Time flies like sand slipping through your fingers; in the blink of an eye, three months have passed.
Since their meeting in the main hall of the Feng residence that day, the stunningly beautiful and unforgettable female general, Feng Qinghe, vanished from their sight like a drop of water merging into a vast sea of sand, never to return to the mansion.
The well-trained and taciturn servants in the mansion seemed to have long been accustomed to this.
When asked about General Feng’s whereabouts, most bowed and answered in a measured tone, “Reporting to our honored guest, General Feng is busy with military affairs and has gone to inspect various cities.” As for which city she went to or when she would return, they all shook their heads blankly and said, “I don’t know.” The vast Feng mansion, with its pavilions and towers still standing and servants sweeping as usual, seemed to have become an exquisite yet empty guesthouse without a true owner, eerily quiet.
During the day, all that could be heard was the rustling of the wind through the withered branches of the old plum trees in the courtyard and the faint, distant noise from the streets of the Seventh City; after nightfall, it became even more desolate, with only the monotonous sound of the night watchman’s clapper occasionally breaking the heavy silence.
Taking advantage of the almost eerie tranquility brought about by the absence of their master, coupled with Feng Qinghe’s promise when she left, “Stay here in peace; there are no demons or monsters to worry about,” it seemed to have truly transformed into an invisible barrier, firmly keeping all possible troubles and prying eyes outside the borders of the Thirteen Alliances.
Gu Anqi and Achen, along with the ever-energetic Xie Ciyun, actually managed to leisurely and meticulously tour all thirteen scattered cities on the border.
They witnessed the twinkling lights of fishing boats in the water town at night, tasted the spicy and delicious local delicacies of the mountain town, and listened to the desolate and melodious songs of the herdsmen by the fire on the grassland.
They witnessed the nighttime scenery of the water town built along the river—thousands of fishing lights flickered on in the inky water, reflecting the starry sky above.
Fishing boats came and went, oars creaking, and the air was filled with a faint fishy smell and the aroma of cooking lake delicacies.
It was nothing like a frontier region but rather had a touch of the gentle charm of a Jiangnan water town.
They tasted all kinds of spicy and pungent wild game that the mountain town relied on to keep warm, including dried meat marinated with strange spices and soup pots that were scalding hot and covered with a layer of red oil.
Xie Ciyun was choked and teared up many times, but he still ate until he was sweating profusely and exclaimed that he enjoyed it very much.
They also paused by a tribal campfire on the edge of the vast grassland, listening to the weathered old herdsmen playing ancient instruments, their voices hoarse yet deeply moving, singing ancient heroic epics and songs of wandering.
The songs drifted on the wind under the boundless starry sky, carrying a primitive vitality that was quite different from the ritual music of the Central Plains.
Xie Ciyun was like a fish in water, filled with curiosity about the local customs and culture of every place, chattering away, which alleviated much of the loneliness of the journey.
Gu Anqi, on the other hand, was more like a silent observer.
He examined the lives of the people in each city with the eyes of a healer, and with the mind of a wise man, he savored the exquisite balance that Feng Qinghe maintained in this complex situation.
His amazement and admiration deepened with each step of his journey.
Achen remained silent, but his sharp gaze swept over every pass and military camp, examining the city defenses and assessing the combat strength of the garrison, as if he were constantly deducing and verifying something in his mind.
The three traveled together, sharing meals and lodging, seemingly traveling as companions, but each harboring their own thoughts.
On this land exuding a strange charm, they collectively experienced an unprecedented, contradictory atmosphere, a mixture of absolute tranquility and deep-seated undercurrents.
Safety was undeniable; for three months, not a single disturbance pointed to past troubles.
But this safety didn’t bring complete relaxation; instead, it brought a sense of insignificance within a vast, unknown system, coupled with an increasingly intense curiosity and inexplicable wariness towards the ever-present yet omnipresent “master.” As the year drew to a close, the northern winds were biting cold.
A letter from the capital, perfectly sealed and carrying the dust of a long journey, was safely delivered to Xie Ciyun, who was temporarily residing at the Feng residence, via the unique post roads of the Thirteen Alliances.
Unfolding the letter, one saw the familiar and delicate handwriting of Madam Xie, the words earnest and filled with a mother’s worry and concern.
She worried that her only son was wandering far from home, enduring a bleak New Year, and was even more concerned about the harshness and unpredictable dangers of the borderlands.
She urged him to return home immediately so that the family could be reunited.
On the day of parting, the sky was overcast, with leaden clouds hanging low over the city walls.
Xie Ciyun was very dejected and reluctant to leave.
She tugged at Gu Anqi’s sleeve at the gate of the Feng residence and murmured for a long time, her eyes even reddening slightly: “Gu Anqi, I really don’t want to leave!
It’s so much more interesting here than being cooped up at home!
I haven’t had enough of the starry sky on the grasslands yet, and that old man in the mountain city who can brew strong liquor said he’d teach me how to brew wine in the spring…
It’s a pity that Mother’s letter was so serious; I dare not not reply…
You and Achen should stay here and take good care of yourselves.
I think that although Commander Feng is mysterious, he really keeps his word.
It’s safe here!
After the New Year, I’ll persuade my parents, and maybe I’ll sneak over to see you!” Gu Anqi’s face still held that gentle and peaceful smile.
He carefully straightened the collar of the fur cloak that had been ruffled by the wind, then reached out to brush the fine snow that had just fallen on his shoulders, and said gently, “Be careful on the road.
The roads are slippery in the snow, so don’t rush.
Please give my regards to Sect Leader Xie and your wife, and express my gratitude for their continued care.
Here…” He raised his eyes, looked around at the quiet mansion and the hazy outline of the Seventh City in the distance, and said softly, “Very well.
Ah Chen and I are here, and everything is safe and sound.
There’s no need to worry.” Ah Chen simply leaned against the stone lion not far from the gate, his figure almost blending into the gray wall.
He gazed at the vast, snow-covered official road outside the city gate, remaining silent about Xie Ciyun’s departure, his face expressionless, as if it were just an ordinary farewell.
Only when Xie Ciyun mounted his horse, tightened the reins, and turned back to shout, “Gu Anqi!
Ah Chen!
I’m leaving!
See you after the New Year!
“Did.” Ah Chen gave a barely perceptible nod, his gaze lingering for a moment on Xie Ciyun’s young, still somewhat reluctant face before shifting back to the distant snowstorm.
Xie Ciyun’s lone figure quickly disappeared into the swirling snow and at the end of the official road.
The area in front of the Feng Mansion suddenly became empty and desolate.
The journey and companionship that had lasted for three whole months seemed to have been abruptly taken away with the departure of that man and his horse, leaving only the howling of the cold wind sweeping through the streets and the soft rustling of snowflakes falling to the ground.
The mansion remained unchanged.
Under the long corridor, only Gu Anqi and Achen remained, walking silently one after the other on the still slightly slippery stone path after being swept.
Their footsteps echoed in the empty courtyard, clear and somewhat jarring.
In the courtyard, even with the New Year approaching, a few simple red silk lanterns were hung under the eaves of the mansion.
Two more potted holly bonsai, symbolizing good fortune, were placed in the hall, adding a touch of festive decoration that, while not particularly warm, was still present.
As night fell, Gu Anqi sat by the window in Tingfeng Garden, reading a book of northern medicinal herbs by the light of a solitary lamp.
Achen stood alone by the window on the second floor of Shuying Pavilion, gazing at the stone path in the courtyard covered with a thin layer of snow.
The moonlight stretched his tall figure into a slender silhouette, and a loneliness colder than the north wind emanated from him.
Feng Qinghe still hadn’t returned.
The mansion seemed to have become a vast and exquisite shell, safe yet empty.
Two silent men, in this haven built by a mysterious female general, faced the approaching end of the year, their master nowhere to be found.
An eerie calm permeated the air, as if awaiting something—perhaps the festive cheer, or perhaps… the return of their master, breaking the deathly stillness before the storm.