Chapter 85: Secret of Haoyang Valley

Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios

After some thought, Zhan Beiye continued, “Forget it, Zhaoxu isn’t going to be easy. Too bad it’s not the time for me to take advantage of his difficulties.”

“Zhaoxu?” Meng Fuyao opened her eyes.

“Why?” Zhan Beiye looked at her strangely.

“You’re a big man. Why so affectionate in addressing him?” Meng Fuyao asked. “Brokeback?”

“What’s that?” Zhan Beiye frowned. “You attempted suicide once and are acting all weird now. I don’t understand you. What’s wrong with calling him by his honorific title? Don’t tell me you don’t know what Zhaoxu means?”

“Ah?” she uttered after some time.

“Ah, what?” Zhan Beiye laughed, reaching his hand toward her forehead to check for a fever but was slapped away.

Meng Fuyao sat up muddleheadedly, grabbing her knees and biting her lips.

‘So that’s an honorific title.’

She long had suspicions about his identity and had questioned Yun Hen, who then gave answers that dispelled her doubts. After all, it was too bold for a prince to enter another nation’s territory to cause trouble, but she had started feeling suspicious upon their “chance encounter” in Wuji’s temporary imperial residence.

She did not believe that an advisor could travel about the residence so carefreely. Based on her understanding of history, ancient societal rules were stringent and not easily overstepped.

The real confirmation came when Xiao Dao appeared.

During the internal battle between the northern and southern Rongs, the ten-year-old Zhangsun Wuji had traveled deep into the grassland. After saying his piece, the Rongs had bowed and become brothers. This was a story Yao Xun had shared with her, and she remembered it clearly.

And Xiao Dao wanted to kill the man who had reunited the Rongs and banished her father. If at this point she still had no idea about his identity, she wouldn’t be called Meng Fuyao but Meng Pighead.

She had, somewhat unhappily, guessed that Yuan Zhaoxu wasn’t being honest. Fortunately, she wasn’t one to be overly wishy-washy. Biting on her blanket, she recalled the time when they first met. It wasn’t convenient for Zhangsun Wuji to reveal his identity then. Plus, didn’t she keep a lot of things from him too?

Was there a need to be so calculative? Since she was ready to leave any time she really had no rights to make any demands.

After the dance, before his departure, he had finally come clean about his identity, and Meng Fuyao was fine with that.

Despite her initial suspicions, receiving Zhan Beiye’s confirmation still shocked her a little. She recalled something and suddenly asked, “What’s his mother’s family name?”

“Queen Yuan,” he answered unhesitatingly. “Pretty amazing woman. Zhangsun Wuji definitely resembles her in terms of character.”

He followed his mother’s family name and was called Zhaoxu as an honorific title. After some thought Meng Fuyao couldn’t help but smile. Aye, Zhangsun Wuji did not keep it from her. It was such an obvious alias, and it was no different from telling her exactly who he was. It was her, distracted and ignorant about the affairs of the Five Region Continents, who hadn’t figured it out for such a long time.

Seeing that Meng Fuyao was somewhat absent-minded, Zhan Beiye appeared rather uncomfortable. He decided to divert the topic by reaching toward Meng Fuyao’s coat. “Why are you wrapping yourself up for. Remove it. I’ll treat your injuries.”

Meng Fuyao allowed him to pull his coat up as she got to her feet and pushed him away. “I’m going to take a shower. You better stay far away and not peep.”

“Shower?” Zhan Beiye sprung up. “It’s winter, and you’re injured. Shower? Shower!”

He was absolutely triggered, but Meng Fuyao couldn’t care less. She walked to a small stream while dragging his overcoat on the ground. Without a word, she jumped into the shallow water.

“Aish, aren’t you afraid of drowning?” Zhan Beiye rushed over. Meng Fuyao waved an arm and his overcoat flew out of the water and slammed onto his body. By the time he was done placing it down, Meng Fuyao had already stripped and entered the deeper portion of the stream.

She was good in water, almost like a fish, and was able to hold her breath underwater for a long time.

The moon rose gradually, and the water started to sparkle under its light. The world beneath the water remained quiet as some water plants drifted silently, along with little silver fish that tickled her legs slightly.

It was a tranquil, undisturbed world. A world she wanted to be in at this moment.

She stayed in the water, her hair scattering and floating like the plants beneath. The water brushed against her wounds, carrying along with it some clotted blood. Blood dispersed, dying the water around her red.

The pain she had long stopped feeling was awakened like a huge wave, causing her to convulse and eventually shrink into a ball.

It was a self-defense position, just like how fetuses were in their mother’s womb. She was using the most primitive method to protect her body and her heart. Meng Fuyao curled up tightly and placed her hands over her chest.

It was the greatest pain she had ever experienced. It surpassed every injury and ache she had ever felt up to this point.

She wasn’t going to let herself remember it, however. Moving forward with the memory of pain meant that every step she took in future would carry the memory of fresh blood and scars, no different from walking on the blade of a sword – pain and cowering in every step, eventually straying from the pencil-straight path.

Covering her chest area, Meng Fuyao raised her head up, and amid the clear water, she assumed a weeping posture.

‘Cry, then.’ She allowed herself to be weak for once, to let the humiliation, the rejection and all other grievances and suffering transform into tears and join the billions of water drops in this stream.

That night, there was only the stream in Haoyang Valley to record and remember her tears. Meng Fuyao, on the other hand, would remember the fury of the misery she was feeling all over her body. She would remember the higher order that had bestowed her with a pain like this.

The moonlight shone through the clear water, illuminating the long-haired youth floating amid it. She resembled a goddess, her pale skin and tightly shut eyes enhancing the lushness of her lashes.

The tears she wanted no one to see, flowed into the jade-clear water.

The moon was silent; her tears were silent.

A man’s voice erupted, “Are you still alive, Meng Fuyao?”

Zhan Beiye, who was getting anxious, laid by the stream and shouted, “Are you dead from holding your breath yet? If yes, give me a shout!”

Meng Fuyao almost choked. ‘What nonsense!’

She turned and swam away, not wanting to entertain this fellow. Not receiving a response Zhan Beiye yelled, “I’m coming down if you don’t answer!”

“Plop!” Into the cold water, His Highness jumped.

As he entered the water, a snow-white body flashed across his vision like a nimble fish disappearing into the waves, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. Zhan Beiye made chase, and a voice could be heard from the shore above.

Zhan Beiye floated up, and under the moonlight, he saw a snow-white and exquisite female body flashing into the dense forest, two rows of footprint clearly visible.

Zhan Beiye soaked in the water, staring at the prints and processing the sight he had caught when jumping into the water. Her body was so slender and beautiful, and her skin was smooth and delicate. He saw as the crystal-like beads of water flowed southward, down her back and smooth, rather perky bum… he lay still, his body cold but palms burning hot. He subconsciously reached his hands forward to grasp the body that had already fluttered away.

All he had managed to catch was ice, cold water, that immediately slipped through the gap between his fingers.

He loosened his hands and crawled to the shore, his eyes sweeping across the footprints once more. The faint, red traces besides them caught his attention. He knew those traces were blood that had flowed from the sinister wounds from her body… he stood on the rock, feeling as though his heart had been smashed and shattered by it.

It was his fault… he had appeared too late…

Zhangsun Wuji had made the exception to let his troop pass, probably in hope that someone could assist Meng Fuyao when he wasn’t available. Yet, because of the darn duel that happened unexpectedly, Zhan Beiye’s efforts to save her were delayed, and he had almost killed her basically…

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