Xu Qiaoxi, for—
Coming out of Red Jade Terrace, the wet snow on the bluestone path had mostly melted in the twilight, forming small puddles in places. Xie Jilian looked down and saw himself everywhere.
Those tiny, real reflections were like the Underworld Soldiers underground, silently surrounding him in a tight circle. Xie Jilian suddenly stopped, afraid to take another step.
The wet snow had long stopped falling.
Today wasn't even particularly cold.
But he insisted on draping the silver-threaded fox fur over Xu Qiaoxi. He wanted her to walk out still wrapped in him.
All sorts of people outside—as long as they saw the fox fur on Xu Qiaoxi, they would know there was someone behind her.
At any time, anywhere, he attached himself to her through the eyes and words of others.
Like a wrongfully dead soul stubbornly clinging to the murderer who killed him.
But what had Xu Qiaoxi killed of his? Xie Jilian savored the thought and found not a single crime against her.
She thought she was a cuckoo occupying a magpie's nest, enjoying his support without earning it, owing him a debt. Xie Jilian didn't see it that way. He did it willingly.
Even keeping a bird requires feeding it.
Besides, feeding itself was one of the pleasures of the one in power.
But now his pleasure was gone.
She said she wanted to leave—angry and resolute. Only at that moment did Xie Jilian truly feel that Xu Qiaoxi had struck him.
She had set free everything he kept—his possessiveness, his destructiveness, his cruelty—all of it flew away, and he hadn't caught a single one.
Who let her open the cage? Who gave her permission?
Xie Jilian turned back coldly. The lush camellia leaves of Red Jade Terrace looked like a frozen green sea. Scattered wet snow clung to the leaves, on the verge of melting but not quite, looking somewhat bedraggled in the gloomy twilight.
If only it really were a sea.
Trap Xu Qiaoxi to death, drown her—then she could never leave again.
Doesn't the Classic of Mountains and Seas record the tale of "Jingwei"? That bird's soul, bound by hatred, was entangled with the sea for eternity.
The ultimate possession. The most eternal conquest.
A flash of inspiration struck, and Xie Jilian suddenly realized why something had felt wrong during their argument.
He wanted Xu Qiaoxi to be completely, utterly his. Whether fragile or broken, it should all come from him, arise because of him—like when she was gravely ill, all her emotions clinging to him, not crying and struggling to break free of him.
His chest heaved unevenly. A fire rolled down from his throat, burning into his stomach. Xie Jilian heard his ribs and spine sizzling, his limbs and torso trembling from the heat.
An excitement pulled at him. He broke into a run, splashing through puddles, trampling his own reflection into fragments.
He ran straight back to his courtyard in one breath, rushing into the study. A treasured sword hung on the wall.
A gentleman wears a sword to display his virtue. It had hung there for years as a ceremonial ornament.
Xie Jilian stood before the sword, panting heavily. He had run too fast; a taste like rust rose in his throat. He gripped the hilt and drew the long blade.
With a sharp rasp, the gleaming blade cast a streak of white light on the ground.
Like a white serpent crouching, coldly awaiting hot blood.
Sword tip pointing at the ground, Xie Jilian turned and left, heading straight back to Red Jade Terrace.
He would kill Xu Qiaoxi with his own hands.
There was no reason to keep imprisoning her—so better to turn Xu Qiaoxi into a Dark Ghost following him.
Whether she was an innocent, obedient young woman or a ferocious, hateful specter, Xie Jilian didn't care—as long as she satisfied his twisted desires.
Xu Qiaoxi had come to his side all alone—wasn't that heaven's blessing?
Heaven wanted him to understand this once and for all: only death is complete submission.
The noble clans' methods of manipulating hearts were outdated, like a water clock that had dripped dry, no longer making a sound.
Death, death, entangling and being entangled…
Xie Jilian walked through the cold wind, sword in hand, spirits high. The jade-white skin of his face emitted a steady stream of heat, steaming him translucent all over. His brows and eyes rippled with a seductive ferocity, like a Mountain Ghost or Wild Demon that had feasted on hearts and bones.
His steps grew faster and faster, as if an invisible thread tied around his waist was eagerly, joyfully pulling him toward Red Jade Terrace.
The dense, sea-like camellia leaves writhed in his vision, as if scorched by the blazing summer sun. Every leaf trembled, murmured, whispering urgently in words he couldn't understand.
Red Jade Terrace grew restless, transforming in the darkening light into a bizarre, clamorous, abandoned haunted grave.
Xie Jilian stood by the vermilion window, his gaze slipping through the narrow gap. His amber pupils watched without moving.
When he saw Xu Qiaoxi, a sharp pain suddenly throbbed at his temple. The noise around him grew louder and louder.
So loud he felt dizzy and nauseous, sharp ringing piercing his ears in waves.
His palm gripped the long sword tightly, but the strange clamor drained his strength. He could only drag it along the ground, the tip making faint clinking sounds.
Through the window crack, Xu Qiaoxi was crouched on the floor with Lu Yun and Lan Yan, gathering up the scattered silks and satins.
Lu Yun placed the folded fabric on her lap, then turned her head to wipe her tears with her shoulder. Lan Yan sobbed, hurling a bolt of goose-yellow silk to the ground in frustration.
"Why do you have to leave? What are you and the young master even fighting about?"
She pouted, then burst into tears. "You're so simple-minded—how will you survive out there…"
Xu Qiaoxi watched her cry and felt like crying too, her nose stinging. But the road was her own choice—even if it was hard to walk, she had to walk it.
She stiffened her neck and swallowed back the tears, handing the folded silk to Lu Yun as she took Lan Yan's arm.
"How could I not survive? I have all my limbs, I can read and I can work—I'll manage to scrape by somehow."
Having lived under the same roof for so long, Lu Yun and Lan Yan were the ones Xu Qiaoxi worried about most.
"As for you two… if Luoyang ever falls, the Xie family will have no choice but to leave. When that time comes, be careful, be strong—there will be hope for better days."
Their eyes reddened as they nodded at her.
Once Xu Qiaoxi left, heading south with the Wang family to find a new path, the three of them might never see each other again for the rest of their lives.
The days of bickering and laughter flowed away like water, and all Xu Qiaoxi could do was urge them to be careful, ever so careful, in the upheavals ahead.
She was a language major, yet at this moment she felt language so utterly inadequate—it couldn't express even a fraction of what she felt.
So this was the chaotic age written about in history books.
The bonds between people were like drifting duckweed—brushing past each other lightly in the torrent of the times, then going their separate ways, never to look back.
Tears the size of beans burst from her eyes and fell onto the silk without a sound.
"I'll never meet better friends than you!"
"Without you, I wouldn't even know who I am anymore!"
Xu Qiaoxi had held back her tears at first for pride's sake, but once she started crying, she cried louder than anyone. Lu Yun and Lan Yan were startled at first, then broke into laughter through their tears.
Lan Yan said, "Who said anything about being friends with you? I'm only crying because I won't get to share your candied crab and fine fabrics anymore. A different mistress would be the same…"
No—a different mistress wouldn't be the same at all.
Lan Yan had been smiling, but suddenly her heart ached sharply. She couldn't fool herself any longer, and before she finished speaking, she was sobbing along with Xu Qiaoxi.
"Hey…"
Lu Yun stood helpless before the two of them, tears welling in her eyes.
The window quietly slid shut. Xie Jilian leaned against the wall, his body drained of strength, using his long sword as a walking staff to support himself.
While Xu Qiaoxi was crying, that strange, irritating noise in his ears fell silent in an instant.
He was consumed with agitation, wanting to rush in and demand of her: What about him?
Did she have nothing to say to him?
He had said in a fit of pique that they weren't friends—so did she truly not care about him at all?
Xu Qiaoxi, why must you be so heartless toward me alone?
He couldn't help but examine himself—was there anything he had done wrong to her?
Clearly, whatever she wanted, he gave her; whatever she didn't want, he'd still scrounge up for her. Yet she was willing to go out and suffer hardship instead…
It was because she was lowly, unworthy of his condescending kindness.
Xie Jilian's furrowed brow relaxed in an instant. This answer brought him immense comfort.
But the next moment, a helplessness and resentment like drowning swept over Xie Jilian, and he nearly lost his grip on his sword.
He had stooped to hold her up on a pedestal, and she couldn't even leave him a single kind word?!
His heart spasmed erratically. Xie Jilian clutched his chest, his body trembling against the wall.
In all his life, he had never felt this emotion—it was like anger, but really it was "grievance."
But Xie Jilian was utterly unfamiliar with grievance. He thought and thought but couldn't understand why it hurt so much.
Suddenly, a clear thought leapt into his mind—kill her. If he killed her, he wouldn't hurt anymore.
Xie Jilian traced his hand along the wall, his figure drifting past the window like a specter.
His peripheral vision swept over the shadow on the window, and his unsteady steps halted abruptly.
On the mountain path behind Chujia Villa, those flickering leaf shadows interwoven with sunlight seemed to fall back across his face.
He imitated Xu Qiaoxi, closing his eyes and tilting his face up, catching the scent of spring on the mountain path.
He also imitated her swinging her feet and kicking at her skirts, under the moonlight… under the moonlight…
Blood.
Sweet blood.
His Adam's apple swallowed unconsciously. Xie Jilian's breathing came in uneven bursts, and the hand tracing the wall gradually moved to his own abdomen.
He had tasted her blood—not much, but enough to unsettle Xie Jilian's mind.
Her blood had mingled with his body. If he killed her, would he also be killing a part of himself?
He did resent Xu Qiaoxi for casting him aside. But if she had rotted away in Red Jade Terrace from the start, becoming one of the countless camellias there, unfurling and closing with an air of exquisite decay—would he still have found her interesting?
Women in the deep mansions had only two paths. Either like Wang Mu'ai—becoming an idol on a shrine too early, her life bound to the family, as empty as a coffin.
Or like Wang Yizhi and her mother—going mad, cursing heaven and earth, torn between self and family duty, causing a city-wide uproar, and finally taking monastic vows, scaring the son so badly he never dared to marry.
Recalling these dramas, Xie Jilian let out a silent scoff.
Seen that way, Xu Qiaoxi wasn't stupid after all.
Xie Jilian was inexplicably pleased, laughing aloud in delight. His heart immediately clenched—worried that Xu Qiaoxi might discover someone outside the door wanted to kill her.
But the scene before him was not Red Jade Terrace.
He had already left with his sword at some point without realizing it. Now that he was lucid again, he found himself already at the flower hall.
It was the same flower hall where he had first met Xu Qiaoxi.
The sky had darkened, the light dim. Xie Jilian groped his way inside, set down his long sword, and knelt before the incense table as if his soul had left him.
"Miss need not be reserved—Lian is very easy to get along with."
He spoke in a gentle voice, but before him, there was nothing at all.
That foolish girl—she had been used and didn't even know it. He had changed her clothes only to make Princess Xincheng fly into a rage and abandon the plan to marry into the Xie family.
From his very first words, he had been deceiving Xu Qiaoxi.
His face suddenly itched, as if a tiny flying insect had landed on it. Xie Jilian touched it—it was wet.
In the dimness, no one knew a single tear had fallen from him. He lowered his hand as if he couldn't care less, and it happened to brush against the blade at his side.
Xie Jilian let out a soft gasp, a surprised hiss between his teeth.
He was bleeding.
He found it strangely fascinating. He raised the back of his hand, pinched the skin with his fingertips and squeezed—a bead of blood welled up.
Did this count as evil reaping its reward? Xie Jilian's lips twitched into a smile, then immediately fell.
It did. It surely did. Xu Qiaoxi was taking revenge on him—she had deliberately pushed him away, abandoned him, to repay him for his sharp-tongued malice, his cold-blooded scheming…
As he sat in stillness, a Dark Ghost that could not bear the light was born in Xie Jilian's heart—he hated Xu Qiaoxi. He hated her for ruining him, for mocking him, for making him come with his sword and leave with his sword, slinking away like a beaten dog, drifting alone like a wandering soul.
He did not know how long passed before another set of footsteps suddenly sounded.
Xie Jilian's eyes lit up sharply, then returned to calm once he saw who it was.
Wei Zhao lowered his hands in a salute. "Why has the young master not ordered the lamps lit?"
"Darkness suits me fine. It's noisy out there."
Noisy?
Wei Zhao's brow furrowed in confusion—when the snow melted, all was utterly silent.
He wisely realized the young master was in a bad mood and said no more. In the darkness, he reported, "I was delayed at the Henan Prefect's office. By the time I rushed over, he had mistaken the person he was supposed to meet and got tangled up with the Wang family."
"Tch."
Xie Jilian pressed his brow in irritation. "Fool."
"But it's nothing serious. I'll go find him another day."
Wei Zhao was cautious with his words and did not mention that Xu Qiaoxi had given the man a ring.
Since the young master was in a bad mood, it was better to say less.
Xie Jilian did not see Xu Qiaoxi for quite some time. He seemed to be avoiding her, and he did not send Yu Pu to inquire about her either—he simply acted as if Qianchuan Spring Creek had no such person at all.
It was not until one day, when he returned from court, that Yu Pu hesitantly presented something to him. Only then did Xie Jilian hear him say, "Young master, Miss Xu left today. She asked me to give this to you."
In his palm lay a small porcelain jar.
"Miss Xu said that even if the young master is angry with her, he should still take care of himself. The road ahead is long, and if the chance ever comes, she will surely repay the young master for this year's kindness."
Xie Jilian's spine went rigid.
How hypocritical of her.
Someone so heartless and faithless—talking about repaying kindness?
A nameless fury rose in his chest. He took the porcelain jar, stepped past the railing of the corridor, walked to the rockery in the pavilion, pressed his left hand flat against it, and raised the jar in his right hand, smashing it down hard against his little finger.
Once. Twice. Three times…
Yu Pu was scared out of his wits. He rushed over to stop Xie Jilian, but it was already too late.
On the little finger, red, purple, and blue bruises tangled together in a mess. His skin was naturally fair, making the bruising all the more shocking.
Xie Jilian let out a breath of pent-up frustration, raised his left hand, and looked at it appreciatively in the brilliant spring light.
She left just like that, leaving him alone to chew on his anger and resentment day and night?
Take care of himself… He wouldn't.
The Dark Ghost born in his heart grew day by day, gradually consuming Xie Jilian's entire heart.
Was she the only one allowed to take revenge?
Xie Jilian looked at the bruise on his finger and sneered coldly.
Then he would take revenge on her too—make her feel guilty toward him, make her unable to find peace at the mere sight of him, her heart and lungs tormented.