"You're drunk. Get up and have some hot tea to sober up."
Hua Chongyang finally opened his eyes and slowly sat up, but the effects of the alcohol were still obvious; his eyes and brows were still flushed with intoxication. His gaze drifted softly towards Lan Wuxie before suddenly straightening, and he chuckled abruptly:
"Your face—why does it look so—familiar?"
She stared at Lan Wuxie for a long time, then reached out to touch his face, but Lan Wuxie stopped her wrist halfway through:
"Sweetie, have some hot tea first."
Hua Chongyang rolled his eyes and glared at him, laughing:
"Ah—I remember now, your face—how come it looks so much like Lan Wuxie?"
"Chongyang, you're drunk--"
Before he could finish speaking, Hua Chongyang suddenly stood up and shoved the teacup out of his hand:
"...What tea! What about the wine? I haven't finished my wine yet—where's the blue and white porcelain? Blue and white porcelain! Blue and white porcelain!"
The teacup crashed to the ground and shattered, spilling tea everywhere. The sound of the crash made the people in the corner tremble. Hua Chongyang staggered a few steps. Lan Wuxie was startled at first, but then she stood up and reached out to help her.
But Hua Chongyang stood up, his hazy eyes scanning the room before his gaze fell directly on the wine pot on Situ Qingliu's table next door. He chuckled and took a step over, then reached out and put his hand on Situ Qingliu's shoulder:
"Qinghua, let's drink!"
Lan Wuxie, who was standing behind her, immediately changed his expression.
Situ Qingliu ignored her, sat upright in his chair, reached out to support Hua Chongyang's arm and helped her sit down carefully. He poured her a cup of wine and gently placed it in front of her on the table, his voice gentle:
"You can drink it. But this is the last glass."
Hua Chongyang raised his hand, tilted his head back, and drank the wine in one gulp. He then put down the cup and stared straight at him.
"What?"
Situ Qingliu smiled gently, his eyes curving like crescent moons:
"Because I'm out of money. I only have enough silver on me for this one cup of wine. But—"
"...But what?"
Situ Qingliu put down the wine pot, looked at Hua Chongyang, and smiled like a kind and benevolent strange uncle:
"I still have a lot of wine at home. For the Double Ninth Festival, I'd like to invite you home for a drink. What do you say?"
"So... do you accept money or not?"
"No money required, you can drink it for free."
At this point, Hua Chongyang was completely tricked. He grinned foolishly, slammed his hand on the table, and pulled Situ Qingliu to his feet.
"Okay! It's a deal!"
Lan Wuxie stood behind her, his face so cold it was almost frosty. When Hua Chongyang approached, he grabbed her wrist, lowered his eyes, and spoke in a gentle, low voice:
"...Chongyang, you've had too much to drink."
Hua Chongyang frowned and struggled a little, then struggled again. Lan Wuxie did not let go, holding her wrist and raising his hand to smooth the messy hair by her ear.
"Smack!"
Hua Chongyang raised his left hand and slapped Lan Wuxie across the face. Then came a loud crash. The waiter, who had just entered the room carrying side dishes, witnessed this scene and was so startled that his hand trembled, and the plates and dishes fell to the ground.
The slap was hard enough that Lan Wuxie's face was turned to one side, and five bright red finger marks quickly swelled up on his snow-white right cheek. He stood there motionless for a long time.
Hua Chongyang suddenly stood up straight, looked at him, and his hazy eyes turned cold:
"You can't blame anyone else for getting beaten up. It's your bad luck that you look like Lan Wuxie. Just thinking about him makes me want to punch someone."
She walked past Lan Wuxie and strode out.
Ye Qinghua sneered, then stood up and followed. As they reached the door, they heard Lan Wuxie, who remained motionless, speak softly:
"Chongyang, it's all my fault—please come back with me, okay? After we get back, I—"
The words were left unsaid, their echoes lingering long afterward.
However, Hua Chongyang had already thrown down the curtain and gone out.
Only Lan Wuxie remained standing quietly by the table, and Lan Cao stood at the door. At this moment, she cautiously called out:
"...Sect Master."
Lan Wuxie didn't answer. After a long while, he leaned over, clutched his chest, coughed a few times, and then slowly chuckled.
42. Green leaves...
As soon as they left the tavern, Hua Chongyang walked briskly ahead, so fast that Ye Qinghua could barely keep up. The street was already sparsely populated, and seeing her elegant clothes and hurried pace, people were curious and made way for her. However, after following her for about half a block, Ye Qinghua stopped, looked around, stamped her foot, caught up with her, and grabbed her arm:
"You've gone the wrong way, Hua Chongyang! You should go that way!"
Hua Chongyang paused, but didn't turn around. He stood there blankly for a moment, then grinned and said:
"Oh dear, I'm so drunk and confused... We should be heading north, right? Qinghua, is this north or south?"
"...It's the East."
"Ah...is that so? Then we should--"
"Forget it." Ye Qinghua sighed helplessly, reaching out to take her hand. "Even if I asked you to roll the dice now, I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to tell the difference. If you're wrong, you're wrong. At worst, we'll just go around the east side of the city and go back to the brothel. If we turn back, we might just run into—that person again."
Having seen through the scars in Hua Chongyang's heart, she dared not even mention Lan Wuxie's name again, and dragged Hua Chongyang all the way back to the brothel.
In broad daylight, the brothel's doors were tightly shut, with only two strings of four pairs of large red lanterns with gilded characters swaying gently in the breeze. Ye Qinghua dragged Hua Chongyang forward, kicked open the door, and rushed inside:
"Someone come here! Get me a bowl of hangover soup!"
Her fiery shouting stopped halfway through. She immediately lowered her voice when she saw Situ Qingliu in the hall, only to see him nonchalantly rise and greet her:
"Master Ye. Miss Chongyang, she—"
He paused, then looked at Hua Chongyang, who was following behind Ye Qinghua and seemed slightly dazed.
Ye Qinghua glanced back at Hua Chongyang, a helpless smile playing on her lips:
"He won't die. He's probably still a bit tipsy; there were two big jars of wine in there."
Situ Qingliu looked at Hua Chongyang again, stepped forward, and tentatively probed in a soft voice:
"Miss Chongyang?"
Hua Chongyang paused only briefly, then, without even looking up, pressed his hand to his forehead, grinned bitterly, and turned to head upstairs.
"Oh, Your Highness, excuse me—I'm feeling really dizzy, I'll go upstairs first—to get some rest."
As she spoke the last few words, her voice changed completely, and her raised hand and lowered face could not hide her already red eyes.
Situ Qingliu just looked at her silently.
Just then, Ye Laoqi came over from behind with a bowl of hangover soup. He was about to rush over to Hua Chongyang when Ye Qinghua caught up with him and grabbed his arm.
"No."
"She reeks of alcohol, how much did she drink? Why didn't you stop her?"
"Persuade her? How can you persuade her? Persuade her not to cry, not to feel bad, that she was just deceived by a man?" Ye Qinghua shook her head and sneered, "If persuasion could solve this kind of thing, there wouldn't be so many people jumping into the lake to commit suicide at the West Lake Bridge."
"What should we do then?"
Ye Qinghua glanced at Ye Laoqi, then sideways at Situ Qingliu standing to the side:
"We can only wait. Judging from her condition, it seems she and Lan Wuxie have truly severed all ties. We'll just have to wait and see how many days pass before she can let go."
Ye Laoqi frowned and covered his nose as he watched Hua Chongyang stagger up the stairs:
"If I don't drink some soup, I don't know how uncomfortable I'll feel tonight."
"The physical discomfort is better than the emotional distress." Ye Qinghua sighed deeply, clutching her handkerchief and gazing up at the sky. "Never mind, let her be. Whether she drinks the soup or not, she won't be able to sleep tonight. Oh, by the way, Your Highness—"
She turned to Situ Qingliu standing behind her, and raised an eyebrow with a smile:
"Why don't you go back first? Otherwise, we'll be serving our guests soon."
Situ Qingliu turned around and gestured to Pinlan. Seeing Pinlan take out a silver note, he smiled and looked at Ye Qinghua:
"Such a beautiful night, Master Ye, I am willing to pay the price to disturb you for one night in this brothel."
Hua Chongyang had only been inside the house for a quarter of an hour.
Dusk was just beginning to fall.
The evening clouds stretched across the western sky, the setting sun shimmering like gold; outside the window, a few scattered lights had already been lit on the long street, their presence unusually desolate amidst the bustling noise of people coming and going. The corridor remained unlit, shrouded in darkness. At the doorway, Ye Qinghua stealthily tiptoed, carefully pressing her ear close to the windowpane, then bent down and licked a hole in the paper windowpane with her tongue.
The room was also dimly lit. In the dim light, Hua Chongyang leaned against the wooden couch under the window. Her red dress was illuminated by the afterglow and looked as bright as fire. However, she stared blankly at the colorful sky outside the window.
Ye Qinghua pursed her lips, straightened her back, and gently knocked on the door.
The knocking interrupted Hua Chongyang's dazed state inside the room, but she remained silent, listlessly turning over and lying down, pretending to be asleep. Ye Qinghua gently pushed the door open and entered. Seeing that she was pretending to be asleep, she didn't expose her. She went to the bed, took a blanket, walked to the window, and gently covered Hua Chongyang with it. Seeing that Hua Chongyang was lying motionless, she couldn't help but sit on the edge of the bed and reach out to tidy up Hua Chongyang's messy long hair that almost covered her face.
When her hand accidentally touched Hua Chongyang's face, she found it wet with hot tears.
Ye Qinghua's fingers stiffened, then she slowly withdrew them, letting out a long sigh:
"Double Ninth Festival."
Hua Chongyang remained motionless.
"At that time, I heard that he was in trouble, so without thinking twice, I abandoned everything to go find him, hoping to help him in any way I could. But when I found him, I discovered that he had already defeated his rivals and risen to a high position. The people around him told me that he approached me and made me fall in love with him, but only for a secret manual. I was heartbroken at the time—alas, much more pathetic than you, I almost went back to Hangzhou and jumped into West Lake."
Ye Qinghua spoke slowly, her tone surprisingly calm and gentle.
"But before I could even finish grieving—damn it, it's like when it rains, it pours. His rivals weren't all dead. Knowing I came to him, they thought he took me seriously, so they kidnapped me, poisoned me, and used me to blackmail him—but what happened? The man didn't care at all. In front of me, he told his rivals that my life or death was none of his business, and watched helplessly as I was pushed off a cliff. In the end, although I miraculously survived—because of the poison, my appearance was almost completely ruined."
Hua Chongyang leaned against her body, trembling slightly.
Ye Qinghua supported her shoulder, touched her own face with her other hand, and slowly smiled:
"I've never told you this before, have I? My face looks good now, but half of the skin on it isn't mine; it belongs to someone else. Do you think I almost risked my life to make a name for myself in this world? It wasn't because I was strong-willed—after learning the truth, I stopped caring. I took the lead simply because I realized one thing: the most terrifying thing in this world isn't being deceived, but being deceived, played, and bullied without any ability to fight back. That feeling, that humiliation, is worse than death, a thousand times more painful than being deceived and played."
As she spoke, Ye Qinghua turned around and stared intently at Hua Chongyang's face, which was hidden in the shadows:
"Right now, you've severed ties with Lan Wuxie, offended Bo Jiang, and have a group of people eyeing you covetously, wanting to seize the Biluo Heart Sutra—you're in the eye of the storm. It's not that I don't want to continue helping you, but—Chongyang, my abilities are ultimately limited. You should understand that there's plenty of time to grieve after you're heartbroken; once things settle down, you can grieve for ten or eight years if you want. What's important is that you first learn to survive and establish yourself in this martial world."
43. Situ Qingliu...
As night deepened, the lights of thousands of homes outside the window became increasingly clear in the dim light.
Ye Qinghua had already left; the door was tightly closed. Hua Chongyang sat up from the couch again, stood there for a long time, raised his left hand, and remembered the slap he had given Lan Wuxie in the tavern that afternoon.