When Murong Jing He received the news that Luo Mei had been attacked and Mei Lin was dead, he had just eradicated the remaining forces of Nan Yue and was now charging across the battlefield of Xiyan, his fighting spirit soaring, unstoppable in his advance.
He took the note stating that Mei Lin, driven by jealousy, had attempted to assassinate Luo Mei and had been killed in the process, and stared at it under the tallow lamp for a long time, as if he couldn’t comprehend what it meant. Then, calmly, he called for his guards and ordered them to drag the messenger out and execute him.
“Bringing such nonsense—what use is there in keeping him alive?” he said.
Fortunately, Qing Yan was by his side and managed to stop the execution in time. However, when he saw the contents of the note that Murong Jing He had tossed to him, he too was momentarily stunned. His usually quick mind went blank, incapable of processing the information. He thought, this situation is absurd—so absurd it’s almost laughable.
“Where is Yue Qin? Why hasn’t he come?” Qing Yan asked, struggling to shake off the feeling of unreality as he looked at the pale-faced messenger kneeling on the ground.
“General Luo Mei, out of gratitude for Mei Lin’s life-saving efforts, allowed Yue Qin to take her body to Jingbei for burial, as per her last wishes,” the messenger replied, drenched in cold sweat, terrified that a single misstep in his answer would lead to his death.
Qing Yan glanced at Murong Jing He, whose face remained expressionless. His mind, still unable to think clearly, waved the messenger away.
The two men remained silent in the tent—one sitting, the other standing. After a long while, Qing Yan hesitantly asked, “Master, should we return to the capital?”
Murong Jing He rubbed his temples, his gaze falling on the enemy’s military deployment map spread out before him. “Do you actually believe this nonsense? When have you ever seen that woman willingly cause trouble?” he said coldly, dismissing the subject as he refocused on the map, signaling that the conversation was over.
Qing Yan studied his master’s face, cast in sharp relief by the lamplight, and noted how it seemed to grow even more stern and severe. A sense of foreboding crept into his heart.
Qing Yan’s premonition soon proved true.
The very next day, Murong Jing He managed to breach the defenses of a fortified city on the western border of Xiyan and then issued an order to massacre the city.
Standing atop the highest point in the city, watching the slaughter unfold in the streets below, Murong Jing He’s expression was cold and unfeeling. Qing Yan realized he had to find a way to bring his master back to the capital as quickly as possible, or Xiyan would be reduced to ashes.
After much deliberation, Qing Yan finally sought the help of Luo Mei, who was still recovering in the capital. Luo Mei, citing her severe injuries, successfully persuaded Murong Jing He to temporarily leave the battlefield.
However, to everyone’s surprise, Murong Jing He changed course on his way back and headed for Jingbei instead.
In the end, he had believed the news.
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In February, the peach blossoms turned red, the apricot blossoms turned white, fields of rapeseed flowers bloomed, and the willow leaves were as green as emerald...
February in Jingbei was a time of wildflowers everywhere.
A lone rider carrying two people wandered aimlessly through the mountains and wilds, surrounded by the brilliant bloom of spring flowers that had taken an entire season to prepare. Sometimes the two rode together, sometimes the man led the horse while the woman lay across its back, and sometimes the man carried the woman on his back, with the horse leisurely following behind...
She had said she liked spring flowers, so he took her to see all the spring flowers under heaven.
When they came across a clear, sparkling stream, the man would let the woman sit by the side while he pulled out a handkerchief to carefully wipe the dirt from her face and hands, then drape a silver-white robe over her shoulders.
“Why don’t you have a single decent piece of clothing? When we get to the city, I’ll buy you some new clothes,” he said gently, smoothing her hair and tucking a sprig of early spring flowers into it.
He carried her on his back, walking slowly through a forest of wild pear trees, the air filled with the delicate white blossoms that fell like jade flakes scattered across the earth.
“Do you remember when you used to carry me like this? Now it’s my turn to carry you…” he said, pausing to look into the distance with a wistful smile. “You were so small, always pulling and tugging—it was really uncomfortable, you know? Not like how steady and comfortable this is.” As he spoke, he adjusted her position to make her more comfortable, afraid she might be in pain.
They crested a mountain and looked down at a field of soft green shoots, with smoke curling up from chimneys in the distant village nestled among the trees.
He stood on the peak for a while, not approaching the village, but instead walking along the ridgeline.
“Actually, I can sing too,” he suddenly said. “It’s much more interesting than your songs about peaches and apricots. Listen, I’ll sing for you.”
He stood still for a moment, gathering himself, and then threw his head back and let his voice ring out over the empty hills and drifting clouds.
“With a force that could lift mountains, my strength is unmatched. But time is against me, and my steed won’t gallop. What can I do if my steed won’t gallop? Yu Ji…” he broke off abruptly, spitting in disgust. “What a stupid song!”
He reached back to pat the woman’s head and laughed, “Don’t worry, I’m not some brute of a king, and you’re not some delicate Yu Ji. You always left me behind, but I’ll never leave you again.” These words were more for himself than for her.
Then, he fell silent.
He specifically sought out places where the wildflowers were in full bloom, walking or riding endlessly, never stopping. One day, following a trail of peach blossoms as bright as clouds, they arrived at a small town. He carried her into a restaurant, beating to a pulp anyone who tried to stop him, leaving them bloodied and bruised.
He ordered a full table of dishes. He tried to feed her, but she wouldn’t eat, so he ordered porridge instead.
“Eat something…” His attempts to spoon-feed her were awkward and clumsy, but there was a gentleness to his actions that made the people hiding in the back and peeking from outside doubt that this was the same man who had just beaten them up.
The porridge dribbled from the woman’s mouth, which was already beginning to decay, staining her clothes. He quickly pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her clean, his expression tinged with sadness.
“If you don’t want to eat, then don’t. I’m here with you, that’s all that matters. There’s nothing good in this little place anyway. When we get back to the capital, I’ll have them make you something delicious,” he said, stroking her hair tenderly before lifting her onto his back once more. “Let’s go buy you some clothes…” he added, tossing a silver ingot onto the table as he spoke.
As they walked down the street, he bought her trinkets from the vendors, handing them to her even though she never took them. He never tired of it.
“I don’t think I’ve ever given you anything,” he said, feeling a pang of guilt. He searched his memory but couldn’t recall ever giving her a single gift—not even a kind word.
From now on, he vowed to give her anything she wanted, anything this world had to offer.
The townsfolk gave them a wide berth, and the vendors fled, leaving their stalls unmanned. He didn’t mind. As he whispered to her, he continued to browse the stalls and shops, searching for something she might like.
But just as they were about to reach the clothing store, a group of people armed with hoes and sickles suddenly rushed out from one end of the otherwise empty street, yelling and cursing as they charged toward him.
“There he is! Quick, grab him…”
“Beat him to death… let’s kill this corpse-stealing lunatic…”
“Oh, my poor son… my poor daughter…”
After kicking a few of them away, he finally heard what they were shouting and froze for a moment. Then, with a swift motion, he spun around and gently lowered the woman from his back, brushing aside the hair that covered her left forehead. He stared at her for a long moment, then, still not satisfied, pushed aside the bangs on the right.
He stood there, as still as a statue. Then, suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed—a wild, joyous laugh that quickly turned into wailing sobs of grief so intense it seemed to tear him apart. The townspeople, taken aback, exchanged confused glances, their anger and fear giving way to uncertainty. Even the shouting and crying died down.
The green-clad guard who had been following him silently parted the crowd and stepped forward, draping a long robe over his master’s filthy shoulders.
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