Volume One: Turmoil in Yan and Yun Chapter Fifty: As If Meeting for the First Time (Part Two)
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As if in response to the words about the rising wind, the breeze at the scene intensified slightly. Suddenly, he felt a gentle dampness on his face. He reached up and touched his cheek, only to realize that rain had begun to fall.
The rain arrived swiftly, yet without haste; when it touched the river, it made not a sound.
What a fine drizzle.
The delicate rain, like strands of silk, shrouded the Purple Willow Bridge, enveloping both banks of the river.
No, perhaps it blanketed the entire city of Jizhou.
Mist gradually rose from the river, thin as the scattered clouds of a highland.
The light fog crept across, drifting over Nai Xi, stretching over the Purple Willow, then sweeping past the girl's knees.
Her red dress spun in the gentle rain, resembling a blossoming winter plum.
Her jade feet danced in the white mist, swaying like willow branches in the wind.
What a splendid winter plum!
What a graceful jade willow!
The winter plum spun ever faster, beads of water flung from her hem, dispersing in a shimmering haze around her.
The haze thickened, transforming into a display of colors.
The onlookers watched, entranced.
The colors gradually coalesced, forming a ring of rainbow light.
The winter plum was nowhere to be seen.
A splash.
Someone—perhaps lost in their own reverie, perhaps accidentally jostled by another, or for some other reason—unexpectedly fell into the Nai Xi River.
The person, startled by the fall, awoke from their trance and flailed, crying out for help.
Fantasy and reality—clearly, reality still prevails.
The crowd gradually emerged from their collective dream. Some cursed the man who had fallen in, others sympathized.
When faced with beauty, perhaps the joys and sorrows among people can indeed resonate.
Feng Qi looked toward the direction in which the girl had vanished, a smile on his lips, but his gaze inadvertently met that of the man from before.
That man gave him a meaningful smile.
Feng Qi pondered, then bowed from afar.
The man merely nodded in return.
The rain grew heavier, splashing onto the Nai Xi River in a myriad of droplets, each ripple spreading across the water.
Feng Qi raised a hand to shield his eyes, looked up at the rain, smiled, and turned to leave.
The man stood unmoving; someone nearby opened an umbrella for him, keeping the wind and rain at bay.
"Your Highness, who was that?" Murong Shen Zhang asked in a low voice.
As the eldest son of the Prime Minister’s household, his powers of observation were keen. He had noticed the interaction between those by his side and the man across the river from the very beginning, but the timing was ill-suited, so he had refrained from speaking.
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Even as both banks watched the breathtaking dance, he remained deep in thought about the matter.
There were many who could prompt the Crown Prince to act so respectfully, but few who could compel him to maintain such decorum even from a distance.
Respectful, but not urgent.
Hostile, yet not entirely so.
Why?
He pondered for a long time, arriving at an uncertain guess.
By the timeline, the heir of Yanbei should have arrived in Jizhou at this moment.
The crucial question: why such coincidence?
The Crown Prince’s northern tour—just arriving in Jizhou.
The Yanbei heir coming south—just arriving in Jizhou.
The Holy Maiden of the Red Kylin Pavilion emerging—chosen in Jizhou.
He had never believed in coincidence. The saying goes, “no story without coincidence,” but that is for books; reality rarely offers such coincidences, which is why it feels far more real.
"I do not know either," Du Gu Zhe replied softly. "But there is a sense of familiarity about him."
"Familiarity?" Murong Shen Zhang was puzzled. "Has Your Highness met him before?"
Du Gu Zhe glanced at Murong Shen Zhang. "This familiarity isn’t from actual contact. As for who he is, can you truly not guess?"
Murong Shen Zhang sighed helplessly. "It seems that was indeed the heir of Yanbei."
Du Gu Zhe smiled. "I am distant from Feng Qi, as Wuyang is from Yan Yun. Yet I am also close, as the top scorer is to the second."
Before Murong Shen Zhang could speak, he continued, self-deprecatingly, "To speak of it, the distance between the top scorer and the second seems no less than that between Wuyang and Yan Yun."
Some attain the top spot because the highest rank on the list is always the top.
Some can only reach second, because the first is already claimed; no matter how dazzling they are, they cannot surpass that person.
How vast is the gulf between them? Aside from storytellers, perhaps no one can truly say.
"Why do you say so, Your Highness?" Murong Shen Zhang was slightly startled. "Wasn’t the Sage of Wisdom among mortals someone who rose from obscurity, surpassing all others? Who would have thought he’d achieve the Dao and earn eternal fame?"
"There are many tales of late bloomers, but far more of those who fade into the crowd," Du Gu Zhe smiled. "Fortunately, I am destined not to fade into obscurity."
He paused, then went on, "It’s just a pity."
Murong Shen Zhang asked, "A pity for what?"
Du Gu Zhe looked at the rain, at the river below, at the rising droplets and spreading ripples, and sighed softly. "A pity we shall never be conspirators."
Murong Shen Zhang was momentarily stunned, then understood.
The Crown Prince and the Fourth Prince were brothers, born of the same mother.
The emperor had many sons; the eldest was over a hundred, the youngest still in swaddling clothes. He had no time to oversee them all… The Fourth Prince was raised by the Crown Prince.
Yet the Crown Prince was always wise and virtuous. Though Yanbei’s protection was lacking in the Fourth Prince’s death, was it not also because a traitor emerged among the Crown Prince’s shadow guards?
What did this mean?
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Feng Qi… the List of Elegance… the Lingyun List.
But the relationship between the sects and the court had always been amicable; the resources for cultivation were provided by the Divine Dynasty. Not to mention, when the old emperor ascended a decade ago, the sword master of Snow Cloud Sect and the Dao Sage of Tai Xuan Mountain personally came to bid him farewell.
But seeing the Crown Prince’s expression, he dared not ask.
The Crown Prince silently watched the rain, gazing at the river and the undulating droplets, saying nothing.
……
……
“I once thought the heir was one to worry for the world before others, but it turns out he is a man of many passions.”
Feng Qi had just pushed open the door to his room when he heard Murong Xue’s mocking tone.
He raised an eyebrow. “Why are you in my room?”
Murong Xue replied, “That silly girl has returned to Yan Yun, leaving me here to say farewell on her behalf.”
Feng Qi was slightly taken aback. “What happened to Xing’er?”
Murong Xue replied, “She’s older than you; stop calling her Xing’er.”
The next moment, she added, “She’s accompanied you for so many years, waited for you for so long; even if she hasn’t accomplished much, she’s suffered enough. You made your vow on the street under the name of Yanbei—when word reaches the north, how will she cope?”
Feng Qi was puzzled. “What does that have to do with me?”
Murong Xue was momentarily speechless, then grew furious. “Indeed, a heart as cold as iron. Even if you don’t treat her as a friend, even as a subordinate—how could you say such a thing?”
Feng Qi replied, “I don’t understand.”
Murong Xue grew angrier. “Let me ask you: why did she ride across a thousand miles to catch up with us?”
Feng Qi replied, “By the command of my father, all in Yanbei must obey.”
Murong Xue pressed further, “Then let me ask: after delivering the message, was your father’s order for her to join our group to Wuyang or to return immediately to Yan Yun?”
Feng Qi was momentarily stunned, thought carefully, then replied, “I suppose she was to return to Yan Yun.”
Murong Xue fixed her gaze on him, nodded, and asked, “So?”
Feng Qi finally understood Luo Xing’s predicament. He fell silent for a while, then spoke slowly, “I refused her long ago.”
“So?”
“I believe I am not wrong. Affection is affection; lack of it is lack of it. I think Xing’er has an excellent temperament, very suitable as a friend; but I have no romantic feelings for her.”
“Then what you should do is not simply refuse.”
“What then?”
“You ought to help her give up hope.”
……
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