As dusk began to fall, Huo Zhan Bai and Liao Qingran prepared to head south to Lin'an.
In such weather, with snow threatening to descend, the couple, Wei Liao and his wife, ought to have been at The Ancient Magnolia Courtyard, lighting up a small clay stove with red clay, enjoying fresh wine with a hint of green while playing drinking games and guessing riddles. But their plans were rudely interrupted by an untimely guest.
“Thank you for your hard work,” Huo Zhan Bai looked at the woman who had traveled all night, filled with remorse. “Liao…”
His voice faltered at the name — considering Liao Qingran was a friend of Xue Zi Ye, he should address her respectfully as a senior. However, calling her senior would mean admitting that he was a head shorter than Young Master Wei. [The mention of "a head shorter" is an idiomatic expression, meaning feeling inferior or humbled.]
“Seventh Young Master, no need to be so polite.” Liao Qingran, unconcerned with such trivialities, patted the sleeping child and handed him over to Wei Feng Xing, instructing, “The weather is still cold these days, don’t let Abao catch a chill. Make sure the food is warm, and dress him in more layers when going in and out — if anything happens, you’ll see how I deal with you when I return!”
Wei Feng Xing held the child, nodding compliantly without daring to say a word.
Was this really the same Wei Wu, the once-dashing gentleman who had bewitched countless women of the martial world? He now seemed more like a sheep under the lioness’s fierce control. Huo Zhan Bai watched from the side, amused, but he didn’t dare laugh.
Now he finally understood where Xue Zi Ye's fiery temperament came from — truly, like master, like disciple.
“Feng Xing, I’ll be off with Seventh Young Master.” Liao Qingran mounted her horse and gave a final detailed reminder: “There’s no telling how long this trip will take, it depends on Xu Mo's condition — it could be as quick as three to five days, or as long as one or two months. You’ll be home alone, so be extra careful—" Her tone suddenly shifted: “And if I hear you’ve been sneaking off to fool around with Xia Qianyu, I’ll break your legs!”
“Yes, yes.” Wei Feng Xing wasn’t angry, just nodded repeatedly while holding Abao.
In the dusk, the cold air stirred, and the gray clouds showed signs of snow. Wei Feng Xing took something from his side, shaking it out to reveal a large cloak, which he wrapped around his wife. “Even if you are a divine doctor, you should still be careful not to catch a cold.”
Liao Qingran smiled, then unexpectedly turned her head and kissed him on the forehead, showing a tender side: “Got it. Stay at home and behave, I’ll bring back your favorite plum blossom cakes from Lin'an.”
She rode off along the grassy path, her horse’s hooves clattering. Huo Zhan Bai quickly mounted his own horse, glancing back at the man holding the child, standing in the courtyard, watching them depart. A faint sense of melancholy arose within him —
So, this is what they call a perfect couple.
He caught up with Liao Qingran, and the two rode side by side. The woman, wearing a hood, sped through the night. Though she was over thirty, she radiated a grace and charm like a fine jade, growing more refined with age.
That old rascal Wei really is lucky.
Huo Zhan Bai vaguely remembered, many years ago, during a clash with the southern Moon Worship Sect, Wei Feng Xing had been severely injured and left the Central Plains for treatment, only returning a year later. It must have been then that the two met — afterward, she resigned as the head of the Apothecary Valley, hiding her name and coming to the Central Plains, and Young Master Wei, at the prime of his life, withdrew from the martial world to live a peaceful life with her.
“Seventh Young Master Huo, I actually owe you my thanks—” He was lost in thought when suddenly a sigh reached his ears.
Startled, he turned to meet Liao Qingran’s meaningful gaze. “Because of you, my foolish disciple finally let go of that unrealistic dream. She was lost in it for too long. Now that her obsession is broken, everything can begin anew.”
She smiled at him. “Seventh Young Master Huo, I wonder when the obsession in your heart will be released?”
Huo Zhan Bai stroked the horse Xue Zi Ye had given him, and suddenly smiled. “Master Liao, your disciple has quite the tolerance for alcohol—once Xu Mo recovers, I’d like to visit the Apothecary Valley again and challenge her properly.”
“Is that so? Well, I’m afraid you won’t outdrink her,” Liao Qingran brushed her hood back behind her ears and winked at him. “Drinking, guessing riddles — I taught her all of it. She’s already surpassed me in every way. You know, back in the day, that’s exactly how Feng Xing lost himself to me.”
“What?” Huo Zhan Bai was taken aback, then burst into laughter.
“Hehe,” Liao Qingran looked at him and laughed too. “If you go, you might end up just like him.”
“Hahaha,” Huo Zhan Bai, after a moment’s pause, laughed heartily, spurred his horse, and galloped ahead, shouting back, “That wouldn’t be so bad either!”
The night deepened, and faint snowflakes began to fall. Huo Zhan Bai, galloping, tilted his head to watch the snow gently drifting down. Suddenly, he felt dazed — that woman... what was she doing now? Was she drinking alone, or talking to the person beneath the ice?
In that lonely valley... it felt as if time had stopped.
He suddenly realized he couldn’t stop thinking about her. On this night, before returning to Lin'an to put an end to everything, the burden in his heart had been lifted, and the memories of the past eight years came flooding back... that moonlit night in the snow, the plum blossoms falling, the person asleep in his arms — it all seemed so near.
Perhaps... it really was time to say goodbye to the past.
He wished so much that he were still that young man from eight years ago, reckless and determined; he once believed he would carry this hopeless, burning love for the rest of his life. But in the end, everything faded with time. Strangely, he didn’t feel sad about its passing, nor was he ashamed of his decision to let go.
It turns out that even the deepest feelings in life cannot withstand the passage of time.
Liu Feifei was wise. Knowing something was unattainable, she calmly let it go and chose another kind of happiness she could grasp — and what about him? In fact, the moment he awoke on that snowy night, hadn't he already let go of the thread he once thought he would hold on to for eternity?
He galloped southward, yet his heart remained in the north.
“I actually lost myself to her long ago…” Huo Zhan Bai thought in a daze for a long time. Suddenly, he gazed at the snowy night and sighed deeply, blurting out a sentence without context, “I miss her so much.”
Liao Qingran, who had been focused on the road, was startled for a moment and turned her head to look at the young man.
— The affairs of this seventh brother of Wei Feng Xing were well-known across the martial world. His vigor, his wild persistence, his restrained endurance — these were things everyone in the martial world discussed, shaking their heads in sighs and admiration.
But on this snowy night, as he was about to fulfill a long-cherished wish, had he suddenly changed his mind?
With a whistle, the snow hawk flying overhead made a turn and gently landed on his shoulder, its beady black eyes watching him. He freed one hand, took a piece of charcoal, and wrote a few lines. Then, tying the cloth to the hawk’s leg, he patted its wings and pointed toward the sky in the far north: “Go.”
The snow hawk seemed to understand its master’s command, made a low cooing sound, and soared into the wind and snow, disappearing into the vast storm.
The cloth fluttered in the wind and snow, and the few lines of writing on it seemed to radiate a faint warmth:
“Freshly brewed wine, small clay stove. Snow is about to fall in the evening, would you join me for a drink?”
Zi Ye, I’ll return north in a few days. Please wait for me under the plum tree, warming wine.
I will surely beat you this time.
The next night, the two of them, having ridden swiftly without rest, reached Qingbo Gate.
Lin'an had just seen a snowfall, and remnants of snow still lay on the Broken Bridge. They had no time to appreciate the scenery and instead galloped over the snow-covered embankment like the wind, dismounting at the foot of Jiuyao Mountain, on the eastern outskirts of the city.
“Madam Xu is here?” Liao Qingran dismounted with her medicine bag. As she looked at the small building amidst the cold willows, her expression suddenly changed. “Oh no!”
Huo Zhan Bai, hearing this, quickly raised his head. He saw white cloth draped over the entrance and faint sobbing from within. His face turned pale at once.
“Qiu Shui!” He exclaimed in shock and rushed inside. “Qiu Shui!”
He lifted the curtain in front of the mourning hall and dashed in, seeing a small coffin illuminated by flickering candlelight. The child inside lay with tightly closed eyes, cheeks sunken deeply, and the small body curled up in a ball.
“Mo'er? Mo'er!” He felt as if thunder had struck his head. He bent down to check for breath, but it was already cold.
From the back room, there came the sound of something ceramic shattering.
“You're too late,” suddenly, a cold voice said.
“You’re always too late,” the voice continued, cold and calm, but with a deep undercurrent of madness. “Ha… are you here to see how Mo'er died? Or— to watch how I die?”
It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head. Huo Zhan Bai turned abruptly and shouted, “Qiu Shui!”
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