Chapter 68: Snow Pear Garden

"Snow Pear Garden, what a poetic name." I frowned at the tightly shut vermilion gate before me, merely pushing it lightly with a hopeful heart, never expecting the gate to actually creak open.

I helplessly shook my head and gave a wry smile, lifted my skirt, and walked inside.

Upon entering the gate, a fresh breeze blew toward me; the rich but not overpowering floral scent, the natural primordial vitality, and the pure, unadulterated taste of water blended together, stimulating every cell in my body, instantly dispelling the worries, anxieties, and fatigue of recent days.

I gently closed my eyes, drew in several deep breaths of fresh air, then opened them, and couldn't help but be stunned by the sight before me.

"How beautiful!" I took a few steps forward, continually turning to look around. At the center of the residence lay a large lake, its surface shimmering with blue light, ripples glimmering, reflecting the spring sunshine and blue sky—truly splendid and magnificent.

Willows filled both banks of the lake; spring was exactly when the willows sprouted, delicate twigs bearing tiny buds swayed gently in the still slightly cool breeze—though not as lush as summer's green shade, they were especially full of life.

A faint, familiar floral scent drifted into my nostrils; I looked out and saw that the lake's surroundings were planted in patches with many apricot trees, apricot blossoms fluttering lightly in the wind, on the verge of falling yet not quite, their fragrant perfume mingling with the misty vapor rising from the lake…

Apricot rain that threatens to dampen one's clothes, willow breeze that does not chill the face.

My whole body shuddered violently, my heart pounding uncontrollably…

"Don't you think living lakeside amidst this nature is wonderful?"

"We should plant willows along both sides of the lake, exactly like that manor in Changping Town, willows supporting the banks. Then plant a few apricot trees around—hehe, though a bit of a shortcut, it truly fulfills the verse by Monk Zhinan: 'Apricot rain that threatens to dampen one's clothes, willow breeze that does not chill the face.'"

I stepped step by step toward that ordinary residence, far less luxurious than the outer palace. Each step seemed to exhaust all my energy, all my courage…

I stood outside the residence, gazing at the lake, then lifted my eyes to the gate where the two characters "Wu You" were written in clerical script; though the strokes were strong and vigorous, I could see blood dripping from the sorrow, thread after thread of knots.

The distant memory seemed to be from a past life, yet suddenly awakened in this one, striking my eyes, my heart…

"The house will be built here. First, I declare I don't want a thatched hut that would collapse at a breath."

"Also not too big, like that place you-know-what of yours—just the three of us living there would be too empty, actually more suited to haunting; you might wake up in the middle of the night and scare yourself to death. We only want something beautiful and sturdy."

I turned around and stepped into the residence step by step. The residence really is simple, only three rooms, with lanterns hung outside each door. When my icy hand touched the lantern bearing the three characters "Shui Bingyi", my tears finally burst forth uncontrollably.

It was overflowing with emotion, regret, desolation—drop by drop, eroding my already chaotic soul and heart.

I gently pushed the door open; there was no face‑full of dust, no damp mustiness, only a faint, sorrowful fragrance mingled with the scent of books, seeping bit by bit into my whole body, impossible to stop.

"My room must have a large window facing the lake, to the south. Inside, I don't want much—just a table, a chair, and a bed. Preferably a lamp and a bookshelf at the head of the bed for when I'm bored; of course, there's one thing that cannot be missing: a full‑length mirror. You know, a big long mirror that can reflect the whole person…"

I pressed my trembling lips shut with one hand; in the hazy water mist, pear blossom petals drifted down like rain, floating into the room and landing on me…

"Hmm, what should I plant before the window? Let me think… ah, pear trees. 'Suddenly, as if a spring breeze came overnight, thousands of trees burst into pear blossoms'—how romantic a vision!"

Tears seemed about to drain all the moisture from my body, surging down relentlessly. The hot liquid scorched my hands, my lips, my heart…

How could I be so cruel?

How could I let Qiran bear such sorrow and despair while building this Snow Pear Garden?

"Who let you in?" a cold, sword‑like voice, laden with murderous intent, sounded behind me.

I shuddered violently, then slowly turned around.

Qiran wore no mask, his clothes stained with much dirt and grass, his hand still holding an empty cloth bag for flower and grass seeds. His peerless appearance, tall and slender figure, handsome as a wind god, stood before me just as when we first met.

"Anyone who enters here shall be killed without pardon!" He gently set down the bag in his hand, left hand touching his waist, and spoke coldly and ruthlessly, "Even if it's you… no exception!"

Yet the tenderness and warmth of that time, like a dream from another world, were completely swept away by his all‑over chill and coldness.

"Qiran…" I moved my lips, the bitterness of my tears seeping into my tongue. Sorry for making you so sorrowful, so desperate, I… "I…"

"Swish—" my words couldn't get out; I only felt a cold light flash before my eyes, icy killing intent already enveloping my whole body.

Qiran drew the long sword at his waist, without the slightest hesitation, and lunged at me.

"Qiran——" I shouted loudly. The speed was too fast—whether drawing a thread or dodging, there was no time! He truly intended to kill me, in this house built for Shui Bingyi, to kill me with his own hands…

So cold, so painful—I was knocked to the ground by a powerful force; my lowered eyelids could glimpse the cold‑glinting sword already plunged into my body, but not into my heart.

With difficulty I forced a smile; Qiran… he ultimately still strayed from the path…

The sword tip flashed cold light, yet bore no blood, pointing straight at me; Qiran's face showed a moment of shock, then was instantly overwhelmed by boundless despair and fear.

He gazed at me, his peerless countenance pallid and icy, as if he weren't even looking at me, and spoke word by word, desolately and without emotion: "Even if you die, you must be dragged out of this room to die again."

Though his face showed no expression, though he was so resolutely cruel, I seemed to see his heart dripping blood, weeping…

I know, I truly know; deep down I am actually yearning—for him to recognize me, to tell me he has not taken a wife.

But only now do I realize how selfish I am! Letting Qiran watch me die with his own eyes, making him bear alone our past hopes and joys, lonely longing, endless sorrow.

Time and again I reminisced here, and time and again despaired here—even Bu Sha left him.

"Qiran…"

Sorry, the one truly trapped in the past, unable to extricate oneself, is not you—it's me!

If, from the moment I woke after the cliff fall, I had gone back to find you; if, from the moment we first met, I had told you I was still alive, begging you not to be so desperate; if…

"I have none…" my voice suddenly froze at that moment; I panicked to discover that my vocal cords, together with my trembling body, had turned to ice, and the wound where the long sword had just entered already bloomed with crimson frost.

Unable to move, unable to speak, even… unable to breathe properly!

Heaven, please don't play such a huge joke on me at this moment! I want to tell Qiran that I am Shui Bingyi; I want to tell him I am not dead; I want to tell him, don't be so sorrowful and desperate…

But my lips were frozen, turning purple; no matter how hard I tried, I could not utter a word.

My vocal cords felt as if they had been torn apart—aside from silence, there was only silence.

Qiran grabbed me and hauled me up from the ground; my whole body was icy and numb, except for my chest I felt no pain. Tears, congealed inside me, I wanted to shout, to stop, to hold him tightly and weep… all were mere fantasies.

But Qiran didn't glance at me again, as if fearing his own hesitation and regret. Like dragging a rag, he seized me and, in an instant, carried me out of the residence and leapt to the gate of Snow Pear Garden.

My body was hurled sideways out; I lifted my tear‑wet face, my whole body trembling, I stared fixedly at Qiran. Silent, yet I refused to miss a single moment of his peerless visage.

Qiran's sword‑hand trembled violently, almost dropping the blade. He fiercely averted his gaze and suddenly bellowed, "Come!"

Moments later, a dozen or so men in black appeared as if out of thin air, surrounding us. Their leader, the very handsome man who had once taken Wu Ye away, bowed and said, "Young Master, what are your orders?"

Qiran drew the mask from his bosom and put it on, coldly saying, "Who let her into Snow Pear Garden?"

The man shuddered, his brows knit, and lowered his head: "I, your subordinate, do not know. Perhaps it was a mistaken entry…"

Qiran's eyes flashed with sharp light, yet his words were unusually cold: "First, lock her up in the cell."

"Yes!" The man seized me with one hand and gave a light wave with the other; aside from the two black‑clad guides leading the way, the rest again faded into darkness. Outside Snow Pear Garden all fell silent, as if nothing had happened.

"Mo Yan." Qiran paused, then continued, "Before the matter is clarified, don't let her die or escape."

Mo Yan nodded, reached out and tapped two fingers around my frost‑covered wound, then followed the two black‑clad men westward.

"You're still the first person to break into the Snow Pear Garden and not be killed by the young master." Mo Yan supported me as we walked silently for a while, then suddenly spoke.

My blood was still congealing throughout my body, flowing sluggishly; I could not even speak properly, let alone force a smile.

"Being wounded by the young master's 'Cold Blood Sword' inevitably freezes the meridians; try circulating your true qi to strike the heart vessels and get the blood flowing. Otherwise, cold easily enters the body—mildly causing disability, severely causing death."

I glanced at him gratefully, then, as he said, began to circulate the true qi sunk in my dantian through twelve cycles; for a moment the true qi flowed gently inside me, and I forgot where I was, until Mo Yan whispered in my ear, "We've arrived."

I flung my eyes open and realized I was actually in a dungeon; a damp, nauseating moldy stench and foul odor assailed my nose. My whole body shuddered, and I whispered a curse: "What damned place is this?"

As soon as I spoke, I discovered that my formerly frozen body could now barely move, my vocal cords had returned to normal, though I was still bitterly cold all over, shaking nonstop. The wound hurt more than ten times what it did when numb, and even my forehead burned hot, almost bursting.

Mo Yan carefully helped me sit against the wall, then said softly, "Take care of yourself; in this prison no one will look after you. I'll go back to report to the young master."

I gave him a grateful smile, saw him bend and retreat, then leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes to rest.

My body feels awful…… This seems like my second time in prison? Last time it was in Wei Lingfeng's palace, but I was released immediately, even escorted by the emperor himself—thinking about it, it's really funny.

My body is freezing, yet my head burns with fever; I feel miserable to death. This time, I won't just die of illness in this cell, will I? That would be too pathetic, too boring.

My consciousness began to haze; my body, weak, slumped against the wall, curled up and shivering incessantly, then fell into a deep sleep…

Qi Ran stood in place, gazing at the Snow Pear Garden with its gate wide open for a long while; as the sky gradually darkened, he remained motionless.

Until the sun set, just like the day Bingyi died, even the last glimmer of light left him…… He slightly lifted the corner of his mouth, pulling out a smile more sorrowful than tears, closed the door, turned slowly, and walked toward the bustling imperial palace.

Suddenly, his steps halted, his tall frame bent slightly, and he picked up the object on the ground. A black armguard—could it be what that person just dropped? It seems… somewhat familiar!

He held the armguard in his hand and walked back step by step; unexpectedly, his mind was not a blank void, but kept flashing those tear‑filled eyes…

In those eyes seemed to flash a dazzling light, like the falling tear drops, stabbing his supposedly numb heart with waves of pain. Yet he could not discern what kind of gaze or emotion was mixed within that light.

Whether he couldn't see, didn't want to see, or dared not see—actually there was no difference.

When he first saw Shui Lianyue, when had he ever not hoped? Even if Bingyi was sent by the father emperor, even if Bingyi had been deceiving him…… it didn't matter; as long as she was alive…… just being alive was enough!

But with just a glance, he knew that the woman with an identical physique was not Bingyi.

And from that moment on, he finally knew that Shui Bingyi was dead! The woman who had left an eternal mark on his life was pierced through the body by Mu Lifeng's single blade, fell into a pool of blood, and died so clearly and thoroughly before his eyes, never to be revived!

Qi Ran pushed the door open and entered his own empty, deathly silent room; the black armguard in his hand was casually placed on the table.

On the table lay food that had long lost its heat. Originally, it was his own order that dinner be set in his room at the scheduled time, with no special summons for him? Originally, it was also his own order that no one be allowed to treat his stomach ailment?

But these past few days, why does he constantly miss that bowl of nauseatingly bitter medicinal soup and that bowl of bland, tasteless white porridge?

Qi Ran lifted the meal, about to dump it into the bucket, when his gaze inadvertently fell on the black armguard and he suddenly stopped.

He took up the armguard, and by candlelight saw that its inner layer was crudely embroidered with white thread into the character "Yi".

His heart gave a sudden thump; he then lifted his hand to look at the pale blue fluffy material on his own wrist, which likewise bore a crookedly stitched character "Ran". He said, "It's a keepsake, a memorial…… to what?"

If it was sent by Bu, why is it embroidered with the character "Ran" instead of "Qi"?

That girl said this is an armguard; she carefully put it on him, skillfully explained its purpose—something he had never seen before…… the use of the armguard.

Something ached in his chest; he sprang to his feet and paced about the room like a headless fly. It wasn't that he didn't want to stop, but rather…… that if he stopped, he could not restrain his mind from churning out that unbelievable thought.

"Zheng—" a sudden piano note startled him; his crystal‑clear, slender fingers brushed the string he had accidentally pressed, as if unconsciously plucking it lightly……

As the piano notes poured out, even he himself was startled. What he played was precisely the tune that girl had played a few days earlier by the stone bench. His fingers lightly plucked, and in a hazy recollection he remembered her singing that day; the song softly, silently spilled from his lips and teeth:

I see the sky very blue

Just like your warmth beside me

Life has too many regrets

The more one grows up, the lonelier one feels

I really want…… to fly, no matter how far, never tired

Only then do I understand that the deeper the love

the more the heart hurts

I only want to fly, to fly in my sky

I know you will be by my side……

"Bang—" the piano string snapped violently; Qi Ran's eyes widened, blood seeping from his crystal‑clear fingers, which trembled incessantly.

Why…… why does the song she played happen to connect seamlessly with the music from Bingyi's "phone"? And it matches perfectly.

It's actually intact, with not a single flaw, as if…… as if it were originally from the very same piece!

In my mind, suddenly flashed the sight of Bu Sha wanting to speak but holding back, his eyes full of anguish, almost going mad.

He said: "Qi, if you keep indulging in the past, closing your eyes and your heart, someday…… you will regret it!"

He said: "You will someday regret it."

"Mo Yan——!!" Qi Ran rushed out of the house with somewhat panicked steps, shouting loudly.

In the darkness I only sensed a shadow flicker; Mo Yan had already bowed and stood before him, head lowered, saying: "Young master, may I ask what are your orders?"

"Where is she?" Qi Ran clenched his fists, trying to steady his tone.

The greater the hope, the more devastating the despair when it arrives; he knows this better than anyone. So, do not harbor hope, never…… do not harbor hope!

"What?" Mo Yan stared for a moment, then lifted his head in astonishment at this young master, who for some reason was quite different from usual, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly how.

Qi Ran brushed past him, saying lightly: "Where is she imprisoned? Take me there."

"Yes!" Mo Yan's heart jolted; he quickly lowered his head and led the way ahead.

Mo Yan glanced disapprovingly at the jail officials and guards who had been stunned by Qi Ran's appearance, then looked around at the harsh environment, and involuntarily felt worried as he turned back: "Young master, this place is rather chaotic; be careful."

Qi Ran's face showed no ripple, calm and indifferent as he nodded slightly, as if he felt none of the damp moldiness and nauseating humidity here.

Mo Yan stopped before an ordinary cell, and through the wooden door called to the girl curled up inside: "Miss Ruo, please come out for a moment; the young master wishes to see you."

The girl in the cell remained lying curled up, motionless. Mo Yan frowned and called a few more times, but there was still no response.

He suddenly recalled that the girl had just appeared very weak, her cheeks flushed with a sickly blush; perhaps…… at the moment his heart stirred, he only felt a shadow flash before his eyes.

He stared up in astonishment, discovering that the young master had actually pulled off the door lock, shoved the door open, and slipped into the cell. He gasped, then hurriedly followed him inside.

Qiran stood silently before the curled-up, sleeping girl, yet he lacked the courage to take another step forward. His eyes were still and waveless, his face icy and indifferent, but his heart surged like a stormy sea, constantly churning and cleansing.

The girl's face was hidden by disheveled hair, indistinct; her frail body curled slightly, trembling continuously. Each tremor felt like a thorn dragging across his chest, a heart-wrenching pain.

Moyan hurried past Qiran, lifted the girl, felt her forehead, and found it scorching hot. Startled, he quickly scooped her up in a horizontal hold, walked to Qiran, and frowned, saying, "Young master, it seems she is ill…"

Moyan's whole body jolted; he had never seen the young master look like that, with that expression, staring at the girl in his arms—as if he could not believe it even with all his strength, yet also as if he were watching a life slipping away and returning, frantic to burn himself and her together to ash and melt.

He slowly lowered his head; the girl in his arms trembled all over, her cheeks flushed, beads of crystal sweat appearing on her forehead, yet her expression was unusually… deathly still, calm and peaceful.

Qiran slowly extended his trembling hands, taking the girl from Moyan's embrace; his pale hands reflected her face, burning like fire, yet it was the same trembling, the same intense pain…

The girl in his arms seemed to sense something; she shifted slightly, leaning closer, her flushed lips curling faintly, revealing a light, shallow smile.

That smile was pure as clear crystal, light as a lily in the wind, yet brilliant as the sunset's glow, as if it would burn away a lifetime of beauty, an eternal radiance…

"Bingyi…" Qiran tightly gripped with his right hand, whispering silently, his trembling, icy fingers slowly brushing her burning cheek; fear like a devouring flame spread through his heart, as if… his soul would not be destroyed unless his heart refused to relent!

"Boom—" the dungeon shuddered as if about to collapse, dirt and rain falling down, carrying boundless fear, longing, and obsession, letting everyone in the cell feel it—the profound emotion diffusing through this damp underground, as if it could destroy heaven and earth.

Qiran clutched the girl in his arms and rushed out like a madman. Anyone or anything—person, wall, door—that stood in his way was blasted aside with a single palm, collapsing…

At this moment, his mind held nothing; he knew no avoidance, no restraint, no thought, and even… no regret.

At this moment, his mind, heart, and every cell of his body were filled to bursting, swollen to numb agony. He knew only one thing: Bingyi must not die! No one… could take Bingyi away from him again…

No one! He swore, even the god of death—could not!

(End of chapter)