His voice was a little hoarse as he said in a deep voice, "Yes, Father wrote last month. There's something on my mind that I haven't been able to resolve, so I've been putting it off."
I stared at him, stunned. The sunlight was perfect, a blinding white blur before my eyes. Suddenly, I felt a stinging sensation in my eyes, a surge of moisture welling up. I quickly shielded my eyes with my hand.
"The sun is so bright."
He lowered his eyes, rubbed his temples with his fingers, and said softly, "Yes, the sunlight is too bright."
My throat was sore and choked, and it took all my strength to squeeze out four words: "Take care, brother." Then I turned and left. Luckily, if I had turned around any later, he would have seen my tears.
I went back to my room, closed the door, and sat there blankly, with the box he had brought me beside me.
I gently opened it, and on the red velvet cloth lay a dagger.
A thought struck me: how come this dagger is exactly the same as mine?
I picked it up and gently pulled it open. Sure enough, it was exactly the same. The only difference was that there was a small character engraved on the dagger: "思" (si, meaning "think").
There was a place in my heart that started beating strangely, faster and faster, so fast that I could hardly breathe.
I flung open the door and ran out.
Is it true? Tears streamed down my face, and I could barely see the road. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst out of my chest.
I ran to the front yard, and his door was open. I rushed in, only to find the room clean and tidy, as if no one lived there anymore. There were still inkstones and paper quietly being prepared, and the azaleas were still in full bloom.
I rushed to the next room.
My neighbor, Senior Brother Yang, looked at me with surprise: "Xiao Mo, what's wrong?"
I wiped away my tears and asked urgently, "Senior Brother Yang, where is Yunzhou?"
"He just left."
I turned around and ran towards the mountain gate.
Why not have wings? Why not have a clever mind? Why not have the courage to bear a thousand burdens? Why is the road so long?
The spacious mountain gate was wide open. In the distance, I saw a white figure on the mountain path, with a black horse galloping along the path towards the official road below.
The distant mountains are verdant, the sky is high and vast, and that white figure seems to be a wild goose spreading its wings and flying away. The blue sky is vast, the rivers and lakes are boundless, and after many years, where can we find him?
Tears streamed down my face like rain; I wiped them away again and again, but I could never see him again. Will I ever have the chance to ask him that question again in this lifetime?
I clutched the dagger he gave me on my birthday tightly in my hand, with a small character "相" (Xiang) on it. I always thought it was a character from the name of the master swordsmith Mingxiang. I didn't know that these daggers were actually a pair, named "相思" (Xiangsi, meaning mutual longing).
The mountain wind was fierce, its roar like the faint sound of waves whispering in my ears. My heart was in turmoil, like a raging torrent crashing against the shore, churning up a thousand piles of snow, leaving only regret and sorrow before a thousand sails. (89 Literature Network)
In the past fifteen years, I have never experienced such turbulent waves and unexpected turns, leaving me in such deep pain and helpless.
I don't know how long I stood in front of the mountain gate. The strong wind blew through my clothes, and as dusk fell, I couldn't see the mountain path anymore. Only then did I find my master, feeling utterly lost.
"Xiao Mo, what's wrong?"
"Master, where did Yunzhou go?"
The master was taken aback: "What's wrong?"
I held back my tears for a while, but they finally streamed down my face.
"Master, where did he go? Tell me."
"He only said that he had urgent business to attend to and had to leave, without saying where he was going."
Is he going back to Fujian? Will he come back?
"He probably won't come back. He's already twenty, it's time for him to come out of seclusion and do great things. His father has high hopes for him, how could he let him remain confined to the Xiaoyao Sect forever?"
My last glimmer of hope has been extinguished. If he had known where he had gone, I would have risked everything to find him, but he has so resolutely gone this far, without even leaving a trace of where he has gone. He has always been proud and aloof; what kind of pain and despair must he have felt to make such a resolute decision?
I returned to my room in a daze, and suddenly fell ill in the middle of the night with a high fever.
Xiao Hebao kept nagging in my ear: "Miss, your illness is really inexplicable. Did you get frightened today when you heard that the young master was going to go in and soak in the hot spring with you?"
I coughed and clutched my chest, unable to tell if the pain was from the coughing or something else. I just felt a stinging, aching sensation in my eyes, as if countless tiny needles were pricking them.
The little purse exclaimed, "Miss, you're really very sick! You're coughing so hard your eyes are watering."
I quickly wiped away my tears and coughed a few times.
The little purse hurriedly handed me a handkerchief, which I covered my face with, not daring to take it off. The handkerchief had absorbed water and was damp, sticking to my face like a butterfly with wet wings, unable to fly far away.
No one understands my pain, and I can't confide in anyone. Tears stream down my face like water from a burst dam, and my heart is never at rest. Scenes and fragments that were once vague and indistinct are now vividly and intensely presented. Those things, like flowers in the mist and the moon in the water, are clear and bright, making me sad.
That night, I stood before him, the faint scent of strong liquor still lingering in the air. I said to him, "Brother, don't take it seriously. I was just saying it casually. Just think of it as me being silly."
His face was cold and he grabbed my wrist. Only today did I understand why he was angry and why he was so harsh on me.
I gave Jiang Chen a golden lock, which everyone said was a token of love. I gave Jiang Chen tears of longing, but what I gave him was what Wang Lun gave to Li Bai, and everyone knows that poem was about friendship.
I met him on the small bridge, and he came under the moonlight, only to attend a matchmaking event that I had personally arranged for him. Disheartened, he asked me a question and then left dejectedly.
Jiang Chen emerged from my room early in the morning, disheveled, as witnessed by everyone. My master personally arranged the marriage for me, and he also heard it firsthand.
Every single thing seemed to be telling him that I didn't like him, that I liked Jiang Chen. Only I knew who I truly loved, but it was too late.
But even if I'm clueless and slow-witted, why didn't he, a man of exceptional intelligence, come and ask me directly? How could I accept such a missed opportunity?
My handkerchief was soaked through, but my tears kept flowing. Afraid that Xiao Hebao would see, I turned over and lay down, facing the wall, silently shedding my tears.