When she returned to the carriage, Meixiang was waiting for her with a smile on her face. Chu Qiao sat down quietly, her heart still pounding.
Is she too impulsive?
"Miss." Meixiang smiled and added a cushion for her, saying, "Everything in this world cannot be handled rationally. I think that Miss was too calm before. It is not necessarily a bad thing to be impulsive occasionally."
Chu Qiao turned to look at her in surprise, amazed at Mei Xiang's keen insight.
Meixiang laughed and said, "Miss, don't you know? You now have everything written on your face. Compared to the previous Miss, Meixiang thinks you are more likable now."
The carriage started moving, and Ping An came over and asked, "Sister, are we going to go with those people?"
"Let's go together, of course we'll go together!" Jingjing shouted, lifting the curtain. "Not only will we go together, we'll even live together in the future, haha!"
Mei Xiang poured a cup of ginseng tea for Chu Qiao, sighed softly, and said: "Miss, not everyone will wait for another person year after year. If you don't seize some things at the time, you will regret it if something unexpected happens in the future."
The warm wind blew in along the slightly fluttering car curtains, like a mother's gentle fingers. The sky was clear and blue, and there was a faint sound of a soaring eagle flying far away, passing through the clouds and far away from the dust.
Chu Qiao sat on the stone steps, looking at the sea of clouds in the sky. The flowers in the yard were blooming so brightly, with crimson red and yellow stamens, which was very lovely.
The waiter of the inn was sitting on a small stool, making tea seriously. He was just a kid of thirteen or fourteen, at the age when he was young and lively. Jingjing and Ping'an also sat beside him, chatting with him in random moments.
Chu Qiao listened to them talking about the scenery of Shuqiu in Sichuan, the ancient plank roads in the hills of southern Xinjiang, the Cangjian Pavilion in Daxia, the Crow Mountain in Bian Tang, and finally the Hui people in the snow-capped mountains in northern Yan. The topic gradually became lively. Jingjing took out a box of candied fruit from the room and ate while chatting.
Meixiang was sitting under a camphor tree nearby, weaving a necklace. Her fingers fluttered like colorful butterflies, so nimble that it was dazzling.
The sky gradually darkened, lights were lit in the yard, and the summer heat gradually dissipated. Jingjing asked the kitchen for a few ice bowls filled with various fruits. They were cool and looked delicious.
It was the previous rainstorm that destroyed the suspension bridge in front of Qiufeng City. Chu Qiao and others' journey was delayed and they had to stay in Qiufeng City for two days before they could continue heading north.
Now, they live in a small inn surrounded by mountains and rivers. The whole inn is built on the hillside, with ups and downs, staggered layout, and lush trees. From a distance, it looks like a forest.
Chu Qiao's room was located on a high stone cliff, facing west. The boss must be an elegant person, because this place is close to Xizhao Mountain, so he named it Xizhaoyuan. Every evening, the sunset here is extremely beautiful.
Zhuge Yue lived in the Guizang Tower nearby. Yesterday afternoon, he sent his guards to help the government build the suspension bridge and the ferry. It seemed that he really had something urgent to do and needed to rush back immediately.
It rained during the day and stopped in the afternoon. The leaves were green and the flowers were scattered, which made them look more charming.
Chu Qiao was wearing a beige linen dress with an ebony hairpin in her hair. Her long black hair was tied loosely in a bun, making her look very fresh and comfortable.
The moon is very round tonight. Chu Qiao looks at it quietly and suddenly remembers that the Mid-Autumn Festival is coming soon, but this place doesn’t celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival.
The Mid-Autumn Festival here is called the White Moon Festival, which comes from a song that Chu Qiao once heard in the army. The song is about a man who rode a horse to fight in the war for many years. He was promoted from a small soldier to a sergeant, and from a sergeant to a general. Finally, he returned home after the war, but found that his house had collapsed, his wife had been taken away by someone else, his parents and son had starved to death, their bodies had turned to ashes, and there was not even a grave.
She still remembers the last words of the song: The moonlight shines on my soul, urging you to return home soon.
From then on, the White Moon Festival became a reunion festival, advising people to cherish their families and not ignore family affection for the sake of immediate gains and losses, and not regret it when it is too late.
The moon shines on my soul, urging you to return home soon...
“It sounds really nice.”
Meixiang put down the necklace in her hand, turned around to look at Chu Qiao, and said with a smile: "I have never heard you sing before."
Chu Qiao was slightly stunned, and then she realized that she had hummed aloud without realizing it.
"This is a really good song. Miss, can you understand the meaning of this song now?"
Chu Qiao tilted her head slightly, "Mei Xiang really likes to reason with others recently."
"I haven't been to school, and I only know the simplest truths. How can I compare with you, young lady?" Meixiang laughed and said, "But sometimes, the more you know, the more confused your mind becomes, and you tend to ignore some very simple truths."
Day after day, year after year, she climbed up to the roof and looked out at the village road, but still could not see her husband.
The husband is guarding the border, while outsiders are kicking the door and walls. The children are without clothes, and the parents are starving.
The emperor is far away and the generals are not in the village. The evil village chief is the local king.
There is a wisp of wind and rain, cold snow piles up on the broken house, the moon shines on my soul, urging you to return home as soon as possible.
Meixiang had a very peaceful smile on her face. She leaned against the tree and hummed quietly. Flower petals fell and hit the necklace in her hand. The white light of the moon fell on her fingers, like the curved wings of a butterfly.
At this time, a flute sound came faintly from the distance. It was too far away, and the sound of the flute was vague and ethereal, with a lingering feeling. Occasionally, when it reached a high pitch, it was still clear and elegant. It turned around and around, curling like smoke, clear and long, with a unique sense of openness.
Ping An and the others were originally chatting, but when they heard the flute sound, they suddenly stopped talking. Even Jing Jing, who was not familiar with music, pricked up her ears to listen, and seemed very quiet.
Mei Xiang stood up and went back to her room. When she came out, she was holding a beige cloak in her hand. She gently draped it over Chu Qiao's shoulders and said with a smile, "Miss, you have been running around these past few days and have been worried all the time. Now it's time to take a break. The backyard of this inn has a great view. The moonlight is just right tonight. Miss, why not go out for a walk."
Chu Qiao turned her head and saw Mei Xiang looking at her with a faint smile, with a hint of instigation and encouragement in her eyes.
"Mei Xiang..." Chu Qiao wanted to say something, but couldn't say it in the end.
Meixiang said, "Miss, I don't understand anything. I don't understand justice, faith, or belief. I just hope you can live a happier life. You are a good person, and that song should not be sung for you."
The moonlight shone on Chu Qiao's face. She was slightly stunned and couldn't help but think of the second half of the song:
The green mountains have gone through many seasons, the white snow is drifting, you don’t know the way home, the world is vast.
My child died of plague, and my parents have no rice or soup, so I have no choice but to sell myself in exchange for food to survive.
My husband has great ambitions and is unwilling to live in poverty. He has been waiting for you to return for ten years, and his hair has already turned white.
The world is full of fetters, and the years are full of sorrows. I don’t ask for great wealth, but a bed in poverty.
"Meixiang, go get the light green one."
Meixiang was slightly stunned and looked at her hesitantly.
But she suddenly laughed, stood up and said, "It's either white or black all day long, just like a funeral."
The moonlight shone all the way as she walked quietly. All the past years passed through her mind one by one, like a line of flying egrets, winding across the world of ink and painting. All that was fierce, bleak, colorful, or bleak, gradually settled in the heart, turned into a pool of water, and finally froze into ice.
Grudges, fetters, hatred, entanglement, help, hand in hand, life and death, reunion, struggle, joy, separation, confusion...
With every step she took, a picture or a landscape would appear before her eyes, and each picture carried too many heavy things. There is hatred for the country and family, personal grudges, debts and guilt, persistent longing, years of repression and forbearance, and the fierceness and circling of wanting to break through the shackles.
So many emotions filled my heart, and were finally revealed one by one by the straightforward lyrics, flowing out fiercely through my fingertips.
She is like a clear lake, using her reason and calmness to form a thin layer of ice around herself, suppressing all the emotions that she feels are wrong.
One year, two years, many years.
There is a small pavilion above a secluded pond in the back mountain. The wooden pavilion is already a bit dilapidated, but the owner was thoughtful enough to plant a few datura and wisteria trees under the pavilion. The tiny flower disks climb up along the vines and wrap around the pillars, adding a bit of elegant tranquility.
The moonlight shone faintly on the deep green pool in front, and a full moon was reflected in the center of the water, as white as snow.
Zhuge Yue was dressed in a lavender gown, sitting casually on the steps under the pavilion, one leg bent and the other straight, his back leaning against a paint-peeling pillar, a few strands of black hair slipping from his temples and falling on his forehead. He still looked very handsome, holding a turquoise bamboo flute in his hand, playing a very beautiful tune. There is no melancholy obsession, no lofty ambition, it is just like a country ballad played by an ordinary teenager, sometimes light, sometimes soothing, with the mischievous fragrance of Duruo wandering around him, like a naughty child.
Chu Qiao stood there quietly, without a sound. The wind blew through her light green cloak, and the gauze fluttered like willow branches in early spring.
She seemed to have never looked at him so carefully before. Life was full of ups and downs, and many years passed in a flash. She used to blame herself and feel how unfortunate she was, but now she thinks that she is at least much luckier than the general in the song. The house didn't collapse, her relatives were not dead, and the person she loved was still standing there. As long as she was willing to look back, she could get his hands.
Even though they were separated by thousands of miles and not tolerated by the world, he still walked firmly to this day step by step. With his rare willfulness and stubbornness, he broke through the shackles time and time again and created a clear sky for her to hide away.
The ice in her heart melted instantly, and she seemed to hear the building of rationality collapsing. She said to herself: Maybe, I can be willful for once.
After all, she hasn't been willful for many years.
The sound of the flute stopped suddenly. The man turned his head sideways and saw the woman in green standing quietly under the osmanthus tree. He was a little dazed.
"Why are you here?"
"Only you are allowed to come, but I am not allowed to come?"
Chu Qiao smiled, walked over and kicked Zhuge Yue's leg, saying, "Get out of the way."
The man retracted his legs and she sat down. The bright white waves of the deep pool reflected on her face, like broken pearls, leisurely and graceful.
“Zhuge Yue, once the suspension bridge is repaired tomorrow, you will be returning to Da Xia, right?”
Zhuge Yue nodded, looked at her in surprise, and said, "What's wrong?"
"So when will you come see me?"
A hint of surprise flashed across the man's eyes. He felt a little strange and looked her up and down as if she had some conspiracy.
"Are we going to wait until Emperor Xia dies? Or are we going to wait until Zhao Che ascends the throne? By then, will you be able to get away with it?" Chu Qiao sat on the stone steps with her knees bent. The hat behind her cloak drooped on her back, slightly raised, surrounding her snow-white neck. She rested her chin on her knees, her eyes fixed on the pool of water in front of her. Suddenly she turned her head and said, “Zhuge Yue, let me sing a song for you.”
The woman's eyes were extremely clear, no longer the sadness that came from seeing through the world. She looked at him quietly and smiled quietly, just like many times in her dreams, there was no other impurities in her eyes, no shadow of other people, only him.