The blizzard raged, swallowing Mingshū’s voice. Her cries of “Brother” were scattered by the wind, disappearing silently into the deep night like falling snow. Besides the howling wind, no one answered her calls.
She crouched at the edge of the cliff, reaching out into the dark void, futilely trying to grasp something. Her heart sank into the abyss along with the darkness.
Mingshū was in disarray, but suddenly the grass at the cliff’s edge rustled, revealing a head. Someone was struggling to climb up the cliff face. In the pitch-black night, Mingshū couldn’t make out who it was. She quickly came to her senses, gritted her teeth, and picked up a large stone from the ground, standing at the cliff’s edge watching the person.
Lú Chángjué never expected that after escaping death by stepping on protruding rocks on the cliff face, he would reach the top only to see Mingshū standing there holding a stone, seemingly ready to push him back down.
“Mingshū?” he called out.
Recognizing Lú Chángjué’s voice, Mingshū quickly threw aside the stone and exclaimed joyfully, “Brother?!”
“What are you doing? Quickly, pull me up!”
“I… I was afraid it might be a bandit. If it was, I was determined to avenge you!” Mingshū said as she lay down to pull him up, overjoyed.
Lú Chángjué struggled to climb onto the cliff, saying, “Lucky you recognized me, otherwise I’d have become a wronged ghost by your hand.” He brushed off snow, debris, and grass from his clothes, then noticed her standing there speechless. He added, “Why so quiet? I was just joking.”
“Brother…” Mingshū murmured.
Lú Chángjué thought his ears were playing tricks on him and stared at her. “What did you call me?”
“Brother… Brother, Brother, Brother!” She repeatedly called out to Lú Chángjué, suddenly throwing herself into his arms like a butterfly or bird, holding him tightly and burying her head in his chest.
Lú Chángjué stumbled back half a step before steadying himself, momentarily frozen, unsure of where to place his hands.
The person in his arms was sobbing heavily, her shoulders shaking incessantly, like the beating of butterfly wings, gently yet persistently striking his heart.
“Did I scare you? I’m fine,” he finally said softly after a long while.
His large hand slowly pressed against the back of her head, gently stroking to comfort her.
Mingshū vented her emotions for a moment before finally calming down and looking up. Her mouth and nose were covered, leaving only her eyes exposed—eyes with reddened rims, brimming with tears she couldn’t hold back.
For no apparent reason, Lú Chángjué felt as if someone had violently tugged at his heartstrings.
In his memory, he hadn’t seen Mingshū cry since Mrs. Jiǎn passed away. When they parted in Jiangning, despite his harsh words, she never showed any vulnerability in front of him. During their years of acquaintance, he treated her with cold politeness, yet she always greeted him with a smile. When she woke up with amnesia, confused and insecure, she never showed any weakness in front of others…
These tears today, unless she was extremely upset, she would never have shed.
“Don’t cry anymore. I’m right here in front of you, safe and sound,” Lú Chángjué raised his hand, awkwardly wiping her eyes.
Mingshū snorted, her voice nasally as she said, “You always try to act tough. You nearly lost your life this time.”
“Alright, alright, it’s my fault. It’s… Mingshū, what did you call me earlier?” Lú Chángjué cupped her face and asked.
Mingshū bit her lip, refusing to answer.
Lú Chángjué continued, “You called out so urgently earlier, it’s too late to take it back now. I heard you.”
“Fine, I’ll say it. Brother! Brother, Brother, Brother!” Mingshū steeled herself and blurted out.
“You’ve finally accepted me as your brother?” Lú Chángjué asked her.
He had noticed her wariness all along. From the first day of her memory loss, she had never called him brother, nor had she called Madam Zēng mother. Although their relationship gradually became more harmonious, she still acted cautiously and often probed Madam Zēng for any inconsistencies in their story.
Mingshū looked at him—his hood was off, revealing red marks on his cheeks from the biting cold wind, with a few faint scratches visible. His gaze was sharp, yet contradictorily gentle.
He must have seen through her thoughts long ago but chose not to expose them, never forcing her to accept anything.
How to put it… Her doubts were still not completely dispelled, but she… trusted him as a person.
If he said he was her brother, then he would be her brother for life.
“Yes, Brother,” she said, her eyes curving into a smile.
Hearing this “Brother,” Lú Chángjué felt as if his heart might melt. Faint lights flickered through the snowstorm. He patted her back and said, “Alright, can you let go now?”
Mingshū abruptly released him, complaining, “These clothes are Gāo Fù’s, right? They smell of sweat and alcohol. It’s awful.”
And just like that, she was back to being critical.
When Lú Chángjué brought Mingshū back to the inn, the bandits had already been defeated. The fighting had ceased, leaving the inn in disarray. Blood stains were visible everywhere on the walls, and people lay scattered on the ground—it was unclear who was injured and who was dead. This was Mingshū’s first encounter with the harsh realities of the jianghu world, far from the grandeur depicted in novels and stories.
“Don’t look,” Lú Chángjué covered her eyes with his hand. “The carriage is parked on the west side of the inn. Help Mother over, and quickly go inside to escape the snow. I’ll go meet the chief escort.”
“Oh,” Mingshū nodded quickly and ran off, still shaken.
Soon after, Madam Zēng was helped into the inn. Although Lú Chángjué had instructed her to hide in the carriage, she was still pale with fright. Lú Chángjué had already met with the chief escort, but due to the day’s heavy losses and the cargo nearly being lost, the chief was busy directing his men in the cleanup. They only exchanged names and thanks. Seeing that Lú Chángjué had two female companions, the chief ordered someone to give them the best room in the inn.
“Let’s go,” Lú Chángjué said without hesitation, leading Madam Zēng and Mingshū to settle in the room.
————
The upper room was quite spacious, with two chambers, comfortably accommodating the three of them.
“This snow won’t stop anytime soon,” Mingshū said, helping Madam Zēng sit on the bed and glancing at the tree shadows outside the window swaying violently in the wind, which seemed to have grown stronger.
“Amitabha, thankfully we have a roof over our heads,” Madam Zēng clasped her hands, then remembering the carnage in the inn, added, “What a tragedy.”
“It’s alright now, you two rest well tonight,” Lú Chángjué said, taking off his hood to comfort them.
There was a knock at the door, someone bringing supplies.
“Here’s some freshly boiled water, along with some food, medicine, and other items. The young master asked me to bring these to you. He said that thanks to your courageous help today, this escort mission wasn’t a failure. Please rest well tonight, and he will come personally to thank you tomorrow.”
Judging by the person’s attire and manner of speaking, Mingshū guessed he was from the Táo family, and she had a vague idea of who the “young master” might be. She accepted the tray and said, “Thank you, kind sir.”
As the door closed again, Mingshū saw that besides a pot of hot water and a plate of hot pancakes, there was also a porcelain bottle of medicine and a small box of…
Women’s face cream.
“Mother, have some water,” she poured a cup and handed it to Madam Zēng first.
Madam Zēng took it, warming her hands before taking a small sip. Then, furrowing her brows in confusion, she looked up: “Mingshū, what did you just call me?”
Well, the same reaction as Lú Chángjué.
“Mom, Mother, Madam Mother,” Mingshū tore off a corner of a pancake and handed it to Madam Zēng.
Madam Zēng accepted it dumbly, looking at her, then at Lú Chángjué: “Did I hear correctly?”
“You heard right,” Lú Chángjué nodded with a smile. “Sister is calling you.”
Madam Zēng hurriedly put down what she was holding and stood up to look at Mingshū. She thought of Mingshū’s long-deceased mother, then of Mingshū as a child, then of the tragedy of the Jiǎn family, feeling increasingly sympathetic and loving towards her. Wiping her tears with the corner of her clothes, she embraced Mingshū tightly and choked out, “My dear child, don’t be afraid. It doesn’t matter if you’ve forgotten the past. From now on, you have me. As long as Mother is alive, I will protect you.”
Mingshū felt warmth in her heart and patted Madam Zēng’s back, saying, “Thank you, Mother.”
This “Mother” caused Madam Zēng to burst into tears once more.
Lú Chángjué remained silent.
Since they first met as children, he and she had been entwined for over a decade in Jiangning County. They were supposed to part ways forever, but unexpectedly, in his nineteenth year, he and the seventeen-year-old Mingshū became siblings.
Jiǎn Mingshū became Lú Mingshū.
————
As night deepened, the snow fell heavier. The old, poorly maintained house creaked in the wind, and the howling could be heard even through the windows. Madam Zēng had already fallen asleep. The remnants of a candle cast a faint light, and the room was quiet with no one speaking. The sounds from the inn had also gradually subsided.
Mingshū lay fully clothed beside Madam Zēng, her eyelids growing heavy. Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, she suddenly jolted awake, sitting up and staring blankly ahead, feeling as if she had forgotten something important.
After a while, her gaze fell on the items placed by the bed, and she remembered.
The medicine and face cream brought by the Táo family servant was on the bedside table. She had meant to remind Lú Chángjué to apply the medicine, but in all the commotion, she had forgotten.
Lú Chángjué was sleeping on a simple couch in the outer room, but he wasn’t there now, having left at some point.
Mingshū glanced at the sleeping Madam Zēng, grabbed the medicine, hesitated for a moment as her fingers brushed against the face cream, and then tucked both into her clothes before going out to find Lú Chángjué.
————
The inn had quieted down, with only the escort guards on duty while everyone else rested.
Lú Chángjué, carrying clean clothes, entered the kitchen area intending to heat some water for a quick wash.
As he lit the fire and scooped water, waiting for it to heat, he raised his arms and sniffed himself, frowning—the clothes he wore, borrowed from Gāo Fù, were indeed dirty and smelly. No wonder Mingshū had complained.
After a tiring day and half a night of fighting, he was exhausted, his limbs feeling like lead. Normally, when traveling, he wasn’t so particular and would have just changed clothes. But remembering Mingshū’s disgusted expression, he couldn’t help but make the effort.
Mingshū had always been fastidious about cleanliness, from childhood to now.
Very well, he’d make himself presentable to spare her from complaining about his smell tomorrow.
With these thoughts, the water gradually began to steam and soon came to a low boil. He scooped out the hot water and began to undress.
He had sustained some injuries during the fight with the bandits, the worst being on his hand. Though it had clotted, it stung sharply when touched by water, causing him to frown and hiss softly. Only then did he realize he had forgotten to bring the medicine?
Never mind, he’d clean the wound thoroughly first.
Lú Chángjué didn’t think much of it and lowered his head to clean the blood and grit around the wound.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the kitchen curtain.
“Brother, is that you in there?” Mingshū’s voice came as she abruptly lifted the curtain.
Lú Chángjué didn’t have time to cover himself. He turned his head, and his gaze met Mingshū’s directly.
The inn was rudimentary, with the kitchen and bathing area combined. She had no idea Lú Chángjué would be bathing here, assuming he was just boiling water, so she entered without hesitation.
They were both shocked into silence.