Chapter 23.5

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Trying to distract herself from the pain, she spoke half-jokingly to the unconscious man on her back. “This makes it the second time I’ve had to carry you out of the snow.”

The person on her back remained silent, his head resting limply against her shoulder. It seemed he had passed out again.

The ache in her muscles and the sting of her injuries brought a fine sheen of sweat to her forehead. Quietly, almost as if she were speaking to herself, she murmured, “Thank you.”

“Thank you… for saving Changning for me.”

If she lost her younger sister, her last remaining family, Fan Changyu truly wouldn’t know how to continue living in this world.

The wind and snow raged as she trudged forward, carrying Xie Zheng on her back. Each step left a deep imprint in the snow, evidence of her resolve.

Little Changning sat under the same pine tree from earlier, clutching the gyrfalcon in her arms. When she saw her elder sister returning with Xie Zheng on her back, she quickly ran up to meet her. “Elder Sister!”

Fan Changyu, unable to free her hands to hug her sister, felt a bead of sweat trail down from her temple, stinging the cuts on her face. She looked Changning up and down and asked, “Are you hurt, Ningniang?”

Changning shook her head, but when she noticed Xie Zheng unconscious on her sister’s back, her eyes reddened, and she choked out, “Brother-in-law was protecting me… that’s why he’s hurt…”

Fan Changyu’s hand still bore the sticky, almost scalding residue of his blood from when he had guided her blade. The warmth lingered like a painful burn. A dull ache stirred in her chest, a mixture of guilt and sorrow.

“Don’t cry,” she said gently, her tone calm and steady as always. “We’ll take him back and get him to a doctor.”

Fan Changyu always seemed unshakable—calm and composed, no matter the situation.

For Changning, just hearing her sister speak this way brought an instant sense of reassurance. Her fears melted away, and she nodded, clinging tightly to the falcon as she followed her sister.

When their parents had passed, Changning had cried so hard that she made herself ill, struggling to breathe. It was her elder sister who sat by her bedside, holding her tightly and whispering, “Don’t be afraid. You still have me.”

That same unwavering presence now steadied her once more.

Little Changning watched her elder sister’s hunched back, burdened by the weight of it all. She clumsily wiped her eyes with her sleeve, clutching the gyrfalcon tightly in her arms as she trudged through the snow, her steps uneven but determined to follow Fan Changyu.

“This is the second time I’ve had to carry you out of the snow,” Changyu muttered under her breath.

“Thank you,” came a weak reply.

Xie Zheng, half-conscious, vaguely heard someone speaking to him. The voice was familiar—achingly so—but he couldn’t quite place it.

His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and his thoughts swirled into an unrecognizable haze. He could no longer piece them together. It felt like he was being pulled deeper into an endless darkness, the bone-chilling cold seeping into his very core.

Fighting against the pull was nearly impossible. Giving in felt so much easier, almost freeing.

“Zheng’er.”

Another voice called out to him.

He hadn’t thought of her in years, couldn’t even recall her face clearly anymore. Yet in his dreams, he always knew it was her.

Why was she here now? What did she want?

Hadn’t she abandoned him?

Xie Zheng didn’t want to answer, but his gaze was drawn forward against his will. The woman stood in the rear garden of the marquis’ estate, a gentle smile on her face as she held the hand of a small child. Together, they watched a gallant man practicing martial arts in the courtyard.

“Zheng’er’s father is a true hero,” she said with pride. “One day, you’ll grow up to be just like him.”

Xie Zheng watched as the woman smiled warmly at him, and only then did he realize—he had become that child.

He still said nothing, his gaze fixed on the woman’s face. In this dream, it was perfectly clear, but upon waking, it would blur again into a hazy outline. He missed her. But she had left far too soon—so soon that even the memory of her features had faded from his mind.

The scene shifted. The man practicing martial arts in the courtyard vanished, replaced by a coffin, returned from the battlefields of Jinzhou.

The woman, now dressed in mourning white, threw herself over the coffin, her cries piercing and heartrending. Not even the room full of maids and attendants could hold her back.

The image changed again. She was now seated before a bronze mirror, dressed in fresh clothes. She carefully traced her eyebrows, their soft, arching lines resembling distant hills. Her face was strikingly beautiful, yet anyone could see the sadness behind her furrowed brows.

“He broke his promise,” she murmured softly, her voice tinged with frustration. “He said he’d come back and draw my brows for me.”

She sounded like a young woman annoyed at her lover for skipping an arranged meeting—a small grievance, yet one that lingered in her heart. Then, as if sensing his presence, she turned and smiled at him, gesturing for him to come closer. Xie Zheng didn’t move. Instead, a young boy, no older than four, his hair tied with a small golden crown, ran past him toward her.

She handed the boy a plate of osmanthus cakes, her voice as gentle as ever. “Zheng’er, do the osmanthus cakes taste good?”

At last, he spoke, his voice sharp with resentment: “No, they don’t.”

The woman didn’t seem to hear his words. Instead, she picked up the young boy and settled him on her lap. Her voice, still gentle, sounded as if it were coming from somewhere far away.

“Zheng’er, one day you’ll grow up to be a hero like your father—a man who stands tall and unyielding.”

She smiled, stroking the child’s head. “Be good. Go eat your osmanthus cakes outside.”

Then she turned back to her mirror, finished her makeup, and dressed in her finest clothes. Her face was bare except for her elegant brows. With a white silk ribbon, she tied a noose and hung herself from the beam.

Her general had broken his promise. He hadn’t come back to draw her brows. So, she went to find him.

The door burst open as the maids and servants rushed in, their cries echoing through the room. The child stood frozen at the doorway, staring at the scene before him. All he could see was the hem of her vibrant gown, swaying midair.

Xie Zheng jolted awake, his body drenched in cold sweat.

The bitter, numbing taste of medicine lingered on his tongue. As his vision cleared, he noticed the patched-up canopy above his bed. Standing by his side, silhouetted against the light, was someone holding a bowl.

Turning his head slightly, Xie Zheng saw Fan Changyu staring at him, her expression a mix of shock and confusion. She held the medicine bowl in one hand, but the spoon was nowhere to be seen.

His gaze dropped to the floor, where he spotted the shattered remains of a porcelain spoon scattered across the ground.

Changyu hesitated, then mumbled awkwardly, “Medicine is probably… not very tasty, huh?”