Chapter 110 Flower-Paper Notebook "I understand, I understand."...

The letter fell to the ground and was then picked up.

Madam Yu held the thin letter in her hand: "What does it mean?"

Jiang Ji suppressed his tears: "Bo Zhou and You Yu... are not coming back."

"Didn't we win? Didn't we return in triumph?"

Jiang Ji stood in the center, involuntarily closing his eyes, and said in a trembling voice, "When they captured Mu'an City, they entered Changping Mountain to lure the enemy away. But the enemy was cunning and blocked the passage with rocks, trapping them inside. Our people couldn't get in..."

Even in early spring, snow was still falling in Mu'an, as long and deep as Changping Mountain.

Grandma Qi slammed her cane heavily on the ground: "But they're still so young! One's twenty, the other's seventeen!"

Yu Niangzi clutched Jiang Ce's last letter home, sobbing uncontrollably.

Zheng Tan, standing to the side, was in tears: "My sister-in-law is still living separately by the Wei River. Should we tell her?"

But how do I bring this up?

"I'll go, I'll go tell her." Madam Yu stood up, her face no longer wet with tears, only streaks remained.

None of the people in Yi'an Hall could bear to speak, and they remained silent.

"So, he's dead, is that right?"

Yu Niangzi and Zheng Tanhong nodded silently.

Xue Chan smiled. The only keepsake they brought was a letter stained with blood and almost unreadable.

Life and death are so heavy, yet so light, so light that a single sheet of paper can bear them.

They won the battle, but the people didn't win; they died.

However, she simply accepted the news calmly and nodded.

"I understand, I understand."

She had prepared herself for the possibility of being separated by death when she set out on the expedition, so this outcome was not unexpected. And she was only slightly disappointed.

A little bit.

The most sorrowful of all was that of Lady Yu. She sat quietly in the room, her tears flowing freely.

This father and son, at similar ages, met with similar ends.

Along with Jiang Ce, Yu jumped off the cliff when Jiang Ce was pierced by an arrow and fell to his death. By the time reinforcements arrived, it was already dusk, and all that remained under the twilight sun were piles of corpses and exhausted warhorses.

This boy, only seventeen years old, whose parents and relatives had all died defending the city years ago, still went to find his parents.

Beneath the hundred-foot cliff lie the bones of heroes, and every spring in Changping brings forth verdant greenery.

Fortunately, the Western Rong were severely damaged, and several cities that had been lost to them at the end of the previous dynasty were reclaimed. At least for a long time to come, things will be much more peaceful.

Life goes on, and the sun always rises again after it sets.

After the Lantern Festival, spring had arrived, but the entire Wu'an Marquis's mansion was adorned with funeral banners.

Zheng Shaoyu was the first person to come and pay his respects to the two. He burned paper money while cursing Jiang Ce and You Yu for a very long time.

Because there were no remains, there was only a cenotaph.

The body is laid to rest, and the funeral procession begins.

Even after the funeral was over, Xue Chan's injured hand hadn't healed for several months.

Whenever she tried to pick up a brush to paint, her hand would tremble uncontrollably, so she took some time to rest.

She didn't go out for the Flower Festival this year, but let the maids go out to play.

Xue Chan herself sat at her desk and began to paint, with Yun Sheng and Chu Tao accompanying her.

She took a breath, picked up her brush, dipped it in ink, but the brush tip remained stuck on the paper, unable to move. Her hand was trembling uncontrollably.

With a flick of her wrist, the paint scattered and dripped onto the paper. Even though Xue Chan pressed her wrist, after a few strokes, the paintbrush slipped from her hand and rolled to the ground.

Yun Sheng picked up the pen and stood to one side, looking worried with Chu Tao.

This is not the first time. In fact, she has been unable to capture the feeling she wants to express for a long time, and now she can't even hold a pen steady.

But the physician said, "Your wife's hand has healed very well and is no longer a problem."

Xue Chan sat at the desk and closed her eyes.

Yun Sheng immediately knelt down beside her and comforted her, "Perhaps, this hand hasn't fully healed yet. It will get better in a while, so don't worry too much."

Xue Chan nodded, got up and walked to the corridor, where the goldfish lantern on the swing set was lit.

She thought for a moment and said, "Today is the Flower Festival, you should all go out and have fun."

Yun Sheng and Chu Tao both shook their heads.

Xue Chan smiled and said, "Don't worry too much. Didn't the lotus lantern on the swing break a couple of days ago? Go outside and buy two more to hang up."

"Then I'll go buy two more." Chu Tao replied and left the courtyard.

When she returned, Xue Chan had already fallen asleep. Yun Sheng hung up the lanterns with her, stood by the swing, and bowed her head, weeping.

When she cried, Chu Tao couldn't help but cry too. The two held hands and sobbed softly to each other.

The next morning, someone hurriedly entered Aiyuan Garden.

While leading Cheng Huaizhu, Yun Sheng told her about Xue Chan's reactions to the trivial matters that had happened recently.

When the two arrived at the door, they saw Chu Tao and the others blocking the way.

Yun Sheng quickly walked up the stone steps and asked her, "What's wrong?"

Chu Tao turned her face and frowned: "The door can't be opened, it's locked from the inside."

Yun Sheng then asked, "Where are the windows?"

Yingyue said, "They're all locked from the inside."

Yun Sheng stepped forward and knocked on the door: "Miss! Miss! Miss!"

However, the doors and windows were tightly shut, and no one answered.

Fearing that something might happen to Xue Chan inside, they hurriedly ran to find someone.

"Make way," Cheng Huaizhu pushed them aside and took two steps back.

"Bang!"

She kicked the door open.

Cheng Huaizhu immediately entered the room, but Xue Chan was nowhere to be found on the bed or couch. She quickly searched around, went around the screen, and saw someone slumped down beside the desk.

She rested one hand on the edge of the desk, her head bowed low, while her other hand gripped the pen tightly on the ground. A half-drawn longsword lay across her knees as she slumped to the floor.

Scattered around were countless sheets of paper. Without exception, each one had only been partially drawn on before being scribbled over and discarded on the ground.

Cheng Huaizhu held back her tears and slowly approached her.

Xue Chan slowly raised her pale and tired face, and smiled when she saw her.

"It's you, Huaizhu."

Cheng Huaizhu walked to her side, knelt down, and carefully looked at the knife.

"Are you afraid I'll kill myself?" Xue Chan sheathed her sword and smiled gently.

"But I won't seek death, nor will I die for him."

Her face was pale, her hair disheveled, yet her eyes were resolute, and she even smiled gently when she saw him.

Tears welled up in Cheng Huaizhu's eyes, and she rushed over to hug her tightly: "I'm here, I'm here, I'll stay with you."

Xue Chan reached out and hugged her back, and the two sat on the cold ground, embracing each other.

Her voice was soft and gentle: "Huaizhu, do you know? Ever since I can remember, I've been holding a paintbrush. I've always felt that God brought me into this world so that I could create masterpieces. All these years, and even today, I still feel that way. Huaizhu, I was born to paint, and I will only die because of painting."

Xue Chan's expression began to change; she smiled and frowned at the same time. She was both clear-headed and confused.

"But I..."

"I can't draw anymore."

She herself didn't know how to face it, or where to go.

There was no road; she had nowhere to go.

"Huaizhu" Xue Chan stepped out of her embrace and leaned forward to look at Cheng Huaizhu. Her eyes were first filled with confusion, then she smiled, but as she smiled, tears streamed down her cheeks.

"What should we do?"

Xue Chan tugged at her sleeve, gazing at her intently, staring into the distance.

Cheng Huaizhu felt that this was a person trapped in the surging tide. She longed to live, longed to find a way out.

However, the night was vast and the rivers were wide and turbulent. She could neither see nor find anything, and could only struggle against the wind and rain in her lone boat.

Perhaps it was Cheng Huaizhu's silence that made her feel desperate, so she could only let go of the pen, lower her head, and cry helplessly against Cheng Huaizhu's shoulder.

"If I can no longer paint, then what am I? What is the meaning of my existence in this world?"

Cheng Huaizhu immediately cupped her face in her hands, her eyes brimming with tears, and earnestly said, "No! No!"

“You are not without anything. You still have your uncle, your mother, me, your parents, and your brother. You have relatives and friends. We have always been by your side. You are not without anything. We love you because of your existence, not because of anything else.”

"Whether you can draw or not, whether you can draw or not, I will always be your closest sister. We grew up together and are the closest of relatives in this world. No matter what you are like, I care about you. For me, as long as you are you, that is meaning."

She spoke a lot, quickly and urgently, as if afraid that Xue Chan wouldn't listen, and kept pulling her along, unwilling to let her fall into the tide.

However, Xue Chan just sat there blankly in front of her, tears falling one by one.

Cheng Huaizhu hurriedly took her hand and touched her face, crying as she said, "Touch me, look, I'm here, I'm here."

Xue Chan's face was already covered in tears, and she quietly closed her eyes.

Perhaps she felt useless; she couldn't help her, she couldn't help her at all. All she could do was cry and shed meaningless tears.

But she was so scared, she was really scared.

Cheng Huaizhu rushed over and hugged her, wailing, "Please don't do this... I beg you, please don't do this... I'm scared..."

Xue Chan felt extremely tired, but the girl holding her cried so pitifully and kept crying, which made her feel guilty and remorseful.

She wanted to say something to comfort her, like she always would, pinching her cheek and saying, "It's okay, everything will be alright."

However, when he opened his mouth, his throat was already severely blocked, so sore and swollen that even swallowing was difficult.

She was even a little out of breath, and after taking two deep breaths, she trembled as she tightly hugged Cheng Huaizhu.

The girl buried her face in her shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, yet still clutching her hand tightly. Xue Chan also wanted to cry, to have a good cry and let all her tears flow. But when she tried, all she felt was an endless bitterness.

There wasn't a single tear left.

The moon quietly fell before the stained-glass window, gently shining through the paper and casting a pale blue light on the ground.

Cheng Huaizhu sat on the edge of the bed, wearing a robe, and looked down at Xue Chan, who was sleeping soundly.

She was crying in Xue Chan's arms, but Xue Chan gently patted her back to comfort her. When Cheng Huaizhu calmed down and tried to look up, Xue Chan smiled with her eyes slightly lowered.

Cheng Huaizhu watched her collapse to the ground, exhausted, and did not smile again.

Yun Sheng hurriedly invited a doctor to come and see him.

Fortunately, she was just too tired and finally fell asleep.

Yu Niangzi and Zheng Tan came to see Xue Chan in the evening. They didn't say much, but asked Cheng Huaizhu to ask her to keep Xue Chan company.

When the sun went down, they all left.

Everyone has their own tears to shed and their own days to live.

The intermittent sound of the zither drifted through the night, making the music sound even more melancholic and the long night even more desolate.