Chapter 113 High Mountains and Long Rivers, Farewell Forever…

Chapter 113: Mountains High, Waters Long, Never to Meet Again…

Zhang Jinghuai watched Shen Huixue in silence, every subtle change in her expression registering in his eyes.

The tell-tale marks of her demon heritage, once so conspicuous on her body, had vanished—a transformation clearly not due to her becoming human.

"Can't you stay?" Zhang Jinghuai asked.

Shen Huixue shook her head. "No."

"Is it because I didn't come for you after you were captured?"

She seemed taken aback by his question, pausing before replying, "It has nothing to do with that."

"Then why? Is it because I wasn't good enough to you, and you resent me?"

Many truths lay unspoken between them, though both were keenly aware. To voice them now would only deepen the pain. Yet, with their parting imminent, Shen Huixue remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking her mind.

"I don't resent you. On the contrary, I've always remembered that you saved me, sparing me from a far more humiliating fate. I have always been grateful to you."

"Only gratitude?"

Shen Huixue lowered her gaze. After a long pause, she said, "You know, Zhang Jinghuai, love means nothing between us. You wouldn't change for me, and when I gain the power, I won't stop for you either."

Did she love Zhang Jinghuai? Of course, she did.

In all their years together, every act of his had left an indelible mark on her heart. Over time, through countless moments, her affection had only deepened.

She knew, too, that Zhang Jinghuai loved her. He had broken many rules for her, keeping her by his side despite the Duke of Li's strong disapproval.

She still recalled the time he returned from an assignment, wounded, yet still remembered to bring her a gift.

That hairpin had been her favorite for a long time, but when she left the capital, she had left it behind.

Yet, none of this was paramount to them.

They would not choose each other over what truly mattered most in their lives.

Zhang Jinghuai opened his mouth, wanting to say he could, but the truth was, he couldn't.

Everything he possessed came from his family, and he was bound to repay them. He could not afford a single misstep, nor could he abandon the entire Duke of Li's estate for Shen Huixue.

Standing there, he could almost feel the crushing weight of his family's expectations pressing down on him, a heavy burden that made his heart ache.

Shen Huixue looked into his eyes and said, "Zhang Jinghuai, I wish you a smooth journey. And I wish you all your heart's desires."

She genuinely hoped Zhang Jinghuai would always remain as he was—a favored son of heaven, never having to bow his head to anyone.

"I... wish you a safe journey," Zhang Jinghuai finally managed, forcing himself to remain rooted, resisting the futile urge to hold her back.

"Mountains high and waters long, Zhang Jinghuai. We shall never meet again." Shen Huixue turned, tears tracing paths down her flushed cheeks.

In this life, they would never see each other again.

Returning to Shen Qingwu's side, Shen Huixue addressed A Chan and Chen Hui, "A Chan, Hui Niang, let's go."

"Be careful on your journey."

"Safe travels."

Shen Qingwu took a few steps, then suddenly turned back. "A Chan, I hope you find joy in all your days to come."

Your happiness would surely bring joy to Liu Feng as well.

A Chan paused, then smiled. "I will."

The mother and daughter gradually disappeared into the thick fog, their figures finally vanishing from sight.

Even after A Chan and Chen Hui had returned inside the city gates, Zhang Jinghuai remained standing, gazing down the road Shen Huixue had taken.

After seeing off Shen Huixue and her mother, A Chan returned home, the house feeling eerily quiet. Suddenly, she no longer wished to remain in Xiling.

"Hui Niang, let's buy some local Xiling specialties, pack up, and prepare to return to the capital."

"Is Lord Bai returning to the capital?" Chen Hui asked.

"Soon. It shouldn't be long. He'll send word before he departs."

"Good. Tomorrow we'll go shopping—not just for specialties, but also spices. Don't forget, you promised your regular customers you'd make some new, exotic incense pills when you got back."

"Ah," A Chan sighed. Every time she felt like slacking off, Hui Niang would always push her to strive forward.

Four more days passed before they finally received word from Bai Xiuming's messenger.

The next day, the convoy escorting the Prince of Xiling and his family would depart for the capital. This time, they would travel by water, taking an official ship from the Ji River to the Huai River, disembarking in Jiaozhou, and then heading straight for the capital.

A Chan had no objections; after all, she was getting a free ride, and traveling by boat was far more comfortable than by carriage.

Early the next morning, before they had even set out, a Bright Mirror Bureau Guard knocked on their door, informing them they would depart at the hour of Si (9-11 AM) and offering to load their luggage onto a prepared cart.

After thanking them, A Chan followed the men transporting their belongings.

Once outside, they noticed that soldiers—all looking formidable—were stationed every few meters along the road to the docks.

Many townsfolk peeked out from behind their doors, having heard that the Prince of Xiling was being taken to the capital for trial. They were curious, hoping to catch a glimpse of the spectacle.

A Chan had half-expected someone to block the road in protest for the Prince of Xiling, but nothing of the sort happened. Even when they reached the docks, there were no surprises.

The Prince of Xiling had ruled the region for years, yet he had not earned much affection from its people.

The common folk might seem ignorant in the eyes of the powerful, but they were not fools. Given how close the Shen clan had been to the Prince of Xiling’s household, the Shen clan's crimes surely implicated the Prince as well—otherwise, why would the imperial officials have raided his estate and arrested his entire family?

Word was that the Prince Heir of Xiling had even exposed his own family's crimes.

Perhaps more intriguing to the common folk than the Prince’s fate were the complex grudges between the Prince and his own son.

Today, the docks were empty of ordinary citizens, and no other ships were moored there.

Five government boats sat at the shore, much larger than the one A Chan had arrived on.

The Bright Mirror Bureau Guards loaded A Chan and Chen Hui’s luggage onto the first ship.

Along the way, A Chan had chatted with a few of the guards and learned that the Bright Mirror Bureau Commander would also be traveling with them. She vaguely recalled that stern-faced Commander—the one who had suspended Bai Xiuming.

Now she realized that suspension had likely been just an act between Bai Xiuming and his superior to deceive the Prince of Xiling.

Thinking about sharing the same boat with him, A Chan felt rather uneasy.

But soon, her worries vanished.

After she and Chen Hui boarded the ship, they waited until the hour of Si, but the Commander never came aboard. Instead, she was greeted by Bai Xiuming and his subordinates.

Today, Bai Xiuming finally donned his official robes, and from a distance, he cut an intimidating figure.

"Why are you on this ship?" she couldn't help but ask as he approached.

"Is there a problem?"

"Aren't there prisoners being transported to the capital on the other ships? Don't you need to guard them?"

"There's no need." Seeing her confusion, he added, "The Commander's on that ship."

It felt as if the Bright Mirror Bureau’s task assignments were reversed. Since when did the Commander do the work while the Vice Commander stood by idly?

What A Chan didn’t know was that Bai Xiuming had wanted to guard the prisoners, but Qin Heng didn’t dare let him. He feared Bai Xiuming might lose his temper along the way and dismember the Prince of Xiling—how could they present the Emperor with a pile of pieces?

To make matters worse, Shen Zhuo had been left behind in Xiling to handle the aftermath, so Qin Heng, as the Commander, had to handle it personally.

Truly, one should be careful whom they teach. When the pupils grow up and cause trouble, it’s still the teacher who has to clean up their mess.

By the hour of Si, the ship slowly departed Xiling along the Ji River.

Standing on the deck, A Chan watched the city gradually disappear from view, the faint melancholy in her heart slowly dissipating.

It was already late autumn, and the trees along the riverbanks were a splash of colors—green, yellow, and red—stretching like a painter’s brushstrokes across the landscape.

This time, no dragon troubled the waters.

After five days of sailing, the ship finally docked at Baofeng County in Jiaozhou on the evening of the sixth day.

Officials from Jiaozhou Prefecture and the county magistrate of Baofeng were already waiting on the shore.

Bai Xiuming disembarked to meet with them. The prefect of Jiaozhou had already received orders from above to fully cooperate with the Bright Mirror Bureau.

Without wasting words, the prefect had Bai Xiuming inspect the readied cages, carriages, and horses.

Once Bai Xiuming confirmed everything was in order, the Bright Mirror Bureau Guards from all five ships filed off.

The prisoners from the Xiling Prince's household were led off the ship with black hoods over their heads, all wearing identical prison uniforms, making them indistinguishable.

They were locked into prison carts one by one, followed by boxes unloaded from the other ships—enough to fill three vessels.

A Chan finally understood what the extra three ships had carried. Bai Xiuming must have stripped the Prince of Xiling’s estate bare.

The group then followed the prefect to the post station, with A Chan and Chen Hui trailing at the back.

Spotting the station from afar, A Chan called over a Bright Mirror Bureau Guard to pass along a message to Bai Xiuming—she was going out for a stroll and would return soon—before pulling Chen Hui toward the busiest street in the county.

It seemed there was some event in Baofeng County today. Despite the late hour, many locals still milled about on the streets, their faces alight with excitement.

Following the crowd, A Chan soon heard the lively sounds of gongs and drums. Before long, they came upon a large stage set up in an open space.

On either side of the stage stood bare-chested men with faces painted red, holding torches and chanting along in rhythm with the drums.

Onstage, barefoot performers in elaborate costumes and various masks sang haunting yet memorable tunes while dancing.

Their movements were exaggerated yet possessed a hypnotic rhythm, making it hard to look away.

"What's this about?" A Chan asked curiously, turning to an enthusiastic woman beside her, who was holding a small child equally engrossed in the performance.

The woman beamed. "You're not from around here, miss. This is a ghost opera!"

"Ghost opera?" A Chan had never heard of it before. "Is it to ward off ghosts?"

"Oh, ghost operas do much more than that! Warding off ghosts is just a small part. Here in Jiaozhou, we perform them to worship deities and ask for good harvests in the coming year."

"Really?"

"Absolutely!" The woman proudly pointed at the stage. "You've picked a good day—this is Jiaozhou’s most famous Ghost Opera Troupe. After tonight, they’re heading to the capital to perform for the Emperor’s birthday!"

As the woman spoke, the child in her arms patted her and babbled, pointing excitedly at the stage. The woman quickly turned her attention back.

A Chan noticed the crowd’s chatter had quieted.

Then, the drumbeats intensified. The performers onstage exited, leaving it empty—until a sudden flash of fire erupted, revealing a new figure.

Clad in flowing red robes, the performer initially faced away from the audience. An ethereal singing rose, and the figure began to dance, movements fluid and entrancing.

Even without explanation, A Chan could tell this performer outshone the others.

The audience’s barely contained excitement suggested this one was far more renowned.

When the performer turned around, a collective gasp went up from the crowd.

A Chan studied the face—no mask, yet terrifyingly distorted, as if not human at all. The features were grotesque, seemingly real rather than makeup.

"Chen Hui, is that face real or fake?" A Chan whispered to Chen Hui.

Chen Hui scrutinized the performer, equally puzzled. "I can’t tell. It looks real."

Nearby, others murmured:

"Ah, Master Yu’s face changes every time! How does she paint it so lifelike?"

"Last time in the prefectural city, it was completely different. This one’s even more fearsome—truly chilling!"

"After seeing Master Yu’s transformations, those wooden masks just don’t compare."

"Those wooden masks don't compare to the 'Thousand-Faced Ghost,' Master Yu!"

The remark drew nods of agreement.

When Master Yu’s performance ended, she vanished in another flash of fire. The crowd broke into applause for her singing and dancing.

A Chan agreed—though she was no expert, she could appreciate its beauty. Still, she was more curious about how Master Yu’s face could look so real.

New performers took the stage, but the crowd couldn't stop talking about Master Yu.

A scholar lamented, "It's too bad we won’t see Master Yu’s ghost opera this New Year's. She always refused invitations to the capital—why go now?"

A woman nearby lowered her voice. "I heard from Zhang’s third son in the prefectural city—this stays between us—but they say Master Yu once had an accident that made her forget she was married. Now she remembers and is headed to the capital to find her husband."

"After being here so long, no one ever claimed her. He's probably remarried by now?" someone wondered.

"Who knows?" People murmured sympathetically.

A Chan half-listened, treating it as just local chatter, and soon thought no more about it.