“She definitely will be?”

Hearing Nangong Jun’s answer, though it was only a short four words, Xinyun felt as though she’d heard a vow as vast and enduring as the sea drying up and the stones crumbling.

At this moment, she was so close to Nangong Jun, and yet, it was true to that saying—so near, and yet worlds apart. She loved Nangong Jun, but Nangong Jun knew nothing of it, able to speak so freely with her about his beloved!

Xinyun hadn’t meant to ask so much. She didn’t even know what had come over her—every question only brought pain, only brought hurt, and yet she still wanted, wanted to know!

Listening to her beloved speak of his own beloved, seeing the warmth in his eyes, the contentment in his smile—it was an unbearable feeling!

Wave after wave of bitterness surged into her heart, and yet, though her heart ached as if it might die, she still forced herself to smile.

Even as the pain told her, again and again, to stop, not to ask, not to know more—she couldn’t help herself, wanting to know even more.

Anything related to him, she wanted to know—even if it was, at the same time, related to another woman!

“Miss Helian… must love you very much,” Xinyun said with a faint, bitter smile.

“Mm.” Nangong Jun nodded without even thinking. “She loves me very much, willing to give up everything for me. Never mind these twenty-some years—even two hundred years, she would wait for me.”

As he said this, Nangong Jun glanced toward Xinyun. Xinyun instinctively avoided his gaze, afraid he’d notice anything unusual, saying only flatly, “That’s wonderful.”

Watching Xinyun’s forced, faint smile, Nangong Jun’s eyes suddenly softened, tinged with a hint of pity. “She really is very good… very good.”

It was as though he weren’t speaking of Miss Helian at all, but of the very person he was looking at right now.

But this person, head lowered, noticed nothing at all.

After a long while, Xinyun asked again, “Miss Helian must be very beautiful, isn’t she? I’ve heard the silver dragonkin produce the most beauties among all the dragonkin clans.”

Seeing Xinyun look up, Nangong Jun withdrew his gentle gaze and smiled. “Mm, she’s very beautiful. Especially her large eyes—one glance and you’d never forget them for the rest of your life. Even now, if I close my eyes, I can still picture her exactly.”

As he spoke, Nangong Jun actually closed his eyes, looking utterly entranced.

Xinyun’s heart ached listening to this, ached even more watching him, and yet she still wanted to ask more, as if no matter how much she learned about him, it would never be enough.

With a nervous heart, she boldly asked, “How… how did you two meet?”

“By chance…” Nangong Jun answered without thinking, the words tumbling out.

“By chance?” Xinyun asked.

“Mm…” Nangong Jun thought for a moment, then added, “Meeting you was also by chance.”

Xinyun nodded immediately—of course she remembered, remembered it clearly. She’d met this fellow purely by chance, one afternoon years ago. She’d been scolded by the head of her household, in a terrible mood, sitting alone on a cliff looking at the sea, and seeing the calm water, had thought of jumping down for a swim.

Who would have known that Nangong Jun, passing by, thought she meant to kill herself, and jumped in after her, dragging her desperately toward shore, no matter how she struggled.

Once he’d pulled her onto shore, he’d even given her a serious scolding, saying something about how young she was and how she didn’t cherish her life, how she was letting her family down.

Recalling how they’d met, Xinyun couldn’t help but burst out laughing, the ache in her heart seeming to ease, her lips curving into a sweet smile, laughing like a satisfied child who’d just eaten a full meal.

Watching her laugh, Nangong Jun felt something stir, instinctively reaching out to tuck back a strand of her hair. But just then, Xinyun spoke again, “Back then, why wasn’t Miss Helian with you?”

Nangong Jun’s hand froze slightly, and he withdrew it silently, a flash of helplessness in his eyes—what was he to do with this woman?

“Back then, I hadn’t even met Miss Helian yet,” he said flatly.

“So then, I met you even before Miss Helian…” Xinyun seemed about to say “met,” but the word changed on her lips at the last moment. “…even knew you first, then?”

Nangong Jun nodded, and for a moment, the two of them fell into silence.

Nangong Jun leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes deep in thought, seeming to be mulling something over, while Xinyun sank back into her own private world of tangled thoughts—so many questions she wanted to ask, yet not knowing where to start.

In the end, she asked this question: “Nangong, once you leave this place, you’ll go marry Miss Helian right away, won’t you?”

What she wanted to know most, more than anything, was his future.

Someday, he would marry, he would have children, he would become head of his household, he would become the leader of the dragonkin clan.

She wanted to know his future, wanted to know what he would achieve, wanted to know every little detail of his life to come.

When he started a family, when he held his wife and children in his arms, she would only be here, alone, watching the sea.

Even if she truly wanted to leap into the sea, this man would never appear again to save her.

At the thought, Xinyun felt so sad she wanted to cry, forgetting even what question she’d just asked, no longer caring whether Nangong Jun would answer, or how.

She drew her knees up and buried her face against them, like an injured child.

How she wished she could be ruthless—steal him away from his intended, or threaten with her own death—to make Nangong Jun stay. She had always been a decisive, ruthless person.

But faced with Nangong Jun, all those years ago, she had chosen to let go, to wish him well.

And yet, Nangong Jun, head tilted back, not looking at her, still answered her question—answered it so cruelly.

“Mm, the moment I get out, I’ll go propose marriage right away. I’ll prepare a bridal gift procession ten li long, every single basket filled with lavender, her favorite flower, and personally go to ask for her hand.”

Only then did Xinyun come back to her senses, murmuring, “She loves lavender too.”

Lavender was Xinyun’s favorite flower as well. Originally, Liuxian Island hadn’t had so much lavender—it was Xinyun who had begged the musician to create an entire field of it.

“Mm, she loves the lavender fields most of all. She once said, if she had to die, she’d want to die in a sea of lavender, to be reborn as a flower fairy in her next life,” Nangong Jun said with a smile.

Xinyun suddenly gave a faint smile, murmuring, “Just like me.” Only, her voice was so soft, so quiet, that even she herself could barely hear it.

“So, she really is a lot like me,” she murmured to herself, gradually falling silent.

At this, Nangong Jun finally looked down at her, suddenly turning serious, and asked, “Meng Xinyun, are you afraid of dying?”

Xinyun was startled, looking up at him. “What brought this on?”

“Just curious,” Nangong Jun said with a smile.

“Death?” Xinyun thought about it for a long while, then smiled, answering honestly, “Yes. Very afraid. Very, very afraid.”

Seeing her smile so foolishly, so genuinely, Nangong Jun couldn’t help but laugh heartily, reaching out to affectionately ruffle her bangs. “Silly girl, what’s there to be afraid of in death!”

Xinyun froze slightly—she had never seen Nangong Jun look at her with such tenderness before, never seen him make such an affectionate gesture.

But before she could recover, Nangong Jun had already withdrawn his hand, leaning back against the wall once more, slowly closing his eyes.