Breaking the Formation (Part Two)

"I was originally a scholar, but I was filled with anger and deserved to be devoted to the revolution."

With bandits causing chaos in the world, how can we stand idly by and wait to die?

With lofty ambitions, I am like Mu Guiying; with turbulent undercurrents, my heart is like Feng Wanzhen.

But even he couldn't resist his love for his children, and he suffered a terrible, unspoken pain.

Alas, the beautiful scenery of Jin Garden is written here, and even a mud swallow under the old eaves tells me its heartfelt thoughts.

All I have to do is drink this bowl of bitter coptis and let it simmer for seven days and seven nights to bring forth those heartless tears.

That fleeting, smoke-like affection—I suddenly tossed it behind my neck.

—To the tune of "Breaking the Formation"—Words of Wishes (A Cherish This Heart)

High clouds and rosy hues filled the sky, and the lingering melody seemed to echo faintly through the streets that had been washed clean by a torrential downpour all night.

With each breath, the distinct, clean particles and scents in the air are clearly discernible.

This is a very auspicious day and time.

However, this auspicious day was not for marriage or for drinking and revelry, but for burying Yuan Siyuan, the Third Master, leaving his bloodied body forever in that gloomy, thick mud.

The wooden coffin rattled with the clanging of metal buttons against the wall. Several Minkou soldiers carrying the coffin were panting heavily in the sweltering morning heat. A layer of pale yellow, oily sweat covered their temples, leaving black stains on the brim of their hats.

They trudged into the gullies on the earthen slope, their long imprints like nails piercing their minds, causing a trembling, throbbing pain.

Xici followed silently behind them, a black domed hat with an elegant brim pressing down on her head. A piece of smoky gray veil with peony trim, as smooth and delicate as skin, hung down from the brim of the hat, completely obscuring most of her face, revealing only her round, delicate chin and pale purple lips.

She followed the group of people silently, wearing a pair of dark-colored soft leather shoes. She twisted her ankle just as she started going uphill.

She followed the group of people.

Or perhaps she was following that dark red coffin.

Last night, Li Xiangyan held her in his arms, and they opened the window to enjoy the rare cool night breeze.

"I'll send a car to take you up the mountain tomorrow."

"No, I have to walk up myself."

"You've just recovered from your illness, so don't push yourself and cause long-term health problems."

She slowly turned halfway around in his arms, smiled gently, took the cigarette from his lips with one hand, put it between her fingers, and took a deep drag.

"I think it's better not to. We don't want to alert the Japanese; they're very interested in you." "Then it's up to you."

So Li Xiangyan had no choice but to let her go.

His rough, hot fingers caressed her skin inch by inch, the unspoken ambiguity like an archaeologist finally finding a precious relic from a previous dynasty. He asked in a muffled voice across her back, "Do those wounds still hurt these days?"

"A broken mirror can never be mended." His gaze towards her darkened, words failing him.

When she reached the top of the hill, the wind had turned from a light breeze to a strong one. She touched one side of her hat with her hand to stop it from running away and saw the deep pit that could only hold a wooden coffin.

The final resting place of a person's life is such a deep pit. You can't see it when you're alive, and when you die, you're "invited" in without any clarity or haste. Through the lush forest on the mountain, she slowly watched the Minkou soldiers place the coffin inside. Just as they were about to fill it with soil, she suddenly spoke up, "You guys have worked hard. Go have a smoke. Let me be alone with him for a while."

The group exchanged glances, and one of them said, "Miss Qiu, the commander has instructed that you be brought down the mountain as soon as possible."

"Excuse me, I only need a few minutes."

What is the boundary of "long"? If memories are long, then how long exactly? She carefully recalled her memories from joining the underground organization to the present, and suddenly felt that they had all become blurry, ambiguous, and no longer well-organized.

From the moment she first saw Li Xiangyan in that magnificent hall, she began to suffer from amnesia. But now, standing before Yuan Siyuan's tomb, looking at his coffin, she could remember more, such as his first words in the dimly lit organization room: "My name is Yuan Siyuan, and I want to give this nation freedom."

She heard he was the young master of a prominent family. She inwardly laughed at his enthusiasm; how could someone who couldn't even control his own destiny bring freedom to millions? Who would believe him? Who would see a future for him?

Those who constantly proclaimed their desire for freedom have already said their final goodnight. Only the cunning and realistic part remains, still floundering in the mire, mistaking the mud for spring water, staining its body.

"Third Master, sometimes I say you have a heavy responsibility to bear, but I think you're being a bit foolish. But don't worry anymore, I will give you freedom, and I will give this nation freedom as well."

"I've come to see you off today, and I will never come to see you again." She took a bunch of camellias from a white bag with gold trim and threw it on his coffin. Turning around, she said to the people waiting for her in the woods not far away, "That's enough."

People liken the land to the mother of life. All things are born here, and all things are buried here at the end. The sandalwood-brown soil covers the pit like a cotton quilt, covering it deeply and coldly, covering it fiercely. Love, hate, anger, infatuation, desire, loyalty, and wish—if covered, they all vanish into nothingness.

Xici silently followed the group towards the car parked at the top of the mountain, never looking back. When there was nothing to do while sitting in the car, all she could do was rest her chin on her hand and ponder. She took out a cigarette case from her bag, put it to her lips, and asked the person in the passenger seat, "Excuse me, could you light my cigarette?"

She brought her face close to a small cluster of fireflies, and the man stared at her eyes and brows, momentarily stunned. Even the most indifferent person would be moved by such beauty.

"Thank you." She chuckled, a crisp sound emanating from her cigarette butt.

For thousands of years, women under feudal oppression have revolved around men, offering either cold, sarcastic smiles or cloying, fawning ones. They were forced to fight for their right to live under a male-dominated world, even their laughter was not autonomous. Therefore, some women's smiles are seductive rather than beautiful; they are all forced, helpless smiles.

Her laughter, however, lacked any seductive undertones. She lived frankly and profoundly, and thus her laughter was alluring, enigmatic, and dry; it was a genuine laugh from the heart.

Rumors circulated among the Min Army troops that Commander Li had acquired a peerless beauty, comparable to Chen Yuanyuan, and kept her in his mansion. He was even willing to fight the Japanese for her. Today, having finally seen this legendary beauty, he was initially overwhelmed with emotion, but now, by the light of a small fire, he was easily stunned. The saying "a crown lost for a beauty" proved true; this was no mere rumor.

This beauty is like a drop of water mixed with silver threads falling into a painting, flowing into the paper with the soft brushstrokes of color, beautiful, beautiful to the bone.