Legend of Fu Yao

Meng Fuyao mounted on the horse and said, “Zhuzhu, go back first. Let me be alone for a while.”

Feeling worried, Ya Lanzhu was about to oppose, but she suddenly changed her mind. “Be careful then.”

Meng Fuyao nodded, and her horse galloped away against the wind. Weaving through crowds and zooming past alleys, she rode towards the direction closest to Qiongcang.

Ten miles away from the city, a small mountain and a glistening pond could be seen on the horizon.

When she dismounted and admired the scenery, she got lost in her thoughts. Somewhere in her memory, she remembered that her hometown also had such a crystal-clear pond, which she used to fish in when she was young.

In such a frosty and dark night with the gentle breeze and the wilting flowers, who would light up the path for the lost? Who would use his body temperature to warm the hearts of the disheartened?

Behind her, someone slowly approached her and spoke, “Fuyao, the brave are not afraid of crying.”

His voice was gentle and encompassed the deep and steady tone of one who had been through ups and downs. It sounded as though he had been through the same pain, like a piece of jade that cracked and reflected a beautiful gleam which appeared shiner and warmer.

Meng Fuyao suddenly turned back… and leaped towards the warmth.

She leaped into his hug.

In her whole life, her tears had never been so worthless, and buckets after buckets of them fell and drenched his shoulder. The patch of light-purple cloth darkened a few shades, turning into the color of the lavenders that were beside the pond.

Meng Fuyao pressed herself tightly into his arms and boldly rubbed her tears and mucus on his shoulder. She wanted to use this seemingly imaginary hug as a consolation, for her to vent all her frustration that had been pent-up for 18 years.

She bawled, “She has more white hair now…”

“At least they let her stay until winter…”

“She has grown age spots… age spots…”

“They must have gotten their hands on the treasure, if not where did the hospital fees come from…”

“At least they still have the conscience to accompany her…”

“What a dumb bunch, can she even eat hot pot?”

“Who’s going to clean her body? Those clumsy nurses? How willing are they to help? She’s so prideful… there are some things… there are some things that no one can help her with…”

“She’s still waiting for me…”

Zhangsun Wuji trembled at the last line and immediately, Meng Fuyao quietened. All her negative emotions seemed to have been slightly discharged, and she realized that some things could not be said straightforwardly.

Her wish to return was something that could not be easily revealed. To her enemies, that meant asking for trouble; to her friends, it was still troublesome. The wisest and most open of her companions, Zhangsun Wuji, would allow her some space and freedom. But even he would never accept her leaving the Five Regions Continent and this world, especially if it meant eternally departing from him.

She had to bear the pain herself.

Lifting her sleeve to her face, she wiped away the tears and then collapsed on the floor – the breath that she had been hanging on to was finally released, and she no longer had any remaining strength left.

Placing his hands over her shoulder, Zhangsun Wuji hugged her shoulders as he sat down on the grass patch, and silently watched the clear moonlight.

The wind was a bit strong in the wild, and both their robes fluttered against the wind. Under the moonlight, two distinct silhouettes sat side-by-side, and their identities could not be mistaken. As they held each other in their arms, they admired the scenery until their eyes were moist. In such broad and mellow wilderness, be it one or two figures, they were but two stones that were buried in the depths of the abyss of time, surrounded by endless loneliness and barrenness.

Unexpectedly, Zhangsun Wuji’s body scent turned stronger in such a frosty place. Meanwhile, bells seemed to chime from a faraway monastery. As Meng Fuyao whiffed in the scent and listened to the chimes, memories flooded back to her, and she found herself traversing between reality and imagination. In her daze, she seemed to have understood something, but that thought faded away in an instant.

Gently, Zhangsun Wuji spoke, “Fuyao.”

“Hmm?”

“Humans are bitterly obsessed over pursuing their wants, but they don’t realize that it’s right beside them.”

Meng Fuyao tilted her head in confusion and tried to process what he said. ‘What did he mean?’

“Fuyao, do you have any wants?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly.

“Me too.” Zhangsun Wuji looked up at the moon and added, “When I was young, I’ve always wanted my mother not to keep sighing at me, which made me feel as though she never liked me. When I was teen, I wanted to find someone whom I could protect, to assure myself that I’m still needed. Afterward, I suddenly realized that what I’ve been looking for has always been beside me. The journey ahead is long, but I wish to forever accompany her down this path.”

Meng Fuyao did not reply. Moments later, she said, “Some paths are destined to be completed alone.”

Above her, a solitary silence prevailed. Far away in the wide field, petals were blown away by the wind, and they descended like solitary snowflakes.

Closing her eyes, Meng Fuyao felt that her heart was overwhelmed with an aching bitterness, and it was so bitter that it seeped into her organs. Life was never docile – it resembled a beast that crouched in the darkness, refusing to be tamed. She could accept being beaten black and blue by fate, but she had no way of preventing innocent people from suffering as a result.

Not thick-skinned enough to linger in Zhangsun Wuji’s warmth, Meng Fuyao struggled away and was about to stand up. However, Zhangsun Wuji hugged her with even more strength. She tried to push him away, but he flipped her shoulders to face him instead.

As a dark shadow fell upon her, his lips descended.

It landed on her lips.

A moment of affection.

The taste of their lips was enchanting; they had only drank tea, but there was a faint and intoxicating scent of alcohol. They transited from one type of softness to the other, and from one type of entanglement to the other. His kiss was the wind. It was the moon, the clouds, the mist, the purest of all nature, gently creeping in her dreams and filling up her world inch by inch. If she was barren, he would be her saturation; if she was dry, he would bring moistness to her.

It felt like their first kiss in the hot spring – he was still as devoted and affectionate. At first, his lips brushed against hers as delicately as a flower depicted by a poet, but he became firmer and stronger. He bit her lips in vexation as if to seal his mark on her so that she would forever remember his scent and the memories associated with him. Electric sparks flew as their tongues battled against each other, and they shuddered as they whimpered in silence. Meng Fuyao started to gasp for air, but he would adamantly seal her gasps between their connected lips. Bit by bit, he kissed away the blood stains beside her lips and shared that metallic taste with her.

Sensing her struggle, Zhangsun Wuji increased the force of his hug. From the time that they met, he had let her fly away from him far too many times, and her soaring wings resembled knives that left bloody cuts across his heart. That night, he no longer wanted to let go, even if that meant going against her for once!

Zhangsun Wuji neither wanted life to be too long of a journey nor to flash by like a stroke of lightning. If he had to die a righteous death one day and end up becoming a faded memory of hers, at least this painful kiss would remind her of their shared journey of vicissitudes.

Such an aggressive and heavy kiss did not seem to belong to the composed Zhangsun Wuji, but it really compressed against Meng Fuyao’s heart. She softened, bending more and more backward in his arms, like the arch of a willow branch. But the tears in her eyes gradually fell, silently sliding down Zhangsun Wuji’s face, and he sucked it up.

This kiss was so long, yet so short.

Finally releasing her, Zhangsun Wuji traced his lips to her forehead and gave a gentle peck. Then, he placed his forehead against hers and stopped moving.

Their breaths were hitting on each other’s face, intertwining with each other. Meng Fuyao’s light pants drifted in the quiet surroundings, and rosiness finally appeared on her ashen face. It was such a rare moment that she revealed an expression as charming as spring.

Deeply gazing into her, Zhangsun Wuji whispered, “Fuyao… what I am supposed to do with you?”

A few seconds later, she smiled. “I realized that our relationship can’t even rely on fate. There are some things that Heaven has never bestowed upon us, right from the start.”

As her blush faded and clarity returned to her eyes, Meng Fuyao got on her knees and slowly smoothened out her messy hair.

Meng Fuyao could not say it, or allow herself to be unrestrained, or overindulge in those feelings. If in the past she had ever doubted the value of her determination, from now on, she would never look back again.

Her mother was waiting for her.

It was confirmed that the past 18 years that she had most feared were no longer a life-and-death barrier between her and her mother.

What other reason was there to stop her from returning?

Zhangsun Wuji slowly released his hand. Such a helpless pair of hands desolately tried to grab onto her, but there were only a few drops of dew in his palm.

The person standing opposite him was silent but adamant and encompassed unwavering determination.

Gazing at Meng Fuyao quietly, he seemed to witness the bitter consequence of his compromise, but he could only swallow that harsh outcome, even as its sharp edges uncomfortably blocked the passageway of his heart.