The wasteland twenty li east of Jiugao City was a desolate expanse. Summer grass, drenched by a night of rain, had surged to over half a man’s height. Even the forest shade seemed thicker, capable of swallowing a herd of cattle or sheep without leaving a trace.
Though the sky was fully bright, the wild paths within the woods remained in a state of half-light and shadow. To a horse at full gallop, the world ahead was nothing but a blurred, chaotic mess of green.
For an inexperienced rider, galloping through such a dense thicket was no different from a blind person navigating a road.
Qin Jiuye could no longer remember how she had managed to pull Li Qiao onto the horse’s back, but her body still remembered the terror of the moment. She trembled from sheer exhaustion, and it was only thanks to the white horse’s steady footing that they had made it this far.
She did not dare stop, nor did she dare look back. Only when the surroundings fell completely silent, save for her own ragged breathing and the frantic rhythm of hooves, did she turn to lightly pat the person behind her.
"Li Qiao? Li Qiao..."
She called out urgently, and only after a long silence did she hear a faint response.
"Sister..." His voice was deep and low, like a mumble upon waking, or perhaps a private whisper to her. "...Let’s go home."
Could they just ask nothing, think of nothing, and return immediately to that small village, back to that stolen time?
He wanted to die in that dream, rather than in this wandering, uncertain dawn.
"Those people might still be lingering nearby. It’s one thing if I’m not afraid to die, but how can I drag Grandpa and Jinbao into this? If you want to die, don't drag others down with you!"
The woman’s voice shattered the silence of the dawn, dragging his soul back from the murky darkness and placing it firmly back onto the jolting saddle.
When he had first been pulled onto the horse, he felt only the searing, fiery pain of his wounds. Now that the initial shock had passed, his limbs felt numb with cold, and even speaking made his teeth feel stiff.
His body grew exceptionally heavy, pressing against Qin Jiuye’s back in a way that reminded her of the corpses she used to carry down the mountain. Something warm soaked through her clothes and onto her skin; she reached back to touch it, only to find her hand covered in blood.
It wasn't her blood, yet she felt a pang of distress as if she herself had been stabbed.
"Don't sleep, do you hear me? You can't sleep!"
But this time, no matter how sharp or anxious her tone, the person behind her gave no further response.
This couldn't continue. Even if those martial arts experts didn't catch them, a person with such severe injuries would have no way to survive.
Qin Jiuye wrapped the reins once more around her hand, struggling to get her bearings, and steered the horse toward a direction she remembered.
After another quarter-hour of stumbling progress, the two of them finally emerged from the woods. At the end of the overgrown path, a clearing appeared, occupied by a dilapidated wooden hut that had half-collapsed. A row of stone troughs and hitching posts out front suggested it had once been a relay station, abandoned after the river changed its course and flooded the area. It was some distance from the East Gate, and travelers rarely crossed the wasteland to reach this spot. The ruined house, nearly hidden by wild grass, was a perfect, secluded refuge.
Back when she was establishing the reputation of Guoran Residence, Qin Jiuye often visited nearby villages to see patients or collect debts. Over time, she had built up a loyal clientele. Once, after a late-night house call, she had discovered this place while seeking shelter from the rain and had used it as a temporary lodging ever since. Though she hadn't traveled as a wandering physician much in recent years, she still came here occasionally when gathering herbs to conduct research in peace.
At the time, she had thought that if she ever ran into trouble, she could hide here for a while. She hadn't expected that day to arrive so suddenly.
Qin Jiuye dismounted and observed the area from a distance for a moment before daring to approach. She skillfully brushed aside some wild jujube bushes, rolled away a piece of rotting wood, and revealed a small path hidden in the weeds.
A dull thud sounded behind her. Startled, she turned to see that the white horse had dumped the person on its back onto the ground like unwanted cargo. Its nostrils flared as it snorted, clearly disgruntled by the long, hard gallop.
Qin Jiuye knew she had no time to argue with a horse. She quickly soothed it, tied it in a concealed spot, and then hurried to help the man on the ground. She dragged and hauled him along the path toward the wooden hut.
The lush wild grass scraped against her legs with a rhythmic rustle. Every few steps, she looked back carefully to cover their tracks with dried grass. Finally, huffing and puffing, she crossed the broken threshold and dragged him into a corner covered in dry straw. She then scrambled to the base of the window, peering out through a large hole in the frame.
In the distance, the white horse was rubbing its rump against a tree trunk, its tail swishing leisurely as if it had entirely forgotten the danger they had just escaped.
This horse was quite spirited; if anyone with ill intent approached, it would surely react.
Withdrawing her gaze, Qin Jiuye finally relaxed slightly. The breath she had been holding all the way there finally escaped her, and her entire body began to tremble uncontrollably.
But she had no time to savor their survival. Dragging her weak, shaking legs to the youth’s side, she checked his pulse three times. Only when the sweat on her fingertips had completely dried did she speak through gritted teeth.
"If you're awake, stop pretending."
Li Qiao slowly opened his eyes. His gaze swept over the woman’s face before he quickly lowered his head.
Qin Jiuye stared intently at that blood-stained face. He looked slightly better than before, though his complexion was still terrifyingly pale.
He had always known how to feign weakness and disguise himself. Just as when she had first saved him, he had used this same pitiful, sickly appearance to earn three months of shelter. But now, knowing his true face, it was as if he had stepped out of a misty landscape painting to stand before her in plain view. The heavy colors and artistic strokes had faded, leaving only a bleak, ashen gray.
A suffocating silence spread between them. She felt as if she were back on that day she had searched for him with an umbrella to bring him home. He had been covered in blood, looking dangerous yet fragile, while she stood on the muddy road of Dingweng Village, facing a difficult choice.
After a moment, Qin Jiuye took a deep breath and stood up to head outside.
She had only taken two steps when her hem was caught.
She looked down to see two fingernails, white from the force of his grip, cautiously yet stubbornly pinching her skirt.
Blood seeped from his shoulder and back, flowing down his sleeve and coating his entire arm. His hands were covered in filth, save for those two fingertips which were relatively clean; he used those clean fingers to plead with her to stay.
"Where... where are you going?"
The light in his eyes flickered. When it brightened, it held an infinite longing; then, fearing that longing would go unfulfilled, it dimmed in an instant.
He thought she was going to abandon him, that she didn't want him anymore.
"Your injuries can't wait; they must be treated first. As for what comes after..." Qin Jiuye gently pried his fingers away, pausing for a moment before whispering, "What must come will come. Since we can't hide from it, we'll face it together."
She said no more. Her attitude was firm but cold as she busied herself within the ruined hut.
Last night’s wind and rain had dampened the kindling stored in the corner. She took out a fire-starter from a hidden spot, but after two or three tries, she failed to start a fire, producing only clouds of thick smoke.
Worried the smoke would attract unwanted guests, she didn't dare try again. Instead, she used a small ember to slowly dry the wood. She then quickly picked several medicinal herbs from a basket covered by a straw mat and crushed them. Half were placed in a ceramic jar set over the smoldering wood, while the other half were carefully wrapped in a dried lotus leaf and set aside.
Having done all this, she found a wooden bucket and briskly drew a pail of water from the well in the yard. When she returned to the hut, she found the youth already kneeling on the straw, waiting for her.
His knees were together, his back bowed low, and his arms were partially bent, supporting him in front. The bindings on his left hand had been removed, and his blade was back in its sheath. His empty hands were folded on the ground as if he were performing a formal prostration. Though she knew nothing of martial arts, she could tell this was not the posture of a warrior on guard, but rather the stance of someone awaiting punishment. There was no one before him, yet it was as if he were surrounded by high-ranking executioners holding disciplinary whips. He had forgotten the humiliation of this posture; his body only remembered obedience, and his face was a mask of numbness, a humility born of long-term conditioning.
In this moment, she finally understood the complex aura he carried.
He was never without his blade, yet he rarely drew it. He clearly knew martial arts, yet he almost never displayed his skills before others. He was young, yet he lacked the arrogance and recklessness of typical youths, possessing instead the submissiveness of one accustomed to serving others. He was adept at social nuances, yet he disliked being touched, and he especially could not bear the scrutiny of those in power.
The reason he hated the Academy so deeply and was so secretive about the World's Number One Villa was that he had once been an Asura reaper, traveling between the two, crossing back and forth between the shores of black and white.
He chopped wood in her courtyard every day because he was used to swinging a blade to kill. If he didn't chop wood, he would have to chop something else.
He was a blade forged for killing, ground to a lethal edge in the most brutal of ways, yet destined for a fate of rust and breakage.
Withdrawing her gaze and suppressing her thoughts, Qin Jiuye walked silently to him and set the water bucket down with a heavy thud. She then crouched down, her eyes lingering on him for a moment before she reached out to strip the blood-soaked clothes from his body. Sensing her intent, he suddenly flinched back.
He didn't dare meet her eyes, his head hanging low. He looked like a man crushed by an invisible weight. After a long while, he forced out a single word.
"...Dirty."
After saying this, he fell back into silence.
At this moment, he was more than just dirty. He was too hideous, too pathetic, too much of a failure, too useless. Without that polite, decent skin, without his meticulous way of doing things, he was nothing more than a numb and cruel executioner, no different from a butcher who slaughtered chickens and sheep every day.
No, he was far worse than a butcher. A butcher killed livestock to feed others; what did he kill for? Even he didn't know.
She saved people; he killed them.
She was a flower blooming in the mud; he was a bloody footprint in the snow.
The more resilient and untainted she was, the more it highlighted his own baseness and filth.
He didn't dare look up. He feared that the moment he did, he would see nothing but loathing and disgust in those clear, dark eyes.
The air fell silent for a moment. The woodpile in the corner made a faint crackling sound as it dried. After a long while, the woman finally spoke.
"Will you take them off yourself, or should I do it?"
She waited a long time for an answer. Just as she was about to say something else, the youth lowered his head and began to remove his outer garment.
The blood, now thick and dried, had glued the fabric to his skin. Every inch he pulled away tore at his flesh, yet he seemed to feel no pain, silently executing the command to "take off the clothes."
Qin Jiuye looked at that numb face, sensing that if she told him to die right now, he would probably do so without hesitation.
An indescribable emotion surged within her. She grabbed his hand, then tore a clean strip from her own hem, soaked it in the well water, and began to wipe his body, stroke by stroke.
Bloody water ran down his skin. As the filth was washed away, his scars were revealed in their entirety.
The torn flesh had begun to knit together, seemingly desperate to heal, but because the previous wounds had been deep enough to see bone, they were still a mangled mess.
It was either that secret formula stained with countless lives that had saved him, or the last remnants of the Clear Wind Powder in his system. But not everyone was so lucky as to escape the punishment of death time and time again.
Qin Jiuye repeated the cleaning motions expressionlessly, then suddenly spoke.
"Tang Shenyan is dead."
As she said it, her eyes fixed intently on the youth’s face.
She wanted to hear what he would say, to find a grain of truth in the nuances of his expression, but she found nothing.
That brutal fight seemed to have drained all his strength, or perhaps he had already expected this outcome. From beginning to end, he remained silent.
She was familiar with that silence.
In the past, whenever she tried to touch upon his secrets, he would respond with this same silence. And at that time, she had adopted a live-and-let-live attitude, never wanting to force him to admit or confess anything.
But today was different.
For Old Tang, and for herself, she had to take this step.
"Where did you go before? What exactly were you doing? And why did those people want to kill you?"
She asked three questions in one breath, each one striking at his vitals, and each one he could not answer.
He could only remain silent, praying she would be like before—just momentarily angry. He submitted to her cleaning his wounds and pulling at his skin, never complaining, thinking that once she had vented her frustration, he wouldn't have to face any of it.
Qin Jiuye sensed his thoughts and increased the pressure of her hand. But the youth was clearly accustomed to enduring; this bit of physical pain was nothing to him, and she couldn't bring herself to be any harsher.
The smoke cleared, and a few sparks began to drift from the woodpile in the corner. Emotions hung precariously in the air, ready to explode at the slightest touch.
Qin Jiuye threw the blood-soaked rag into the bucket, mercilessly tearing away the last layer of pretense between them.
"If you won't speak, then I will." Qin Jiuye’s voice was calm to the point of coldness. Outside, the wind and rain had stopped, but another storm was brewing in the depths of her eyes. "You went to Qionghu Island and infiltrated the Blade-Sharpening Ceremony. You failed to strike a deal with those damn martial artists, and instead, they saw through your identity. That’s why they chased you down, nearly taking your life..."
"No! It wasn't like that! The reason I went back was because..."
Because he wanted to kill Zhu Fuxue? Why did he want to kill her? Why was he caught up in this series of troubles? How could he explain those two people by the lake? How could he confess the dark past he shared with them?
His usually silver tongue turned clumsy, and his voice cut off abruptly.
The woman watched him quietly, then spoke the terrifying answer he could not bring himself to say.
"Because they are from the World's Number One Villa, and you are also from the World's Number One Villa."
The youth’s body instantly turned as rigid as stone.
Her light words were more terrifying to him than the blade cutting his flesh or the steel scraping his bone. Li Kuquan’s hand had long since left his spine, yet he felt as if an evil ghost had suddenly seized his throat, leaving him unable to move.
From initial shock and terror to trembling despair, and then back to silence. It was as if his soul had been sucked out in an instant, leaving him staring blankly ahead.
She knew.
She knew everything.
She knew his true origins, his past, and his wretched other side.
But why... why did she still appear before him if she knew everything? He couldn't understand. After the shock and numbness, countless thoughts and unfamiliar emotions began to surge in his chest, yet his face remained a mask of deathly stillness.
Qin Jiuye looked at his face for a long time before speaking again.
"I am asking you now. If you don't want to answer, you don't have to. But if you do speak, you must not lie to me."
He didn't speak, only nodded.
"Are you someone who escaped from the World's Number One Villa?"
Another unbearable, deathly silence filled the damp, sweltering hut. After an unknown amount of time, the youth finally opened his mouth and squeezed out a single word.
"Yes."
As he said it, it was as if invisible dust had settled upon him, and the last bit of light faded from his eyes. He was like a clam dropped into hot coals; the shell he had kept so tightly shut opened uncontrollably. As long as she spoke, he would have to pour out all his filthy secrets.
The surroundings fell into a brief quiet.
The woman took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then whispered the question.
"Did you kill Old Tang?"
Her words hung in the air, the echo seemingly slowed.
She wanted to hear him answer this question himself, yet she could hardly bear even a second of waiting. Her heart sank bit by bit in the silence, heavy as a lead weight.
Finally, he answered softly.
"No."
The breath she had been holding in her lungs finally escaped. Qin Jiuye slumped back onto the ground.
The two exhausted people lay there, paralyzed, facing each other in silence for a long time before Li Qiao’s voice sounded again.
He seemed to use every ounce of his strength to speak, his voice carrying a long-suppressed confusion.
"You didn't even know if I killed Tang Shenyan... so why did you come for me?"
Yes, Old Tang had died such a miserable death. What kind of hatred or grudge must exist between people to torture someone like that? Or was there simply a type of person in this world who could inflict the most vicious cruelty upon a total stranger? Simply because they were born that way, devoid of human feeling or understanding, no different from beasts that devoured their own kind?
She hadn't been certain of the answers, yet she had come for him anyway.
Why? Because the fact that she had come for him regardless of the cost was the answer to everything.
Qin Jiuye looked directly at his face, her eyes bloodshot from staying up all night.
"Do you truly not understand?"
Li Qiao shook his head with difficulty. He could almost hear the sound of his rigid body cracking and collapsing from within.
He didn't know, didn't understand, couldn't comprehend.
No matter how perfect the disguise, he knew the self beneath the mask was broken. He didn't have the "human heart" she spoke of. His brokenness always caused him to anger her on this subject. But he truly didn't understand. How could a person without a heart understand any of this? How could he feel as if a great hole had been carved into his chest? How could he... how could he...
Suddenly, something encircled his hunched frame, and his chaotic thoughts came to a halt.
She was hugging him.
This was the first time she had held him, yet he felt as if he had fantasized about this feeling for a long, long time. So long that even a small taste of it made him drown in it.
The coldness that followed the burning sensation suddenly faded. He felt as if he had briefly escaped that blood-soaked world of martial arts and returned to that small side room in Guoran Residence. Rain dripped from the roof tiles, the wood he had just chopped burned quietly in the medicine stove next door, and the clouds after the rain had quietly dispersed. The moonlight outside was perfect, and he lay on that simple wooden bed, letting the pure moonlight surround him.
He blinked, and that moonlight spilled from his eyes, wetting her clothes.
"What I promised you before... shall I teach you today?"
The woman’s voice sounded, soft as a whisper in a dream.
He was stunned and unable to move, letting her gently cup his blood-stained face.
The tear tracks on the youth’s face were not yet dry, and his eyes were veiled as if by a mist. His gaze was somewhat vacant, clearly not yet recovered from that embrace.
In the next moment, his light brown pupils reflected the woman’s silhouette as she drew closer. Every inch, every detail carried an unshakeable, sacred light, like a waterbird breaking the surface to dive into the lake of his heart.
His body was hers to command, his soul hers to occupy. Something landed on his lips, light as a feather, yet it instantly stirred up whirlpools and storms in that lake.
"Do you understand now?"
Li Qiao’s fingers tightened.
Only then did he realize his hands had unconsciously wrapped tightly around her.
Her heart beat powerfully against his chest. Something deep within his own chest slowly woke up, changing from cold and rigid to a ball of warmth, like a fire lit in a frozen wasteland, drawing a lost traveler closer.
So this was what a human heart was like.
Simple and hot, ordinary yet resilient, capable of dispelling all cold and gloom.
The woodpile in the corner had begun to burn at some point. The youth’s eyes shone with brilliance, like two gems finally washed clean of dust, hard yet shimmering with light.
He trembled as he responded to her, letting that beating flame in his chest burn brighter and stronger, like a wildfire spreading across the plains.
It turned out his heart had been there all along.
It was just that in the nights when no one lit it, he had never known of its existence.
He was the wood, the kindling, chopped by axes, soaked by mountain rains, forgotten in a dark corner, waiting day after day for rot and death to arrive. The warmest thing he had ever felt in this life was but a small patch of midnight moonlight.
But in the moment she kissed him, that damp, dark past receded like black lake water from the shore.
His heart began to burn, burning only for her.
And only this burning was the true meaning of that heart’s forceful beat.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 修罗鬼差 | Asura reaper | Literally "Asura ghost-messenger," referring to a lethal enforcer or assassin. |
| 开锋大典 | Blade-Sharpening Ceremony | A significant martial arts event or ritual. |
| 樵薪 | Firewood | Also a play on Li Qiao's name (Qiao 樵 means firewood). |
| 果然居 | Guoran Residence | Qin Jiuye's clinic/home. |
| 丁翁村 | Dingweng Village | The village where they lived. |
| 琼壶岛 | Qionghu Island | A location mentioned in his past. |
