His propped elbow slowly tilted down, and Gong Yin’s usually straight back actually became crooked.

Jing Hengbo had been standing under the eaves in the rain all along, looking up at the sky. She couldn’t see through heaven’s will, and the path ahead was shrouded in misty drizzle. This early summer night actually revealed a desolate coolness. She hugged her arms tightly, her heart slightly aching and slightly intoxicated, as if she too had drunk those six cups of wine. The wine’s effect was so lingering and strong, burning hot as if about to rush into her eyes.

Many truths had already been learned through long pursuit and indirect understanding, but only today did she personally hear from his mouth those inner thoughts that belonged to him. Just as before today, he too was hearing for the first time the resentment in her heart.

Originally a loving couple, yet they could never sit calmly face to face and lay bare their countless thoughts. In the end, one spoke to a friend, one to a solitary lamp, both thinking the other wasn’t there, both able to pour out their hearts, both heard by the other, yet neither could respond. They let this night rain in the martial world dissolve the past, clear wine and lone lamp burn to ashes.

After a long while, seeing that person truly too drunk to rise, Jing Hengbo took a breath and slowly walked in.

The room was thick with wine smell. Gong Yin supported his forehead with his elbow, motionless. He too carried wine scent, mixed with his own clear fragrance, making one feel slightly cool and desolate.

As Jing Hengbo passed by him, he remained completely still. Even if not fully drunk, he must be quite intoxicated.

His sleeve hung down, something in his sleeve pouch wasn’t properly secured, ready to fall but not quite falling. Jing Hengbo very deftly plucked it, and the item was in her hand.

It was a wooden necklace with a very peculiar color—deep black with faint bright yellow, extremely smooth and delicate like clear jade. Looking carefully, it wasn’t paint but the wood’s natural color, which was very rare. The wood itself had a faint fragrance, very special, making one’s spirit refreshed upon smelling it. At a glance one could tell it was excellent wood.

But the carving was quite ordinary, couldn’t even tell what the string depicted. There seemed to be birds, beasts, little feet, human faces, but it excelled in exaggerated styling and interesting shapes, with a simple, special cuteness. She almost immediately fell in love with it.

She had just seen similar necklaces at roadside peddler stalls, but they were in large bundles in baskets, all dampened by rain, with no one interested in selecting them. And those hanging at peddler stalls weren’t as good as this one, which must have been carefully chosen.

No need to ask—this was something Gong Yin bought for her.

Jing Hengbo held that wooden necklace, imagining him alone in the rainy marketplace, slowly selecting ornaments for her. Above his head an oil-paper umbrella dripping with rain, wind-blown red lanterns spinning chaotically, dyeing his pale face rosy. Others were secretly laughing, but he was very serious.

That was a gift chosen with love, every texture shining with gentle light. Yet such tenderness remained deeply hidden in his sleeve, perhaps forever not intending to give it out.

This lifetime’s earthly fireworks, human happiness—she still couldn’t taste them together with him.

Jing Hengbo quietly tucked the necklace back into his sleeve, very gently, very gently.

She slowly sighed, deciding to forgive him another one-tenth for that bottle incident.

Just one-tenth, no more.

Sitting across from him, she slowly poured a bowl of wine. Of course she wouldn’t drink it—earlier when drinking with Meng Potian, that wine had mostly spilled on her collar.

Dabbing wine on her lips, she too smelled like a drunkard.

Once there was movement here, Gong Yin slowly raised his head. His hair was slightly disheveled, temples slightly loose, collar somewhat tilted. Compared to his usual meticulous, ice-pure demeanor, this moment of post-drinking decadence actually produced an enchanting sensual quality.

He seemed to have noticed Jing Hengbo’s presence and wasn’t very surprised. His eyes held a slightly bitter taste as he pressed his hand on the table, rising to leave.

Jing Hengbo suddenly sprawled across the table with a bang.

This startled Gong Yin into immediately stopping, looking down at her.

But Jing Hengbo wouldn’t look at him, her hand scrambling on the table searching for the wine jar’s position, mumbling confusedly: “Hic… brother… hic, drinking alone is no fun… another… another cup…”

Not finding the wine jar, she grabbed his sleeve. With a slight effort, that necklace was in her hand. Without looking, she casually stuffed it into her bosom, her other hand already pushing the wine bowl over: “Accompany me… accompany me for a drink…”

The necklace’s fragrance was faint, vaguely carrying a few traces of his clear scent, slightly cool yet comforting.

Seeing her take the necklace, Gong Yin’s eyes flashed strangely. He sat back down, turning to look at her, but since Jing Hengbo was sprawled over, he couldn’t see her face at all.

“Accompany me… accompany me…” Jing Hengbo kept persistently pushing the wine bowl toward him, acting like a drunk who wouldn’t listen to reason.

Gong Yin took the wine bowl. Jing Hengbo laughed heartily, grabbing the bowl to force-feed him. Gong Yin could have flicked his finger to shake her off, but how could he dare be rough with her? Smelling her wine-soaked scent, her lips still wet with wine, he frowned, wondering if his suspicion was too absurd.

He didn’t drink alcohol and didn’t like being with drinking people. Given his status, no drunkard dared approach him, so he really wasn’t familiar with how drunkards should behave.

Thus distracted, or perhaps reluctant to push away her soft body leaning close and the snow-white fingers swaying by his lips, absent-mindedly he was forced to drink another bowl. When she withdrew the bowl, her finger brushed past his lips, making his heart jump. Looking up at her, she had a completely drunken appearance, laughing without guard, her fingertip fiercely poking his cheek: “Smile, smile! Smile out a dimple for me to see!”

This woman was truly drunk.

He helplessly curved his lip corners. The scenery before his eyes was somewhat floating, his body somewhat soft, his chest somewhat burning, his vision somewhat blurred, some hot blood boiling within, his mind somewhat empty, consciousness somewhat hazy. He had never experienced this state before. He found it fresh and somewhat addictive, because those heavy worries, life-and-death troubles, family burdens, and love’s suffering seemed to suddenly fade, lighten, drift away. There was faint joy in his heart simply because she was before him—before him was her.

Across from him her shadow was also swaying. When she smiled, the corners of her eyes were flying, her eyebrows were flying too. Her eyes were moist and vivid like rolling pearls, bright to the point of being compelling, lustrous without any impurities, and her cheeks showed a touch of bright red that gorgeously flew to her temples—that was peach blossom color, truly reminiscent of spring’s most gorgeous peach blossoms.

Suddenly he remembered under the maple tree in Jingjing Courtyard, he had also seen her drunk once, brilliantly beautiful to the point of being startling, brightening the entire plain courtyard, as if even the mountains and rivers gained color because of it. At that time those pains hadn’t yet begun, at that time his feelings for her were just right, at that time Dige’s snow hadn’t arrived and spring was still thick—everything was beautiful as a dream. Only he alone was in hidden pain, waiting for that day when the dream would suddenly break. After that, though they separated and reunited repeatedly, they could never return to the beginning, could never face each other calmly, could never approach her without restraint. Even today when she smiled at him across the table without reserve was only because of this wine where he was drunk and she was drunk too. When the wine wore off, either he would turn away, or she would draw her blade…

Then let this luxury dream linger a bit longer during this wine where he was drunk and she was drunk too, a bit longer…

Wine emboldens people, wine befuddles wisdom. Under wine’s influence one always does things impossible to do normally. Anyway, he didn’t know what was happening—suddenly he grasped her hand, suddenly held her fingers warm in his palm. Her fingertips’ faint coolness—he pulled her palm toward his chest.

She didn’t refuse either, giggling as her body stretched long across the wine table, raising her head to look at him. Her pomegranate flower-like lips were very close to his chin. Her drunk eyes hazy, she repeatedly whispered: “Gong Yin… Gong Yin…”

“Mm… mm…” He answered again and again. Such peaceful calling was also rare for them. Let him hear it a few more times, a few more times.

Her finger had already reached into his chest. She suddenly changed from touching to grabbing, seizing his collar, pressing her face against it, asking him: “Drunk?”

He immediately shook his head.

Jing Hengbo nodded. Oh, drunk.

“After you sober up, will you still remember what happened before?”

“Remember.” He immediately answered.

“Who was just here crying to me?”

He was silent, thinking seemed somewhat difficult.

Jing Hengbo showed her white teeth again in a smile—was it that the higher someone’s usual IQ, the more adorably stupid they became when drunk and disgraced?

Half her body was already pressed against his ear, her tone quietly dreamlike.

“Gong Yin, do you miss me?”

He habitually wanted to be silent again. She frantically waved her palm before him, making him dizzy, her ear tickling as if scratching his heart. This enchantress could create all kinds of chaos, making him unable to think, so he had to say: “Miss.”

“Do you love me?”

“Love.”

“What was your mood when you were stabbed that time?”

“I hoped you’d stab deeper.”

“What mood when avoiding me?”

“Really wanted to kill myself.”

“Why?”

“I always wanted to set you free, to like those people you could like. I always wanted to go far away for a long time, so you could forget me. I wanted to disappear completely from your world, yet always couldn’t control appearing by your side. I was always doing things against both my own and your wishes. Unforgivable.”

Jing Hengbo took a deep breath, turned her head. She was drunk, drunk wasn’t she? When drunk, could her eyes be misty with tears?

“What mood when writing that self-exile edict?”

This time he seemed to have no answer, finally shaking his head.

She found this strange.

His smile was very faint: “Knowing it would inevitably end, why need any mood?”

Her heart shook slightly—he had already known then that he had no chance of survival, completely holding thoughts of final parting when self-exiling, so he was decisive without needing to think more?

“When we met again after escaping death, what mood? Why unwilling to start over?”

“There was no escaping death, how could there be starting over?”

She gritted her teeth.

“What mood when taking out that bottle?”

He paused again, then reached over her body to pour himself a bowl of wine, tilted his head back, and drained it in one gulp.

Perhaps drinking too quickly, his eyes showed crystalline moisture.

She stared at his eyes in shock, unable to believe what she saw. After a long while, she said softly, seductively: “Really don’t want children? Your descendants, your bloodline, the life witness of you and the person you love, soft, small, pink, adorable—your son or daughter, you really don’t want them?”

Gong Yin was about to pour wine again. Jing Hengbo pressed down on his hand, saying like a devil: “Don’t want them? Hmm?”

He turned his head, his eyes clear as glass in water, several parts moist and several parts sad as he stared at her: “In the Long family, offspring are the most precious and important blessing, also the most uneasy and helpless acceptance.”

She silently stared at him.

“No one understands how important offspring are to us, and no one understands the bone-deep worry before offspring are born. The more we treasure them, the more we fear, like master swordsmiths forging swords—only when the sword emerges from the furnace can they set down long-suspended hearts. We await offspring like awaiting unknown fate. Often we don’t ask for them to be intelligent and gifted, only healthy and safe. Because among Long family offspring, only one in three can survive, and that one still has a fifty percent chance of being bedridden with illness for life. When you joyfully welcome your bloodline and descendants, you must watch them die young, fall ill, be tormented daily by lifelong suffering… Sometimes you’d rather give up.”

“Is… that so…” Jing Hengbo’s voice was somewhat hoarse.

“In the founding era, the Long family was a great clan of over ten thousand people. How many remain now? Nearly half the Long family would rather remain unmarried for life. We cannot change our own bloodline. What we can do is cut off that malicious root.”

“Like… this…”

“And I…” He paused, closed his eyes: “Am not even as good as other Long family members.”

“So…”

“So…” he said, “I cannot.”

Jing Hengbo touched her belly, scooted her bottom backward, deciding that no matter how they talked tonight, no matter how many grievances she heard from him, tomorrow she’d still stay away from him.

The process of finding famous doctors had to be accelerated. Things were more serious than she had imagined.

What the Long family couldn’t face, she equally couldn’t face. She absolutely couldn’t let such things happen.

“Last question,” she said, “do you regret any of the above?”

Gong Yin’s eyes didn’t open. His long lashes cast faint shadows under his eyes, but didn’t tremble at all.

“No.”

Jing Hengbo swallowed an intake of breath.

Actually she knew this would be his answer. Someone like Gong Yin had firm will that couldn’t be shaken. Faced with harm, he always chose the lesser of two evils, never indulging because of reluctance. If things happened again, he would still knowingly suffer and continue on.

Fine, she was asking for abuse herself, falling in love with this man like an icy mountain stone. Getting a bump from hitting him was normal.

But she wasn’t an egg anymore either. She was a diamond now. When diamond met stone, if not mutually destructive, at least some sparks would fly.

“Do you know what my mood is?”

He supported his forehead with his hand, looking up at her. The same pearl-like eyes, both black and white crystal bright, making one’s heart tremble after looking long.

“What was my mood with that stab?” She asked and answered herself, smiling bitterly: “Seemed ruthless, but actually went soft at the last moment. If not for the poison outbreak, perhaps if that stab had killed you, I would have turned back to resolve myself.”

He stared fixedly at her.

She brought the wine bowl to his face. He drank it in one gulp, as if not doing so wasn’t sufficient to express the pain in his heart at this moment.

“What was my mood being confused by your various disguises?” She laughed once: “I once thought I was mentally ill, even went to that old immortal for medicine.”

He painfully furrowed his brow.

“What was my mood when I fought back to Dige and saw you weren’t there, saw your self-exile edict?” She closed her eyes: “Thought hope was right before my eyes, happiness within reach, then heaven poured a basin of cold water, telling me all efforts were wasted, all waiting had no result. That person didn’t want me, he hid from me, he told me nothing. I was at the ends of the earth, he was at the corners of the sea. I returned to Dige, he would never come back. I lost him forever, and I didn’t even know the reason for losing him.”

Gong Yin stared fixedly at her. He knew she must be suffering, but because of his serious illness, because he didn’t want to soften, he always avoided seriously thinking about exactly how she would suffer. Often he comforted himself that Jing Hengbo had a careless, indulgent personality, was naturally able to let go, and with so many people around treating her well—better short pain than long pain, she would be fine, would be fine. But in midnight dreams, in the intervals between disease’s burning pain, he would clearly feel her suffering—that woman who seemed careless but was actually persistent, seemed promiscuous but was actually devoted, seemed indifferent but actually recognized only one person, she wasn’t so easy to untangle, wasn’t so easy… Until today hearing it personally, his heart was like a frozen glass bottle cracking inch by inch, splitting inch by inch, soundless yet spreading cracks to every corner.

“Don’t say anymore…”

Heaven and earth were spinning, Jing Hengbo was spinning. Past events surged over like a flood, the feeling of heartache was suffocating. He heard his own nasal tone.

Jing Hengbo wouldn’t spare him.

Missing today, when would she ever pour out her heart again? Without scattering her thoughts like seeds in his heart, how could she exchange for his different thinking in the future?

“Leaving Dige, abandoning court, searching for you all the way, finally seeing traces of you but unable to find you—what was my mood?”

“People flowing like streams, I in the center, yet becoming an isolated island.”

“After sleeping with you once and you giving me that medicine—what was my mood?”

“Like using all my life’s strength to reach heaven, getting to heaven only to be told I went the wrong way.”

“Now at this point, I won’t lecture you, won’t persuade you, won’t convince you. Fundamentally, two people with different personalities can’t convince each other, so let each go their own way. I only ask that when you encounter things in future, think not only about whether you should, but also whether you’re willing.”

Gong Yin didn’t move at all, whether drunk to death or unable to listen anymore. Only his hand still tightly grasped hers, pressing it to his heart’s position. She curled her lip, thinking she must have moved rocks and hit heaven in her previous life, so heaven punished her by giving her a man who was outwardly cold but inwardly passionate.

Throwing down a silver ingot, calling for the bill, she pulled up Gong Yin. A drunk iceberg was no lighter than ordinary men, dead heavy. What made her more annoyed was that though he was also full of wine smell, his natural breath was fresh, smelling actually not unpleasant, even making one’s heart itch.

She ill-temperedly dragged Gong Yin, pulling him down the steps. The street was empty without a single person. As soon as they left, the tavern couldn’t wait to lower its boards.

Taking advantage of no one seeing, her figure flashed repeatedly, and after several flashes, she returned to the inn.

The Long Ying family had privately booked an entire courtyard. Jing Hengbo had spied on it—the courtyard wasn’t as she had imagined, with a group of numb white-clothed people walking around or complete silence. At this moment it was already deep night. Half the courtyard was quiet, half lively, with a group of young Long family members seemingly playing something, their shadows coming and going reflected on window paper.

She couldn’t determine which room was Gong Yin’s, hesitating whether to drag him to her own room, when suddenly she saw a door open and Nan Jin walk out.

Seeing Nan Jin reminded her of seeing her mysteriously buying medicine during the day. Her heart stirred as she crouched in the darkness.