That arrow was the one Yin Zhili shot at the last moment when Ji Heng took Jiang Li away. He had originally intended to aim at Jiang Li, because if he killed Jiang Li, he could make Ji Heng suffer a pain worse than death. But perhaps at the final moment, a trace of reluctance arose, and he still aimed the bow and arrow at Ji Heng instead.
The scene from Hongshan Temple twenty-three years ago was repeating itself—the same lone venture deep into danger, the same ambush from all sides. If there was any difference, when Ji Minghan went, Yu Hongye was already dead, whereas when Ji Heng went, Jiang Li was still alive. Perhaps precisely because his beloved was still alive, he could endure for so long sustained by the heart that wanted to protect her.
Jiang Li couldn’t care about anything else. Though her frame was slender and weak, at this moment of desperate anxiety, she burst forth with tremendous energy, dragging Ji Heng into the cave. She also tied the horse to a rock inside the cave, then groped in the darkness to find water and firewood. She needed to start a fire and boil water to bandage Ji Heng’s wounds. She was unfamiliar with this forest too, but back then in the woods of Tongxiang, she still had some experience. However, finding dry branches in the snow wasn’t easy. Jiang Li walked far before finding some. She carried this firewood on her back and filled a water pot, then ran back to the cave.
Fortunately, in Ji Heng’s horse’s armor bag, there was still a fire starter. Jiang Li also searched Ji Heng’s person and found some medicinal powder, probably prepared for him by Situ Jiuyue before departure. Jiang Li used the fire starter to light a fire, found a stone bowl to boil water, and took off her outer robe to spread on the ground, letting Ji Heng lie on it. Ji Heng’s eyes were tightly closed, seemingly unconscious. Jiang Li’s tears fell instantly.
She had always felt that Ji Heng was someone probably nothing could defeat, because he displayed such overwhelming strength that it naturally created an illusion—he wouldn’t be injured, wouldn’t bleed, much less die. But actually, Ji Heng was just an ordinary person. He was about the same age as Yin Zhili. When he was injured, he was also very fragile and might leave forever.
Jiang Li’s hands trembled as she tried her utmost to calm herself down. She could only imitate the physicians she had seen before, washing Ji Heng’s precious sword clean, removing his armor, using the sword to cut away the clothing stuck together with blood and flesh, and seeing the numerous scars covering his body.
Today he had run through the rain of arrows, blocking them with his shield, but some still injured his body. There were also knife wounds, sword wounds—injuries covering his entire body. His skin was actually very fair, his physique very beautiful, like a leopard full of stored power. However, at this moment, these scars and blood were like cracks covering a porcelain white vase, making one unable to help but want to cry at the sight.
Jiang Li had to pull out this arrow.
She gripped the arrow shaft.
In her mind, suddenly the words Wenren Yao had once said surfaced. He said that when Ji Heng was fourteen, he had cast divination for him. The hexagram said that ten years later, now, Ji Heng would ultimately encounter calamity because of a woman’s misfortune, his corpse left in the wilderness, pecked at by hawks and hounds. Looking at it now, she was indeed Ji Heng’s calamity. If not for rescuing her, Ji Heng wouldn’t have needed to venture deep into danger, much less end up covered in wounds, his life in peril.
She pulled out that arrow.
The body beneath her hand suddenly trembled violently, as if she could hear Ji Heng emit a pained groan. Jiang Li hurriedly turned to look at Ji Heng’s expression. He frowned, seemingly very uncomfortable. Jiang Li called to him softly. He didn’t move or answer.
Jiang Li held back her tears, taking torn pieces of her skirt soaked in hot water, bit by bit cleaning his wounds. Those medicinal powders came in handy at this time. It was also at this time that Jiang Li discovered Ji Heng’s body still bore many old injuries. Not arrow wounds—they looked to be from many years ago. New wounds and old wounds, scar upon scar, looking unbearably tragic.
He had walked the edge between life and death many times. Just looking at those shocking wounds, one could imagine how dangerous his past had been. That he could survive until now was truly because his life was tough. But behind this toughness, what he paid was beyond what ordinary people could imagine. He was only twenty-four now, so from how many years ago did he begin to grow accustomed to this life of licking blood from the blade’s edge? Twenty years old? Fourteen? Or even earlier?
Jiang Li couldn’t continue thinking. Her heart felt like it was stuffed with cotton, unable to catch her breath no matter what. Tears from her eyes fell bit by bit to the ground, unseen by anyone. In her mind, she recalled the daytime scene outside the tent—in the wind and snow, on the plain, watching that crimson-robed figure galloping toward her. He was originally someone who paid attention to appearance, who liked to do everything unhurriedly with elegance and beautiful bearing. Yet now, just to go see her, he was so hurried he couldn’t afford to delay even a moment.
What virtue or ability did she possess? Jiang Li thought sadly. She hadn’t done much for Ji Heng. Her strength was extremely minimal, to the point that in all these confrontations, she instead became a burden dragging him down. Yet Ji Heng had given his most precious thing—his sincere heart.
Jiang Li thought that in this lifetime, her eyes probably could no longer hold anyone else, nor could she ever love anyone else again. Sometimes, a moment is eternity. No matter what happened in the future, everything from today, she would never forget.
She carefully wiped Ji Heng’s wounds, meticulously bandaging every one of Ji Heng’s scars. At this time, still no news came from Wen Ji. Jiang Li feared the firewood would burn out in the night and they’d encounter wild beasts, so she went out again, taking the fire starter to search for more firewood. In passing, she made several traps, thinking perhaps she could catch one or two lone rabbits. Ji Heng was now seriously injured. If Wen Ji never came, Ji Heng would need to eat when he woke, otherwise with a weak body, he would only recover more slowly.
At this time, she again displayed all the courage and strength from before, knowing full well that sitting by Ji Heng’s side crying couldn’t accomplish anything. She should try her utmost to salvage what could be salvaged. She had made traps with Xue Zhao in the forest to capture prey. After so many years, doing it again wasn’t difficult.
She made many trips back and forth, not daring to go too far. Seeing that the firewood in the cave was already sufficient for an entire night, and she had actually caught a gray-furred wild rabbit, she was overjoyed. She used Ji Heng’s precious sword to prepare the rabbit cleanly, packed it in snow, just waiting for whenever Ji Heng woke up to roast it for him to eat.
After finishing everything, she still wanted to do more, as if doing more would bring peace of mind. Until there really was nothing left to do, she draped all her garments over Ji Heng, wearing only her inner garment herself, holding Ji Heng and keeping watch over him. The fire burned quietly beside them. Jiang Li suddenly had the illusion that such peaceful days had already lasted a lifetime. Even if they had nothing, no need for fine clothes and rich food, as long as this person stayed by her side, this life would have no other desires.
She just held Ji Heng like this. She didn’t know how much time passed. The fire pile in the cave gradually grew smaller. She got up and added more firewood. Just at this moment, Ji Heng’s body moved. She hurriedly went forward, running to Ji Heng’s side, nervously calling his name: “Ji Heng!”
Ji Heng’s eyes opened. He seemed to want to move his body, but injuries covered him from head to toe. With this movement, his brows couldn’t help but furrow. Jiang Li said, “Don’t move. If you want water, I’ll get it for you.” She went to get the water pot filled with hot water, sat on the ground, let Ji Heng’s head rest on her leg, and fed him bit by bit.
His lips were moistened by the clear water, regaining their color. He only asked, “Where is this?”
“We walked into the forest. I don’t know what place this is either. You fainted, so I brought you to this cave. I’ve used up all the medicine you were carrying. I’ve also bandaged your wounds a bit. Are you hungry? I hunted a rabbit. Let me roast it for you to eat.” She chattered on.
Jiang Li wasn’t someone who talked a lot, yet now she kept talking and talking, as if this could dispel some of the fear in her heart. Ji Heng smiled and grasped her hand, saying, “Well done, young lady.”
Jiang Li’s tears fell instantly.
Her tears were scalding hot, almost burning one’s heart. Ji Heng said, “Stop crying. In the past when I saw you, you rarely shed tears and loved to smile most. Now why do you instead not like smiling but like crying? When your father sees this, he’ll blame me again for making you cry.”
When Ji Heng first met Jiang Li, she did always smile—that calm, gentle smile that never reached her eyes. Even when smiling, it made people feel she was hiding something in her heart. At that time, he had been wickedly eager to see her lose composure—panicked or fearful, peeling away her mask. Now she concealed nothing before him, showing her most vulnerable side, yet he began to feel heartache, wishing she would never be sad.
He reached out, gently wiping away Jiang Li’s tears, saying, “Don’t cry anymore, A-Li.”
“You… you shouldn’t have done this,” Jiang Li choked out. “No matter when, your own life is most important.”
“You are most important,” he answered gently.
Jiang Li shook her head. “Young Master Wenren cast divination for you back then. After I learned of it, I’ve always been afraid I would cause your death. Ji Heng, if I cause your death, I won’t be happy for the rest of my life. That would have no meaning for me.”
“Silly girl,” he touched her head and smiled. Jiang Li had never seen him smile so peacefully, as if relieved of a heavy burden, having unloaded many things. He said, “How could you cause my death? You saved me.”
Jiang Li frowned.
“Last time when I was unhappy, you sang for me. This time you cried, so I’ll perform an opera for you, all right?” He was like a man coaxing his beloved young lady, incomparably indulgent, gentle, granting her every wish.
Jiang Li looked at him. Before she could speak, he, resting his head on Jiang Li’s leg, slowly, slowly began to sing.
“In a flash, all past feelings have been forgotten, having seen through the bitter parts, tears wet my garments.”
His voice was soft, resonating in the cave. Different from actors on stage, he wasn’t particularly emotional, but instead gentle, narrating unhurriedly, as if telling a story. Yet also like a theater-goer who ultimately became most immersed in the play. Joys and sorrows scattered into the night.
Jiang Li wanted to see what expression Ji Heng wore, but he closed his eyes, so she could no longer glimpse his inner heart. The corners of his lips curved slightly, his voice also carrying reminiscence. In the deep mountain and wild forest, like an evil spirit luring travelers astray into the abyss with song, the song exhausted, romance filled the sky.
“I only thought iron riches were fated for life, but who knew human fate changes clearly in an instant. Thinking of those years when I too acted coquettish and willful, now how can I not believe in past lives.”
Jiang Li’s gaze grew heavy. This opera—why did it sound so familiar, as if she had heard it somewhere before? In memory, it seemed someone had also sung it—a clear, smiling female voice. On some spring-intoxicated night, by a wall, in a courtyard, on a swing, that female voice gradually overlapped with Ji Heng’s voice.
“This too is heaven’s teaching: He teaches me to release remaining resentment, avoid petty anger, renew myself, change my nature, cease longing for flowing water, turn back from the sea of bitterness, early comprehend the orchid cause.”
Jiang Li’s lips gradually began to move along. Her voice merged with Ji Heng’s voice, gentle and sorrowful.
“He teaches me to release remaining resentment, avoid petty anger, renew myself, change my nature, cease longing for flowing water, turn back from the sea of bitterness, early comprehend the orchid cause.” The lyrics of “The Lock of the Brocade Bag” were bitter yet self-mocking. Chewing on them in her mouth, one could almost feel the character’s bitterness. Ji Heng rested his head on her leg, eyes slightly closed, seemingly already asleep. But somewhere in the depths of memory, that night when the city was full of red flowers and green willows, that moonlit spring-breeze evening, like a dust-covered painting, was suddenly stripped of dust and slowly unfolded before Jiang Li.
…
Spring day, red flowers and green willows. Even the night wind carried tender affection, brushing across people’s faces, romantic yet frivolous. The night at the Duke’s Manor was cold and somber. Not a single voice spoke in the courtyard. In the secret chamber, the person lying on the couch had a pale face and closed eyes. An originally handsome face had now become skin and bones from emaciation, all features sunken in, very frightening.
Situ Jiuyue stood by the bed, saying in a low voice, “I’m sorry. I cannot save him. The poison I refined… was useless.”
Hearing this, Old General Ji beside her staggered, nearly falling. Situ Jiuyue supported him, preventing him from falling to the ground. He pointed at the man on the couch. His eyes were clearly full of grief, yet he still had to force out a smile, saying, “This… is also good. For Minghan, he’s finally free. A-Heng,” he patted the young man standing beside him, “don’t be sad. This isn’t your fault.”
Lying on the couch was none other than General of the Golden Guards Ji Minghan. Since Wen Ji’s father risked his life to bring Ji Minghan back over twenty years ago, Old General Ji had been searching everywhere for divine physicians who could cure the poison. Later, Ji Heng rescued the Mohan Princess from Mohan and saved Poison Princess Situ Jiuyue. Traveling far and wide to collect the world’s rare poisons, Situ Jiuyue used poison to fight poison, restraining the poison’s spread. But they had reached the final moment—either await death or fight desperately.
Ji Heng’s choice was to take the gamble. Unfortunately, heaven didn’t favor the Ji family. Even the poison medicine Situ Jiuyue painstakingly developed couldn’t save Ji Minghan. Ji Minghan died just like this. From Ji Heng’s birth until now, from when Ji Heng first saw him, he had always been on the verge of death. Now he was truly freed, but he died without ever opening his eyes to look at his own son even once, without saying a single word to Ji Heng.
He left so heartlessly.
The young man in red robes stood before the couch. He lowered his head. One could see his beautiful profile but couldn’t see the light in his eyes. He had come here for many, many years now—from an innocent young child, gradually growing into a gracefully handsome youth, and now into this gorgeous young man. He grew taller day by day, but Ji Minghan on the couch had never opened his eyes to look at him even once. The young little Ji Heng had once felt wronged by this, thinking it was because he had done something wrong that his father refused to open his eyes to look at him. But as he gradually grew up, personally wandering in darkness, learning the terrible, ugly truth, he no longer hoped futilely. Instead, he personally threw himself into hell, making deals with demons, just to exchange for a thread of survival for the Duke’s Manor.
This thread of survival had now been personally extinguished by him. Old General Ji worried Ji Heng would feel guilty and blame himself. Even though his own heart was grief-stricken, he still had to smile.
Ji Heng raised his head. In this bleak atmosphere, that face of his even displayed a kind of desolate beauty. Yet he only curved the corners of his mouth, his expression utterly bland, his tone without ripples. Using the tone he used when watching opera on ordinary days—that tone without empathy, forgotten after watching—he said, “Then do as he hoped and scatter his ashes in Mother’s tomb.”
When Ji Minghan was taken away by Wen Ji’s father that year, he still had consciousness. The last words he instructed his subordinates were that if he died, they should burn his bones to ashes and bury them together with Yu Hongye, letting no one know. Ji Minghan himself understood that his opponents were the Empress Dowager and Yin Zhan. And now in the Duke’s Manor, there was only his young son and old father. If the Empress Dowager wanted to kill and silence them, she might very well not spare this grandfather-grandson pair either. Without complete preparation, they couldn’t act rashly and could only play dumb.
This matter of playing dumb was originally Old General Ji’s own decision. In Yu Hongye’s matter, he played dumb, yet it harmed his own son into becoming like this. Later playing dumb, Old General Ji had no choice but to do so. He originally wanted to hide it from Ji Heng, wanting to wait until Ji Heng was a bit older to tell him. But at some unknown point, the grown Ji Heng became willful and unpredictable. Even this grandfather sometimes didn’t know what he was thinking. Not until the teenage Ji Heng brought Situ Jiuyue back from Mohan and asked Old General Ji in the study whether he knew who killed Yu Hongye and Ji Minghan back then—in that moment, Old General Ji understood. This grandson had already grown at an astonishing speed without his knowledge. He had already investigated the truth himself and was preparing revenge.
Old General Ji could no longer control Ji Heng’s decisions. He didn’t even know what Ji Heng wanted to do. Ji Heng refused to have heart-to-heart talks with him. Whenever Old General Ji inquired, he would smile and brush it off evasively. That absent-mindedness was obvious even to the manor’s gardeners.
But tonight’s Ji Heng—Old General Ji felt that although he smiled on the surface, in his heart, he was crying. Although he spoke with smiles, as if he didn’t take anything to heart, Old General Ji suddenly thought of the young Ji Heng crying and shaking Ji Minghan on the couch, calling out in grievance why Father wouldn’t wake up to look at him.
After so many years, that small Ji Heng and the Ji Heng before his eyes overlapped again, making Old General Ji feel momentarily dazed.
Ji Heng didn’t look at the person on the couch anymore. He turned and walked out. Old General Ji called to stop him, asking, “Where are you going?”
“Out for a walk.”
Old General Ji was about to speak, but Situ Jiuyue tugged at Old General Ji’s sleeve, shaking her head at him and saying softly, “Let him be alone for a while.”
When Old General Ji looked toward the doorway again, Ji Heng had already left.
Today was the Spring Welcome Day. By evening, the temple fair became even livelier. The city’s lake surface was densely covered with floating lanterns. Young ladies and madams wore carefully selected garments, releasing lantern boats by the lake. On the streets, the crowds watching entertainers burst into cheers from time to time. There were also clay figurine makers and sugar blowers. Children pulled their parents’ hands, their little trinkets so numerous they couldn’t hold them all. In wine houses, scholars competing in poetry came in endless streams, displaying their talents. Everywhere was a scene of prosperity.
Ji Heng walked slowly along the lakeside. He held a gorgeous gold-threaded folding fan, his red robe trailing the ground. With this appearance, he deserved the four words “devastatingly beautiful.” Walking here, everyone couldn’t help but cast their gaze toward him, loving yet fearing him, afraid this moody Duke of Su might suddenly rage and go on a killing spree. Only young ladies going out for the first time dared to boldly stare directly at Ji Heng, yet were again lost in thought at this rarely-seen human beauty, only to lower their heads in self-deprecation.
From the pleasure boats on the lake came faint sounds of song and dance. Not far away was an opera stage with someone performing on top. The audience surrounded the bottom. The singing was indistinct. He just walked unhurriedly through this bustling liveliness. He was more splendid than the splendor here, yet completely incompatible with the bustle, like a beautiful person transformed from ghost or demon, walking through the human marketplace. All the world’s soft red dust merely passed before his eyes, viewed with disdain.
The corners of Ji Heng’s mouth held a smile. His amber eyes held endless frivolity and romance. But in his heart, on this day of human spring warmth, it froze into ice.
His father was dead. If he hadn’t had Situ Jiuyue attempt to save Ji Minghan, Ji Minghan could have lived one more year. In that year, perhaps there would have been other chances for survival. Because he chose to try, Ji Minghan also had to bear such risk, and so Ji Minghan died—died on this bustling spring night. And he actually didn’t shed a single tear.
Perhaps he truly was heartless and lungless, cold and ruthless as rumors said, so he could be unmoved even by his own father’s death. But Ji Heng also felt that his heart had been split open with a huge crack. Fierce wind howled in from outside, filling him until his entire being felt hollow and empty.
The Duke’s Manor was splendid with flowers and brocade, with overwhelming power and influence. But from when he could remember, it had been as cold and desolate as a magnificent tomb. He grew up here. He seemed never to have had an especially innocent and carefree time. His precociousness was frightening. Thinking about it now, it seemed from very, very long ago, he had been preparing for revenge.
His targets for revenge—one was the high and mighty Empress, who was now the Empress Dowager. One was the Prince far away in Yunzhong. The opponent’s troops were fierce and formidable. But what did he have? Only the empty shell of the Duke’s Manor and the Golden Guards who didn’t obey his orders.
From nothing to something was a long process. In this long process, Ji Heng had not a trace of anticipation. Revenge was different from other wishes. Some wanted to become officials, so they desperately studied planning to pass the imperial examination in one try. Some wanted to get rich, so they did business with others, working diligently and using their brains. Some wanted to marry into high families. Some wished to wander the four seas. Everyone had their own wishes. After they worked hard and achieved their heart’s desires, what they sought would naturally be obtained.
But what could he obtain?
He knew from the start that this revenge was merely the blood debt owed many years ago. He couldn’t even collect the debt through ordinary means. What justice and righteousness were merely passing clouds. Where in the world were such things? Better that he seek a path from within darkness. And walking to the path’s end, he would gain nothing. Ji Minghan and Yu Hongye wouldn’t come back to life. And the time he lost, the carefree time he should have had as a noble family’s son, wouldn’t return either.
The end of darkness was still darkness. He seemed to never find what light he should pursue. When Ji Minghan was still alive, Ji Heng had still harbored a trace of naive hope. Perhaps one day Ji Minghan could awaken. He would look at him and praise him proudly, saying his son had already grown so tall, had become so strong.
But the ending was nothing. Heaven seemed to punish him for daring to harbor such a naive thought, so even this trace of naive hope was severed. He completely fell into darkness, impossible to emerge again.
Then so be it. This wasn’t bad either. In any case, human life in the world was originally walking through the sea of bitterness. Sooner or later, it had to come.
He raised his head, his smile increasingly moving.
He followed the bustle, followed the crowd’s cheers, slowly walking past. Gradually, the lantern lights were left behind him. Prosperity was also left behind him. He gradually walked into the streets. That seemed like where poor people lived. No one walked in the alleys at night either. He walked slowly, merging with the night, walking into darkness.
A breeze arose in the distance. On spring nights, even the wind was intoxicating. Ji Heng raised his head, looking at the sky. In the sky, the galaxy was brilliant, like a person’s gentle gaze. He leaned against the wall, slowly, slowly sliding down to sit.
He was truly very tired.
Just walking like this, walking and walking, not knowing when he would reach the end. In all those past years, Ji Heng had never once had the thought of being unable to persevere. He was young, cunning, sinister, ruthless, stopping at nothing, with nothing he couldn’t accomplish. He didn’t shrink from sacrificing or using anyone or anything, as long as he could achieve his goal.
But this resolve suddenly collapsed tonight. Ji Minghan’s death made his heart truly feel exhaustion. He wasn’t afraid, only bewildered, feeling he didn’t know how much longer such days would continue, not knowing whether everything he did had any meaning at all. Yu Hongye died many years ago. Ji Minghan had also died. Everything he did, those two couldn’t see. His enemies lived in luxury while he—what could he do?
He despaired to the point of wanting to die.
Just then, separated from him by a wall, a woman’s voice sounded. Someone said, “Madam, they’ve all gone out. You stayed alone in the manor. Aren’t you sad?”
Then he heard a clear voice, carrying a smile: “What is there to be sad about?”