Tears

Under the pale moonlight,

The familiar scene of the Shangguan family’s side courtyard was once again awash in the vibrant bloom of peach blossoms.

The long-broken swing creaked rhythmically, its mournful sound echoing through the night.

A closer look revealed that its two suspension ropes were not of the same color, suggesting a hasty, temporary repair had been made that very day.

Perched upon the swing, Shangguan Qiūyuè gazed up at the moon, utterly oblivious to the young man’s arrival.

Yún Mù stood by the entrance to the secluded courtyard, his gaze fixed on the tableau before him, a profound sense of familiarity washing over him, leaving him momentarily lost in a daze.

‘The last time I accompanied Miss on the swing… it must have been two years ago now.’

Yet, as he delved into his memories, what surfaced was not the stinging lash of a whip or the agony it inflicted, but rather the heart-wrenching sobs of the young girl.

He slowly advanced, approaching the young girl, his eyes tenderly observing her delicate, somewhat frail figure, a consequence of her prolonged illness.

Gently, he draped his outer garment over her slender shoulders.

Though a little large for her, the coat enveloped her perfectly, cocooning her in its comforting warmth.

The late spring breeze, stirred by the young man’s raised hand, brushed his dark green hair back from his face, a sensation that resonated with the same stirring in his heart as it had two years prior.

“Miss, the night air is chill.

Given your delicate health, it would be wise to take greater care.”

“Mm… thank you, Xiao Mu.”

The young girl was not her usual lively self, nor was she startled by this sudden presence behind her.

She merely swayed her feet gently, gathering the coat more closely around her.

“Miss, is something troubling you?”

“Eh? No, not at all.

I’ve only just woken up, so I’m still feeling a little muddled.”

“Is that so…”

Yún Mù gripped the ropes, but unlike his usual custom, he did not push the swing.

He was unwilling to risk harming the young girl again through any sudden lapse in his attention.

Naturally, her delicate constitution, vulnerable to the cold wind and easily susceptible to illness, was also a significant factor.

“Ah… I’m awake!

This young lady is fully revived!” After a prolonged silence, Shangguan Qiūyuè’s voice suddenly burst forth with a cheerful lilt.

Though a touch hoarse, it retained an ethereal quality that made it sound utterly endearing.

“Xiao Mu, did my behavior just now startle you?”

“Hm? Miss Qiūyuè, why would you say such a thing?”

“Eh, still ‘Miss Qiūyuè’?

It seems you’re still unwilling to call me simply Qiūyuè, aren’t you?” The young girl turned her head to look at the young man, just as she had two years ago, though this time her hair remained still.

“After all, I don’t seem… as lively as I usually am, do I?”

The young man instinctively lowered his gaze, only to raise it again and meet the girl’s captivating smile.

A blush, reminiscent of peach blossoms, bloomed in her eyes, as if fallen petals were gently caressing his very soul.

“Xiao Mu, do you still remember the first time we met?

I recall it so vividly.

You were just a tiny little thing back then, wearing what looked like a small green tunic.” She gestured to her chest.

“I even remember… you only came up to my chest back then, didn’t you?”

The young man nodded softly, a faint smile gracing his lips as an image blossomed in his mind: a tiny, fuzzy bundle of a child, clad in plush clothes, hiding by an adult’s feet and secretly peeking at him.

In his own memory, the girl had been even smaller back then.

“Xiao Mu, do you remember the first time we snuck out to play?

Even though we were eventually caught and both received a spanking, I still felt so happy.

It’s just… not getting to see the flower lanterns always felt like a bit of a regret.”

“If there’s a chance, we can go see them together, can’t we?”

“Mm, yes, if there’s a chance, we’ll go together.”

The young man nodded gently.

He remembered it was a day after a snowfall, and the young girl, proclaiming, ‘This young lady isn’t made of dough; I’m not afraid of any bad people outside!’, had dragged him far from the courtyard.

Though he had later received another private beating, the food they had shared, the sights they had beheld, and the words they had exchanged that day remained etched deeply in his heart.

“Miss Qiūyuè, I was very happy that day as well.”

“Honestly, Xiao Mu, I’ve told you already, you should call me Qiūyuè…”

Drip… drip…

The young man lowered his eyes, only for a smiling face, radiant as a blooming flower, to fill his vision.

Under the moonlight, tears glistened, tracing paths down the young girl’s cheeks, dampening the wooden planks and mingling with the dust.

Though tears were a soft thing, they pierced Yún Mù’s heart like sharp thorns.

“Oh dear, what’s wrong with me?” She gently wiped away the falling teardrops, only for more to well up and cascade down.

“It’s so strange, Xiao Mu, why am I suddenly crying?

I was talking about happy things; I’m being such a spoilsport…”

In that bewildered moment, the young girl found herself enveloped in an embrace.

“Qiūyuè…”

The name he whispered from his lips had finally changed.

The young girl’s pitiable state shattered every single chain in his heart, leaving only a thin wooden barrier before him, yet even that could not conceal the frantic pounding of his heart.

“Xiao Mu… you idiot, why did it take you until now to call me that…”

The young girl lightly pounded his chest, her touch revealing his body to be as bony as withered wood.

She paused, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, then lowered her hands and wrapped them around his waist, swallowing the words of complaint that had risen to her lips.

She caressed his uncomfortably bony back, tears streaming down her face, falling ceaselessly onto his patched garments.

“Xiao Mu, you absolutely must eat more from now on, okay?

If you stay this thin, no girls will ever like you.”

“Xiao Mu, you absolutely must not be so quiet and reserved in the future, okay?

Girls don’t like quiet boys.”

“Xiao Mu, I’ve actually secretly saved some money under that peach tree, okay?

When I’m gone, use that money to buy your freedom, to roam the jianghu (TL Note: A concept referring to the martial arts world or a vagrant lifestyle), to pursue true liberty.

Don’t remain trapped in this tiny courtyard.”

“Xiao Mu, the books say the world is vast.

Will you see it for me, okay?”

Her tears fell like rain, a continuous cascade of sorrow.

“…I’m sorry, Xiao Mu, just let me be a little willful for a while longer… okay?

Please call me Qiūyuè a few more times… okay?

I’m afraid… I’m afraid I won’t be able to hear it again in another world… Please call me Qiūyuè a few more times, okay, Xiao Mu, I’m so scared, I’m so scared…”

Her soft murmurs, though laced with a hint of childish coaxing, resonated with an undeniable sadness.

The young girl had long known of her frail health, and she had long understood that her illness was terminal.

At twelve years old, still innocent and naive, she naturally feared death, but even more so, she dreaded loneliness.

Each time she closed her eyes and drifted into slumber, the young girl felt as though she was enacting a prophecy of her own demise.

In that world of impenetrable darkness, she was tiny and alone, with no sun, no light, no parents, and no beloved Xiao Mu.

She was terrified of such a fate, and so…

She yearned to hear Yún Mù’s affectionate calls a few more times.

Perhaps then, after departing this world, accompanied by his voice and the voices of her parents, she might find her way home once more.

“Qiūyuè, there’s no need to be afraid, no need to be afraid…”

His weary voice enveloped her, and the young girl, with a faint smile playing on her lips and crystalline tears still clinging to the corners of her eyes, had already closed her eyes, her breathing now light and ethereal.

Beneath the moon, their twin shadows lay intertwined upon the ground.

****

Yún Mù gently lifted the young girl into his arms, casting a glance at the scattered peach blossoms covering the ground and the dappled shadows of the trees, before carrying her directly into the house.

He settled onto the edge of the bed, his gaze lingering on the young girl’s sleeping face, a soft smile unconsciously curving his lips.

As the memory of that thrilling kiss from a few days prior resurfaced in his mind, a flush crept across his cheeks.

“Miss Qiūyuè… please don’t worry.

Even if you can no longer hear me call you Qiūyuè, you will not be alone.

The Family Head and others will be with you, and you will meet many more friends and companions.”

“Miss Qiūyuè… please don’t worry.

I heard Master say that in the future, you will open some kind of ‘pulse gate’ (TL Note: A concept in cultivation novels, often referring to a spiritual pathway or meridian that, once opened, grants access to spiritual energy and abilities), converse with the stars in the heavens, and become an incredibly powerful cultivator.

By then, you will never have to fear death again.”

“Miss Qiūyuè… Master also said that powerful cultivators can live for an incredibly long time, thousands upon thousands of years.

If you live that long, you’ll probably forget me, won’t you?

While that thought brings a pang of sadness, I also see it as a form of liberation for me.

After all, I’ve heard that those who are deeply missed tend to linger at the Naihe Bridge (TL Note: The Bridge of Helplessness, a mythological bridge in Chinese folklore that souls must cross before reincarnation), and thousands of years is far too long to wait.

By then, Father, Mother, and even Master would surely scold me.”

“Miss Qiūyuè, time erodes all things.

I am merely a fleeting passerby in your life.

I should have died eight years ago… I… ah… I seem to have spoken too much.

My apologies.”

The young man’s voice trembled, yet it carried a distinct note of relief.

He then rose and walked towards the door, stepping outside as he softly murmured.

“If you ever encounter my reincarnation in the future, it would still be best not to speak with me.

After all, I wouldn’t remember you then, and what if I were to say something that inadvertently hurt your heart?”

“Because that would make me seem rather cruel, wouldn’t it?”

Outside the door, a gentle breeze swept through, scattering peach blossoms to the ground and stirring the deep-seated thoughts within the young man’s heart, as the moon shone ever brighter.