Chapter 114: Fourteen Letters

Nostalgia is a rope, one end tied to the present, the other to the past.

Shen Siyuan followed Feifei’s longing and found her father, Sun Yun.

Sun Yun was not unwilling to return and visit his wife and daughter—he was powerless to do so.

Afterward, for reasons unknown, his soul became fragmented, dazed and numb; these days, he endlessly repeated his pre-death work, utterly unaware he had died.

If not for Shen Siyuan, he would not have known

But Chen Hai would not expect her to follow him, especially after he told her she must face everything alone.

Seeing Jin Hongjun and Shui Xianliang flanking him from both sides, Qin Long’s eyes filled with despair—he was already gravely wounded. Though Mu Youtian had arrived with reinforcements, the gap between the two sides was too great, and Huo Rong had long since ascended. Had Qin Long truly reached his end?

Yuan Shuai crouched down to examine the bloodstains on the ground. Since the livestock deaths occurred here, no one had tended the place, so all the traces left behind remained clearly visible before Yuan Shuai’s eyes.

The elm trees along the road had lost most of their leaves; a gust of autumn wind stirred the scattered elm seeds on the ground, rustling as they slid from east to west along the roadside.

The instructors were all serious, but compared to what Qing’er had endured, these instructors were truly gentle—their eyes held no malice, only frustration at their students’ failures, and genuine pity when they saw them in pain.

Yue Jingyu was a competent hall master; though he was a bit reckless, arrogant, and dismissive of the orthodox sects, this did not diminish the fact that he was a good hall master—he had devoted more effort to this role than any of his predecessors, yet still, nothing had come of it.

Yi Qi, Yi Qi—you’ve just passed the imperial exam, radiant and triumphant. I feared speaking now might dampen your spirits, but… but I truly cannot stay silent. Yue Qing wrestled with this for a moment, then decided: better to wait a few more days.

Yue Qing’s trip to the capital lasted about ten days; as soon as the wine shop stabilized, she hurriedly left. She had to seize this chance in the capital to handle Lianxiang and the road repair. If she waited until her next visit, who knew when that would be.

The prince punched me in the arm and scolded with a laugh: “Our Boss Gao came to support you—can’t you say something more refined, you brat?” Then he winked at me, signaling that my teasing had been spot-on.

I nodded. Indeed, Mo Han was seen more clearly by everyone—what kind of experiences had given her this detachment, this release beyond emotion?

Lu Xi and Gao Tuan both froze. Lord Lu San, the third son of Lady Lu’s elder brother, was also the cousin of the Gao brothers—what was he doing here now?

“Did the Jie tribe really have a locust plague?” Even with preparation, Shi Ping’s heart sank upon hearing the news.

He loved her so much, adored her so deeply, yet stood at such a distance—every thread, every whisper of her presence reached him, yet he could not hold her in his arms, though she was right before him. Only he could understand this pain.

People fear not because the object or illusion before them is terrifying, but because of inner shadows, memories of terror deeply rooted in the soul from some past moment, causing them to tremble involuntarily at any similar scene.

Ashu’s gesture paused—she had thought she’d imagined it, but now she was certain she had not.

When she returned to the lakeside villa, the lights were off. She hadn’t seen Mo Yitian in a week; when she messaged him in the afternoon, he didn’t reply—and now, he wasn’t even home.

Liu Yu saw the many boxes still left outside the hall. Seeing Gao Wei’s display, it was clear he had no intention of taking them—so Liu Yu certainly wouldn’t let him leave now. “High Official Gao, I’ll just change my clothes and come right out.” With that, she walked straight inside.