Feng Guang had been walking and stopping for an unknown amount of time, perhaps an hour. Just as the sandstorm obscured her vision, she suddenly saw a white hem of clothing. Her previously weak and exhausted body suddenly regained its strength, and she ran over to find the man lying on the ground.
"Sijia!" She squatted down beside him and helped him sit up.
Sijia was pale and looked extremely weak, but he still managed to open his eyes and weakly said, "Your Highness..."
"You're injured?" Feng Guang looked at the blood flowing from his chest, staining his white clothes red, and without caring about the blood, she took out a handkerchief and pressed it against his wound. "Si Jia, don't die, I'll get you out of here!"
"I'm afraid I can't get out... I'm sorry, Your Highness, I can't escort you back to the palace."
“You brought me out, so of course you have to send me out, Sijia. I won’t let you die.” A fierce determination rose in her heart, and she said viciously, “You have to live on, live to be a hundred years old. There are still many things you haven’t done in this world: marry, have children, make friends, and travel. You’re not going to be an assassin, nor are you going to be the musician you hate.”
Si Jia's eyes flickered, and after a slight pause, he asked in a weak voice, "Why did the princess say that I hate being a musician?"
"If you don't love the zither, how can you become a zither player?"
He paused for a second, "The princess is mistaken..."
“I’m not wrong!” she retorted forcefully. “I could tell at the palace banquet that day that someone who truly loves the zither could never play without a trace of joy and enjoyment in their eyes. Your music is indeed very beautiful, but it’s the same as the sound I made when I was two or three years old, just randomly tapping on bowls and chopsticks. Because… it’s all just pointless stuff.”
That's why she said he wasn't suited to playing the piano that day.
He moved his pale lips, but didn't utter a single word.
“Sijia, you haven’t found what you really want to do yet. It’s okay. I’ll take you out. You’ll have more time to think things through. I haven’t given up, and you can’t give up either.” Without waiting for a reply, she put one of his hands on her shoulder and then struggled to lift him up from the ground. Most of his weight was on her, and she swayed to the side, but she quickly gritted her teeth and held on without falling.
He could refuse to cooperate with her actions, but in the first moment, he didn't think of pushing her away. Now, it seemed too late to do anything to push her away. He said, "Leave me here, and you'll have a better chance of survival if you go alone."
"Why should I leave you here?" she asked, puzzled. "In my eyes, you are not a burden. You are a Sijia, a living Sijia. I will not leave you here to be buried by the sandstorm."
"I will be a burden to you."
“No.” She looked up and smiled sweetly. “You won’t be a burden to me. You are the reason I can keep going in this desert.”
His deep eyes stared intently at her, the emotions reflected within them unreadable.
She said, "Once we're all out, you should seriously look for what you want to do, Sijia. You should live for yourself for once."
Live for yourself properly this once?
For the first time, a look of confusion appeared in his eyes—a look of doubt and bewilderment.
It was confusion, confusion about why she wasn't the fragile, pitiful creature she thought she was, someone who couldn't survive without protection...
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