Wrong Carriage, Right Groom 4

Snowy night.

Ten years ago, someone gave me a cage on a snowy night like this. Ten years later, someone else added a lock to that cage on the same snowy night.

"Xiao Yue? Xiao Yue!" My senior brother and Yao Yunye pulled me away from Yue Yan, who was no longer human, and I had now riddled him with holes.

Seeing that I was still trying to break free, my senior brother raised his eyebrows and slapped me across the face, shouting, "What are you trying to do, stabbing someone like this!"

My voice was louder and clearer than his: "I want Senior Sister Yao alive! I want Song Yao to wake up!"

"..." The senior brother's breathing trembled, "Hopeless, hopeless!"

He forcibly pulled me over, while dragging the still-shaken Fuxiao with his other hand. Yao Yunye carried the unconscious Song Yao on his back and dragged the dying Yueyan along with him. The four of them hurried towards Kaifeng City. After receiving the help of the sect disciples, they handed the criminals over to them before heading to their respective residences.

Back at the camp, I knelt under the familiar red and yellow oil-paper umbrella. My senior brother asked sternly, "Do you know your mistake?"

"I don't know."

Say it again!

"I don't know!"

"Fine, fine, you've got guts." The senior brother was so angry that his teeth itched. He pulled out his dart rope from his waist and raised his hand as if to strike.

I closed my eyes, but the expected pain did not come.

With a loud "crack," the senior brother's rope dart fell heavily to the ground, kicking up dust all over the courtyard. The other disciples had never seen their senior brother lose his temper like this with a fellow disciple, and they all hid away, too afraid to approach.

He locked me in the room and told me to reflect on my actions.

...

For three nights in a row, I couldn't fall asleep. During that time, I tried to get out by means including but not limited to kicking down the door and stealing the key, but how could my senior brother, who had watched me grow up, not understand what I was thinking? So my methods didn't work at all.

I huddled in a corner in despair, and later I couldn't even eat properly.

Seeing the white rice, I don't think of rice paddies, but rather of the dark, blizzard-swept night when the first senior disciple of the Nine Streams Sect died saving me. Seeing the pastries, I picture Song Yao's gentle face...

"Ugh—" I vomited so badly that I chased away my junior brother who came to deliver the food.

After three days of not eating, drinking, or sleeping, my body had reached its limit, and I could only force myself to keep my eyes wide open so that I wouldn't look too disheveled.

By the fourth day, I was no longer able to think clearly. I was in a daze, my eyelids were so heavy, but I just couldn't fall asleep.

In a daze, I heard people talking in the courtyard.

I closed my eyes groggily, and then groggily opened them again, and a gentle face appeared before me.

When I first saw the person who came, I thought I was dreaming, so I closed my eyes again and silently counted down "three, two, one".

But when he opened his eyes again, he was still there.

I opened my mouth, but it was no use. Having not eaten or drunk anything for days, I couldn't even make a simple sound.

Song Yao reached out, seemingly wanting to touch my cheek.

I silently turned my face to the side, not wanting to, and not daring to, look into his eyes.

An eerie silence filled the room. The first to break the silence was Song Yao, who sat down next to me and rested his head on my shoulder without saying a word.

"...What are you doing?"

I'm tired.

Are we that close?

"Hmm... a marital relationship?"

I gave a self-deprecating smile and sighed, "Just playing along."

"..."

Song Yao remained silent for a moment, but the weight on his shoulders did not move. His breath gently brushed against my neck, carrying a hint of the bitterness of herbs, and... a trace of indescribable weariness.

“It’s all an act,” he said in a low voice, muffled by my clothes, “but I’m worried that you’re real.”

My heart skipped a beat, as if I had been struck hard by something. The tension, suspicion, anger, and the chilling fear brought on by that snowy night of the past few days seemed to crumble before this seemingly casual remark.

"I am ultimately different from her."

"I know."

“I am not what you call ‘gentle and considerate’, much less ‘understanding’.”

"I know."

"I'm not some kind of righteous person."

"Um?"

He looked up, his gaze sweeping over my face, and said with certainty, "You are."

"You're more confident than me?"

"Um."

……never mind.

I remembered the knife wound he had suffered, and my lingering fear made my sluggish brain unable to control my body's subconscious reaction. I pulled down his shirt, then slipped my hand inside Song Yao's undershirt, feeling downwards based on my memory.

He froze for a moment. I thought my hand was too cold for him, and a wave of guilt washed over me. Just as I was about to pull my hand back, he pressed it back down.

Now I was stuck, unsure whether to keep touching it or pull my hand away. So I just stood there, bewildered, and asked, "Does it hurt?"

“It’s alright now,” Song Yao said, her eyes crinkling with a smile. “Anyway, I’m not afraid of dying—ouch, your hands are so cold…”

"My senior brother is right, you Tianquan people are all stubborn fools!" I gritted my teeth and said angrily, "You just had to take this knife for me!" My voice was choked with sobs that I didn't even realize it myself. For a moment, I couldn't tell whether I was saying this to Song Yao or to my senior sister who fell in front of me ten years ago.

Song Yao did not answer immediately. He pressed his hand on the back of my hand with a little force, his palm burning hot, almost scorching my cold skin.

“I also want to know why I did this.” He was silent for a long time before he said in a low voice, “You are not the sickly ‘Xiaoyue’, but I… don’t want to see you get hurt.”

"..." I was at my wit's end. The fear and lingering dread of the past few days, along with the overwhelming emotions stirred up by his words, could no longer be contained. Tears streamed down my face without warning, dripping into his hair.

I tried to pull my hand away, but he held it down even tighter. "Don't move," he said in a hoarse voice, "...let me lean on you for a moment. Just a moment."

...

I don't remember when I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up, a man wearing Qingxi school uniform was sitting next to me. Song Yao's mannerisms were very similar to his.

Seeing that I was awake, the man put away his medical needles, pursed his lips slightly, and his eyes were full of smiles.

His smile is somewhat similar to Song Yao's.

"My name is Song Zhiqing, and I am Yao's senior brother."

This...this isn't right, is it?

Is Qingxi disciple the senior brother of Tianquan disciple?

In response to my question, Song Zhiqing explained, "My father is from Qingxi and my mother is from Tianquan. I travel back and forth between the two sects' headquarters every month."

All right.

He told me that Yueyan had been rescued, and that she and Fuxiao were currently imprisoned in the underground dungeon of Kaifeng Prefecture.

"Just who are they?"

Song Zhiqing: "They were all from Jiangnan Kingdom and grew up together. A plague once broke out in Jiangnan Kingdom, and all those infected with the disease would experience symptoms such as skin ulceration and peeling. At that time, the nobles of Jiangnan Kingdom who were infected received timely treatment and the disease was contained, but the lower classes were left unattended. In order to save Yueyan, who was infected in the plague, Fuxiao devoted himself to studying medicine and came to the Great Song Dynasty to find ancient books that recorded the relevant symptoms. ... But unfortunately, he searched through all the medical books in the world and found very little information. Yueyan was on the verge of death and had no choice but to undergo a skin transplant."

“How cunning, isn’t it? They made us believe they’d never met based on just a few letters.”

They were both pitiful, yet also hateful.

Later, he told me that the sedan chair we stopped had actually been replaced by Tianquan earlier. As he spoke, he laughed, "Two groups of people acting for justice unintentionally caused trouble for each other. But... thankfully, the outcome was good."

...

After Song Zhiqing left, I sat alone in my room for a long time, lost in thought.

Outside, the sky was bright and the snow had stopped.

As soon as I stepped outside, I was startled by the blinding white light. The footprints on the ground were crisscrossed, with one mark being particularly clear, leading straight to the old locust tree outside the courtyard.

Song Yao was standing there, looking up at the shimmering white snow piled up on the branches. He had changed back into the crisp blue robes he wore at Tianquan Sect, the fur collar framing his chin, his profile clear and serene in the snowy light. Hearing the door open, he turned around, his gaze meeting mine in mid-air.

There was no feigned shyness, nor any scrutinizing interest, only a calm, even somewhat cautious, exploration.

I instinctively tried to avoid that gaze, but my feet seemed rooted to the spot. My senior brother suddenly appeared from somewhere, arms crossed, looked at me, then at Song Yao, and finally snorted as if to say hello. Then, very "sensibly," he strolled away, leaving the two of us in a quiet snowfield.

In the end, Song Yao came over first. The snow crunched softly under his feet.

"Are you feeling... better?" he asked, his voice lower than usual, as if afraid of disturbing something.

"I won't die," I answered curtly, my gaze falling on his abdomen, where a dagger had once been stuck. "And you?"

He looked down at it, then smiled, revealing a familiar shyness: "It's just a superficial wound. Senior Brother Zhiqing's medical skills are excellent. But you..." He paused, "I heard you haven't been eating or resting properly for the past few days."

"It's none of your business." I turned my head and looked at the snow-covered eaves in the distance. "Are all the people from Tianquan so nosy?"

Especially those who love to meddle in my business. I didn't say these words out loud, but they rolled around in my mind, carrying a kind of irritation that I couldn't quite explain.

Song Yao didn't respond to my question, but silently took out a small paper packet from her pocket and handed it to me. A familiar, sweet fragrance wafted out.

"...Flower cakes?" I raised an eyebrow. "Again? Didn't you make me sick of how sweet they were last time?"

His cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn't pull his hand back: "I...I reduced the frosting. Besides, you've vomited so many times, your stomach is empty, you need to eat something to line it."

He stubbornly held up the pancake, his eyes as clear as freshly fallen snow. I glared at him, and he looked back at me. After a long while, I almost viciously snatched the pancake away, broke off a small piece, and stuffed it into my mouth.

...It seems less sweet now. The flaky pastry is still layered and distinct, and the filling has just the right amount of floral fragrance and a hint of sweetness.

I kept eating my pancake without looking at him. He didn't say anything either, just stood quietly beside me.

After finishing the pancake, my stomach felt much better, and even the nameless anger in my heart seemed to have dissipated somewhat. I patted the crumbs off my hands and finally looked at him properly: "So, what's next? What are you Tianquan planning to do? Go back to your sect to report?"

"Senior Brother Yao has already gone back to report the details. I... will stay for now." Song Yao looked at me and said, "The follow-up matters in Kaifeng Prefecture still need to be handed over between the Nine Streams Sect and our Tianquan. Moreover..."

He paused, seemingly considering his words.

"And what?"

"Moreover, although the 'Skin-Peeling Master' case is closed, there may be deeper secrets regarding the origin of the skin-changing evil magic used by Dawn and the truth behind the plague in Jiangnan Kingdom. This matter concerns both countries and cannot be resolved simply by capturing the perpetrators." His tone became serious, and the sharp glint of a Tianquan disciple shone in his usually gentle eyes. "The Nine Streams Sect is well-informed, and Tianquan may need to rely on them in some way. Similarly, if the Nine Streams Sect needs to investigate clues related to Jiangnan Kingdom, Tianquan can also assist."

He spoke in a grand and logical manner, completely in a businesslike tone.

I scoffed, "That sounds nice, but I knew in my heart that he was telling the truth. What lies behind Dawn and Nightmare is far more than just a simple series of murders."

“And…” He suddenly hesitated again, the sharpness he had shown earlier vanished, his eyes darted around and landed on my fingers, which might have been greasy from eating the pancake, and the blush on my ears crept back in. “…I promised that if I made you angry, I would make you some snacks.”

I:"……"

He looked up, his gaze almost foolishly sincere: "The flower cakes last time were too sweet, it was my fault. Next time... next time I'll try making something savory? Or osmanthus cake? Maybe almond shortbread..."

Looking at him like this, I suddenly remembered how his senior brother teased him in the private room of the restaurant, and how his face instantly turned bright red. I remembered the way he turned away without hesitation when he took the knife for me. I remembered his burning palm pressing on the back of my hand when I was breaking down, and the words muffled in his clothes, "The act is fake, but my worry for you is real."

A complex mix of emotions welled up inside me, stuck in my throat, and I couldn't tell if it was anger, shame, or something else entirely.

“Song Yao,” I interrupted him.

"Um?"

“You talk too much,” I said expressionlessly. “Besides, who wants to keep eating your snacks?”

He paused for a moment, his eyes visibly dimming for a instant, like stars obscured by clouds.

I turned around and walked in the direction my senior brother had disappeared, the snow crunching once more. After a few steps, I stopped, without looking back.

"...Almond shortbread is too oily, and osmanthus cake is barely edible."

There was a moment of silence behind me, then his voice, noticeably lighter and more cheerful, filled with undisguised joy:

"Okay! I'll make osmanthus cake next time!"

The post-snow sunlight pierced through the thin clouds, falling on the pristine white snow and reflecting dappled rays. The air was cold and crisp.

I took a deep breath, and felt that the cold wind seemed to have carried away some of the pent-up frustration in my chest.

The trouble is far from over.

But at least for now, the wind and snow have temporarily stopped.

In the distance, my senior brother was giving instructions to several disciples of the Nine Streams Sect. When he saw me approaching and then glanced at Song Yao not far behind me, he raised an eyebrow and gave me a smug look that said, "I knew it."

I ignored him and walked straight past him.

"Finished talking?" the senior asked in a low voice, winking at him.

"Let's get down to business." I said sternly. "Regarding the follow-up investigation, Tianquan has expressed its willingness to cooperate."

My senior brother chuckled, "Cooperation? I think it's some kind of clingy pest trying to stick to me." He patted my shoulder, his tone suddenly becoming more serious, "Fine. More helpers are always better than more enemies. Besides, this kid..." He glanced at Song Yao, who was listening intently to the Nine Streams Sect disciples, and clicked his tongue, "Not bad skills, and his brain... well, at least not bad, it's just that the way he looks at you is a bit silly."

I couldn't take it anymore and elbowed him.

The eldest brother winced in pain and dodged away, then burst into laughter.

The case uncovered by the skinning criminals has many unspeakable truths behind it.

The truth is like a seed buried deep; someone has to dig it up through the ice and snow before it can see the light of day.

Whether what lies beneath is good or evil, despair or a glimmer of light.

I am not afraid of difficulties, but—

"Ouch, be gentle, it hurts..."

I raised my eyelids and glared at the person who spoke. "Didn't you say you would take care of yourself? Take it." But the person's movements were still a bit lighter. I was indignant. His reckless nature was really annoying.

Song Yao pouted, "What kind of wife is this fierce?"

"Not satisfied?" I sneered. "If you're not satisfied, you can find someone else."

"No. I'm not looking." Song Yao shook her head, and with her other intact hand, she reached out to my chest and swirled it around my heart.

I couldn't take it anymore, and since my hands were full, I opened my mouth and bit his lips.

Song Yao let go of my hand in pain, and looked at me with a hint of accusation in her eyes.

...He always throws little tantrums in front of me.

Seeing this, I couldn't maintain my tough stance any longer, so I softened my voice and said, "Stop making a fuss. Bandage the wound and do whatever you want."

What I mean is, I wouldn't mind if he kept jumping around after the medicine was applied, but obviously someone misunderstood.

"Is it okay up there too?"

"roll."

The decision to be on top during our first sexual encounter was quite inexplicable. I said I didn't want to be on top, and he said, "Let's have a drinking contest. Whoever drinks themselves out first will be the one to be taken."

Of course, I won. I never expected that Song Yao, who grew up in Tianquan, would be a lightweight drinker.

A gentleman keeps his word and honors his bet; he indeed "let me take what I wanted."

However, when his senior brother Yao found out about this, he was very unhappy. He poked Song Yao's forehead and said with a look of disappointment, "You, you, why aren't you like me!"

He probably felt that I had "bullied" his precious junior brother, and from then on, Yao Yunye looked at me with disdain, as if I had stolen his money. Of course, later I did indeed practice the essential course of a low-class disciple, taking the opportunity to snatch a money bag every time we passed each other.

Whenever Song Yao returned to the Tianquan garrison to find Yao Yunye, he would always snort at her, "What, didn't your young lady come along?"

...You're the young lady.

(End of text)