Chapter Ninety-Two: Three Lives, Three Worlds

The night was deep, and atop the tall trees, a pair of lovers nestled close together.

Beneath their feet, the snow had been swept aside, revealing a winding path. The wind drifted by, bringing with it a hint of chill.

“Ji Wuqing, Ziqing, may I tell you a story?” Xuexue shrank into herself, burying her face into Ji Wuqing’s warm embrace as she continued, “Legend has it that a love destined to shake the world must endure trials across three lifetimes before it comes to fruition. Once as immortals together, once as mortals, and once as an immortal and a demon—only after surviving these three lifetimes can their love last forever, and only then can they enjoy happiness without care.”

Ji Wuqing finally adjusted to Xuexue’s sudden affection. He reached out, covering her back, gently patting her.

“Why is that? If they love each other, why must they be hindered by three lifetimes?” he asked, holding her tightly, the two of them wrapped snugly within the fox-fur cloak.

He was genuinely puzzled, his handsome face marked by confusion as he listened to her words.

“There’s a saying that true love must withstand trials.”

“That’s rather intriguing, but, Xue’er, what are you getting at?”

“Ziqing, don’t you think that if we were in such a situation, then right now would be the second lifetime of our three? If not, then perhaps in our past life we never even crossed paths, and in this life, we’re nothing but fleeting travelers in each other’s endless cycle…”

“Three lifetimes?” Ji Wuqing frowned slightly, gazing into Xuexue’s eyes, bright as red blossoms. He gave a serene smile. “Xue’er, three lifetimes are far from enough. Even if it were endless eons of hardship, what would it matter? Even if I had to trade eternal life for a single fated union with you, I would do so without regret.”

His words were somewhat imperious, his gaze unwavering.

“Silly Ziqing, I was only speaking carelessly—did you really take it seriously?” Xuexue arched a sly smile, her lightly made-up face alive with mischief and vibrancy.

“You’re too playful, Xue’er.” Ji Wuqing tapped her nose helplessly, his doting affection overflowing.

After he tapped her nose, Xuexue paused, staring blankly at Ji Wuqing, a strange feeling sweeping through her heart. The sensation flashed by in an instant, but her chest throbbed with a dull pain that made her involuntarily curl up.

Though she sensed her condition had improved somewhat, it was but a temporary reprieve. Now, the truth of her frailty was showing.

Yet, after so much difficulty, she could finally face Ji Wuqing like this—she didn’t want to reveal the agony twisting her features before him. Especially not today, on their day of joy…

“Xue’er, relax, don’t force yourself so,” he murmured, gently cupping her head and pressing her to his chest.

His voice was soft and warm, brushing over her heart like the gentlest down.

She tried her best to relax as he’d urged, but the rising blood in her chest surged uncontrollably to her throat; a sweet taste filled her mouth, and bright blood trickled from her lips, staining Ji Wuqing’s crimson robe.

Xuexue clutched at her chest as if desperately enduring something.

“I’ve soiled your robe,” she said, lifting her head in a wan smile, the corners of her mouth still smeared with vivid blood—a shocking sight.

Ji Wuqing said nothing. She sensed he was silently watching her, his gaze cool and distant, as if he were angry. Instinctively, she tugged at his robe, her expression all innocence.

At last, he lowered his forehead to hers. “It’ll be all right, Xue’er. You must believe me, do you understand?” he whispered by her ear, his words as faint as a distant breeze—impossible to catch, yet so gentle.

So, he was afraid as well? Afraid that her venom could never be cured, afraid she’d suffer endless torment until her body slowly failed… Who could guarantee that the blood-tears would not take her life? Its cruelest trait was to inflict slow, drawn-out suffering…

Afterward, she fell asleep in Ji Wuqing’s arms. She knew her exhaustion was due to the blood-tears, but she didn’t know that Ji Wuqing held her for a long, long time beneath the stars, nor the meaning behind his final sigh…

“Qinghe, watch Hui Zhai’s movements closely—take necessary action if anything stirs.” Ji Wuqing quietly cradled the semi-conscious girl in his arms, her hands never leaving his waist. “While I’m away these few days, you all must stay alert.”

“Yes,” Qinghe replied with a nod, saying no more.

“You treat her so tenderly, yet perhaps she knows nothing of it. Should she hear the rumors outside, she might even resent you,” a cold female voice rang out from above. She walked out slowly, pausing beneath a nearby osmanthus tree, watching him gaze at the girl in his arms with deep affection.

Even though the girl had lost consciousness, his tenderness never wavered.

Yet, if the blind empress learned of Ji Wuqing’s actions, would she truly understand? Would she realize it was for her sake, and not that he was using her to set a trap for Wu Kingdom, or seizing this chance to stoke conflict between the two realms?

“Today is my wedding day—I won’t hold it against you,” he said, embracing Xuexue tightly, his gaze never lifting.

“Indeed, it’s a joyous day, yet King Ji cannot stay by his beloved queen’s side, but must instead depart on a secret journey,” Gongshen Linger remarked, her beautiful eyes glinting with coldness.

Like the biting wind of winter.

“Master Gongshen, you seem awfully sympathetic to my plight. Enough of your pretense—if not for you people, would I be laboring so?” His tone was gentle, but his words cut straight to the heart.

He held the girl in his arms, each movement careful, then descended lightly, landing on the flat path below. His crimson robes fluttered through the air in graceful, dazzling arcs.

“Ji Wuqing!” Seeing him about to leave with Xuexue, Gongshen Linger called out, her voice edged with exasperation. “It is unwise to make an enemy of Wu Kingdom for this woman. Who would have thought the peerless King of Ji would one day bring disaster upon his nation for the sake of beauty?”

But Ji Wuqing did not pause; instead, his reply was sharp, “Remember your place. You are now nothing but a prisoner of Ji, not the pampered princess of Wu.” With a single sentence, he silenced her completely.

Dreams—unreal, yet rooted in reality. When the dream ends, perhaps all will have changed.

She had a strange dream. In it, Ji Wuqing escorted her from the palace and entrusted her to another. She felt reluctant—hadn’t they promised, never to part even in death? Yet, in the end, he did give her into someone else’s hands?

She thought she felt something wet against the corner of her eye—perhaps tears.

She knew it was not a dream, but something real. Though drowsy and muddled from the blood-tears, she still retained a vague awareness of events.

When she awoke again, she found herself in a strange manor surrounded by fresh, clean air, with not a trace of familiarity. But she knew this was not Zuo Qiu Liyue’s domain—at the very least, Ji Wuqing would never truly give her to him.

“What are you thinking about?”

A young woman gazed at the quietly contemplative girl. This girl was always inscrutable—her simplicity on the surface belied an unfathomable depth.

“Just wondering how he found my mother.” She hadn’t expected Ji Wuqing to send her here—did he trick her again?

“Wuqing, you mustn’t underestimate him,” Qiu Hua mused. “That boy is insufferably smug.” Her tone was both fond and disparaging.

“Who talks about their own son like that?” Wuma Chou happened by and interjected.

“Old Wuma, you said it yourself—he’s my son, so I’ll say whatever I please,” Qiu Hua retorted, rolling her eyes, her demeanor nothing like the gentle, virtuous mother she’d first seemed, but rather like a spirited girl in her prime.

“That’s not quite right, Miss. My mouth belongs to me—I’ll say what I want,” Wuma Chou answered, giving her a look before strolling away without a care.

Qiu Hua could only laugh and shake her head. “That old Wuma just has to butt into everything! Xue’er, you don’t know—Wuqing has known we were here for ages. He just never revealed it. Now, for your sake, he’s finally let the secret out. Tell me, isn’t he good to you?”

At these words, Xuexue’s lashes trembled. Reclining against the soft couch, her pale face seemed lost in thought.

Qiu Hua didn’t disturb her, instead waiting patiently for her answer.

But…

“Mother, may I ask you something?” Xuexue wrapped her hands around her steaming teacup, her tone seemingly casual. “What is your connection to the Empress Dowager?”

The mountains were already silent, and now the stillness grew even deeper.

Qiu Hua looked startled but did not blame Xuexue for her bluntness.

“That boy Wuqing…” Qiu Hua muttered, then said, “It seems he holds you at the very center of his heart, telling you even these things. In truth, there’s nothing to hide. The Qiu family was once a great clan of the martial world, respected by all. Alas, I was young and reckless then, too unruly by nature. At sixteen, I met the late king in disguise—and it was I who first fell for him. Later, when I learned he was the king, I didn’t hesitate to enter the palace in search of him. That was my mistake—he used me to restrain the Qiu family’s influence, but, in the end, I went willingly.”

Here, she sighed bitterly, her tone tinged with self-mockery, but more with the detachment that time brings.

“Mother, do you not hate him?” Xuexue asked softly.

“He’s gone now—what use is hatred?” she replied, after a quiet pause.

The past drifts away like the wind; why dwell on it? Perhaps, no matter how true and deep that love once was, time has reduced it to nothing but a memory. So, should she not face it all bravely?

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