Chapter 100: A Lifetime of Hatred, How Can It Be Repaid?
A small lamp.
A small lamp that flickers on and off, casting an unpredictable light.
It illuminated a small area of the room, the drifting warm yellow light having its own story, groping out the shadows of the table, the teapot, the porcelain vase... and calling out softly as a wisp of smoke, calling to the places it couldn't reach, that is, the wider darkness.
This is also a strange lamp.
The strangeness doesn't lie in the lamp itself. A lamp should be burned to prolong the day, just as people have things they want to do—this is the most natural order. The strangeness lies elsewhere. There is clearly no day to prolong now. If someone could lift the thick curtains covering the window, they would see the newly risen sun, its golden light streaming across the land. Who would choose to wrap themselves tightly in the early morning light, lighting only a dim little lamp?
He's undoubtedly a strange person.
Her fingers traced circles on the table, one after another, without stopping. She was using the act of drawing circles to represent something, as if that would stop her from trembling. As long as she remembered that she was doing this, she could be single-minded and focused. And if she didn't think, didn't ponder, then nothing would happen. She enjoyed the time in her own life alone, wanting only to be with her own reflection.
But there was no way to see her own shadow. The low-hanging lamp cast a continuous shadow, her shadow intertwined with the shadows of lifeless objects, not standing alone. Nor was she standing alone.
So people still came.
A gentle breeze swept in, and then a standing person entered, moving like a vibrant flower swaying in the wind. Upon closer inspection, she seemed to leave the breeze behind. She was unmovable, unwilling to ride the wind away, and even heaven and earth could not stop her.
The two sat down facing each other, and the room was silent for a moment. The person drawing the circle withdrew her finger, the circle under her finger was no longer neat, and the stroke went astray, her nail tapping on the teacup. She quickly withdrew her hand, pinching the thin layer of flesh behind her nail, and then scraped it repeatedly. The pain accumulated and grew, and she began to feel a sharp pain. Then she suddenly let go, her gaze falling to the floor, where she saw her own shadow entwined around the edge of the table.
She felt terrible; nothing had even happened yet, and she already felt terrible.
Is it pain in her heart, or pain in her flesh? Is it pain she felt after seeing her, or has she actually been in pain all along?
Before she could think, the person opposite her spoke the first words. Xie Huailing proactively poured her a cup of tea and said, "Princess, please have some tea."
The girl raised her head slightly, most of her face hidden in the dim light: "Thank you, Miss Xie. I wonder what brings you here to see me?"
Xie Huailing looked at her and said, "No rush, we can chat over tea. I didn't bring many attendants with me this time, so you can rest assured, Princess, I won't do anything."
"I thought Miss Xie and I had nothing to talk about." The girl spoke hastily, her resistance not in her eyes, but in her words. Her eyes were only dark, and dark swallowed everything.
“But if the princess doesn’t want to talk to me, she won’t return to the Prince of Nan’s residence so early, will she?” Xie Huailing pointed out the obvious, pushing the cup full of tea towards the girl with two fingers.
The rippling water reflected several blurry patches of color, and the girl was one of those indistinct shapes. She was neither clear nor bright; she looked at her obscure self, and a lingering sour and bitter taste lingered on her tongue, as if she had been stabbed somewhere.
She felt even worse, overwhelmed by the burden. She realized Xie Huailing's keen insight and hated having to be so bloody and naked: "...How much do you know?"
Not much. The Southern Prince's residence was too far away, and time was limited. Xie Huailing's only source of information was Gong Jiu, whom she knew about the young lady's life story. She then filled in the gaps manually through repeated interactions with her. But this didn't mean she had to admit it.
Xie Huailing, seemingly confident, uttered two words with a hint of pity: "Almost all of them."
The young woman forced a smile, her beautiful face momentarily collapsing, yet she didn't fall: "I didn't know the Golden Wind and Fine Rain Pavilion had such great capabilities. So what is it that you haven't investigated? Why did you come to me?"
“Princess, you’ve lived in the Prince’s mansion for so long, there are many things you don’t know.” Xie Huailing watched her groping the edge of the teacup, her eyes drooping. “Besides, Princess, you’re giving Jin Feng Xi Yu Lou too much credit. We’re not that capable. Even if we knew everything, we would still have some questions that we can’t understand and would have to ask Princess in person.”
"For example, why did the princess have to do these things?"
The girl's hand trembled, and it was unclear which matter she was asking about. Her silence didn't matter; Xie Huailing continued, "I once said that if I were the princess, I wouldn't kill someone who suddenly entered the game. Today I can also say that if I were the princess, I wouldn't kill—"
“It’s none of your business,” she said.
The girl repeated herself, her voice much lower the second time: "Miss Xie, this has nothing to do with you."
A bloodstain appeared at the base of her fingernail. She blinked, her eyes like those of a dying butterfly, the flapping of its wings weak and feeble: "What right do you have to speak like that? You are not me. If I hadn't done these things, I would have died long ago, Miss Xie... what right do you have?"
A weak voice, and it was indeed true. The nights in the Prince's mansion were too long, her tormented childhood too long. Even if she cried and made a fuss, she couldn't see a glimmer of light. Was it because she looked too much like her mother that she was wrong, or was it because she was born into the wrong family that she was wrong? She didn't understand any of it. With the blood of royalty flowing in her veins, she was born inferior. Leftovers and humiliation were what she was meant to endure. She was afraid of everything, and everyone bullied her.
Similarly, she was precocious, and this precocity also harmed her. In her precocious years, she resented everyone, even the woman who gave birth to her when she was young. Why did she bring her into this world? Why was her status so lowly? Why was she so happy when someone helped her get even a little something? She hated everything, yet she still couldn't breathe. The young child couldn't sleep soundly in her dreams. In the darkness, she desperately opened her eyes and saw the woman's corpse.
She hanged herself in the house, and only then did the child realize that she seemed to have gone mad, something that had happened in the last few days.
Then the child stared blankly for a whole night. When dawn broke the next day, she understood that she would henceforth carry two portions of hatred and two portions of fear, and she had to live on.
“I have to do these things, I don’t care who I kill.” The girl spoke softly, and when she was pressed to this point, she could no longer pretend in front of Xie Huailing. “Sisters…whether they are older sisters or others, I have no guilt. They should have known this day would come.”
"That's not what I meant," Xie Huailing said after listening quietly to her.
She caught her shifty gaze and said bluntly, "What I'm saying is, if I were a princess, I wouldn't have killed so few."
Seeing her roll her eyes again, Xie Huailing continued, "Your Highness knows what I mean. This is what I really want to ask: 'Why did you do all this?' Aren't there people in the Prince's mansion who deserve to die even more?"
"What are you going to do?" The girl looked up suddenly, her heart aching, and she felt a surge of fear.
Xie Huailing remained unmoved and asked her, "Could it be that the princess alone does not hate them?"
"What are you going to do?" the girl asked again in despair. She was suddenly even more afraid—her first reaction was fear, and she dared not listen to what she was going to say next, not to hear a single word that followed.
She had a premonition; her hands clenched into fists, and she could hear her own heart pounding. The light was too dim, and her shadow swayed indistinctly, as if something else was buried within the shadow cast by the light, like blood beneath flesh, and a heart beneath the blood—a heart that holds all of a person's thoughts.
Xie Huailing, gentle as a spring breeze, invited me calmly: "Princess, why don't you join me in this scheme instead of doing all this? In truth, over the past month, you haven't lost to me. You could have chosen not to do it. Who made you come? Who made you afraid to go back? Who wanted your help and treated you this way? Who is harming you all this time?"
Her fingernails dug into her flesh, forcing back her trembling. The girl gritted her teeth, and many, many years later, she seemed to still see that vertical shadow before her, and blood flowing from the tiny wound behind her fingernail.
Swallow it all, swallow it all. The girl replied, "I won't conspire with you, I won't."
She swallowed her fear, as if this was the only emotion in her body: "I've climbed this ladder step by step to get to where I am today, I've schemed and plotted to get this position as a princess, so I can't afford to fall even once. What you say has no effect on me. I'm not the person I used to be, and I never want to be that person again. Father and brother, father and brother..."
The girl seemed unsure of what to say, pausing for a moment: "What's wrong with doing things for them? If I do something more in a few years, I can never go back to the way things were before. That day will come. It will, it will always come, and I..."
Xie Huailing slammed his fist on the table.
The girl's words abruptly ended as she walked up.
Xie Huailing looked up, unaffected by her emotions, and saw through her perfectly: "Why are you deceiving yourself, Princess? You said that things will never go back to the way they were before. I only have one question for you."
Xie Huailing tapped the table again, capturing her gaze and making full contact with her eyes: "What is your name?"
The girl froze; she couldn't breathe.
"You've done so much for them, lived for so many years, and I've searched high and low, yet I still don't know your name."
"Princess, what is your name?"
Xie Huailing asked her.
Such a simple question, one that anyone could answer without thinking. But the girl clutched her neck; her neck, which she could never straighten, was terribly pale, and it was no use—she couldn't breathe.
Everything she had just said was shattered by this simple question. She couldn't breathe; her mouth was still open, but it was just a gesture. Years of pent-up pain finally broke free from the shackles of fear, creeping from her heart into her blood. She grabbed her own neck, choking with hatred, choking with all her might.
But hatred still crept out. Pain never disappears. Things that you are too afraid of and think you can accept or endure only become more overwhelming when they start to darken before your eyes. Just like the vertical shadow that hovers in front of her eyes has always been there. She will remember the way her mother hanged herself for all eternity.
Her fingers trembled, went limp, and she released herself from the clothes clutching her chest. The girl murmured, "...Zhao Mengyun."
She said, "My name is Zhao Mengyun."
Xie Huailing nodded, took the lamp on the table in his hand, and then placed it on the ground to the side. The shadow moved with the lamp, without overlapping, and the complete shadow lay on the ground, escaping the contact of the inanimate object.
“‘Dreaming of the clouds and mountains, my heart is like a deer; my soul flies through boiling water and fire, my life is like a chicken’—judging only the first half of the poem, it is a rare and good name.”
Only the teapot and cups remained on the table. Xie Huailing propped herself up and leaned forward. Her fingers, hidden in her sleeve, hooked around Zhao Mengyun's still-bleeding finger, and she gently touched the wound. The deliberate warmth she had prepared made Zhao Mengyun remain motionless as her hand was held.
She stared blankly at Xie Huailing. Before her, the man's eyes were lowered, and two red tears clung to his beautiful face, like a breathtaking beauty rising from the water. Otherwise, how could he be so delicate and lovely at this moment? She looked at Xie Huailing and said, "As for the second half of the sentence, it's unimportant. Dreams are like clouds, naturally free and unrestrained. Everyone dies, and even hatred has its end. There's no need to be so afraid. The princess and I can be together."
Under Zhao Mengyun's gaze, Xie Huailing opened his lips again.
.
A new tomorrow.
A bright and warm tomorrow.
The woman rarely appeared at this time. She used to only go out at night, and even earlier, because of her heartache, she always didn't want to see anyone and wouldn't let anyone see her.
Everyone has a past, and she was no exception. Her past was something she couldn't bear to revisit; it only haunted her in the dead of night, causing her immense pain, which eventually led to a deep-seated emotional turmoil. Even as her physical ailments healed, the emotional wounds only worsened. If it weren't for her recent overwhelming emotions, and the revelation of a lingering regret before her eyes, causing her to be unable to suppress her feelings and recall the past, she would never have appeared here during the day.
A woman stood by a flowerbed, her veil fluttering in the wind.
"Madam Ye." A voice came from behind.
In fact, a woman can tell who it is just by the sound of footsteps. She turned to the side and saw Xie Huailing wearing the cloak she had lent him when they met that night. He looked like he had just returned from outside, and his hair was still messy at the temples, suggesting that his trip had not been very peaceful.
But the woman, having observed all this, thought of other things. She thought of Shi Guanyin, and her close friend Qiu Lingsu, with whom she shared the same heavy hatred and regret. They knew each other intimately and had both believed that forgetting and enduring, and simply continuing to live out their lives in this way, was the only option they could take. But now, Xie Huailing had come. She told Qiu Lingsu that all debts must be repaid, and so Qiu Lingsu slashed open Shi Guanyin's face with a knife. Shi Guanyin wept bitterly, finally untying the knot of half her life.
The woman was genuinely happy for her, but also absent-minded, recalling past events.
She tries to forget it every day, but she can't.
Xie Huailing spoke again, asking, "Is Madam Ye admiring the flowers?"
The woman nodded to her and said, "I suddenly wanted to see the flowers during the day, so I went out. Did I take Miss Xie's place?"
"No, that's not true. I just got back myself," Xie Huailing replied gently. After a slight pause, she added, "I thanked Madam Ye for what happened to Madam Ren a few days ago. If it weren't for your help, the Beggars' Sect would definitely have had to redeploy some of their forces to deal with Wuhua. Although you didn't say it, I know it was you. Thank you so much."
The woman then realized that Xie Huailing had seen through her feigned illness. This was not surprising; given her ability to outwit Shi Guanyin, it was no surprise that she had discovered this as well.
She might even have guessed her own identity. How many women in the world are skilled enough to kill Wuhua and then disappeared fifteen years ago? Not to mention, she is also a member of the Golden Wind and Fine Rain Pavilion.
The woman couldn't quite articulate her feelings. When she thought of the Golden Wind and Drizzle Pavilion, she would also think of the Six and a Half Hall.
She replied to Xie Huailing, saying, "It's just what I should do. Lingsu is my sister, and it would be a terrible mistake for me not to protect her."
After saying this, the woman was about to leave. She walked out from near the flower bushes, said a hasty goodbye, and passed by Xie Huailing. Then, just as they were brushing past each other, she was called back.
“Mrs. Guan,” Xie Huailing said.
The woman stopped.
"Wife of Brother Zhao of the Dreamlike Heavenly Net Pass." Xie Huailing turned his head and looked at her again, "I didn't call you by the wrong name, did I?"
The woman—no, Guan Zhaodi—stood still.
The feigned illness vanished, and she straightened her back, standing as upright as a precious sword that had been sealed away for many years and forced to become dusty. She raised her hand and ripped off the veil from her face. The chivalrous spirit of many years ago was still there. There was no attempt to deceive or mislead. Guan Zhaodi turned around: "I didn't call you wrong."
This is a face that cannot be described as beautiful. Of course she is beautiful, very beautiful, but there is something more important on this face than beauty, something more shocking than so-called beauty or ugliness. It is a resolute face, whether it is her expression, her eyes, or her lips, all of which have been tormented a thousand times over the past fifteen years. Having endured the past, she reveals a resolute strength, a sign that her spirit has been worn down and she is no longer the person she once was.
First, she admired Xie Huailing, gazing at her with appreciation, without asking how she had discovered it. Then she wanted to sigh, as she hadn't been called those three words in many years: "It's amazing that someone still calls me that."
Xie Huailing said softly, mentioning matters of the martial world: "It's not just me, there are many others in the world who remember you."
Guan Zhaodi sneered. How could she not know what those people were remembering? She found it incredibly ironic: "Remember me? Are they remembering me, or are they remembering the wife of the head of the Six and a Half Hall, Lei Sun's wife?!"
The volume almost got out of control. Guan Zhaodi gritted her teeth, let out a long breath, and said, "I don't need this kind of memory. You might as well just forget about me. As for you, since you're standing here, you should know something. Just ask whatever you want. You've settled Ling Su's great grudge, so I won't hide anything from you."
Xie Huailing didn't refuse and directly asked Guan Zhaodi about the events of fifteen years ago. As she said, Guan Zhaodi didn't hesitate even if it was reopening old wounds.
The story unfolded before Xie Huailing's eyes, and it contained even deeper secrets.
Fifteen years ago, Guan Zhaodi had a friend named Wen Xiaobai. She was not only Guan Zhaodi's good friend but also her sister-in-law, and she had a very close relationship with her brother, Guan Qi. However, things are unpredictable, and Guan Zhaodi didn't know what had happened. She only knew that one day, she suddenly saw Wen Xiaobai appear at Liufenbantang. Not only that, but she was also seen being intimate with her husband.
Later, it was Guan Zhaodi, blinded by shame and anger, who made the move. Then, Lei Sun, for Wen Xiaobai's sake, ruthlessly killed her. Guan Zhaodi, having lived so long, never knew that her husband actually loved her friend. Severely injured, she fled, thinking she was going to die. In her despair, she met Qiu Lingsu.
Guan Zhaodi had known Qiu Lingsu before, when she had not yet entered Bianjing. Little did she know that their reunion years later would be like this.
Upon encountering Guan Zhaodi, Qiu Lingsu was horrified by the wounds on his body. An orphan, she knew that most of the people from her past had died long ago, and she couldn't believe that a friend like Guan Zhaodi had also died so tragically. Before her disfigurement, Qiu Lingsu possessed the love of half the world; many kings and generals were willing to help her. Using her beauty, she tricked people into cleaning up her mess, then fled with Guan Zhaodi to Jinan in the dead of night.
At this point, Guan Zhaodi choked up. If there was anyone in the world she would care about from now on, it would only be Qiu Lingsu, and perhaps half of Ren Ci.
She hated Lei Sun, hated Wen Xiaobai, and hated her brother who knew she was missing but could only call her "Xiaobai." The only person in the world who was kind to her was Qiu Lingsu, and perhaps Ren Ci, who only knew she was good to Qiu Lingsu and dared to spend money like dirt to treat her illness. With these people taking care of her, Guan Zhaodi managed to pull through.
She always felt like she was dead, yet also like she was still alive, wondering how a person's life could end up so turbulent.
Xie Huailing listened in silence. This was about 80-90% accurate to her guess, and she truly felt sorry for Guan Zhaodi. The fact that Guan Zhaodi was still alive and had the courage to live was already worthy of the admiration of the world.
This wasn't the end of it. Guan Zhao wiped away the tears that welled up when he mentioned Qiu Lingsu, and continued, "This is what happened fifteen years ago. I didn't disappear at all; it was just that Lei Sun was guilty. Now that you know all this, you can go back to Bianjing and make a fuss. Lei Sun couldn't have done all this without leaving a trace. He always thinks he's so clever, ha. Anyway, I sincerely wish that Jin Feng Xi Yu Lou will take his head soon. I still remember the layout of the Six and a Half Hall's main hall; I can draw it for Miss Xie."
"But I have a request: please, Miss Xie, consider me dead and do not mention that I am still alive."
Guan Zhaodi harbored resentment, but time had passed, and what good was hatred now? She tossed and turned day and night, wondering if she could take revenge, if she could even seek revenge: "Ling Su saved me and took care of me, and Ren Ci and she also devoted fifteen years of their efforts to me. I owe them a debt I can never repay. I cannot implicate them because of my own hatred."
She would rather swallow her hatred.
Even though the anger in her eyes had turned into flames, she still wished she could burn herself up.
Xie Huailing didn't answer, but slowly walked over. They were very close. When she reached Guan Zhaodi, she said, "But Madam Guan, can you really swallow this insult? During your fifteen years of suffering, Lei Sun didn't have a single day without living a carefree life, raising Wen Xiaobai's child, and even using you as a cover. Madam Guan, you remember the kindness of Chief Ren and Madam Ren, and they must also remember you. To see you die in despair would be torture for them, especially for Madam Ren."
"Please think it over carefully, Madam Guan. If you hate him and are angry with him, then you must not let him go."
Xie Huailing leaned close to her ear and repeated the same words, the same words she had said to Zhao Mengyun.
The cuckoo still weeps for spring's dawn, its cries dying on the branches year after year. The most enduring and profound emotion in the world is hatred, is resentment.
"The anger of a commoner is nothing more than this: removing his hat and shoes, fighting to the death, only results in bloodshed within five steps. It cannot be compared to the anger of a feudal lord, whose anger can cause thousands of chariots to be ravaged, blood to flow like rivers, and even if rivers were to overturn, it would not be able to stop it; nor can it be compared to the anger of the emperor, whose anger can cause thunder to shake the heavens, the nine tripods to be overturned, millions of corpses to lie in wait, blood to flow for thousands of miles, and the sun and moon to lose their light and the mountains and rivers to change color. But even if such anger is far beyond our reach, there is another kind of anger in the world, another kind of anger of a commoner."
Xie Huailing said solemnly, “Removing one’s hat and shoes, and banging one’s head on the ground, is the anger of a common man, not the anger of a scholar. The anger of a scholar should be like a comet striking the moon, a white rainbow piercing the sun, or a hawk striking down in the palace, assassinating the emperor to rectify the way of the world. Even if the anger is not yet expressed, it is as if ominous signs have descended from the heavens, foreshadowing something great. Therefore, if a scholar’s anger is expressed, even if it results in bloodshed within five steps and two corpses, the whole world will be dressed in mourning, and all will be silent and grieving.”
"The same principle applies to other things in the world."
She grasped Zhao Mengyun's hand, and Zhao Mengyun gripped it tightly in return. She smiled gently at Zhao Mengyun, like a Guanyin Bodhisattva in the human world, lowering a thread of light.
Guanyin, with her crane-like appearance and ruthless heart, said: "Those self-important 'heroes' who manipulate the wind and rain, who would not care about harming a thousand or a hundred people for their own benefit, who lead beasts to devour people, whose hairs have been cut off in countless ways, who have vainly shed countless tears and blood, and who live out their lives in vain regret. And what price would these great figures pay for the anger and hatred of a mere woman?"
A moment's thought can change a mind. Everything else on the table was overturned, and shards of porcelain pierced her skin, but she was oblivious. Her eyes were wide open, and tears that had been welling up for years finally fell.
The lamp was overturned, and the flames licked at the silk hanging to one side. The raging firelight illuminated the room, dispelling all gloom, leaving only two people and two shadows. Xie Huailing touched Zhao Mengyun's face; her lips trembled as she tried to speak several times, but in the end, her voice burst forth.
"Help me, save me..." she cried continuously.
The fire, veiled in tears, ignited her eyes, just like the crimson in Guan Zhaodi's eyes, so close at hand, their reflections blazing endlessly. Countless hatreds were like countless fires.
Having said that, Xie Huailing brushed past him and walked away, leaving only the lingering echo. The lingering echo was also burned in the firelight, with handfuls of oil being poured on it.
Just as her skirt was about to sway lightly with her steps, her wrist was grabbed.
There is no hatred that cannot be repaid, and no one who can be hurt at will.
That's the answer.
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As usual, this volume is now finished. There will be a giveaway in the comments section at the end of this chapter; ten winners will be selected. [Go for it!]
You can start guessing who the last male guest is! I'll come back in the chapter where he appears and give a red envelope to everyone who guessed correctly!
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