The door was shut, the wind moving along the corridor outside. Candlelight was lit in the room, and a basin of water was set on the stool beside the bed. Hongti, having cried for a while, sat at the bedside, her hands working to settle the flow of blood and energy through Ning Yi’s body.

Wang Shanyue and the others, disturbed by the earlier noise, had come to ask what was wrong, but seeing Hongti there, had gone back.

Compared to the immense pain caused by the Broken Six Dao running at full force, the ache in his head had now been greatly eased under Hongti’s kneading fingers. But along with the relief came an overwhelming exhaustion and a sense of release, and it took every bit of his will to stay conscious, his vision swimming again and again.

One hand still gripped the edge of Hongti’s clothing, but before long, his strength gave out, and his arm fell, coming to rest on her leg. For a woman, that position was hardly different from the earlier liberties taken with her — yet Hongti didn’t dare pull away, only said, “I’m not leaving. Wait until you wake up… rest for now.”

Ning Yi weakly shook his head. “I don’t believe you…”

He drew a breath and, with great effort, spoke haltingly.

“…Actually, ever since that night, under that rock, when I held you for the second time… you didn’t push me away, and I knew then. These past few days… I’ve been thinking, thinking about Mount Lüliang…”

He lay there, closing his eyes, breathing in and out several times before opening them again. “In the past, I envied your life — I thought about some things too romantically… and I’ve always been too practical in how I handle matters. I kept thinking about the Lüliang situation, thinking about… how to sort things out clearly. After making up my mind, what I wanted to tell you tonight… came a little too late…”

Hongti’s eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head. “Don’t think about Lüliang… I don’t want you to…”

“I have to think about Lüliang — I can’t not think about it.” Ning Yi gave a slight smile, his gaze deep and utterly serious. “I’m not… some green boy who’d say you’re a burden to me just because you have Lüliang behind you. Part of you belongs to Mount Lüliang, and you can’t let go of them — that’s a good thing. Because of that, I admire you, and I like you. If I want you, I need to be prepared for what that means… fortunately, I think I may have the capacity for it…”

In the pinprick glow of the lamp, Hongti leaned over him, sniffing. All along her journey, she had never once complained — she simply felt these were things she was meant to endure. She could eat dry, hardened bread paired with bitter leaves without complaint, and never thought there was anything wrong with Ning Yi eating such fine, delicious food — Mount Lüliang had always been that hard a place… No one had ever spoken of wanting to share the burden of Lüliang with her like this; she had even once thought that the weight of the Green Wood Stronghold on her back would inevitably color how any future husband’s family saw her, and would inevitably become a burden to others as well. Yet now, with her hands still pressed against Ning Yi’s head, as the tears fell, she couldn’t even reach up to wipe them away — they dripped, one after another, onto his clothes.

Ning Yi grew weaker, closing his eyes; after a moment, opening them again, he gathered his thoughts.

“A pity… I thought about it a bit too long. If you had left today, I would have been very sad, because for now, I can’t get past it… And besides, you’re probably going to have to marry someone else, aren’t you?”

Hongti shook her head, struggling to hold back her emotions. “I’m too old… I’m your master… I don’t want Mount Lüliang to be a burden on you…”

Her emotions wavering, her words came out somewhat broken. Ning Yi shook his head.

“I don’t care about any of that. Whatever you want to call yourself — be my master, if you want. I’ll do what needs doing regardless. What did Zhou Tong say to you, that damned old man—”

“He didn’t say much, Senior just mentioned it in passing, that’s all…”

“I don’t care about any of it! There’s always a way to solve these things — you just need to listen to me! I’m already tired of Su Wenyu and the rest going on and on every day about how I’m… no good at winning a woman’s heart. I’ve already held you, kissed you, taken off your clothes — you’re my woman now, you just need to listen to me, and that’s enough. As for Mount Lüliang… as for Mount Lüliang…”

He pursed his lips, drew a breath, forcing himself to stay conscious. “Do you know… why I went out to do all this… why I chose to help Qin Siyuan…”

“You— you said back in Hangzhou, that the Liao would march south, that it would bring ruin and suffering to countless lives, so you…”

“Heh, that’s a matter I had to face… but it’s not the reason.” Ning Yi shook his head slightly. “The reason is… when we were on the run, there were people going hungry, nearly starving to death — there was… a very small little girl… and Qian Xiwen, and the deaths of several of his family’s children… Heh, I’m not made of stone. Often, I find myself feeling pity, feeling that I can’t just stand by and watch — and when I can’t stand by, I want to do whatever’s within my power. In truth, at every point, when you love the people around you, love your country, whatever it may be — it’s never without reason. There has to be something worth it. If everyone around me were the kind of villains found at Liangshan, if everyone were the kind of hopeless, detestable trash that could never be redeemed — then what would it matter if the Liao marched south? If they all died, I wouldn’t even blink…”

“And then… I couldn’t stand by and watch anymore…”

Ning Yi closed his eyes, and after a while, opened them again. “You… what happened to you, I couldn’t stand by and watch. I like you a great deal, I think you’re wonderful — but those two days in the forest, I thought about a great many things. When I saw you eating that raw, uncooked food… I couldn’t just watch. It’s not pity — don’t think… that I pity you. I’m just deeply moved. Toward you. The world shouldn’t be like this…”

Hongti began to cry. Ning Yi fell silent for a moment, feeling his thoughts reaching the edge of what he could hold onto.

“I once asked you what you wanted — you were teaching me martial arts, and you said, to bring peace to all under heaven for ten thousand generations. Back then that was just a joke, but now it’s different… I want you. Whether you’re happy or not, you’re mine — but I want to try to make you happy. So I want to ask you… I’ll ask you again…”

Ning Yi lifted his arm slightly, turning his head to look at her, giving a weak, faint smile.

“I want to ask you… what do you want? What would make you happy — no matter how large the wish…”

His voice grew faint. Against the window frame, the silhouette of a woman softly weeping showed through, the faint sound seeming to rise on the wind.

“Tell me, and I’ll go get it for you. I’ll tie a ribbon around it… and bring it to you.”

“…I think I need to sleep for a bit… don’t leave… alright?”

…

Time passed slowly in the gentle caress of the night wind. Ning Yi drifted in and out of consciousness — the strain on his spirit had left him mentally weakened, and in his hazy state, something like dependence crept in. Each time he woke, whenever the thought surfaced in his mind, he would invariably check whether Hongti was still there — though in this state, even he himself might have been somewhat confused about it. Once Hongti finished easing the flow of his blood and energy, she urged him to settle his mind and not think too much, but Ning Yi only shook his head, refusing, pulling at her clothes. After this happened several times, Hongti finally removed her shoes and stockings and lay down beside him on the inner side of the bed, to prove to him: I’m not going anywhere.

But by this point, Ning Yi himself likely didn’t fully know what he was doing. Waking now from what was perhaps only a blurred, deep layer of consciousness, remembering only not to let Hongti leave, yet with the domineering nature carried over from his past life still present in his temperament, after waking twice more, he began undoing Hongti’s clothes. His reasoning — strip her completely naked, throw her clothes away, and then she can’t leave.

Though Hongti was compliant with him for the time being, she was still, in the end, shy about such a thing. When Ning Yi, half-conscious, reached for her, murmuring incoherently, all she could do was carefully hold him close, cheek against cheek, body against body, promising over and over that she wouldn’t leave again. And once she understood his intent, her cheeks burning hot, all she could do was rub them against his face as best she could, suppressing herself…

After a long while, Ning Yi finally fell into true, deep sleep. After that, the sky gradually brightened, and it was not until noon that day that Ning Yi finally woke. Hongti was still there beside him, massaging and easing the blood flow in his head. Amid the comfortable sensation, Ning Yi fell asleep once more, not waking again until that afternoon, nearly evening.

His face was pale, his body without much strength, his mind unable to fully concentrate, but at least he could walk by now. That night, they stayed another night at the post station; Hongti kept watch in Ning Yi’s room, quietly slipping away only at dawn to return to the room she had booked for herself the day before. She had already promised not to leave again, but given their standing as master and disciple, there was still a limit to how openly they could carry on. A day later, the group returned to Yiyuan County. Hongti had by then resumed her role as “master” on the surface, adopting the bearing of a grandmaster, wearing a cold, distant expression in front of others, keeping to propriety in public — but behind closed doors, her ease and warmth with Ning Yi had grown far greater than before.

With the knot between them now loosened, even ordinary days felt far happier than before. Ning Yi still had injuries that needed time to heal, and could not overexert himself physically or mentally, so he set aside whatever social obligations he could. Even when Ning Yi wasn’t around, Hongti, sitting alone on the courtyard railing, or going out to wander the surrounding area, found that everything seemed full of vitality.

When she had first come down from the mountain, she had come with the mindset that “after this, I’ll never see him again,” and had once even imagined something happening between herself and Ning Yi. But once she had taken on the role of “master,” and after being counseled by Zhou Tong, she had ultimately felt that letting anything happen would only bring heartbreak. Now, with the knot between them resolved, she found she no longer thought much about whether such a relationship should happen. Ning Yi’s methods that night had been rough, though ordinarily he was quite mindful of boundaries — only when no one else was around would this formidable grandmaster-level woman fighter find herself pressed against a wall, kissed on the lips, unable to resist. If anyone approached at such moments, Hongti would have to straighten her clothes and put on her thoroughly proper, cold expression again.

Sometimes Ning Yi would take Hongti to a clothing shop, picking out dresses more befitting her status as a grandmaster and martial arts master — his ideas were often rather strange, and Hongti had no way to object, having no choice but to let him have his way.

And in truth, both of them knew that once this stretch of time had passed, another long separation might well lie ahead.

Every night, Hongti would still work Ning Yi’s meridians to help his body recover. After several days of this, Ning Yi’s health gradually improved. He then gathered everyone together and traveled to Wurui Camp to take charge of the Liangshan surrendered soldiers who had killed three or more men during the campaign and had been held back. Meanwhile, the outlaw world of Jizhou was plunged into vast chaos.

For the few Liangshan remnants who had managed to escape by luck, what they now faced was the true collapse of a falling wall, with everyone rushing to push it down further. Wurui Camp and the men of Dulong Ridge, mobilizing in force, combined with the cooperation of the local authorities, drove many to the point of having nowhere left to turn — and when a man has nowhere left to turn, capturing a Liangshan man to hand over as a token of surrender naturally raises one’s own chances of survival considerably.

At noon this day, along the banks of the Yellow River, eight or nine men burst fighting out of a forest.

The one being chased in front was a man covered head to toe in wounds, wielding a wooden staff, warding off the seven or eight men pursuing him from behind as he fled. Among the pursuers, someone shouted: “Kill him! He’s at the end of his strength—”

“He’s been to the Su family’s estate! Take his head and we’ll get our reward—”

“Lin Chong, you’re about to die anyway — why not do one good deed? Give your head to your grandfather here, and I’ll make sure you’re given a proper burial…”

The one being chased ahead was none other than Lin Chong. Ever since his encounter with Zhou Tong, he had left Yiyuan in a daze, never meeting up with Shi Jin and the others as they’d previously arranged. He had simply wandered, lost and despondent, not even entirely sure himself where he was headed — and then… he had been spotted.

With Liangshan destroyed and Song Jiang dead, Yunzhou and Jizhou were both carrying out sweeping purges with great fanfare, and every outlaw with any connection to Liangshan lived in constant fear. He had evaded two attempts on his life already, but this time, those seeking to kill him were themselves Liangshan deserters fleeing the pursuit of government troops. Once the two groups had crossed paths, in the dead of night they had tried to secretly seize Lin Chong, intending to turn him in for the reward and cleanse their own crimes in the process. Lin Chong had taken several blade wounds and fled along the way. Chased and fleeing like this, he had reached the banks of the Yellow River, and bursting out of the forest, found a cliff ahead of him.

Lin Chong clenched his jaw, turned, and swung his staff, forcing back the first man to rush at him, then the second, the third, the fourth… one after another closing in around him.

Not far from the cliff along the riverbank, a figure wielding a staff burst out of the forest. “Brother Lin— how dare you—”

Lin Chong turned his head; the man who had appeared among the trees was Shi Jin.

After being separated from Lin Chong, Shi Jin had been searching for him all this while, and having finally found his trail, was now rushing toward him — but at that very moment, Lin Chong’s distraction cost him, and he took a blade cut.

He forced himself to grab hold of the man’s body, preventing a second strike, but something swung through the air ahead and struck him on the head. He staggered back several steps — beneath his feet, a cliff.

As though a gust of wind had passed through, his footing remained steady; one foot had stepped out slightly, but he could still pull it back in time. Lin Chong thought to pull it back — but for some reason, his step hesitated, just for an instant.

The wind howled. He held onto the man who had cut him, looking upward — the sky, the white clouds, the cliff face, his enemies… everything shrinking away.

With a thud, Lin Chong’s figure fell into the turbulent, rushing waters of the Yellow River below, and vanished from sight. Shi Jin stood frozen for a moment, then finally gripped his staff tight and charged forward at the men on the cliff above — men who had once been his comrades — his furious roar echoing between the wild forest and the great river.

“I… will kill you all—”

The cool autumn day stretched on, thin clouds scattered, the sky high and clear…