Chapter Ninety-Five: Goodbye, Farewell

The wedding was set for April 30th, a date chosen according to the lunar calendar, which favored marriage, betrothal, pact-making, rituals, and blessings.

They decided to hold the wedding at the inn where Ye Qianran lived. Wei Zhuang paid the innkeeper a substantial sum to transform the place into a wedding hall. The innkeeper accepted the generous payment, patting his chest with satisfaction: “The town hasn’t had a joyous occasion in a long time. Now, with your celebration, our little shop will be lively again. Don’t worry, sir, this matter is in my hands. I’ll make sure every detail pleases you completely.”

Ye Qianran handed an invitation to Qingfeng with a faint smile. “I’m getting married. I’m afraid we won’t be able to be together anymore.”

Qingfeng remained as carefree as ever, though a gentle warmth curved his lips. “Ah, now even you are getting married—looks like I’m truly going to be alone.”

Ye Qianran laughed softly. “If you don’t want to be alone, then hurry up and marry someone. In a few years, you’ll be too old, and no girl will want to marry you.”

Spinning a folding fan in his hand, Qingfeng feigned a sigh. “I want to, but no girl wants to follow me traveling everywhere. My only companion is about to marry, too. It’s quite heartbreaking.”

Teasingly, Ye Qianran said, “Then I won’t get married. How about traveling mountains and rivers with me?”

Qingfeng pretended to be startled, waving his hands vigorously. “Better not. If he finds out I ran off with you, I’m sure he’d want to kill me.”

Ye Qianran smiled, a faint dimple appearing at the corner of her mouth.

Qingfeng looked at her steadily, tenderness blossoming in his smile. “Qianran, congratulations. I hope you find happiness.”

Ye Qianran nodded with a smile.

The invitation was personally delivered to Liu Yun by Wei Zhuang and Ye Qianran.

Grudges and resentments can arise in an instant, and vanish just as quickly.

On reflection, perhaps the three of them were truly bound by fate from a previous life: Liu Yun and Ye Qianran, Ye Qianran and Wei Zhuang, Wei Zhuang and Liu Yun. Each pair could coexist peacefully, but when the three met, conflicts and entanglements inevitably arose. Some matters simply must be resolved; avoidance is no solution.

Liu Yun accepted the invitation. Achun glanced at him with unease, but he remained calm, opening the card and saying, “Congratulations.”

Ye Qianran’s heart suddenly felt dry as she looked at him—the former lover who now spoke those words of congratulations. Life is fleeting; the world ever-changing.

Wei Zhuang turned to Achun. “Achun, I’ve been feeling unwell these past few days for unknown reasons. Could you examine me?”

Achun looked at Wei Zhuang, puzzled but responsive. “Where do you feel discomfort? What kind of sensations?”

Ye Qianran glanced at him, but Wei Zhuang spoke only to Achun. “It’s inconvenient to speak here. Let’s go to the clinic so you can feel my pulse and find the root cause.”

Achun seemed to understand. “Then Sister Qianran can stay here and talk with her husband. Wei Zhuang and I will be back shortly.”

Only two were left in the room; the air felt tight and uneasy.

It was their first time alone together since parting four years ago—the lovers once deeply entwined, now meeting again with others by their sides.

Ye Qianran looked up at him. The once gentle and refined gentleman, her beloved, now bore traces of hardship on his face. The loose azure robe suited his graceful yet worn appearance. Before, he always wore pure white, immaculate, exuding an aura of aloofness. Now, in his green robe, he seemed more touched by the mortal world.

Time is too thin; the gaps between fingers too wide. Neither people nor things remain unchanged.

Ye Qianran’s fingers brushed his cheek. He was the one who once haunted her dreams, her sole belief. Now, here he was. Liu Yun looked down at her softly; she felt a pang of pain. “You’ve grown thin.”

Suddenly, Liu Yun embraced her. Ye Qianran closed her eyes.

They had waited too long for this embrace.

Wei Zhuang and Achun stood beneath the apricot blossoms. The flowers had fallen, replaced by lush green leaves. The April breeze carried a gentle warmth. Wei Zhuang gazed at the distant verdant hills, inexplicably feeling at ease. Perhaps he could try no longer to be anxious and doubtful—letting go of himself and others.

Achun glanced at him. “Aren’t you worried?”

“Worried about what?”

Achun said nothing.

Wei Zhuang turned to look at her worried face. “You should trust yourself.”

Achun looked down at her slightly rounded belly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, husband, but...”

Wei Zhuang smiled faintly. “If old feelings truly reignite, better to know sooner than later. The more you resist feelings, the stronger they become. It’s best to let nature take its course.”

Ye Qianran gently withdrew from his embrace and took down the jade pendant from her waist—their token of betrothal. Once broken in two, she had it repaired and joined again. Now, she returned the pendant to him.

Liu Yun rubbed the jade, its warm touch of mutton fat white jade familiar. This pendant had been given to two people but had come full circle back to him.

“I no longer deserve to keep it. Give it to its rightful owner,” Ye Qianran said with a faint smile.

Liu Yun held it in his palm, smiling lightly. “Now I can finally let you go and devote myself fully to another. Qianran, thank you.”

Ye Qianran smiled softly, teasing, “Thank me for what? Thank me for finally leaving your life behind, or for no longer being entangled with you?”

Liu Yun smiled. “If you insist on saying that, I won’t deny it.”

Ye Qianran’s laughter blossomed bright as spring flowers.

Looking at her smile, Liu Yun’s own faded away. “No matter who is by your side now, as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters. We both deserve happiness.”

Ye Qianran looked at him silently and nodded knowingly.

Turning away, she left without hesitation or regret, silently saying, “Liu Yun, farewell.”

Farewell, farewell.

Wei Zhuang escorted her back to the inn. That night, they drank yellow wine and ate peanuts in their room. Then he grew drunk, resting his head on her lap and falling into a deep sleep. Ye Qianran’s index finger gently traced his childlike lips. This was a man who understood the elegance behind the music—a man who was her husband. Now, at last, she could be his wife without distraction. Life was long; she could repay the debts owed to him little by little.

Outside the window, thick mist and cool dew lingered. Tree shadows swayed, wild grasses grew thick, and the partridge’s call echoed.

The years were peaceful.

April 20th—ten days before the wedding.

At dusk, the slanting sunlight bathed the Chilan River that flowed through the city. Willows swayed hazily by the riverbank. By the willow hung a horse tied to its post. An ancient pomegranate tree at the bridgehead bloomed abundantly, its deep green leaves and bright orange-red flowers vivid beneath the orange sunset, adding a touch of wildness.

Wei Zhuang and Ye Qianran walked across the bridge, their shadows stretched long by the setting sun.

Ye Qianran sighed. “Scenes like this strangely remind me of Xi Shi. I wonder what she thought as she walked beneath the sunset in the palace of Wu.”

“Wei Li must have been thinking of Fan Li, the man she stayed with in Yue,” Wei Zhuang replied with a slight smile.

Ye Qianran tilted her head and smiled. “I don’t think so. Xi Shi stayed by Fu Chai’s side for ten years, where he lavished her with a man’s every favor. Yet, aside from their first meeting by the Zuluo Creek, she and Fan Li had nothing. She probably long forgot Fan Li’s face. That man cared only for empire and conquest, not for her. But she couldn’t love Fu Chai either. Faced with his deep affection, she only felt torment. It was better to return to washing silk by the Zuluo Creek. Though hard, it was simple—no need to scheme or flatter.”

Wei Zhuang suddenly stopped, looking straight at her. Ye Qianran paused, noticing the faint smile at the corner of his mouth. “What is it? Did I say something wrong?”

Wei Zhuang laughed. “No.” Then he paused before asking, “After such a long journey, are you tired?”

Ye Qianran nodded. “A little.”

Wei Zhuang smiled. “Then let me carry you for a while.” Turning around, he bent down.

Ye Qianran laid her head on his back. Wei Zhuang lifted her slowly, strolling leisurely through the sunset. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her heart overflowing with sweetness and softness, like a spilled jar of honey. She closed her eyes, as if asleep, her voice faint and blurred: “Thank you, husband.”

A subtle smile touched Wei Zhuang’s lips, like spring rain—gentle yet lingering.

At midnight, the moon stood high, the Milky Way glittered.

A thin mist hovered over the mountains.

Wei Zhuang was startled awake by urgent knocking. Dressing hastily, he opened the door to find Yan Qing standing outside, the stars still overhead. Behind Yan Qing stood a row of men dressed in black, clearly in a rush.

“What’s the emergency?” Wei Zhuang asked, surprised.

“I just received word that the people you’re looking for are in Jinling,” Yan Qing answered tersely.

Wei Zhuang said nothing, his expression strange—neither clearly happy nor unhappy.

Yan Qing raised an eyebrow. “Not pleased?”

Wei Zhuang smiled faintly. “I’ve been searching for them for ten years. Perhaps in the first few years, I would have been excited. But now, ten years later, what is there left to expect or rejoice about?”

“Then why do you keep searching? Don’t tell me you don’t care at all. I don’t believe it,” Yan Qing countered immediately.

Wei Zhuang remained silent.

After a long pause, he turned and went back inside.

Yan Qing waited beneath the apricot tree. Wei Zhuang dressed and said calmly, “We depart immediately for Jinling.”

Yan Qing smiled.

They had only taken a few steps before Yan Qing suddenly stopped, turning to a black-clad man behind him. “After dawn, go to Phoenix Cloud Water Inn and find a woman surnamed Ye. Tell her I have urgent business and must leave for a few days, but I will return before the thirtieth. Reassure her.”

“Woman surnamed Ye?” Yan Qing repeated playfully, pausing. “I don’t think Yan Zi’s surname is Ye.”

Wei Zhuang gave him a sidelong glance. Yan Qing laughed heartily.

After descending the mountain, Yan Qing took the reins from the black-clad man and issued a calm but authoritative command: “Remember the purpose of this mission. Make sure everything is thoroughly handled before we return.”

The five men in black bowed in unison.

Wei Zhuang asked, “Why do you have other tasks in Phoenix Cloud this time?”

Yan Qing replied lightly, “You know, with the empire newly established, there are many problems to solve. It can’t be helped. I was born to toil—unlike you, sir, so leisurely.”

Wei Zhuang swung himself onto his horse. The sound of galloping hooves rose as two horses sped into the night.