Chapter 45: Death

Chapter 45: Dead

The howling winds over the cliff seemed to still, and the torchlight around appeared frozen in place.

Si Li looked at the young master standing silently at the edge of the cliff. The wind whipped his robes and jet-black hair into disarray, yet he seemed utterly unaware, as if he might blow away like a feather at any moment.

Recalling how he had barely managed to stop the Young Master moments earlier, Si Li suppressed a cough, the taste of blood instantly rising in his throat. He quickly averted his gaze, looking toward the faint torchlight at the base of the cliff. "Young Master, our men have reached the bottom of the cliff."

Mu Chi did not respond. He remained expressionless at the cliff's edge, his face as pale as a ghost, lifeless and grim. His eyes were filled with a dark, chaotic turmoil, and only the fingers hidden beneath his wide sleeves trembled uncontrollably.

In his daze, Mu Chi remembered the scene in the rear palace of Great Qi, where the woman he should have called Mother Empress wept as she said "I'm sorry," yet unhesitatingly chose to drain the poisoned cup.

That image overlapped with Qiao Wan falling from the cliff.

Yet it was different.

Back then, he had only felt an empty feeling.

A trace of confusion flickered in Mu Chi's eyes.

What he wanted to keep, what he clearly wanted to hold tightly in his palm—he always failed to grasp it.

How much time passed? Perhaps the length of a tea ceremony, or perhaps an hour.

A guard hurried up with a torch, glanced at Mu Chi, and then cautiously looked at Si Li.

Si Li stepped forward, then returned, his expression filled with disbelief and... absurdity.

After a long moment, Si Li spoke. "Young Master, a wrecked carriage was found at the bottom of the cliff, and..." His voice suddenly grew hoarse, and he paused before continuing, "two corpses."

The moment his words fell, everything fell silent.

Mu Chi's eyelashes trembled slightly. After a long while, his Adam's apple moved, and he rasped, "Hm."

He had watched with his own eyes the carriage Qiao Wan was in plunge straight into the cliff without stopping. This outcome seemed expected.

Perhaps because he was too calm, Si Li's expression grew increasingly concerned. "Does the Young Master wish to see—"

"She once said to let her leave, to pretend the royal family had lost an insignificant princess," Mu Chi interrupted Si Li, murmuring unrelated words softly. As he spoke, he took two more steps toward the cliff's edge, his body swaying precariously.

Si Li watched with held breath, almost reaching out to steady him.

Mu Chi spoke again, his voice harsh. "She would rather take someone else's place in marriage to escape Lingjing, to escape me. This was the path she chose. Why should I go see her?" Yet by the end, his voice was hoarse and broken.

Si Li stared blankly at this unfamiliar version of the Young Master, then after a long moment turned and quietly instructed the guards to carefully retrieve everything and everyone from the bottom of the cliff.

The guard acknowledged the order and turned to leave, but in that instant, a white figure flashed past like a gust of wind, stumbling clumsily down toward the base of the cliff.

There was no wind at the bottom of the cliff, only an eerie silence.

Mu Chi's steps halted not far away as he quietly gazed ahead.

The carriage had splintered, its ceremonial red silks scattered among broken stones and dry branches. The sandalwood wardrobe had also smashed open, spilling familiar luxurious garments and hairpins.

Those were Qiao Wan's clothes and jewelry. Only she always loved such extravagant and lavish items.

A metallic smell of blood filled the air.

Mu Chi's gaze trembled as he blankly shifted his eyes to the woman on the ground.

She still wore the fiery red wedding dress, the phoenix crown lay askew beside her. She lay quietly in a pool of blood, utterly silent.

"Young Master, we have carefully examined," someone knelt before him and reported respectfully. "There were two people in the carriage, master and servant. Both have no pulse."

Two people, master and servant. No pulse.

Mu Chi's body stiffened. He took two steps toward the woman but stopped as if startled when he saw her mangled, bloodied face.

He stood there utterly lost.

He had imagined how she would look in wedding clothes, but it was never like this.

He didn't understand how Qiao Wan, once proud and stubborn, and so fond of beauty, had become like this.

In the past, she would meticulously apply hand balm every day, but now those hands were covered in wounds and blood.

In the past, she would carefully apply makeup and shape her eyebrows, but now that face showed none of its original delicacy.

"Young Master, the wooden frame has been taken down," someone cautiously approached and said.

Mu Chi turned to look with empty eyes and softly replied, "Hm."

"Shall we carry the princess and her maid up now?" the person asked quietly.

Mu Chi nodded calmly. "Hm."

As he spoke, he stepped aside to clear a path.

Si Li, who had caught up, watched the Young Master with concern.

The guards carefully collected the carriage fragments, clothes, and jewelry one by one. They laid thick drapes over the wooden frame before lifting the two bodies and carrying them step by step up the cliff.

Mu Chi followed calmly, step by step, behind them.

Daybreak was near.

On the cliff, the envoys of Great Qi dared not make a sound, watching the scene before them in fearful silence. When they glimpsed the familiar face of the man in white behind, they grew even more silent and fearful.

The group quietly made their way down Yanming Mountain, with only Mu Chi nearly falling multiple times, Si Li quickly catching him each time.

Even after reaching the foot of Yanming Mountain, the group continued onward.

Si Li's steps unconsciously halted as he looked toward a grove nearby.

There stood a grave, rough-hewn and recent.

Remembering what they had learned from questioning the Great Qi envoys—that Princess Changle had paused here—Si Li turned to Mu Chi. "Young Master, that was left by Princess Changle."

Mu Chi's steps paused. After a long moment, he slowly turned his head to look, then froze.

He walked slowly over the forest floor, approaching the grave. The headstone was blank, as if... she had known she would remain here and had specially prepared this resting place herself.

Mu Chi reached out and gently touched the crude tombstone. For some reason, he suddenly remembered Qiao Wan once looking at him earnestly and saying, "Mu Chi, I think you might die without me."

But he hadn't died. He was still alive and well.

Mu Chi couldn't help but feel a bitter smile form. Once memories began to flood, they were unstoppable, like a burst dam.

He also remembered back in Yuxiu Pavilion, when he had taken a lashing for her and she had looked at him heartbroken, saying, "Even if you can't feel pain, you can still get hurt."

And there was that time she took him out on the street, only to get jealous because other women glanced at him a few times: "I should have locked you up in the Princess Changle’s residence. Don’t come out anymore."

Under the ginkgo tree at Banruo Temple, she earnestly carved his and her names on a ceremonial tablet: "They say this is a matchmaking tree, and it’s very effective."

She said with a beaming smile: "Every New Year, you must make me happy."

It snowed, and after she formed a snowball and hit him with it, she doubled over laughing: "Mu Chi, why didn’t you know to dodge?"

On New Year’s Eve, she said to him seriously: "Mu Chi, we should stay together forever."

……

So many, many scenes came flooding back, and the composure Mu Chi had feigned shattered suddenly.

His body swayed violently, his vision blurred, alternating between light and dark, and everything around him seemed to become muffled.

An unfamiliar sensation slowly grew from his chest. Mu Chi gasped as if choked.

His once straight back bent as if crushed, and he slumped against the tomb, hunched over.

Mu Chi couldn’t help but press a hand to his chest.

It was as if razor-thin blades crisscrossed his heart, leaving fine wounds that seemed no different from usual, but with the slightest movement, blood beaded up, welling forth in an instant.

As if suffocating, Mu Chi struggled to move his lips, his breath shuddered.

Someone seemed to be calling "Young Master" by his ear, but he couldn’t make it out clearly. Clutching his chest tightly, he strained like a mute struggling to speak to utter a single word: "It hurts…"

It hurts so much.

The intense pain surged from his chest to his limbs, making his whole body tremble lightly. His heart clenched in spasms of pain, unbearable yet unceasing…

*Is this what pain feels like?*

Mu Chi recalled that bet at Pine Bamboo House he had never cared about; he also remembered when Jing Lan left, she said, "He knows pain, I can’t bear to."

Now he knew what pain felt like too. He was no longer a monster, so why didn’t she pity him?

Back then, at Wild Goose Cry Mountain, when Qiao Wan watched him take an arrow meant for another woman and fall off the cliff, did she feel the same way?

Was she in this much pain too?

But if knowing pain came at such a cost, he’d rather remain that painless monster.

*If… the heart doesn’t beat, wouldn’t it stop hurting?*

Countless thoughts flooded in instantly. Mu Chi’s fingers pressed harder against his chest, as if trying to burrow into his flesh and rip his heart out. The white clothes on his chest were soon crimson with blood.

"Young Master!" Si Li watched in horror as his master’s eyes were clouded over with darkness, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pull his hand away. In the end, he could only grit his teeth and shout, "Princess Changle would never want you to be like this!"

As if hearing that familiar name, Mu Chi froze, the darkness in his pupils gradually receding, replaced by a sliver of clarity.

Seizing the chance, Si Li mustered all his strength to pull away the hand harming himself.

Mu Chi turned his gaze to the woman on the wooden frame not far away, her fiery wedding dress draping down, swaying gently in the mountain breeze.

Mu Chi slowly walked forward, looking at her mutilated face. After a long while, he reached out and gently caressed it, pausing when he felt the chill of her skin. His pale fingertips were stained dark red with blood, macabre yet hauntingly beautiful.

"What should I do, Qiao Wan…" Mu Chi paused for a breath, as if remembering something, and softly changed how he addressed her, "Wan Wan, even though I know you wanted to leave, I’m still taking you back to Ling Capital."

As he spoke, he bent down and lifted her horizontally into his arms, the front of his white clothes instantly stained with blood.

"Young Master…" Si Li wanted to say more, but he only saw Mu Chi, holding the woman in his arms, walk step by step to the horse the guards had brought over.

Before anyone could react, he had already mounted the horse, holding the woman in front of him, and rode unsteadily as he headed in the direction of Ling Capital.

Along the way, Mu Chi occasionally steadied her slumping form or wiped the blood off her.

The horizon gradually glowed red, a brilliant sunrise blooming in the distance beyond the cliff. A beam of golden-red light shone upon the two of them.

Mu Chi’s hand holding the reins stilled. He turned toward the sunrise, gazing for a long time before casually looking away and murmured, "It’s dawn, but you can sleep a little longer."

Si Li watched from the side, heart racing. His lips moved, but in the end, he didn’t dare speak, only instructing others to see to the other corpse respectfully.

It was only half a day’s journey from Wild Goose Cry Mountain to Ling Capital, but Mu Chi traveled slowly from sunrise until nightfall.

Tonight, Ling Capital was still bustling with the lingering joy of the royal wedding.

Mu Chi rode slowly through the streets, the common people on both sides looking at the two of them in horror, scattering far away.

Mu Chi seemed unaware, still occasionally gazing into the distance, frowning as he said, "I don’t know why you especially liked such an irritating night market."

But then, as if reconsidering, he added, "But since you liked it, it had some charm after all."

Mu Chi also wanted to buy pastries and snacks from the street stalls, but those people turned pale and avoided him at the sight.

He couldn’t help but frown, a fierce light gathering in his eyes.

Si Li, who had been following behind, hurried forward and bought quite a few treats for him, then handed them over.

Mu Chi reluctantly relaxed his expression. By the time they returned to the princess’s residence, he was holding quite a few snacks.

Carrying the woman in his arms off the horse, he went all the way back to her bedchamber and placed her on the soft couch. Mu Chi sat lost and confused by the table, unsure what else he should do.

After a while, he finally came to his senses, picked up the pastries he had bought, and meant to bring them to her lips. But when he saw the bloodstains all over her face, he paused, withdrew his hand in frustration, and ordered, "Bring a basin of warm water."

When Si Li brought the warm water, he carefully wiped the blood and dirt from her face.

Beneath the bloodstains was horrifying, mangled, torn flesh without a single intact spot.

Mu Chi, as if still unaware, gently brushed her hair: "Your hair is all messy."

As he spoke, he carried her to the dressing table, took a wooden comb, and carefully combed her long hair, then styled it into the chignon she had once loved most.

But just as he opened the vanity case to pick out a hairpin, his movements suddenly halted.

A few pieces of jewelry remained inside, left behind—a kingfisher-feather red jade pin, a gold-wire twined hairpin…

They were the paired accessories she had given him when he was still a male escort.

She had said: Red jade symbolizes lovesickness, and gold wire winding means entangled for life, never to part.

Mu Chi stared fixedly, then took two panicked steps back before turning and walking into the inner room to open the clothing chest.

Inside was a fiery red fox fur coat.

—The one that matched perfectly with the Brocade fur coat she had once given him.

Qiao Wan, who loved such luxurious items so much, had left these behind.

Mu Chi took the fox-fur cloak, returned to the dressing table, draped it over the woman's shoulders, and then gathered all the jewelry from the jewelry box, tucking them into her hair.

"In the future, don’t lose them again," he murmured softly, gazing with her at the reflection in the bronze mirror.

But the woman’s head lolled forward, completely limp.

Mu Chi gently straightened her.

Yet the moment he let go, she slumped over again.

Mu Chi patiently propped her up, over and over, but on the last attempt, he suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice trembling: "Qiao Wan, how dare you... how dare you..."

What exactly he meant, he never managed to say.

Mu Chi gradually calmed down, then reached out, gently brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers.

But upon touching the ice-cold skin, he stilled slightly and murmured to himself, "Is it too cold in the chambers? You’ve never been this cold, even in winter..."

As he spoke, he stood up and told a servant to bring a brazier.

Early summer in Lingjing was already showing signs of heat, yet the chambers still had three braziers blazing.

Mu Chi lifted the woman and laid her on the bed. He initially intended to lie beside her as usual, but remembering how she had pushed him away last time, he hesitated and quietly sat by the bed instead, his eyes never leaving her. After a long silence, he whispered, "You’ve been sleeping for quite a while this time."

A knock came from outside the chambers, followed by Si Li’s hesitant voice: "Sir, it’s late..."

Mu Chi responded impatiently, "Everyone, get some rest."

Si Li paused: "But the Princess needs to—"

"This is her bedchamber. Where else would she be?" Mu Chi interrupted him calmly.

Si Li was stunned. Though the master’s tone was exceptionally calm, it carried a deeply unsettling quality.

But what astonished Si Li even more was that the master remained in the chambers, sitting by the phoenix-carved bed, refusing all food and drink for three full days.

Finally, on the morning of the fourth day, Si Li boldly entered the chambers. A wave of heat mixed with the stench of blood and decay greeted him.

Mu Chi was still sitting by the bed, his face utterly pale, his lips chapped and bleeding from dryness. He turned his head slowly at the noise, looking at Si Li with displeasure.

Si Li said, "Master... it’s time to close the coffin."

Mu Chi frowned, his lips moving slightly. A trickle of blood seeped from his lip. He seemed about to speak, but Si Li mustered the courage to interrupt him: "Princess Changle cared so much about her appearance. She would never have wanted to be seen like this now."

Mu Chi’s lips stiffened. He stared blankly at the woman on the bed, as if only now noticing her decaying lips.

Yes, she loved beauty so much—she would never tolerate becoming like this.

This time, Mu Chi said nothing more.

Si Li knew the master had silently consented. He softly instructed people to carefully carry the body out and tidy the chambers. Just as he was about to leave, Mu Chi, who had been silently watching, whispered, "Si Li, bring more braziers."

Si Li was puzzled but still brought them.

Yet Mu Chi asked for several more, until the entire chambers felt like a furnace. Only then did he finally stop.

After Si Li left, Mu Chi remained silent for a long time. He stood up, looking around in confusion, then lay on the bed, slowly curling up. His fingers trembled uncontrollably as he exhaled a breath that misted in the hot air.

Outside, the sun was blazing, and the warmth of early summer was already spreading. Inside, the braziers burned fiercely, yet he felt a cold that seeped into his very bones.

His chest tightened, he couldn't tell if it was from pain or the cold, making him shiver.

Perhaps from lack of sleep, Mu Chi’s consciousness began to drift.

Surrounded by the familiar, warm scent of her perfume, he had a strange dream.

He dreamed he returned to a night not long ago, slowly pushing open the chambers door. Under the moonlight, he saw Qiao Wan lying on the bed.

She was still sleeping in her usual restless way, her head slightly tilted, her dark hair scattered across the quilt, one foot stuck out from under the covers.

On her fair ankle was an exquisite, ornate golden shackle. With the slightest movement, it chimed like a silver bell.

It was a decadent, enchanting sight.

He reached out, gently grasping her ankle, his fingers skirting the cold metal of the shackle, and tenderly caressed it.

The clear sound of the shackle disturbed her. She nudged weakly at his chest with her foot, soft and annoyed: "Mu Chi, why are you here again..."

Her voice was hoarse with complaint.

He didn’t respond, only guided her foot down, gazing at the red marks left by the shackle and the faint, light brown mole on the inside of her ankle.

He gently arched her ankle, leaning over her. The bed curtains swayed rhythmically...

Mu Chi gasped and opened his eyes. The bed curtains from his dream came into view.

He lay on the bed in confusion, alone, with only a patch of dried blood beside him.

After a long while, Mu Chi got up but froze when he saw the damp spot on his inner robe. The clear, chiming sound of the golden shackle from his dream seemed to echo in his ears.

Mu Chi took a deep breath, the familiar pain in his heart surging.

He stifled a cough, swallowing the metallic taste of blood, and walked calmly to change into fresh clothes. But the next moment, his movements abruptly halted.

The red marks on the fair ankle.

The faint mole on the inside of the ankle.

Mu Chi’s body staggered, then he hurried outside.

That day, everyone in the princess’s residence clearly saw Master Mu frantically burst into the mourning hall, wrench open the coffin lid, and remove the corpse’s shoes and socks.

After a brief dead silence, Master Mu, who had always been exceptionally calm, suddenly burst into mad laughter, laughing until his eyes turned red and tears streamed down his face.

Si Li stepped forward and laid a brocade fur coat over his shoulders.

*

Several days later, Mu Chi went to Yanming Mountain again.

He stood quietly before the fresh grave, holding the mermaid pearl bracelet he had bought that day at the shop, gazing at the unmarked tomb.

In that moment, he seemed to understand.

This grave was buried on Yanming Mountain not only because she had left but also because she loved it here.

She had loved the gentle young man from the Songzhu Pavilion, loved the Mu Chi who promised to always stay with her.

But here, right before her—

he had personally "killed" the person she loved.

Mu Chi gently caressed the smooth, glossy pearl in his hand. He could give her what she wanted—but escaping him...

He let out a low, hoarse laugh and bit out each word: "Not a chance."

He would find her.

He'd track her down.

Author's Note: