Ye Feishuang had been bedridden for more than a year.
On this day, her spirits were suddenly remarkably high.
Not only could she get out of bed, but she also found the strength to dress and groom herself.
From the bottom of a chest, she unearthed a crimson silk skirt woven with gold thread from over ten years ago, and she bound her hair with her only remaining gold hairpin.
Ye Feishuang stood before the mirror.
The woman in the reflection was haggard and emaciated, tortured by illness. Her collarbones protruded as if they might burst through her skin, her face was a sickly grey-green, and her hair was dry and yellowed. She looked utterly devoid of life.
Yet, Ye Feishuang managed a small smile.
In the fifteen years she had known Chen Yan, this was the first time she had dressed according to her own tastes, rather than constantly trying to cater to his preference for simple elegance.
Wind and snow battered the doorframe.
Ye Feishuang walked into the courtyard, watching the swirling snowflakes. It occurred to her that it had also been winter when she first met Chen Yan.
Her third elder sister had claimed her bracelet had fallen into the lake and ordered Ye Feishuang to go down and find it.
When she refused, she was pushed in.
The lake water in winter was bone-chilling, as if thousands of needles were piercing her body.
Of course, she couldn’t find the non-existent bracelet, and those people blocked the shore so she couldn’t climb out.
The fine-clothed young lords and ladies enjoyed her plight, as if her shivering, drowned-rat appearance was more entertaining than the opera stage nearby.
Suddenly, the laughter vanished, and the surroundings fell silent.
A slender hand reached out to Ye Feishuang, followed by a gentle voice: “Come up.”
Ye Feishuang looked up, and an elegant, handsome face met her eyes.
Though her body was nearly frozen stiff, she felt the ice around her heart begin to melt.
As an unfavored daughter of a concubine in a prestigious household—one who had been raised in the countryside—Ye Feishuang had been bullied relentlessly since being brought back to the family.
This was the first time someone had helped her.
While she was dazed, Chen Yan’s warm palm gripped her wrist and pulled her ashore. He wrapped her in his crane-skin cloak and led her away under the stunned gazes of the crowd.
In the warm pavilion, the brazier burned brightly. Once she had recovered, Chen Yan finally spoke: “I am of the Yingchuan Chen clan, the third son. My name is Yan.”
Ye Feishuang let out a soft “ah.” Her flushed cheeks turned even redder as she whispered, “The gentleman I am betrothed to… seems to have that name as well.”
Chen Yan looked at her and gave a light chuckle. “It is indeed I.”
Ye Feishuang’s face felt like it was on fire. She lowered her eyelashes, not daring to meet his gaze. her heart beat so fast her hands began to tremble.
Even within the depths of the mansion, she had heard of her fiancé’s accomplishments.
Everyone praised him as a star of literature descended from heaven. He had become a scholar at ten and passed the provincial exams at thirteen; he was expected to become the youngest person to achieve the Triple First Place in the history of the Great Zhao Dynasty.
But she hadn’t known that Chen Yan was also this handsome, and this gentle.
Chen Yan had also said, “Once we are married, no one will dare to bully you again.”
“You are willing to marry me?” Ye Feishuang asked in surprise. “But others say that as a concubine’s daughter, I am not a worthy match for you.”
Chen Yan knelt before her, his gentle eyes gazing into hers. He said, “Do not listen to what others say. I think you are wonderful, and more than worthy.”
Ye Feishuang’s stagnant heart came back to life, beating so violently it nearly burst through her chest.
She thought that if she could end up with this man, then all the suffering she had endured before was actually nothing at all.
But it was also Chen Yan who, on the eve of their wedding, framed her for committing adultery with another man, ruining her reputation and forcing her to become nothing more than his mistress.
Before she knew the truth, Ye Feishuang viewed him as her lifeline, her everything.
She depended on him, followed him, and loved him deeply. She carved herself into the shape he preferred, living as his shadow, seemingly forgetting who she was meant to be.
The love that had sprouted at their first meeting had grown over the years, sinking into the marrow of her bones, making it impossible for her to even hate him.
She didn’t know why Chen Yan treated her this way.
If he didn’t want to marry her, why couldn’t he have just broken the engagement early on? Why did he have to ruin her to such an extent?
She no longer wanted to investigate. She only blamed herself for misjudging him and loving the wrong person.
Her heart felt as if it were being squeezed and torn by a hand. The agonizing pain pulled Ye Feishuang back from her memories to reality.
She heard the courtyard gate being pushed open.
After so many years together, even the sound of Chen Yan’s footsteps was etched into her soul.
He walked quickly, wearing a jade-white crane-skin cloak. Tall and elegant, he stepped inside like an immortal descending to earth.
His clear, gentle eyes froze when he saw Ye Feishuang standing under the old plum tree.
In all their years together, he had never seen Ye Feishuang wear such a vibrant color.
It turned out that red suited her beautifully.
The two looked at each other across the wind and snow.
Ye Feishuang suddenly began to cough, a streak of bright red leaking from the corner of her lips.
Chen Yan’s heart tightened. He immediately rushed over, but just as he was about to support her, Ye Feishuang curtsied and addressed him: “My Lord.”
Chen Yan’s hand grasped empty air.
He thought of the past. Every time he came to this small courtyard, Ye Feishuang would hear the commotion and run out of the room, throwing herself into his arms like a light bird.
She used to call him her dear Chen, or Brother Yan, or by his courtesy name, Jianshen—but she had never called him “My Lord.”
He had once scoffed at her lack of etiquette, and she would puff out her cheeks and make a face at him, refusing to change.
Now that she followed the rules, his heart felt hollow.
The person he had shared a bed with for eleven years suddenly felt very, very far away.
Ye Feishuang swayed and leaned against the old plum tree.
Chen Yan immediately went over to hold her, taking off his cloak and wrapping it tightly around her, as if he could keep what was fading away within his embrace.
His voice was still as pleasant as ever. “Why have you come out in such a heavy snowstorm? If you wanted to admire the plums, you could have had a servant cut a branch for a vase.”
“My Lord, I do not like admiring plum blossoms,” Ye Feishuang said. “I am not well-educated; I do not have such refined tastes.”
Chen Yan froze. This seemed to be the first time Ye Feishuang had ever said the words “I do not like.”
Chen Yan took Ye Feishuang’s cold, thin hand. “Then we won’t admire them. Let’s go back to the room.”
“The room is too stifling,” Ye Feishuang shook her head. “My Lord, I have been trapped in that room for eleven years. I do not want to die inside it.”
Stung by the word “die,” Chen Yan’s expression changed abruptly. “Do not speak nonsense. You are still so young; you will not die. I have already sent someone to summon the Imperial Physician…”
“Yes, I am not yet thirty, but I feel as though I have lived a very, very long life. Days spent with one’s life in another’s hands are truly too long, too hard to endure.”
Ye Feishuang began to cough again. This time, the blood flowed freely, and she could not wipe it away.
Chen Yan usually kept his emotions hidden, but now he could not mask his panic.
“My Lord, I beg one thing of you,” Ye Feishuang said. “After I die, scatter my ashes. I haven’t stepped foot out of this small courtyard in eleven years. After I’m dead, I want to go and see the world.”
If she had any other choice, she wouldn’t have begged Chen Yan.
But she was imprisoned here, with no family and no friends. She saw no one but him.
Ye Feishuang sighed. How had her life turned out like this?
After the moment of terminal lucidity came immense pain; the feeling of life slipping away was far too clear.
But she wasn’t afraid at all; she even felt a touch of pleasant relief at her impending liberation.
“My Lord, do you know? Before I was brought back to the Zheng family, my home was in the mountains. Every spring and summer, the mountains were filled with green as far as the eye could see. Once, I saw a beautiful cloud, and I rode a horse with my foster father to chase it. We chased it for so, so long until the horse was exhausted, but we couldn’t catch it. The sky was too big, and the earth was too big. It wasn’t like here, where everything is square.”
“I don’t like it here. I want to go back to my home in the mountains.”
“In this life, from the moment I left home, I have made too many mistakes.”
Ye Feishuang felt warm water falling onto her face.
But she no longer had the strength to open her eyes.
“My foster father said that girls should learn martial arts so they won’t be bullied. But after I returned to the Zheng family, I gave it up. I thought that if I did what those people said and became a lady, I could marry a good husband and live a peaceful, smooth life… It turns out I was wrong.”
“I thought that the Three Obediences and Four Virtues, and putting you above all else, was the right way. It turns out that was also wrong.”
“But my greatest mistake was loving you, My Lord. I placed too much weight on you and lost myself.”
“If there is a next life, I hope to never meet you again.”
“Then, I will wear red, ride a swift horse, and brandish a long spear. I will go to many places. I will not be anyone’s wife or anyone’s mistress. I will be Ye Feishuang—free and unrestrained, crying when I want to cry and laughing when I want to laugh.”
As she exhaled her final breath, her senses gradually faded. Ye Feishuang’s soul seemed to rise, and everything else became distant.
She saw Chen Yan leaning against the old plum tree, clutching her body tightly, his face buried in the crook of her neck. His back shook; he seemed to be crying.
He was speaking, but Ye Feishuang could no longer hear what he was saying.
She no longer wished to think about the love and hate entangled between her and Chen Yan.
Her ridiculous, absurd life had finally come to an end.