Schatzkammer von Jianghu

Kapitel 51

Leng Shuangcheng sighed again and steadied herself without moving.

Qiu Yeyi extended her left hand, revealing her pale, slender fingers, while her right hand was behind her back, palm facing upwards: "Come here!"

Leng Shuangcheng looked at his palm and suddenly understood what he meant by this action—her father had taught her a saying: "In life and in death, we made a vow. Holding your hand, we will grow old together."

A light mist swirled around them, and the water murmured softly. On the silent Jinliang Street, Qiu Yeyijian did not allow Leng Shuangcheng to break free as he pleased. With a solemn expression, he extended his left hand, giving the composed and reserved Leng Shuangcheng, who had been keeping a low profile since his departure from Wufang, a choice.

Leng Shuangcheng recalled the five-colored glazed door and kept wondering what Wei Wuyi's feelings were at that moment.

If we step out, will we find a way to survive? If we move on, will we have no regrets for the rest of our lives?

24. Drunkenness

The grass and trees know that spring will soon be gone, and all kinds of red and purple flowers vie for beauty.

The chill of early spring came and went quickly. A New Year's Eve snowfall swept away the harshness of the world and brought spring to Kaifeng. The warm spring sun and gentle breeze carried the changing seasons throughout the Ye family estate, leaving behind a tapestry of pale green and vibrant colors, each cluster a silent cry from the earth.

A gentle breeze urges the yellow birds to sing, and the clear sunlight turns the duckweed green. Leng Shuangcheng stared at the lush green grass before her, realizing that her father had been wrong. It wasn't that the grass was green from afar but not up close; rather, the fragrant grass was abundant, and the feeling of spring rose from beneath her feet. She looked around, and apart from Wu Sanshou beside her, everything seemed full of vitality.

Wu Sanshou sat quietly in his chair, the warm sunlight casting a shimmering glow on him. He stared intently at a patch of tender grass, his eyes unwavering and unblinking. Leng Shuangcheng sat on a small stool at his feet, occasionally glancing at the spring scenery, but in her spare time, she would gaze at his face in silent contemplation.

"Wu You, are you still unwilling to wake up?" Leng Shuangcheng took out two dice and stretched out her right palm, the dice rolling around in her hand: "You're not even willing to learn your favorite gambling skills anymore?"

Wu Sanshou's pupils remained unchanged, still staring at the bushes with a blank expression, devoid of desire, joy, or worry.

Leng Shuangcheng sighed, stood up, walked to him, and looked down at him: "I was hoping to take you to Yangzhou. The place where I was born is ten times more beautiful than here. Even in the season when the mountains are covered in snow, the red maple leaves dotting the white snow like willow catkins are quiet and like a fairyland..."

Leng Shuangcheng described in detail the old house she had longed for, and seeing that the person in front of her remained indifferent, she sighed and said, "It's a pity we can never go back... Please sit here a little longer, I'll go and look into your prescription..."

The garden was tranquil and lush, with flowers blooming silently and buds sprouting from the gray-white treetops. The air was filled with the murmur of insects, and breaking through the stillness of spring, a pure white figure slowly approached.

Qiu Ye stood before Wu Sanshou with her sword at her sides, staring at the top of his head for a long time before coldly saying, "If I could stay by Leng Shuangcheng's side, I would rather be the fool."

As Leng Shuangcheng walked through the winding corridors, a rich fragrance wafted towards her, causing her to stop in her hurried steps. Bright and beautiful, the warm sunlight framed the layered pavilions and carved beams in countless shimmering patterns, and what caught the eye most in the light were the vast expanses of vibrant flowers in front of and behind An Jie's residence.

The evening blossoms fall softly, their delicate red petals fluttering lightly. A few green dots dot the clusters, and everywhere, ten or five branches bear flowers.

Leng Shuangcheng understood why Qiu Yeyijian was able to find that crabapple blossom among the myriad flowers that day. If there were such a master of flowers and trees on the island, deeply influenced by her from childhood, it would be truly remarkable if the young master of Bixie did not become the best among them.

Leng Shuangcheng carefully avoided the sea of flowers at her feet, walked to the front of the house, and gently knocked on the door: "Master An!"

"Come in! You're a good child, you even know how to cherish my flowers..." A gentle and cheerful voice came from inside the door.

Leng Shuangcheng entered the room with a smile. The room was also filled with flowers, and sitting somewhat out of place was An Jie, the imperial chef of the Ye family—he had a round, ruddy face, and his belly was protruding like a Maitreya Buddha. Leng Shuangcheng immediately understood why An Jie's face was so red and his eyebrows were dancing with excitement. It was because he had also been drinking that New Year's morning, and it seemed he had drunk quite a bit. Several small porcelain wine jars with floral patterns lay scattered on the table.

"Master An," Leng Shuangcheng cleared his throat, trying to sound as casual as possible, "I have something I'd like to ask you..."

“Let’s drink.” An Jie waved his fat hand and said decisively, “Whatever you want to know, drink first. If you drink with me and make me happy, I’ll tell you anything.”

Leng Shuangcheng's heart skipped a beat. She swallowed hard and said woodenly, "This junior is not a good drinker and is afraid of being presumptuous in front of Master Anjie..."

An Jie had never heard of such a thing before. He poured himself a cup of wine, its color clear and its aroma filling the air. He snorted, "Do you think ordinary people can just drink my homemade flower wine like that...? Same rules as always, a few questions for a few cups of wine, drink first and then we'll talk..."

Leng Shuangcheng glanced at An Jie's face, gritted his teeth, and said, "Alright, I've overstepped my bounds... Please, Master An, pour me two cups of wine."

"Frank, more frank than those other guys!" An Jie said with a smile, then placed another cup of wine in front of Leng Shuangcheng. Leng Shuangcheng didn't dare to ask any more questions; if he did, wouldn't he have to drink another cup?

Leng Shuangcheng lowered her eyes, quickly picked up the first cup of wine, and drank it all in one gulp. A burning sensation spread through her chest, but after only a moment, the aftereffects of the Shaoxing wine spurted at her forehead, making her vision blurry. Leng Shuangcheng struggled to suppress the heat coursing through her limbs, closed her eyes briefly, and spoke calmly, "Why is Wu Sanshou still not fully conscious?"

An Jie stared intently at Leng Shuangcheng's face, carefully examining it. He noticed that the man's complexion was still fair and his eyes were bright. With some skepticism, he replied, "A mental illness requires a mental cure. Wu Sanshou is still immersed in his past grief, so naturally he cannot be clear-headed... His body is fine now; he just needs to recuperate slowly."

Leng Shuangcheng slowly stroked the rim of the celadon cup with her right hand, using the strength in her hand to steady her thoughts, her face still desolate. Her pupils shone brightly like a mountain stream as she stared directly at An Jie, her body motionless as she drank the second cup of wine.

What is "Forget-Me-Not Powder"?

An Jie grinned, "So you've come for the young master too." After glancing at Leng Shuangcheng's calm expression, he laughed heartily and said, "Daylilies sprout, encroaching on the snow's whiteness. Daylilies are a kind of herb that can make people forget their worries, and the Forget-Worry Powder is extracted from daylilies. Those who take it experience a heart-wrenching pain every day at midnight, and after a month, they can forget all their worries, hence the name Forget-Worry Powder."

“‘The snow-covered daylilies are still encroaching on the snow, and the willow branches are leaking the spring light,’ the rumor is true after all…” Leng Shuangcheng’s will gradually dissipated, and she murmured to herself, “Does that mean I won’t remember anything at all…”

An Jie looked into Leng Shuangcheng's pupils and laughed: "Of course, if you hypnotize her, even her own father won't remember..." Before he finished speaking, Leng Shuangcheng slowly lowered her body like a ball of cotton and closed her bright and clear eyes.

An Jie was taken aback. He quickly stood up and reached out to examine Leng Shuangcheng's face, shouting anxiously, "How can you be so useless? How can you be so useless... Weren't your eyes wide open just now...?" Before his hand could touch Leng Shuangcheng's body, he suddenly stopped moving.

The house was filled with a thick, murderous aura, more potent than fine wine and as fierce as flames. Even An Jie, who was as dense as wood, could feel the icy, snow-like chill in the air. Only one person could do this, just like that night ten years ago, when they got An Jie, who could drink a thousand cups without getting drunk, into a state of limpness like cotton, and then threw him under the city gate.

Beads of cold sweat slid down his neck. An Jie held his breath and slowly looked up to his right, meeting a pair of deep, dark pupils.

“Young Master…” An Jie grinned silently, his face twitching slightly.

Qiu Yeyi stared coldly at An Jie's right hand, and that hand immediately froze in mid-air.

"Do you think she's Cheng Xiang? Someone you can fool so easily?" Qiu Yeyijian reached out and pulled Leng Shuangcheng into a tight embrace. "I can't bear to see her suffer even the slightest bit, how dare you be so presumptuous!"

An Jie dared not look into Qiu Ye Yijian's eyes. Those phoenix eyes had been long and narrow since childhood, with a sharp edge hidden within them. Combined with the young master's incomparably handsome and indifferent face, his eyes were either filled with stormy winds and thunder or calm waves. When he was silent, he was imposing and undisguised. When he spoke, his voice was like an ancient well and a cold pool, leaving no ripples in one's heart.

—According to outsiders, there is only one person who is not afraid of the young master's gaze, and only this person can make the young master obey him. However, this person has been drunk by him and is currently in the young master's arms.

An Jie was sweating profusely, feeling anxious and uneasy. He kept saying he regretted getting up early to drink, forgetting about the matter in his drunken state.

Qiu Yeyi coldly stared at An Jie's embarrassed face, her eyes turning black in the shadows: "An Jie, do you still remember the rules of Bixie Manor?"

An Jie dared not move, but bowed and replied, "I remember... those who trespass into the manor will be either killed or made slaves, or women will be made prostitutes... An Jie is grateful for your hospitality, and is willing to serve you like a dog."

Qiu Yeyijian waited for An Jie to finish speaking before speaking in a cold voice: "Leng Shuangcheng first settled in the border courtyard, eventually left Wufang, and now she's back by my side. What do you think her identity is?"

An Jie suddenly remembered the stone tablet in front of the East Pavilion. The stone tablet was hidden in the deep green wood, and the inscription on it was engraved with several large characters in a crisscross pattern: Bixie Manor's Last Instructions: Anyone who trespasses into the manor will be spared by the previous manor lords if they are not killed, and will be made a slave. If a woman is spared, she will be made a young mistress.

An Jie looked up in astonishment, his eyes glazed over: "It's...it's the young mistress." As soon as he finished speaking, he seemed to understand something, his body swaying as he leaned against the table to steady himself: "An Jie deserves to die...for his insubordination."

Qiu Yeyi coldly replied, "Good that you know. Do you have anything else to say?"

Seeing that he was facing a life-or-death situation, An Jie's mind raced. His round eyes darted left and right: "Young Master, if An Jie can give you a reason that will put your mind at ease, will you not pursue my mistakes?"

Qiu Yeyi lowered his head and gazed at Leng Shuangcheng. The person in his arms was breathing evenly, lying gently and harmlessly on his chest, no longer seeping into his hand like mist, floating far away on the branch. Looking at such a peaceful and serene face, amidst such a magnificent and colorful sea of flowers in the room, he felt the softest corner of his heart begin to spread. A gentle breeze blew, turning the flowers and trees on the ground green.

An Jie glanced at the young master's expression and boldly said, "Guard Leng is usually extremely respectful and distant towards you, but now he is intimately entwined in your arms. An Jie dares to remind you, isn't this a beautiful thing brought together by fate?"

After saying that, An Jie couldn't help but chuckle awkwardly. He looked up and saw the young master's cold and unchanging gaze, and was stunned into silence.

Those unfamiliar with An Jie would certainly be misled by his words, but Qiu Yeyijian, having grown up in Wufang since childhood, knew his habit of being fond of wine but not of women; otherwise, he wouldn't have allowed him to stay by her side for twenty years. His statement about fate bringing them together meant that Leng Shuangcheng's closeness to him was indeed a blessing he couldn't have prayed for in ordinary times.

Qiu Yeyi glanced down at Leng Shuangcheng again, then turned and left with an icy demeanor.

A hundred flowers bloom, red blossoms and green willows sway in the breeze. Passing through courtyards and pavilions, winding corridors, the spring scenery dazzles the eyes all the way. Autumn Leaves, leaning on its sword, ignores its servants who prostrate themselves on the ground and strides forward proudly, like a lofty god who cannot be looked up to, calmly arriving at its pavilion.

The incense smoke curled gently, the green gauze curtains swayed, the golden pillars and screens stood tall, and the brocade curtains hung high. All the decorations in the room remained unchanged, the scenery the same. But without Leng Shuangcheng by the window, Qiu Ye Yijian felt as if a piece of her life was incomplete.

He carefully placed her on the bed where she usually rested, pulled the silk quilt over her, tucked her in at the four corners, and lowered his head to look at her silently.

A calm face, devoid of any human suffering; eyes that concealed their light, having witnessed the coldness and warmth of human relationships and the vicissitudes of life; cruel lips that uttered words that burned fiercely within him. Qiu Yeyijian stared intently at this face, still scrutinizing it with greed.

Five days have passed since the Red Sleeve Enclosure.

For the past five days, he has been living in dire straits.

Leng Shuangcheng looked at the palm, watching his gaze deepen in the moonlight, as if it had layers of different shades of color, becoming more intense towards the inside and lighter towards the surface, where it was like glass.

She bravely met his gaze, walked to a stop three feet away from Qiu Yeyijian, and said calmly, "Young master, you are of noble birth. This servant is willing to serve you by your side for three years."

Qiu Ye Yijian's face turned deathly pale, appearing almost translucent. Like a drowning person, he opened his mouth to say something, but ultimately uttered no sound—hearing her first self-reference as "this servant," Qiu Ye Yijian understood immediately. What else could she possibly ask him to do? What else could she possibly say? His heart was filled with immense grief, his handsome face trembling uncontrollably: How clever Leng Shuangcheng is! How cruel Leng Shuangcheng is!

So what Dongge said—that Chu Yi had diligently studied classics in the Qingyi Camp for months—was true. This deep and secretive young man might have seen the inscription on the stele. However, by calling herself a servant, she was essentially agreeing to become a slave in the manor, thus diminishing her title as the young mistress. —She still didn't want to spend her life by Qiu Ye Yijian's side.

Qiu Ye Yijian couldn't remember how he had forgotten to board the Hualong carriage, or how he had walked back to the Ye residence, shrouded in the cold morning mist. Leng Shuangcheng followed silently behind him the entire time, keeping a distance of three feet without uttering a word. From that day on, Qiu Ye Yijian suppressed the cold anger in his heart, passing by her as if she were invisible, not saying a word to her, not even glancing at her, just as Chu Yi had treated him before.

But the gentle and harmless Leng Shuangcheng was lying right in front of him, on the elegant and grand bed filled with his entire aura.

Leng Shuangcheng, dressed in a white collared blue shirt, her long hair flowing down her back, slept peacefully with a gentle, childlike face. Qiu Yeyijian gazed at her silently for a long time, enduring for a long time, but finally could not overcome his own heart and stretched out his long arms to hug her tightly.

"I can't bear to leave you, not even for a moment." Qiu Yeyijian lowered his lips slowly, facing that gentle profile. He lingered on her tightly closed eyes: "Your eyes reflect my image, but I can only see you in my eyes." These eyes left a deep impression on him, because those clear black and white pupils, when still, were like a cold pool of water, and when they flickered, they were like glittering cold stars.

Qiu Yeyijian held Leng Shuangcheng tightly around the waist, as if she were a rare treasure pressed against his chest. He lowered his pale, snow-white face and pressed it against her warm, calm face, gently swaying her, his gaze deep and lingering.

"Leng Shuangcheng, I've heard you're an unparalleled gambler, and you like to go all in for others. From today onwards, I've made a death wish: to completely possess you, I'm willing to take this gamble."

25. Brewing

“The mulberry tree grows tall and its leaves are lush and green. When I see the virtuous gentleman, his kind words are very touching.”

These large characters are inscribed on the snow-white Xuan paper with vigorous, flowing strokes, the brushwork bold and powerful, as if the writer harbored profound wisdom and unassuming magnanimity. The ink strokes reach the final stroke of the character "胶" (jiao), ending perfectly with a tight pause, revealing the writer's deep cultivation. This inscription truly embodies the ancient saying: "Observing one's calligraphy is like observing one's character."

Qiu Ye stood before the ancient desk, leaning on her sword. She looked up at Leng Shuangcheng, who was a few steps away, and said, "Come here."

Leng Shuangcheng carefully examined Qiu Yeyijian's face. A cloud of icy mist swirled in his pupils, concealing the fiery brilliance of the past. Yet, his eyes held a dewy brightness. As he quickly looked up, a drop of morning dew fell into the cold pool of an ancient well, rippling out unfathomable waves.

Leng Shuangcheng lowered her head, looking quite hesitant.

Every morning at dawn, Qiu Ye Yijian would coldly pass by her without summoning her to serve her. It was said that she went to the bamboo forest for morning practice, preparing for the duel in half a month. Qiu Ye Yijian was nowhere to be seen in the Ye residence, allowing her to wander freely. As she walked, the cautious Leng Shuangcheng noticed something amiss: everyone in the Ye residence treated her with great respect, and sometimes she could see servants whispering and smiling at her.

—For the past few days, Qiu Yeyijian had been extremely cold towards her, making her somewhat uneasy. Given Leng Shuangcheng's magnanimous and generous nature, the fact that he had repeatedly made things difficult for her young master, and witnessing his distressed and angry face, truly filled her with fear and self-reproach, leaving her with indescribable feelings.

Upon waking yesterday, she was terrified and tumbled off Qiu Yeyijian's bed. Meeting Qiu Yeyijian's unreadable gaze, she could only manage an embarrassed smile. Qiu Yeyijian stared at her for a long while before finally uttering, "I have no interest in a woman who's sound asleep."

Leng Shuangcheng looked up again and secretly glanced at Qiu Yeyi. Qiu Yeyi stood in the room with his hands behind his back, his white robes spotless and his demeanor as elegant as ever. His deep eyes were fixed on her face, revealing a hint of indifference. She slowly moved closer and stopped beside him.

Qiu Yeyi turned to look into her eyes: "Come stand over here." As he spoke, he slowly raised his left hand, revealing the area in front of his left rib.

Leng Shuangcheng's eyelids twitched, still hesitant. She only heard Qiu Yeyijian's cold urging: "Come over and sign your name!" She thought to herself, "How can I write if you don't come over?" but dared not utter a sound. Seeing Qiu Yeyijian's unwavering gaze, she sighed and resignedly walked over.

Leng Shuangcheng stood stiffly to the left of Qiu Yeyijian's chest, holding her breath and clutching her sleeve. Qiu Yeyijian was three inches taller than her, and as her stray black hair fell in front of his nose, she smiled smugly.

Leng Shuangcheng stared intently at the calligraphy scroll. The ink-splashed running script flowed like white clouds, rivaling the work of any master, and he was secretly astonished. Suddenly recalling the plaque in the Qingyi Camp, he immediately understood that the ancient characters "Dongge" were naturally from Qiu Ye Yijian's hand.

"Do you recognize the words on it?" Qiu Yeyi asked coldly, his left hand resting lightly on the edge of the table, subtly wrapping around her waist.

“Young master is joking again. Isn’t this a chapter from the Lesser Odes of the Book of Poetry?” Leng Shuangcheng replied, as if he didn’t want Leng Shuangcheng to look down on his father’s knowledge.

Qiu Ye, standing behind Leng Shuangcheng, smiled even more broadly, her voice still calm: "It seems you can read too. Could you explain the meaning of this sentence?"

Leng Shuangcheng's brows twitched almost imperceptibly. After thinking for a moment, she asked, "Young Master, what exactly do you want me to do?"

"This is the trick you taught me. You don't have to say it, but you must write it down." Sensing that the person in front of him was trying to break free, he steadied his left arm and firmly encircled her in front of him: "You must understand the principle of settling for second best better than I do, Leng Shuangcheng."