The Dao Heart is Broken and the True Meaning is Revealed
Consciousness slowly emerged, like sinking in the depths of the ocean. The first thing to return was my sense of smell: a rich herbal aroma mingled with the familiar, crisp scent of cedar lingering at the tip of my nose. Next came my sense of hearing: the faint rhythmic footsteps of the night watchmen outside the window and the sound of waves in the distant waters. Finally, my sense of touch: a dull ache throbbed in my right shoulder blade, but it was properly bandaged, and the cooling effect of the medicine was slowly seeping in, relieving the burning pain.
I struggled to open my heavy eyelids, and what came into view was the familiar canopy of my bed—this was my residence in Liangshanpo. Tilting my head slightly, in the flickering light of the oil lamp on the table, I saw Gongsun Sheng sitting in a chair beside the bed.
He still wore his blue cloth robe, but the hem was stained with a hint of dark red blood and dust that hadn't been completely washed off. His face was paler than usual, his jawline tense, and a lingering sense of fatigue and gloom hung between his brows. He didn't meditate or regulate his breathing, but simply sat quietly, his deep gaze fixed on a certain point in the void, as if deep in thought, or perhaps suppressing some surging emotion. Those eyes, usually calm and serene, as if they could see through the world, now resembled the sea on the eve of a storm, undercurrents surging.
He has been guarding here all this time?
My eyes fell on his hands on his knees. The fingers with distinct joints, which once gracefully flicked the whisk and caused thunder, were now slightly curled up, and the knuckles were white due to the force, as if he was trying his best to restrain something.
As if sensing my awakening, he snapped back to reality, his gaze fixed on my face. In that instant, I clearly caught the multitude of emotions that quickly flashed across his eyes—relieved concern, deep fear, lingering anger, and something even more complex and indistinguishable, threatening to burst forth. But all of this was fleeting like a meteor streaking across the night sky, ultimately suppressed by him, condensing into a seemingly calm, yet shrouded, deep pool.
"Awake?" He spoke, his voice a little hoarse and dry, which he himself did not even notice, breaking the silence in the room.
I tried to force a smile to reassure him, but it agitated the wound on my shoulder. I couldn't help but let out a soft "hiss" and frowned.
"Don't move." He rose immediately, his movements so swift they created a breeze, and reached out to lightly support my left shoulder, stopping me from rising. His fingertips felt slightly cool through the thin fabric of my nightgown, yet they carried an undeniable firmness. "The wound is quite deep, and the arrowhead is barbed. Removing it took some effort. It will take at least a month to heal." He explained, his tone returning to his usual calm, but his eyes, fixed on my wound, betrayed his inner turmoil.
"Thank you... Taoist priest for saving my life." I lay down as instructed and whispered my thanks, my voice trembling with weakness. The image of him before he passed out, his red eyes and the mixture of shock and anger he'd seen when he saw me injured, was so different from the forced composure he now possessed, and a wave of emotion welled up in my heart.
Hearing the words "life-saving grace," his eyes suddenly darkened, and the aura around him instantly grew colder. He withdrew his supportive hand, clasping it behind his back. He turned his back to me, his tone suddenly stern, filled with suppressed anger: "I've practiced for decades and have learned my own methods of self-preservation. Why would you risk your life to save me?! If you encounter danger like this again, protect yourself first. Never act so recklessly again! If anything happens to you..." He stopped abruptly, as if the words that followed weighed heavily, yet the tense back and suddenly clenched fists betrayed his unfinished meaning.
There was that same accusatory concern again. In the past, I might have felt a little wronged by his cold, hard tone. But after experiencing life and death on the battlefield, witnessing his panic over my injury, his wrath unleashing a thunderbolt of rage, hearing these words now, only a bitter warmth welled up in my heart. He didn't truly blame me, but... he was afraid. He was afraid that arrow would truly take my life.
I looked at his tall, upright figure, which was tinged with loneliness and fear. I mustered up the courage I had in my life and spoke softly. Although my voice was weak, it was clear and firm: "But Taoist Priest... if it were you, would you watch Luanyin... die from the arrow?"
His body jolted violently, as if struck by thunder! He turned abruptly, his deep eyes fixed on me in disbelief, filled with shock, panic, and the embarrassment and helplessness of having his true feelings completely exposed. He opened his mouth, his lips pale, as if trying to find some excuse to refute, to maintain his usual detached attitude, but found that any words seemed so pale and ridiculous in the face of the bloody reality and my blunt gaze.
He wouldn't. We both knew the answer.
A stifling silence descended upon the quiet room. The occasional crackle from the oil lamp cast a flickering light and shadow on his face. He stood there, like a jade sculpture suddenly stripped of its support. His usual composure crumbled at my question, revealing the never-before-seen true emotions of "Gongsun Yiqing."
After a long time, he seemed to have been drained of all his strength. He slowly sat back in the chair, raised his hand and rubbed his throbbing solar plexus vigorously. His voice was low and hoarse, with a hint of indescribable fatigue and fragility: "You... you know... if that arrow had been deflected a little more, it would have pierced the pipa and entered the heart meridian... even if it was a Daluo Jinxian... it would have..." His words were choked in his throat again. The deep fear and powerlessness filled the air like a tide, so heavy that it made him breathless.
I looked at his profile, never before revealed in public, etched with obvious vulnerability and fear, at his trembling fingertips, and the softest part of my heart felt clenched, a sharp pain surging through me. This Cloud Dragon, always soaring high above the clouds, overlooking all beings, seemingly in complete control, could, because of one person, fall to earth and experience the bittersweet feeling of fear.
"Yiqing..." I subconsciously called out the name hidden deep in my heart, my voice as gentle as a sigh, "Look, I'm not... being nice to you, am I?"
With the cry of "Yi Qing," he felt as if frozen in place, his hand massaging his forehead frozen in mid-air. He slowly raised his head, his gaze fixed on me with a complex urge, one that revealed the conflict between inner and outer, the bewilderment of a shattered heart, the helplessness of an undeniable destiny, and a surge of emotion that gradually became clearer, no longer repressible or negativistic.
"Bu Luanyin," he stared at me, addressing me by my full name for the first time, with a solemnity that bordered on desperation. "Are you... the inevitable calamity I must endure on my path of cultivation, or..." He paused, his eyes, which seemed to hold the galaxy's currents, locked onto me tightly as he asked, word by word, "...the only glimpse of hope and... the truth I have seen on this barren journey?"
Fate? Or vitality and truth?
He didn't use words like "fate" or "love," but this question struck me more deeply than all his previous attempts at defense, testing, and approaching. He was demanding an answer from me, an answer that concerned the fate of his heart and our future.
I looked at his eyes, which were no longer calm, reflected my reflection clearly, and were full of struggle and expectation. I knew that his pure and peaceful heart, which he had maintained for decades, was finally completely shattered because of me, revealing his true inner self.
The calamity of love has arrived, the heart of Tao is broken, and the true meaning will be revealed.
I didn't answer immediately. I just slightly supported my uninjured left half of my body, endured the pain in my shoulder, stretched out my left hand to him, and looked back at him with a firm and gentle gaze.
At this moment when silence was more powerful than words and everything was about to become clear, Qingsong knocked cautiously and anxiously at the door and called out, "Master! Master! King Chao and Chief Song Gongming have come to visit Sister Bu and are already outside the courtyard!"
The stagnant and delicate atmosphere in the room was instantly broken, like delicate glass being thrown into a stone and suddenly shattered.
The emotions surging in Gongsun Sheng's eyes receded like a tide, and almost instantly, he regained his cool and aloof demeanor. Only a lingering ripple in the depths of his eyes and the tightly pursed corners of his lips betrayed his inner turmoil. He quickly stood up and subtly straightened his slightly wrinkled Taoist robe, as if to erase all traces of his previous gaffe.
"Tell them that Miss Bu's condition has stabilized, but she has lost too much blood and is in a weak state of mind. She needs absolute rest. I appreciate their kindness, and we'll talk about it another day." He said to the outside of the door, his tone steady and indifferent, without any emotion, and with an unquestionable alienation.
"Yes, Master! I will report it right away." Qingsong's footsteps hurried away.
Gongsun Sheng stood there, silent for a moment, as if calming the waves of emotion he had forcibly suppressed. Then, he turned back to me, his gaze fixed on my forehead, slightly damp with sweat from the pain, and my still-extended left hand, his expression complex and incomprehensible.
In the end, he didn't hold my hand, but just walked towards me, gently but unyieldingly helped me lie down again, and carefully tucked in the corners of the quilt for me.
"You should have a good rest and stop having random thoughts." He lowered his eyes and looked at me, his voice low, "I will come to see you later."
He turned and walked toward the door with seemingly unhurried steps. However, just as he was about to push the door open, he paused again. He didn't turn around, his back to me, his tall figure casting a long shadow under the light.
Silence filled the air and I could almost hear my own heartbeat like a drum.
After a long moment, he seemed to have made up his mind. He spoke slowly in a voice that was extremely light, yet so clear that it was imprinted deep in my soul.
"When no one is around in the future... just call me 'Yiqing'."
Clear!
He actually allowed me to call him by his secular name!
I froze on the bed, my heart abruptly stopping as if struck by a sledgehammer, then pounding again with unprecedented force! Blood seemed to rush to my head, bringing a dizzying surge of ecstasy! By the time I recovered from the shock, his figure had already vanished through the door. Only his crisp breath and those earth-shattering words lingered in the air.
I leaned against the headboard, my uninjured left hand gently caressing my heavily bandaged right shoulder. The sharp pain seemed to transform into sweet reassurance. I savored his final words, each one like the most beautiful note, playing a joyful melody in my heart. Uncontrollably, the corners of my mouth curled up in a silly, yet heartfelt smile.
He asked me to call him by his name. This seemingly simple promise was like a sword that split the chaos, completely severing the last invisible barrier between us, namely, the "master-disciple relationship" and the "difference between immortals and mortals."
Though his heart was broken, his true meaning was clear. He was no longer just the "Cloud Dragon" Gongsun Sheng whom I needed to look up to; he was also the "Gongsun Yiqing" who allowed me to approach his heart and share his true emotions.
I knew that from this moment on, our relationship had undergone a fundamental change. The storm known as "love calamity" had finally engulfed us both completely. The road ahead might still be shrouded in fog and peril—the intensifying conflict within Liangshan, his irreconcilable disagreement with Song Jiang over the issue of recruiting him, and the looming shadow of fate—all these things still hung like a sword over our heads.
But at least at this moment, my heart is filled with unprecedented confidence and strength, because I truly feel that I am not alone in this destined difficult love and fate.
He was like that too. That heart of Taoism that once soared high in the clouds, untainted by dust, ultimately fell for me, landing beside me in this troubled world.
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