Chapter 42: Marriage

At midday, the “Origin of Food” restaurant was bustling with noise. The owner and waiters, drenched in sweat, hurried about. A woman dressed in black surveyed her surroundings with an expressionless face before heading straight up to the second floor. A waiter, rushing down from upstairs and focused only on the dishes in his hands, collided with her.

Startled, the waiter quickly removed the dry towel hanging around his neck and wiped the stains from the woman’s black clothes, apologizing repeatedly, “Sorry, miss...” Her face remained unperturbed, showing not the slightest ripple of emotion. She took the towel from his hand and wiped herself casually, saying in a calm voice, “It’s alright,” then placed the towel back on his shoulder.

The waiter glanced at her black-clad figure ascending the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief. Thankfully, she was understanding... He shook his head and smiled, but suddenly noticed a faint and peculiar fragrance. Frowning, he raised his arm and sniffed around, but could only catch the scent of greasy food. He pursed his lips and returned to his work.

Qiang Yanxi found a seat by the window. The waiter, having just finished a circuit of the floor, hurried over to wipe her table and set down a pot of tea. “Miss, what would you like?” Yanxi gazed out the window, her tone indifferent, “Bring me a portion of your signature dishes.” The waiter’s eyes brightened; he poured her a cup of tea and called out loudly, “Coming right up!” before rushing off again.

The tea was scalding hot, pale white mist rising and swirling, gradually enveloping a pair of eyes as black as ink and bright as the stars. Yanxi calmly lifted her cup, gently blew away the drifting steam, and began to sip slowly.

At that moment, suppressed conversation drifted from the next table. Yanxi paid it no mind, but when the words “Gen Sha Sect” reached her ears, her heart tightened. Gen Sha Sect... Her fine, slanting brows knit together. She recalled no prior contact with this sect, yet the name stirred something deep within her, as if she were intimately familiar with it... She unconsciously held her breath to listen more closely.

“Sigh, I heard many people from various sects have died suddenly lately...”

“Indeed, just last night two from the Carefree Sect died, and the Tianshan Sect as well!”

“I heard the killer is a Gu master...”

“A Gu master! Could it be the Gen Sha Sect?!”

“Shh, keep your voice down, it’s likely their doing...”

“The Gen Sha Sect disappeared from the martial world for years, how are they back again?”

“Who knows. Things won’t be peaceful from now on...”

Gu masters... Gen Sha Sect... Her slender white fingers gripped the teacup tightly. Suddenly, with a soft “crack,” the cup broke. The two conversing turned in alarm, glanced at her, and fell silent.

Shards sliced her delicate palm, bright red blood mingling with pale yellow tea and dripping steadily. Yanxi stared at her bleeding hand with a complicated expression, feeling she had lost an important memory. Her mind was intact, yet it seemed she had forgotten someone—forgotten everything about that person.

A flicker of red danced in her mind: a graceful figure, walking like a lotus, face obscured. Yanxi closed her eyes and shook her head firmly, but the red silhouette overlapped with a woman from that night. Her hands clenched unconsciously; she suddenly opened her eyes.

Could it be her whom I’ve forgotten?

“Miss, your dishes are—oh! Your hand!”

Yanxi was jolted from her reverie. In that blurred moment, the red shadow pierced her vision. She stood abruptly and leapt out the open window, leaving the waiter’s cries—“Miss, you haven’t paid!”—behind.

She chased after the red shadow, but it vanished as if into thin air. The black-clad woman looked coldly around, finding no trace of red, save for the blood still dripping from her right hand.

Her lips pressed tightly together, Yanxi took a deep breath. As she turned to leave, a figure slowly emerged from the corner where she’d stood—a woman in a dark red brocaded dress, black hair falling to her waist, an exquisite bun adorned with a gold and jeweled cloud hairpin. She stared without blinking in Yanxi’s direction, only withdrawing her gaze after a long moment.

She looked at the small patch of dark blood on the ground, her thick lashes trembling and covering her eyes, hiding all emotion. After a while, she lifted her head and smiled slowly toward where Yanxi had gone.

Yet that dazzling, radiant smile lasted only a moment. The woman sighed softly, turned around, and behind her stood the black-clad woman, arms crossed, gazing at her coldly.

It is indeed her! Yanxi looked at the woman before her. She had only met her once, yet it felt as if they’d known each other for ages. Lifting her chin, Yanxi asked in a deep voice, “Who are you, really?” The woman in red approached with lotus steps, laughing softly, “You truly are forgetful. Let me tell you again—I am Ran Zhu, your wife.”

Yanxi’s face remained unchanged, but her arms tightened. She stared at the gold hairpin atop the woman’s head, finding it glaringly bright. “Did we... did we know each other before?” Ran Zhu covered her lips and laughed, “If we didn’t know each other, how could we have married?”

That vivid red flashed sharply in Yanxi’s mind, making her sway in confusion. “Married?” She frowned and looked at Ran Zhu. “We were married?” Ran Zhu pursed her lips and nodded, “We went through the ceremony, were wed, and moreover...” She leaned mischievously close to Yanxi’s ear and whispered, “Moreover, we consummated our marriage.”

Yanxi’s brows furrowed. None of these scenes appeared in her memory. She didn’t recall the ceremony, the wedding, nor the consummation. Yet she remembered that red: the crimson curtains and quilt, the pair of gold-threaded mandarin duck pillows, even the scent on Ran Zhu—a delicate floral fragrance mingled with bitter medicine, strangely pleasant.

“I don’t remember what you say, but I remember your scent.” Yanxi met those pale brown, almond-shaped eyes and spoke calmly. Ran Zhu paused, then her lips curled into the brightest smile Yanxi had ever seen from her. Yanxi watched her smile and couldn’t help but lift the corner of her own lips.

She remembered this smile—so beautiful, without a hint of darkness or malice. She remembered.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll remember me. You’ll remember everything from before.” Yanxi heard the woman’s gentle voice whisper by her ear, followed by a pair of soft lips pressing to her own.

That night, a gentle rain fell from the sky.

Beigong Juechen, clad in spotless white nightclothes, walked slowly into the inner chamber. Several small candles flickered within, incense wafting pale mist through the air. A black-clad woman leaned by the window, arms folded, and spoke in a low voice as he entered, “Shall we marry?”

Beigong Juechen’s brows twitched.

The fine rain continued throughout the night, falling from the trees to form small puddles in the mud. The fragrance of dewy grass seeped into the air, refreshing the senses.

Slender pale fingers plucked the strings of a zither, producing a series of clear, crisp notes. The bright red lips curved into a perfect smile. A youth in a yellow robe embroidered with clouds settled behind the instrument, his long fingers dancing over the strings. Melodious tones flowed from his hands.

Ever since the night he learned Beigong Juechen could play the guqin, Beigong Qiyi ordered a fine zither to be found. He stopped playing, his ink-black eyes softened with tenderness.

All he wanted was—music in harmony.

“My lord...” Ximo hurriedly entered, Beigong Qiyi withdrew his gaze from the zither and smiled, “Why the rush, what’s happened?” Ximo panted, “My lord, I heard the master is getting married.”

“Twang—” His hand clenched the strings, snapping them.

The delicate youth was startled, eyes widening. “My—my lord?” Beigong Qiyi blinked, his previously stiff smile relaxing. He pursed his lips, “Getting married? When?” Ximo glanced at Beigong Qiyi, relieved to see his calm demeanor. “I don’t know. I heard it from Sister Fuling, who serves the master, when I went for breakfast this morning.”

Beigong Qiyi nodded with a smile, as if the earlier shock had never occurred. He glanced at the snapped string, shaking his head with regret. “A pity for such a fine zither.” Ximo leaned in to look, pouting, “Why not just have it restrung, my lord?”

But Beigong Qiyi only smiled faintly, shaking his head, “A replaced string can never be the original one. This zither will never be what it once was.” The youthful attendant nodded without understanding, then his eyes widened, whispering mysteriously, “Don’t you want to know who the master is marrying?”

Beigong Qiyi laughed and tapped his forehead, “Why should I care?” Ximo rubbed his head and pouted, “But that’s going to be your sister-in-law. Aren’t you curious at all?” Leisurely removing the broken string, Beigong Qiyi lifted an eyebrow and spoke quietly, “Whoever it is, it makes no difference to me.”

Because no matter who, this marriage is doomed never to happen! The snapped string in his hand crumbled to powder, scattering across the dark rosewood table. The youth lowered his eyes, his narrow phoenix eyes slowly reddening.

The delicate youth by his side watched quietly, a face meant for innocence revealing a subtle, meaningful smile.

Author’s note: Volume One complete.
Volume Two... I am exhausted, and have no idea how to continue.