Chapter 71: Scar

Chapter 71: The Scar

Jing Lan learned of Qiao Wan’s fall from the cliff just as he was about to enter battle for the first time.

At that time, he was merely a junior officer, leading three hundred soldiers in drills at the foot of Mount Ling when they unexpectedly encountered an ambush by the Northern Di barbarians.

What began as a minor skirmish quickly escalated into a fierce battle as reinforcements from both sides poured in.

The General of the Guards sent an urgent report on the border situation to Lingjing, and within three days, word came back from the capital that all three armies were to follow Jing Rong’s orders.

Along with this news arrived a letter dated two months earlier.

It stated that Princess Changle had taken Princess Zhaoyang’s place in a marriage alliance, but while passing Yanming Mountain, her horse bolted and both she and the horse plunged off a cliff; her body was never recovered.

Jing Lan found the phrases "fell off the cliff" and "her body was never recovered" absurd.

Qiao Wan had always despised Qiao Qingni—why would she ever take her place in a political marriage?

Moreover, given her vain and domineering nature, how could she allow herself to end up in such a state—disappeared without a trace?

Yet that night, during the battle against the Northern Di, Jing Lan found his mind drifting.

The scar on his temple originated from that very night.

Only when enemy blades swung toward him did he snap back to awareness.

After the battle, Jing Lan sought out Jing Rong and expressed his desire to return to Lingjing to see the truth for himself.

For the first time, Jing Rong did not reprimand him for his lapse. Instead, he shook his head, sighed, and told him the letter was written in Minister Wen’s handwriting.

The implication was clear—Minister Wen would not lie.

Qiao Wan was truly dead.

Jing Lan spent several days alone in his tent. When he emerged again, he appeared composed, as if nothing had changed.

He resolved to earn military merits so he could return to the capital openly and burn more spirit money at Qiao Wan’s grave.

After all, Qiao Wan had always been extravagant and willful—even in the afterlife, she probably hadn’t changed.

She shouldn’t have to suffer as a destitute ghost.

But later, when rumors spread through the camp that the Crown Prince of Great Qi had undergone a dramatic change in character and was searching everywhere for someone, a flicker of hope stirred in Jing Lan’s heart.

When he heard that the Crown Prince had brought a woman back to Yan Capital, he felt a strong premonition—it must be Qiao Wan.

He immediately rode back to Lingjing, catching up with the Li Kingdom's diplomatic mission to Great Qi. When he saw Mu Chi in the grand hall, he was certain—Qiao Wan was alive.

After evading the numerous spies surrounding the embassy, Jing Lan stood silently in a quiet alley near Jinyin Zhai.

Until that familiar, slender figure finally appeared.

She seemed unchanged—still dressed in vivid red robes, adorned with elaborate hairpins bearing dangling ornaments—yet also different. Her complexion was better, her eyes and brows like blooming camellias, more delicate and radiant, and she carried herself more quietly.

Just as he once had years ago, he drew his soft whip and flicked it toward her, watching her dodge frantically, exactly as she used to.

He said, “Qiao Wan, is it really you returned from the dead?”

He was furious—furious that she had faked her death and left Lingjing without regard for anyone else—but as the words left his mouth, his eyes stung.

Qiao Wan instinctively wanted to retort, but paused when she met his gaze.

She had never imagined seeing Jing Lan again. The last time she saw him was four years ago, standing before the general’s estate, watching the Jing family’s carriage disappear into the distance through the rain.

Memories flooded back, and Qiao Wan’s throat tightened. After a long silence, she whispered softly, “I’m sorry…”

Jing Lan’s eyes flickered. He never expected the once proud and domineering Qiao Wan to apologize. His own throat constricted, and he let out an exaggerated laugh: “What are you apologizing for? I never grieved for you.”

Qiao Wan pressed her lips together and murmured, “Mm.”

“And I certainly never shed a single tear for you.”

Qiao Wan looked at Jing Lan, so close before her now, at the face hardened by frontier life into something steadier, and still replied quietly, “Mm.”

This time, Jing Lan fell silent.

Perhaps a long time passed, or perhaps only moments. Jing Lan met her gaze and suddenly laughed, arching his brows: “Qiao Wan, I know I’m charming and handsome, but there’s no need to stare so openly, is there?”

Qiao Wan snapped out of it, widening her eyes to glare at him: “Jing Lan, long time no see, and your skin has grown even thicker.”

Jing Lan chuckled softly.

They fell silent again, until Qiao Wan finally broke the quiet: “Why are you among the people from the Li Kingdom?”

Jing Lan raised his brow: “What? Do you think I came because of you?”

Qiao Wan frowned: “Jing Lan.”

Jing Lan finally grew somewhat serious, turning his gaze into the distance, his expression softening. “I’ve never been to Yan Capital before. Won’t you show me around?”

Qiao Wan looked toward the darkening city, where street lamps were beginning to glow, the bustling streets shimmering like a dream.

“You haven’t come out these past few days?” Though he had to participate in daytime competitions, there had been no curfew in Yan Capital lately.

Jing Lan said lazily, “Who knows what medicine the Great Qi imperial guards were on—they specifically sealed off the Li Kingdom’s embassy, claiming it was to protect honored guests.” The real reason wasn’t hard to guess.

Qiao Wan froze, suddenly recalling how a few days ago she had asked Mu Chi who the envoys from the Li Kingdom were.

Mu Chi had said they were just some unimportant lower-ranking officials.

Qiao Wan’s breath caught slightly. She pressed her lips together and stepped forward.

Jing Lan watched her receding figure, hesitated for a moment, then followed.

The night market in Yan Capital was even livelier than in Lingjing. Hu dancers swayed gracefully, poets drank wildly, scholars and artists laughed and debated romance, and young masters and ladies strolled hand in hand.

As Qiao Wan walked among them, a tuft of snow-white fluff drifted down—poplar catkins falling from the trees.

She paid no attention, but Jing Lan reached out and caught the catkin just before her eyes. From the side, it looked as though he were gently caressing her cheek.

Qiao Wan glanced at him, then suddenly felt a chill run down her spine.

Frowning, she turned around, but saw only unfamiliar street scenes.

“Minister Wen is now assisting with state affairs in Lingjing,” Jing Lan said. “The Li Kingdom is more stable than before.”

Qiao Wan snapped out of her thoughts, her lashes fluttering slightly as she turned to look at him.

“Before the late emperor passed,” Jing Lan continued softly, “he left a secret decree: if the new emperor proved incompetent, Minister Wen could choose a worthy successor. Princess Zhaoyang has been under house arrest. Recently, the restrictions were slightly lifted. I heard she will soon be married to the youngest son of a minor noble family.”

"Only Princess Changle's mansion remains empty, with people occasionally going to clean it. Everything is as it was before."

"The owner of Yuxiu Pavilion, which you often visited, was really upset for quite some time after you left."

"The proprietress of the pastry shop you frequented also cried, saying Princess Changle was generous and even helped chase away local troublemakers for her."

"The people of Lingjing also learned that Princess Changle donated two hundred thousand taels of silver, nearly emptying the palace coffers..."

Jing Lan seemed to know everything she was concerned about but found hard to ask. As they walked, he quietly filled her in on Lingjing after her departure, bit by bit.

Qiao Wan listened, her eyes gradually reddening.

Memories of riding through the streets of Lingjing flashed before her eyes like a kaleidoscope.

Finally, Jing Lan stopped and turned toward a street stall hung with lanterns. After a long pause, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a cloth tiger toy about half the size of a palm. "And this..."

Qiao Wan looked at the cloth tiger toy in confusion, feeling it was vaguely familiar.

Jing Lan smiled. "The lantern festival riddle game."

Qiao Wan's eyes widened as she instantly remembered.

That year at the Lingjing street market, Jing Lan had won a silver hairpin with a butterfly design from the riddle game, while she had won this cloth tiger toy.

But that night, before they parted, he had taken the cloth tiger toy from her.

Qiao Wan reached out and took the cloth tiger toy. It was stained with dark, hard-to-clean bloodstains and had been resewn in places.

Jing Lan's gaze, however, fell on her hand holding the cloth tiger toy—the scar running across the back of her hand was impossible to miss.

The pampered Qiao Wan, unexpectedly, now bore an ugly scar on the back of her hand.

"Hey, Qiao Wan," Jing Lan called out with a laugh.

Qiao Wan looked up.

Jing Lan raised an eyebrow and asked deliberately, "You didn't cut yourself intentionally to match the scar on my forehead, did you?"

Qiao Wan followed his gaze to the back of her hand. "We're not the same. I was cut by bandits, and it's on my hand. Yours is on your face."

Bandits...

Jing Lan's smile faltered. Suddenly, he didn't dare ask what she had been through. Instead, he looked at her seriously and asked, "Do you really not plan to return to Lingjing?"

Qiao Wan's eyes showed a moment of confusion before she lowered her gaze. "That place is no longer the Lingjing I knew."

This time, Jing Lan did not deny it. He had never known that her special treatment from the emperor was because the late emperor used her body to test medicines on her, nor had he known how miserable she'd been in Lingjing.

Jing Lan fell silent, remaining quiet for a long, long time. Even though he had long known that his choice to give up on her had made their chances slim, he still held onto a glimmer of hope.

Jing Lan said in a joking tone, "Then would you be willing to come with me to Ling Mountain?"

As the words left his mouth, he realized his voice was unexpectedly tight with tension.

In a dimly lit corner of the street market.

Mu Chi stood quietly, his tall figure solitary, his snow-white robes cold as frost.

He stared fixedly at Qiao Wan, standing in the flickering light and shadows ahead, his breath seemingly halted as he waited for her response.

Did she want to leave Yan Capital, to leave him?

Mu Chi watched as Qiao Wan remained silent for a long moment. Then she lifted her head and smiled softly at Jing Lan before parting her lips...

Mu Chi abruptly turned and retreated quickly from the street market as if escaping in panic.

He did not dare hear her answer.

Perhaps he should not have come here today. He should have pretended that nothing happened tonight, so he would not have to learn some cruel truth.

He should have pretended not to know that Qiao Wan had met Jing Lan, not known how brightly Qiao Wan had smiled at Jing Lan tonight.

He only needed to return and wait patiently for Qiao Wan to come back to the residence, and they would continue as usual.

Mu Chi walked dejectedly through the darkness, his white robes radiating a chill. Passersby glanced at him and then fled in fear.

Mu Chi seemed unaware, battling his raging jealousy, his lips pressed tightly together as he returned to the residence.

"Young Master," Si Li was waiting at the gate and hurried forward upon seeing him return. "Court Physician Song said he would come tomorrow to collect the new medical ingredients."

Mu Chi looked at him blankly, only belatedly processing the words. He responded softly and walked straight toward the side compound.

Dismissing the servants in the side compound, Mu Chi entered the room alone. The unoccupied bedroom was dimly lit by a single faint candle.

Mu Chi walked to the table and sat down, waiting quietly.

The scene from earlier kept flooding his thoughts.

When he heard that Jing Lan had disappeared from the guest residence, he had rushed here and indeed found them together.

He had intended to approach, but when he saw Jing Lan reach out to touch her cheek, his footsteps froze.

He listened as Jing Lan spoke of the events in Lingjing, watched as Qiao Wan's face filled with emotion, her eyes reddening.

And Jing Lan looked at her with pity.

And that scar...

Mu Chi couldn't help but look down at the back of his own hand. Aside from the character "Wan" (her name) carved near the thumb, there was nothing else.

Mu Chi glanced around, his gaze settling on the metal scissors the servants used to trim the wick. The sharp blades gleamed with a cold silver light.

Mu Chi walked over, picked up the scissors, and thinking of the scar on Qiao Wan's hand that he had touched countless times, he began to carefully cut, as if creating artwork, watching as a dark red blood mark gradually spread across the back of his hand.

Blood instantly began to flow, dripping from his fingers onto the floor, splattering into drops like blossoming flowers.

He was the only one who truly matched Qiao Wan.

The candle nearby flickered and went out, leaving the room in darkness.

*

When Qiao Wan returned, it was already after nightfall.

The sky had long since darkened.

Qiao Wan frowned as she entered the side compound, not even noticing that all the lights in the compound were off.

Thinking of Jing Lan's mention of going to Ling Mountain, her mind immediately thought of a certain crazy person, making Qiao Wan even more upset.

Pushing open the bedroom door, Qiao Wan finally realized the room was completely dark.

Qiao Wan narrowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room: "Yicui? Green..." Luo.

Before she could finish the last word, her hand was grabbed by someone.

In the dim courtyard light, she was pressed against the door. The familiar scent of cool fragrance and blood enveloped her. Before Qiao Wan could gather her thoughts, a passionate kiss crashed against her lips.

His cold, thin lips trembled slightly, carrying a hint of anxiety and a desire to please, mingling their breath between lips and teeth.

Author's Note:

The Dog: It's my eyes that committed the sin.

The Dog: I shouldn't have seen what I shouldn't have seen!

Still The Dog: I should have just obediently waited in the mansion for her to come back and bestow her favor!

(This chapter offers 50 little red envelopes to share good fortune~)