293 Untitled (1/2)

One decides how much importance it holds.

The rain seemingly hit down with the force of a bullet, determined to flood the streets for the entire night.

The drenched Meng Fuyao stayed in the equally soaked Zhangsun Wuji's arms and coughed non-stop. A dark mouthful of blood accompanied every cough. As she coughed, she took Zhangsun Wuji pulse. He opened his eyes, pressed down on her hand, and smiled.

Meng Fuyao gazed into his eyes. It was a calm, abstruse sea. All the pain and suffering in the world were nothing but a sea breeze, teasing the waves as they pass.

That gaze told her: All the pain and suffering will eventually disappear into nothingness. Love, hatred, grievances, and grudges will be buried in its grave. No one should carry a coffin as they move ahead. No one should fall because of a mistake that was not their fault.

Choosing family over strangers is but human nature. What is there to blame?

In a difficult position, yet you still helped her out of righteousness. What fault is there?

The rain continued to fall as longing filled the air.

Sometimes, no words were needed to comfort. A mere gaze, a mere act was enough to show that he cared, he understood.

Regardless of the perils, he faced that collision head-on. Even though he knew of the dangers, he did not avoid. That act of his shattered icy wall that formed in her heart. That gaze of his continued to focus on her.

Meng Fuyao slowly looked up and welcomed such a gaze. Amidst the pittering and pattering rain, everything he wanted to express could be read clearly. Every word entered her heart, so deeply, so silently.

Gradually, immersed in that soothing gaze, her bloodlust eased, and her heart calmed. The dark, grey world previously engulfing her entire being was now replaced with colorful surroundings as the flowers gently bloomed.

That flower finally bloomed in that bloody storm. Though slow, it was not too late.

She finally looked up and gave him the tranquil smile he wanted to see.

That smile was laced with melancholy, yet, it was refreshing and more radiant than before. It was just like the wild plants growing in the garden, fresh and clean after braving a storm.

An ablution, from her heart to her body.

Zhangsun Wuji smiled as he closed his eyes. Meng Fuyao smiled too, reaching out to cover his face from the pouring rain.

The hidden guards and Tie Cheng rushed over to help the two up. Meng Fuyao glanced over at Tie Cheng, wanting to console him but her exhausted and abused body didn't allow for that. Her heavy eyelids snapped shut.

…

The cave was warm, toasty, and clean. From far away, the melodic sound of birds chirping could be heard.

Zhangsun Wuji woke up. It was a peaceful atmosphere.

The scent of the soft grass wafted to his nose. She was beside him, tear streaks on her face still apparent, yet, she was holding onto his hand with a small smile.

'She's here, breathing and alive.'

Zhangsun Wuji looked at her and then continued looking at her. He quickly closed his eyes as though such luxuries shouldn't be used up all at once. He gently caressed her hair, every touch overflowing with love and tenderness.

'… What can I do for her? This girl that suffered so much internal turmoil because of me?' Zhangsun Wuji pondered.

He always felt that it was not enough… Not enough…

In the end, he couldn't bear it and opened his eyes, perusing every aspect of her.

That girl was pale. Her eyelashes were long yet unable to hide the purplish undertone beneath her tired eyes. Yet, her expression was one of quietude.

Only the Heavens knew how much pain and turmoil was undergone in exchange for this peace.

But that was her destiny, her fated obstacles. In the restless world filled with people who act out of self-interest, everyone mastered the arts of protecting their selfishness and took that for granted. She was the only one who detested that natural selfishness of hers and for that, was painfully tortured.

But that pain was not because of her mistake—she was never in the wrong. The only wrong was for the Heavens to have gifted her a personality eager to uphold justice and was filled with so much passion; one that would not allow her to remain indifferent to the deaths of the innocent. Even without any repercussions, she had inflicted upon herself the most agonizing punishment for what could take her down was not any form of martial arts, but the guilt and self-blame in her heart.

And this was why she was Meng Fuyao.

The irreplaceable Meng Fuyao.

The most radiant, the bravest, the Meng Fuyao that had countless men under her thumb.

Even if he had to sacrifice, he wanted to have every part of her—the most complete, the most honest Meng Fuyao.

Zhangsun Wuji smiled and wanted to take Meng Fuyao's pulse out of habit. But that hand stopped him, and that girl grumbled, ”Enough.”

Meng Fuyao woke up.