Situ Qingliu, dressed in a white robe and a royal blue cloak, walked into the hall with a slight smile, stood behind Hua Chongyang, and repeated what he had just said:
"Miss Chongyang stayed with me all night. Surely you all can believe me? She is innocent."
"A man and a woman alone together, Your Highness should consider your reputation," Yue Feilong persisted, pressing, "Did Your Highness really stay with Hua Chongyang until the wee hours last night? What was the reason?"
Situ Qingliu smiled without changing his expression, his tone calm and unquestionable:
"yes."
Leaving Lake Moon Villa, Hua Chongyang was still in a daze. Passing West Lake and approaching the Broken Bridge, her steps were slow and almost numb. After a long silence, her mind gradually cleared. She stopped, looked back at Situ Qingliu and Pinlan who had been following behind her, and grinned.
"Your Highness, thank you very much for today."
"Miss Chongyang," Situ Qingliu took a step closer, his expression concerned, "Are you alright?"
"It's nothing," Hua Chongyang forced a smile. "It was just a small suspicion. I'm just grateful to the young master for clearing my name."
Situ Qingliu stood with his hands behind his back, remained silent for a while, and then suddenly asked:
"Have you suffered a lot of injustices since you were a child?"
"Feeling wronged? What a joke." Hua Chongyang shook his head with a smile. "With my martial arts skills, who would dare to wrong me? But because of my parents—you should have heard of them—one betrayed their sect and eloped with a man, and the other joined Lan Ying Palace and became a notorious demon. And they both died young—"
Let's stop here.
She suddenly felt that her words were incoherent and she didn't know how to continue.
If a person who has endured more than ten years of hardship couldn't bear the slightest grievance, she would have hanged herself countless times by now.
The afternoon sun was too bright, and Hua Chongyang, who had always appeared calm and sharp, suddenly felt a little annoyed. So he turned around, walked to the stone platform under the Broken Bridge, lifted his clothes, squatted down on one leg, picked up a pebble from the ground, and threw it into the lake.
A thin layer of pebbles glided across the lake's surface, creating gentle ripples. The familiar scene suddenly reminded her of over ten years ago, when she was just over ten years old. Full of longing, she secretly slipped away from Wudang Mountain, searching alone for Lanying Palace. At the foot of that rugged and secluded Binglan Mountain, on a quiet winter afternoon by a lake, she and a boy she had met by chance were skipping stones on the water. She happily told the boy, "When I see my father, I won't have to run around anymore. My mother says my father will love me."
Now, ten years have passed, and she is still wandering around, running in this world. But her heart is no longer like it was back then, and she no longer has anyone to rely on. As Ye Qinghua once said, "When you live in this world, you can't rely on anyone but yourself."
Hua Chongyang sighed again, his gaze shifting from the broken bridge beside him to the distant lake, and he murmured softly:
"The Broken Bridge is famous throughout the world. In the play, Xu Xian and Bai Suzhen's love story was so heartbreaking, but who the hell thought about how unlucky their son was? A freak born from a snake and a human, he deserves to be laughed at and bullied for the rest of his life?"
Meanwhile, Situ Qingliu, whom she had completely ignored, stood at a distance, quietly watching the slender, boyish figure squatting by the lake.
11. Anping
That evening, Hua Chongyang made another trip to Banlianzui.
Banlianzui never opened its door during the day, and only opened it after midnight. Having figured this out, Hua Chongyang went straight to Banlianzui around midnight.
Sure enough, there was a curtain hanging at the entrance.
She turned and sat down at the wonton stall next door, ordering a bowl of wontons. Just as she picked up her spoon, a group of teenagers of all ages swarmed around her, each calling out "Chongyang" affectionately before sitting down beside her. They were all familiar faces, a mix of street thugs and alleyway ruffians. Hua Chongyang emptied her purse and ordered another seventy or eighty thousand wontons. The group of teenagers then began chatting animatedly about the martial arts tournament and the massacre at Lake Moon Manor.
What moved Hua Chongyang was that, among the dozen or so people, all of whom were usually outspoken hooligans, not a single one mentioned her background. Only the youngest and most straightforward Ah San, after slurping down a few bites of wontons, mumbled a question while still chewing:
"By the way, Chongyang! I've been hearing a lot of people talking about your dad lately! What's going on with your dad—"
With a "bang," before he could even finish speaking, Wu Liu'er, who was closest to Chongyang, slapped him on the back of the head:
"You idiot! What nonsense are you asking!"
Hua Chongyang's fingers, which were holding the spoon, paused.
The straightforward Indian man slammed down his wonton bowl and, craning his neck, started arguing with Wu Liu'er:
"I only ask if you're a brother! I don't care if Chongyang doesn't know! Last time that brat from Seven Alley asked me the same question, I beat him so badly I knocked out one of his teeth! That bastard! What business is it of his who Chongyang's father is!"
Wu Liu'er slapped him again, laughing as she retorted, "Then why are you asking? What business is it of yours who Chongyang's father is?"
"Aren't we brothers? -- Uh, Chongyang is a girl now -- it doesn't matter!" Ah San scratched his forehead, looked at Hua Chongyang, and suddenly smiled. "I just wanted to ask around, so that things will be better in the future --"
"What's so good about it?" Wu Liu'er pressed.
Suddenly, a shout came from the side, ripping off the Indian guy:
"Chongyang Festival, Chongyang Festival! I know why he asked. Ah San said he'll come to your house to propose marriage when he turns twenty!"
The group of people burst into laughter, leaving only this lively scene on the quiet streets of Anyang.
Hua Chongyang patted Ah San and took a sip of wonton soup, smiling as he looked up at the half-closed doorway.
If Zu Xian were inside, could he hear their laughter and commotion? Without grudges, hatred, sorrow, or worry, all that exists here are slackers who drift through life and simple-minded hooligans content with a bowl of wontons. It's far removed from the cutthroat world of murder and trampling...
Hua Chongyang sent the children home one by one. It was well past midnight when Hua Chongyang saw the bamboo curtain hanging at the entrance of Banlianzui across the street being slowly rolled up.
A light gray figure half-rolled up the curtain at the door, then turned and disappeared behind it.
He just doesn't look like Zu Xian.
Hua Chongyang tossed down a few copper coins, bid farewell to the wonton stall owner, and quickly walked out of Banlianxing, crossed the street, and entered Banlianzui through the half-rolled bamboo curtain.
The tavern remained empty. Her gaze shifted, and she spotted a figure in grey in a corner. She paused, her left hand instinctively reaching for the soft sword at her waist, but the grey-clad figure suddenly stood up:
"Miss Chongyang? I mean no harm, I just want to say a few words."
Hua Chongyang placed his hand on the hilt of his soft sword and raised an eyebrow slightly:
Do you know me?
He paused, then lowered his voice:
"My name is Anping. The person who accidentally injured the young lady last night is none other than myself, the one who serves my master."
Master? He was Zu Xian's attendant?
Hua Chongyang squinted, using the dim light from the doorway to scrutinize the man in gray. He was of medium build, dressed in a gray cloth shirt, his face slightly lowered, making it impossible to discern his features or age. He was just an ordinary-looking man, and his voice, in particular, was mild and gentle, without a trace of hostility.
Hua Chongyang instinctively felt that this was not a江湖人 (jianghu person, someone from the martial arts world). She couldn't help but lower her guard and release her left hand:
"Anping? Nice to meet you. May I ask what I can do for you?"
"Of course I wouldn't presume to offer advice." Anping's voice was slightly low and hoarse, excessively gentle and respectful. "Last night, Miss was injured by a poisoned needle, and I only wish to apologize on behalf of my master. However, my master already cured Miss of the poison last night."
"It's indeed solved," Hua Chongyang nodded, took a step forward, hesitated for a moment, but couldn't help speaking, "Anping, your master—"
She stopped talking.
"Please feel free to ask me anything, young lady."
"Isn't your master relying on Lan Ying Palace?"
The figure in the corner remained silent for a moment before slowly speaking with a smile:
"Young lady, you are truly intelligent. Anping dares not speak recklessly. Due to illness, my master's temper is not very gentle, but he always has his unspoken troubles. Therefore, if he has offended anyone, please forgive him."
As he spoke, Anping slightly raised his eyes to look at Hua Chongyang, his voice still respectful and polite:
"To be frank, my master—aside from the young lady—has never given any outsider a second glance."
Hua Chongyang was startled again.
Anping emerged from the corner, suddenly stepped aside, and knelt down. Hua Chongyang was startled; before he could react, Anping stood up and bowed respectfully again.
"Thank you for your kindness, young lady."
She stood there in a daze, watching Anping get up and slowly walk out the door. Only then did she realize that he had a crippled leg, which was why he walked with an unsteady gait.
For some reason, Hua Chongyang was convinced that Anping was a good person.
With a heavy heart, Hua Chongyang walked through the half-curtained front hall into the back courtyard. Standing under the corridor that ran through the courtyard, he was stunned by the scene before him.
The figure standing in the distance of the corridor was clearly Zu Xian, wearing a greyish-white fox fur coat half-draped over his body, the hem trailing on the ground, his long, dark hair reaching his waist cascading down his back in disarray. Under the eaves of the corridor, starting from where Hua Chongyang stood, rows of large red lanterns, at varying heights, stretched all the way to the one in Zu Xian's hand.
At that moment, he was coughing as he intently lit a lantern with a candle. The bright red lantern paper and the orange-yellow candlelight reflected on his pale face and dark eyes—giving Hua Chongyang the illusion that his expression was excessively gentle and quiet.
She walked quietly, step by step, towards the end of the corridor. Only when she was almost beside Zu Xian did she catch a faint smell of wine in the wind. Hua Chongyang frowned and called out:
"Zu Xian!"
Zu Xian, who had straightened his back and raised his arm to hang the lantern on the eaves, paused and then slowly turned his head.
Hua Chongyang could vaguely see the hazy intoxication in his eyes.
As expected, Zu Xian turned around, a smile curving his lips into one that was completely unrelated to his usual irritating personality:
"It's you."
"You've been drinking again." Hua Chongyang sniffed, walked closer to him, and casually grabbed the fox fur coat that had slipped off his shoulder. "Are you alone?"
"Hmm." Zu Xian slowly put down the red lantern in his hand, coughed a few times, and then raised his long, deep eyes, which were filled with a tipsy glint. "You've come?"
Hua Chongyang was stunned.
For the first time, she realized that a person's drunken eyes could be so alluring.
Coming to her senses, she straightened his fox fur coat, her rough voice masking her earlier daze:
"I'm just passing by. Why are you turning on so many lights by yourself?"
Zu Xian glanced at Hua Chongyang, his wine-filled eyes narrowing even more, his intoxicated tone unusually serious:
Wouldn't it be more lively with a few more lights?
The warm candlelight fell silently on the snow on both sides of the corridor. Zu Xian raised an eyebrow, turned around, and staggered towards the eaves, slowly raising his arm to hang the lantern. In the quiet night, Hua Chongyang watched him stretch out his slender, white fingers, trying again and again, until finally the lantern was hung up.
Zu Xian, whose expression was usually indifferent, now had a slight smile on his lips.
Hua Chongyang sighed, reached out and took Zu Xian's cold hands, finally unable to suppress the rare pity that welled up in his heart:
"Don't order any more, it's too cold outside."
The room remained warm and cozy, with several large braziers placed side by side under the wooden couch. Hua Chongyang settled Zu Xian on the couch, then noticed a wine jar on one side and casually reached out to shake it—it was empty. On the table beside him, a bowl full of medicine sat untouched.
Looking back, Zu Xian, drunk, was leaning against the wooden couch, half asleep and half awake.
Hua Chongyang touched his forehead, wanting to abandon him and leave, but remembering what Anping had said earlier, he turned back, picked up the medicine from the table, sat back down by the bed, and lowered his voice:
"Grandpa, get up and take your medicine."
Amidst intermittent coughing, Zu Xian raised his head, glanced at the medicine bowl with blurry, drunken eyes, then turned his head away with a look of disgust.
"...Anping, didn't I already tell you? Leave it for now, I'll drink it later."
"It'll get cold if you leave it any longer." Hua Chongyang invoked his ten years of cultivated patience, patiently persuading him, "Don't be stubborn. No matter how bitter it is, it'll pass in the blink of an eye. Just open your mouth, grit your teeth, close your eyes, and you'll drink it down."
This time, Zu Xian did not turn his face away.
He glanced at the medicine bowl, then looked up at Hua Chongyang, and slowly raised the corners of his eyes, as if he had realized something:
"...Is it Hua Chongyang?"