It was drizzling on the day of General Li Shuang’s secret burial.
By the coffin walked Li Shuang’s guards and many soldiers she had once commanded. Few from the General’s Manor attended; even the Grand General himself was absent. Only Li Ting followed the coffin, stumbling with each step while Qin Lan repeatedly steadied him to prevent his collapse.
Li Ting’s voice had grown hoarse from days of crying. When they reached the prepared grave, as the pallbearers lowered the coffin into the simple tomb, Li Ting called out raspily, “Elder Sister.” His voice fell with the rain onto the coffin, only to be buried by the first shovel of yellow earth.
Li Shuang was the Grand General’s adopted daughter, but she had died in prison bearing crimes. For the General’s Manor, they couldn’t even properly hold a funeral.
Everything was thus simple—an ordinary coffin, an ordinary grave pit. None of her lifetime achievements were marked; she received less honor than any common soldier who had died in battle.
Li Ting knelt on the ground, his white mourning clothes stained by the muddy earth. Qin Lan supported his arm in silent companionship.
Luo Teng had finally rushed back from the Northern Frontier, his armor beneath the mourning clothes still carrying the frontier’s chill. His eyes were wide as copper bells, unblinking as he watched the guards pile earth over Li Shuang’s coffin.
“This subordinate came too late! This subordinate deserves death!”
As he spoke, he struck himself hard across the face. Luo Teng’s hands were strong, and he didn’t hold back. His rough skin immediately swelled, but he didn’t stop, one slap following another.
The sharp sounds seemed to tear through the rainy day like whips striking everyone’s hearts. Besides Li Ting’s hoarse, almost inaudible crying, a deathly silence fell over the gathering.
Suddenly, amid the fine rain, the wind stirred. As the soldiers grew alert, a black shadow dove straight into the grave pit. With one powerful strike, it hit the heavy coffin so forcefully that the already-nailed lid flew off violently.
The heavy lid flew with such force that it knocked down a guard holding a shovel, pinning him to the ground. But no one paid him any attention—all eyes were fixed on the person who had jumped into the coffin.
“How dare you! Who dares disturb my general’s spirit!” Luo Teng shouted, ignoring his swollen face as he drew his sword to strike at the intruder. However, Qin Lan reached out from the side to stop him.
Luo Teng halted, glancing at Qin Lan before looking back at the figure who stood motionless in the grave like a ghost in the rain.
Inside the heavy outer coffin was a wooden inner coffin, just slightly longer than a person. Though he had struck away the heavy outer lid with one palm, upon seeing the inner coffin, he seemed drained of all strength, standing there as still as the coffin itself.
In the rain, his breathing was heavy, like a trapped beast.
“It’s…” Li Ting recognized him through tear-blurred eyes, but before he could finish speaking, numerous figures suddenly emerged from the dense forest around what was meant to be a secret burial.
The newcomers wore Azure Dragon swords at their waists—they were the Emperor’s Azure Dragon Guards!
They drew their bows, and arrows aimed at Jin An.
But Jin An seemed oblivious, his pitch-black eyes fixed unwaveringly on the sealed inner coffin.
He could smell it—the scent of the Gu Master within the coffin.
The Jade Silkworm within his body told him: yes, this was Li Shuang.
Jin An’s gaze remained fixed, unable to look elsewhere. The shouting of the archers, Luo Teng’s bellowing—all these sounds and sights seemed less real to Jin An than the wind in his ears and the rain before his eyes.
The coffin lay silently before him, Li Shuang lying silently within.
She no longer had warmth or fragrance, but to Jin An, it felt as if his very soul was being drawn in. His limbs felt swollen and powerless. He wanted to crouch down, to open the inner coffin, to confirm if Li Shuang was truly inside.
But what if…
She was?
The Five Spirits Sect had gone to great lengths to bring him to Lu City, which was only half a day’s journey from Western Rong. Wu Yin had helped disguise him, and escaping Lu City wouldn’t be too difficult. Yet when passing the city gate Li Shuang had once guarded, he saw Luo Teng on duty.
A panicked soldier had come to report: “General Luo! General Luo! News from the capital—General Li has… has died suddenly in prison…”
Luo Teng, with his fierce temper, barked: “You little wretch, speak clearly! Which General Li!”
“General… General Li Shuang…”
A single “drip” seemed to fall into the lake of his heart, stirring up countless ripples.
Jin An watched as Luo Teng froze briefly before his face drained of color. He turned and left with the soldier, while Jin An stood motionless amidst the bustling crowd passing through the city.
Above was the city tower where Li Shuang had stood, below was the earth she had guarded, but he suddenly seemed unable to understand what the name “Li Shuang” meant anymore. In that instant, he could no longer comprehend any of the buzzing words around him.
People pushed past him, passersby cursed him for blocking the way, and soon soldiers came to question him. But Jin An showed no reaction, like a puppet whose soul had been suddenly extracted, waiting for someone to pull his strings and lead him away.
Wu Yin, who had been observing from behind, came forward and led him away: “Young master.” Wu Yin examined Jin An’s unsettled expression and said with narrowed eyes, “Having come all this way, don’t tell me you’ve suddenly started missing someone and want to turn back?”
“I must go back.”
“…” Wu Yin smiled good-naturedly. “Do you think we Five Spirits Sect members have nothing better to do?”
Jin An said nothing, turning to walk toward the other end of Lu City. Every stranger coming toward him felt like a giant wave at sea, tossing him about on his return journey.
Wu Yin hurried to keep up, but before they had gone far, another Five Spirits Sect member whispered something in Wu Yin’s ear. Wu Yin’s expression changed slightly, and he immediately suppressed all emotion, focusing entirely on catching up to Jin An.
Thereafter, on the journey back from the Northern Frontier, he spoke not another unnecessary word.
On the road, Jin An rarely spoke to Wu Yin, but he did actively ask one question: “If Li Shuang dies, will I die?”
“Theoretically, when a Gu Master dies, the Gu person won’t die,” Wu Yin said. “But Gu people are utterly loyal to their Gu Masters, and most choose to end their own lives. Then we can retrieve the Jade Silkworm Gu. However, your bond with the Jade Silkworm was strange from the start—after all, you can already stay this far from your Gu Master, and you even proposed leaving earlier. It seems as if you’ve overcome the Jade Silkworm Gu’s consciousness.”
Wu Yin studied him with scrutinizing eyes. “Honestly, I don’t understand why you still want to go back to find Li Shuang. How she fares shouldn’t matter to you anymore, should it?”
Li Shuang was dead, and Jin An had his consciousness. Outside Lu City’s gate lay Western Rong—he could take this overwhelming power back to Western Rong. This should have been the best possible ending for him.
Nothing in this world could threaten him anymore.
Wasn’t Li Shuang’s death perfect? Heaven had accomplished what he had wanted but couldn’t do himself.
She knew his identity, knew he was the Western Rong prince who had killed two Western Rong generals. If he were to return to Western Rong, he couldn’t bear such a stain.
But…
Since learning of Li Shuang’s death, even though he sat by the fire every night, he felt a bone-deep chill. It was as if the blood in his body would never warm again.
His body no longer obeyed him, and even his thoughts began to turn strange. When Wu Yin told him Li Shuang was dead but he wouldn’t die, his first reaction was a disappointment and a sense of futility.
Why not?
Why not simply let him follow her?
After learning of “Li Shuang’s death,” the tearing pain became like a maggot in his bones, crawling throughout his entire body. In every joint, sharp-toothed insects seemed to gnaw desperately, as if about to drain his marrow.
Li Shuang was dead—why was he still alive?
Why remain alive?
This thought became particularly prominent as he now stood before Li Shuang’s coffin.
He had thought it was the Gu worm that loved Li Shuang, that it was the Gu worm that depended on her, not himself. So after recovering his memories and understanding who he was, he should have suppressed all the impulses brought by the Gu worm.
Because the Gu worm was like poison, and he was a rational, complete person—he had to cure his poison. Thus, depending on Li Shuang became poison, being unable to leave became poison, and loving deeply became poison.
He forced himself to treat Li Shuang with cold courtesy and proper etiquette, forced himself to leave, and forced himself to be rational.
But today, looking at the coffin before him, he finally understood that all talk of healing and rationality had been mere self-deception.
He was no longer the former Ao Deng. That name given by the person in the coffin had long since merged with his blood and bones, carved into his spirit and flesh. It couldn’t be dug out, couldn’t be scraped away, couldn’t be burned away—it remained even in the ashes.
He understood now, but too late.
With a “thud,” an arrow flew through the air and struck his shoulder. The force of the arrow made Jin An stumble forward, his knee landing on Li Shuang’s inner coffin.
A hollow echo rang out as if nothing was inside, but it shook Jin An’s memories.
Blood from his wound dripped onto the coffin, the splashing drops like fireworks on that snowy festival night in Lu City. The final burst remained vivid in his memory. The falling rain around his ears was like the first time he kissed her, on that snow-swept mountaintop in the Northern Frontier—her shock and anger still frozen before him.
Then there was that bandit’s lair, where she disregarded danger to enter a trap full of blades to save him. In the military camp, she maintained her iron-faced general persona in public but secretly passed him sweets. Even recently, in the dungeon of Nan Chang Mountain, she had arrived travel-worn to rescue him. Though her neck bore the marks of his frenzied grip, she still smiled and gently comforted him.
And all of everything finally stopped on that day of declining sunlight in the Northern Frontier’s desolate wilderness, when she rode forth—the lady general in red robes and silver armor—bending down to lift him, feeding him the fresh blood from her fingertip…
It wasn’t the Jade Silkworm that first loved Li Shuang—it was him.
Arrows whistled through the air, grazing his hair crown, letting his hair fall loose. The rain moistened his black hair, making him appear utterly disheveled. Suddenly, an arrow flew at an angle, piercing through the thin wooden board of the inner coffin.
The wooden board split along its grain, a piece folding inward, revealing the black hair of the person inside.
Jin An’s entire body trembled as if this arrow had wounded his three souls and seven spirits.
He clenched his teeth, his grief turning to fury. The flame-marked area seemed to ignite again. He turned his gaze to glare viciously at the Azure Dragon Guards surrounding the grave pit, his pupils shifting between black and red.
“Who dares harm her?”
Everyone watched as a red pattern crawled out from between his clothes, climbing upward until it reached his eye corner, then burning his pupils red.
He removed his outer robe, wrapped it around Li Shuang’s coffin, and bound it to his back. Carrying Li Shuang’s inner coffin, he stood alone in the grave, staring at the surrounding Azure Dragon Guards like a wild beast.
The blood rage seemed to drive him mad. Those flame patterns didn’t stop their rampage within his body, quickly spreading across his hand and the other half of his face. The patterns kept changing beneath his skin, their color growing deeper, making him appear almost demonic.
As if immune to pain, he pulled out the arrows from his body. His fierce movements startled not only the Azure Dragon Guards but even the battle-hardened Luo Teng:
“This person is…”
Jin An climbed out of the grave pit carrying Li Shuang’s coffin, like a demon returning from hell with his wife, bearing despair, ready to slaughter all gods and buddhas in the world.
His blood-red eyes stared ahead as the Azure Dragon Guards aimed their bows at him. The Azure Dragon Guard Captain spoke: “By imperial command, we’ve come to invite Prince Ao Deng to the palace, not to—” Before he could finish, Jin An raised his hand from afar, using his inner force to grab and seize the captain’s neck across that distance:
“Enter the palace? Good. The Emperor forced her to death, so I shall go kill your Emperor.”
Everyone present was shocked to see his near-demonic state. The Azure Dragon Guards drew their swords, but Jin An didn’t spare them a glance. He stripped the captain’s sword from his waist and tossed him aside like refuse.
He strode toward the imperial palace. The Azure Dragon Guards naturally wouldn’t let him leave. Their captain struggled to his feet and gave the order—the guards rushed forward as one.
Amidst the flashing blades, Jin An made no effort to protect himself, only shielding the coffin on his back. Though formidable, the coffin’s bulk and the number of opponents left vulnerabilities. Yet he would rather take hits with his body than let the coffin suffer the slightest damage.
Fighting and advancing, he carved his way from the dense forest to the city outskirts. The light rain grew heavier with the fierce battle. As they neared the main road, more guards appeared—at a glance through the rain, it seemed like one man against thousands.
The coffin was stained crimson, whether with his blood or that of the Azure Dragon Guards was unclear. Corpses littered the ground, and his murderous aura made the surrounding guards hesitate to approach. They formed a circle around him, moving slowly with his steps.
“This man has gone mad.”
“He’s been possessed.”
“…He must be a demon!”
Whispers threaded through the rain, enveloping him with the falling drops. As more soldiers gathered before him, suddenly a flute’s melody rose from afar. The muddy earth stirred with countless black insects emerging from the soil!
The insects swarmed toward the surrounding soldiers, who panicked trying to brush them off, but to no avail.
As chaos erupted, two figures in blue robes descended from above, reaching for Jin An’s arms to take him away.
But when they grabbed him, they failed to capture him. Jin An dodged sideways, spinning so the coffin on his back knocked them away.
He didn’t harm the Five Spirits Sect members who’d come to save him, but he wouldn’t let them near. Nothing could stop him from reaching the palace, nothing could stop him from seeking death. His entire being seemed to proclaim this.
“Don’t let him escape!” The Azure Dragon Guard Captain channeled his inner force to destroy the swarming insects, then grabbed a soldier’s sword and leaped at Jin An.
Jin An met the attack. With one clash, the captain was forced back over ten paces before regaining his footing. As he steadied himself, his damaged sword snapped in half with a crack.
Though all feared Jin An’s strength, the Azure Dragon Guards were the imperial family’s protectors, with their pride and conviction. Following their captain’s example, they used inner force to dispel the insects and charged again.
The battle descended into bloody chaos as if even the rain might turn crimson.
The soldiers who had come from the General’s Manor to attend the funeral watched silently from the elevated forest path. Li Ting rubbed his eyes, unable to watch: “Elder Sister wouldn’t have wanted this.”
Luo Teng scratched his head in confusion: “This man and the general…”
Qin Lan remained silent, merely glancing aside at a short soldier in black robes and a wide hat like the others, face hidden. While everyone focused on the battle, this figure quietly vanished.
The rain-soaked battle intensified. The Five Spirits Sect rescuers were drawn in, unable to extract themselves. At this rate, not only Jin An but the Five Spirits Sect would be pulled into this imperial vortex.
In the chaos, lightning-quick, an arrow pierced the rain. Just as Jin An cut down an Azure Dragon Guard, the arrow curved at a peculiar angle, grazing the guard’s arm before striking Jin An’s heart with a thud.
Jin An looked up toward the arrow’s source. Through the thick foliage and rain, a figure knelt on a tree branch, bow still trembling in hand. Under the wide hat, they lifted their head slightly.
Those familiar eyes were like stars in the night, illuminating the darkest corners of his heart.
Her lips were tightly drawn, suppressing all emotion.
Li Shuang…
It was Li Shuang…
She was alive.
He tried to call her name, but blood surged forth first. All his suppressed wounds seemed to erupt at once, blood rushing to his throat. He vomited black blood, choking on the thick copper taste.
Amid violent coughing, he could no longer support himself. Like a mountain, he collapsed. The tattered clothes binding the coffin finally broke, letting it slide from his back and crash down, splashing mud and blood.
Though wretched and filthy, Jin An laughed—a hoarse, broken sound.
She was alive.
On the return journey, Wu Yin had asked: what if this was a plot? What if Li Shuang had faked her death to lure him back?
He hadn’t answered, but in his heart, he’d thought: wouldn’t that be wonderful?
Jin An knelt in the mud, lacking even the strength to raise his head. He knelt silently, appearing unconscious. “Heh…” A light laugh, somewhere between a sigh and relief, drifted down with the rain.
How perfect.
It was a plot.
She wasn’t dead.
With a thud, still smiling, he closed his eyes and collapsed.
As the Azure Dragon Guards cautiously approached to take him, the flute melody rose again in the distance. Countless insects swarmed from both ground and sky.
Though the guards tried to drive them off, the black insects blinded them, hampering their movements. They could only watch as two figures lifted the unconscious Jin An and carried him away with lightfoot techniques.
No one noticed the bow falling from the great tree, or that the small-statured soldier had vanished.
Ten days later, at Nan Chang Mountain.
Bird’s song was pleasant when Jin An regained consciousness, finding himself alone.
He tried to sit up, but intense pain shot through his chest, leaving him powerless. He fell back.
“If he doesn’t wake today, I’m out of options,” Wu Yin’s sigh came from outside.
“It’s my fault—that arrow was too heavy.”
Jin An’s eyes brightened at that voice.
“There was no choice. Nobody could have taken him away otherwise.”
They entered as they spoke.
“Oh!” Wu Yin seemed startled. “You’re awake…”
Jin An ignored him, his gaze following the other figure as she hurried past the furniture to his bedside. “You’re awake?” Her silhouette was backlit, her voice and appearance just as when they first met in the Northern Frontier.
“Awake?” His voice was extremely hoarse as if doubting himself. He feared this was a dream. “You’re alive?”
Li Shuang paused: “The fake death had another purpose. I didn’t expect you to return.”
Fake death…
Jin An closed his eyes briefly. Wu Yin’s teasing about his earlier despair became like the wind in his ears, no longer important.
Seeing his state, Li Shuang thought him exhausted and said: “Rest first, I’ll—”
“Stay with me a while.” He turned to look at her. “Don’t leave.”
These were words the pre-memory Jin An would have said, but coming from him now, they carried a hint of command and firmness.
Li Shuang paused briefly, then nodded: “Alright.” She had nothing else to do now anyway.
She was now a dead general. In the cabinet prison, besides Si Ma Yang, her father, and Qin Lan, no one knew she was alive. Even Li Ting had been kept in the dark.
This grand play, when explained, wasn’t complicated.
That day, Li Shuang had seen through the prison guard bringing food at a glance. She feigned poisoning, luring him into the cell where she quickly subdued and questioned him.
It turned out the Prime Minister wanted to kill Li Shuang to drive a wedge between the Emperor and the General’s Manor.
The Prime Minister had been too hasty. Si Ma Yang needed an obedient counterbalance, not a piece that could secretly mobilize assassins to kill a general’s daughter in the cabinet prison.
Li Shuang fed the guard her blood, saying it contained Gu poison from Nan Chang Mountain, making him obedient. She had him send a message to Qin Lan, leading to this play being acted out by the Grand General and Emperor.
Li Shuang faked her death, creating apparent discord between the Grand General and the Emperor. When the Prime Minister lowered his guard, Qin Lan exposed the guard, revealing the poisoning plot. Finally, on ten counts including attempting to murder a military commander and deceiving the Emperor, the Prime Minister was condemned, and his faction was eliminated under the banner of purging corrupt officials.
Spreading news of Li Shuang’s death made the performance convincing, while simultaneously representing Si Ma Yang’s mercy toward her.
At first, Li Shuang didn’t understand why Si Ma Yang suddenly changed his mind and let her leave. After all, even with a fake death, using imperial authority to give her some title and bring her to the palace wouldn’t have been difficult.
The day she left the capital alone, none from the General’s Manor who knew of her fake death came to see her off. Surprisingly, Si Ma Yang came, leaving the palace in disguise with no attendants.
The sky was overcast that day, spring rain falling steadily. Si Ma Yang wore plain grey robes like any commoner, yet even without imperial dress, his imperial bearing couldn’t be concealed.
Their meeting was somewhat awkward.
Though they had cooperated in the plan to eliminate the Prime Minister’s faction, they hadn’t met during this time.
When Li Shuang faked her death and was returned to the General’s Manor, she remained hidden there. All planning was coordinated through the Grand General and Qin Lan.
On her burial day, Qin Lan told her the Emperor had permitted her departure, so she had planned to leave for the Northern Frontier with Luo Teng after her “coffin” was buried. But she hadn’t expected Jin An to return from the Northern Frontier, nor that Si Ma Yang had predicted his return and positioned so many Azure Dragon Guards!
Her final arrow allowed Jin An’s escape, letting the future Crown Prince of Western Rong be rescued. Great Jin had lost a major bargaining chip against Western Rong.
So now, meeting Si Ma Yang, she was a disloyal subject and he was an unjust ruler. No matter how they tried to hide it, an unavoidable distance and unfamiliarity remained.
“Your Majes—”
Si Ma Yang raised his hand to stop her words: “I’m merely bidding farewell to an old friend.”
Li Shuang was startled but dropped the courtesies. She straightened her back and met Si Ma Yang’s eyes directly.
In court, Qin Lan had presented evidence of the Prime Minister inciting others to poison Li Shuang. This Emperor standing here—his hidden hand was now conducting his first silent, cold purge since ascending the throne.
It wasn’t hard to imagine how intense the power struggle between him and the General’s Manor would become without Prime Minister Ji He.
But none of that concerned Li Shuang anymore.
“The Grand General ordered Qin Lan not to see you off.” Li Shuang led her horse while Si Ma Yang walked beside her, truly like an old friend coming to say goodbye. “It seems he wants you to completely sever ties with the past.”
Li Shuang understood. Her father was telling her that Li Shuang was dead, so no one from the General’s Manor would see her off. From now on, she would no longer be Li Shuang, and the future achievements and mistakes of the General’s Manor would have nothing to do with her.
It wasn’t heartlessness—only this way could she begin a new life.
Li Shuang remained silent as Si Ma Yang continued: “I also promised the Grand General…” He paused. “Xue’er, this truly is our final meeting.”
At this moment, Li Shuang understood why Si Ma Yang no longer tried to keep her—her father had intervened.
To let his unfilial daughter leave, the old man must have engaged in another round of chess with this emperor.
The spring breeze was gentle, bringing moisture to Li Shuang’s eyes. She halted, blinked away the wetness, and turned to Si Ma Yang: “Your Majesty, please stop here.”
Si Ma Yang indeed stopped, making no further demands.
“I hadn’t expected that man to be the black-masked warrior who defended Great Jin against Western Rong in the Northern Frontier.”
Li Shuang fell silent briefly. The news that Jin An was Western Rong’s Prince Ao Deng had spread—that day when Jin An was emotionally volatile, some soldiers had recognized him and leaked the secret.
“It’s… a long story,” Li Shuang didn’t know how to explain.
Si Ma Yang shook his head: “I don’t need to know the reasons. But now that this news has leaked, Western Rong will soon know. They won’t accept a prince who killed two of their great generals as their future king.”
Li Shuang silently agreed, uncertain how Western Rong would treat Jin An. But she could imagine that reclaiming his position as Crown Prince would be difficult—this was a stain he could never wash away in this lifetime.
“He’s no longer that important to me anyway.”
Si Ma Yang gazed into the distance, where the clouds were a deep green.
Li Shuang turned to look at him, her lips twitching slightly before simply saying: “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
She understood Si Ma Yang’s purpose in coming to see her off—he came to set her mind at ease. To tell her that Jin An was no longer useful to him, so if she wanted to find him, she could go. For the long road ahead, each should take care of themselves.
This was perhaps… an emperor’s final tenderness.
Li Shuang led her horse forward, hoofbeats echoing “clip-clop” as they grew distant.
They both knew that from now on, Li Shuang of the General’s Manor no longer existed in this world. That wild child who had punched the emperor when they first met, that spirited young girl in their memories—she was dead.
Life had always been thus: old people must leave, new people must arrive.
So Li Shuang returned to Nan Chang Mountain.
Wu Yin had brought Jin An back two days ago. His injuries were severe, and he remained unconscious. In his confused dreams, he called only one name—
“Li Shuang.”
Finally, Li Shuang came, but he still hadn’t awakened. Wu Yin said if he didn’t wake up today, he might never wake up again. Fortunately, heaven showed mercy, and he finally came back to life.
Li Shuang sat by his bed, her thoughts wandering through the past few days. She glanced at Jin An, saw him drifting back to sleep, and stood to get some water. But as soon as she moved, Jin An immediately awakened.
“Where are you going?”
Being watched so closely for the first time, Li Shuang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He was the one severely injured in bed, yet somehow she felt like the one being nursed.
“Getting water. Are you thirsty?”
“Will you feed me?”
That question… as if he could get up and drink himself in his near-paralyzed state? Li Shuang nodded: “Of course.”
“A little thirsty.”
“…”
If she had said no, would he no longer be thirsty?
Somewhat amused, Li Shuang poured water and bent to support him, helping him drink half a cup. “More?” Jin An shook his head, so she set the cup down and began adjusting his blankets.
“Today’s news is that word of you killing two Western Rong generals has leaked. The new Western Rong king tried to suppress it, but it caused an uproar in court. Your royal father, likely under pressure, has ordered that you not return to Western Rong. After you recover, becoming Crown Prince again will be difficult.”
Jin An made a sound of acknowledgment, showing he understood, but displayed no emotional reaction.
Li Shuang smoothed his blankets and asked: “What are your plans after you recover?”
Jin An was silent for a long while: “We’ll see.” His answer carried a hint of coldness, so Li Shuang fell silent too. “Rest more. My arrow was too heavy, too close to your heart. Though you heal quickly, you still need plenty of rest.”
Jin An obediently closed his eyes. After a long while, when Li Shuang thought he had fallen asleep again, he spoke: “Don’t feel guilty. I know you did it to save me.”
Li Shuang was startled by his words. If the previous Jin An had been pure and devoted like a child, the current one would have gained much more sharpness and wisdom.
But things were indeed different from before…
The next day, when Jin An woke, his body was much better than yesterday. After coming out of unconsciousness, his healing ability seemed to have returned to normal. After just one night, he could get up and walk a little.
He supported himself against the wall as he left his room but didn’t see Li Shuang. Upon asking, he learned she had gone to gather herbs on the back mountain.
One of the medicinal ingredients needed for his treatment had to be gathered from a cliff. Previously, Wu Yin had gathered it himself, but now that they had run out and he was busy with clan matters, the task fell to Li Shuang.
The path to the cliff was extremely treacherous. Jin An supported himself partway there before his strength gave out. He sat by the path to rest, looking into the distance at the nearly vertical cliff face. It was too far to see if anyone was up there, but he could imagine that even with Wu Yin’s lightfoot skills, gathering herbs there would be very dangerous.
Li Shuang…
After waiting for who knows how long, light footsteps approached. Jin An stood and saw Li Shuang at the other end of the path.
Her face was dirty, her sleeve torn by something, and her arm showed raw, bloody scrapes.
Jin An’s gaze sharpened as he immediately went to meet her.
“How did you get hurt?”
“Why did you come?”
They spoke almost simultaneously. Li Shuang casually tugged at her torn sleeve: “It rained a few days ago, the rocks were slippery. I just fell, nothing serious.”
How could a simple fall tear clothes like that? She must have fallen down the cliff—how dangerous that moment must have been…
Jin An was silent for a long while: “My wounds can heal on their own. Don’t gather herbs anymore.”
Li Shuang smiled: “I know. These aren’t for you—they’re to repay the Five Spirits Sect’s kindness.”
They had used up their precious medicine treating Jin An, so Li Shuang went to gather more to repay them. But why should she have to repay favors for his treatment…
“I’ll gather them in the future.”
“Heal properly first.”
Though Li Shuang said this, Jin An naturally took the herb basket from her shoulder. His face was still very pale, and Li Shuang tried to take the basket back: “It’s heavy. You can’t carry it now.”
“I could carry you too right now.”
The words were ambiguous. Li Shuang was startled—it felt like talking to the previous Jin An, yet… different.
Wu Yin had just finished handling clan matters and left the meeting room when he saw Li Shuang and Jin An walking up the mountain together. Finding it interesting, he went to tease them: “Oh? Now you don’t want to leave her? Having lost her once, you’ve learned to cherish her?”
Li Shuang glanced at Wu Yin: “He’s just bored from lying down too long.”
“I came looking for you.”
Jin An knocked away the excuse Li Shuang had made for him.
Li Shuang was stunned. As Wu Yin clicked his tongue, about to tease them further, Jin An unceremoniously shoved the herb basket into his arms: “I’ll gather ten more baskets for you later. Tell me what you need, don’t trouble her.”
With that, he returned to his room.
Wu Yin watched Jin An’s retreating figure: “Tsk tsk, to think he had such a temperament. He was easier to bully when he had no memories and was more foolish.”
Li Shuang was somewhat confused: “What’s his situation now? The Jade Silkworm Gu seems to not affect him, but he seems…”
“Seems like he’s still loyal to you, right?”
Li Shuang nodded.
Wu Yin pondered for a moment: “The Jade Silkworm Gu changes his body but can’t completely change the person. Normally it preserves memories, so while all Jade Silkworm Gu people are loyal to their masters, their personalities remain different. They maintain their original characteristics while being loyal to their masters—that’s how a normal Jade Silkworm Gu person should be.”
Li Shuang was stunned.
“You mean… this is how the Five Spirits Sect’s Jade Silkworm Gu people should have always been?”
“Yes.” Wu Yin nodded. “Since you left Nan Chang Mountain, I’ve been pondering. After he recovered his memories, everything he experienced was like going through the initial process of the Jade Silkworm Gu entering the body again—merging anew with the Gu in his body. All the initial struggles, confusion, then rejection, followed by the mental struggles brought by memories, until finally reaching this integration and acceptance.”
“So now he’s… become a true Gu person?”
“He’s become what he should be.”
Li Shuang’s emotions grew incredibly complex at these words.
Who was the current Jin An—Ao Deng, or Jin An? Li Shuang couldn’t distinguish. Even more difficult to answer was whether this current state was what Jin An truly wanted. Was this the life he truly desired? Li Shuang didn’t know and couldn’t answer.
That night, after dinner, Li Shuang sat on the Five Spirits Sect’s cliff, gazing at the distant stars. The wind at her ears was blocked as Jin An approached.
“You should rest more.”
“Being confined indoors isn’t rest.”
Well, he had a point. Li Shuang nodded, casually picked up a wine jar beside her, and took a drink. She had drunk quite a bit, her cheeks flushed with a touch of intoxication.
“You enjoy drinking?”
“Not particularly. It’s just that before, at the General’s Manor and in the military camp, I always had to maintain proper appearances. Now that I’m finally free, I’m indulging a bit.”
Jin An moved closer to Li Shuang. When his breath touched her face, she instinctively tensed, but he merely reached past her for another wine jar, drinking deeply as she had.
“Your body…”
“Southern wine isn’t as strong as Northern.” Jin An set down the jar. “You should try Western Rong’s wine—it would suit your temperament better.”
Li Shuang’s words were cut off. Seeing his much-improved complexion, she didn’t bother with health warnings. She smiled and shook her head, not dwelling on the topic of wine, but using his mention of Western Rong to ask: “Your injuries should heal in about ten days. Do you still plan to return to Western Rong then?”
Jin An swirled the wine jar without immediately answering. After seeming to contemplate, he turned to Li Shuang: “What about you?” The starlight reflected in his pitch-black eyes. “Where will you go?”
“Me?”
“No longer a general, leaving the General’s Manor, not marrying your Great Jin’s emperor—what are your plans?”
“I suppose…” Li Shuang looked at Jin An for a while, then lowered her gaze with a soft laugh. “I suppose I’ll travel to many places, see the mountains and waters, experience life. Do all the things I couldn’t do as a general.”
“Mm.”
Jin An’s response was light, seemingly cold, with no follow-up.
The mountain wind blew through their silence. When the wine jar was empty, Li Shuang stood: “It’s getting cold. I’m going to bed.”
“Mm.”
Indeed, Jin An didn’t call after her.
Li Shuang extinguished the oil lamp in her room, lost in thought in the darkness. When Jin An had asked about her plans, she had initially been unsure how to answer. In her imagination, her future life should have included Jin An.
But seeing his eyes just now, hearing his somewhat cold responses, Li Shuang felt uncertain.
Wu Yin said he had become a complete Gu person, that this was how a Gu person should be, but Li Shuang didn’t know what a Gu person should be like.
To her, Jin An was a person. Before he had depended on her so much because his memories were incomplete—she was his entire world, unable to live without her.
But now Jin An was no longer that person. He could leave her, choose not to depend on her. His return to the capital upon news of her death might have been due to his “Gu nature.” Under normal circumstances, everyone knew that Jin An’s previous obsession with her was abnormal—it wasn’t love, wasn’t even his own will.
Who would want to live a “controlled” life?
Moreover, looking at it now, Jin An—when he was Ao Deng—had probably been a decisive, extremely forceful man. If you told such a person that one day he would have to live his life following another’s words, how would that differ from imprisoning him, turning him into a puppet?
Perhaps it would be better if she left before his wounds healed, letting them both bid farewell to this distorted relationship.
She was no longer a general. Even if she died someday, no one would bring the news to disturb his life. They could part ways completely, each living their own complete life, never disturbing each other again…
That would be good too.
She didn’t rest that night. As dawn approached, she wrote a farewell letter for Wu Yin in the faint pre-sunrise light. Leaving it on the table, she packed a simple bundle and quietly left the Five Spirits Sect.
Before descending the mountain, she looked back at Jin An’s door.
It was slightly ajar—he should be sleeping inside. Li Shuang turned and went down the mountain.
She had been a general; partings and deaths were common in her life. However, this was not what she was best at.
The path down Nan Chang Mountain was winding and treacherous. She walked alone through the forest. The sun hadn’t fully risen and mist-shrouded the path. After countless turns through the mountain paths, the road gradually leveled out, leaving the dense forest behind. But on the main road connecting to the winding mountain path, a figure stood with hands clasped behind his back.
He must have stood there for some time—dew had dampened his shoulders.
Seemingly hearing her approach, he turned. On the dawn-lit road, the golden sunrise caught his eyes, making him squint slightly as he watched her silently.
“Let’s go.”
Two simple words, so casual and natural, as if they had arranged to meet here.
Li Shuang was bewildered.
“Where… to?”
“Anywhere. To see mountains and waters, and experience life. Do all the things we haven’t done before.”
Li Shuang stared at him blankly: “How did you know I…”
“I waited all night. If you hadn’t left today, I would have waited until tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the next day. You would leave eventually, so I just needed to keep waiting.” Jin An extended his hand as if invisible threads pulled Li Shuang toward the sunlit path.
She stood before him, looking up: “You’re not returning to Western Rong?”
“Didn’t you say they won’t let me return?”
“But you…” She paused. “Have you thought about this kind of life? Do you truly want to be with me?”
“Yes.”
“If it were the previous you…”
“The previous me died in that frontier dungeon. Ao Deng died there.” Jin An’s first words were somewhat cold, but his voice softened afterward. “The one you met is me, the one you named. I am yours; I exist because of you.”
He held Li Shuang’s hand, softly kissing her fingertips, the touch so gentle it made her fingers tingle.
“I will belong to you forever.”
He looked at her, his eyes the deep black of night, yet at that moment, Li Shuang seemed to see that black-masked warrior with crimson eyes.
It was him, only him, who would say such words.
“I’m no longer a general, won’t use the name Li Shuang anymore. No identity, abandoning the past. Do you… truly want to wander endlessly with me through life’s upheavals?”
“Life’s upheavals without you—that would be wandering.”
Li Shuang lowered her head, laughing softly: “Then let’s go.”
No need to care who they were in the past—they were both people who had “died,” and this departure was a new life.
Li Shuang walked toward the main road, sunlight paving the way, birdsong sweetly bidding farewell. Her steps were free and easy. Looking back, she saw the jade-like features of the man behind her, his smile as gentle as the mountain breeze and bright moon.