Chapter 8
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Ji County was only a few miles away from Biling, a short ride away. However, when he turned back to find his horse, he suddenly remembered that with such heavy rain, if he rode back and got soaked, she wouldn’t be pleased to see it.
He held an umbrella and suppressed all his emotions as he climbed into the carriage. Once seated, the emptiness of the carriage struck him.
His right hand instinctively pressed down, the cold and heavy scabbard of the Zhe Ling sword, but it was the only support he had at this moment.
After crossing the mountain, on the winding road, the rain lessened slightly when he got off the carriage.
The sound of rain hitting the oiled paper umbrella was disordered and chaotic. Stepping into the water on the ground, he crushed several lanterns meant for people returning home.
Ripples spread across the surface of the water, and the shadows of flowers stood still. Tonight, the moonlight was hidden, and the sound of wind chimes came from afar.
His fingers gripped the umbrella handle tightly until they were stiff. Step by step, he climbed the stone stairs. This road home, in his lifetime, had never felt as long as it did tonight.
Inside the house, there was warmth. Jiao Jiao, dressed in white, held a mirror as she taught Jing Er to weave bamboo baskets.
Her son passed a piece of bamboo through, and she smiled as she pointed to a spot, then turned to ask him, “If we weave this piece in, what’s the next step?”
Jing Er sighed in frustration as he began to undo the bamboo. “It should be the one on the right!”
She smiled and rubbed her son’s head. “You’re progressing so quickly. Look, it’s only been an hour, and you’ve made so much.
Rest your eyes for a while. Next time, I’ll teach you something more fun. How about weaving bamboo flowers? You can use it to cheer up the girls you like.”
Jing Er pouted, trying to look mature, but his face turned red. “What are you saying, Mother? I want to be like Father, focusing on important matters!”
Jiao Jiao laughed so much she couldn’t stop. Then she heard Jìng’ér ask, “Has Father ever given you bamboo flowers?”
She paused for a moment, then smiled back at him, just about to say something when the door was suddenly slammed open. The wind and rain rushed in, scattering the warmth that had filled the room.
He slowly closed the umbrella and calmly stood at the door, looking at her. Both Jing’er and Jiao Jiao turned to look at him. Their eyes met, but she didn’t speak. She straightened her back, adjusting her hair and clothes.
Then she smiled gently at her son. “Jing’er, be a good boy. Your mother and father have something to discuss. Let the nurse take you to bed.”
The child’s eyes darted between his parents, and Jiao Jiao didn’t look at Tan Ci again. She smiled at Jing’er one more time and had the nurse reluctantly take him away.
Once they were alone, he closed the door, placing the dripping umbrella by the threshold. Unlike usual, he didn’t approach her, and she didn’t rise either. She simply poured herself a cup of tea, which had been brewed earlier and had already cooled down.
She slowly finished the tea, put the cup down, and finally smiled as if relieved, murmuring to herself, “You already know.”
He had rushed back, wanting to see her alone, to hear her speak, to hear her ask him what was wrong, or perhaps say that nothing was wrong.
Even if it was just one word.
But she remained so calm as if she had been preparing for this moment for a long time.
He finally trembled, stepping forward to grasp her shoulders, his eyes bloodshot with anger.
“Why… why?!”
She quietly looked at him, her gaze still full of infatuation and attachment, yet gradually replaced by sorrow.
Why, she also wanted to ask.
Countless times, in the dead of night, when she carried the weight of pain, fear, and resentment, she wanted to ask, just like Tan Ci, gripping his arm—
“Why did you marry Yang Shi?”
“By the waterside of Jiang Cheng, didn’t you say you liked me?”
“Why, if you clearly like me, can you marry someone else?”
“In your heart, is it all the same? Doesn’t it make any difference between a woman and a woman?”
“Whoever stays by your side longer becomes your wife. You can share your warmth and love with whoever is with you.”
“Without Yang Shi, could there still be me, Yi Jiao Jiao? Without me, would there be anyone else who could bear your children and live this life with you?”
“Is that so, Tan Ci?”
Why had she never trusted him, never relied on him? Perhaps it was because so many disappointments had brought her to this point, and now, she didn’t even have the strength to ask or say anything.
“Why didn’t you defend me in front of Qin Chu? Why didn’t you tell everyone that the person you love the most is me and not Yang Shi?”
Jiao Jiao loved him, loved him so much that she was willing to defy fate, willing to kill innocents and bear the guilt, just to force this union.
The years of marriage were, in the end, a dream she had carefully woven. She knew how rare this dream was, and how easily it could shatter. So many things she kept in her heart, and many actions she was willing to take on her own.
As long as she was by his side, she could endure.
After all, only the Yi Jiao Jiao was worthy of Tan Ci.
Now, all her good dreams had been shattered, yet she still looked the same as when they first met. She lightly curved her lips, gazing directly into his eyes, and laid bare the secret she had guarded for years.
“It was me, I killed Yang Shi.”
The Zhe Ling sword at Tan Ci’s waist was immediately unsheathed, the tip of the sword pressing against her porcelain-like neck.
The paper umbrella, quietly standing by the door, had gathered a pool of rainwater. A gust of wind passed by, and the chime outside tinkled, making her hair sway for a moment.
Yi Jiao Jiao smiled as if she didn’t see the sharp blade at her chest. She stood up, and Tan Ci’s sword shifted upwards slightly with her movement.
Her gaze was gentle yet cruel as she looked at Tan Ci, saying, “As for why… I also want to ask myself why. Why, at this moment, I still just want to hear you,”
Her tears were about to fall, yet she still smiled at him, her voice husky. “In your heart, do you have me, or do you have her?”
Tan Ci’s eyes reddened, and his hand holding the sword trembled more, his thin lips pressed into a tight line as if enduring extreme pain.
He couldn’t say it.
Yi Jiao Jiao looked at his furrowed brow, her tears falling in a cascade. In the blink of an eye, she gripped the Zhe Ling sword and leaned forward to meet the tip of the blade. With all her strength, she finally forced out the question, “Say it! Is it me or her—?!”
He wanted to retract his hand, but it was too late.
The sword tip pierced through her chest. He seemed to feel her pain, and tears suddenly fell from his eyes. In a frantic rush, he tried to hold her, calling her name in desperation. “Jiao Jiao—”
Blood flowed slowly from the corners of her lips and her chest, mixing with the rainwater dripping from the oiled paper umbrella. The boundary between them became indistinguishable.
He held her, screaming madly towards the door. “Call a doctor! Quickly, call a doctor!”
Tears rolled down his face and fell onto her hand. Her lips grew paler, and she gently tugged at his sleeve. Tan Ci trembled as he looked down at her, wanting to say something, but he saw her lips move.
He leaned down, hearing her final breath barely escape as she whispered, “In this life, I owe you and her… don’t worry, at the Naihe Bridge, I won’t wait for you… In the next life, if it still hurts like this, don’t meet me.”
He desperately shook his head, but she refused to look at him again.
She had always been this resolute.
Love and hate, meeting and parting, all ended with such determination.
On the thirteenth day of the fourth month in the eleventh year of Yí Jiao Jiao, the white banner rose on a rainy night at the Biling Mountain Manor, and the entire manor mourned.
