Shichahai (5)

Her lips parted, but she said nothing. After a long pause, she asked, "And you, sir, do you treat me as you do others?" It was the same question she'd asked before—the one he hadn't answered.

He fell silent as the wind howled past.

Ye Qianran forced a smile, her voice gentle and delicate, yet tinged with resolve. "Since even you cannot answer, what meaning could my answer possibly hold?" Her words were carried away by the wind, drifting farther and farther.

He opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but in the end, said nothing.

Soft whispers traveled on the breeze. On the sea, waterbirds perched on barren branches, necks entwined in repose. Lotus blossoms rippled gracefully in the wind. After a while, the wind scattered his faint sigh.

In the distance, Ye An and Meng Lanli waved at them. Ye Qianran composed herself and walked toward them.

On the water, figures could be seen boating across the lake. In the pavilion, a handsome young man dressed in white as pure as snow held a chess piece in one hand and a fan in the other, his brows slightly furrowed as he pondered his next move. On the shore, graceful women played in the water. Birds occasionally darted across the sea, skimming its surface like dragonflies. Approaching were Ye An and Meng Lanli—the man handsome and dashing, the woman charming and lovely—a perfect pair. Such a rare opportunity for them to be alone together, Ye Qianran thought, and she mustn't spoil it. Looking down, she spotted a small stone, and an idea struck her. She walked deliberately toward it, and with a feigned stumble, cried, "Oh!"

Zhuge Liuyun immediately supported her, the pain making her gasp. Ye An and Meng Lanli exchanged a glance and hurried over, their voices full of concern. "What happened, what happened?"

Ye Qianran spoke with a hint of pain, "I twisted my ankle."

Zhuge Liuyun carefully assisted her, fearful of hurting her further, step by step guiding her into the pavilion to sit. Meng Lanli's expression showed worry as she squatted beside Ye Qianran, examining her ankle and softly asked, "Does it still hurt, little sister?"

Ye Qianran now acted as though nothing was wrong. "Sister, it's nothing, don't worry." She shot Ye An a look, meaning to use her twisted ankle as an excuse to keep Zhuge Liuyun with her, leaving the other two free to boat together. At first, Ye An didn't grasp her intention, prompting Ye Qianran to silently curse his dullness, feeling her gaze was nearly askew. Finally, Ye An understood, and Ye Qianran nodded with relief. Ye An pulled Meng Lanli aside and whispered in her ear, "My sister did this on purpose. She wants to be alone with Liuyun and signaled me to leave."

Meng Lanli cast Ye Qianran a complicated look and whispered back to Ye An, "What shall we do then?"

"Let's go boating," he replied.

Turning back, Ye An glanced at Ye Qianran, gave her a meaningful look, and patted Zhuge Liuyun's shoulder earnestly. "I leave Qianran to you, Brother Liuyun. We'll go boating—take good care of my sister." With that, he and Meng Lanli ran off, laughing as they went.

Ye Qianran stared after them, bewildered. This wasn't how she'd envisioned things. What was her brother up to?

Turning around, she found Zhuge Liuyun's gaze fixed on her. In that instant, she understood why Sister Meng had looked at her that way—so that's how it was... Her face flushed crimson, her eyes cast down, afraid to meet his gaze lest he misunderstand. She was about to explain, but he smiled and shook his head, indicating she need not. Then he rose and sat on the stone bench beside her, saying, "Whatever the case, the goal was achieved, don't you think?"

Ye Qianran stared at him in disbelief, surprised. "How did you know I was pretending?"

Zhuge Liuyun saw the hint of innocence in her expression and couldn't help but smile. He reached out to touch the hair at her temple, but his hand froze in midair, suddenly realizing that the girl before him was no longer the girl she once was.

A bitter smile touched Zhuge Liuyun's lips as he turned away, refusing to look at her.

Ye Qianran, sensitive as ever, caught the fleeting sorrow in his eyes. She stood slowly, gazing at the sky, its azure clarity unmarred by a single blemish. At length, she spoke, "I'm not afraid, nor do I have nothing to say. It's just that you have too many secrets, and I dare not disturb them." Her voice was cool, free of joy or sorrow.

Turning, Ye Qianran began to walk slowly along the shore. Zhuge Liuyun walked beside her, silent.

The air flowed gently around them, each lost in their thoughts.

They walked farther and farther along Shichahai, the distant mountains growing closer, their beauty like darkened brows. The riverbank was thick with wild grass, lush and verdant. Unnamed branches grew askew, and in the distance, faint notes of a cold flute could be heard. The ground was soft beneath their feet, with the sun slanting ever lower. Occasionally, a crow flew past, its cry harsh and mournful. Ye Qianran wondered what scenery awaited her at the end of the road; she only wished to keep walking, endlessly.

After a long time, Zhuge Liuyun reached out and caught her arm, halting her steps. Ye Qianran tilted her head, looking at his slender, pale fingers that held her, her gaze drifting to his clear, handsome face. His voice was soft, almost a sigh. "Qianran, don't keep walking."

She seemed to look at him and yet not, her head shaking dreamily, her voice hazy as if in a dream. "I don't want to go back."

With that, she stepped forward again, moving through the grass, walking slowly. Zhuge Liuyun sighed, watching her retreating figure. The wind lifted her robes and tousled her hair—proud, stubborn, and headstrong, so much like that woman from years ago. He followed her quietly.

His indifferent tone carried the distant echo of memory, his voice sounding in her ear. "I once met a woman very much like you."

Ye Qianran's steps faltered for a brief moment, waiting quietly for him to continue.

"Her background was unremarkable; her parents were ordinary folk in the capital. But she was unlike anyone I had ever known—kind, beautiful, resilient. I fell hopelessly in love with her. We made vows beneath the moon and among the flowers. I promised her I would marry her, gave her hope for a bright future. But on her wedding day, I lacked the courage even to step out my door. I couldn't defy my father, nor could I disobey him. I watched helplessly as she married an old man well past his prime, powerless to stop it."

As he recounted these memories, Zhuge Liuyun's face remained impassive, but the hoarseness in his voice betrayed him. In his dark eyes lay fathomless pain; whenever he thought of her radiant smile, his heart ached unbearably. Ye Qianran saw his tightly knit brows and felt a tumult of emotions—bittersweet and complex.

She wanted to comfort him, but found no words. She was merely an outsider to this love; she could neither comment nor had any right to do so.

"Before her wedding, she came to find me. Full of hope, she said, 'Let's run away together. It doesn't matter where, as long as we're together.' I promised to meet her in the peach blossom grove three days later, but I broke my promise. In the end, I failed her."

He opened his palm, damp with cold sweat, his thumb repeatedly rubbing his palm. After a long time, he laughed at himself, his brows furrowed even deeper. "I was never a good person—never in the past, and not now." His words were scattered by the wind, each syllable falling upon her heart.

Ye Qianran gazed at him, a rush of bitterness flooding her heart. For the first time, she liked someone—yet it happened to be him. His heart had long been filled by another woman before her; all his thoughts were for that woman. Even if she would never be with him, there was no space left for anyone else. Suddenly, Ye Qianran envied the woman she had never even met. What kind of woman was she, to leave such a lasting impression?

"Qianran, you are a clever woman. You know what you want. But I am not. I have never deserved anything, nor have I ever wanted for anything. Do you understand?"

Ye Qianran forced a bitter smile. How could she not understand? He had said so much, but this last sentence was the true purpose. He truly knew how to reject someone with the most effective words—not a single cruel remark, and yet it was enough for Ye Qianran to lose all hope. He told her he could never forget that woman, nor could he ever love another.

Ye Qianran no longer stubbornly pressed forward; she didn't walk to the end of the path to see the unknown scenery. Perhaps it never belonged to her anyway.

Brilliant clouds, like spilled oil paints, spilled across the horizon, framing the crimson sunset. The sun, like a drunken old man, stumbled into the sea, turning the blue waves a dazzling red, as if ignited by flames. In the distance, returning birds circled above the sea, their wings brushing the evening glow and casting a shadow. The sunset stretched their shadows long. Ye Qianran's cheeks were dyed scarlet by the setting sun; somehow, as she walked, tears fell unexpectedly, dropping onto the soft grass. She could go no further, crouching amidst the grass, her tears flowing like broken pearls, unable to restrain herself.

A thousand grievances welled up in her heart, unbearable. The love had ended before it began. The one she had yearned for so long told her he could not love her, and she could not love him. How cruel this was.

His heart contracted. He crouched down, watching her cry like a child, trembling all over. His brows knotted tightly; he reached out as if to hold her, but in the end, lowered his hand helplessly.

Ye Qianran looked up at him through blurred tears. This was the man she loved—she loved him so much, yet he did not love her. He was unwilling to love her, preferring to bury his everything in that impossible woman rather than accept her. Her heart felt empty and miserable, like tender wheat battered all night by a dry wind.

"Hold me, hold me, won't you?" she asked. She could no longer restrain her feelings, nor did she wish to. At this moment, all she wanted was for him to hold her, nothing more.

Zhuge Liuyun's lips quivered uncontrollably; he struggled to contain himself. No, he was unworthy—he was unworthy of anything, able only to hurt others, unable to bring happiness.

Ye Qianran threw herself into his arms, holding him tightly. She abandoned all feminine restraint, let go of everything. In that moment, she only wanted to hold him. His embrace was so warm, so broad. Her face pressed tightly against his chest, wishing for time to stop right then—she wanted nothing else, only for him to be by her side.

Zhuge Liuyun's hand trembled as he stroked her back.

The woman in his arms was so real, so warm—not the cold figure from his dreams, no longer the one he could never reach, however desperately he tried. That waking terror often suffocated him.

He closed his eyes, and a surge of indescribable emotion rose in his heart.