If not for Manhu, perhaps Ruowen would never have taken a wife. Unexpectedly, in Ruowen’s life, his wife became the first woman he respected. He didn’t love her or cherish her, but he respected her.
His wife’s name was Rui, and she looked very much like Qingchun. Manhu had abducted her on her wedding day, solely for her appearance, to please Ruowen. Ruowen sat in a wide chair, disheveled after a night of pleasure, when he saw Rui in her bridal attire. He suddenly felt playful and laughed, “I wake up and find a new bride. Why don’t I play the groom as well?”
Rui spat at him, but Ruowen’s expression didn’t change. He calmly said, “You dare spit at me. You’ve got some courage!”
Rui gritted her teeth, “If you’re going to kill me, do it quickly.”
Ruowen suddenly laughed loudly, “Little girl, we don’t kill women, especially beautiful ones!”
Seeing his evil expression and undisguised roguishness, Rui suddenly understood her situation. She remained silent, waiting for her fate. However, for her, that fate was unbearable pain. Ruowen, egged on by his brothers, playfully married her, performed the three bows with her, shared the nuptial cup, and finally, amidst vulgar cheers, “consummated” the marriage in public.
The seventeen-year-old virgin Rui endured Ruowen’s torment without a sound, biting her teeth to pieces, and refusing his kisses.
However, just ten days after taking a wife, Ruowen began to tire of her. In his bed, Rui never showed any reaction, which left him unsatisfied, forcing him to call other women for company, while Rui curled up to the side, staring at the wall or the window.
Later, after an unknown period, Wolf Head surrounded a group of nomads and quickly sent back news. It was the dead of winter, and they needed more supplies. So Ruowen led everyone out, and within half a day, they returned fully loaded.
The spoils were piled like a small mountain in the center of the great hall. The bandits’ weapons still reeked of blood, and the captured women were all tied up naked to the side, waiting to be chosen. At dusk, Ruowen ordered the arena fights to begin. Chengxiang divided the spoils into three parts: one directly for Ruowen, one for reserves, and the rest to be won through fighting.
Among the spoils was a long golden brocade sash embroidered with the sun and moon, intricately made with gold thread. Manhu was particularly excited upon seeing it, saying, “Wearing the sun and moon is a good omen.” So he wrapped it around Ruowen’s waist, much to Ruowen’s delight. The front hall was always chaotic after the fights, but surprisingly, that night, a woman was standing at the door, coldly observing.
It was Rui.
She smirked for the first time, and Ruowen, sitting in his large chair, looked at her across the debauched hall. Strangely, he stood up and walked towards her.
Rui was never afraid of him. But when she saw the brocade sash around his waist, her face suddenly turned pale. She grabbed the end of the sash and asked him directly, “Did you kill them all?”
Ruowen replied, “All of them!”
She asked again, “Not one left?”
Ruowen said, “Except for a few women!”
She staggered back a few steps, still clutching the sash tightly. Ruowen immediately realized, as was often the case, that it must have been her people who were killed. Just a few hundred, nothing unusual.
Ruowen’s face remained expressionless as he watched her sway, feeling excited all over. He suddenly picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. When there was a bed available, he never sought pleasure elsewhere.
At dawn, Rui fashioned a gun and hid it under the bed. At sunset, she attempted to assassinate Ruowen but failed, only leaving him with a scar. Rui, about nineteen years old, not even half a year into her new marriage, found no joy in intimacy and felt unworthy to live. On the bed, she gouged out her own eyes, vowing never to see her enemy’s face again.
Ruowen did something unexpected: he gave Rui his surname. All the bandits were shocked. The great desert bandit leader took a disfigured blind woman as his wife and didn’t take another wife for three years. Seasons came and went, three years with one assassination attempt. Rui never succeeded in killing Ruowen. She fell into depression and illness, tormented by pain, trapped in her cocoon. Finally, Ruowen ended her suffering with a shot through her chest.
In his life, Ruowen had killed countless people, with innumerable souls perishing under his hand. When hungry, he took others’ food; when cold, he took others’ clothes. He indulged in lust, destroyed in anger, reveled in wealth, and risked his life in danger. Ruowen couldn’t find truth in such a life, but he found answers – answers that allowed him to continue surviving, answers that allowed him to fight for himself!
His knife killed his father; his sword buried his mother; his gun took his wife.
His life, attached to his heart, never wavered. He didn’t think this was cruel. On the contrary, he had indescribable feelings for those who died by his hand.
It wasn’t until after Ruowen turned twenty-five that he met Huang Beishuang. At first, he just thought she was beautiful, and of course, somewhat clever. However, that kind of beauty and intelligence seemed far beyond his grasp. Yan Lanfei asked Ge Xinwei, he had plenty of women, but when it came to physical pleasure, he didn’t feel particularly hungry. But if he no longer hungered for women, then what could make him pursue to the bitter end without regret?
Huang Beishuang was like a fuse, burning as she rushed towards him. Every encounter with her became a kind of brilliance.
He remembered that the oasis was indeed very small when Ruowen and Huang Beishuang first escaped to the ravine, seeking shelter from the wind. The crowd on the small oasis was chaotic and uneasy, but the howling wind and sand outside suppressed everything. The refugees huddled together in a circle. Ruowen sat apart from the refugee group, his back to the fiercest direction of the dust storm, holding Huang Beishuang in his arms. In his embrace, there was no wind or sand, only the rise and fall of heartbeats, his dark purple eyes still alertly scanning the surroundings.
“It’s just a small sandstorm, it will pass quickly,” Ruowen said carelessly after a moment, his eyes fixed on her. She was pale and overwhelmed with worry. She lifted her head slightly, her eyes flickering as if she wanted to speak, but Ruowen pressed a finger to her lips. He leaned his face down a bit, his voice low and hoarse, “Don’t speak, you’ll eat sand!” Then he kissed her fiercely, without restraint. He knew she never dared to refuse his kisses; futile resistance would only backfire. She might not understand everything about him, but at least she understood his dominance. As long as he didn’t demand more, she would always choose self-preservation.
Ruowen didn’t know how long the storm lasted; his entire body was focused on feeling the fragrant woman in his arms. Later, when the storm grew stronger, he simply lay down with her, pressing her beneath him for a long time, until the sand buried them both. Only then did he realize the howling around his ears had stopped at some point. Like a jerboa in the sand, he suddenly popped his head out from under the sand. Dust was flying, and fine yellow sand was falling from his clothes in streams. He looked around, then lowered his head, satisfied that not a grain of dust had touched her face. She was still pristine, her cold eyes slightly squinting, readjusting to the bright light.
“Get off me!” she finally snapped in annoyance after a moment.
But Ruowen just laughed, deliberately staying on top of her, not moving an inch.
A man should press down on his woman…
Seeing that he wouldn’t move and that she couldn’t resist, Huang Beishuang turned her face away and coldly replied, “Fine, fine, don’t get up then. Let this yellow sand mound be your grave, and from here you can enter the yellow springs!”
Ruowen’s breathing was heavy. He refused to get up but faced with Huang Beishuang’s venomous words, he found it amusing.
“You know, I like you like this!” he said as he caressed her face, nose, eyes, mouth, brows… Her expression, in his eyes, was always vivid, like the only splash of bright red in a world of yellow earth.
“Huang Beishuang! Huang Beishuang!” He stared into her eyes, speaking to her word by word: “I won’t be lonely in the netherworld, but on the road to the yellow springs, I must have your exquisite body to accompany me! Stay with me, for this lifetime…”
This was Ruowen’s first and last time murmuring as if begging for salvation!
But fate never has a universal solution; everywhere there are riddles. What cannot be grasped, what cannot be satisfied, what cannot be obtained, for Ruowen, perhaps it had always been just one woman!
A woman who belonged to another, who couldn’t be stolen, couldn’t be obtained, and also…
Couldn’t be destroyed…
Knife!
The moon blade’s cold light,
Turbid wine stained with blood.
Gun!
The red tassel’s bloody waves,
What delicate body to accompany?
Sword!
Energy surging over desolate beaches,
Chaotic graves reaching to the celestial mountains.
I am evil!
Three weapons enter fate,
Who decides life and death?
You are evil!
Red makeup and fresh clothes,
Luring souls into obsession.
Oh, evil!
Wishing to share gold and silver,
But gold and silver do not come;
Wishing to share fine food,
But fine food does not arrive.
Knife, gun, sword, ringing without cease,
Wishing to share the bed,
One sleep, ten thousand years of ice!
Why ask?
Just say this life is done,
Tomorrow, still a smile!
— THE END —