The Mid-Autumn Festival of the sixty-second year of Qingyuan was the coldest one in Great Wei’s history. The rain had been falling since morning, with dark clouds hanging low, showing no signs of stopping throughout the day.

On Lianxue Mountain, its chaotic peaks rose dramatically against one another. The rain created a thick mist, making the mountain paths treacherous.

A carriage slowly made its way along the mountain trail.

Despite the difficult terrain, Lianxue Mountain remained busy throughout the year due to a sacred temple called Yuhua. Yuhua Temple was extremely popular, as it was said that those who worshipped Buddha there would have their wishes granted. While this claim might be somewhat exaggerated, Yuhua Temple had indeed stood for over a century, making it a truly ancient monastery. During festivals and holidays, the nobles and officials from Shuo Capital would come here to pray and chant sutras, seeking blessings for their families’ health, happiness, and success.

The carriage curtain was lifted as Lady Bai Rongwei, the wife of the Xiao family’s eldest son, peered outside and said softly, “We’re almost there. It’s less than an incense stick’s burning time to Yuhua Temple.”

“Are you hungry?” Xiao Jing asked gently beside her.

Bai Rongwei shook her head, glancing back at the carriage following them with concern. “Huaijin…”

Xiao Jing let out a soft sigh without saying anything.

Everyone in the Xiao family knew that the Second Young Master Xiao disliked, even hated, the Mid-Autumn Festival.

That year, Xiao Zhongwu died in battle shortly before the Mid-Autumn Festival. Had he lived, he should have returned to celebrate the festival with his family. Unfortunately, before the festival arrived, he perished in the Battle of Mingshui. The Xiao family’s Mid-Autumn celebration preparations came to an abrupt halt midway.

And never resumed.

After the deaths of Master and Madam Xiao, Xiao Jue would leave Shuo Capital every Mid-Autumn Festival. This year was the first time he would spend the festival in Shuo Capital since taking command of the Southern Army. The Xiao family followed the tradition established during Madam Xiao’s lifetime of visiting Yuhua Temple on Lianxue Mountain to burn incense and pray for blessings during the Mid-Autumn Festival.

However, they hadn’t expected such terrible weather today, with no sun and endless rain.

As Bai Rongwei had predicted, they reached Yuhua Temple’s gate in less than an incense stick’s burning time. A monk wearing a bamboo hat was sweeping fallen leaves from the ground. Upon seeing the Xiao family’s carriages arrive, he set aside his broom to welcome them into the temple.

Due to the rain making the mountain paths difficult to traverse, the temple would normally be bustling by this time of day. Today, however, there was only one other carriage stopped outside the temple gate beside the Xiao family, belonging to some unknown lady or young miss.

Xiao Jue followed them inside.

The sky was so dark that although it was afternoon, it seemed like dusk. Following the temple monk’s lead, they first had their vegetarian meal before proceeding to the Buddha Hall to burn incense and pray.

Bai Rongwei and Xiao Jing entered first. When it was Xiao Jue’s turn, the monk in gray robes stopped him, saying, “Benefactor, you may not enter.”

Bai Rongwei and Xiao Jing turned around, and Bai Rongwei asked, “Why not? This is my brother, we came to pray together.”

The monk pressed his palms together in greeting her, then turned to Xiao Jue and said with lowered eyes, “Benefactor, your killing karma is too heavy. The Buddha Hall is a place of purity; we cannot allow entry to one whose heart is stained with bloodshed.”

Everyone froze.

Heavy killing karma indeed.

In the Battle of Changgu in Guo City, sixty thousand people drowned to death. And over the years, countless Southern barbarians had died by his hand – his heart was truly stained with blood.

“Master,” Bai Rongwei said anxiously, “Buddha saves all beings without discrimination of status or rank.”

“Though his hands are stained with blood, he has also saved many lives,” Xiao Jing frowned. “Master, your words are rather one-sided.”

The gray-robed monk kept his eyes lowered in silence.

“Please be more lenient, Master,” Bai Rongwei pleaded. “Our Xiao family is willing to donate more money for incense if you’ll just let my brother enter the Buddha Hall to pray.”

“No need,” a voice interrupted.

The young man in brocade robes raised his eyes to the Buddha Hall. Inside, the golden Buddha sat cross-legged, accompanied by fierce-looking Vajra deities and serene Mahavairocana Buddha. From high to low, from far to near, they gazed down at him with compassion.

The Buddhist chants drifted through the air. The sea of suffering was boundless, and Buddha could not save him.

He should have expected this outcome.

“He cannot save me,” Xiao Jue smiled. “Nor do I wish to turn back.”

Let him sink like this, it wasn’t so bad.

He turned to leave, saying, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Behind him came the calls of Bai Rongwei and Xiao Jing. He frowned impatiently and turned away, putting everything out of his mind.

He didn’t know that after he left, the gray-robed monk chanted Buddha’s name once and said softly, “Perhaps not without karma…”

The rain made the descent more treacherous than the ascent, and with the dark weather, it would be dangerous to go down the mountain after praying. They had no choice but to spend the night at Yuhua Temple.

Staying outside on Mid-Autumn night was unavoidable. After the monk arranged rooms for Bai Rongwei and the others, he withdrew. Bai Rongwei sighed, looking at the moon cakes specially made by Yuhua Temple on the table, and said to Xiao Jing, “Go call Huaijin, we’ll make do with our Mid-Autumn celebration here.”

Xiao Jing went to knock on the door of the adjacent room but received no response. When he pushed the door open, the room was empty.

Xiao Jue wasn’t there.

He looked out at the temple courtyard, where the rain had washed the stone slabs clean. In this rain, where could Xiao Jue have gone?

In the back courtyard of Yuhua Temple stood an ancient tree that had been there since the temple’s founding, living for hundreds of years. The ancient tree was considered spiritual, with luxuriant branches and leaves. Worshippers called it the “Immortal Tree.” Red silk ribbons covered the tree, some praying for success in the imperial examinations, others for happy marriages. The red ribbons completely covered the branches, and in the rain, without shelter, the wish ribbons were soaked and clung to the branches like a layer of red silk.

The young man holding an umbrella stopped.

A red ribbon had fallen to the ground, still adorned with yellow tassels. It must have been blown down by the heavy rain.

Xiao Jue paused, then bent down to pick up the red ribbon.

Each red ribbon bore the wish of the person who hung it. He looked down at it – the left side was soaked by rain, the ink blurred beyond recognition, but on the right side remained one legible character, written in childish scrawl as if by a three-year-old, spelling out “look.”

Look?

How strange. Being tall, he casually retied the odd red ribbon to the tree, deliberately choosing a spot among the densest leaves so it wouldn’t easily get wet from the rain.

After finishing this, he picked up his umbrella again. The movement caused the sachet at his waist to become exposed, and he froze.

The sachet was very old now, a dark blue pouch with a black python embroidered in gold thread, fierce and vivid, elegant and elaborate. But time had worn the stitching blur, and the python’s pattern was no longer as clear as before. The inside was flat, as if empty.

His fingertips brushed over the sachet, and something in his eyes sank.

The young men at Xianzhang Academy all knew that Xiao Jue had carried a sachet since childhood. The mischievous ones like Lin Shuanghe had always been curious about what treasure it contained. When they finally got the chance to snatch it and look inside, they found it full of osmanthus candy.

At the time, the Second Young Master Xiao was thoroughly teased for being such a sweet tooth that he needed to carry candy even to school.

Little did they know, this was made by Madam Xiao while she was alive.

After Madam Xiao’s death, he still carried this sachet, but it no longer bulged with candy. Instead, it contained just one… old, blackened, inedible piece of osmanthus candy.

Xiao Jue came down from the mountain at fifteen and entered Xianzhang Academy. Having learned everything necessary during his early years in the mountains, he could memorize the teachers’ lessons after just one reading. He often slept during breaks yet easily ranked first. The teachers loved him, his classmates envied him, and outsiders thought he must have accumulated immense merit in his previous life to be born so fortunate.

But Xiao Zhongwu was extremely strict with him.

He was naturally indolent. When he lived in the mountains, besides his teacher, no one supervised him, and Xiao Zhongwu couldn’t see him. After coming down the mountain, his classmates often invited him to wine parties today, and opera houses tomorrow – they were all fourteen or fifteen-year-old youths, so there was no reason not to go. Although most of the time, he just sat lazily to the side watching, or simply fell asleep, in Xiao Zhongwu’s eyes, this showed his son was content with degradation and idleness.

Xiao Zhongwu berated him, enforced family punishment, withheld his monthly allowance, and made him copy books and practice martial arts.

He did everything as told, but youth carries rebellion in its bones – how could he truly submit? The more calmly he accepted punishment, the more angry Xiao Zhongwu became, until finally, he argued with Xiao Zhongwu.

Xiao Jue raised his eyebrows: “I’ve done everything you asked. Since you only look at results, now you have them. Father, what are you still fussing about?”

The youth’s smile was mocking, and for a moment, Xiao Zhongwu’s hand gripping the whip could no longer strike. Xiao Jue gave a light laugh and turned to leave.

That was the last time he saw Xiao Zhongwu alive.

The next day, Xiao Zhongwu led troops to the Southern Barbarians, and soon after, died a brutal death in the Battle of Mingshui.

When news arrived of the coffin in the capital, Madam Xiao was in the kitchen making osmanthus candy for Xiao Jue. Upon hearing the news, she dropped the entire plate of candy, scattering them across the floor, covered in dust.

The surviving trusted subordinate knelt before Madam Xiao, crying: “We originally planned to cross Mingshui two days earlier, but the General said that Furuan near Mingshui was famous for its ironwork, and he wanted to forge a sword for the Second Young Master. After quarreling with the Second Young Master before departure, hurting his feelings, he hoped this sword would help him understand his father’s good intentions. Who could have known… who could have known…”

The room filled with Madam Xiao’s heart-wrenching sobs.

She rushed at him, striking Xiao Jue wildly, crying and cursing: “Why did you quarrel with him? Why! If you hadn’t quarreled with him, he wouldn’t have stayed longer at Mingshui, wouldn’t have fallen into the ambush, wouldn’t have died!”

He endured these terrible accusations, allowing the woman’s weak fists to fall upon him, saying nothing.

How could it be possible? His father, that stern and severe man who showed no mercy when wielding the whip. The man who left his young child in unfamiliar mountains, visiting only once a year, how could he die? He was cold and unfeeling, devoted to righteousness, how could he possibly die?

The terrible accusations continued.

“You killed him! You killed your father!”

He could bear it no longer and pushed his mother away: “I didn’t! It wasn’t me!”

The woman stumbled back, staring at him blankly. Unable to bear her look of despair, Xiao Jue turned and ran out.

He didn’t know where he should go, or whom he could talk to. He had only been back in Shuo Capital for a year since coming down from the mountain. In that year, he hadn’t even learned to recognize everyone in the Xiao household and hadn’t learned how to naturally interact with his family.

And now… this had happened.

When people are in extreme pain, they don’t shed tears. He didn’t feel the pain yet, only numbness. It was like hearing an impossible joke, and not knowing how to react. He only felt his feet were heavy, afraid to go forward, unable to face his mother’s desperate, grief-stricken eyes.

Many years later, Xiao Jue would wonder if everything that followed might have been different had he been less cowardly then, had he taken one step forward and returned to the room.

But there are no “what ifs.”

When he returned, it was already night. Xiao Jing and Bai Rongwei had returned, their eyes red and swollen from crying. The usually gentle and courteous Xiao Jing rushed forward and punched him, grabbing his collar, shouting with red eyes: “Where did you go? Why weren’t you at home? Why weren’t you by Mother’s side!”

He suddenly felt disgust and self-mockery, twisting his lips: “We’re both her sons. You ask me, why don’t you ask yourself?”

“You!”

“Huaijin,” Bai Rongwei sobbed, “Mother is gone.”

His smile froze.

“Mother… is gone.” Xiao Jing released his grip, stepping back two paces, covering his face as he choked with sobs.

Throughout her life, Madam Xiao had been as delicate as a flower that had never weathered a storm. When Xiao Zhongwu was alive, she had many complaints about him, arguing every few days, seeming like an ill-matched couple. When Xiao Zhongwu died, this flower suddenly withered, losing its nourishment, and followed him.

She left so decisively, not even considering how her two sons would manage in Shuo Capital after being abandoned. What would become of the Xiao family? Her life lost all meaning the moment she lost Xiao Zhongwu, so she used a piece of pure white silk to end her life.

Her last words to Xiao Jue were: “You killed him! You killed your father!”

These words would become an eternal nightmare, often waking Xiao Jue in the deep of night years later, leaving him tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

He could never escape it.

Xiao Zhongwu and Madam Xiao were buried together. The lanterns and banners prepared for the Mid-Autumn Festival were all taken down, and replaced with white lanterns.

When a wall falls, everyone pushes it. Xiao Zhongwu’s death brought far greater impacts to the Xiao family. Whatever open and hidden attacks Xiao Jing faced in court, Xiao Jue had to bear the same burden behind the scenes. Questions about the Southern Army, the Xiao family, and the alleged crimes of the Battle of Mingshui.

He still hadn’t shed a tear, mechanically handling affairs, making dense arrangements. His sleeping time grew shorter and shorter, and he returned home later and later.

That night, it was very late when Xiao Jue returned home. After Xiao Zhongwu’s death, many servants were dismissed. Besides his personal guard, he didn’t need attendants. Feeling hungry, he realized he hadn’t eaten all day.

It was too late to trouble Bai Rongwei, so Xiao Jue went to the kitchen himself to see if there were any leftover dishes from the day.

The stove was cold, and there was little food in the kitchen. Everyone had been too busy these days to think about eating. He found two steamed buns and a bowl of pickled vegetables.

The lamplight was so weak it seemed about to go out. There were no chairs in the kitchen, and the exhausted youth sat down in a corner against the wall, picking up the bowl. Suddenly, he glimpsed something at the end of the long table, in the corner of the wall – a piece of osmanthus candy.

When news of Xiao Zhongwu’s death in battle arrived, Madam Xiao had been making osmanthus candy for Xiao Jue. Upon hearing the news, she dropped the entire plate, and later the servants cleaned it all away.

Yet here was one that had escaped, lying quietly in the corner, covered in dust.

He crawled over, carefully picking up the candy, and brushing away the dust. The faint scent of osmanthus still lingered in the candy, as sickeningly sweet as ever.

Madam Xiao always made the osmanthus candy very sweet, cloyingly so. He hadn’t originally liked sweets.

But this would be the last piece of candy he would receive in this world.

There was still a candy wrapper left in the sachet. He wrapped the candy and put it back in the sachet. Then he picked up the bowl and the steamed bun.

The Second Young Master Xiao, once noble and precious, fastidious about cleanliness, now sat on the ground to eat without regard for propriety. His clothes hadn’t been changed for two days, and he hadn’t eaten a grain of rice. Gone was his former elegant appearance in fine silks and fox furs.

The youth sat against the wall, head tilted back, slowly biting the steamed bun. As he ate, he smiled self-mockingly, and in his autumn-water eyes appeared a glimmer of light, like the dying embers of starlight in the long night.

It vanished quickly.

Time flew by without leaving a trace. Past events seemed like memories from a previous life. Those complex emotions intertwined together, finally becoming just a careless smile at the corner of his lips.

It wasn’t an insurmountable obstacle after all.

He stared blankly at the sachet in his hand, lost in thought, then after a moment, let go and continued walking.

“Young Master.” Feipu came up from behind. He took the umbrella, holding it for Xiao Jue, and asked, “Shall we return to the temple now?”

“Let’s walk,” said Xiao Jue. “Get some air.”

The last light faded, and Lianxue Mountain fell into complete darkness. Thick fog spread, like an illusion in the mountains. On such a night, almost no one would be out walking.

Rain fell from the umbrella’s edge, not heavy but steady and dense, like a layer of cool gauze wrapping the mountain.

“Who knows when this rain will stop,” Feipu muttered.

Mid-Autumn nights were usually clear; such a night was rare indeed. Xiao Jue looked up at the pitch-black night, seeing no end to it.

He said, “There’s no moon tonight.”

No moon to shine on people’s reunion.

The mountain path was muddy and treacherous. Nothing could be heard except the rain. The further they walked toward the edge, the more dense the trees became, making it impossible to see people’s shadows. Suddenly, there came a rustling sound from ahead. Feipu paused, warning, “Young Master.”

Xiao Jue shook his head, indicating he had heard.

Who would be here so late, in the rain?

Feipu held the lantern forward to investigate. Through the deep rain, they saw a figure standing under a tree. At first, they could only make out a blurry shadow, probably a woman, doing something unclear. Taking two steps forward for a better look, they saw the woman standing on a stone, both hands pulling on something long, tugging it down.

Tied to the tree was a white silk cloth.

This was a woman seeking death.