Looking at the Sword by Lamplight (30)
As he spoke, he leaned against Bian Hongqiu's neck and slowly closed his eyes, as if to suppress the fatigue and confusion in his body. He was so tall, and the way he bent over was awkward. Bian Hongqiu pushed him twice with a show of force, but he didn't let go. Instead, Bian Hongqiu, with one arm around Meng Shizhuang's back, could clearly feel the turbulent emotions of the person in his arms, yet the heartbeat under his palm remained surprisingly steady.
Bian Hongqiu's body was more honest than his words. His hand, which was covering Meng Shizhuang's chest, slid down and stopped at Meng Shizhuang's waist. He pressed down slightly, allowing Meng Shizhuang to sit astride his thighs.
This is a sign of weakness.
But Meng Shizhuang, whether too absorbed in memories or simply exhausted, didn't react at all. He simply pressed closer to Bian Hongqiu, their ears rubbing against his, the sweet scent of jasmine dispelling the bloody odor of hibiscus that had always accompanied his memory.
He belatedly added his interest: "Do you like this flower? Summer is here, and the jasmine in Daohai City is in full bloom."
Bian Hongqiu rubbed his Adam's apple with the tip of her chin.
"Asking after delivering the gift doesn't seem sincere at all... It's just so-so. I'm not the picky type who would ask for trouble."
That's what I said.
I don't know who was making trouble at night, complaining that the candles were dim, and after lighting the lamps, he complained that the bronze mirrors were not clear enough. He asked for this and that, and it was endless and could never be satisfied.
But Meng Shizhuang is still a little self-conscious.
His relationship with Bian Hongqiu was publicized to everyone around him. Except for the lack of official documentation, everything else was complete. At a time like this, according to what Lao Ju had taught him, one couldn't decide one's own life and property. And he, not only couldn't scrape together a dime of silver, but he also pledged his only life today—a decision he'd made on impulse, driven by a whirlwind of emotions.
On the way back, he understood it very well.
This decision may have formed in his mind the night he left Sujian Mountain.
He, the people on this mountain who want to seek justice, and his tormented heart will eventually meet their end.
Meng Shizhuang's gaze fell back on her right hand, which had been disabled for many years. "Bian Hongqiu... Your Highness, Your Highness."
He sometimes called Bian Hongqiu "Your Highness", and Bian Hongqiu sometimes wanted him to call her "Your Highness".
The original words were "I also want to experience the feeling of being a husband", but Meng Shizhuang refused to call him that. She said that if Bian Hongqiu really wanted to experience what it felt like to be the "master of the house", he could learn from Bian Hongqiu's subordinates and call him "Your Highness"... This was very effective and seemed more like a sign of weakness than Bian Hongqiu's ingenious trick of "touching him" and acting like a hooligan.
Meng Shizhuang noticed that he called out softly twice, and Bian Hongqiu's body suddenly went limp. "Didn't Your Highness say before that I could 'move the world with one sword'? Was that just a polite remark?"
Of course not.
Meng Shizhuang had been practicing medicine for the past ten years, perhaps without a proper weapon, so he'd made do with his swords and knives, but he'd never slacked off in his practice. He'd previously earned praise for his sparring with the soldiers on Huangque Island. During the final months of his time in the Western Territory, Bian Hongqiu had spent every spare moment chasing Meng Shizhuang around to watch him practice, showering him with praise.
He also fought with Meng Shizhuang twice. In Shao Zheng's words, Meng Shizhuang's swordsmanship was clear and sharp, making him hard to beat.
But how can this be treated as a competition between comrades?
Bian Hongqiu: "You said you wouldn't lose, but then you said your hand might be broken. How could I not panic?"
Meng Shizhuang: "Because there are so many of them."
Whether alive or dead, if they pressed on him, he would probably be sent directly to see the King of Hell.
Ever since meeting Meng Shizhuang again on Huangque Island, Bian Hongqiu knew that her beloved, who had "experienced all kinds of evil" in her youth, had been completely purged of all her ugliness—even though he was almost self-pitying, feeling that he was still the flawed person he had been all those years ago. Now, even his words were harsh, and he wouldn't even tell a lie.
Bian Hongqiu knew that Meng Shizhuang did not only report good news but also bad news, nor did she deceive herself.
But unless he falls in love with someone else, it is impossible for him to remain calm.
He said, "This is the first time I've heard of a life-or-death plea between one and many. How shameless! Who did you make this pact with? I'll bring everyone from Prince Liang's mansion to reason with them."
Meng Shizhuang thought of the simple little courtyard where several people swung their swords from their sleeves, and suddenly laughed.
"That's probably going to be difficult. There's no time for reasoning. I just hope they can't turn me into ashes right away."
Bian Hongqiu finally ruthlessly pulled the man out of his arms and stared at him calmly.
Meng Shizhuang regained some strength, met his disapproving gaze with a smile, and pressed, "Well, let me think about it. There's a saying... Self-knowledge is the most valuable thing for a person. I'm very strong now. Even ten of them wouldn't be my match." He didn't lie, and he didn't exaggerate or conceit. He was very concise with his words. But Bian Hongqiu had never seen such a self-confidence as this one, almost outwardly.
But this was the confidence his sword training gave him, not the confidence he needed to completely confront his old enemy. If he could truly eliminate all this through force, he wouldn't have suffered a nightmare on Huangque Island for ten years. So Bian Hongqiu didn't let him fool him: "What do you owe them?"
Meng Shizhuang's expression darkened instantly: "Conscience."
"What do they owe you?"
"...That's much lighter than what I said. It's just some goodwill." Meng Shizhuang said casually.
At this moment, Bian Hongqiu hated fate and destiny for the first time.
He remembered what Lao Ju had said, that Meng Shizhuang was very soft-hearted. So, to him, the past that had left him restless was like a bowl of water filled with sand, filled to the brim with not a drop of water left. Yet, he chewed the sand raw, grateful for the rough, moist texture of the water—and yet, there were those who wanted to twist his gratitude, turning him into a demon. If only he had met Meng Shizhuang sooner, if only he had been able to participate in the youth that Meng Shizhuang couldn't describe in words...
Bian Hongqiu also suddenly laughed.
Meng Shizhuang thought he had been coaxed into submission and asked, "What are you laughing at?"
Bian Hongqiu spoke frankly: "I was just thinking, if I could have met you earlier, I would definitely..."
"how?"
"I originally wanted to say that I would protect you completely, but that's not possible. I'm still a flower that falls in the wind... Ah, you've suffered so much, and even turning back time might not change it. Will you give up just because of this?"
Meng Shizhuang reached out and grasped his chin. "Why should I turn back time? I walked this path on my own. Even if my conscience aches, I don't regret it. Just like you and I, if time could turn back, I would still go to Huangquezhou and not hide from you. Your Highness, I will not admit defeat while you are here. I promised my life to someone else without authorization. Even if I won't lose, I'm sorry. You must forgive me."
Then he lightly rubbed Bian Hongqiu's lips.
Only then did Bian Hongqiu realize that there were such blunt words to seek forgiveness.
It was rare for him not to chase after her for a kiss: "You said so."
"The grave will be ready within three days. Once your affairs are settled, we'll report to the capital and return to Shangyang. I'll take you to meet my father. I've never met him myself, though. We can go to his grave and pay our respects to heaven and earth... and to Uncle Ju as well, but there might not be a veil. I've only embroidered a mandarin duck."
Meng Shizhuang was almost melted by the pleading light in his eyes.
He lingered on Bian Hongqiu's lips, his voice soft and coaxing, his eyes filled with the same tears as Bian Hongqiu's: "I saw it secretly, it was very beautiful and lifelike. If you marry into my family, I will be the one to wear the wedding dress that day."
This meant that Bian Hongqiu had agreed to go to the appointment to sign the life and death agreement.
He took the plain sword from Meng Shizhuang's hand, saying that he wanted to find a new scabbard so that Meng Shizhuang would not be at a disadvantage. Meng Shizhuang let him do as he pleased, not caring about the scabbard at all, as he didn't rely on it to fight anyway.
Song Jingyan acted quickly, securing connections at the Daohaicheng Prefecture within two days. Meng Shizhuang was free to choose any plot of land on Canglin Mountain he wished to occupy. Prefect Lin, seemingly conspiring with Song Jingyan, personally wrote a deed, brought several bottles of his prized wine, and summoned several accomplished Taoist priests, offering to select a prime feng shui site for the King of Liang's benefactor.
——The name given by Bian Hongqiu was that one of his benefactors wanted to build a tomb here.
It's not really a lie.
Meng Shizhuang didn't consider other places.
He had left Sujian Mountain without much understanding. The sect was a prison of accumulated hatred, and below the mountain lay unknown dangers. He had walked up and down the mountain twice, and the only place he had any respect for was the Earth God Temple, smaller than a doghouse. Mortals dared not disturb the gods without permission, so he buried Lao Hu there.
After finding a good place, Meng Shizhuang started working immediately.
He dug through the mound all night. It only took a few shovelfuls of dirt before he touched the bones of his deceased loved one. He was injured at the time, and his right hand couldn't help him. He only dug a shallow pit. Ten years later, there was no chance of anything left except the nearly dried bones. After touching the bones, he discarded the shovel and dug with his hands. When Bian Hongqiu, pale-faced, came up the mountain to bring him food in the morning, he carefully carried "Old Hu" out of the pit in one piece.
He drove Bian Hongqiu away in a very ungrateful manner, but left the meal behind.
Then he sat cross-legged between a pile of white bones and a tightly sealed urn, took the wine Bian Hongqiu had specially prepared from the food box, and sprinkled a little on the dirt in front of each person. He still couldn't speak to Lao Hu, so he patted Lao Ju's urn a few times, neither lightly nor heavily. "Is this okay? Have you two seen each other now?"
The sunlight was divided by the dense forest. Meng Shizhuang rolled up his sleeves to his arms, the bandage on his right hand no longer visible. He rested one hand casually on his waist, pondering the hole he had dug, wondering how to bury the two men together. He simply deepened and widened the hole, still large enough for a grown man. As he dug, he excused himself: "As promised, I'm still a cripple, so don't be so picky. Ashes to dust, ashes to dust. I'm going to marry into someone else's family soon, and I might not come back for a year..."
He kept on rambling.
It wasn't that he didn't want to get an extra coffin for Old Ju and Old Hu. After all, he'd already taken advantage of Bian Hongqiu's favor and was living off her, so what difference would a couple more coffins make? But Old Ju had previously told him, when he was bedridden, not to waste his energy on the coffins. He should just burn them and let the ashes fly into the sky, letting Meng Shizhuang breathe a sigh of relief after his death.
Meng Shizhuang dug her hands full of blisters and raised her arm to wipe her eyes expressionlessly: "Bah, old man, I won't let you have your wish!"
After digging the pit, he first carried the whole and broken "Old Hu" into the pit. He had buried it shallowly, and patches of red and green vines entwined around Old Hu's bones, a dazzling display of color in the sparse sunlight. He didn't bother removing them. He placed Lao Ju's urn on Old Hu's empty heart, then placed two skeleton hands on the urn and tied a rather sloppy bow with the vine strips on the hands.
When it was time to fill the soil, Meng Shizhuang squatted down with his hand on his chin. After waiting for a while and seeing no thunder, he made the final decision: "Since you are willing, let's do it."
Halfway through filling the hole, Meng Shizhuang remembered the two knives he'd kept beside him all day. Liu Lang had connected the blades for him and carefully stored them away. He inserted one horizontally into the soil, one on the left and one on the right, and continued filling the hole. As he was about to seal the hole, he recalled the calligraphy he'd written about Keju back then, seemingly to his own annoyance.
Meng Shizhuang really didn't want to do it, but she put down her shovel anyway. She looked around at the masterpiece, which was almost as intact as a normal tomb. Itching to get to the bottom of it, she took her sword and headed up the mountain. The mountain road hadn't changed in years, except for the more weeds and trees along the roadside, which completely obscured the road surface.
He walked alone for a quarter of an hour and found that even if he had only walked this road twice, he would never forget how to get there.
And so, he walked all the way to the front of the sect. The twelve gates, once so majestic to him, had been dismantled piecemeal and carried off with stolen goods. The mountain gate must have been looted, finally filled with unbridled greenery. Just as Meng Shizhuang was about to slash his way through with his sword, he noticed a well-trodden path to the side.
He was slightly alert, but did not look back.
Most of the houses on the mountain collapsed, and the living space was also destroyed.
This was not beyond Meng Shizhuang's expectations, as Ju was the most dilapidated place and should have collapsed long ago.
He was surprisingly lucky today. After searching in the ruins for a while with his scabbard, he found a paper scroll. Although it was rotten inside and out, Meng Shizhuang was very sure that it was the calligraphy that Lao Ju often looked at. Perhaps it was not worth much because it was obvious to the naked eye, so it was left here to be exposed to the wind and sun.
He cut a piece from the hem of his shirt, wrapped the letter, and headed back halfway up the mountain. Just as he reached the area in front of the mountain gate, he ran into Ke Congzhou and the others who had come for their appointment. Meng Shizhuang observed their expressions, said nothing, and tucked the letter into his arms. He and the others, one after the other, headed to the "crooked platform" on Sujian Mountain, where the disciples had previously competed.
Ke Congzhou's temperament has gradually become more gloomy over the years. At this moment, he didn't have any emotions and just quietly observed Meng Shizhuang; A Wu was like a shadow following behind him.
Haike and Yao Qinian remained inseparable. Yao Qinian, whose love and hate were unclear, glared at Meng Shizhuang with hatred. Haike, having deduced all the past but still unwilling to accept it, spoke first, fair and square: "We, the three of us, and you..."
Meng Shizhuang secretly squeezed the white sword hard, and said calmly, "You all come together."
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