177 Untitled (1/2)

The person that Meng Fuyao had met and the way and methods in which she had met the person were the most correct.

Yet fate would always find ways to play with her—she was unable to have the person she had the fortune of meeting.

Meng Fuyao blinked several times, desperately fighting the tears welling in her eyes as she watched Yan Jingchen's solitary and somber figure under the light. Pursing her lips, she wrote on Zhangsun Wuji's palm, 'I want to kill Mist.'

Zhangsun Wuji paused momentarily before replying, ”Fine.”

Silently sucking in a breath, Meng Fuyao smiled.

'Yan Jingchen, I killed your wife, now I can only kill your master as compensation.'

Yan Jingchen was not aware that at this moment two people had made a decision regarding his life while watching him perform the soul ritual for his dead wife. He scattered the paper money quietly, the cool jade container becoming slightly warm in his embrace. This was the first time he had ever held Pei Yuan so closely.

That arrogant woman eventually nestled quietly in his arms in this manner.

The mouth of the container was frost-like cold, like the snow of the previous year's winter, landing on Yan Jingchen as he drank wine in solitary, the ground littered with empty jars—that time, he had just met Mist not long ago, and had the ”fortune” of being selected by him to be his disciple. In the beginning he enjoyed himself, but it soon became a nightmare, and even worse was that this was made known to several fellow disciples of noble descent, who slowly spread an inside joke within the noble Yan Jing clan—using ambiguous tones, awkward glances, sneers, and other mocking gestures to express themselves.

That kind of joke was the same as placing a formless wall in front of him, despite being unable to see or feel it, it stood there coldly in front of him, and he had been hurt many times by it. Yet, no amount of energy could break it. The tongues of others had always been the greatest trap on earth, killing without counting, and the more one struggled, the more one was hurt by it.

Then, she appeared.

There were changes in the palace of Taiyuan, and after the country was rebuilt, she appeared for the first time.

He had thought that she wanted to mock him and used his sleeve to cover his face, but instead, she had sat down and, in a rather uncouth manner, grabbed a jar of wine and finished it in one gulp.

After the wine had been finished, she flung the jar away and stared into the mountain scenery, partially hidden by clouds. Following the sound of the jar smashing into pieces at the bottom of the cliff, she had said, ”I'll marry you.”

He had turned to look at her in shock, but she had not been looking at him; she was staring straight ahead with a quiet determination. She had steadied her voice and stood up, saying, ”Come at my clan and apply in three days.”

He had been afraid to apply to the Pei family again, afraid of being humiliated once more, but Mist had been happy, and he had said, ”It's rare to have someone who is willing. Actually, I don't really care about this, you're the one that's easily ashamed. Since she's willing to marry you, then your life is already complete. I'll personally send the invite for you.” Following that, he left. When he came back, he happily told Yan Jingchen, ”Prepare to get married.”

Only after that he realized that Pei Yuan had used those three days to console a raging General Pei and that she had also discussed things with Mist. As for what she had sacrificed to reach such an outcome, he would never be able to know the answer.

He would never know how she felt, being husband and wife yet having to sleep in different rooms, and that she would always sit alone by a flame, watching the candlelight in his room.

After that, the rumors spread—that Pei Yuan's marrying down was her biggest mistake.

How much she had sacrificed for him was how much he owed her.

She loved him, he loved another her, yet she loved another him.

How many lives had been played by fate?

Yan Jingchen gently touched the jade container and placed his cheek on it. The slight coolness of the container felt familiar, similar to her temperament, carrying a cold, piercing pride that was unkind, even poisonous, yet only he knew that she had given her entire life's passion to him.

Just that from then on, the single, flickering flame that gave him warmth was extinguished by the coldness of fate.

Yan Jingchen hugged the jade container tightly and meekly turned back. The people watching him on the wall continued to watch his retreating figure sorrowfully. Even Lord Yuan Bao had wriggled out of Zhangsun Wuji's sleeve and nestled itself between the two of them as it watched Yan Jingchen scatter paper money as he left, its round, black eyes moistening slightly as it thought, 'Back then at Qiongcang, that beautiful and brilliant black pearl…'

Yan Jingchen's shadow was long and solitary behind him.

Yet, the night was interrupted by a raucous noise.

There were two people, singing and laughing loudly as they stumbled into the alley and the crisp sound broke the melancholic silence.

”Big Brother, let's drink… let's drink another three jars!”

”I'm not drunk… hic… I'm not drunk!”

”Don't… avoid me… You despicable… I'm as pretty as a flower, yet you avoid me!”

”Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!”

Ya Lanzhu laughed loudly as she sang, stumbling zigzaggedly. She was laughing gleefully, and the burden was on her unlucky drinking buddy who was supporting her arm carefully, swaying with her.

Sitting on the wall, Meng Fuyao narrowed her eyes. 'Since when did Ya Lanzhu go drinking with Yun Hen? How did she get so drunk?'