Jiang Ci, dragged by Pei Yan to the forest edge near the cliff, watched as Yao Dingbang ultimately fell to Pei Yan’s sword. She saw the masked men in black continually falling in their attempt to save him. Suddenly, she felt dizzy. Had she truly made the right choice? For the first time in her life, someone had died because of her. Although it was for self-preservation, and the man was indeed heinously evil, could her conscience bear the weight of this enormous lie she had told? Even if she obtained the antidote and returned to Deng Family Village, would she find peace?
Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed the black sphere flying towards her until it was too late to dodge. She could only watch as Pei Yan shot towards her like an arrow released from a bow, catching the black sphere and hurling it over the cliff. But she also saw the dying black-clad man’s final, desperate thrust, his sword glinting coldly as it pierced Pei Yan’s left ribs.
In that instant, she lost all sense of where she was, feeling as if she were floating in mid-air or sinking into a dark valley. Through her fear and confusion, she saw blood spilling from Pei Yan’s mouth. He seemed to strike the black-clad leader, smashing his face beyond recognition. Then he appeared to stumble, his eyes fixed directly on her as he fell towards her.
Jiang Ci numbly extended her arms to support Pei Yan. She heard several explosions, followed by the angry shouts of An Chen and the others, amidst a sky full of flames and the scent of sulfur. Not daring to pull out the sword from Pei Yan’s side, she fought to control her trembling hands and pressed the acupoints near his wound. Gritting her teeth, she lifted him onto her back and ran back with all her might.
In her dazed state, she didn’t know which direction led to Changfeng Manor. It wasn’t until An Chen, his clothes scorched black, caught up and took Pei Yan from her that she regained some clarity. She forced her weakened legs to move, following behind An Chen and the others as they hurried back to Changfeng Manor.
Across the cliff, on another precipice, a figure sat askew on a tree branch amidst the wind-tossed pines. Watching everything unfold on the opposite cliff, a smile gradually spread across his lips. “Ah, Young Lord, I find you increasingly difficult to understand!”
At the entrance of Changfeng Manor, the martial arts competition was in full swing when An Chen and the others returned, carrying the wounded and unconscious Pei Yan. The gathered heroes were shocked.
An Chen and his group rushed into the manor, while Hui Lu and the others questioned the disciples who had gone to investigate. They learned that by the time everyone had arrived, Yao Dingbang had already died by Su Yan’s sword, but Su Yan had been knocked off the cliff by Yao Dingbang’s subordinates. Manor Lord Pei, in an attempt to quell the fight, had been ambushed and wounded by Yao Dingbang’s men. As for Yao Dingbang’s subordinates, they had deployed the Liu Sha Sect’s unique weapon, the “Sulfur Fireball,” resulting in their demise along with over ten Changfeng guards, leaving a scene of carnage.
This turn of events was entirely unexpected for Hui Lu and the others. Not only was the fate of Su Yan, a participant in the trials, unknown, but now the imperial representative, Minister Pei, was also injured. As they urgently discussed the situation, Manager Cen Wu came out to relay a message. He said that Minister Pei had briefly regained consciousness after entering the manor and instructed that the martial arts gathering should proceed as planned, without any delays due to his injury. Only then did Hui Lu ascend the platform to announce the continuation of the martial arts gathering.
Jiang Ci closely followed An Chen and the others back to the main courtyard’s “Biwu Grass Hall,” where they laid Pei Yan on the bed. His face was pale, his eyes tightly shut.
An Chen, a battle-hardened veteran with years of military experience, was well-versed in treating sword wounds. He pushed Jiang Ci aside, saying coldly, “Get out!” Then he called, “Tong Min, come here!”
The Changfeng guards, including Tong Min, gathered around. Jiang Ci was pushed to the side, her legs weak. She watched numbly as everyone surrounded Pei Yan, hearing An Chen give orders to prepare to remove the sword and apply medicine. She stumbled out of the room and into the courtyard, where her knees gave way, and she fell into the snow, covering her face as she wept.
Her mind was blank, yet she could hear An Chen’s commands of “Press,” “Pull,” and “Release” coming from inside. The snow gradually soaked through her clothes, but she remained oblivious.
After an unknown length of time, she heard the creaking sound of a door opening. Jiang Ci suddenly looked up, quickly trying to stand, but her legs, numb from kneeling in the snow for so long, caused her to fall back down.
She struggled to her feet as An Chen emerged from the room. He glanced at her askance and called out, “Xiao Liu!”
A Changfeng guard approached, and An Chen instructed, “Have Manager Cen prepare the medicine according to the old recipe and bring it here.”
As Xiao Liu left to carry out the order, Jiang Ci limped closer. An Chen turned and, seeing her pleading gaze, hesitated for a moment before saying coldly, “The Minister is blessed with good fortune. His life is not in danger. You just stay put and behave yourself.”
Overjoyed, Jiang Ci rushed forward a few steps. “The Minister, he—” An Chen, no longer looking at her, turned and went back inside, closing the door.
Jiang Ci felt a wave of relief wash over her. Suddenly, the snow-covered courtyard didn’t seem so blindingly bright, nor did the cold wind feel so biting. She slowly walked to the window, which was tightly shut, preventing her from seeing inside. She leaned against the window frame, and a surge of warmth rose in her chest as tears streamed down her face.
As the cold wind grew fiercer, Jiang Ci stood by the window for a long time before finally turning and walking towards the kitchen. She selected some high-quality white lotus seeds, dried scallops, and water chestnuts, adding them to a pot with washed tribute rice and water. After covering the pot, she went to the stove and slowly sat down on a bamboo stool.
Watching the flames dancing in the stove, she pressed her hand against her rapidly beating heart. Her hand felt as cold as snow, yet her chest seemed to burn with leaping flames.
In the stove, a burning bamboo strip suddenly cracked. The “pop” startled Jiang Ci, and she quickly jumped up to stir the porridge a few times before sitting back down on the stool. She remained silent for a long while. The fire before her eyes seemed to invade her heart as if it would burn her to ashes, but the snow-dampened spot on her chest slowly gave rise to a layer of mist, blurring her vision.
The interplay of fierce flames and misty haze before her eyes caused Jiang Ci’s heart to alternate between bitterness, confusion, joy, and hidden pain. She buried her head between her knees, her voice trembling as she murmured, “Master, what should I do?”
By the time the porridge was ready, dusk had fallen, and snowflakes were drifting down once again. Jiang Ci carried the porridge from the kitchen, shivering as the cold wind struck her. She took a deep breath and stood for a moment in front of the east wing’s door before gently pushing it open.
An Chen was keeping watch by the bed. Seeing Jiang Ci enter with the porridge, he leaned down and softly called near Pei Yan’s ear, “Minister!”
Pei Yan stirred slightly, and after a moment, opened his eyes. His usually bright eyes now seemed somewhat hazy. Jiang Ci dared not look at him and turned her face away. She heard An Chen seemingly helping Pei Yan sit up, and then slowly approached the bedside. Lowering her gaze, she saw a dark red stain on the outer robe by the bed. The sight of the blood pained her eyes, and the porridge bowl in her hands trembled slightly.
Pei Yan squinted at Jiang Ci, then coughed lightly. Startled, Jiang Ci scooped up some porridge with a jade spoon and gently brought it to Pei Yan’s lips.
After a few mouthfuls, Pei Yan, breathing heavily, said, “An Chen, you may leave for now.”
Jiang Ci’s hand shook, causing the jade spoon to clatter against the bowl’s edge. She heard An Chen close the door behind him and lowered her head, struggling to hold back a sob. At that moment, she desperately wanted to look up and carefully study the man before her, yet she also wanted to run away, far from Changfeng Manor.
Pei Yan leaned back against the pillow, closing his eyes for a moment before saying softly, “Listen carefully. I need to go to Bao Qing Spring to heal my wounds. You will prepare meals and bring them to me every day. The rest of the time, you are to stay put here and go nowhere else. Whether I release you or not will be decided after I’ve recovered.”
Jiang Ci was stunned for a moment but continued to bring the porridge to Pei Yan’s mouth. She opened her mouth several times but ultimately said nothing.
The heavy snow continued for several more days before the sky finally cleared completely. The martial arts gathering had also reached its conclusion. Liu Feng, the Sect Leader of Cang Mountain Sect, emerged victorious and was honored as the new Martial Arts Alliance Leader. Eight individuals were selected for the Council Hall: Broken Emotion from the Emei Sect, Nan Gong Jue, Yuan Fang, Feng Yun Yao, the Cheng sisters, Song Hong Qiu from the Shaolin Sect, Zhang You from the Purple Extreme Sect, and Wang Jing Zhi, the Sect Leader of Nanhua Mountain.
As the selection of candidates was finalized, after discussions among various factions, it was temporarily decided to build the Council Hall and Alliance Leader’s Pavilion on Cang Mountain. The Cang Mountain Sect would fund the construction. If a new Alliance Leader was chosen after four years, they would then decide where to build a new Alliance Leader’s Pavilion.
Three days after all matters were settled, the assembled heroes heard that Pavilion Master Pei’s sword wound was extremely severe, and he remained in a coma. They could only express their concern to An Chen and others before bidding farewell and departing one after another.
Heavy snow sealed the mountain, making Jiang Ci’s daily trip to deliver meals up the mountain extremely difficult. To prevent slipping, she wrapped her boot soles with dry grass and tied the food box to her waist with silk ribbons. Using her qinggong, she managed to deliver the food to Bao Qing Spring before it cooled.
Bao Qing Spring not only remained steaming hot in this harsh winter but also had remarkable healing effects. Combined with Chang Feng Manor’s wound medicine, Pei Yan improved day by day, and his complexion was no longer pale. An Chen had already ordered people to refurnish the thatched cottage and light charcoal fires. Pei Yan would soak in Bao Qing Spring every few hours, and spend the rest of his time sitting quietly in the cottage, cultivating his qi to heal.
Jiang Ci delivered meals and tonics to the cottage on time. Pei Yan didn’t speak to her, his gaze cold, always with an indescribable, unclear meaning. Jiang Ci would just stand silently to the side, wait for him to finish, clean up the bowls and chopsticks, and quietly descend the mountain.
When Pei Yan went to Bao Qing Spring, the “Bi Wu Grass Hall” was empty. Jiang Ci lived alone in this large courtyard, looking at the snow-covered yard and the gray sky above, feeling more lost and helpless with each passing day, tossing and turning each night.
One night, the howling winter wind woke Jiang Ci. She put on clothes and got out of bed, leaning by the window, staring blankly at the snow-lit courtyard.
The snowy night was quiet, with the candlelight from the corridor reflecting a hazy yellow on the snow. An unfamiliar emotion slowly spread in Jiang Ci’s heart, making her want to run up the mountain to that thatched cottage, to see those smiling eyes, even if it meant being bullied by him. But another sadness and fear quietly surged within this impulse, making her shiver uncontrollably.
The falling Su Yan, Yao Dingbang collapsing from a sword wound, the black-clothed leader whose face was disfigured by Pei Yan’s palm strike, the sky full of flames, and Pei Yan’s gaze at her before he fell, along with Wei Zhao’s ice-cold words – all of these flashed before Jiang Ci’s eyes at this moment.
What exactly was going on? What truth was hidden behind all these events? What were these people’s true faces? What was real? What was fake? What role did her one lie play in all of this?
Most importantly, why did he, the one who only bullied her and had a cold, heartless heart, get injured to save her? What was the truth behind this? And why did her chest ache unbearably every time she saw or thought of him, yet within that ache, why was there a thread of joy?
Jiang Ci felt her shoulders growing cold. She pulled her fox fur coat tighter and looked towards the distant night sky, a bitter smile gradually appearing on her lips.
The thawing snow made the days even colder, and the mountain path more slippery. Despite her excellent qinggong, Jiang Ci still slipped and fell on a steep part of the path that day. Looking at her fox fur coat stained with muddy water, she felt a pang of regret. Fortunately, she had supported herself with her right hand when falling, preventing the food box at her waist from spilling.
When she reached the thatched cottage, Pei Yan had just come out of Bao Qing Spring. Jiang Ci saw that he was only wearing a brocade robe, seemingly with nothing underneath. He entered the cottage with a warm breeze, making her heart race suddenly. She turned her head away.
Pei Yan’s lips curled slightly as he sat down at the table and said coolly, “Set it out.”
Jiang Ci didn’t dare look at him. She turned her face to the other side, fumbling to open the food box, taking out the dishes, and then groping to hand the jade chopsticks to Pei Yan.
Pei Yan looked at the jade chopsticks far from him and loosened his brocade robe a bit more, his smile deepening. “Is there anyone else here?”
Jiang Ci turned her head to look, her face instantly turning red. The jade chopsticks in her hand slipped, falling onto the table.
Pei Yan shook his head, picked up the chopsticks, and ate quietly. Seeing Jiang Ci still with her back to him, he noticed several mud stains visible on the hem of her fox fur coat. Her hands hanging by her sides were trembling slightly, with visible scrape marks on her right palm. He frowned slightly and said coldly, “Come sit down!”
Jiang Ci felt flustered, feeling bitterness and sweetness intertwining in her blood and meridians, desire and fear surging wildly. She slowly walked to the table and sat down, raising her eyes to look at Pei Yan.
Pei Yan gazed at her silently, his dark eyes showing no trace of emotion, only a hint of inquiry and contemplation. Jiang Ci couldn’t bear his gaze and slowly lowered her head, only to find herself looking at Pei Yan’s chest. His brocade robe was slightly loose, revealing his bare chest, still flushed from the hot spring. She felt her cheeks burning and suddenly stood up, rushing out of the cottage.
Pei Yan moved slightly, then slowly sat back in his chair. He touched the wound at his waist, watching Jiang Ci’s retreating figure, his gaze flickering as he slowly leaned back in the chair.
Footsteps sounded, and An Chen called from outside the cottage, “My Lord!”
“Come in.”
An Chen entered carrying a stack of confidential reports. He picked up the topmost letter and bowed, approaching, “My Lord, a letter from Young Master Cui.”
Pei Yan reached out to take it, pulled it out, and read it carefully. After a long while, he frowned slightly and said softly, “So, it was him.” He stood up, and An Chen hurriedly helped him put on a fur cloak. Pei Yan stepped out of the cottage, gazing at the misty Bao Qing Spring, then at the snow-covered mountains. Suddenly, he said, “An Chen.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
“Do you remember that year when we fought bloody battles on Qilin Mountain, defending the pass and killing tens of thousands of enemies?”
An Chen smiled slightly, “I’m afraid none of the Chang Feng Cavalry brothers would forget that.”
Pei Yan clasped his hands behind his back, looking at the thick clouds in the sky, and sighed lightly, “I just hope Jian Yu can make it through next spring. Now, we can only rely on him to hold on.”
After only a few days of clear weather, it started snowing again, blanketing everything in pristine white. As Jiang Ci passed by a bronze mirror that day, she stopped, gazing long at the unfamiliar self-reflected in the mirror, finally making up her mind.
She carefully prepared dinner and trudged through the snow up to Bao Qing Spring. As night fell, the mountain became quiet. The eternal lamps by Bao Qing Spring cast a dim glow, making Jiang Ci feel as if she had stepped into a hazy, ethereal dream, yet she had to wake up and escape from this immensely alluring beautiful dream.
Pei Yan was lying in the cottage reading confidential reports. Seeing her enter, he smiled and put down the report, “Why so late today?”
Seeing his extremely pleasant smile, Jiang Ci felt inexplicably afraid. She tried to calm herself and stood quietly to the side. After Pei Yan finished his dinner and the reports, she helped him wash up. After hesitating for a while, just as she was about to speak, Pei Yan, lying on the couch, suddenly patted the space beside him, “Come here.”
Jiang Ci lowered her head for a moment, then bit her lip, raised her head, calmly walked to Pei Yan’s side, and sat down. She looked steadily into his bright black eyes and said softly, “My Lord, I have something to say to you.”
Pei Yan smiled, “What a coincidence.” He paused, then said languidly, “Go ahead, I’m listening.”
Ignoring her rapidly beating heart, Jiang Ci spoke quickly, “My Lord, your wound has healed well, and I’ve helped you recognize people. I’m clumsy and will only cause trouble if I stay by your side. I’m of no use, so why don’t you—”
Pei Yan sneered, suddenly reaching out his right hand to cup Jiang Ci’s chin, pulling her towards him. He coldly whispered in her ear, “You want the antidote, you want to leave, right?”
Jiang Ci tried to turn her face away, but Pei Yan held her jaw firmly. She could only look directly into his eyes, which held a hint of anger and slowly said, “Yes, My Lord. I’m not originally from your mansion. Please be merciful and let this commoner go.”
Pei Yan looked at the delicate face before him, as white as jade, with rouge-red lips and black pupils. The innocence and clarity in those pupils made his anger grow. Jiang Ci began to feel afraid and moved her body back a bit, but Pei Yan reached into his robe, took out a porcelain bottle, poured a pill into his palm, and lightly tossed it, smiling, “You want the antidote, right? It’s not difficult.”
He picked up the pill, slowly brought it to his mouth, smiled at Jiang Ci, and said softly, “The antidote, you’ll have to come and get it yourself.” Saying this, he put the pill in his mouth, holding it lightly between his teeth.
Jiang Ci’s mind exploded, her whole body’s blood rushing upwards. She felt both angry and ashamed, suddenly standing up and turning to run. After just two steps, she felt pain in her knee as the porcelain bottle thrown by Pei Yan hit her, causing her to fall to one knee.
Pei Yan reached out and pulled her onto the couch. In a dizzying moment, Jiang Ci found herself pinned beneath him. In her panic, she pushed out with both hands, but Pei Yan grasped her wrists. Jiang Ci felt a sharp pain in her wrists and cried out “Ah,” opening her mouth. Pei Yan’s warm lips immediately descended upon hers.
It was a warmth mixed with coolness, the coolness from those warm lips continuously flowing into Jiang Ci’s body. The coolness of the pill descended from her throat into her viscera. In her daze, she looked at the face before her, those handsome features seeming to hold a hint of pity. Her heart seemed to float in mid-air, swaying gently, feeling that pity, and slowly closing her eyes.
Outside the thatched cottage, the north wind howled. Inside, the charcoal fire danced. Jiang Ci seemed to have fallen into a beautiful dream, a dream with sweetness, sourness, happiness, and pain, but more than anything, doubt and unease.
Pei Yan’s lips lingered on hers, then kissed her eyes and brows heavily. His right hand, carrying the unique scent of the spring water, slowly caressed her cheek, then traced down along her face, gently brushing her neck, and her chest, gently undoing her clothes.
In the charcoal stove, a spark exploded. Jiang Ci suddenly awoke, the scene on the cliff that day suddenly reappearing before her eyes. The sweetness and happiness faded, and fear and unease rushed into her mind. She abruptly pushed Pei Yan away, her clothes in disarray, jumped to the ground, and rushed towards the cottage door.
Pei Yan’s expression changed slightly. In a flash, he moved, and Jiang Ci ran straight into his chest. Pei Yan held her tightly in his arms and lowered his head to look at her panicked eyes, the last trace of pity disappearing from his face. He picked up Jiang Ci forcefully, threw her onto the couch, and pressed down on her heavily. He coldly said in her ear, “Where do you think you’re running to?” His right hand exerted force, and with a “rip,” Jiang Ci’s outer robe was torn off by him.