Chapter 19: Madman

Chapter 19: The Mad One

The guards, holding torches, formed a tight perimeter around the small cliff; the dim night was suddenly bright as day, the cold night wind making the torches sway violently.

"Master Mu!" Qiao Qingni, supported by an attendant, still sank down weakly by the cliff, calling out for Mu Chi in a voice filled with despair.

Qiao Wan’s eyes shifted, her breath unconsciously softening.

In that moment, everything around seemed to fall completely silent.

She couldn't see the blazing torches in the hands of the converging guards, couldn't hear anyone calling her name, only gazing blankly at the empty cliff, where no one remained.

Yet, Qiao Wan’s mind couldn’t help replaying the scene from moments before.

—Mu Chi taking an arrow for Qiao Qingni, then calmly plunging off the cliff.

Even the force with which he pushed Qiao Qingni away was so gentle.

And that cross-shaped arrow that pierced his chest, in the exact same spot as the man in her dream.

"Qiao Wan." Someone in front of her snapped her name.

Qiao Wan's consciousness gradually returned, her body slowly regaining sensation. She looked at the man before her but only murmured softly, "So it's Major General Jing…"

Jing Lan frowned deeply as he gazed at her; after a long moment, he said, "We should head back first."

Qiao Wan remained motionless where she stood. After a while, she said, "Major General Jing, may I ask where you retrieved my sachet?"

Jing Lan's expression stiffened slightly. Looking into her stubborn eyes, he gave her the answer: "Yuxiu Pavilion."

Qiao Wan's lashes fluttered slightly.

So it was true.

That time at Yuxiu Pavilion, the only ones who could have gotten close enough to take the sachet without her noticing were Jing Lan and Mu Chi.

So, from that moment on, he had already planned to plot against her, to push her and Jing Lan together?

How laughable that she was still standing up for him back then.

What must he have felt, watching her at that time? Mockery? Disgust? Or amusement?

All those past moments she had felt were off but interpreted as "he cares about me" now seemed to have a more perfect explanation.

Back at Songzhu Pavilion, when he played "Frost Mountain Dawn," it was to attract Qiao Qingni's attention in the first place—she had presumptuously interfered.

So later, when she wanted to learn to play "Frost Mountain Dawn" from him, he coldly refused but could turn around and give the sheet music to Qiao Qingni.

That brocade fur coat that complemented her fox fur coat perfectly—he hadn't even worn it once before it was burned. Surely, he must have loathed anything associated with her so much that he set it on fire?

How laughable that she thought he burned his fingers trying to save that coat.

Back in the market, those dozen or so sugar-coated hawthorns discarded in the corner—he simply didn't want them, did he?

On New Year's Eve, when he disappeared, he simply couldn't be bothered to celebrate with her.

She had even excitedly sent clothes and jewelry to the warm pavilion, blushing as she said things like "red jade symbolizes longing, golden threads signify being entwined for life, never to separate," and even gave him half of the white jade mandarin duck hairpin, spouting such foolishness as "one love for life."

Looking back now, it was utterly ridiculous.

Even more laughable was that on the way to Yanming Mountain, she had said she would give him a surprise. Turns out, it was he who gave her a "surprise."

While she was thinking of begging Qiao Heng to approve their marriage, he was thinking of how to completely free himself of her, pushing her to someone else.

Qiao Wan couldn't help but think, thankfully.

Fortunately, she never finished that sentence about "the marriage approval."

Otherwise, if she had said those words with such joy, wouldn't it have been a joke in his eyes?

"Qiao Wan…" Jing Lan started to say more.

"Jing Lan, Qiao Qingni must be frightened," Qiao Wan felt she must be unnaturally calm now, so much so that even Jing Lan, who disliked her, seemed worried. She smiled faintly, even managing to joke at a time like this, "Aren't you going to comfort her?"

As she spoke, she slowly walked toward the small cliff.

Jing Lan's expression froze, his lips pressed tightly together as he followed her. He watched the fox fur behind her flutter in the night wind, her hair already disheveled, her curved eyes even brighter than usual, carrying a delicate yet fierce determination.

Qiao Wan had already stopped at the edge of the small cliff, looking down at the calm river below.

The frantic footsteps behind her were chaotic, but she only looked into the darkness ahead, the smile on her lips fading slightly, her eyes wide open without a single tear falling.

After a long time, a hint of confusion appeared in her eyes.

She had a father, someone she adored, siblings, blood relatives…

So why was she still an orphan?

"When I was young, I was once teased by some people who deliberately pushed me into the imperial pond," Qiao Wan suddenly said softly.

Jing Lan looked at her, puzzled.

Qiao Wan paused before continuing, "The pond was extremely deep. I struggled for a long time. Eventually, some passing palace maids, afraid of getting into trouble, pulled me out." Qiao Wan smiled and turned to look at him. "After my mother found out, she cried while holding me down in the pond, making me learn to swim. I kept it up even after she passed away."

Jing Lan didn't understand at first, but after a moment, he realized and looked at her in horror, reaching out to grab her.

But Qiao Wan suddenly took half a step forward and plunged into the calm, dark river below.

In the moment of falling, Qiao Wan seemed to see Jing Lan being held back by someone, followed by a furious roar:

"Qiao Wan, you madwoman!"

Qiao Wan thought calmly, she wasn't mad.

She just needed to confirm one thing.

If Mu Chi wasn't the man from her dream, she would take back everything she had ever given him.

Then, kill him.

If he was, if he was…

Qiao Wan couldn't think further. The icy river water enveloped her instantly. Beneath the calm surface were small whirlpools flowing downstream.

But Qiao Wan swam determinedly against the current.

Everyone thought that Mu Chi, injured, would inevitably go with the flow.

But only she knew that he felt no pain. Even with an arrow in his chest, as long as he was conscious, he could swim against the current.

Qiao Wan battled the fear rising in her chest and kept swimming forward, but when she passed the mouth of a cliff, the current suddenly became turbulent. She gritted her teeth, fighting against the surging current, as she struggled through the rising and falling waves.

She had no idea how long she had been swimming when the current gradually slackened, and the cliffs along the bank turned into a gravel bank.

Feeling her tense body suddenly relax, she climbed onto the bank and wrung out her icy, soaked clothes. Her fire starter was long soaked through and useless, so she relied only on the silvery moonlight to move forward.

A cold wind blew, making Qiao Wan shiver uncontrollably. The stifling heat in her lungs fought off some of the chill.

After walking about half a mile, Qiao Wan’s footsteps halted as she quietly stared at the bloodstains on the ground.

He must be quite badly injured, right?

Good.

She pressed her lips into a tight line, and continued forward.

She finally found Mu Chi in a cave, of all places, lying there quietly. His face was deathly pale, his eyes tightly shut, his brows deeply furrowed. His white robes were damp, and his chest was stained with dark red blood—the long arrow still embedded in his flesh.

Qiao Wan stood at the cave entrance for a while before stepping inside. The metallic tang of blood hit her.

Her face slightly pale, she walked to his side, pulled the finely crafted dagger from her ankle, and sliced open the sodden fabric of his robe.

His pale chest was covered with a lattice of old and new scars, and where the arrow had pierced, a familiar cross-shaped scar was horribly visible.

Because it was a fresh wound, the scar appeared even more a lurid, unnatural red.

Qiao Wan stared blankly at the scar for a long time before suddenly letting out a laugh.

The one who killed Qiao Heng and staged the palace coup in her dream was him; the one who closed his hand around her neck and said, "'The Emperor is gone. Now it's the little princess's turn,'" was also him.

And it was also him who shielded Qiao Qingni behind him and mercilessly ended her life.

A male entertainer couldn’t possibly have the power to stage a palace coup just two months later.

So… he had indeed been using her all along.

Qiao Wan’s mind was a tangled mess.

It was as if a voice kept whispering in her ear: Kill him, kill him, he toyed with you like this…

Clutching the dagger tightly, she suddenly thrust it toward his neck but stopped just as it touched his skin.

Her eyes widened, fixed on the thin bead of blood welling on his pale neck. Her hand shook slightly, and the tears she'd held back all night finally broke free—hot tears spilling onto his chest, one after another, in a flood she couldn't stop.

Cold winds swept through the cave. After a long moment, Qiao Wan scrubbed fiercely at her face, put the dagger away, and looked at the hand that had choked her in her dream.

On the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger, there was still the familiar character "Wan."

She had thought it marked him as hers, but surely he must have felt disgusted when she carved it back then?

Qiao Wan picked up the dagger and dragged the blade forcefully across it.

The razor-sharp dagger, like a beast’s fang, tore into flesh. Blood immediately welled up, and the character was mangled into an unrecognizable mess of raw flesh.

After doing this, Qiao Wan curled up, hugging her knees, and sat to the side, staring blankly toward the cave entrance.

*

When Mu Chi fell off the cliff and heard that tearful cry of "Master Mu," he knew this absurd farce had come to an end.

Everything had gone exactly as he'd planned.

The long arrow pierced his chest. Apart from feeling the cold, hard shaft inch deeper into his flesh and his consciousness wavered for a moment, he felt nothing else.

Instead, it was the faint, weak cry of "Mu Chi" from behind him just before he leaped off the cliff that gnawed at him—a dull ache that spread through his chest that made him instinctively double over slightly.

He knew Qiao Wan had been watching him all along.

He also knew she had already guessed he was merely using her.

But so what?

Now she was of no more use to him, and it didn’t matter whether she knew or not.

As he fell from the cliff, he suppressed the urge to look up and the strange hollow feeling in his chest, calmly accepting the finale he had chosen for himself.

The river water rushed over him instantly. Mu Chi felt his entire body assailed by a deep, icy coldness, but with his last shred of clear consciousness, he fought against the current.

He had no idea how much time passed—his limbs grew stiff, and in his daze, it felt as if he had returned to that cold dungeon.

Before coming to Lingjing, he actually hadn’t dreamed of the dungeon in a long time.

He dreamed it was winter. He was writing in the dungeon, and just because the Grand Tutor had praised him a few times, the next day that worthless Li Muxuan brought people over and shattered his fingers one by one.

The crack of snapping bones echoed in the dungeon. In the end, he couldn’t even hold a brush.

Li Muxuan walked up to him, smiled, and said, "Remember, from now on, when you see me, you must smile."

"Little Brother."

The cell door crashed shut with a loud bang. The last ember in the brazier died out, plunging the dungeon into complete darkness.

Mu Chi gritted his teeth, knowing it was a nightmare but unable to wake himself.

Like a beast trapped in a cage, thrashing itself to a bloody pulp but finding no escape.

He desperately yearned for warmth but was trapped in darkness and cold.

After what felt like an eternity, the dungeon door was suddenly forced open from the outside.

A blinding light, carrying a wave of warmth, flooded the dungeon as the door slowly swung open.

The light intensified until everything was washed in a white glow.

Mu Chi’s eyes snapped open, and his gaze snapped upward, almost hungry for it.

The always-willful Qiao Wan appeared before him in a sorry state, soaked through, her face pale. Her eyes, always full of vitality, were now filled with dazed emptiness.

Yet she still radiated a warmth he longed for.

This is just a dream, Mu Chi told himself, then couldn’t help but raise a hand to approach and touch the blazing figure suddenly before him.

But Qiao Wan swiftly drew back, her lips pressed tight, expressionless as she watched him.

Mu Chi’s hand hung frozen in mid-air. It took him a moment to realize—he was awake.

Alive again.

What a pity, Mu Chi thought.

So, the Qiao Wan in front of him was real.

She really had jumped off the cliff after him.

Mu Chi watched her. Unlike before, she did not break into an irrepressible smile upon seeing him. Her expression remained completely still.

Mu Chi put on a smile and said, like always, "Princess."

Qiao Wan's eyelashes trembled slightly, and she suddenly let out a mocking laugh. "Must Master Mu keep up the act?"

Hearing her form of address, Mu Chi's smile faltered, and he unconsciously furrowed his brow.

Many people called him "Master Mu," but coming from her lips, it sounded especially harsh.

She should have bounded up to him with her usual energy, grinning widely as she called him "Mu Chi."

Mu Chi looked up, and for some reason, he suddenly grew tired of pretending in front of her.

When he looked up again, the tenderness in his eyes vanished abruptly, replaced by a pitch-black darkness. A trace of cold charm flickered at the corners of his eyes, and the smile on his lips deepened. His tone was soft, like a sigh. "So foolish."

Knowing full well he was using her, yet she still followed him down. This spoiled, high-and-mighty little princess had gotten herself into such a mess—what else could it be but foolishness?

Watching Mu Chi without his mask, whose tone was identical to that of the man in her dream, Qiao Wan couldn't help but grip the dagger tighter in her hand.

So this was the real him. With just one glance, it was clear that beneath his gentle facade lay a heart full of malice.

Mu Chi noticed her movement, his eyes briefly sweeping over the dagger. "Want to kill me?" he asked with remarkable calm, with no intention of fighting back.

At this moment, she indeed had the chance to kill him. Even if he felt no pain, too much blood loss and hypothermia had left him with little strength left.

His question took Qiao Wan by surprise, and she stared hard at him.

She had indeed considered it.

But at this moment, looking at him like this, Qiao Wan suddenly felt free.

She loved the mountain, but she was no Foolish Old Man.

So from today onward, she would begin to learn that the Mu Chi who emerged from the Songzhu Pavilion, was gentle as water with her; the Mu Chi who held her tightly and took whips for her; the Mu Chi who wore a mask to cover his face because of her jealousy; and... the Mu Chi who made her heart race—

Had already died in these icy waters.

Never to return.

The Mu Chi before her was merely an ordinary man who had helped her smoothly leave Lingjing and journey toward freedom.

Qiao Wan tightened her grip on the dagger and, in the next instant, swung it forward.

Mu Chi slightly closed his eyes, expecting the end, but instead felt the arrow embedded in his chest wobble, stirring his flesh with a faint tremor.

He couldn't help but hold his breath, opening his eyes to see only the exposed wooden shaft of the arrow sliced clean through.

Mu Chi looked at her with a complex gaze, then momentarily froze in surprise.

Her eyes were rimmed red, wide open and filled with unshed tears, yet not a single one fell.

After a long while, Mu Chi murmured, distracted, "What a pity..."

"Why?" he asked.

Shouldn't she hate him?

Qiao Wan fell silent for a moment before suddenly breaking into a smile. She replied generously, "I couldn't bring myself to."

With that, she stood up. "This isn’t a suitable place to treat wounds. I’ll take you out of Yanming Mountain."