That night, the group spent the night on the desolate riverbank. The next day, they crossed the treacherous Li Tu Beach, navigating its dangerous rapids and rugged terrain. Beyond the beach, a large ship awaited them, sent by none other than Murong Jing He.
It turned out that when Murong Jing He had claimed to be inseparably attached to Mei Lin and secluded himself in his room for over ten days, he had actually left Jingbei in secret. His first destination was the Zhongshan Stone Forest, where he conducted another reconnaissance, followed by making strategic arrangements in response to the evolving situation. One of these preparations was to have a ship stationed downstream of Li Tu Beach, ready in case of an emergency. Clearly, his foresight had been spot on.
As they sailed on the fast-moving ship that covered miles in a single day, Luo Mei began to realize she might need to reassess Murong Jing He, the man she once believed to be a spent force.
Since the previous day when he agreed to let Mei Lin go, Murong Jing He had been in a state of emotional turmoil, as if suppressing something deep within. This made everyone around him cautious, as if any sudden movement might trigger something terrifying.
Standing by the ship's window, gazing at the serene mountains and rivers that had appeared since they left Li Tu Beach, Murong Jing He couldn’t stop thinking about Qing Yan’s words—“Let her go.” He reflected on the events of the past few months and the impending storms on the horizon. Finally, with a sense of resignation, he cast one last longing glance at the drifting clouds in the sky before resolutely turning away.
“So be it… let her go!”
Walking through the unfamiliar streets of a small town, Mei Lin felt a wave of confusion. For the past fifteen years, as long as she could remember, she had always been under someone’s control, striving for the singular goal of leaving the dark factory alive. When she left Zhongshan, her days were consumed by caring for the paralyzed Murong Jing He and battling the effects of the poison within her—every day felt like a race against time. The first time she fled Jingbei, she had the support of the leprosy-ridden doctor, determined to nurse him back to health. Each of these tasks was something she had to do, never leaving her much choice. Now, free from any ties or obligations, and with no one to force her into anything, she found herself standing in front of newfound freedom, unsure of what to do with it—like a beggar suddenly presented with a fortune, unsure of how to spend it.
Jingbei was off-limits. In the midst of this harsh winter, even the warmest parts of the south couldn’t offer the brilliant spring flowers she longed to see.
Unable to go where she wanted most and unable to find what she desired most, she wandered aimlessly, climbing mountains, crossing rivers, and passing through town after town, like a drifting soul with no place to rest.
One day, she suddenly realized that the surroundings looked familiar. Following the path, she was astonished to find herself back at Lao Wozi Village, where she had once stayed for several days. She couldn’t quite describe her feelings, but it was as if her feet had a will of their own, leading her slowly toward the familiar mudbrick houses.
Occasionally, she encountered villagers who gave her surprised and concerned looks, asking about her well-being. Mei Lin couldn’t answer, so she just smiled in response.
She pushed open the half-closed wooden gate, entered, and shut it behind her.
Everything was just as it had been—the window was still open as it had been when she left. The bed was half-covered with a blanket, as if the person who had slept there had only stepped out for a moment and would return soon. The bedding near the window had yellowed from being soaked by rain, indicating that it had rained more than once while she was gone.
In a daze, Mei Lin felt as if she could see him again, half-reclining against the bed, gazing quietly out the window, his eyes filled with a gentle smile.
At that moment, her body began to tremble uncontrollably. She slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down her face like a string of pearls, as every word he had ever spoken to her echoed clearly in her mind.
“You are my woman. You’re not allowed to marry anyone but me.”
“I won’t punish you. I’m going to marry you.”
“You are the daughter of a brothel prostitute…”
“Today, I will officiate your wedding with Qing Yan.”
Mei Lin had never known the release of crying aloud in sorrow. She had spent her life suppressing her emotions, and even now, her tears fell silently.
Mei Lin stayed in Lao Wozi Village. She didn’t know where else she could go.
She rewashed the bedding that had been soaked by the rain and hung it out in the yard to dry on sunny days. She would light a fire in the bed, then crawl under the covers and lie awake until morning. She took out her own clothes from the chest that still held both of their garments and then locked the chest, never to open it again. She bought some green cotton fabric and began learning how to make winter clothes…
Villagers would drop by to chat, asking about her husband.
Mei Lin would smile and say that she had found a doctor who could cure his paralysis, and that he was staying with the doctor and would return once he was healed. Perhaps because she had stopped taking mandrake and ground root for a long time, her voice had regained some of its strength, and although it was still hoarse, people could understand her words.
The villagers assumed she was sick, so they didn’t think much of it. Seeing her speak with such joy and anticipation, they shared in her happiness.
He will come back. She didn’t know if she had said it so many times that she was starting to believe it herself, but she couldn’t help glancing toward the mountain path beyond the courtyard. She imagined that when he came, he would be bathed in the glow of the setting sun, his sleeves brushed by wildflowers.
When spring arrived, if she was still able, she would go to Jingbei one more time. One morning, as she wiped the frost from the edge of the well, she saw her increasingly gaunt reflection in the water and quietly made up her mind. But deep down, she knew that what she wanted to see most wasn’t the mountains covered in blooming spring flowers.
Maybe if you dream the same dream long enough, it can come true, even if it turns out differently than expected.
On the 29th day of the twelfth lunar month, the sun didn’t rise. As dusk fell, the remote mountain village seemed to be enveloped in a thin layer of mist.
Mei Lin was in the kitchen, tending the fire for cooking. As the oil from the wild boar meat melted and heated in the wok, a rich aroma wafted through the air.
At that moment, the urgent sound of hooves suddenly pierced the stillness of the evening mist, drawing closer with each heavy, resonant beat, causing a shiver to run down her spine.
At first, Mei Lin didn’t want to pay attention to it. She poured the washed greens into the wok and gave them a quick stir, but in the end, she couldn’t resist. She removed the wok from the roaring fire, wiped her hands, and walked outside.
A lone rider appeared on the mountain path, cloaked in the twilight. His cape billowed behind him in the cold wind, like dark clouds rolling in.
Mei Lin stood under the eaves, watching as the rider halted just outside the courtyard. Her heart was unexpectedly calm. She thought, deep down, she had known he would come. But this time, what was it for?
The wooden gate creaked open, and the man strode in as if he were entering his own home. His sharp eyes locked onto hers, and his handsome face was covered in dust from the road.
Though it had only been a month since they had parted, Murong Jing He now carried an even stronger aura of menace and authority.
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