Frühlingsreise - Kapitel 58
This is the home of a killer who earns a million taels of silver a year. The most luxurious thing is that small bed, with the softest bedding and the most exquisite mosquito net, and the pillows look incredibly fluffy. She is his little princess.
Yang Luoxue was examining the dregs of the medicine in the courtyard, holding the prescription written by the Medicine King in her hand. After squatting for a long time, she swayed slightly when she stood up, her vision blurred, and she steadied herself before going into the house.
“This is already the most perfect prescription. But she needs more tonics now, so I added two more ingredients to it.” As she spoke, Yang Luoxue looked at Xiao Yan, who was sitting obediently on the stool, and sighed slightly. “But I advise you to stop. This kind of illness, even with daily medication, won’t last past this year.”
"Every day I live is a day I can't let her die in front of me..." Zhan Yuan's voice was low and hoarse.
Yang Luoxue didn't say anything more. Baili Wushuang stood with her back to the door, her back ramrod straight, no matter where she was, whether sitting or standing, her back was always straight. Yang Luoxue walked in, sat down in front of Xiao Yan, and suddenly said, "Xiao Yan, would you like to hear a story?"
Baili Wushuang glanced sideways, never expecting that someone like him would have the time to tell stories to children.
Xiao Yan was naturally very happy, so she asked Luo Xue to say, "There was once a divine doctor in heaven. His medical skills were very high and he could cure all diseases. However, every time he saved a person, his own body would be damaged. But he kept saving people and eventually he slowly became weak and exhausted."
Chapter 108
Will I die?
"Yes, but his best friend eventually sent him to a place where time moves very, very slowly, a place where he could live a little longer."
Xiao Yan blinked. "But in the end, they'll still die, won't they?"
"Yeah, everyone has to die eventually."
“I thought you would actually tell a story to a child,” Baili Wushuang said coldly.
"So, should I sit coldly in front of her like a spoiled young lady?"
“At least I wouldn’t tell this kind of story to a child.”
—These two people…shouldn’t be sitting next to Xiao Yan…Zhan Yuan awkwardly picked Xiao Yan up from between them.
After a moment of silence, Baili Wushuang asked, "What exactly is the illness that child has?"
"I don't know." Yang Luoxue's voice was very soft, just like the tone he used when telling Xiaoyan the story earlier, light and flat. The room was not very bright. He sat to her side, his long, flowing hair hanging down, obscuring his face. Only his long eyelashes, like dark lines, were visible. "Master doesn't know the cause of this disease either. He only knows that if you get this disease, you will age rapidly in a very short time, your hair will turn white, your eyes will go blind, and then you will lose all five aggregates and die."
Is there no way to cure it?
"Yes, it's a terminal illness." When he said the word "terminal illness," he smiled, a bitter and sharp smile. Then he tilted his head slightly and leaned against the table—his body, after the acupuncture treatment, could no longer withstand the strain, and he fell asleep exhausted.
Baili Wushuang recalled the first time she saw him, when he saved the monk: "...If you meet that doctor again, tell him: There are no incurable diseases in the world, only quack doctors."
He spoke with such pride back then.
When Yang Luoxue woke up, it was late at night. The sky and earth were shrouded in mist, with only the distant barking of dogs. She was sleeping on Zhan Yuan's bed, while Zhan Yuan was leaning against Xiao Yan's headboard. He got out of bed and walked into the courtyard. The early spring night wind was a bit chilly, and his current weakness was no match for the cold. He sneezed.
"who?"
A sound drifted down in the still night. He took two steps back and saw someone sitting vaguely on the roof. The sound was a little cold, a little low, a little like the wind blowing through a konghou (a type of Chinese harp). There was no one else there.
He gathered his breath and climbed onto the roof. There, under the sparse starlight, he saw Baili Wushuang sitting upright on the ridge, a sword clutched in his arms. "So you're here?!" Yang Luoxue also sat down on the ridge, looking around. "Where's your maid?"
"They stayed at the inn."
Why aren't you going?
"I have to keep an eye on Zhan Yuan."
"Are you still going to send him to Yuewei Pavilion?" Yang Luoxue turned around. "What about Xiaoyan?"
Baili Wushuang tightened her grip on her sword. Only then did Yang Luoxue notice that the person she was holding in her arms was not Chongli, whom she had always cherished, but Qifeng. She said, "I cannot forgive him for using Qifeng to kill someone."
"Since you forged a sword, you should have thought that its sharpness would one day be used to hurt people."
“Other swords are fine…” Baili Wushuang’s voice was low, “but not Qifeng.”
Yang Luoxue looked at her, not understanding her obsessive attachment to the sword. Normally, he would have made a sarcastic remark, but under the dim starlight and in the chilly night wind, hearing the barely perceptible hoarseness in her voice, a strange feeling stirred within him. He asked, "Is there anything different about this one?"
Chapter 109
“This is the first sword I’ve forged,” Baili Wushuang said. She paused for a long time after that, so long that one might suspect the conversation had ended there. But Yang Luoxue continued to watch her quietly, and though it was hard to explain why, he knew she had something to say.
There are some things I want to say that I rarely mention and that have been buried deep within my heart.
Intuitively, I felt that it would be better if those words were spoken.
With a soft "clang," Baili Wushuang drew Qifeng from its sheath. A truly fine sword, when drawn, produces a sound like a dragon's roar, a sound that lingered long in the quiet night. Baili Wushuang's fingertips traced the blade, and she said softly, "When I was ten, I first entered the Beiling Tower. Two years later, I forged this sword. From that moment on, I became the foremost swordsmith in Suoding City." Her voice was low and soft. "While refining the raw iron, I threw my mother's most cherished black gold hairpin into the furnace. I wanted to preserve my longing for my mother in the most precious way. But Father wanted to send Qifeng away. Suoding City, as one of the four great powers, has always been the most mysterious and the most silent. Father said that Suoding City hasn't seen a divine weapon appear for too long, and Qifeng's appearance is perfectly timed; Suoding City desperately needs it to showcase itself to the world." She tilted her head slightly, letting out a long, deep breath. "So, Qifeng was sent away."
A twelve-year-old child was forced to give up what she loved most. Any girl that age would surely have resorted to all sorts of tantrums and pouting, right? But Yang Luoxue could imagine that the twelve-year-old Baili Wushuang must have silently handed over Qifeng.
Although at the moment of handing it over, the fingertips seemed to have their own consciousness and wanted to take it back, in the end, they let go.
This is the tragedy of being born into a prestigious family.
Often, they don't have their own identity, only their sect.
Even though she was just a girl, even though she was only twelve years old.
"I originally thought that Wenwu Academy was the head of the four major powers, with Yuewei Pavilion above it managing the affairs of the martial world. Qifeng giving it to Wenwu Academy was just putting it in a different place. But I never expected that it would be used to kill people."
The snow fell silently.
Baili Wushuang suddenly asked, "Why are you a vegetarian?"
"...I don't like the taste of meat."
"That's true. Someone like you who would use a little girl to shield you from an attack probably isn't a vegetarian out of pity for those animals."
Yang Luoxue raised an eyebrow, about to speak, but ultimately held back. He reached out and picked up a strand of hair, twirling it around his finger—for the first time, he didn't refute the harsh words.