Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios
Zhangsun Wuji slanted his head, and his usually calm fingers slightly trembled. He let go of the teacup that had been on his palm, keeping his hand into his sleeve.
There was a type of pain that he could not lessen, but he had to suffer along with her.
But Meng Fuyao suddenly stopped crying.
Time was precious. Tears would only blur her vision of her mother’s face, and that was too much of a waste.
She tried hard to blink her eyes wide open. Then, she heard a bang as the door to the ward was being pushed open, and a crowd of people barged in.
The one in front had a big physique – Fatty.
Fatty, who had cried for his parents in the ancient tomb, whose bum she had attacked.
He was followed by the others… all her colleagues from the excavation team. Fatty was carrying a huge pot, and the others brought in food. They laughed as they walked in, bringing some liveliness to the remote room. Then, they set up the hot pot and plated the lamb meat.
“Aunt, let’s eat hot pot together!”
On the bed, her mother smiled and said, “I have troubled all of you once again…”
“Don’t be so polite, this is what we should be doing. Meng Fuyao isn’t around, we…” one had yet to complete his sentence when he was poked by someone else, and he promptly stopped talking.
Her mother was still smiling, and she meticulously closed the book and caressed the cover page. “She’s here… she’s in my heart,” she said.
‘Mother…’
Meng Fuyao instinctively dashed forward, wanting to run into the warmth that was a world away. Yet the illusion shook, resembling waves of a pond, and the scenery slowly faded into a mist of white light.
Feeling anxious, Meng Fuyao hurriedly tried to grab the scene in front of her, but all she grabbed was cold emptiness, and nearly dislocated Bagu’s nose.
Bagu’s face was full of perspiration. The long sustenance of the illusion had utterly exhausted him. Closing his palm, he said, “You promised to let me go.”
Meng Fuyao contemplated – she had other plans.
Looking at her expression, Bagu seemed to realize something. Hurriedly, he added, “I can only perform this thrice in my lifetime. That was the third time, don’t dwell over it.”
In an instant, Meng Fuyao nearly collapsed. But after that depression came immense hatred. She suddenly looked up at Bagu, her eyes resembling that of a starving wolf, causing Bagu to shiver. He shouted, “You’re going back on your promise!”
However, Meng Fuyao pushed him away, barking, “Scram!”
Like a mad woman on the streets, she forcefully pushed Bagu again, sprouting a string of “scram, scram, scram, scram, scram, scram, scram!” as she did.
Bagu, with his pale-white complexion and black eyes, stared at Meng Fuyao who had embarrassed him in front of all the martial arts wielders in the world, and he clenched his fist so tight that the cracking of his knuckles could be heard. Suddenly, he felt an icy stare that landed on his back, and it was so sharp that he seemed to feel the pain of it. When he looked back, he saw the composed Zhangsun Wuji sitting on the jade steps, smiling at him.
That smile made him tremble and not dare to do anything else. Lowering his head, he swiftly walked away.
The stage was left with only Meng Fuyao and Pei Yuan – Ya Lanzhu was blown away by Meng Fuyao’s strike earlier on. Without much inner energy left, she fainted out of exhaustion. Pei Yuan laid on the floor and panted hard. Her five fingers were crimson red, but it certainly did not look like blood.
While Pei Yuan laid, Meng Fuyao crouched. One seemed unable to push herself up anymore, while the other continuously coughed up blood.
The fight for the champion of the True Martial Arts Meet was approaching a devastating ending.
At that point in time, everyone could not decipher who would emerge as the winner – the alleged champion seemed like she could be shoved away with just a push of the finger. It really depended on who’s the luckier one. Whoever could draw out her last bit of strength to strike down the other party would be the champion!
Meanwhile, Meng Fuyao hugged her knees and stared at her reflection in the pond of blood in a state of mental numbness. Who was that person in there? Where did the red-haired demon go?
Meng Fuyao was so engrossed at the sight in front of her that she did not realize the exclamations of shock that rang beside her. Pei Yuan had propped herself up on her elbow and was struggling to stand up.
Pei Yuan crawled very slowly, and she had just lifted her body off the ground when she immediately collapsed again. Nonetheless, she took a few deep breaths and relentlessly, tried to lift herself up again.
After a full 10 minutes, she finally staggered onto her feet.
On the other hand, Meng Fuyao continued to squat on the ground, and she seemed to have forgotten about her surroundings from scrutinizing her reflection. She was not resigned – the pool of blood reflected the caisson and the four walls of dragon murals, but it never again reflected the people and events that she wanted to see.
Stupefied, she stained her fingertip with blood and slowly drew on the ground, one round… one bend…
Someone was gently calling out for her by her ear, trying to wake her up at such a crucial moment. It was his elegant and mellow voice.
“Fuyao…”
Pei Yuan panted as she approached.
… One more curve… then, two small triangles…
“Fuyao!”
Moments later, Pei Yuan finally walked up to the back of Meng Fuyao.
But Meng Fuyao continued to be engrossed in her drawing… Just one more stroke left…
Under the scrutiny of all the spectators, the childish drawing that was simultaneously completed when the enemy approached, was finally presented on the expensive and bright golden tiles.
Duck.
As she finished the last stroke, Pei Yuan had also raised her palm. With her blood-red fingers, she thrust her hand towards Meng Fuyao’s head!
“… Fuyao!”
Meng Fuyao suddenly looked up!
Almost immediately, she fell to the side.
As she fell, she glided away, causing Pei Yuan’s strike to miss, upsetting the latter’s balance. Pei Yuan thus fell forward, and in that instant, she crossed Meng Fuyao’s body in the perpendicular direction.
In that instant, when they crossed.
A glimmer of black light flashed by.
Blood splattered out like a silky ribbon, before extending to form what seemed like a huge umbrella. It was passionate and fiery, like the flame that swayed on a burning torch.
A torch that burned away one’s life.
Pei Yuan let out a very short “Ah!” from her throat.
That sounded like a murmur produced when one experienced the emptiness after waking up from a dream.
She collapsed gently, like a flower that suddenly withered, or a wisp of cloud that was blown away by winds in the mountain, or even a goose that flew away and never came back.
21 years of age ended at this date. All the gratification, grievances and tangled emotions that resulted because of love broke apart, resembling a silk string placed against a sharp knife.
Maybe, from the moment that Pei Yuan first met him, her life was already destined to fall into a dark abyss.
That was because she fell in love with a man who had no interest in her. Both ladies had crossed paths till then, but Pei Yuan had collapsed halfway, while Meng Fuyao continued to proceed after clearing the blood on her sword.
Life was so wide yet so confined. It could encompass land from seas away, but it could not tolerate the narrow-minded thoughts of calculative or manipulative characters.
As Pei Yuan laid on the ground, she could feel the wind breezing past her. In the extreme heat, she felt a cold chill, just like the one she experienced the first time she met him in winter. Layers of snowflakes landed on her face, and her freezing hands were held by her Teacher. She took a shy look across the foreign courtyard, and that handsome lad who was sweeping the snow in front of the cherry blossom tree turned back and smiled, and spring seemed to have arrived.
He said, “Morning, Junior Sister.”
That year, she stared at him in a daze and forgot to answer.
Pei Yuan gently beamed… how could she not answer? That was the last chance for her to do so in her lifetime.
She closed her eyes and murmured, “The wind is strong, and the snow is frosty. Senior Brother… take care.”
The True Martial Arts Meet had come to an end!
An end that happened in the most tragic way.
Zhan Nancheng opened his mouth a few times, but he just couldn’t bring himself to congratulate Meng Fuyao. After moments of silence, Zhan Beiheng finally said, “The winner is Meng Fuyao of Wuji!”
There was an uproar among the spectators as they feigned joy in the face of the blood and corpse. Many came up to congratulate Meng Fuyao, and Zhan Nancheng vaguely spoke about something related to a celebratory feast.
Meng Fuyao almost drowned in the sea of endless conversations and saliva, and she stared at them in a daze, with no idea what they were communicating about. She only knew that they were giving her migraines, and they even stepped on her duck!
Someone squeezed forward to hold her hand – it was Ya Lanzhu who had slightly recovered. She pushed away the crowd, oblivious to their prominent statuses and shouted straightforwardly, “Clear the path, we want to go home!”
They wanted to go home.
But where was home?
Meng Fuyao was clueless even as Ya Lanzhu dragged her out. She could vaguely feel a warm but pain-filled gaze lingering on her, but she had no strength left to bother with it. All she wanted was to leave that place quickly and sleep, and hopefully, she might be able to relive the earlier moments in her dreams.
The crowd dispersed, and they proceeded to exit the palace. However, someone still chose to block their paths. The pearl-white dress embroidered with exquisite lotuses gently swayed to the breeze, and that person was as demure as a lotus.
Princess Lotus said in a holy manner, “Congratulations General Meng, I thank you for helping me out the other time. I have arranged for a small feast for you…”
“Can you shut up?”
Princess Lotus quietened in shock. Meng Fuyao raised her head, and though resembling a rabbit with her bloodshot eyes, she looked at Lotus with such annoyance that she seemed like a wolf. Gritting her teeth, she enunciated her words clearly. “Rotten lotus, please, go act innocent in front of everyone else, but not me, especially now! Did you know that I f*cking want to vomit whenever I see your pretense? I’ve had enough of vomiting today!”
Princess Lotus seemed as though she was struck by a hammer, and she turned ashen as she staggered back. Supporting herself with the pillar, her voice changed when she spoke, “You… you…”
“I dislike you, and that’s that.” Meng Fuyao brushed past her and added, “I’m not in a good mood and serves you right for being unlucky. Let me curse for you.”
Meng Fuyao turned her head and approached Princess Lotus. Revealing a ghastly smile, she whispered by her ear, “Stop fronting, do it and you’ll get struck by lightning! Stop acting pure, do it and you’ll get raped!”
She chuckled, and a mouthful of blood trickled down her face. Wiping it off, Meng Fuyao stretched her arms wide and strolled away. “Feels so good!”
No matter how torn and tattered that lotus was as a result of her words, Meng Fuyao walked past the layers of exits without taking a look back. Under the scrutiny of those envious, surprised or jealous, she stepped out of the hell that she had to spill blood for. As the doors opened up one by one, the sunset shone in, creating a belt of light that seemed like a red carpet that stretched far away, allowing Meng Fuyao to tread on it. She had finally reached this day and got what she wanted. Yet, heaven had to send her a joke which seemed to be a surprise that sprung out of a toy box, hitting her where she hurt the most.
