Chapter Fifty-One: Experiencing Farewell

Another gust of wind swept by, making her cloak flutter and dance, snowflakes drifting into her eyes, chilling and delicate. Reflexively, Ye Qianran raised a hand to shield herself, only to catch sight in the distance of that white figure she had longed for day and night, striding toward her across the snow. He carried no umbrella; the snow, light as rain, dusted his shoulders, and his white robes billowed in the wind as he walked closer, step by step. Yet Ye Qianran’s heart was filled with grievance. Turning away, she retreated into the house and instructed Juanbi, “If he asks for me, say I’m unwell and resting.” Juanbi scratched her head, answering obediently, though she could not fathom the reason. She knew her mistress waited every day for Liuyun to come, yet now that he was here, she avoided him. It was truly perplexing. Still, Juanbi did as told, and respectfully informed him, “My lady is unwell and cannot see guests. I hope you’ll forgive us, sir.”

He smiled, the corners of his lips lifting with calm gentleness. “I understand.” Yet he made no move to leave.

In truth, Ye Qianran feared he would leave just like that, but her pride would not let her step out to him. She had waited for so long; he must at least say a few sweet words to coax her, mustn’t he?

Juanbi quietly withdrew, and Liuyun walked step by step to the beaded curtain. Behind it, Ye Qianran stood sideways, her heart pounding wildly. He stopped before the curtain, but did not move further.

A single step apart, the room was so silent it seemed they could hear each other’s breath. Neither spoke, both simply standing there, unable to see one another, yet acutely aware of each other’s presence.

At last, Liuyun reached out and grasped the beaded curtain, his voice low, “You don’t wish to see me?”

It was his familiar voice, the one that haunted her dreams; he was right before her. Whether out of feminine reserve or the desire to test him, Ye Qianran remained silent.

His voice grew dim, tinged with sorrow. “I understand. In that case, I’ll take my leave.” He turned, but had taken only two steps when the sudden clatter of beads sounded behind him. He turned sharply. Ye Qianran gripped the curtain with both hands, her expression blurred behind the beads, her voice stubborn but full of grievance, “Go then, go! I don’t care about you. I never wanted to see you anyway!”

Liuyun laughed softly. “Truly do not wish to see me?”

Ye Qianran turned her head with haughty pride. “No,” she insisted, though in her heart she longed for him to see through her pretense.

His smile was gentle, his gaze tender as he parted the curtain, his dark eyes deep as water. “But I want to see you.”

The grievances and anger pent up over days surged out all at once; tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to fall. She rarely cried, and least of all wished to show weakness before him, yet it was always in his presence that her tears came most easily. She quickly turned her head away, but he stepped through the curtain, caught her chin between his fingers, and gently turned her face back to him, gazing into her misted eyes as tears slid from the corners. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, his lips close to her ear, murmuring, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was late.”

She clung to him even more tightly. After a long moment, her tears ceased. She asked, “Did you already propose to my father? What did he say?”

Liuyun released her a little, reaching up to wipe the remaining tears from her eyes. “I haven’t spoken to Father Ye about it yet.”

Ye Qianran pushed him away abruptly, instinctively retreating two steps, disbelief written across her face.

A flash of anxiety crossed Liuyun’s features. He stepped forward, as if to take her hand, but she deftly avoided him. A cold smile touched her lips. “So that’s why you have delayed—because you’re unwilling. I was only fooling myself.” Her tone was as icy as the snow outside, utterly devoid of warmth. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode away, the suddenness of the change leaving her unable to think, unwilling to analyze; she only wanted to escape, to be far from him.

He caught her and pulled her back into his arms, gripping her struggling hands. When her hands were restrained, she resorted to kicking, so he turned sideways, pinning her firmly against the nearby table. “What’s gotten into you? Calm down.”

But Ye Qianran could not listen to reason in his presence; she never could. Once, being held by him felt blissful and sweet, but now it only brought pain. She struggled more fiercely, tears falling despite herself, staining the dark embroidery of his robe. Suddenly, his lips pressed against hers, and the world fell silent.

After a long time, she heard his voice by her ear, “I love you,” as if she were lost within a vast, iridescent dream.

It was the first time she had ever heard him say he loved her.

She stared at him, stunned.

He smiled as he brushed away her tears. “Why won’t you let me explain? Am I so unworthy of your trust?”

Ye Qianran asked dazedly, “What did you just say?”

He chuckled. “What do you think I said?”

She turned her head. “How should I know what you said?”

He drew her into his arms, sighing, “I love you.”

She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, her voice soft and gentle, “But why is it that you love me, yet won’t propose to my father? Aren’t you afraid I might fall in love with someone else, or that my father might marry me off to another?”

He laughed quietly, his hand stroking her hair as dark as ink, though his tone was utterly serious. “What’s mine will always be mine. Even if I leave, it remains mine. What isn’t mine will never be, even if I guard it every day. I want you by my side, but I don’t wish to bind you with a marriage contract. If you one day love another, then that is my misfortune. But I would rather be unfortunate myself than see you regret your future.”

She shifted her head against his shoulder, her voice muffled and soft. “I won’t love anyone else.”

He smiled silently. “When the war ends, I will come to the Ye residence to seek your hand, and ask Father Ye to betroth you to me. Will you agree?”

Ye Qianran nodded. “You said so yourself. I’ll remember it for a lifetime. You mustn’t go back on your word.”

Liuyun’s expression was indulgent as he smiled. “So long as you don’t deny it when the time comes.”

Suddenly recalling something, Ye Qianran released her hold on his neck and smiled sweetly. “Wait here for me.” She passed through the second green silk screen, opened the top drawer of her dressing case, and retrieved two crystal-clear dice. Returning to him, she opened her palm. Surprise and astonishment filled Liuyun’s eyes. “These are…”

Ye Qianran tilted her head with a smile. “The pair of dice I gave you before.”

He picked one up, incredulity in his voice. “How did they end up with you? I thought I’d lost them.”

“Don’t ask me how I got them back. I only want to know: wasn’t the first one thrown away by me? How did you come by it?” Ye Qianran’s head was cocked in puzzlement, though a subtle smile lingered on her lips.

Liuyun’s expression froze; he had no answer.

After a while, he seemed to find a plausible excuse. “That… well… a servant found it while sweeping the courtyard, so I kept it. I meant to return it to you, but then it went missing…”

Ye Qianran gazed at him with wide, unblinking eyes. Under her scrutinizing look, a faint flush crept up Liuyun’s ears, though his face remained composed; he couldn’t keep up the pretense.

She knew he was lying, but her heart brimmed with secret delight. In the past, he had been so flawless and unapproachable, it felt almost unreal. Now, his joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure seemed so genuine, so full of earthly warmth.

A shallow dimple appeared at her cheek, her smile mischievous and sly. She draped her arms around his, deliberately pressing her face to his ear. “Could it be you liked me even then? So you retrieved what I’d thrown away.”

Zhuge Liuyun, caught in his secret, blushed even deeper, though he forced an air of composure. “The servant found it, not I…” Before he could finish, Ye Qianran rose on tiptoe and placed a gentle kiss on his jade-like cheek.

Lifting her eyes, she sparkled with youthful charm. At sixteen, she was at her loveliest; every glance and smile was enchanting. “No matter what, I’ve chosen you.”

Liuyun embraced her, kissing her dark, lustrous hair, his voice soft yet clear, imprinting each word upon her heart. “Wait for me. You must wait for my return.”

Dusk fell, fine snow drifting down from the sky, brushing past withered branches and ancient vines, making a soft rustle. In the distance, plum blossoms were in full bloom; the wind stirred their fragrance through the world, clear and cold. She and he held each other close, savoring these last moments of tenderness.

On the first day of the second month, three hundred thousand troops assembled outside the capital, setting off for the southwest as scheduled. The night before, Liuyun came to bid farewell to Ye An, Ye Yuandao, and Wen Qiumei. Ye Yuandao clapped him on the shoulder, treating him almost as a son-in-law, and spoke many heartfelt words, which Liuyun listened to one by one. Wen Qiumei gazed at him with deep affection and said, “Go see Qianran. She’s been beside herself with sorrow.”

He dropped his eyes and smiled, sadness lingering in his gaze. Outside her door, he did not knock. He was afraid—afraid to see her beauty, afraid that one more embrace would make it impossible to let go. He stood silently by the west window for a long time.

Ye Qianran knew he was there, but did not go out to him. She, too, was afraid.

He borrowed a guqin, and seated himself cross-legged upon a smooth rock in the garden, his brocade robe loose and his posture solitary and desolate. The music he played was serene and distant, as clear as mountain streams, pouring forth in gentle cascades. Ye Qianran pushed open her window, peering out to see, behind the distant blossoms, the faint flutter of white robes.

She pressed a hand to her chest and shut the window with a snap. The music outside grew faint, gradually shifting from gentle warmth to somber melancholy. Ye Qianran closed her eyes, her fist clenched tight for fear that, if she let go, she would lose control.

He left, and Ye Qianran could not even summon the strength to stand.

That night, in her dreams, all she heard was the lingering sound of his guqin, winding through her thoughts.