Chapter 185 Growing Old Together

Chapter 185: Growing Old Together

The price of defying fate?

Xue Han’s heart trembled as he gazed at the young woman speaking so lightly—anger surged within him.

“Why didn’t *he* come himself?”

Leaving A-Heng, a teenage girl, to bear it all alone.

Qiu Heng let out a deep sigh. “He’s too old.”

Time’s river surges ever forward; no matter how brilliant a figure, none can return to the past—only endless regrets remain.

Except for her.

Heaven granted her the chance to swim against the current—yet punished her for the changes she wrought. Heaven was frankly contradictory.

“After the fifteenth day, I’ll go with you to find him.”

“Alright.”

Snow fell heavier now, swirling around them.

“A-Heng, who’s next?”

“I can’t tell you yet.” Qiu Heng tilted her head playfully—though her heart was bitter.

Xue Han didn’t press further; his gaze drifted toward the lake.

Snow fell silently. The lake lay frozen and still. After a long silence, Qiu Heng asked, “How are the Prime Minister’s Madam and Nanny Su?”

“Madam Yang was so shocked she went mad—and died bashing her head against Third Master Fang’s ancestral tablet. Nanny Su was sold to a brothel along the Xiangsha River.”

Hearing Nanny Su’s fate, Qiu Heng asked no more.

Xue Han, however, grew curious. “I thought you’d ask about Miss Fang.”

The Prime Minister’s residence housed hundreds—Xue Han couldn’t recall where everyone ended up, only those Qiu Heng had dealt with directly.

“I’d crossed paths with Nanny Su before, so I was just wondering. As for Miss Fang—I have nothing to ask.”

Nanny Su had destroyed Fang Zhou’s family; knowing her fate brought Fang Zhou closure. As for Fang Rui—she’d enjoyed her family’s privileges and suffered its downfall. Her fate held no interest for Qiu Heng at all.

A proud daughter of privilege reduced to ruin was never pleasant to contemplate.

“A-Heng.”

“Hmm?”

Her eyes were clear as autumn water, watching him in quiet stillness.

Xue Han suddenly forgot what he’d meant to say. Awkwardly, he reached up to brush snow from her hair—but more kept falling, impossible to clear away.

Qiu Heng grabbed her own tangled hair. “Xue Han!”

What was he doing—sweeping her head like a floor?

For some reason, Qiu Heng recalled the time this man had tucked her under his arm and sprinted off.

Oh—yes, that had been at Qinglian Lake too.

Xue Han quietly withdrew his hand, glanced at the girl with her disheveled hair—and grew even more flustered.

“Sorry—I just saw snow in your hair—”

“You’ve got it too.” Qiu Heng raised her hand. “Bend down a little.”

Xue Han bent slightly.

He seemed to have grown taller; though Qiu Heng was tall for a woman, she had to rise onto her tiptoes—playfully returning the favor by brushing snow from his hair.

The snow vanished—only to be instantly replaced.

Qiu Heng slowly stopped, gazing at the young man standing motionless as a statue—then laughed. “Xue Han, like this… it’s as if we’re growing old together.”

Her cold hand was suddenly seized—and she tumbled into Xue Han’s embrace.

“Xue Han—”

The young man lowered his head. His lips descended—first to her forehead, then to her lips.

Qiu Heng’s eyes widened in shock—feeling more helpless than during the searing agony of her last *fa zuo*.

He pulled her closer. She heard a thunderous heartbeat—hers or his, she couldn’t tell.

Soon, scattered thoughts dissolved entirely. The kiss—lighter than a snowflake—deepened abruptly, making her forget everything else—even how to breathe.

She could only wrap her arms around his waist and close her eyes.

“A-Heng.” His hot breath brushed her ear.

Qiu Heng opened her eyes—to find his gaze dark and turbulent, his breathing ragged as he struggled to hold himself back.

In the ten years of her later life, Qiu Heng had never experienced this—but she’d witnessed countless tragedies and understood, at least vaguely, matters between men and women.

She sensed his desire faintly—and felt a flicker of curiosity about what he might do next.

But Xue Han gently pushed her away, speaking earnestly: “A-Heng—we *will* grow old together.”

Qiu Heng’s heart stirred, just slightly.

He said *will*, not *shall*—so little confidence?

True, it truly was difficult.

Recalling the intensity of her last *fa zuo*, Qiu Heng herself harbored little confidence.

Her fervent heart gradually cooled—leaving only sorrow.

How vexing—meeting Xue Han, this stumbling block, had not only derailed her plans but also unsettled her heart…

“A-Heng?”

Qiu Heng snapped back to reality, rose onto her tiptoes, lifted her head—and softly kissed Xue Han’s cheek.

Xue Han’s face flushed instantly, his eyes shining like cold stars.

With a racing heart, the young man heard his beloved whisper, “Alright—we’ll grow old together.”

The snow still showed no sign of letting up, and the day was growing late.

"Time to head home."

"I'll walk you home."

This time, Qiu Heng did not refuse.

They walked side by side, the snow-white cloak and the ink-black cloak occasionally brushing against each other, just like their owners who were quietly drawing closer.

Qiu Heng suddenly turned back and saw two long trails of footprints left in the shallow snow—proof of the path they'd walked together.

"Xue Han, do you like snow?"

"I didn't use to," Xue Han said frankly. "When I was a kid, the colder it got, the tougher things were at home. But now... I do like it."

From now on, every time snow falls, he would think of this snow—how could he not like it?

"I like snow," Qiu Heng said lightly, her steps light as she smiled at Xue Han. "And I'll like it even more from now on."

They were almost at Earl Yongqing's mansion.

Qiu Heng smoothed her disheveled hair and, under Xue Han's sheepish gaze, pulled up her hood to cover it. "I'm heading in."

No longer needing to climb over the wall, Qiu Heng was warmly let in by the gatekeeper and returned to Cold Fragrance Residence.

Fang Zhou came forward, reaching out to take Qiu Heng's cloak. "Miss, were you out for a long time? How'd you get so much snow on you—oh, miss, why's your hair such a mess?"

"Messy?" Qiu Heng said without changing her expression. "Probably from the hood. Let me take a look."

She walked to the dressing mirror and sat down, looking not at her hair in the reflection, but at her lips.

Fang Zhou leaned in. "Miss, your face is so red. You're not getting a fever, are you?"

"My hair really is a disaster. Fang Zhou, help me comb it out, please." Qiu Heng deftly changed the subject.

"Alright." Fang Zhou picked up the comb and frowned. "Your hair is all wet, miss. You'd better take a bath first, so you don't catch a cold."

Settling into the steaming hot bath, the warmth of the water replaced the heat on her face, and Qiu Heng completely relaxed.

"Fang Zhou, I saw Xue Han today and asked him what happened to nanny Su."

Fang Zhou paused, holding the ladle. "How is she?"

"A brothel bought her."

Fang Zhou curled her lip. "That's letting her off easy. At least she can still boss them around in front of those courtesans."

Brothels usually buy a nanny like Su, who came from a prominent household, to teach prostitutes etiquette and broaden their horizons.

"At her age, ending up in a brothel, she won't end well." Qiu Heng looked at Fang Zhou with gentle eyes. "Don't be upset about nanny Su anymore. Tomorrow, if the snow is thick enough, we'll build a snowman."

Fang Zhou smiled and nodded. "Alright."

But the snow stopped that night, and the next day the sun came out, melting even the snow from the day before. The snowman was never built.

The next day, Qiu Heng went early to Prince Kang's mansion, and a large group set out in a grand procession toward the western suburbs.