Chapter 2: As I Set in the West
Everything was ashen; she knew she was dead.
Yet why did a chill still linger over her body? She slowly sank into the water, the pool supporting her and then letting her fall, her closed eyes illuminated by the shifting moonlight, casting dappled patterns. Xie Huailing didn't dwell on it.
She's asleep. Perhaps she's going to sleep forever; since she's already dead, it's not something to worry about.
.
The icy pool water instantly enveloped his entire body, the biting cold piercing his very bones like fine needles, stirring up the familiar chill within Su Mengzhen's lungs. He forcefully suppressed it, circulating his inner energy, letting the warm true energy flow throughout his body, barely dispelling some of the chill and suppressing the churning ailment.
The impact of the water disrupted her vision, the clear current churning with moonlight. But soon, all of this would pass, the water settling down. Su Mengzhen felt a slight chill; her vision suddenly became exceptionally clear.
The moonlight, no longer a poetic reflection on the water's surface, transformed into shimmering silver threads, delicate and translucent, piercing the dark pool water and drifting silently beneath. Beneath these threads, a myriad of colors bloomed; the fine sand and jagged rocks of the pool's bottom were revealed in exquisite detail under the crystal-clear light, as if the water itself did not exist, and what appeared was an inverted representation of the earth. This was no longer an ordinary pond.
He saw her in the depths of this cold, clear water, illuminated by the moonlight.
She was slowly sinking, her posture serene and ethereal, like drifting clouds and swirling snow, like the morning glow emerging from the mist. Her long hair flowed through the mist, entwining the hem of her white robes, beneath which her two slender, pale arms were exposed without any concealment, as white as snow, her attire exceptionally strange. Looking at her lower body, it was even more bizarre; more than half of her two long, straight legs were also reflected in the cold pool water. Such attire, so unrestrained and unconventional, was unheard of and unseen before.
But that might not be the first thing he saw; what he saw first was that face.
The moonlight and water reflected her face clearly.
Su Mengzhen had seen countless beauties in his life, but the face before him made all those names pale in comparison. Her eyebrows were not painted, but rather like distant mountains shrouded in mist; her nose was like a jade tube, naturally elegant and refined. Seeing her face evoked thoughts of the moon palace and the Luo River, a beauty imbued with the spirit of mist and clouds. Her form was graceful, her words ineffable; her reflection shone in the moonlit pool, her skin like jade.
Upon closer inspection, a small, deep red dot appeared below each eyelid, like two tiny, congealed drops of blood. This red dot, far from being jarring on the flawless jade surface, added a touch of poignant beauty, like a solitary beauty adorned behind a veil of clouds obscuring the moon.
She fell silently, her face translucent in the moonlight. At first glance, her features seemed as if she would vanish into nothingness in the cold, clear pool at any moment.
The icy pool water was no longer bone-chilling, and the chill in his lungs seemed to have been forgotten. Su Mengzhen hovered in this interplay of light and shadow, suddenly thinking of nothing, yet also thinking of everything.
Is it the beauty accentuated by those two red moles?
Is it the burning hope in my uncle's dying letter?
Or is it the irresistible destiny woven by this cold pool water and strange moonlight—his grand ambition, his heart's desire?
A rare encounter with a jade disc in a cold pool, a true encounter with golden wind and jade dew on this night.
Two drops of cinnabar, like tears from the heavens, bid farewell to the mortal world, marking the passing of countless lives.
Su Mengzhen didn't know.
All he knew was that his body had moved before he even realized it.
A gray figure broke through the stagnant beam of light and slid to the sinking figure. The icy pool water lapped against his cheeks several times as he reached out. Not to strangle her fragile neck, Su Mengzhen's fingers, calloused from years of wielding a knife, resolutely grasped her wrist, which she futilely raised in mid-air.
Without hesitation, Su Mengzhen exerted force with his arm and pulled her sharply. Her sinking, cold, and soft body was pulled into his arms as if weightless, and his other arm instinctively wrapped around her waist and back, holding her tightly.
The embrace was light, like holding a handful of moonlight, yet it was also incredibly heavy, as if holding a weighty mystery that still needed to be explored.
He pushed off a protruding rock at the bottom of the pool, and with the person in his arms, he rushed towards the broken, swaying halo of moonlight above.
The water surface was torn apart again, and a huge splash of water mixed with air exploded, and two figures broke out of the water.
Su Mengzhen, cradling the slightly cool body in his arms, leaped onto the blue stone by the pool. Water droplets rolled down his pale chin and soaked hair, dripping onto the cold stone surface with a soft "drip-drip" sound. His breathing was slightly rapid, as the chill stirred up by the cold water churned wildly within him, and his illness was about to flare up again. Each breath was like a knife scraping, unable to penetrate his endurance, only manifesting as a few bounces of his Adam's apple.
Yang Wuxie was almost upon Su Mengzhen the instant she broke the surface of the water. His gaze, sharp as lightning, swept quickly across the figure tightly held in the Master's arms, clad in a strange, soaking wet white robe, her long hair cascading like seaweed, before withdrawing his gaze. Without questioning, without surprise, the moment Su Mengzhen entered the water, Yang Wuxie understood—the Master's action must have a deeper meaning. Whether that meaning concerned the elusive "fate" or the unpredictable game of the Golden Wind and Fine Rain Pavilion, his loyalty was to completely isolate him from any possible interference beyond that meaning.
"Step back!" Yang Wuxie's voice wasn't loud, but it pierced the ears of every guard around him. It wasn't an order, but a brand, an instinct of obedience etched into their very bones.
"brush--!"
All the figures hidden in the shadows, as if pulled by invisible threads, lowered their heads in unison, their gazes fixed on the small patch of ground beneath their feet. They held their breath to the softest, their retreat silent. In the vast back garden, only the dripping water, the howling night wind, and Su Mengzhen's soon-to-be-finished panting remained.
Su Mengzhen didn't look at Yang Wuxie, nor at the departing guards. His gaze fell on the pale, almost transparent face in his arms, where two bright red tear moles shone tragically in the moonlight. He knew he couldn't delay any longer.
Su Mengzhen suddenly bent down, grabbed the black cloak he had previously thrown off the ground, and with lightning speed wrapped it around the body in his arms from head to toe. The large cloak concealed all inappropriate exposure, revealing only a pale, fragile face with closed eyes and a few strands of wet, sticky black hair on the cheek.
"Go back to your room," Su Mengzhen's voice rang out.
The Golden Breeze and Drizzle Pavilion always had plenty of guest rooms, and he chose the most secluded one. Su Mengzhen carried her straight inside and settled her on a soft couch covered with thick brocade quilts by the window. A corner of her black cloak was open, revealing her pale face and tightly closed eyelashes, the cold moonlight shining on her two red moles.
Su Mengzhen straightened up, water droplets still rolling off his body. He turned around to face Yang Wuxie, who had followed him in.
"Cell number three, Earth-class cell," Su Mengzhen instructed. "That female spy from the Six and a Half Hall that we caught last month."
Yang Wuxie's eyes flashed, and he understood. The female spy was about the same height as this woman, and she was still alive. She had also killed several brothers in the building and should have been dealt with long ago. Now she was useful.
"Bring her up." Su Mengzhen's instructions were concise and clear. "Change her into a clean set of undergarments before finishing up. Be quick."
Yang Wuxie nodded: "Yes."
He turned around, his figure disappearing silently into the darkness outside the door.
The female spy, whose martial arts had been crippled and who was tortured to the point of barely clinging to life, was quickly dragged up by two expressionless confidants. She was emaciated, with unfocused eyes, and had long since become a walking corpse under torture.
The door to the room was pushed open a crack, revealing several intricate screens separating it from the inner chamber. Yang Wuxie stepped inside, the female spy being supported behind him. He didn't even give her a chance to catch her breath, simply saying, "Go in and change her wet clothes, put this on her."
He tossed over a clean set of plain white women's undergarments.
The female spy had no choice; her eyesight was failing, and she groped her way to change the woman's clothes on the bed. When she emerged, Yang Wuxie's eyes hardened, and he swiftly raised his hand, striking the female spy with lightning speed.
A very faint thud. The female spy's body stiffened abruptly, her unfocused eyes instantly losing their last glimmer of light, her head drooping limply, life extinguished.
"Take him away." Yang Wuxie's voice was devoid of warmth. "The landlord said the information must not be leaked."
Two trusted confidants whispered their agreement. They shouldn't have done this, but tonight's events needed to be kept secret. They lifted the still-warm body and quickly disappeared out the door. Not even a trace of blood remained on the ground, only a faint smell of blood, which was quickly dispersed by the night breeze flowing in from the window.
The woman behind the screen, covered by a quilt, remained unconscious, as pale as a jade doll. Her outrageous and bizarre attire had been taken out and stored in a box, while she was now wearing a very ordinary set of women's undergarments taken from the Golden Wind and Fine Rain Pavilion's inner storeroom—clean, soft, and utterly unsuspecting.
Having also changed his clothes, Su Mengzhen stood in the shadows by the window, quietly waiting for everything to be completed. The moonlight accentuated his slender and upright profile. Only when Yang Wuxie turned around to report did he slightly turn his head, his gaze sweeping over the lifeless woman on the soft couch.
Su Mengzhen's voice still showed no signs of fatigue: "Invite Doctor Shu here."
Yang Wuxie bowed, his figure silently disappearing into the night once more. Only Su Mengzhen remained in the room, along with the woman he had pulled from the depths of the water, a place like a moon palace, a woman shrouded in destiny and mystery.
Outside the window, the full moon moved westward, its clear light as white as frost.
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