341 Untitled (1/2)

And this parting had been eternal.

Many years later, knowing that she would never be able to be reunited with him, nor would she ever be able to return, Xu Wan was still determined to appease the eternal pain in her fiance's heart. A kind-hearted girl, she had hoped that through this method, she would be able to give him peace.

Even so, she had been too late.

That voice of forgiveness could no longer be heard.

Meng Fuyao shut her eyes, remembering the man in the Guanyuan County Prison. He was so filthy that his scar was no longer visible, yet fate had arranged for her to meet him, arranged for her to remove her mask before him. Perhaps, that was Xu Wan's arrangement, using this method to give him an answer, and also to use that chance meeting in the prison to mark the true beginning where Meng Fuyao would finally start to face her true self that she had been avoiding all this while.

As for how that person knew that Xu Wan was buried beneath Yanling Palace, or how he had landed up in Guanyuan from Dan City and remained in the prison for so many years, these were all questions that nobody knew the answers to anymore, disappearing with his mortal body. Twenty-odd years ago, he had sent his fiancee into the palace and attained the chance to survive, twenty-odd years later, she had died a tragic death, and he had met her daughter and returned his life back.

It was but Heaven's will.

Meng Fuyao sighed a little sadly and folded the fabric back together. 'That couple should have reunited in Heaven by now, right? Hopefully, they'll be able to steer clear from any royal family in their next life.'

The sky was beginning to darken, and fires were started, dotting the plains and enveloping it in a golden hue against the lush green, their colors vibrant like a sea of gold.

Meng Fuyao picked herself up and was about to go and eat when her eyes locked onto something.

In front of her, under the bright, round moon, someone was performing a dance of swords.

That person wore loose robes that flowed elegantly with every move, and under the pale golden moonlight, his movements were deft and agile, his sword reflecting brilliantly in the night. He was just a silhouette seen from afar, yet his speed and elegance were unrivaled, clearly obvious despite the distance, a perfect harmony of strength and grace. He looked like a jade-skinned celestial who had descended upon the plains.

The wind swept around Wuji, and the moon enveloped the wild greenery as the figure danced with a pale black sword beneath the jade-white moon, beautiful as a painting, one with his sword.

She seemed to have seen such a scene before…

Meng Fuyao sat down numbly, following the person's movements as time reversed to two years ago when she had seen this for the first time. Suddenly, her eyes started to water.

The first time, first time, two years ago, she had been suffering from betrayal and hurt in the back cave of Xuanyun. At the time, he had been in the opposite cave, drinking and dancing with his sword.

The scene had left her thunderstruck, not knowing that that silhouette would soon fill such a big space in her life.

Now, his swordplay had reached an even more advanced level, yet her feelings were now complicated and no longer as frank and honest as before.

Her eyes watered, and her vision began to blur, and when she rubbed her eyes and looked again, the person dancing under the moon had already disappeared.

The fire before her suddenly crackled even brighter as several branches fell from above, making the burning intensify. Meng Fuyao did not look up; instead, she stared at the falling branches quietly.

Suddenly, a purple robe appeared before her eyes, decorated with elegant silver embroidery, the silky fabric illuminating slightly and flowing before her like a river current.

The faint sound of tree branches moving could be heard above her; she could imagine a certain person fooling around without following any script. He must be lying on the brittle, thin branches, light as a cloud, frivolously throwing branches down, albeit with precision. Thereafter, the falling branches increased in number, slowly forming a pyramid structure, causing the fire to burn even more brilliantly.

Meng Fuyao clenched her fist, unmoved. 'I know everything, I don't care at all, I'll see how long you can keep this up for.'

The person above her chuckled softly as Meng Fuyao counted silently, 'One, two, three…'

She hadn't managed to count to three.

A certain person had fixed the bridge earlier, and a low, peaceful voice drifted from within the treetop.

”Miss, the wintry night is harsh, I'm very cold.”

'How adept at memorizing stage lines…' Meng Fuyao bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her laughter and straighten her sword, acting severe. 'Act, I'll tell you to act, I'll see how long you can keep this up for?'

The purple robe in front of her lowered slightly; it seemed that Zhangsun Wuji was adjusting the height of the branch so that he could successfully land beside a certain uncooperative someone. However, he still maintained his nonchalant posture, high up on the tree, his eyes flitting up and down her body.

Meng Fuyao twisted away and crouched into a ball, tucking her head in and not replying.

”Miss, are you cold?”

Meng Fuyao unbuttoned the topmost button on her shirt, indicating that she was very hot at the moment—it was the middle of June, it would be strange if one didn't feel hot.