Hua Chongyang smiled, tilted his head back and drank the wine in his cup in one gulp, then lowered his head and refilled the cup:
"My mother passed away when I was six. Before she died, she told me to find my father and ask him one question. I was determined to see him so I could ask him that question. I spent a few years at Shaolin Temple and a few years on Wudang Mountain. When I was twelve, I ran away from Wudang Mountain and went to Lanying Palace all by myself."
She tilted her head back and drank another cup. Hua Chongyang squinted at Zu Xian, the firelight reflecting off her face and revealing the innocent smile that sparkled in her eyes.
"Your wine is really delicious, much better than the watered-down wine from Shaolin Temple and Wudang Mountain."
Zu Xian finally got up from the recliner, walked to the railing, and snatched her wine jug:
"You've had too much to drink."
Hua Chongyang's face was devoid of its usual composure; he tilted his head back, grinning foolishly, and tried to snatch the wine jug.
"I'm drunk? What a joke! You're the one who's drunk! I've been drinking since I was five, and apart from Uncle Fu, who can rival me!"
Zu Xian turned and placed the wine pot on the stone table, reaching out to stroke Hua Chongyang's hair. His hoarse voice suddenly softened:
"Yes, no one can compare to you."
"I'm not bragging." Hua Chongyang, holding an empty wine cup, stood up, leaning on the railing, and looked at Zu Xian. "Back then, I was young. Although I was heartbroken and didn't take him seriously, I still obediently listened to the old monk and returned to Hangzhou to follow Uncle Fu, wanting to live a peaceful life. But who would have thought I would harm Uncle Fu? If it weren't for saving me that night, with Uncle Fu's high martial arts skills, how could Aunt Fu have died and he himself had lost a hand?"
She turned around, her empty gaze sweeping over the stone table before she staggered forward, picked up the wine pot, refilled her cup, and drank it all in one gulp.
"From this day forward, none of my people... anyone who belongs to me will ever be bullied again!"
The alcohol blurred her vision, and she stumbled backward, falling onto the stone bench. Zu Xian, his right arm around her waist and his left hand removing the wine cup from hers, pulled her into his embrace, wrapped himself in a fox fur coat, and bent down to recline in the chair. The night was silent, the ice still frozen, a thin layer of snow on it, a desolate scene stretching as far as the eye could see. Only the man in the pavilion, pale-faced but with clear eyes, gazed down at the sleeping face in his arms. The firelight in the brazier dimmed, the moon high in the sky outside the pavilion, and a figure slowly approached, bowing respectfully.
"Young Master--"
Zu Xian raised his hand, signaling him to be quiet. He looked down at Hua Chongyang, who was still fast asleep. He raised his hand, his fingertips lingering on her eyebrows, eyes, and cheeks, his voice slightly hoarse:
"Anping, she's still as stupid as ever."
"yes."
"Tell me, did I ruin her life?"
Anping paused, then lowered his head:
"Anping doesn't think that far ahead. As long as everything goes according to the young master's wishes, everything is fine."
"...Yes," Zu Xian said softly, picking Hua Chongyang up in his arms and slowly standing up. "As long as I'm satisfied, I don't care if she hates me to the core."
The crescent moon hung on the treetops, and the vast night reflected on the ground with a cold, hard luster.
In the spacious courtyard, an exquisitely decorated corridor hung under the eaves, its lamps casting a warm, dim glow that contrasted with the candlelight filtering through the windowpanes in the distance. Hua Chongyang opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the three or five candles burning quietly on the table, and the flickering candlelight shadows on the windowpanes. Two or three braziers burned beneath the wooden couch, making the room warm and cozy; on the couch lay a tangled mess of fox fur bedding, half of which covered her.
When she opened her eyes, she thought she was dreaming.
Looking up slightly, Hua Chongyang saw Zu Xian leaning against the corner of the wooden couch, one hand supporting his forehead and his elbow resting on his knee. Startled, Hua Chongyang tried to lift herself up, but her left arm was numb and powerless. She raised her right arm to rub her shoulder, but froze the moment she touched it.
What she touched... wasn't a pillow, was it?
She tilted her head back sharply, her eyes meeting a pair of dark eyes. Zu Xian smiled, gently stroking her temple with his fingers, and asked in a hoarse voice:
"woke up?"
Hua Chongyang was taken aback at first, then suddenly sat up and turned around.
...She was indeed resting her head on Zu Xian's lap.
The charcoal in the brazier had burned down to just glowing embers and a faint flame. Hua Chongyang paused for a moment, then, having figured out what had happened the previous night, she caught the whiff of alcohol rising and falling with the flames. She touched her flushed face and the disheveled hair hanging over her arms and chest, unsure how to begin. Just then, Zu Xian, who had been leaning against the corner of the wooden couch, straightened up and smiled at her.
"There's tea on the table, I'll ask Anping to go get some—"
Before he could finish speaking, he groaned and slumped back onto the wooden couch, his hand on his right knee, his brow furrowed. Hua Chongyang crawled forward from the couch on his knees:
"What's wrong? What happened to your leg? Is it injured or—"
Her waist-length hair cascaded down her body. Zu Xian relaxed his brow, raised his hand to gather the hair that fell across her forehead, and spoke in a low, gentle voice:
"My legs are just numb."
The grey sleeve of his robe brushed against Hua Chongyang's nose, then draped down Zu Xian's arm along with the long sleeve of his snow-white undergarment, revealing a section of his fair arm. Hua Chongyang's eyes met Zu Xian's wrist, which was badly slashed by a knife, and his gaze froze again. Zu Xian didn't speak, silently pulling down his sleeve with his right hand to cover his wrist, and slowly moved off the wooden bed.
"I'll ask Anping to pour some hot tea."
Hua Chongyang suddenly raised his hand and grabbed his sleeve:
"Need not."
Zu Xian sat on the couch and looked back at the sleeve that she had been tugging at. Hua Chongyang had already rolled over and gotten up from the couch, smiling as she bent down to put on her shoes.
"Young Master Zu, your Anping is probably already asleep. If you wake him, he might poison your water, and you'll be finished. Where's the hot water? I'll go find it."
"It's been almost two hours; it's probably cold by now."
"Then just heat it up again." Hua Chongyang shuffled around the room in his shoes, picked up a kettle from the table, and said, "Use this to boil water."
A brazier was placed over the fire pit, embers were added, and a kettle was placed on top. Hua Chongyang turned around and saw Zu Xian sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a robe, coughing again. He casually pulled a fox fur quilt over him and wrapped it around him.
"If it weren't for Anping, you would probably have starved to death long ago."
Zu Xian remained silent, only smiling as he picked up a snow-white silk handkerchief from the table beside him. He grasped Hua Chongyang's right hand, held it in his palm, and bent down to wipe away the black charcoal dust clinging to it. After wiping, he tossed the handkerchief aside, but didn't let go of her hand. Their hands were clasped together, and Hua Chongyang realized that Zu Xian's hands were larger than hers, with long, slender fingers, but they were cold and lifeless, as if they had just been exposed to a cold wind, their color as pale and bloodless as his face. A fox fur coat was draped diagonally over his shoulders, making Zu Xian's broad shoulders appear even more slender. His long, dark hair, tinged with blue, cascaded down his chest, highlighting his pale face and thin, pointed chin, which, combined with his deep, bright eyes, made him appear incredibly pitiful. Hua Chongyang held his hand in hers for a long time, finally unable to resist the urge, and awkwardly grasped his fingers, muttering softly:
"...Aren't men's hands usually warm? Why are your hands so cold?"
Zu Xian didn't move, but looked up and stared into her eyes, asking earnestly in a hoarse voice:
"Have you touched another man's hand?"
"……"
Seeing that Hua Chongyang was staring at him without speaking, Zu Xian loosened his grip on the fox fur quilt and walked up to her, repeating in a hoarse voice, relentlessly:
"Hua Chongyang, how many men's hands have you touched?"
The tall and slender Zu Xian stood straight, appearing to be more than half a head taller than Hua Chongyang; it was rare for anyone to make Hua Chongyang look up, so after gazing at Zu Xian for a moment, she felt somewhat uncomfortable, so she glared at him, withdrew her hand, and lazily turned away.
"I've touched so many, and every single one of their hands is warmer than yours. Why don't you go touch them one by one and see if that's true?"
Even with her back to Zu Xian, Hua Chongyang could still feel his eyes fixed on her. The fire crackled in the brazier, and standing before it, she could still hear the steady thumping of her heart in her left chest. Even more inexplicably, the image of Ye Qinghua, lively and energetic, suddenly flashed into her mind, and she sharply poked Ye Qinghua's forehead with her finger, letting out a piercing curse:
"Hua Chongyang, you spineless coward! Haven't you ever seen a man before?! One day you'll get your comeuppance and be struck dead by lightning, you spineless coward who doesn't even dare to speak your mind!"
Ye Qinghua's curses echoed in her mind, but simultaneously, a pair of icy hands calmly and steadily encircled her slender waist. A cool sensation touched her back, and she jerked her head back, her face meeting Zu Xian's unfathomable eyes fixed on her. His lips brushed against her neck, his voice deep, slow, and hoarse, just loud enough to be heard clearly:
"From now on, you can only touch mine."
The arms around her waist tightened, and as Hua Chongyang turned her head, she felt Zu Xian bury his face in her hair, his broad shoulders enveloping her. His cool breath brushed against her neck and shoulders, creating a warm sensation. She struggled symbolically for a moment, then gave up, gently pressing her hand against the arms around her waist. In her mind, she mentally slapped the shouting and cursing Ye Qinghua to death, muttering a single sentence:
"I drank too much, I drank too much tonight..."
Zu Xian chuckled softly, his face buried in her long, flowing hair. Hua Chongyang's face flushed all the way to her ears. She pulled her hands away from Zu Xian's arm and squatted down in front of the brazier.
"...The water's boiled. Would you like water or tea?"
"Tea, I don't like plain water." Zu Xian took a step closer, bent down, and brushed aside the hair that fell from her shoulder. "Don't burn your hair."
"Let it burn, what's the big deal? I even shaved my head when I was a kid." Hua Chongyang lazily moved the teapot away, then suddenly glanced up at him, "...Oh, right."
"how?"
"You, you..." She looked up at Zu Xian, her tone hesitant, "Anping said that your association with Lanying Palace was due to unavoidable difficulties—"
Zu Xian's expression suddenly froze.
21. Sobering up
Hua Chongyang stood up and placed the teapot on the table. Her hands, burning hot from the brazier, grasped Zu Xian's, squeezing tightly before releasing, and she stepped forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Zu Xian had broad shoulders, wore a blue silk robe, and his jet-black hair cascaded over his snow-white silk undergarment, making him appear exceptionally handsome. Only when her arms encircled him did Hua Chongyang notice his slender waist. She sighed softly, withdrew one hand, and tilted her head back, pressing her long, thin thumb against the corner of his eye.
"Her waist is so thin it's heartbreaking."
Zu Xian burst into laughter upon hearing this, and reached out to touch Hua Chongyang's hair:
Do you know the phrase "Shen Lang's waist is so thin"?
"...What kind of slim waist?"
Zu Xian smiled faintly and spoke slowly:
"The book says that there was once a handsome man named Shen Yue, who was very good-looking and dressed like an immortal; however, he became thin and frail because of someone, so people called him 'Slender Shen Lang'."
"Ethereal as a fairy?" Hua Chongyang suddenly remembered that Ye Qinghua always called Rong Chenfei her "fairy brother," so she let go of his hand, smiled, picked up the tea, and sat down on the couch. "I don't know any handsome man named Shen Yue, I only know a 'fairy brother' who loves to wear white clothes."
Zu Xian raised an eyebrow, walked to Hua Chongyang's side, and slowly ran his fingers through her hair, asking softly:
"The 'fairy brother' you're talking about... is it Rong Chenfei?"
"Yes, him—" Hua Chongyang was about to speak excitedly when he suddenly came to his senses, looked up, and glared at Zu Xian, "...How did you know I was talking about him?"
"Fairy brother, fairy brother," she had only mentioned to Ye Qinghua that when she first saw Rong Chenfei in his white robes, she thought he looked like a fairy. But how could Zu Xian know that?
Zu Xian sat down on the wooden couch, poured himself a bowl of tea, slowly skimmed the foam off the surface with the lid, took a sip, and then, staring at the teacup, said:
"That's not hard to guess. Among the martial arts world, the only one you know who likes to wear white and is even remotely acquainted with is Rong Chenfei."
"Everyone says that Senior Brother Rong is handsome, and there's no one in the martial arts world better than him. Countless women in the martial arts world want to marry him." As he spoke, Hua Chongyang recalled what Ye Qinghua had said that day, that Rong Chenfei would definitely marry Ji Feixiang. "It's a pity that he's handsome, but not kind-hearted."
Such a good person, yet she insisted on marrying Ji Feixiang, whom she disliked.
As she spoke, Hua Chongyang shook her head. Zu Xian, holding his teacup, glanced at her, then slowly took a sip of tea before lowering his eyes and asking:
"You also think Rong Chenfei is good-looking?"
"The Rong family was wiped out this time, leaving only him. His parents and family died so suddenly; he probably can't handle it." Recalling the haggard look he'd seen Rong Chenfei at Lake Moon Manor that day, Hua Chongyang sighed heavily. "It's better for me to be like him; my family is always scattered, I'm more used to it."
A moment of silence.
"The dead cannot be brought back to life; the dead are dead for good. As for the rest," Zu Xian began, pouring himself another cup of tea, his expression indifferent, "if they are not strong enough, they can only grieve and submit to being slaughtered."
"To be at the mercy of others?" Hua Chongyang shook his head. "I'm afraid Senior Brother Rong isn't that kind of person."
You can tell just by looking at his eyes. Although Rong Chenfei looks gentle and always has a smile on his lips, that smile doesn't always reach his eyes. The kind of look that seems to remember everything clearly is definitely not something a person who can "adapt" would have.
"Who he is is unimportant." Zu Xian took a sip of tea, put down his teacup, fastened his robe, and stood up. He said indifferently, "What matters is whether he's strong enough. In the martial world, strength is everything; the victor is king, the loser is villain. Only the winner has the right to speak."
Hua Chongyang raised an eyebrow after hearing this and looked up at Zu Xian.
It was nearly dawn, and while the night outside was still dark, the room was brightly lit by candlelight, with the fire in the brazier flickering faintly. Zu Xian must have been up all night, for he looked slightly tired, but his blue silk robe flowed gracefully with each step, revealing his broad shoulders, slender waist, and tall, elegant figure. Beggar Chongyang couldn't help but recall the phrase "Shen Lang's waist is slender."
Such a frail body, such an indifferent demeanor… Hua Chongyang murmured almost without thinking:
"...How much have you suffered?"
Zu Xian seemed not to hear, and continued walking to the table in the middle of the room. He opened a drawer, rummaged inside for a while, picked up a ribbon, and turned to smile at Hua Chongyang:
"This one suits you."