"Still want to chase?" He leaped forward, turning his head to smile slightly at the persistent young man. "Alright then—"
With a sudden drop in his arm, he struck the ice with his palm!
"Crack—" The thick ice suddenly split open, the crack spreading out like lightning. The glacier shattered in an instant, and the cold, black river opened its gaping maw, swallowing the two young men and women fleeing on the ice!
“Now, it’s over.” He withdrew his hand, smiled at the stunned peer, and watched him slowly kneel down in front of him in a state of collapse, letting out a desperate scream.
...
Is it over? No.
Twelve years later, under a snowy night in the wilderness, the shadow of fate once again enveloped him.
"Xue Huai... it's cold." Inside the golden lynx fur coat, the woman was curled up so tightly, her whole body trembling slightly. "It's so cold."
Miao Feng lowered his head, looking at the dependence revealed on that pale face. Suddenly, he felt as if a needle had pierced the deepest part of his heart. Endless sorrow and powerlessness swept over him uncontrollably, almost crushing him. Before he could even realize it, a tear had already slid down from the corner of his eye and instantly froze into ice.
The moment his first tear in fifteen years fell, the smile vanished from his face.
He didn't know what this unprecedented feeling was all about, and simply closed his eyes silently in the wind and snow.
He was a survivor of the Loulan royal family, having witnessed the decline and extinction of his clan. Since being rescued from bandits by the Pope, his life's purpose has been singular—he is merely a sword in the Pope's hand. He lives only for that one person, and dies only for that one person… without questioning the reason, without hesitation.
For so many years, he remained calm and serene, never wavering for a moment.
However… why does he feel such a deep and hidden pain at this moment? Is he… filled with regret?
Does he regret having so much blood on his hands, and regret hurting the person in front of him?
Unable to answer, he simply took off his lynx fur coat in the snow and embraced the exhausted female healer tightly. The woman inside the lynx fur coat slowly regained her strength, her shivering body pressed against his chest, so trusting and reliant—
Completely unaware, the person beside him had hands stained with blood.
A minor official at the Uliastai post station went out on patrol in the middle of the night and witnessed a dreamlike scene:
Amidst the swirling snow, a man in white staggered towards them, his strange blue hair flying wildly in the wind, his clothes splattered with blood, and he carrying a person in his arms. He ran incredibly fast, and in the instant the clerk awoke from his slumber, he had already dashed along the post road into the city and disappeared into the willow grove.
"Heavens...is this a ghost?" the clerk muttered, rubbing his eyes, and shone a lantern on the ground.
There, deep footprints were clearly visible in the snow, and beside them, drops of blood were a shocking sight.
When Xue Ziye woke up, it was already dawn the next day.
This time, she woke up not in a carriage. She was sleeping peacefully on a kang (a heated brick bed), covered with three quilts, her internal energy flowing smoothly and comfortably. A fire was burning inside, making the room very warm. Outside the inn, the willows were green, and someone was playing a flute.
To her surprise, Miaofeng was not by her side when she woke up this time.
Strange, where did they go?
"In the days of summer and the nights of winter, after a hundred years, one returns to one's dwelling."
Winter nights, summer days. After a hundred years, return to one's room.
It was "Ge Sheng"—the familiar melody made her realize something, and she felt a surge of gratitude. She understood that Miao Feng was trying to persuade her in the most tactful way. The white-clad man who always smiled possessed a hidden murderous aura, capable of killing without a trace, yet he also had such a delicate heart, able to quickly discern the inner joys and sorrows of others.
She got out of bed and went to the window. But the music suddenly stopped, as if the flutist had also fallen silent at the same moment.
A moment later, another song began to play.
When she opened the window, she saw a white-clad figure playing a flute in the willow grove. Miao Feng sat on a willow branch, leaning against the tree, his head slightly tilted back, his eyes closed as he played a short flute. The enchanting and profound melody flowed from his fingertips, dancing gently in the wind along with his white clothes and blue hair.
The flute's melody was peculiar, unlike any tune from the Central Plains, filled with a mysterious sorrow. It was as if someone under the vast sky looked up and gazed, letting out a deep sigh; or as if a bonfire leaped in the night, illuminating the face of a dancing girl. Joyful yet melancholic, passionate yet mysterious, it was as if water and fire were merging and blooming together.
Xue Ziye was speechless for a moment—was this a dream? In such a strong sandstorm, there was a place like Uliastai; and in such willow greenery, she could actually hear such beautiful flute music.
"Awake?" The flute music stopped abruptly the moment she opened the window, and Miaofeng opened her eyes. "Have you rested well?"
She nodded hesitantly, suddenly feeling a sense of loss as if her dream had been shattered.
"Then let's get going after we've eaten," he said, gazing at the sky with a somewhat dazed expression. After a moment, he suddenly came to his senses, put away his flute, and jumped down. "I'll go check if the new horse I bought has been fed enough hay."
In the instant he passed by, Xue Ziye had a vague, strange feeling, but she didn't know why.
Only after his figure disappeared into the willow grove did she realize what had made her feel uneasy—that his ever-smiling face had somehow lost its smile!
What is he sad about now?
They hired the best coachmen in Uliastai at a high price, and the carriage sped along the post road.
Inside the car, Xue Ziye kept watching Miaofeng with some trepidation. This man had been holding a short flute in a daze the whole way, staring at the white snow outside the car, without saying a word—and strangely enough, there wasn't a trace of a smile on his face.
"What... happened?" Finally unable to hold back any longer, she broke the suffocating silence. "Has your wound worsened?"
“No,” Miao Feng replied calmly. “The Valley Master’s medicine is very good.”
"Then," she looked at him, puzzled, "why aren't you smiling?"
He turned to look at her with some surprise: "Why am I laughing?"
Xue Ziye was stunned—the Spring Breeze Technique could change a person's temperament and personality from the inside out, making the practitioner more harmonious and peaceful, with no distracting thoughts. That kind of smile was a natural expression of that inner self. From the moment she saw Miao Fengqi, she knew that he had cultivated it for more than ten years and had perfectly integrated his temperament with his inner energy.
However, at this moment, the smile suddenly disappeared from his face.
Xue Ziye was vaguely worried, but only said, "So you can play the flute too."
Miao Feng finally smiled slightly and raised the short flute in her hand: "No, this is not a flute, it is a bili, a musical instrument of us Western Region people - my sister taught me more than a dozen ancient songs of Loulan before, but unfortunately I have forgotten most of them."
He turned his head slightly, looked at the clear blue sky after the snow, and sighed.