A-Pan felt a wave of inexplicable sorrow surge over her like a mountain collapsing into the sea, sweeping her entirely into its depths, leaving her dazed and unable to collect herself.
This was the first time Xiao Yannian had referred to himself as “the sovereign” in front of her.
After the fall of Zhongshan Guo, there was no longer a king, and thus no longer a “sovereign.”
They had concealed their identities, working in Zhongshan Gudi with the aim of preserving their nation’s rites, restoring their ancestral temples, and allowing the people of Zhongshan to stand tall once more—which was why she had never heard him call himself “the sovereign.”
So much had happened that night, one thing after another—killing the king-father, slaying the master, breaking the jade, the interrogation, the slap, the criminal subject—and now, because of a crime she knew nothing about, even her master had turned against her.
Yes, the moment the skin at her neck was broken, Xiao Yannian had drawn a line between them, creating a rift.
She stared blankly at her master.
At this moment, her master’s gaze was frosted over, cold and devoid of any emotion, as he looked at her with indifference.
A-Pan’s heart rose and fell, tossing and turning, as she racked her mind for an answer but found none.
What crime could her father have committed?
Her father had died long ago; she could barely remember his face anymore, let alone what crimes he might have committed.
Her adoptive father had merely been a tutor, occasionally serving as a guest scholar in Lingshou. She had never seen her family’s household confiscated or their clan exterminated—they had simply fled when the wars began.
If it were merely a wrongful accusation or a minor offense… then… then there might still be a way to salvage it.
But if it were only a wrongful accusation or a minor offense, why would it provoke such fury in him?
The fireworks gradually subsided, but the snow on New Year’s Eve fell heavier. It was bitterly cold, and her soaked robes made her shiver uncontrollably.
Tears streaming down her face, amidst the tangled chaos of her thoughts, A-Pan tried to grasp Xiao Yannian’s sleeve, to seize his hand, begging him to soften his heart, to remember some of her good qualities, to grant her a little warmth. “Master… what crime did my father commit?”
If he did not answer, she would call out to him again and again, tears rolling faster than she could wipe them away. “Master… Master…”
Through the blur of tears, through the shattered light, she could see the man before her with sharply defined brows, carrying a biting coldness.
That man was proud, aloof, and cold-hearted.
That man’s eyes held a disgust and contempt she had never seen before. “The crime of treason and betrayal.”
A-Pan’s blood drained from her face, tears bursting from her eyes.
Treason and betrayal—betraying Xiao Yannian’s nation.
How could she bear such a charge?
A-Pan stood frozen, desolation flooding her eyes, her breath hot and bitter. A single line of tears slid down her cheek, and once it began, it could not be stopped.
The man before her wore a cold, stern expression, his gaze indifferent, already preparing to leave. “The daughter of a criminal, knowing nothing of righteousness, is unworthy to remain in Qianjimen. Sell her to the slave market—let her be a prostitute again.”
“Master!”
A-Pan’s heart ached with shock and terror. She scrambled forward on her knees and threw her arms around his leg.
“Master! Master, don’t sell A-Pan!”
“Master… A-Pan will atone for her father’s crimes! A-Pan will atone for her father’s crimes… A-Pan will go to Wei Guo, to be your blade… to be your blade…”
It was hard to leave one’s homeland, hard to abandon one’s ancestral temples. Protecting one’s country and defending one’s home—that was never wrong.
She understood all the reasoning, but she simply did not want to live a life scraping by at the edge of a blade.
She begged, pleaded, sobbed, and wept bitterly.
Her voice broke into incoherence, her words losing all form.
That crying, that pleading, gradually faded into the sudden burst of fireworks, growing softer and softer. “Master… Master, don’t sell A-Pan… Master…”
But that man—even though he did not kick her away, his words held not a shred of affection. “A spy must learn to save herself. If she cannot save herself, she should end her own life. You should remember—begging others is the most useless thing of all.”
Yes, she had learned this long ago. A spy’s fate had only two paths.
If you cannot save yourself, you end yourself.
The snow at year’s end fell endlessly, the fine flakes pelting and striking her, leaving her eyes and heart frozen cold.
Her heart was full of melancholy, a hundred flavors churning within, pressing down layer upon layer, then bursting apart again.
Pressed down, bursting apart again, pressed down, bursting apart—she floated and drowned in these emotions, floated and drowned again, until her mind went blank and she stopped thinking altogether.
She was still standing there in a daze when Xiao Yannian gave the order. “Take her back to the sect. Let her reflect in Jinguansiguo.”
He had softened somewhat, after all—he had not sold her.
Reflecting in Jinguansiguo—that was fine, that was fine. He was willing to keep her. Whatever he did with her was better than being sold.
She was led out in a daze by Lu Shang and Meng Yafu. The moment the door opened, a flurry of snow rushed in, and her soaked robes instantly froze her entire body.
She shivered in the snow, but even that could not compare to the cold in her heart.
She was taken out of the post station and shoved into a carriage.
It was the same carriage that had brought them here, but on the return journey, it was locked.
The biting winter wind seeped in inch by inch, penetrating every fiber of her bones.
A-Pan stared blankly through the carriage window toward the building above. A thick layer of snow had piled up on the railing.
Meanwhile, Xiao Yannian stood in the snow on the terrace, coughing now and then, and did not go inside for a long time.
Occasionally, fireworks burst into bloom, casting shifting, uncertain colors across his face. When the fireworks died out, even that fleeting color vanished.
The moonlight was like silver as a swiftly galloping carriage cut across the snow-covered ground.
The tall figure on the terrace gradually grew smaller in the snow, slowly becoming a black dot in the night until it could no longer be seen.
A-Pan wept silently.
She remembered the first time she had boarded the carriage, when Xiao Yannian, seeing that she was cold, had given her a heavy cloak.
She had treasured that cloak dearly, wrapping it around herself all day long.
Later, Lu Shang had snatched the cloak away, but Xiao Yannian had still treated her well.
Now, on this even colder New Year’s Eve, she was being taken away, soaked to the bone, and that man no longer had any pity for her, nor would he ever give her a warm cloak again.
As soon as she returned to Qianjimen, she was dragged into a secret chamber and nailed into a coffin.
Meng Yafu sighed softly. “Just think of yourself as dead. What you should do and what you shouldn’t do—think it through clearly while you’re in the coffin.”
Lu Shang sneered coldly. “Why waste words with her, Senior Brother Meng? She’s a useless piece of trash, and the daughter of a criminal, to boot. She should have died long ago.”
The long nails were hammered in one after another, making the coffin boom and thud. As she watched the sliver of light in the cracks disappear inch by inch, A-Pan’s heart sank inch by inch along with it.
She had few memories of her childhood, but she vaguely remembered that when she was very young, she had seen many people nail her father’s coffin shut like this. As the nails fell, her living, breathing father was gone forever.
Not long after, she had seen people nail her mother’s coffin shut as well.
By then, there were few people around, and the coffin was thin and flimsy. Once the person was inside and the nails were driven in, her living, breathing mother was gone forever.
A-Pan didn’t remember how old she had been then. She only remembered her foster mother holding her tightly in her arms, covering her eyes and covering her ears, not letting her look, not letting her listen, not letting her think.
How could such a father and mother, such a foster father and foster mother, have committed the crime of colluding with the enemy and betraying their country?
She had been kept in the dark, living simply, without even a hint of wind or a trace of rumor reaching her.
The cracks in the coffin were being sealed tighter and tighter. She could faintly hear Meng Yafu’s voice: “She’s a pitiful soul, too. Junior Sister Lu, you should treat her a little better.”
Lu Shang laughed mockingly. “Who isn’t pitiful? Am I not pitiful? Or aren’t you? Senior Brother Meng, you’d best not harbor any improper thoughts or violate the sect’s taboos. If you do, don’t blame me for not protecting you.”
As the last nail was driven in, A-Pan couldn’t help but let her tears fall.