gazed at her black hair, where there were no ornaments, only a single hairpin.

It was the hairpin she had taken a fancy to at Guiqizhai, said to be colored glass but actually plastic.

That day A’li Teng had loved it very much, and Dan Shuang had even thought of paying for it herself.

In the end, it was Chi Qingbo who “spent everything he had” to buy this “expensive” gift for A’li Teng.

She wore it until death.

Tie Ci’s fingers touched that hairpin and paused slightly, a trace of disgust flashing in her eyes.

She wanted to throw away this hairpin.

Because it wasn’t worthy.

At the moment of buying it, Chi Qingbo was still pretending to be poor.

The thing that supposedly carried deep affection came from lies and deception.

Yet in the end she didn’t move.

Because that smile at the corners of A’li Teng’s lips remained undimmed even in death.

Just as she clung to that illusory dream unwilling to wake, why should she be cruel enough to shatter it for her?

May she meet a good person in her next life.

…