Chapter 19
The continuous drizzle fell, and the rain grew heavier and heavier. In the darkness of night, the rain obscured visibility, and the hunting grounds were shrouded in darkness, with the shadows of the trees appearing as chaotic ghostly figures in the rain.
Ziyan waited outside the tent for half a day. She was anxious until she heard the sound of horses' hooves in the distance and saw people coming out of the hunting grounds.
Soon it was her young master. He stood tall, clad in a silver robe. Lu Xuejin's dark hair was soaked by the rain; raindrops fell on her long, wet eyelashes, washing over her amber eyes, making them appear cold and chilling. The young man's slender fingers half-protected the person in his arms, blood dripping down. She recognized him; it was the Ninth Prince, who had been struck in the chest by an arrow.
She was startled, wondering what had happened.
Lu Xuejin: "Send someone to invite Physician Jia."
Ziyan knew she couldn't delay, so she agreed and hurried over.
The camp was brightly lit all night. It was raining heavily when Physician Jia stepped into the mud, splashing mud and water several feet high. Ignoring his soaked robes, he lifted the curtain and entered the camp to rescue the person.
A rustling sound.
It's raining.
When it rains, Lidu is also known as Lotus City, the land of bamboo and lotus roots. Vast fields of lotus flowers bloom in the moat, their white petals tinged with pale pink, their leaves a vibrant green stretching to the horizon. Dark clouds shroud the entire city, making the fish in the river clearly visible. The lotus flowers in the ponds are veiled in a layer of rain mist, half-open and withered in the water, creating a scene of withered lotus.
On rainy days, his mother would go to the awning boat to listen to the woman playing the pipa. The sounds were all tunes he couldn't understand. He had a rudimentary understanding of the Hu language, but his mother knew it all.
His uncle didn't intend to teach him either; he just threw him fish food and chased after the fish with him to feed them.
"Yue'er, look at these carp. Doesn't the small one at the top look like you? It has spotted patterns and it bit its companions several times. I saw it all just now," his mother said with a smile.
"You can't win, yet you insist on fighting. It's so small; it's destined to be swallowed." The uncle said.
He didn't argue with his uncle upon hearing this. He watched as the little fish was surrounded and bitten, struggling and about to turn belly up. He gently turned it over with a lotus leaf, and the little fish immediately regained its strength and chased after its companions.
“Look, everything’s fine,” he said.
Murong Yue saw himself through the water. His face was still youthful, the outline of a young man just beginning to emerge. The person in the water had a pair of beautiful fan-shaped eyes. Because his gaze was too sharp and piercing, coupled with his thin, cold lips that were always slightly upturned, he appeared gloomy and domineering. He had a pair of prominent canine teeth, and his fierce appearance was revealed when he smiled.
When he traveled with his mother, she adorned his ears with earrings. The long, vermilion-like pendants swayed, making him appear like a wicked child guarding a bodhisattva. When emotionless, he was handsome and lively; but once emotion was revealed, he immediately exposed his true form as a demonic being.
The awning boat that sheltered him from the wind and rain in his dream suddenly vanished, and the fish and lotus leaves all drifted away from him. Only the torrential rain poured down, soaking him completely. He felt a sudden pain in his chest, and the abrupt pain jolted him awake from his drowsy state.
He remembered what had happened at the hunting grounds.
His mother had passed away, and the pipa player had switched to singing a lament for a fallen kingdom. The mournful melody echoed as an arrow pierced his chest, blood dripping from his clothes, attracting fish. He also saw a dried-up white tiger skin. The tiger's ruptured eyes stared at him, its body submerged in water, emitting a foul stench; the lake had become the waters of the underworld. The white tiger and his mother were inside; he was outside.
He saw the little fish again; it was bitten and mutilated, and it was already dead.
The little fish's tail fin was bitten off, and it was exhausted, becoming a dead fish in the underworld. Nevertheless, when the surrounding fish swarmed around it, it immediately attacked fiercely.
His blood stained the entire river red.
There was no one else there; it was quiet and still. He looked up and could only see patches of wind and rain; dark clouds covered the sky, turning it a gloomy gray. Trees swayed among them—that was the distant scenery. His mother, uncle, and boatman had all vanished.
In a daze, he glimpsed a figure. A dark shadow clung to the wall, and gradually, a woman's face appeared. She wore a light pink dress, with willow-leaf eyebrows and phoenix eyes, exuding an air of noble composure. The woman smiled at him, a smile surging from long-forgotten memories. It was his elder sister, Murong Qing.
Murong Qing was feeding the fish in this windy and rainy place. She quietly looked at the dead fish that had been turned over, and placed a few lotus seeds in her palm.
"Eldest sister... what are you doing here?" He heard his own voice.
His and his elder sister's figures were reflected in the lake. His face was intact, but his elder sister's face was blank.
“I’ve been here all along, for quite some time now.” Murong Qing turned her head slightly to look at him. “But Yue’er, you suddenly barged in. Did you run into something troublesome?”
He had been corresponding with his elder sister for many years, and now that he had met her in person, he felt a strange sensation.
A flash of silver light appeared before her eyes, and Murong Qing held a mirror in her hand. It was a pure silver heart-protecting mirror, adorned with emerald peonies. Now, the mirror was shattered in several places.
“…A worry,” Murong Yue pondered. Seeing that his elder sister had calmed down a bit, he said to Murong Qing, “I always feel like I’m walking alone on the road, not knowing where the road ahead leads.”
"I always think of my father, mother, brother and elder sister."
Time seemed to stand still here; there were no blue skies or white clouds, only this small patch of land. Only he and his elder sister were here, which made him feel at peace.
With a "plop," Murong Qing tossed a lotus seed into the lake, and the pale, dead fish thrashed to the surface. The reflected dark clouds vanished in an instant, rainwater seeping into their images. Ripples spread, and the reflections in the pond dissipated.
"..." Murong Qing didn't look at him, turning the lotus seeds in her palm. "You always remember the past... Look at this churning Yellow Springs water, it still flows by. Just move forward, and you will naturally know the answer."
"The person in the dream is emaciated and pale. Do not be tempted to leap into the water upon seeing their reflection, for beneath the water lies a bottomless abyss."
Murong Qing looked towards the distant horizon, his features gradually disappearing, leaving behind a lingering echo.
"—Let's go back."
"Your Highness... Ninth Prince." A low voice fell into my ear.
The clear, melodious voice used to make his heart race. But now, as his heart pounded, a sharp, tearing pain shot through him, as if a layer of fascia had been ripped away, pulling him to the brink of agony.
He clenched his teeth, a sharp, aching pain mingling with the metallic taste of blood. Fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead, and with each breath, the wound in his chest flared with a new wave of sharp pain. His breathing became heavy, as if he wanted to tear the pain apart.
At this moment, he knew without even thinking that his face was terrifying. His jaw was tense, and the sweat in his eyes stung him. Suddenly, a force came from his palm and touched a cool, withered fingertip.
"Fortunately, his internal organs were not damaged... He had a chest protector, so the arrow tip missed by an inch. However, the wound is too deep... He will still have to face death. I am stitching up his wound now. If his wound gets wet, will it cause any long-term health problems... We can only wait and see."
"I see. Thank you, Lord Jia. He's only seventeen; children can't take pain. I hope you'll be gentle... What if he develops a chronic condition?"
"It's a miracle he survived. If he had been left with a chronic condition, his blood and energy would have been weaker, and he might have developed rheumatism from time to time."
The needle and thread touched his wound, sending a piercing pain through him, causing the veins on his neck to bulge. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he opened his eyes. In his brown pupils, he saw his own reflection, now brooding and furious with pain.
The young man's eyes were calm. He had always been like this, unperturbed by anything. Now, his reflection, like a gentle spring enveloping him, revealed a hint of worry. He noticed the young man's furrowed brows as the other lowered his head to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead, his movements serious and meticulous.
"Your Highness is awake?" Lu Xuejin brushed a handkerchief across his face, obscuring his vision so he couldn't see the flesh and blood pierced by the needle and thread.
"You heard everything just now? Don't worry... I assure Your Highness, with me here, nothing will happen to you."
His hand was grasped, and the young man guided him to touch his heart. He touched Lu Xuejin's heart and felt the young man's heartbeat through his clothes, intense and clear.
Lu Xuejin. Lu Xuejin. Lu Xuejin. ... Changyou.
He silently recited the young man's name in his heart, which seemed to alleviate some of the pain and keep him from fainting and returning to that rain-soaked awning boat.
"Young Master," Ziyan called out.
Lu Xuejin didn't leave the man's side for even a moment. He stared intently at Doctor Jia's movements, so focused on his own observation that he didn't notice the sweat on his palms. The boy in his arms was pale and almost fainted from the pain.
He saw that Murong Yue had bitten his lip until it bled, but he didn't utter a sound of pain. He couldn't help but sigh in his heart, and he couldn't help but feel a little tempted.
The handkerchief wiped away the blood and sweat from the boy in her arms. Ziyan called his name again, and he finally came to his senses.
“…Young Master,” Ziyan said, “Lord Song has arrived.”
Ziyan's expression wasn't good, so he handed the person over to her. There was a commotion outside the tent. He lifted the tent flap and saw a light drizzle outside. The person braved the rain to come to his tent, accompanied by a group of guards.
Outside the tent, Song Zhao held up a bamboo-ribbed umbrella with thirty-six sections, looking at him respectfully yet coldly in the night.
Song Zhao: "I have come here by imperial decree. The deaths of the three court officials may be related to the Ninth Prince. The Ninth Prince must accompany us to the criminal trial."
As soon as the person was brought back, they were taken away from him. It was truly... not a moment's delay.
Lu Xuejin's eyes flashed with a cold light. He smiled at Song Zhao, his smile clear and captivating, casting a shadow as he glanced sideways.
"Lord Song has come in the rain to arrest people... He has truly gone to great lengths. Today I will guard this place, and no one is allowed to enter this camp. Even if it is His Majesty's order, it is too much to ask of anyone, and I am afraid I cannot obey."
Lu Xuejin: "Lord Song... please return."
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