The location chosen for melting the ice was the Ningbi Pool in the prince’s mansion. Ningbi Pool was a natural hot spring located in the Longcui Garden on the hillside of Fu Mountain. Mist swirled above the pool, and flowers bloomed in abundance around it, creating a scene reminiscent of a celestial realm.
When Meilin noticed flowers blooming out of season, she was momentarily stunned before slowly breaking into a smile. As Murong Jinghe placed Muye Luomei on a lounge chair by the pool, he caught sight of Meilin’s expression. His heart suddenly felt both sour and soft, regretting that he hadn’t thought to bring her here earlier.
“I suppose this counts as seeing the spring flowers of Jingbei,” Meilin thought contentedly. As her mood lightened, her mind became more active. She met Murong Jinghe’s gaze and said with a smile, “This place is truly wonderful.”
This was the first time she had spoken to him since they parted ways in Lao Wozi Village. Murong Jinghe was somewhat surprised, his heart racing while feeling a vague sense of unease. Nevertheless, his dark eyes involuntarily softened. He recalled her gentle murmurings in his ear and her joyful, husky singing voice from what now seemed like a distant past. It felt so long ago that he could barely remember how her voice had once soothed his fears and confusion in that completely isolated situation, giving him hope.
“If you like it, then…” he began to respond instinctively but was interrupted before he could finish.
“Prince Murong, although it is an honor for this humble woman to contribute to saving the future princess, I still have some concerns. If they are not addressed, I fear I cannot wholeheartedly serve the prince and his bride-to-be,” Meilin said respectfully, lowering her eyes. Although she had decided to sever all ties, she couldn’t help but feel a bitter taste in her mouth when saying the words “bride-to-be.”
Murong Jinghe’s expression changed slightly, finding the titles of “prince” and “princess” particularly grating coming from her lips. Ironically, her tone and demeanor showed no trace of sarcasm; instead, they were exceedingly respectful, leaving him with no grounds for outbursts.
“If you want something, just say it directly. Why bother with all this roundabout talk?” he said coldly, suppressing his displeasure as his gaze hardened.
Meilin smiled slightly, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground, pretending not to notice his irritation. “Then I shall speak frankly,” she said. Each time she referred to herself as “this humble woman,” she couldn’t help but emphasize the words as if trying to remind both him and herself that she was now a free person, no longer connected to anyone.
“This humble woman is unfortunate and does not wish to burden Lord Qingyan. Therefore, I would like to request that the prince obtain a divorce paper from Lord Qingyan on my behalf.” She had once considered living a good life with Qingyan, but upon discovering that he already had someone in his heart, she abandoned the idea. Why burden others unnecessarily?
Murong Jinghe was momentarily stunned, but then the corners of his lips couldn’t help but curl upward as he promptly agreed. He had originally arranged for Qingyan to marry her to keep her by his side, using Qingyan’s abilities to protect her from Luomei’s bullying while also alleviating Luomei’s concerns. However, who would have thought that upon seeing her become another man’s wife, he would be the first to find it unbearable? At the same time, facts proved that the relationship couldn’t truly bind her. Since that was the case, he was naturally happy to comply with her initiative to dissolve the marriage with Qingyan.
However, his mood had barely begun to soar before her next words brought it crashing back down.
“After this, the prince must not use any reason or means to compel this humble woman. It would be best if… we never meet again.” The last sentence was muttered in an extremely low voice, as she was still afraid of provoking his temperamental nature. Her original intention was that if she didn’t have long to live, it wouldn’t matter, but if she was fortunate enough to survive thanks to the shaman, she naturally couldn’t have any further entanglement with him. Who knew what strange situations he might encounter next? Even a hundred lives wouldn’t be enough for such turmoil.
With his keen hearing, Murong Jinghe naturally caught every word she said. He was originally a proud and arrogant person, and earlier, his willingness to harm Muye Luomei, who had saved his life, to protect Meilin had already left him feeling troubled. Now, hearing that she didn’t share his reluctance to part and wanted to completely sever their connection, an indescribable anger and frustration rose in his chest.
He let out a cold laugh, turning his gaze away from her. His tone was mocking as he said, “The lady need not worry. If it weren’t for General Muye, someone of your status wouldn’t even be worth an audience with this prince.”
Was this agreement or not? Meilin’s heart constricted slightly, but she was also confused. She raised her head to see his upturned chin and felt the urge to make him put his promise in writing, but considering his temperament, she ultimately decided against it.
The shaman had been waiting nearby, either not understanding their conversation or choosing not to interfere. He simply smiled and admired the surrounding scenery with appreciation in his eyes.
As Meilin walked over, he bent down to pick two stalks of white-flowered yarrow near his feet. Removing the flowers and leaves, he divided the bare stems into several segments and arranged them in his palm. Then, he looked up at Murong Jinghe.
“Must enter the water,” he said.
Meilin was puzzled as to why Murong Jinghe needed to enter the water, but Murong Jinghe’s face had already stiffened, his eyes showing a conflicted expression.
Entering the water meant removing clothes. Removing clothes… He glanced irritatedly at the confused Meilin and asked reluctantly, “Can I wear a thin garment?” Even in his anger, he was unwilling to let others see her body.
The shaman nodded.
So Murong Jinghe grabbed Meilin and dragged her to the changing area, selecting a non-transparent cyan-colored celestial silkworm robe from his spare clothes.
“Take off your clothes,” he said, approaching Meilin with the robe. Seeing her hesitation, he impatiently reached out and undid her sash in two or three moves, stripping off her outer jacket.
“Hey, hey… you… you go out first… I’ll do it myself,” Meilin reacted, realizing that the shaman had meant for her to enter the water, though she didn’t understand why he had addressed Murong Jinghe. But there was no time to think about it now, as she had to dodge his unusually agile hands while angrily trying to make him leave. This man was truly… They had just had a falling out, yet now he showed no sense of propriety.
Murong Jinghe sneered, “Who would bother looking at your bony body anyway?” Despite his words, when his hand accidentally brushed against her chest, he stiffened for a moment. However, he quickly acted as if nothing had happened, throwing the robe at her and leaving with a curt “Hurry up.”
Meilin caught the robe just before it fell to the ground, instinctively bringing it to her nose for a sniff. Although the garment was clean and fresh, she could still detect a faint scent unique to him.
Sighing helplessly, she vaguely felt as if she were trapped in a web, unable to escape no matter how determined she was.
Although the celestial silkworm robe was soft and smooth, comfortable to wear against the skin, it was made to fit Murong Jinghe’s build. On Meilin, it was inevitably too large and too long, making her feel loose and uncomfortable everywhere.
When she walked out, the shaman showed no unusual reaction, but Murong Jinghe’s expression changed. He strode over and grabbed her, using his body to block the shaman’s view as he untied the sash of her robe, tightening the neckline securely before retying it.
His movements were so quick that Meilin hadn’t even reacted before the sash was undone. She could only stand rigidly, allowing him to adjust her clothing. There was no point in arguing with him at this moment; she would only end up at a disadvantage. However, looking at the man’s cold and serious face, she couldn’t help but think it strange. This person didn’t consider himself an outsider.
After inspecting her up and down to ensure nothing was amiss, Murong Jinghe turned and walked away as if he had merely dusted her off.
Meilin stood calmly in place, and only after a moment did she woodenly step forward to continue walking towards the shaman. She knew that if she tried to argue with this man, she would never win.
The shaman smiled and raised his hand. Without any visible movement, several green flashes of light streaked through the air, and the yarrow stems that had been arranged in his hand shot straight into several of Meilin’s vital acupoints, disappearing. Meilin’s body swayed, about to collapse to the ground, but was caught in time by Murong Jinghe, who had been keeping a close eye on her.
A faint fragrance of pine and bamboo emanated from her body. Murong Jinghe sniffed and couldn’t help but lower his head to smell her more closely.
“You must not,” the shaman spoke, stopping him. “I have used the pure energy of the yarrow to awaken the Junzi Gu. If your nose and lips get too close, the Gu may easily transfer hosts.”
Murong Jinghe froze for a moment, looking at the small face of the woman in his arms, which had shrunk to the size of a palm. A thought struck him, and he asked, “If that Gu were transferred to my body, wouldn’t it be more useful than in this woman’s body?” After all, he was more capable than this foolish woman. Even if there were any dangers, he should be able to handle them.
Meilin’s heart jolted, and she couldn’t help but curse, “Are you stupid?” Unfortunately, unable to move, she could only glare hatefully at his chin.
Murong Jinghe looked down at her condescendingly, appearing impatient to deal with her. Then he turned to the shaman eagerly, waiting for him to nod or give some indication before he would lower his head to bite her a couple of times.
The shaman laughed and shook his head. “Your internal energy is too abundant. If the Gu enters your body, it will cause your qi to expand rapidly, resulting in instant death.” After speaking, he wasted no more time and gestured for Murong Jinghe to place Meilin in the water.
Only then did Murong Jinghe recall the words of the scabby-headed doctor. His mood instantly plummeted as he had to admit that the woman’s earlier insult had never been more accurate. He wasn’t just stupid; he was insane. With Western Yan not yet pacified, Southern Yue unstable, and the political situation uncertain, not only could his body not withstand the Junzi Gu, but even if it could, he couldn’t afford to stay here and waste time.
The green needle in the shaman’s hand was crafted from mugwort essence using his unique power, a natural nemesis to gu creatures. He knelt on the brocade rug behind Muye Luomei, a brazier placed beside him.
Supporting Muye Luomei’s chin with one hand, he instructed her to close her eyes and tilt her head back. With lightning speed, he inserted the mugwort needle into the tiny black holes on her face.
Though Muye Luomei felt no pain, she furrowed her brow, experiencing an indescribable discomfort.
The shaman withdrew the needles, their tips piercing rice-grain-sized black worms that continued to writhe and struggle. He held the needle tips to the fire, causing the black worms to vanish like mist, leaving no trace as if they were made of water. The holes on Muye Luomei’s face closed at a visible rate, disappearing instantly. Her healed skin glowed like jade, even more delicate than before the gu infestation.
The shaman explained that using Meilin’s blood could have expelled all the gu worms at once, but the numerous holes would have left permanent scars on her body. Thus, they had to remove them one by one, a more time-consuming process.
No one questioned his words or decisions.
Murong Jinghe displayed remarkable patience, engaging Muye Luomei in casual conversation to distract her. Having fought side by side and been entangled for over a decade, they had plenty to discuss. However, these topics held little relevance for Meilin, who soon closed her eyes and began to doze off. She reluctantly admitted to herself that she felt jealous, though she knew it was unreasonable. After all, he wasn’t hers, and it wasn’t her place to mind his attentiveness to his future princess consort.
As she drifted off, Meilin suddenly felt her face burning as if scorched by the sun. She opened her eyes groggily, following the source of the heat, only to meet Murong Jinghe’s irritated gaze.
“Did he suffer another setback with General Muye?” she mused inwardly, feeling a hint of schadenfreude. Careful not to show it, she turned away indifferently, yawned, and continued to feign sleep.
Faced with her blatant disregard, Murong Jinghe had to exercise great self-control to resist the urge to shake her. However, his irritation was short-lived as urgent military news from South Yue forced him to leave abruptly. When he returned, his expression was stern, no longer resembling the carefree prince from before.
“The South Yue King’s two fugitive brothers have allied with West Yan, leading a large army to surround the South Yue capital. Qing Yan is besieged and isolated. I must leave immediately,” he informed Muye Luomei, who looked at him questioningly. Without waiting for a response, he turned and entered the changing room.
“Is he leaving already?” Meilin lowered her eyes, then remembered something that had been weighing on her mind. She turned to the shaman.
“Shaman, you mentioned he has the aura of the Junzi Gu?” She had initially wanted to ask if he was also infected but realized it was unlikely, or the shaman wouldn’t have mentioned the gu-changing hosts.
The shaman, focused on removing Gu from Muye Luomei, merely nodded without speaking.
“Is it dangerous?” Meilin pressed.
“It’s harmless. The aura is merely residual from your intimate contact. It will slightly increase his inner power, but it’s not life-threatening,” the shaman replied gently, his tone reassuring.
Meilin hadn’t expected such a frank response. Her ears turned red as she deliberately ignored the suddenly sharp gaze beside her, pressing her lips together in silence.
Moments later, Murong Jinghe emerged, dressed. Meilin kept her eyes lowered, listening to him bid farewell to Muye Luomei and hearing the latter’s reasonable and magnanimous response to the urgent matter. Even feeling his burning gaze upon her, she didn’t look up until his hurried footsteps faded away. They were destined to part ways like this sooner or later, so why indulge in one last glance?
After Murong Jinghe’s departure, the shaman continued removing gu worms from Muye Luomei at his own pace. These two women, who had never seen eye to eye, were now forced to share the same pool by day and room by night. However, the gu removal process left Muye Luomei too exhausted to cause trouble for Meilin, who naturally avoided provocation. Thus, they coexisted peacefully for over twenty days. Yet, the Junzi Gu within Meilin remained active, dramatically increasing her life force consumption. If not for the shaman’s daily concoctions to stimulate her vitality, she would have collapsed long ago. Even so, Meilin could feel her body slowly withering. But with Muye Luomei present, she never voiced her concerns to the shaman.
Sometimes, waking in the middle of the night, she couldn’t help but think that the assurances of no mortal danger were likely lies. Yet she knew clearly that even if it meant exchanging her life, she had no other choice. It only made her heart ache more.
Yue Qin hadn’t accompanied Murong Jinghe to South Yue, so he visited her daily to keep her company.
On that day, the gu worms had been almost completely removed from Muye Luomei’s body, with not a single hole remaining. She looked as if she had been given a new skin, so beautiful it was hard to look directly at her.
The shaman removed the yarrow grass from Meilin’s acupoints, cut her wrist, and collected a bowl of blood. He then had Muye Luomei drink it, explaining that this was the only way to thoroughly cleanse the gu poison from her body.
After drinking, Muye Luomei began to vomit violently moments later.
Meilin lay on her bed, listening to the sounds of retching that seemed to turn her insides out, her vision darkening. It wasn’t until a small head appeared before her, speaking softly, that she regained some consciousness.
“Sister, sister, are you alright?” Yue Qin asked worriedly, looking at Meilin’s pale, lusterless face and skin.
Meilin gathered her strength and gestured for Yue Qin to bring his ear close to her lips.
“Listen to me, don’t cry,” she whispered, her voice audible only to the two of them.
Her words had the opposite effect, immediately bringing tears to Yue Qin’s eyes and filling him with unease. However, seeing the unprecedented severity in her eyes, he dared not cry out, instead mumbling an acknowledgment and leaning in again.
“If… I’m saying if I die… if you dare cry, get out and never come see me again!” Meilin had barely uttered the word “die” when she saw Yue Qin’s lips quiver, forcing her to sternly rebuke him. Seeing him truly hold back, she continued, “If I die, and if you don’t mind the trouble, take me to North Jing… Find a place where flowers bloom in spring and bury me there.”
Yue Qin remained silent as tears slid down his face, falling onto Mei Lin’s lips. She pretended not to notice and continued speaking calmly and slowly: “Don’t bother with a coffin… just bury me like this. Rather than being confined to a small space in a coffin or grass mat, I’d prefer to merge with the soil and nourish a field of spring flowers. That way, I might share in some of their glory…” She said the last sentence in a joking tone. However, this made it even harder for Yue Qin to bear. Before she could finish, he suddenly stood up and shouted at her, “I hate it when you talk like that!” Then he rushed out.
Knowing he had surely gone to find a place to cry alone, Mei Lin sighed helplessly. Ignoring the strange look Mu Ye Luomei cast her way, she slowly closed her eyes. Her hand, hidden under the blanket, gripped tightly to a dagger she had just taken from the young man.
Logically, Mu Ye should have moved out immediately now that she had fully recovered, given how much she disliked Mei Lin. Yet, she hadn’t.
That night, the two women still slept in the same room.
In the depths of night, when everyone was asleep, Mei Lin painfully sat up in bed. She got to her feet and, gripping the dagger, walked towards Mu Ye Luomei’s bed.
“I know what you want… I’ll grant your wish,” she whispered to the person lying in bed. With these words, she suddenly raised the dagger and stabbed at the figure.
A muffled groan suggested the person had been stabbed. They abruptly leaped up from the bed, countering with a palm strike to Mei Lin’s chest.
When the people in the prince’s mansion were awakened by screams and rushed into the room, they found Mu Ye Luomei unconscious and covered in blood on the bed. Mei Lin lay collapsed on the floor in front of the bed, still clutching the bloodied dagger, no longer breathing.
When Murong Jinghe received news of Mu Ye Luomei’s stabbing and Mei Lin’s death, he had just defeated the remnants of Southern Yue and was galloping toward the Western Yan battlefield, his fighting spirit high and unstoppable.
Holding the note stating that Mei Lin had stabbed Mu Ye Luomei out of jealousy but failed and was killed instead, Murong Jinghe examined it back and forth under the light of a tallow lamp for a long time. He seemed unable to understand its meaning. Then, calmly, he called for his guards and ordered them to drag away and behead the messenger who had brought the news.
“What use is there in keeping someone who dares to bring such nonsense?” he said.
Fortunately, Qing Yan, who had been attending to him, found a way to intervene. However, when he saw the contents of the note Murong Jinghe had tossed to him, he was also stunned. His usually quick mind went blank, unable to process the information. He thought this matter was somewhat absurd, absurdly… laughable.
“Where’s Yue Qin? Why hasn’t he come?” Trying to shake off the feeling of bewildered unreality, Qing Yan looked at the pale-faced messenger kneeling on the ground.
“General Mu Ye, grateful for Miss Mei Lin’s life-saving kindness, allowed Yue Qin to take her body to Jingbei for burial, as per her last wishes,” the messenger replied, sweating profusely, afraid that one wrong answer would get him dragged out.
Qing Yan glanced at the expressionless Murong Jinghe, his mind unable to process the information. He waved his hand, dismissing the messenger.
The two men in the tent, one sitting and one standing, faced each other in silence. After a while, Qing Yan hesitantly asked, “My lord, do you want to return to the capital?”
Murong Jinghe rubbed his forehead, his gaze falling on the enemy’s military deployment map on the table before him. He said flatly, “You believe such nonsense? When have you ever seen that woman willingly cause trouble?” With these words, he focused his full attention on the map, also signaling the end of this topic.
Qing Yan looked at his profile in the lamplight, which seemed to have become increasingly cold and severe. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding.
Qing Yan’s premonition was confirmed.
The very next day, Murong Jinghe managed to breach a gap in Western Yan’s border city, which had been as impenetrable as an iron bucket. Then he issued the order to massacre the city.
Watching the man standing at the highest point in the city, coldly observing the scene of carnage in the inner city with a ruthless expression, Qing Yan knew he had to get him back to Zhaojing as soon as possible. Otherwise, Western Yan would become a scorched earth.
After much deliberation, he had no choice but to seek help from Mu Ye Luomei, who was still recovering from her injuries in the capital. Mu Ye Luomei then used the excuse of her severe injuries to successfully persuade Murong Jinghe to temporarily leave the battlefield.
However, to everyone’s surprise, Murong Jinghe suddenly changed course on his return journey, taking his guards and turning towards Jingbei.
He had ultimately believed that message.
By February, peach blossoms had turned red, apricot blossoms white, rapeseed flowers covered the ground, and willow leaves seemed to be cut from jade…
In Jingbei’s February, wildflowers were everywhere.
A horse carrying two people wandered through mountains and wilderness, treading on spring flowers that had blossomed brilliantly after an entire season of preparation. Sometimes the two rode together, sometimes the man led the horse while the woman lay prone on its back, and sometimes the man carried the woman on his back with the horse following leisurely behind…
She said she liked spring flowers, so he took her to see all the spring flowers in the world.
When they came across clear and lovely streams, the man would have the woman sit nearby, then take out his handkerchief, dampen it with water, and gently wipe the dirt from her face and hands before draping her in a silver-white robe.
“How come you don’t have any nice clothes? When we get to the city, I’ll buy you some new outfits,” he said softly as he smoothed her hair and tucked a sprig of forsythia with two small yellow flowers behind her ear.
He carried her on his back, walking slowly through a mountain full of wild pear trees. Above them, a vast expanse of glistening white petals, like scattered jade shavings, filled the sky and earth.
“Remember how you used to carry me like this? Now it’s my turn to carry you…” He paused, looking into the distance with nostalgia in his eyes, and smiled, “You were small but stubborn and difficult to carry. It was quite uncomfortable. Not like how steady and comfortable I am.” As he spoke, he adjusted her position on his back, trying to make her as comfortable as possible, afraid of causing her any discomfort.
After crossing the mountain, they came upon a field sprouting tender green shoots. Further away, a few households nestled among green trees, wisps of smoke rising from their chimneys.
He stood at the mountain peak for a while, not approaching the houses, but instead moving along the ridge.
“You know, I can sing too,” he said suddenly as they walked. “Much more interesting than your songs about peaches and apricots. Listen, I’ll sing for you.”
He paused to gather himself, then lifted his head and began to bellow at the drifting clouds in the vast mountain wilderness.
“With strength to uproot mountains, spirit to cover the world, But time is not on my side, and my steed will not go. If my steed will not go, what can be done? Oh, Yu… Bah, what a terrible song!” He didn’t finish, spitting in self-disgust.
He reached back to pat the woman’s head and said with a smile, “Don’t worry, I’m not that brute Xiang Yu, and you’re not the delicate Yu Ji. You’ve always been the one to leave me, but I’ll never leave you again.” These words were meant for himself.
Then he fell silent.
He sought out places where wildflowers bloomed profusely, walking day and night without stopping, riding on horseback or foot. One day, following a path lined with peach blossoms as brilliant as rosy clouds, they came to a small town. He carried her on his back into an inn. Anyone who tried to stop them was beaten black and blue, with blood flowing.
He ordered a table full of dishes. He tried to feed her, but couldn’t get her to eat, so he ordered porridge instead.
“Eat a little…” His movements as he spooned the porridge to feed her were clumsy but gentle, so gentle that the people hiding behind the restaurant and peeking from outside doubted whether this was the same man who had beaten them earlier.
The porridge entered the woman’s mouth but flowed out again from the corners, which had begun to fester, dripping onto her clothes. He hurriedly took out a handkerchief to wipe her dry, his expression somewhat melancholic.
“If you won’t eat, that’s fine. I’ll just keep you company. This small place doesn’t have anything good anyway. When we get back to the capital, I’ll have people prepare delicious food for you.” He stroked the woman’s hair, his eyes filled with doting affection. Then he crouched down to carry her on his back again. “I’ll take you to buy clothes…” As he spoke, he took out a string of silver coins from his pocket and tossed them on the table.
As they walked down the street, whenever he saw interesting things at the roadside stalls, he would buy them and offer them to the woman on his back. Although she never accepted them, he continued to do so tirelessly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever given you anything,” he said, turning his head, feeling regretful. He searched deep in his memories but couldn’t recall ever giving her anything, not even tenderness.
From now on, anything in this world that could be found, whatever she wanted, he would give it to her.
Passersby all kept their distance, and even the vendors ran away. No one came to collect the silver, but he didn’t mind. He continued to whisper to the woman while enthusiastically browsing the stalls and shops on both sides, looking for things she might like.
However, just as they were about to reach a clothing store, a group of people suddenly surged from the end of the previously empty street. They were carrying hoes and sickles, charging towards them with fierce determination, interspersed with cries and curses.
“Quickly, it’s him! Catch him…”
“Kill him… Everyone, kill this madman who stole a corpse…”
“Oh, heavens above… My poor son… My poor daughter…”
Only after kicking away several of them did he hear what they were saying. He froze for a moment, then suddenly turned and set the woman on his back down. He reached out to brush aside the hair covering the left corner of her forehead. After staring for a while, he anxiously pushed back the bangs on the right side as well.
He stood there, rigid as stone, and then suddenly threw his head back and laughed loudly, seemingly in extreme joy. But in an instant, his laughter turned into heart-wrenching sobs, filled with unbearable grief. The onlookers were left staring at each other in confusion and fear, no one dared to approach anymore, and even the shouts and cries dying down.
The blue-clad guard who had been following him silently made his way through the crowd and approached, draping a long robe over his shoulders.
(End of Chun Hua Yan – Chapter)