Chapter 105: Dongfang Qingyu

Life was drawing to a close, poised to end with a painfully imperfect, even unbearable period to the sentence of existence. I thought I would never open my eyes again. Thus, the reincarnation carrying memories came to its end.

They say that when one nears death’s door, memories of the journey so far inevitably surface—I found myself unable to resist reflecting. The first fifteen years of my life were near perfect: a loving father, a devoted mother, a little brother. Then, within a single year, I lost everything. I could not say whether I was content or discontent; memories flickered swiftly in my mind like a film reel playing out.

Alas, this life I gained everything only to lose it all again, but without the glory and success of my previous existence.

As death approached, I felt no bitterness; rather, I was grateful to the heavens for the life granted me. The first life brought towering achievements and an honorable return home. This life allowed me to experience the depths of family, friendship, and love. Yet, there remained a lingering dissatisfaction—how maddening it was! But what did it matter? It was too late.

Still, I was unwilling—oh, so unwilling—to die like this. Those who wronged me, the injustices done, could they just be forgiven so easily? How could I accept that? If I could live again with the memory intact, I would never close my eyes so blindly. Yet perhaps it would be better not to carry the memories at all; this life was too heavily shaped by the last, and by the time true happiness arrived, little time was left.

I once thought death was my only escape, but unexpectedly, a force held me back, slowing my fall. I opened my eyes, realizing that my body was no longer plummeting so fast through the air.

A blue figure swiftly arrived beside me, startling me thoroughly.

My horizontal body was caught single-handedly in his embrace.

He was carrying me down.

His cloak and hair billowed out; his meticulous blue robe blended oddly with my tattered, colorless clothes, and our tangled hair seemed so discordant.

Before I could glimpse his face, I fainted magnificently.

That sleep lasted long, very long.

In my dream, I returned to the Cloudy Sky Kingdom. I was young then, often sneaking out of the palace through a secret passage beneath my chamber to a cherry blossom tree.

Two small children sat on a large rock beneath the tree, their feet resting on another stone.

“Why are you here all alone in this wild place? Where are your family?”

“I… I sneaked out to play.”

“Me too.”

“What’s this?”

“Chestnuts, my favorite snack. My mother used to prepare them for me.”

“Not bad.”

“My name’s Li Yexuan. What’s your name, little sister?”

“I… I’m Zi Yun…”

“Zi Yun, just call me Brother Xuan, will you? My siblings aren’t very close to me, and you’re the only one I can talk to like this.”

“Brother Xuan.”

Pain surged in my chest, pulling me from this innocent dream. My eyelids were heavy, unable to open, so I let them close again.

I realized clearly this was no mere fantasy, but a true memory—one before I turned six. Back then, I had a high fever for three days, worrying my parents terribly. When I awoke, I had forgotten that first meeting beneath the cherry tree.

Li Yexuan, it turns out you were the first person I ever met. Our fates intertwined so early. No wonder you sought me out during the palace upheaval, no wonder you looked for Huangfu Zi Yun—you were that boy beneath the tree all along.

I remembered him then, plump and round-faced, so unlike the formidable figure he grew into that I scarcely recognized him. But I cannot blame myself entirely.

Had I recalled sooner, I might have wrestled with whether to tell him—after all, Huangfu Zi Yun was no longer the boy he once was. Everything had changed.

The pain beneath my left breast had not lessened at all. Li Yexuan, your sword struck deeply—how did it not pierce me? Why spare me this breath of life? One day, I will repay you twofold.

I opened my heavy eyes. My clothes had been changed to clean ones. Though some tears in the fabric pressed painfully against my skin, I could not get up. I could only lie still until footsteps approached.

It was the one who saved me, still dressed in blue, a lock of blue hair falling over his forehead like a celestial being. Yet I felt I had seen him somewhere before.

“What, not even six months have passed, and you don’t recognize me?”

He spoke as his hand gently touched my forehead. “The fever’s passed; it seems you’ll be all right.”

“Who are you?”

My eyes brimmed with caution. The tales of Yun Heng and Li Yexuan taught me that while one should be grateful to a savior, trust must never be given blindly—especially to handsome men, who are often the greatest deceivers.

“Yuehua Kingdom, Yingchun Courtyard.”

The man uttered the words elegantly, making my eyes widen in surprise.

“So it’s you.”

“I am Dongfang Qingyu.”

He helped me sit up slowly, cautiously avoiding any pain from my wounds.

“Saving you then was but a small kindness. I never expected it would be such a blessing. Looking at you now, it’s hard to believe you’re the same disheveled figure with a crooked topknot and a torn sleeve from that day,” I said with a wry smile.

“I didn’t expect you to be the famed Huangfu Zi Yun,” he said. Knowing who I was, I was momentarily stunned. If he wished me dead, escape would have been impossible.

“Just an empty reputation. Now that my life almost slipped away, what use is it? Knowing my identity, why did you save me?”

“I happened to pass by and overheard you talking. It seemed you planned to leap from the cliff, so I came down early to see if I could catch you.”

“Looks like heaven hasn’t forsaken me.”

I smiled, gazing through the door crack at the sky beyond the window.

Our chance meeting in misfortune made Dongfang Qingyu and me feel instant camaraderie.

The place I stayed had a courtyard. Dongfang Qingyu often helped me outside to sit, saying the sunlight would aid my recovery. Sometimes, I couldn’t see him around, knowing he, too, had his own matters to attend.

Half a month later, my left hand began to heal, and the wound on my chest had scabbed over.

The doctor Dongfang Qingyu hired came again to check my pulse. Unlike before, he smiled broadly.

“What’s the matter? Is the condition worsening?”

“Sir, no need to worry. Madam’s recovery is progressing well. Congratulations on your heir.”

They treated us as a couple, and I never minded.

An heir? That meant I was pregnant!

My mind reeled. I was carrying Li Yexuan’s child. After he stabbed me and I plunged from the cliff, I was still with child.

My face turned pale as death. I stood there, stunned and lost.

“Madam, what’s wrong? Your complexion is so poor. Though the fetus is unstable, with proper care there should be no problem…”

“My lady seems overjoyed. Thank you, doctor,” Dongfang Qingyu said as he led the doctor away.

He returned and sat beside me once more.

I said nothing, tears streaming unbidden.

Before the upheaval, Li Yexuan had held me, asking me to bear him a child.

“Don’t cry…”

Usually confident, Dongfang Qingyu was now at a loss.

He embraced me; my head buried in his chest, my tears turned into sobs.

No longer silent weeping, but loud crying—earth-shattering, soul-stirring, perhaps frightening even Dongfang Qingyu.

When my sobs lessened, I shyly lifted my head from his chest.

“Sorry for dirtying your clothes.”

Sure enough, Dongfang Qingyu looked down at his pale blue robes, curling his mouth wryly.

“A garment is but a garment. Now that you’ve cried, can you calmly decide whether to keep the child or not?”

“Of course I will keep it. This will be my child alone. It will bear my name, Huangfu, and belong to our family. After the palace upheaval, the true Huangfu clan has been nearly wiped out. This child carries my blood—I cannot part with it.”

“Good. Then rest well. Soon we may have to move again.”

For half a month, Dongfang Qingyu moved me from place to place like a migratory bird, hiding from Li Yexuan’s reach.

“Qingyu, I want to go somewhere. Will you come with me?”

“Sure,” Dongfang Qingyu replied casually, smoothing my covers.

“Why did you agree so easily without asking where?”

“If your child in your womb calls me godfather, I’ll go anywhere.”

“Very well.” A faint ripple stirred in my lonely eyes. Though pain lingered, this child born without a father’s love would have Dongfang Qingyu.

“You trust me so easily, even after being deceived twice?”

Dongfang Qingyu knew much of my story.

“I have no choice. But truly, there’s nothing of value here for you to exploit. If it’s about the legendary treasure of Cloudy Sky Kingdom, you’ll be disappointed—I know nothing at all.”

“Zi Yun, remember this: among the millions in this world, you cannot fully trust anyone at any time, including me.”

Dongfang Qingyu’s tone was grave.

“But now, I have no one but you to trust. If I die, it doesn’t matter—but the child inside me must live.”

My words flashed briefly in Dongfang Qingyu’s eyes.

“Since you saved my life, I will protect you both. But as for that legend…”

“I’m not stingy. If there’s treasure to share, you’ll have your part. Dongfang Qingyu, I’ve always regarded you as a friend. Please don’t measure everything by profit.”

“Deal.”

Indeed, there is no such thing as a free lunch. But laying one’s intentions bare made things simpler—no need for suspicion.

As for the treasure, I truly do not know. Dongfang Qingyu might be disappointed after all.