Heartfelt wishes
In the eleventh year of the Tianqi reign, just after the Cold Food Festival.
Before dawn, Chang'an was shrouded in a thin mist. A blue-canopied carriage silently stopped at the back gate of the Wen residence.
With Qingxing's help, Xuanji stepped into the carriage. She looked back, the outline of the Wen residence standing silently in the morning light. This place held half a lifetime of joys and sorrows, but now, only a sense of peace, as if a heavy burden had been lifted, remained in her heart. Qingxing followed closely behind, carrying a bundle of valuables, and also nimbly boarded the carriage, quietly sitting down beside Xuanji.
Wen Tingyun gave his son a few final words, patted him on the shoulder, and then nimbly mounted his horse.
"Is everything packed?" he asked, his voice particularly clear in the quiet streets.
Xuanji nodded.
Wen Jue said in a low voice, "Father, Junior Sister, take care on your journey."
The carriage slowly started moving, and they were like a drop of water, quietly flowing into the city that was about to awaken, then silently evaporating and disappearing. When the first rays of dawn finally illuminated Chengtian Gate, their carriage had already driven out of Mingde Gate, leaving the magnificent yet heavy city of Chang'an behind forever.
The carriage bumped along the official road heading south, raising a fine cloud of dust.
Wen Tingyun rode on horseback, maintaining a distance that was neither too close nor too far from the carriage. Through the carriage curtain, he could vaguely see what was happening inside.
Most of the time, Xuanji leaned against the carriage wall, feigning sleep. Qingxing beside her was also drowsy, her head nodding slightly. With each bump, Xuanji's long eyelashes would tremble gently, casting a fragile shadow on her pale face. Her slightly furrowed brows were like a fine needle, piercing Wen Tingyun's heart.
The journey was arduous, involving both land and water travel, taking more than a month.
On this day, the carriage finally entered the prefecture city where the Lingnan Circuit was located. They did not linger in the bustling city. Wen Tingyun had already asked an old friend to find a small courtyard in the suburbs, nestled against the mountains and by the water.
The courtyard has white walls and black tiles, a simple layout, and the view of the verdant mountains can be seen from the window. It is indeed a good place to live in seclusion.
Time in Lingnan flowed slowly in a deliberately tranquil manner. In the blink of an eye, they had been living there for more than a month.
After the initial flurry of settling in, life seemed to stagnate. Wen Tingyun seemed to have reverted to his identity as a "scholar," spending his days either organizing old manuscripts or going out to explore the local customs of Lingnan. When interacting with Xuanji, he always kept his words and actions within proper bounds.
He found local gazetteers for her, discussed with her the similarities and differences between Lingnan poetry and prose and those of the Central Plains, and cared for her daily life in every possible way, yet there was always an invisible veil between them called "etiquette".
Xuanji's fatigue was gradually soothed by the warm and humid environment of Lingnan, and her cheeks regained some color. However, the emptiness in her heart did not dissipate with the change of environment. Instead, it became heavier and heavier in the daily "respectful" interactions.
Sometimes she would sit alone under the tall banyan tree in the courtyard, watching the gnarled roots sway gently in the wind, and she would sit there for half a day.
She didn't know what Wen Tingyun was thinking, but she began to wonder why she had abandoned everything and followed him to a distant place. Was it just to continue that suffocating "master-disciple" relationship in a different place?
That evening, the setting sun, like blood, bathed the courtyard in a warm orange glow. Wen Tingyun and Xuanji sat facing each other at the stone table in the hall, dining amidst the soft clinking of bowls and chopsticks and the faint chirping of insects in the distance. After the meal, the servants cleared away the leftovers. Wen Tingyun pondered for a long time, as if making a decision, before raising his eyes to look at Xuanji. His gaze was gentle, yet carried a deliberate, teacherly aloofness.
“Youwei,” he began, his voice steady, revealing little emotion, “Now that we have left Chang’an, the past is but a fleeting memory. This place, though remote, is quiet and peaceful, perfect for immersing ourselves in our studies.”
He paused, avoiding Xuanji's increasingly fixed gaze, and continued: "Here, I will still treat you with the respect due to a disciple. All your daily needs will be taken care of by servants; you need not worry about it. The path of learning is endless, and we..."
He didn't finish his sentence.
Xuanji abruptly raised her head, the composure she had barely maintained for the past month instantly replaced by an unbelievable, sharp pain. She looked at Wen Tingyun, at his eyes that tried to remain calm yet couldn't hide the complex emotions, at the words "disciple's etiquette" he uttered, and felt a chilling aura rush from the soles of her feet to the top of her head, freezing her completely.
"Disciple's etiquette?" she repeated the three words softly.
The chill in that voice made Wen Tingyun's heart clench.
They traveled together, bound for thousands of miles, defying convention and abandoning everything in Chang'an. She believed that they already shared a tacit understanding that transcended worldly conventions. She believed that he brought her here because he was finally willing to confront the unspoken emotional entanglements that had plagued them for years. She believed that in Lingnan, far from the troubles of the world, they could break free from all shackles, adopt new identities, and start anew.
It turns out they were actually "master and disciple"! They were actually "disciple"!
Why did he take her away? Was it out of pity? Was it out of responsibility? Or was it out of a pitiful sense of "morality" that he, Wen Feiqing, dared not cross the line under his reputation? In his heart, Yu Xuanji would always just be a "disciple" who needed his guidance and shelter.
Overwhelming disappointment and humiliation, like a surging tide, instantly shattered the composure she had maintained for days. She recalled the emotion and relief she felt when Xiang'er relayed her master's last words before she left the capital. She remembered how she had answered without hesitation when he asked if she could go to Lingnan with him.
At this moment, it all seems like a huge joke! All her hopes, all her desperate gambles, turned out to be nothing but her own wishful thinking!
She suddenly stood up, the chair scraping against the bluestone slab with a harsh sound.
“Master…” She looked at him, then suddenly laughed softly, a laugh that was sad and desolate, filled with self-mockery, “What a ‘disciple’s etiquette! What a ‘devotion to learning’! So in your heart, Master, all my following you for thousands of miles was for this empty knowledge!”
Her voice suddenly rose, filled with pent-up grievances and resentment: "If that's the case, why did you take me away from Chang'an in the first place? Why did you let me have... have those inappropriate thoughts?"
Before she could finish speaking, tears streamed down her face.
“Young and inexperienced”.
"Don't call me!" Xuanji suddenly stepped back and turned to rush out the door.
As Wen Tingyun watched the light in her eyes fade, the long-suppressed emotions—a mixture of fear and deep desire—erupted like a volcano that had been dormant for a long time.
He grabbed her arm with such force that she cried out in pain.
"Where are you going?" His voice was hoarse, no longer as cold as before. "Back to Li Yi's side? Back to Xianyi Temple? Youwei... do you want me to watch you... fall into whose arms again?"
The last few words were laced with an almost ferocious accusation. Before she could answer, he suddenly pulled her forcefully into his embrace! It wasn't an embrace, it was a capture. His arms locked her slender waist like iron clamps, the force so great that her bones ached, as if he wanted to crush her and absorb her into his own blood.
"Sir..." she cried out in pain and panic.
This address, however, was like a spark igniting a wasteland. The last vestige of clarity in his eyes burned away, replaced by a deep, almost destructive, fascination and affirmation.
“Youwei…you are mine…I should have admitted it long ago…you are the dream I nurtured bit by bit over seven years…how could I…watch someone else shatter you…” He roared, his burning lips covering hers with undeniable force.
This wasn't a kiss; it was conquest, a brand. He pried open her teeth with his tongue, ruthlessly stealing her breath, swallowing all her possible resistance and words. Only rapid breathing and the sticky sounds of their intertwined lips filled the air.
Xuanji's mind went blank; her initial struggle vanished under his violent onslaught. The emotions that had been suppressed for so long, like a flood bursting its banks, overwhelmed all reason and resentment. She began to respond clumsily, her arms encircling his neck, tears mingling with their breaths, indistinguishable between bitter and salty.
The pale moonlight illuminated the clothes scattered on the ground, like abandoned shackles.
His kiss was no longer limited to her lips, but carried a burning heat as it traveled down her delicate neck, leaving his mark that was slightly stinging.
Yes, that's it. The talent in her brows, the aloofness in her bones, the charm that inadvertently wafts from her eyes and brows... He personally polished and carefully guided her, sculpting a rough gem into the stunning beauty she is today. The poetic soul in her writing, the vastness in her heart, even her slightly trembling reaction at this moment, which one doesn't bear the imprint of his, Wen Feiqing's, painstaking efforts?
She was meant to belong to him. From the moment she looked up at him with those clear yet stubborn eyes in the brothel, it was destined that she would belong to him!
A mixture of creator's pride and possessor's ecstasy surged violently within him. He could no longer restrain himself, no longer hold back, and used his body to replace all unspoken words, forcefully and thoroughly declaring his sovereignty.
As the pain struck, Xuanji tilted her head back and let out a mournful cry like that of a young animal. But strangely, this pain also shattered her last remaining consciousness, causing her to completely sink into this vortex of pure sensation dominated by him.
Happiness is not only physical pleasure, but also the complete surrender of the soul, because she inherently belongs to him.
She stopped thinking. In the darkness, she heard his suppressed, satisfied sigh.
Consciousness faded, and so did propriety. All she could hear was his heavy breathing, his repeated whispers of her name: "Youwei... Youwei..."
After an unknown amount of time, the storm gradually subsided.
The moonlight softened once more. Wen Tingyun knew Xuanji wasn't asleep. He stroked her long, black hair with his fingers, and after a long while, as if gathering enough courage, he spoke in a muffled voice, yet with a resolute determination that cut off all escape routes:
"Youwei, do you still remember the year we passed through Baipingzhou when the county annals were being compiled?" He kissed her black hair.
At that time, I wrote a poem called "Looking South of the Yangtze River".
He paused, then slowly recited the words, etched into his very bones: "Having finished my toilette, I lean alone against the river-viewing tower. A thousand sails pass by, none of them are the one I seek; the setting sun casts a lingering glow on the flowing water. My heart breaks on the white duckweed-covered isle."
His voice grew lower with the recollection: "That morning, I saw your silhouette leaning against the railing of the Wangjiang Tower, gazing into the distance at the boats coming and going on the river. At that moment, I realized with a start that I was afraid—afraid that one of those boats would carry you away, never to return."
He took a deep breath and hugged Xuanji even tighter. It was as if the panic that gripped his heart that day still lingered: "At that moment, all I knew was that I didn't want you to leave. I didn't want you to become just another spectacle in someone else's eyes, I didn't want you to stand beside another man, displaying that lonely, waiting posture."
His words were like molten lava, scalding Xuanji's heart. She had never heard him be so blunt, almost a pathetic confession.
"I wrote that poem, but I dared not let you see it. I hid it in my sleeve, as if concealing a secret incriminating crime. I told myself it was out of pity for my disciple, not love..." His voice was bitter, "But my wife... she saw through it at a glance. She said every word of that poem was about you, that I had etched every smile and frown of yours into my heart..."
His voice was filled with regret and self-mockery: "I rushed to find you a husband because I didn't know what would happen if you stayed by my side. Later, you rejected Xu Sanlang and chose to marry Li Yi as a concubine, which broke my heart. Watching you grow increasingly withdrawn by Li Yi's side, watching you suffer countless injustices, watching you finally end up imprisoned. Youwei, I..."
His voice choked as he buried his face deep in the crook of her neck, the burning sensation sending a shiver down Xuanji's spine.
"When you went to prison, I was terrified... I was afraid that you would leave this filthy world just like Liu Qianqian... so resolutely."
He finally raised his head and, in the hazy moonlight, gazed deeply into her misty eyes, where emotions he had suppressed for seven years surged.
"I am no upright gentleman, Youwei. I am just a coward, a coward who only dares to face his true self when he is on the verge of losing everything. I brought you to Lingnan, talking about living in seclusion and pursuing scholarship, it was all a self-deceiving lie!"
His fingertips gently traced her cheek, his voice trembling with endless pity and lingering fear: "I just wanted to hide you away, hide you somewhere no one could find you, hide you in a world where it's just you and me. This thought... selfish, unbearable... but it's lingered in my heart for far too long, far too long..."
"So, please don't call me 'sir' anymore..." he pleaded, pressing his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. "Call me Fei Qing... or whatever... just don't push me back into that cold, impersonal place."
"The mountains and rivers of Lingnan, this small courtyard, may not be able to give you the prosperity of Chang'an, but here lies my whole heart, Wen Feiqing, and all the time of the rest of my life."
He gazed at her intently, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity and a desperate, reckless honesty.
"Youwei, I love you. It's not the appreciation of a teacher for a disciple, nor the pity of a scholar for a talented woman, but the most primal, greedy, and inescapable love a man has for a woman."
His words, like a final thunderclap, completely shattered the seven-year-old fog and high walls that had stood between them. All the cautious probing, all the insincere estrangement, all the heart-wrenching missed opportunities—all found their answers in that moment.
Xuanji gazed at him, and tears finally burst forth, no longer of grievance and pain, but of immense relief and profound emotion that nearly overwhelmed her. In that moment, she suddenly understood the deep meaning of Madam Wen's dying words, the transcendent tolerance and compassion that transcended worldly concerns. She reached out, her fingertips tracing his slightly graying temples, and kissed his lips. Then she said, "Feiqing, you have gray hair."
The tender moonlight witnessed this long-awaited reunion. The night in Lingnan was warm and humid, just like their lives and souls that had finally merged and were no longer separated.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
