A clear stream meandered into the beautiful Little Moon Lake. Bamboo and willows swayed gently by the lakeside, with a faint night mist hovering over the water’s surface.
Jiang Ci’s spirits had lifted somewhat, and the pain in her abdomen had subsided. She walked leisurely along the bamboo path. Wei Zhao followed several steps behind, his pace extremely slow.
Suddenly, Jiang Ci turned around, walking backward while looking at Wei Zhao with a smile. “This place is quite similar to our Deng Family Village. It seems we came to the right place tonight.”
Wei Zhao said softly, “Mountain villages all over the world are more or less the same.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Jiang Ci replied, still walking backward. “The Red Maple Mountain in the capital is known for its historic sites; the mountains in Wen Prefecture are famous for their clear springs; Bull Nose Mountain can be described in one word: treacherous. The scenery of Deng Family Village and this place can only be described as beautiful. And then there’s your Yueluo—”
“What about Yueluo’s mountains?” Wei Zhao looked at her, his gaze intense. The moonlight, the bamboo forest, and this tranquil feeling gave him an indescribable sense of ease, but the person in front of him also made him want to run far away.
Jiang Ci smiled, “The landscape of Yueluo is like an ink painting. You can feel its charm, but you can’t quite describe what it looks like.”
Wei Zhao stopped in his tracks. Under the dark green bamboo, her smile was as radiant as flowers, as light as water. He felt as if he had returned to the peach garden—
“Third Lord, in your heart, you must think Yueluo is the most beautiful—” Jiang Ci continued speaking as she walked backward, but suddenly her foot hit a small stone. She stumbled two steps and fell backward.
Wei Zhao rushed forward, his right arm extending to wrap around her waist, swiftly pulling her up. In his urgency, he used a bit too much force, and Jiang Ci fell straight against his chest. His mind went blank for a moment, his heart aching, yet he was reluctant to let go of his hand around her waist.
Jiang Ci, her face flushed, looked up at his obsidian-like eyes and said softly, “Third Lord, there’s something I must tell you.”
Without waiting for Wei Zhao to respond, she continued gently, “I want to tell the Third Lord that regardless of the past or the future, I, Jiang Ci, am willing to share life and death, joys and sorrows with you. Please, please don’t leave me behind.”
She mustered up the courage to say these words, her voice trembling slightly. After speaking, she suddenly felt as if she had gone mad or become foolish: how could she say such bold words? But hadn’t these words been lingering in her heart for days? Hadn’t she wanted to tell him this ever since they held hands in the mountains that day? Now she had finally said it. She let out a soft sigh, suddenly feeling a sense of relief, and simply looked at him directly, her face still red.
The mountain was silent, with only the sound of clear water trickling over rocks and into the lake.
Wei Zhao was like a stone statue. He had never imagined that someone like him, covered in filth and burdened with sin, could still possess such a pure, lotus-like love. The innocence he had always dared not approach, only watching from afar, had somehow silently appeared before him.
If he were not Wei Zhao, but Xiao Wuxia, perhaps he would have already taken her hand and walked together. But if he were not Wei Zhao, how could he have met her?
Could it be that meeting her in the tree, and all the entanglements that followed, were predetermined by heaven?
He suddenly felt a bit of hatred towards heaven. Why did it have to make her appear before him? Why, after he had grown accustomed to the long darkness, did it give him a glimmer of hope for light?
The lake breeze blew, and Jiang Ci seemed to feel cold, shivering slightly. Wei Zhao instinctively held her tighter and called out, “Little Ci.”
Jiang Ci smiled faintly, “What did the Third Lord call me? I didn’t hear clearly.”
“Little… Ci.” Wei Zhao hesitated for a moment but still called out to her, just as he did when he took care of her every night.
Jiang Ci sighed contentedly, suddenly wrapping her arms around Wei Zhao’s neck and whispering in his ear, “It was you, wasn’t it?”
Her lips emitted an intoxicating breath. Wei Zhao flustered, turned his head slightly, and Jiang Ci’s soft lips brushed past his face. Both of them let out a startled “Ah.”
The long-restrained soul seemed about to break free from his body. Wei Zhao suddenly pushed Jiang Ci away, stumbling back several steps, his face instantly turning as pale as jade.
Jiang Ci’s heart panicked, and she rushed back to him, throwing herself into his arms and holding him tightly, as if afraid he would vanish with the wind.
Wei Zhao let out a groan like a lonely beast: “Let go—”
Jiang Ci felt as if these two words had crushed her heart. Seeing that he was about to say something more, she suddenly threw caution to the wind, stood on her tiptoes, and firmly pressed her lips against his—
Wei Zhao’s world spun, and he struggled to lift his head.
“Don’t leave me, please.” Her plea, interwoven with her kisses, was heartbreaking.
Wei Zhao could no longer resist. He slowly embraced her, lowering his head. But as their lips and teeth intertwined, his eyes gradually became moist.
He had only wanted to watch her smile from afar, to hear her sing from a distance. He had only wanted to hold her, warm her when she was in pain.
But in reality, it had always been her who gave him warmth, hadn’t it? She was a flickering light in the night, so faint yet so persistent, making him want to walk towards her, approach her, cherish her—
By Little Moon Lake, the bright moon shone, and all was quiet.
He had a faint, fresh scent, and his breath was warm with a hint of enchantment. As their kiss deepened, Jiang Ci couldn’t help but tremble, her breathing unsteady. She let out a soft moan and melted into Wei Zhao’s arms. Wei Zhao suddenly came to his senses, panting as he pushed her away. He staggered back a few steps, almost unable to stand steady.
“Third Lord.” Jiang Ci was dazed for a moment, then slowly approached.
Wei Zhao breathed heavily, his throat a bit hoarse: “Little Ci, I’m not worthy. I’m not a good person.”
“I won’t listen,” Jiang Ci shook her head as she came closer.
“I, before—I—” As Wei Zhao was about to speak again, Jiang Ci suddenly hugged him tightly from behind, saying softly, “I don’t care. You knocked me down from that tree back then, making it impossible for me to return home now. You have to take care of me for life.”
Wei Zhao tried to pry her hands away but couldn’t muster any strength. Jiang Ci’s somewhat weak voice came: “Besides if I hadn’t met you, how would I have gotten this illness? If I can never recover, you have to stay by my side.”
Wei Zhao’s heart clenched painfully. Thinking of her incurable illness, he finally turned around slowly and held her in his arms. Jiang Ci looked up at him, her voice carrying a hint of pleading: “You have to promise me.”
After a long struggle, Wei Zhao finally looked up at the bright moon in the sky and said softly, “Alright, I promise you—”
Jiang Ci sighed contentedly, hiding her head against his chest, unable to suppress a secret smile.
Seeing that it was getting late and worried about her health, Wei Zhao lowered his head and said, “You’re not feeling well. Let’s head back early.”
Jiang Ci’s cheeks were flushed like peach blossoms, both happy and a bit uneasy. She gripped Wei Zhao’s hand tightly, unwilling to let go. Wei Zhao had no choice but to lead her to sit by the lake. He sent his true qi into her body to check her condition and only relaxed when he knew there was no immediate danger.
“Little Ci,” he called out cautiously.
“Mm.”
“I—”
Fearing he might say something again, Jiang Ci suddenly took off her hat, undid her hair tie, and let her long hair fall over her shoulders. She then took out a small wooden comb and the jade hairpin from inside her clothes, looked at Wei Zhao, and said softly, “I want you to put this hairpin in my hair with your own hands.”
Wei Zhao remained silent. Jiang Ci held up the jade hairpin, staring at him intently: “You gave me this hairpin. If you don’t put it in my hair yourself, there’s no meaning in me wearing it. I might as well break it.”
Wei Zhao forced himself to say, “This hairpin is too ordinary. It’s fine if you break it. In the future, you’ll have better hairpins.”
Jiang Ci’s eyes blurred with tears. She sighed, “But I only like this one. What should I do? If it breaks, I don’t want to wear any other hairpin for the rest of my life.”
In the distance, a night bird began to sing. Jiang Ci listened to its call and said wistfully, “Listen, it’s calling for its companion. The night is so dark, how can it manage alone?”
Unable to resist, Wei Zhao took the wooden comb from her hand and gently combed her long hair. Jiang Ci was overjoyed. Even though his hands were somewhat clumsy and pulled at her scalp painfully, she held back any sound of discomfort.
“When I was little, my master combed my hair. After my master passed away, my senior sister did it for me. Now that my senior sister is no longer by my side, I’m glad to have the Third Lord comb my hair for me.”
“My hands are clumsy,” Wei Zhao put down the wooden comb, looking at the cloud-like black hair before him, somewhat at a loss. Jiang Ci turned back to look at his expression, smiled, and took her hair, twirling it a few times to form a lotus bun. She secured it with the hair tie and held the jade hairpin in front of Wei Zhao.
Seeing her hand holding the hairpin trembling slightly, Wei Zhao hesitated for a moment before finally taking it. His left hand cupped her slightly warm cheek, while his right hand gently inserted the hairpin into her bun.
Cloud-like hair, a beautiful face adorned with a jade hairpin, by Little Moon Lake, they were united—
Jiang Ci smiled contentedly, ran to the lakeside to take a look at her reflection, and then came back to sit down. “It looks very nice.”
Wei Zhao nodded, “Yes, it looks very nice.”
Jiang Ci pouted, “You’re just saying that. I’m teasing you. How can you see clearly at night?”
“It does look nice,” Wei Zhao insisted.
“Really?” She gazed into his shining eyes.
“Really,” he gazed back into her dark eyes.
The night wind grew stronger, carrying a bit of mist. Wei Zhao noticed Jiang Ci shivering slightly in her thin clothes. Worried about her health, he whispered in her ear, “Let’s go back first. Tomorrow, I’ll ask Ziming to prescribe some medicine for you. Whether it works or not, we should at least try.”
Jiang Ci nodded. Wei Zhao crouched down, and Jiang Ci smiled, lying on his back. His back was so warm that she closed her eyes contentedly.
With his white robes fluttering and the wind whistling past their ears, it wasn’t long before Wei Zhao, avoiding all the guards, lightly landed in the east courtyard of the prefect’s mansion. He set Jiang Ci down and turned around. Jiang Ci suddenly felt shy, her face burning. She only said, “Third Lord, rest early,” before hurrying out of the courtyard.
Wei Zhao watched her figure disappear at the doorway. His steps were a bit unsteady as he walked to the blue stone bench in the courtyard and sat down. Dew gradually crept up his feet. The night passed minute by minute, but he didn’t move an inch.