I had intended to make no further effort; my very life might not even belong to me, and I could offer her no promises. Yet, I could not restrain myself. I had still stepped onto the martial field to clash with Guan Shanping, and I had still succumbed to the single glare she shot me during the banquet at Jixi Tower.
All my love and past yearnings were revived by that single glance, as if returning to a time and place where she and I could still travel together without grievance or reserve. But my actual memories had long since blurred with the countless illusory moments of my imagination; I could no longer say for certain, nor even count, exactly when or where those moments had been.
And this resurrected affection poured forth like the torrential rain on the day she fell ill at Tianshan.
As that man kept watch over her, I truly felt that Heaven was far too fond of cruel jests. Standing below the steps, I watched him for a long time, thinking that I could likely give her everything a mundane man could—and give it better—if only I knew whether she was willing to accept it. But even if he was such a mediocre, common man, if the one she loved was simply "a man," then my virtues or vices, my promises or lack thereof, my love or my coldness, would have nothing to do with her at all.
Once I understood this, a sense of desolation took hold, bringing with it a numbness that felt almost like liberation, followed immediately by a sharp, piercing heartache. Furthermore, Mr. Feng’s letter arrived during those days, speaking of the helpless necessity of fabricating "auspicious omens" at Tianshan. It made me feel all the more that the nation knew no peace, the Emperor’s favor was thin, and honor and disgrace were as fickle as smoke. The world is but a grand dream; life is nothing more than a gust of wind passing a window or willow catkins dancing in the air—joy is scattered, and sorrow is scattered. My strength alone, as one named Wei, could not reach the heavens after all. What use were my exquisite schemes and thousand-fold calculations? What had I gained by struggling against fate? I could not even win her heart.
When we met in the peach blossom grove, she looked at me with a smile, yet I felt her eyes held neither love nor hate; she seemed immensely distant and strange. During the Xiuxi banquet, she was wearing the clothes I had gifted her years ago, yet she refused to cast a single glance my way. She seemed neither sad nor happy, content in her own world. She toyed with her wine cup, her head bowed in calculation—that much I could interpret—but I did not know if she was thinking of how to speak the words that would part us forever.
Regardless of how things ended between us, I am, after all, a thorough villain; how could I pass up such a perfect opportunity to humiliate Guan Shanping? Yet I did not expect that during the duel, as I struggled to restrain myself from killing him, my fury would burn hotter and hotter until it turned into a great heap of ashen despair. Knowing my expression must be hideous, I left the crowd to investigate the formation, simply because I did not wish to lose my composure in public.
I did not manage to trek a thousand miles for her sake. This time—the most crucial time—it was she who came running toward me.
From that moment on, she became the sum of all goodness in my world.
