Su Ningshuang…

He had specifically memorized the family registers of all court officials’ dependents, so he quickly recalled the name Su Ningshuang.

Su Ningshuang’s father was the current Left Remonstrance Official, in charge of petitions and appeals throughout the capital, a righteous man who didn’t know how to be flexible.

He vaguely remembered colleagues mentioning that Father Su loved his daughter like his life, extremely doting on his daughter at home.

Looking at her now, it was indeed true.

Su Ningshuang’s maids and guards were all outside the tea house. For a young lady from a wealthy family to be allowed to bring art supplies to paint in the mountains, and to converse and sit with strange men without any avoidance—looking at her guards and maids, they were clearly used to this.

Such behavior wouldn’t be much in ordinary families, but for a well-bred lady from a noble household, it was quite unconventional.

Yan Xu didn’t want to entangle too much with this person. Holding a position in the Privy Council, getting too close to other court officials’ family members wasn’t good for him. After finishing his tea, ignoring the woman’s questions, he left directly.

Military affairs were always busy, and the more trusted one became, the heavier the burden.

When tired, he only wanted to sit alone in the mountains.

When he went to Danfeng Terrace again, remembering the clear bitter fragrant tea in the tea house, he went there once more. As soon as he entered, he saw a familiar figure.

The woman sat by the window, splashing ink and wielding her brush at the table. Hearing movement, she looked up, and seeing him enter, her eyes lit up: “Yan Xu!”

He stopped: “How do you know my name?”

“Your sword is a palace sword. After I went home, I asked my father. When he heard you had a long scar at your eye corner, he knew who you were.” She smiled with curved eyes, “So you’re from the Privy Council.”

She spoke openly and honestly, not afraid at all that he might be angry about this.

“Sit together!” She patted the table and handed him a piece of crab shell pastry: “Want to try?”

Yan Xu coldly declined.

Su Ningshuang was a strange person.

Completely different from her cold-as-frost name, Su Ningshuang had a lively and active temperament, naturally familiar with people. Yan Xu was too lazy to pay attention to her, but she didn’t mind his fierce and terrifying appearance at all, chatting with him familiarly.

The maple leaves at Danfeng Terrace would stay red for two or three months. He had no other hobbies in daily life, only liking to find a quiet place here, but every time he came, he would encounter her.

“We’ve known each other for so long, we should be considered friends now, right?” she said.

“I don’t have friends.”

“How can a person have no friends?” Su Ningshuang smiled: “Having no one to share joys and sorrows with—what a boring thing that would be. I can be your friend and share this evening glow at Danfeng Terrace with you.”

Yan Xu turned and walked away.

He didn’t need friends.

But this young lady from a wealthy family apparently truly considered herself his friend.

She liked painting, and every time she came, she would carry paper and brushes in her art box. Yan Xu didn’t understand calligraphy and painting, but looking at what she drew, it was indeed delicate and magnificent.

“If I weren’t born into a noble family, I would definitely become a painter in this life, traveling all the world’s landscapes and painting all the world’s beautiful scenery.”

Yan Xu scoffed.

Only such a young lady who didn’t know the world’s hardships would have such absurdly naive thoughts.

“Great painters say that painting people is most difficult, followed by landscapes, then dogs and horses, then pavilions and specific objects, which are relatively easy,” Su Ningshuang laughed: “Unfortunately, my skills are mediocre now. When I’ve practiced enough, I’ll paint a portrait for you.”

He interrupted: “Why do you always want to paint me?”

Yan Xu didn’t understand why she was always so obsessed when he was just an ordinary, unremarkable person.

Su Ningshuang thought for a moment and said: “The first time I saw you, you were sitting in the forest, looking up at the sunset.”

“Your back looked very lonely. Paintings don’t lie—they can see into your heart.”

Su Ningshuang sighed.

“Actually, I’m quite lonely too. I like painting, but those young ladies in the capital can’t get along with me. But you’re excellent scenery, and it would be a pity not to paint good scenery.”

“You’re lonely, I’m lonely too. We’re both lonely ‘kindred spirits,’ so naturally we’re friends.”

She looked up, the bright maple leaves reflected in her clear eyes. Though she was smiling, her tone was very desolate.

For the first time, Yan Xu didn’t mock her.

Later he often came to Danfeng Terrace and became familiar with the tea house owner. Even when the maple leaves at Danfeng Terrace fell and the capital began to snow, whenever he felt lonely and desolate, he would always come here.

Out of ten times, he would encounter Su Ningshuang three to five times.

She still looked carefree, carrying her art box and wandering all over the mountain, always ordering crab shell pastries at the tea house, and all her attempts to persuade him to try them failed.

She still wanted to secretly paint him, but he always discovered it, and it would come to nothing, leaving her disappointed.

The days passed unhurriedly like this, the maple leaves at Danfeng Terrace turning red then green, green then red.

Su Ningshuang also reached the age for engagement.

The Su family arranged for her to marry the young master of Duke Zhaoning’s manor, Pei Di.

After learning this news, Yan Xu was stunned for a long time.

By then his career path had gone even more smoothly, his position higher than before, though among his colleagues he was still not well-liked. He saw the listless Su Ningshuang in the tea house, hesitated for a long time, then for the first time took the initiative to ask her: “You don’t want to marry?”

“Of course not,” Su Ningshuang pouted, “I don’t even know him.”

After returning home, Yan Xu thought for a long time, then sent someone to hire a matchmaker to propose marriage to the Su family.

His thinking was simple—if Su Ningshuang didn’t like the marriage arrangement with the Pei family, he could use his own marriage proposal to block it. If she was willing, painting maple leaves at Danfeng Terrace for a lifetime would also be good.

The matchmaker returned quickly, saying the Su family had refused the proposal.

When he saw Su Ningshuang again, she sat by the tea house window. Different from her dejection a few days ago, she had completely changed from her previous despondency, her eyes sparkling with radiance.

“I know you were being loyal and went to my house to propose. Thank you, but it’s not necessary.”

“I secretly went to see that young master from the Pei family,” Su Ningshuang cupped her cheeks with both hands, eager to share with him: “He’s handsome and refined, elegant and graceful. Most importantly, when I tested him with paintings, he’s someone who understands art and has considerable knowledge of calligraphy and painting!”

“I think this marriage arrangement is good! I like him!”

Yan Xu had never seen her like this, her heart and eyes full of a young girl’s shy delight.

Many words he wanted to say stopped at his lips. He said calmly: “Congratulations.”

“With the marriage settled, I’ll be busy embroidering my wedding dress. I probably won’t come as often in the future. This painting is for you!”

She handed Yan Xu a painting.

It was a painting of evening clouds over the mountains at Danfeng Terrace, with bright and brilliant colors that left a deep impression.

“After I’m married, when the maple leaves turn red every year, I’ll still come here to paint. By then my painting skills should improve dramatically—you can’t refuse to let me paint your portrait anymore!” She smiled and stood up, drifting away like a maple leaf.

Yan Xu was silent.

He had become alone again.

Previously he thought being alone wasn’t bad—it saved trouble. But probably having gotten used to someone chattering beside him, when he came to Danfeng Terrace again, he actually felt the mountain’s quietness was somewhat cold and lonely.

Su Ningshuang soon got married.

This was probably a marriage that looked well-matched—talented man and beautiful woman, well-suited families. News about her occasionally reached his ears: the harmonious music of husband and wife at banquets, soon blessed with a daughter, their son clever and bright…

She lived very happily.

He remained alone.

As his official position grew higher, some busybodies in court dug up that old story about his proposal to the Su family to tease him. Afraid of causing her trouble, he deliberately had people spread rumors, saying it was just his one-sided infatuation seeking but not getting the Su family’s daughter. Anyway, his reputation wasn’t good to begin with, so he didn’t mind it being a bit worse.

And Su Ningshuang, having married into the Pei manor and become a wife and mother, no longer had her former freedom. Every year when the maple leaves turned red, he would go to the tea house to drink tea, but she never appeared again.

He always felt it didn’t matter. As long as he waited for the children to gradually grow up, waited for her to have free time, the maple leaves at Danfeng Terrace turned red every year, and a person’s lifetime was so long—they would surely meet again.

Until he received news of her death.

Someone who understood paintings might not necessarily love them. That refined and elegant young master wasn’t the good husband she thought he was.

His life was full of hardships, relatives were cold, and he had no close friends. Only one person wasn’t afraid, didn’t fear, didn’t despise him—like the warm evening glow at Danfeng Terrace, illuminating those years he sat alone in the mountains so they weren’t so lonely. But even this last person had left.

And left so miserably.

He was very angry.

This anger became revenge.

He went along with Prince Ning’s recruitment, though actually it wasn’t because he wanted to climb higher after success. Perhaps he had once had desires for power, but that desire was too light—when he truly obtained it, he felt it was just so-so.

He adopted a group of orphans as his subordinates, with only one exception—her son. He should have hated that man’s bloodline, but that child looked just like his mother, even the small dimple by his lips was exactly the same.

He never married and had no offspring. Yan Xu was cold to Pei Yunying to an almost frightening degree—he scolded him while treating him like his own son.

Having someone to work toward the same goal together made life feel like it had some purpose. But when revenge reached its final step, he suddenly felt empty inside.

What exactly was he taking revenge for?

Su Ningshuang wasn’t his lover, just someone he had a little fondness for in his youth, which was quickly worn away by the years. Yet he devoted half his life to this, raising her son for her, taking revenge for her. What was frightening was that he could feel pleasure in this process—one of the few satisfactions in his empty life.

Ultimately, he was just too lonely.

Su Ningshuang was right: “Your back looks very lonely. Paintings don’t lie—they can see into your heart.”

He was just too lonely.

So lonely that after she left, he felt everything in the human world was dull and tasteless—power struggles were just so-so.

When the long blade swung toward Xiao Zhufeng at the end, he pushed the other away. When the blade pierced through, he felt a long-absent relief.

His two disciples cried miserably before him, but he felt very comforted.

In this world, human hearts change easily. With a new emperor ascending the throne, future matters might not go well. Those who once shared the same boat might not be able to cross together in the future. Dying when their friendship was at its strongest—this was the best legacy he could leave his two disciples.

He could rest assured.

It was just that he was truly tired.

In a person’s life, striving and scheming to the end—what could one really obtain?

He seemed to have gained everything, but always felt unhappy, with nothing worth rejoicing about.

“Yan Xu.” Someone called his name.

He looked up and saw a face with curved eyebrows and eyes.

The young lady carried her art box, dimples on her cheeks as sweet as always, walking toward him from among the red maples covering the mountains, lifting her skirt and smiling: “You can’t renege this time, right? I’ve been waiting here for you for a long time. Finally I can paint your portrait.”

He was stunned for a long time, until she walked before him and extended a hand toward him.

“You came so late.” She complained softly.

He looked at that hand. After a very, very long time, slowly, bit by bit, he reached out his hand toward her and grasped that hand.

“A bit late indeed,” he said.

The empty river, fallen trees, and mournful wild geese, frost enters the red maples as all grass withers… The butterfly knows not if life is but a dream, following spring colors up cold branches again…

The maple leaves at Danfeng Terrace turned red every year. He never waited for that person afterward.

Now, he finally had.