◎Shanjun, I’m sorry—I’ve already tried to restrain myself.◎

—You too once lost your life.

These six short words made Yu Qingwu instantly understand why Shanjun always looked at him with such desolation.

It turned out she pitied his fate.

He murmured: “I died in the winter of the fifty-seventh year of Yuanshao?”

Lan Shanjun nodded. “Yes, the winter of the fifty-seventh year of Yuanshao.”

She said softly: “That day the snow was heavy, no clear sky could be seen. I passed by the execution platform and happened to see Wu Qingchuan personally wield the blade that severed your head.”

That scene was only seven years away from now. Since he had guessed it, since he wasn’t afraid and was willing to believe, she was also willing to be honest.

After a silence, Yu Qingwu raised his head and asked: “Then I—did I ever stand by and watch you die?”

Lan Shanjun was startled. She had thought he would ask about his own life and death matters, but hadn’t expected to hear this question.

She shook her head, moved in her heart: “Never.”

Yu Qingwu: “Then did I ever pass you by and turn a blind eye to your fate?”

Lan Shanjun shook her head. “Never.”

She said: “When you mounted the execution platform, it was the first time I saw you. But the distance was too far—you probably didn’t see me. We couldn’t really count as having met.”

Yu Qingwu then said: “I see…”

So when she said they weren’t old acquaintances, that was also true.

Only such an encounter was too cruel.

But after a few moments, he let out a light breath: “In that case, knowing I never committed any sins against you gives me some peace of mind.”

Lan Shanjun never knew how to respond to this unconcealed love of his.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. After a good while she asked: “Won’t you ask about yourself?”

People should care most about their own future.

But Yu Qingwu shook his head: “Having crashed against that ray of light, there should be no regrets.”

He smiled. “Only dying at Wu Qingchuan’s hands—that I’m truly unwilling to accept.”

Lan Shanjun looked steadily at him. “I’ve said before, if in the end we win and you cannot bring yourself to act, I will wield the blade for you.”

Yu Qingwu’s eyes grew increasingly tender. He thought, how could there be someone like Shanjun who had endured such suffering yet remained so resilient and kind?

He was truly blessed across three lifetimes to have this present encounter.

But when he raised his head to look at her and saw her brows and eyes entirely calm, not stirring with emotion even when speaking of these things, his eyes began to sting again.

He wanted to know about her future and death.

He asked in a low voice: “Then you, how long after I died did you…”

Lan Shanjun: “The fifth day.”

“The fifth day after you died, Song Zhiwei bound my hands and feet and sent me directly to Huailing.”

Yu Qingwu’s hands slowly clenched tight. “He—did he not tell you any reason?”

Lan Shanjun shook her head: “Not a single word.”

Thus she could only speculate about the truth in endless darkness.

To be a ghost who understood, she had hated too many people. Anyone connected to that year’s events, she hated them all, hated them until she became unrecognizable.

She also examined herself day and night, reflecting on why she was treated thus.

Was it because she sent Song Zhiwei’s concubine to the estate? Because she stepped on an ant? Because she once passed by beggars without giving them money?

Item by item, matter by matter, she blamed herself.

Until the first summer arrived. She sat there and suddenly had an epiphany.

She didn’t need self-reflection or self-blame. She only needed to hate Song Zhiwei.

Placing all her hatred on one person made it much easier to bear.

She said softly: “Before knowing that ray of light was deliberately left for me, the endless self-blame and hatred were the things that tormented me most. But being able to survive such torment, I felt I was extremely capable. Thus, I wanted even more to live—I believed I would eventually get out alive.”

Having said this, she actually felt somewhat relieved.

Being able to tell someone these things was something she had never imagined.

Only when she raised her eyes to look at Yu Qingwu, she saw his eyes filled with hatred, his whole body trembling, tears continuously welling up in his eyes. With each additional sentence she spoke, he shed another tear, as if he would cry himself to death.

Lan Shanjun stared blankly at him crying.

She herself had never cried like this.

How could he cry so easily?

But having someone cry for her like this, she felt a strange sourness in her chest that made her own eyes redden.

Seeing this, Yu Qingwu immediately became flustered. He hurried over but didn’t dare approach closely. Finally he could only extend his hand and tightly grasp her sleeve, his voice trembling as he vowed: “Shanjun, I will kill him—”

Beyond that, he couldn’t say another word.

Lan Shanjun only felt his trembling body through the fabric also making her heart tremble.

She had said Yu Qingwu was sick. He had grown diseased branches.

He took her hatred as his own hatred, was experiencing the hatred and pain she had felt back then.

She knew how much she had hated and hurt back then. Precisely because she knew, she understood that beneath his trembling body were countless blades carefully grinding against bone.

The bones grew thinner and thinner from grinding, but the blades grew sharper and sharper.

Yet even the sharpest blade couldn’t sever his diseased branches.

She didn’t want him to be like this.

She extended her hand, extended one index finger, and lightly touched his trembling hand: “Don’t be sad.”

She smiled gently: “Don’t be sad. You should be happy for me. I must have endured a full year. I was worthy of the fierce bones the old monk cultivated.”

Yu Qingwu felt Shanjun’s fingertip seemed to have the strength of a thousand layers, pressing down all his grief, pressing it to the bottom of his heart where it would never see daylight.

This must be how she mistreated herself, wasn’t it?

This was how she locked herself into nightmares, saying nothing, still walking forward during the day, telling herself to be joyful.

He cried even harder. He grasped her sleeve and wouldn’t let go. “I’m very sad—Shanjun, I’m very sad.”

“From the moment I learned you were marked with that ray of light, I began having nightmares too.”

Lan Shanjun was made even more at a loss by him.

Why could he cry so openly before her like this?

He wasn’t like this outside.

But she truly didn’t know how to respond. She could only take out her handkerchief and bit by bit wipe away his tears.

She no longer spoke words that would make him cry. Only after he had calmed considerably did she change the subject and ask curiously: “How could you believe such absurd and preposterous things about me?”

Yu Qingwu: “At first I didn’t believe it either.”

He recalled: “But I remembered that day—I remembered that day when you said you encountered a woman you’d never met before who told you she had once been marked with a ray of light, but you didn’t believe her—you didn’t listen seriously, responded perfunctorily, and later she died in a ruined temple and became your obsession.”

He raised his eyes and looked at her earnestly. “So I thought, no matter how absurd it was, I had to believe it, couldn’t be perfunctory—I was afraid that if I didn’t believe, something would happen to you.”

His voice dropped lower, and he couldn’t help reddening his eyes again. He quickly lowered his head, but a tear still fell and landed on his shoe. He choked: “Then how could I live the rest of my life? I wouldn’t be able to go on living.”

These words of his made Lan Shanjun even more at a loss. It was only after encountering Yu Qingwu that she learned someone could speak such words to her, could thus… thus cut open his heart and show it to her, could be so deeply devoted.

She wanted to refuse this heart of his.

She had never thought of having another marriage. But looking out the window, at this moment the sky was beautiful, the wind gentle and mild, the crabapple flowers blooming brilliantly, the vegetables in the garden lush and green—everything was good, and he was good too.

He was originally a person of iron bones and upright character, and counting it all, he had already cried for her several times.

Bathed in the warm sun, she suddenly couldn’t open her mouth to refuse.

She remained silent for a long time. With such silence, Yu Qingwu felt a surge of panic and said in an even lower voice: “Shanjun, I’m sorry—I’ve already tried to restrain myself.”

Lan Shanjun sighed. “I know.”

I can see it.