Chapter 29: Farewell is approaching, and I am reluctant to leave
The last trace of the cold poison in his body was completely dispelled with the morning's breathing. Su Qinghan could feel that his limbs and bones had returned to their peak state. In fact, because of the internal energy that Chen Ye had spared no expense that night, the true energy of the "Canglang Jue" in his dantian had become more rounded and pure.
She recovered.
This was a result she had longed for, meaning she could pick up her sword again and embark on the thorny road of revenge for her father.
But at this moment, this thought not only did not bring her the slightest joy, but instead was like a cold and heavy stone, pressing down on her heart, making it almost impossible for her to breathe.
She sat on the wooden steps under the porch, looking at the figure in the yard who was preparing lunch.
Chen Ye was still wearing his comfortable coarse linen clothes, his sleeves rolled up high, revealing his strong, well-defined forearms. He was squatting by the well, washing the vegetables he had just picked from the small backyard vegetable patch, one by one, with focused attention. His movements were not very skillful, even a little clumsy, and the splash of water from washing the vegetables landed several drops on his cheeks.
He didn't wipe it off, but continued with the work in his hands without noticing.
The sun was shining brightly, filtering through the branches of the old locust tree in the courtyard, casting a dappled shadow on him. A gentle breeze swayed the shadows, making him seem unreal, as if he were in a warm dream from which he could awaken at any moment.
Su Qinghan just watched quietly.
She watched him wash the vegetables and then chop wood. He casually placed the short sword, known as "Setsuna," the weapon that had claimed countless lives. In his hand was an ordinary axe for chopping wood. The dull, rhythmic "bang bang" of the axe's rise and fall echoed through the quiet courtyard.
In the past, this sound was the first background sound she heard after waking up every day. Like the morning bell and evening drum, it made her feel an unprecedented peace of mind.
But today, every sound was like a heavy hammer hitting her heart.
Again and again, reminding her.
It's time to go.
Su Qinghan's fingertips curled up unconsciously and clasped tightly to the wooden steps beneath him.
She has to leave.
Her father's wronged soul had not yet rested in peace, and the deep hatred for him weighed on her shoulders like a mountain. She could not, and should not, indulge in this fleeting warmth that did not belong to her.
This small courtyard is a paradise, a safe haven where she can temporarily drop all her disguises and defenses. But she is ultimately a ship of revenge that must sail into the storm, and this is not her destination.
She and he were not on the same path from the beginning.
He is an assassin from Tianji Pavilion and lives in the deepest darkness.
And she is the master detective of the Six Gates, and what she seeks in her life is a bright and clear world and clear laws.
Their identities had destined an unbridgeable abyss to lie between them. The warm intercourse they had shared these past few days was nothing more than a cruel joke played by fate, a brief, accidental encounter between two people walking on opposite sides of a precipice.
Reason told her all this over and over again in the coldest and clearest language.
But what about emotions?
When she watched the man put down the axe, wipe the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, and then turn and walk into the kitchen that was slightly blackened by the smoke from his own stove; when the familiar aroma of rice, with a slight smell of burnt food, wafted out from the kitchen again...
The words of farewell were like lead, stuck heavily in her throat, and she couldn't say them.
She was scared.
She was afraid that once she said the words "I'm leaving", all the vivid and warm colors in the courtyard would fade away in an instant and turn back into a cold gray.
She was afraid that because of her words, those calm eyes would be covered with the familiar layer of coldness that kept people away when she first met them.
She feared even more that once she stepped out of this courtyard, endless pursuits, calculations, conspiracies, and murder awaited her. She would once again become the lonely "Fei Yue," the hateful Su Qinghan. Who would then, while she was injured and feverish, guard her all night, regardless of the cost? Who would clumsily prepare a bowl of steaming, though slightly burnt, noodle soup for her?
This warmth was like the gentlest poison. She knew she shouldn't indulge in it, but it had already penetrated her bones and was hard to let go.
The lunch was eaten in silence and depression.
On the dinner table, there were still two dishes and one soup, it couldn’t be simpler.
After these days of practice, Shen Ye's cooking skills have made great progress. At least, the dishes are no longer black, and the rice is fully cooked.
He silently served Su Qinghan a bowl of rice and placed it in front of her. Then, he picked up a piece of food with his chopsticks and placed it in her bowl. He said nothing during the whole process, but his movements were natural, as if he had done it a thousand times before.
Su Qinghan lowered his head and ate his meal in small bites, which tasted like chewing wax.
She raised her head several times, wanting to look at him and speak, but when her eyes met his still slightly pale face, all the words were swallowed back.
She wanted to say: Thank you for saving me.
She wanted to say: Is your injury better?
She wanted to say: I'm leaving.
But in the end, she said nothing.
She simply ate the food in the bowl cleanly, because she knew that this might be the last peaceful lunch between them.
After dinner, Shen Ye quietly cleared the dishes. Su Qinghan did not sit as usual, but stood up and wanted to help.
"I'll do it." Chen Ye stretched out his hand and stopped her, his voice still in that low and brief tone.
His fingertips accidentally brushed the back of her hand.
Su Qinghan's body trembled slightly as if he had been electrocuted.
The familiar, cold feeling coming from deep within his body came back to her again. But this time, she no longer felt danger or alienation, but a loneliness that distressed her.
She withdrew her hand and looked at his back as he walked into the kitchen carrying the dishes. Her eyes couldn't help but turn slightly red.
This man is always like this.
Doing the most gentle things with the most indifferent attitude.
He hid all his kindness and concern beneath his taciturn exterior, never seeking credit or asking for anything in return.
In the afternoon, Su Qinghan returned to his room and began to pack his already meager luggage.
Her movements were very slow.
She folded and unfolded the nightgown that was stained with blood and then washed by him, unfolded and folded it again, back and forth, as if she would never be able to put it into the bag.
She held the special candle he used for lighting in her hand and stroked it for a long time. The warmth of his fingertips still lingered on the candle.
In the corner, she still had the wooden sword she practiced with. Several deep scratches were left on the blade by his short sword, "Setsuna." Those were the marks left by him when he and she exchanged blows.
This small room is full of his traces.
These marks, which had brought her peace of mind every day in the past, had now transformed into the finest, sharpest needles, densely packed together, piercing her heart.
She knew she couldn't delay any longer.
With every day I stay, the reluctance to leave deepens.
Every time I look at him, the pain of separation becomes heavier.
She took a deep breath and finally made up her mind.
She walked out of the room and saw Chen Ye sitting on a stone bench in the yard, wiping his short sword "Momentary".
The afterglow of the setting sun stretched his figure very far. His focused expression and the piety with which he wiped the blade made it seem as if what he held was not a sword but a sacred relic.
"Momentary Beauty" is a sword technique created solely for killing people.
How many people's blood has this sword drunk? Does it also include...
A terrible thought flashed through Su Qinghan's mind, but she immediately cut it off.
No, don't think about it.
She walked over to him and stood still.
Shen Ye noticed her arrival, but he didn't stop wiping. He didn't look up, but just asked calmly, "What's going on?"
Su Qinghan's lips moved, but the words "I'm leaving" that he had practiced countless times seemed to be under a spell and were stuck in his throat again.
She looked at him, at his downcast eyes, at his focused expression, at the dagger in his hand that shone with a cold light.
She suddenly realized that she knew almost nothing about this man.
She didn't know his real name, and the name "Chen Ye" was probably just a code name.
She didn't know where he came from or what his past was.
She also didn't know why he chose to become an assassin and embark on this path of no return.
And she was about to leave.
Perhaps, we will never meet again in this life.
A huge, indescribable sadness, like a tide, instantly overwhelmed her.
In the end, she still didn't speak.
She just sat down quietly on the stone bench opposite him, accompanying him and feeling this last, quiet evening together.
And Shen Ye finally noticed that something was wrong with her.
He had felt it since lunch.
She became more silent than before, and in her clear eyes, there was always a hint of unrelieved sorrow that he couldn't understand, but could feel. The way she looked at him was no longer the same as before, with inquiry, vigilance, or the occasional, fleeting smile.
It was a look... filled with nostalgia and reluctance.
As a top assassin, he has a beast-like intuition about the changes in people's hearts.
He knew she was leaving.
This thought arose in his mind, without bringing any surprise, only an expected, heavy sense of loss.
The movements of his hands slowed down involuntarily.
The soft cloth used to wipe the sword seemed to weigh a thousand pounds between his fingers.
He knew that this day would come sooner or later.
Her wounds would eventually heal. A woman as proud and resilient as she was, carrying a deep blood feud, could never remain in this nameless courtyard forever.
He knew it from the beginning.
He just didn't expect that this day would come so soon.
Or maybe, it wasn't that it came too fast, but that he was... greedy.
He became addicted to seeing her practicing sword in the yard every morning.
He became addicted to the feeling of sitting across from someone while eating.
He fell in love with the faint smile she would occasionally reveal because of his clumsy actions, which was enough to make his heart skip a beat.
These were experiences he had never had in the past twenty years of his life.
It's like a person who has been walking in darkness for years and suddenly sees a ray of sunshine. He knows that he does not belong to the light, but he still can't help but want to get closer, want to reach out and touch the warmth.
This stolen time will eventually come to an end.
The Lightless Heart Sutra slowly circulated within his body, attempting to calm the unfamiliar, turbulent emotions within him.
But for the first time, he discovered that this martial art that he had practiced for more than ten years and had long been integrated with him was unable to suppress the surging waves in his heart.
It was a sour, dull feeling that made him want to throw away the dagger in his hand and do something to retain it.
For the first time, he felt the emotion of "reluctance" so clearly.
He stopped all his movements, slowly raised his head, and met Su Qinghan's gaze.
Their eyes met.
They saw the same thing in each other's eyes.
It is the attachment to this warm time, the sadness for the impending separation, and the feeling that is buried deep in the heart but cannot be expressed in words.
The setting sun completely sank into the horizon.
Night begins to fall.
The last bit of warmth is about to be swallowed up by darkness.
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