Debris continued to fall, and beams collapsed one after another. Shen Jianhe brushed the dust from his face and urgently asked again, “You found the mechanism. What do you think we should choose?”
He Sui’an said, “The mulberry tree.”
Qi Buyan said, “The mulberry tree.”
At that moment, they simultaneously placed their hands on the mulberry tree pattern on the ironwood coffin. Their fingers touched and overlapped.
The young man seemed able to remain calm regardless of the time or place, or perhaps he was indifferent. He wasn’t worried about dying; instead, he couldn’t help but study He Sui’an’s hand.
So small.
Much smaller than his.
Zhong Kong became anxious, “You say it’s the mulberry tree just like that? Didn’t we tell you that the wife of Yan King was named He Hua? Why are you choosing the other one?”
He Sui’an quickly explained, “Long story short, I read a book that mentioned Yan Wuheng’s wife liked the mulberry tree.”
“What book?” Zhong Kong asked.
She replied, “I’ll tell you later.”
Zhong Kong wanted to stop He Sui’an from pressing the mulberry tree, but Su Yang stopped him, “I trust her. No one would gamble with their own life.”
When they pressed the mulberry tree pattern on the ironwood, a large stone fell from above, crashing down, and the Yan King’s tomb completely collapsed.
At that moment, Fengling Town shook.
The townsfolk thought it was an earthquake and rushed out, only returning to their homes when the shaking stopped for a while.
In the Jingsi Study, He Hua, who had been sleeping on the table by the window, woke up. Unlike the others, she didn’t rush out of the house. Instead, she looked out from the second floor as the evening breeze brushed her face.
He Hua closed the window.
She had another strange dream.
In the dream, He Hua had a husband who treated her very well. When others said that a mute person was unlucky, he defied the opposition and married her.
After marriage, they were very harmonious and loving. Her husband also had a sister who treated her well, but He Hua could never see the faces of the people in her dreams clearly. Perhaps most dreams were like that.
Outside the window.
Two people stood on the tall building opposite.
Yan Luoxu’s abdominal wound had been hastily treated. She stared blankly at the closed window, feeling a deep sense of melancholy and change.
Back then, after Yan Wuheng gave them the longevity Gu, he begged Yan Luoxu, before his death, to find a way to erase all memories of him from both her and He Hua, not wanting them to suffer even after living forever.
She used the Gu to erase He Hua’s memory but did not erase her own.
Yan Luoxu thought it over again and again.
In the end, she couldn’t bear to let her brother be completely forgotten by the woman he loved.
Yan Luoxu told the memory-erased He Hua about King Yan’s past and finally said that King Yan had once saved her life, portraying herself as a mere servant who wanted He Hua to forever remember his kindness.
For hundreds of years, after the emperor of Great Yan accused Yan Wuheng of rebellion and forbade the people from discussing him, erasing all traces of him, few remembered him.
Yan Luoxu and He Hua were among the few who did.
There was not much recorded about him in the history books.
He Hua never understood why she could live for so many years and could never find the reason.
Yan Luoxu and He Hua had separated hundreds of years ago, and He Hua didn’t know that Yan Luoxu had also survived, thinking she was the only one who was different.
Yan Luoxu would occasionally go to secretly check on her, never being discovered by He Hua.
At this moment, a breeze blew across the tall building.
The masked man reminded Yan Luoxu.
“It’s getting late, and if you don’t properly treat your wound, even with the pill I gave you, you won’t make it through the night. The master sent me to take you away, not to bring back a dead person.”
Yan Luoxu said nothing and left with him.
Shortly after Yan Luoxu left, He Hua opened the window again, unable to explain why she felt the sudden urge to do so.
Two carriages passed along the long street below the Jingsi Library. He Hua glanced at them.
The horses ran fast, almost in a flash.
She withdrew her gaze.
She didn’t see that one of the carriage curtains was blown open by the wind, revealing He Sui’an lying on Qi Buyan’s lap inside, her dress wrinkled and her face covered in dust like a little dirty cat.
*
The two carriages stopped at the inn’s back door.
These two carriages were prepared by Zhong Kong at Su Yang’s instruction before they went into the tomb, just in case. They were now being put to good use.
Because of the recent tremor, many townsfolk had rushed outside, so the curfew in Fengling Town was considerably relaxed tonight. They encountered a few patrols along the way, but upon recognizing her as the princess, they were quickly let through.
Su Yang stepped down from the front carriage, holding her skirt.
Shen Jianhe had ridden with her.
Exhausted and fast asleep in the carriage, He Sui’an was carried down by Qi Buyan. Su Yang clasped her hands in a gesture of thanks.
She sincerely said, “Although we each had our own reasons, I still want to thank you. Without your help, we might not have made it out alive.”
The Zhong brothers also clasped their hands in salute.
Shen Jianhe, ever the proper one, returned the salute seriously, “The princess is too kind.”
He then leaned in and whispered in her ear.
“Don’t worry.”
Hearing these simple two words, Su Yang glanced at him. Shen Jianhe spoke softly enough for only them to hear, “I won’t tell anyone that your father was also at the tomb tonight.”
She took a step back, “Thank you.”
She spoke quietly as well.
Seeing this, Zhong Kong felt a strong urge to punch Shen Jianhe.
Qi Buyan, uninterested in prying into others’ privacy, was still holding He Sui’an and naturally did not return the salute. Moreover, he wasn’t the type to return salutes.
Su Yang returned to her carriage, and the Zhong brothers each drove a carriage away from the back door of the inn.
Shen Jianhe sighed in frustration.
This tomb exploration had yielded nothing for him. No, he did gain something: a body full of wounds that would cost money to heal.
Qi Buyan didn’t linger outside and headed back to the inn.
Shen Jianhe caught up with him.
He looked at He Sui’an in Qi Buyan’s arms, “Is Miss He injured and passed out? Should we get a doctor to check her…”
Qi Buyan replied, “She’s just asleep.”
He Sui’an even let out a small snore.
“Snore… snore…”
Understanding that extremely tired people sometimes snore a bit, Shen Jianhe didn’t pursue the conversation. He went back to his room to tend to his wounds.
Qi Buyan carried He Sui’an back to their room and called the night attendant to prepare bathwater. The attendant quickly brought up hot water, bucket by bucket, for their use.
After the attendant delivered the water, he went downstairs, leaving the two of them alone in the room.
Qi Buyan called He Sui’an a few times, trying to wake her for a bath. She was so exhausted that she remained in a deep sleep, staying in the exact position Qi Buyan had placed her in when they returned.
After Qi Buyan finished his bath, He Sui’an was still asleep, curled up in a small ball on the carpet.
Her dark hair fell loosely with a silk ribbon, and her sleeves had slipped down to her elbows, revealing her dust-covered wrists and the red marks from the falling debris.
“He Sui’an,” Qi Buyan said softly as he slowly bent down.
He picked up a ribbon from her hair with his fingertips, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her. “He Sui’an, wake up and clean yourself.”
Qi Buyan liked keeping things clean, including his Gu. He often tossed them into water, letting them splash around before pulling them out, nice and clean.
He believed people should be kept clean, too.
He Sui’an, disturbed in her sleep, waved her hand weakly and let it fall back onto the carpet, burying her head and continuing to sleep. Her body, completely exhausted, acted on pure instinct.
The ribbon slipped from Qi Buyan’s fingers, leaving a trace of dust behind.
It was clear how dirty He Sui’an had become after the collapse of the Yan King’s tomb. Her face, ribbon, and long hair were all covered in a layer of grime, and the rest of her was no better off.
“Aren’t you really going to clean yourself?” Qi Buyan tried again to wake her.
He Sui’an, hearing the word “clean,” briefly opened her eyes. Against the light, she could only see a silhouette with long hair, resembling a beautiful woman. She managed to open her eyes for a moment before closing them again.
Seeing her open her eyes, Qi Buyan thought she was waking up.
She mumbled, “You help me.”
“Help you?” he asked.
“Mm,” He Sui’an responded through her nose.
Qi Buyan then picked her up, undressed her, and placed her into the new bath. The warm water was soothing to her body, relieving the soreness in her limbs, allowing her to fall into an even deeper sleep.
As Qi Buyan’s gaze unintentionally swept over her, he noticed the differences between them, observing them more closely.
He had seen them before in the Yan King’s tomb but hadn’t looked carefully then. Now, with a closer look, Qi Buyan noticed several distinct differences. He felt no particular emotions about it and simply took a cloth, wiping away the dirt from He Sui’an’s body.
He Sui’an’s head kept bobbing up and down in the bathwater, threatening to submerge. Qi Buyan, with his characteristic patience, would periodically steady her head.
Qi Buyan was known for his patience.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to stay in that confined space, day in and day out, year after year, refining Gu without sleep.
If not for the people of Tianshui Village coming up the mountain a dozen times a year to request his Gu refining skills or deliver the things he needed, and his frequent conversations with animal corpses and Gu insects, he might have lost the ability to speak.
The people of Tianshui Village respected and feared Qi Buyan.
They feared him because he could refine poison Gu and because he often talked to animal corpses and Gu insects.
Once, a man from Tianshui Village, with no one to care for his child, brought him up the mountain.
The child, seeing Qi Buyan talking to the Gu insects, blurted out, “Father, is he crazy? Why is he talking to bugs?”
The man quickly slapped the child and covered his mouth to stop his crying, frantically apologizing to Qi Buyan.
Qi Buyan knelt down to the child’s level and softly asked, “Why can’t I talk to them?”
The child sniffled, “I-I don’t know.”
“Oh,” the young man replied as he stood up.
That night, the child went home and broke out in a rash, sick for half a month.
These memories rippled like disturbed water. In the brightly lit inn, the candlelight cast shadows on the wooden floor.
Qi Buyan’s fingers, submerged in the water, appeared white and jade-like. The water flowed through his fingers, washing over the places where insects had once bitten her. It was all part of her and needed to be cleaned.
Yet, it felt slippery, as if it could never be cleaned thoroughly.
As he explored a deeper crevice with his finger, trying to wipe away the persistent slipperiness, he accidentally discovered a space that could fit a small segment of his finger. It became even more slippery.
He Sui’an’s eyes snapped open, instantly alert. She wanted to speak but remembered their earlier conversation, cursing herself for always responding in confusion.
Qi Buyan noticed that she had opened her eyes again.
“Almost done,” he said.
He Sui’an glanced down, feeling as though if she looked any longer, she might struggle to breathe.
