Chapter Sixty-Three: Xuan’s Story

This was a morning in late spring, with a gentle drizzle falling from the sky. The rain brushed softly against his cheeks, yet all he felt was a bone-deep chill.

The young man had lost all purpose in life. He sat aimlessly on a rock by the roadside, his gaze vacant and forlorn, unable to focus on anything.

He sat there in silence, staring blankly at the ground, not even noticing the sound of approaching footsteps, loud and clear, drawing closer.

A flash of vivid color swept past his eyes, then doubled back. Above him, a crisp, lively voice rang out.

Startled by the voice, he instinctively looked up to find its source. There, a girl with a warm, radiant smile sat atop a blue horse. Rain fell gently upon her and her mount, and the lush green meadow behind them framed the scene like an exquisite watercolor, captivating him completely.

But what mesmerized him even more was her smile—gentle and bright, as if it could sweep away all the misfortunes of the world.

The girl spoke but one sentence: “Young man, would you like to enlist?”

He followed her without hesitation, and that step led to two years by her side.

He could not stop wondering how such a beautiful and clever woman could exist. Every gesture, every word, seemed to inspire those around her. Her laughter was like that of a lark, and when she went to battle, she showed no hesitation. Fighting side by side with her, he felt both fulfilled and lost, unable to voice his love.

And he sensed that many others adored her, the greatest threat coming from the palace at the center of the capital. He felt uneasy, as though about to lose something precious.

The girl’s blue warhorse was soon replaced by a red one—a gift, it was said, from a neighboring nation. When she accepted the reward, the gaze of the man atop the high platform made the young man feel as if needles were piercing his back.

Sadly, his unease quickly became harsh reality. The girl was wounded—seriously. That man even came to the battlefield to visit her. After he entered the tent, they conversed for a long time.

When he departed, the girl’s face was radiant, as if healed by some miracle. The young man’s heart sank to its lowest depths.

From then on, he watched her every day. She changed—more restless, more lively, her moods unpredictable. Sometimes she overflowed with joy, sometimes she sank into melancholy. He knew her heart now belonged to that man.

Whether loving him would bring her joy or sorrow, the young man could not say. He only knew that standing beside the one he loved, watching her fall for another, was a torment beyond words.

The day she would leave him was not far off.

On the night he bade her farewell, her face was pale and her breath weak. He knew she had been ill for some time, resting in her estate, but he hadn’t expected that she would still be unwell when he left.

Yet, when she hesitantly handed him a bundle and tearfully begged him to take it to the manor, he finally understood the nature of her illness.

Inside the bundle was a baby.

She was cruel indeed—not only had she shattered his heart, but she had thrust upon him a burden he dared not refuse.

Yet he said not a word of protest.

He did not, as she suggested, give the child away. Instead, he found a quiet village and raised the child dutifully. Over time, his wounds slowly healed. He hoped to find a good mother for the child, to live out his days in ordinary peace, never again to think of the bold and dazzling girl, never again to see her.

When Xuan finished speaking, the echo lingered in the narrow room, buzzing in the air. For a moment, silence. Looking up, he saw that Kai Ming’s face was streaming with tears, and she kept wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“You stupid thing, how can there be someone as foolish as you in this world!” She was crying and scolding at once, gripping his hand tightly. “Why did you come here again? Haven’t you been used enough? Raising her child for her…”

She paused, lowering her voice: “Xiao Wan and Spoon—which one is Dayin’s child?”

Xuan smiled and shook his head. “That’s a secret, not something I can reveal.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve already spilled such an important secret; why hesitate over this?”

Xuan gave a bitter smile. “It really isn’t something I can say. The child was part of her plan, and I cannot betray that.”

“So the child is just another move in her game?” Kai Ming glared at him, sneering coldly. “That woman is truly formidable.”

“Don’t speak of her like that,” Xuan said hesitantly. “She has her own burdens.”

Kai Ming suddenly stood up, pointing to herself. “Look closely—I am your wife! If you protect other women, I’ll be angry!”

Xuan looked at her with a smile. “Why are you angry?”

She was flustered, not used to Xuan’s sly, sparkling gaze fixed on her.

She seemed to think of something, cutting him off loudly, “You went to so much trouble raising her child—why didn’t you find yourself a proper wife?”

Xuan’s smile deepened. “You’re not proper?”

“I am!” She pointed to herself, shaking her head. “Of course I’m wonderful, but this Yasha body, it’s not right. Do you understand what I mean?” She laughed inwardly, realizing she didn’t understand herself, and how could Xuan?

“I understand,” he nodded with a smile.

Kai Ming’s eyes widened. “You’re joking!”

“I truly understand.” He gazed at her, his eyes soft. “That monk’s words were true. You are exactly the wife I want, even though there was a period of transition, a change in temperament, but you’ve finally returned…”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, puzzled. Monk? What monk?

Xuan smiled, took her hand, and quietly looked at her astonished face: “Don’t you feel your body is different? Is there a blank in your memory? That’s normal. And I know you are gradually adapting to this body, accepting all that comes with it…”

Kai Ming suddenly withdrew her hand, as if burned, her face pale. Xuan knew. He knew everything about this body, even that she was not its original owner. He spoke so calmly, as if discussing vegetables.

He knew she was not his original wife, yet acted as if nothing was amiss, living with her, sharing a bed! What a terrifying man!

Seeing her increasingly frightened expression, avoiding him as if he were a ghost, Xuan hurried to comfort her, “Kai Ming, don’t be nervous! This body was prepared for you!”

His words struck her like thunder, leaving her utterly stunned and chilled to the bone. What was Xuan saying? This body was meant for her? Meant to draw her soul here?

Her lips trembled; she could not accept such an absurd explanation.

“You… you bastard!” Her fury surged like a tidal wave. Tearing her away from her beloved just to bring her to this ghostly place! Five palaces, husband, all meaningless!

She grabbed whatever was at hand, hurling it at Xuan in a frenzy, screaming, “Bastard! You bastard! What have you done? Let me go home, I want to go home!”

Xuan dodged the flying objects, calling anxiously, “Kai Ming, calm down! We’ll find a way!”

She paid no heed, flinging things and shouting wildly.

The commotion drew the guards; the door opened and a row of people stood neatly at the threshold.

“What’s happening?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Xuan replied quickly as a chair flew out the door, making everyone gasp.

“Kai Ming, stop this! Let’s talk calmly!” Xuan, at his wit’s end, grabbed her flailing arms from behind, holding her tightly against his chest.

She still screamed like a madwoman. A cold gaze fell upon them; Xuan looked up and saw two figures at the door—Chang Geng and Dogzi. Dogzi’s face was full of surprise, while that icy glare came from Chang Geng.

He couldn’t read Chang Geng’s expression—indifference, hostility, even an unnamed jealousy, or perhaps something else, complex and fleeting.

Xuan kept his eyes on Chang Geng, yet continued to comfort her, “We’ll go home, we’ll go home…”

His eyes burned with fatigue, lost in a dark dream from which he could not awaken. His body kept falling, as if plunging into an abyss, but suddenly tightened—no abyss, but a carefully woven net. Xuan’s face emerged from the darkness, twisted in a grim smile: “Kai Ming, I’ve caught you.”

She panicked, clutching at the confining net. Instead of loosening, it tightened, cutting into her skin and leaving bloody welts. Drops of blood slid down. Terrified, she screamed, barely hearing someone echo her cries, shouting, “Kai Ming! Kai Ming!”

She woke with a start, breaking free from the nightmare. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her hard, anxious eyes wide with concern.

“Are you alright, Kai Ming?” Looking closely, the brown-skinned youth with bushy eyebrows was Chang Geng.

“Chang Geng?” She couldn’t comprehend it—why was Chang Geng before her, when she’d just seen Xuan?

“What kind of dream did you have, shouting so loud?” he asked, releasing her shoulders hesitantly.

“A dream?” she murmured, glancing around. She was still in her room, lying properly in her own bed.

She recalled Xuan explaining his history with Dayin, then letting slip he knew about the Yasha woman’s body, then she went mad, and after that, she remembered nothing.

Xuan knew she came from somewhere else? A monk told him? This body was prepared for her soul? What was going on? The more she thought, the more confused she became.

A monk? A shiver ran through her. Impossible things had unfolded before her eyes. In her hazy memory, she’d gone for coffee with her friend, then to a temple for a fortune, then fainted… As if it were another lifetime, both vague and clear.

Seeing her pale face, Chang Geng asked urgently, “What’s wrong? Don’t overthink it—tell me if anything’s wrong.”

“What’s the use of telling you?” she muttered, scanning the room. “Where’s Xuan? I have something to ask him!”

Chang Geng hesitated. “Xuan stayed by your bedside constantly. The general just called him away. I heard you shouting and came in.”

Stifling her agitation and urge to uncover the truth, she noted the light in the room. “Is it late?”

Chang Geng glanced at the food on the table. “Dinner time has passed. If you’re hungry, I can have it reheated.”

“No need.” She had no appetite. She shifted her legs, preparing to get out of bed.

“Kai Ming, what happened?” Chang Geng couldn’t contain his curiosity. “Why do you change like this every time you see Xuan? And why do you call him by his name so directly?”

She paused. She had never considered the matter of address before. Yes, she should call him husband, shouldn’t she? Always calling him ‘Xuan’—to outsiders, it seemed improper.

“I suppose you and your husband don’t get along very well. Otherwise, why would you join the army and end up in my suicide squad?” Chang Geng studied her face, then added, “If you need anything, just ask. I’ll help with anything I can.”

To be continued.