Legend of Fu Yao

The person that Meng Fuyao had met and the way and methods in which she had met the person were the most correct.

Yet fate would always find ways to play with her—she was unable to have the person she had the fortune of meeting.

Meng Fuyao blinked several times, desperately fighting the tears welling in her eyes as she watched Yan Jingchen’s solitary and somber figure under the light. Pursing her lips, she wrote on Zhangsun Wuji’s palm, ‘I want to kill Mist.’

Zhangsun Wuji paused momentarily before replying, “Fine.”

Silently sucking in a breath, Meng Fuyao smiled.

‘Yan Jingchen, I killed your wife, now I can only kill your master as compensation.’

Yan Jingchen was not aware that at this moment two people had made a decision regarding his life while watching him perform the soul ritual for his dead wife. He scattered the paper money quietly, the cool jade container becoming slightly warm in his embrace. This was the first time he had ever held Pei Yuan so closely.

That arrogant woman eventually nestled quietly in his arms in this manner.

The mouth of the container was frost-like cold, like the snow of the previous year’s winter, landing on Yan Jingchen as he drank wine in solitary, the ground littered with empty jars—that time, he had just met Mist not long ago, and had the “fortune” of being selected by him to be his disciple. In the beginning he enjoyed himself, but it soon became a nightmare, and even worse was that this was made known to several fellow disciples of noble descent, who slowly spread an inside joke within the noble Yan Jing clan—using ambiguous tones, awkward glances, sneers, and other mocking gestures to express themselves.

That kind of joke was the same as placing a formless wall in front of him, despite being unable to see or feel it, it stood there coldly in front of him, and he had been hurt many times by it. Yet, no amount of energy could break it. The tongues of others had always been the greatest trap on earth, killing without counting, and the more one struggled, the more one was hurt by it.

Then, she appeared.

There were changes in the palace of Taiyuan, and after the country was rebuilt, she appeared for the first time.

He had thought that she wanted to mock him and used his sleeve to cover his face, but instead, she had sat down and, in a rather uncouth manner, grabbed a jar of wine and finished it in one gulp.

After the wine had been finished, she flung the jar away and stared into the mountain scenery, partially hidden by clouds. Following the sound of the jar smashing into pieces at the bottom of the cliff, she had said, “I’ll marry you.”

He had turned to look at her in shock, but she had not been looking at him; she was staring straight ahead with a quiet determination. She had steadied her voice and stood up, saying, “Come at my clan and apply in three days.”

He had been afraid to apply to the Pei family again, afraid of being humiliated once more, but Mist had been happy, and he had said, “It’s rare to have someone who is willing. Actually, I don’t really care about this, you’re the one that’s easily ashamed. Since she’s willing to marry you, then your life is already complete. I’ll personally send the invite for you.” Following that, he left. When he came back, he happily told Yan Jingchen, “Prepare to get married.”

Only after that he realized that Pei Yuan had used those three days to console a raging General Pei and that she had also discussed things with Mist. As for what she had sacrificed to reach such an outcome, he would never be able to know the answer.

He would never know how she felt, being husband and wife yet having to sleep in different rooms, and that she would always sit alone by a flame, watching the candlelight in his room.

After that, the rumors spread—that Pei Yuan’s marrying down was her biggest mistake.

How much she had sacrificed for him was how much he owed her.

She loved him, he loved another her, yet she loved another him.

How many lives had been played by fate?

Yan Jingchen gently touched the jade container and placed his cheek on it. The slight coolness of the container felt familiar, similar to her temperament, carrying a cold, piercing pride that was unkind, even poisonous, yet only he knew that she had given her entire life’s passion to him.

Just that from then on, the single, flickering flame that gave him warmth was extinguished by the coldness of fate.

Yan Jingchen hugged the jade container tightly and meekly turned back. The people watching him on the wall continued to watch his retreating figure sorrowfully. Even Lord Yuan Bao had wriggled out of Zhangsun Wuji’s sleeve and nestled itself between the two of them as it watched Yan Jingchen scatter paper money as he left, its round, black eyes moistening slightly as it thought, ‘Back then at Qiongcang, that beautiful and brilliant black pearl…’

Yan Jingchen’s shadow was long and solitary behind him.

Yet, the night was interrupted by a raucous noise.

There were two people, singing and laughing loudly as they stumbled into the alley and the crisp sound broke the melancholic silence.

“Big Brother, let’s drink… let’s drink another three jars!”

“I’m not drunk… hic… I’m not drunk!”

“Don’t… avoid me… You despicable… I’m as pretty as a flower, yet you avoid me!”

“Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!”

Ya Lanzhu laughed loudly as she sang, stumbling zigzaggedly. She was laughing gleefully, and the burden was on her unlucky drinking buddy who was supporting her arm carefully, swaying with her.

Sitting on the wall, Meng Fuyao narrowed her eyes. ‘Since when did Ya Lanzhu go drinking with Yun Hen? How did she get so drunk?’

Ya Lanzhu began to sing. “Big Brother march forward bravely, Little Sister will chase you without turning back, Big Brother you’ve exhausted three horses, Little Sister will exhaust nine cows…”

Meng Fuyao snorted and fell against Zhangsun Wuji’s shoulder, desperately trying to hold in her laughter. ‘This girl’s ability to modify the lyrics is way too powerful, how did the song, upon reaching her lips, suddenly kill off horses and cows?’

She laughed until her shoulders trembled, looking like a silent butterfly under the dim light. Zhangsun Wuji smiled faintly and pulled her into his chest. He lowered his head, thinking that the lyrics were actually rather apt and he could also use it on himself.

Lord Yuan Bao squatted on its master’s shoulder, looking at Meng Fuyao reproachfully. ‘You still have the audacity to laugh? Not you, what would we of noble descent know what is called vulgar?’

The two drunkards stumbled down the alley, and when they crossed paths with Yan Jingchen, Yan Jingchen frowned and covered the jade container with his hand, afraid that they would knock into it. Retreating to one side, he waited for them to pass by.

Yet, just as Ya Lanzhu walked past him, she suddenly felt an urge to vomit. She could have just vomited on the streets, but she just had to be a princess and was used to vomiting into something. She looked around dazedly, and upon seeing that Yan Jingchen was carrying a container, she immediately reached out and grabbed at it.

Yan Jingchen’s eyebrows shot up as he raised an arm to push her when Yun Hen immediately pulled Ya Lanzhu back and blocked the blow, snarling, “She’s drunk and doesn’t mean it, why must you be so vicious!”

The two’s elbows clashed as they raised their heads, and upon seeing each other under the light, both of them went “ah” and said in unison, “It’s you.”

Yan Jingchen’s face darkened as he glanced at Yun Hen, before putting down his hand and leaving. Yun Hen watched him, his eyes flashing with hostility when Ya Lanzhu stumbled over. Seeing that she was about to crash into the wall, Yun Hen could only catch her. Ya Lanzhu’s limbs were flinging about, and a tearing noise could be heard as Yun Hen’s robes were torn by the drunkard and an object fell onto the ground with a clatter.

However, Yun Hen did not hear the object fall as he frantically tried to support a dead drunk Ya Lanzhu, unsure where to hold, eventually settling for dragging her by the collar. He was about to leave when he heard Yan Jingchen’s voice, “Stay there.”

Yun Hen turned around only to see Yan Jingchen holding onto a little green and gold stone swallow. His expression changed as he leaned Ya Lanzhu against a wall, ready to launch himself.

Yan Jingchen retracted his hand, saying solemnly, “Where did you get this thing from?”

“Return it to me!”

“Where did you get it from?”

“I said, return it to me!”

Yan Jingchen stuffed the swallow into his robes and said coldly, “This is the mark given to the sons of the Yan clan at birth, nobody but direct descendants of the Yan clan can have it. If you don’t tell me how you got it, I won’t return it to you.” With that, he turned to leave.

Yun Hen immediately launched himself at him.

Before he could reach him, Yan Jingchen retreated, his blade already unsheathed. With a swift movement, Yun Hen deflected the blade with his palm, creating a thunderous sound upon contact.

The two actually started fighting.

On the wall, Meng Fuyao called out, “Why did you guys start fighting?” She was too far away and couldn’t hear what they were saying, only that Yan Jingchen had picked something up, Yun Hen had demanded it back, and then the two began fighting in earnest.

Zhangsun Wuji tugged her hand and looked over, saying casually, “There are some things that if buried in time for too long, they will be discovered by fate.”

The wind howled in the little alley as Yun Hen, and Yan Jingchen fought, but their fight soon quickly came to an end.

Yan Jingchen fighting with one hand was simply not Yun Hen’s opponent, yet Yun Hen was not in the mood to fight; he just wanted to quickly take back what was his. Exchanging a dozen moves, Yun Hen’s blade had already suppressed a single-handedly fighting Yan Jingchen.

Yan Jingchen pursed his lips and watched as Yun Hen continuously accommodated him despite having the advantage. A hint of suspicion flashed past his eyes as he suddenly thrust the jade container in his hands forward as he shouted, “My wife’s ashes!”

Yun Hen’s blade was swift as lightning, but in that instant, Yan Jingchen’s voice sounded out as his blade was about to land on the jade container. Upon hearing him, Yun Hen fell back in shock as the rebound force of his sword pushed him back a step.

Immediately, the blade of a gleaming sword was pressed lightly against his throat.

Watching the fight on the wall, Meng Fuyao thought that Yun Hen would definitely win and did not expect this outcome. In shock, she muttered “despicable” and was about to leap down when she was stopped by Zhangsun Wuji.

Following that, she noticed the expression in Yan Jingchen’s eyes.

That tumultuous, mixed expression filled with confusion and suspicion.

She also saw the movement of his mouth.

He was saying, “Little Brother.”

The words “Little Brother” drifted through the evening wind, despite its softness, striking the hearts of those who heard it.

Upon hearing his words, Yun Hen stumbled, suddenly finding himself at the mercy of Yan Jingchen’s blade. He stood there, unable to complete his action, giving others the impression that he had turned to ice under the rays of dusk.