In that instant, a tidal wave of pain and sorrow overwhelmed him completely. Huo Zhan Bai buried his head in his hands, his shoulders trembling violently. He struggled to suppress his emotions, but in the end, he could not stop the low, sorrowful sobs from escaping.
Nan Gong, the old pavilion master, stood nearby, staring in shock.
This was the first time in over a decade that he had seen the young man break down in such grief.
“Huh…” The patient behind the screen was startled awake and emerged in a daze. Seeing the man sobbing with his head in his hands, she gazed at him with a look of surprise. She silently watched him for a moment, as if looking at a crying child. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled gently, completely different from her usual irritable self, and approached him. She extended her hand and pulled the crying man into her embrace.
She softly patted his back, murmuring, “There, there… Mo’er, don’t cry. Don’t cry, Mo’er. Mother is here. No one will dare to hurt you… Don’t cry…”
With a handkerchief, she tenderly wiped away the tears that had fallen from the corners of his eyes, as if she were a mother doting on her child.
The overwhelming grief lasted only a moment, then settled into an eternal silence. Huo Zhan Bai raised his head, staring in a daze at the woman who, for the first time in years, had shown him such closeness. A bitter smile appeared in his eyes.
“Qiu Shui,” he murmured with a sigh, reaching out to touch her cheek.
She smiled at him warmly.
—So, it really was fate? He and she, neither could escape the other.
Thus, they would remain entangled for a lifetime.
* * *
Three months later, Dingjian Pavilion officially dispatched the Six Swords as emissaries to escort Huo Zhan Bai to the Dingjian Pavilion in Muling.
As the Six Swords dismounted in front of the manor, the long-closed gates suddenly opened, and all the servants were astonished to see Master Huo standing there. He was dressed in pure white, like the boundless snowfields. In his hand, he gripped the jet-black Mohun Sword. His face still bore the weariness of days spent drinking, but his eyes had already regained their usual clarity and sharpness.
“Let’s go,” he said, without a single word of courtesy, turning calmly, as if he had already known this was a responsibility he could not escape.
“Mo’er! Mo’er!” Madam Qiu, hearing the commotion from the front hall, rushed over. “Where are you going?”
Her eyes were filled with panic, like a frightened deer, as she clung tightly to his hand. “Don’t go out! Those people want to harm you! If you leave, you won’t come back!”
Wei Fengxing and Xia Qianyu exchanged an awkward glance.
Huo Zhan Bai’s eyes, however, were filled with a deep, sorrowful tenderness. He lowered his head and gently patted her. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen.” Then, he softly yet firmly removed her hand and signaled with his eyes, at which point two elderly maids, who had been taking care of Qiu Shui Yin, came forward to escort her away.
Surrounded by the Six Swords, he strode out of the manor, mounted his horse, and set off for Dingjian Pavilion in Muling.
“Zhan Bai!” As the group galloped away, a sharp cry echoed faintly from within the gates. Qiu Shui Yin had pushed away the two elderly maids and stumbled to the gate, calling out his name clearly as she watched his departing figure. “Zhan Bai, don’t go!”
Huo Zhan Bai’s hand, gripping the reins, trembled slightly, but he did not turn back.
“Qingran told me that her madness was just a temporary reaction to being shocked. She should have recovered long ago,” Wei Fengxing spoke softly as they rode side by side, clearly understanding the situation. “She’s been pretending to be dazed all this time, probably just to keep you with her—don’t blame her.”
“I know,” Huo Zhan Bai nodded. “I don’t blame her.”
Wei Fengxing paused, then asked, “You’ll marry her, won’t you?”
Huo Zhan Bai remained silent for a long time before finally speaking: “I will take care of her for the rest of my life.”
Wei Fengxing’s eyes flickered, realizing that this resolute promise was also a firm rejection. He let out a long sigh.
The two continued riding in silence for a while, before Wei Fengxing lowered his head and said, “Seventh brother, you must stay strong.”
“Yes,” Huo Zhan Bai suddenly smiled and nodded. “I will be a good pavilion master. You can relax and focus on being a good husband!”
In the fourth month after returning from the Kunlun expedition, Huo Zhan Bai and the Six Swords arrived in Muling. Before the entire martial world, he received the symbolic Nine Golden Tripods of the Central Plains Martial Alliance from the hands of the old master Nan Gong, and with the Mohun Sword, took his seat upon the pavilion's throne.
The crowd erupted in cheers, but the newly appointed martial leader only smiled faintly, without a trace of joy.
—Wei Wu, yes, I promised I would be a good pavilion master.
But in truth, I would much rather be an ordinary man like you, spending my days with a beloved wife and children, living out my years in peace.
When Nan Gong, the old master, went to Medicine Valley for treatment, the new leader, though burdened with many duties, still accompanied him.
The White Stone Formation in the valley was still slowly shifting amidst the wind and snow, but among those who came to greet them at the entrance, the figure clad in purple was nowhere to be seen. As Liao Qingran and her maids opened the White Stone Formation, Huo Zhan Bai noticed the white flowers adorning their hair and felt a sharp pain in his heart, nearly bringing him to tears.
Liao Qingran gazed at him, her eyes filled with sighs, but in the end, she said nothing, merely leading the old master to the Summer Pavilion.
“Master Huo, please rest in the Winter Garden,” a familiar voice suddenly spoke from beside him. Turning his head, he saw that it was Shuang Hong.
In just a few months, the lively and outspoken maid had become much more subdued, her eyes slightly swollen, as if she had cried countless times in recent days.
He gritted his teeth and nodded, then, without waiting for her to lead the way, walked off by himself.
This path was one he had walked countless times over the past eight years.
But now, retracing his steps, every step felt like a thousand arrows piercing his heart.
When he reached the steps in front of the courtyard, his courage was completely spent. He stood there, staring blankly at the white plum tree that had already shed its blossoms, unable to take another step forward. Perched on the tree, a snow-white bird gazed at him quietly, its eyes full of sorrow.
“When I return, we’ll drink together!” He had waved to her, laughing, when he left. “I’ll definitely beat you!”
But now, they were separated forever, as distant as the stars and the sea.
“Master Huo…” Shuang Hong suddenly handed him something—it was a handkerchief. “It’s yours.”
Huo Zhan Bai lowered his eyes and saw the ink stains scattered across the handkerchief. His heart was pierced by a sharp pain.
“‘The night comes, snow will fall—will you join me for a drink?’”
That was the message he had sent her from Yangzhou via the snow falcon. Yet, she would never be able to answer that invitation.
Shuang Hong bowed her head and spoke softly: “Before the Valley Master left Medicine Valley, she told me: if one day, Master Huo truly returns, I should tell you that the wine is buried beneath the plum tree.”
“Beneath the plum tree?” He looked in confusion toward where she was pointing, and suddenly remembered.
That quiet night, after betting on drinks and playing games with that woman in purple, they had slept soundly beneath the plum tree. As the snowflakes fell, he awoke under the night sky, feeling, for the first time in his life, a deep sense of peace and fulfillment. In that moment, he had found the courage to let go of the past, because his life had gained a new vitality.
That snowy moonlit night, the falling plum blossoms, and the woman sleeping in his arms—they all seemed so close, yet were forever out of reach.
He saw a small mound of earth under the white plum tree and bent down to brush away the dirt. Sure enough, there was a jar of wine buried there.
Shuang Hong, speaking in a hushed tone, said, “The Valley Master also said that if she didn’t return, the wine should remain buried. Drinking alone harms the body. When you find someone to drink with, then come back.”
Hearing this, Huo Zhan Bai slowly put the wine jar down, lifted his head, and stared at the withered white plum tree in a daze.
In that moment, a wave of unbearable grief surged through his heart, like a mountain collapsing. He wanted to let out a loud cry but found himself unable to utter a single word. Finally, in a fit of frustration, he struck the railing with his sword, shattering the jade stones with a sharp crack.
Shuang Hong didn’t stop him. She just watched as he swung his sword in a frenzy, her own suppressed tears finally overflowing as she covered her face and wept. If the Valley Master hadn’t died… then today, they would be sitting under the plum tree, drinking and laughing together, wouldn’t they? For the past eight years, every time Seventh Young Master Huo came to the valley to recover from his injuries, the Valley Master was filled with joy.
All the maids had hoped she would forget the young man sleeping beneath the ice and begin a new, happy life.
But now, everything had been shattered.
Her heart was boiling over with emotion, but there was no one to confide in. Huo Zhan Bai continued to strike with his sword, shattering everything in his path. Beneath the blows of the Mohun Sword, jade fragments scattered like snow. Yet, before his sword could fall once more, it was suddenly blocked by an invisible, gentle force.
“The dead are gone,” a voice said quietly as someone approached, deflecting his sword. “Seventh Young Master, you can’t just destroy the Valley Master’s home.”
Huo Zhan Bai looked up and saw a figure with long, ice-blue hair. He gasped, “Miao Feng?”
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