Chapter Eighty-Nine: Once Entering the Rivers and Lakes, Time Rushes By; A Hundred Years of Grievances, All Are Laid to Rest

Once you enter the world of rivers and lakes, the years hasten by, and all grudges and affections of a hundred years are laid to rest.

Han Mo Yi carried a tray into the room next to Ma Ruoxue’s, lit the candle with a fire striker, and sat down in the chair. He absentmindedly picked up two pieces of beef and stuffed them into his mouth, while his other hand casually broke the seal on a jar of wine.

He had drunk in the Central Plains before, but Han Mo Yi had not expected the wine of the desert to be so fierce. Yet after just one sip, he fell in love with that fiery spirit that seemed to burn right to the marrow.

Before long, most of the food and wine on the table had disappeared, and Han Mo Yi was feeling a little tipsy. Just as he set down his chopsticks, there came a gentle knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Han Mo Yi frowned and spoke in a low voice.

“It’s me, Murong Yunduo.” Han Mo Yi opened the door. Outside stood Murong Yunduo, carrying a bowl of steaming noodle soup.

“Come in.” Han Mo Yi stepped aside, and Murong Yunduo, unconcerned, walked in with the soup.

“Do you know Miss Ma?” Murong Yunduo set down the soup and asked.

“No, I don’t.” Han Mo Yi shook his head and glanced at the bowl—it was much better than the one given to Ma Ruoxue. Not only were there droplets of oil floating on top, but a few greens and a visible poached egg as well.

“Then why are you so good to her?” Murong Yunduo asked, half casually.

“She’s a pitiful soul,” Han Mo Yi replied offhandedly.

“Oh.” Murong Yunduo murmured thoughtfully and said nothing more.

Han Mo Yi, unwilling to reject her kindness, picked up his chopsticks and ate heartily. To his surprise, the taste was every bit as good as what he had had in the restaurants of the Central Plains.

When he finished eating, Murong Yunduo poured him a bowl of wine. Han Mo Yi took it and asked casually, “What are your plans for the future?”

Murong Yunduo raised her head to glance at him, then lowered it again. After a long silence, she still did not speak.

“Hm? You haven’t decided yet?” Han Mo Yi asked, puzzled.

Murong Yunduo hesitated a moment, then suddenly picked up the wine jar and took a gulp. She looked up, biting her lip, her gaze fixed on Han Mo Yi, and said, “The four of us sisters want to follow you, even if only as humble maids.”

Han Mo Yi was stunned. Seeing she’d said it, Murong Yunduo was no longer shy; she grasped his right sleeve with both hands, gently shaking him as she continued, “In these troubled times, we women only seek a place to rely on.”

Han Mo Yi had grown up reading the classics; he was unused to such a scene. Murong Yunduo’s flamboyant dress and her alluring face, made even more tempting by the wine, together with the softness of her touch on his arm, made his breathing grow heavy.

After a while, Han Mo Yi gently pushed her away, flustered, and stammered, “I—I’m sorry, we cannot do this.”

Murong Yunduo had not expected him to refuse so quickly. She stared at him in disbelief, then her face darkened.

Perhaps emboldened by the wine, Murong Yunduo raised her voice, “Oh, I understand. Lord Han despises us women of the dust as filthy.”

Han Mo Yi opened his mouth but said nothing. He knew, deep down, that he did feel that way to some extent, and so he did not know what to say.

Seeing his silence, Murong Yunduo gave a bitter, self-mocking smile. “Yes, our bodies are sullied, not as clean as Miss Ma’s. But,” she paused, then continued, word by word, “but we too are pitiful souls in this chaos.”

With that, Murong Yunduo left without another glance at Han Mo Yi, leaving him standing there in a daze.

The night passed in silence. The next morning, Han Mo Yi rose early.

Throughout the Cangying Fortress, after a night of wind, the air still carried the scent of blood, though it had faded much.

Han Mo Yi kept his head down as if searching for something. Before long, he found the strange blade in an open space.

The blade was unremarkable, but Han Mo Yi knew well it was extraordinary. The demon soldiers it had summoned yesterday still left him awed and fearful. Unknowingly, he had stepped into another world, one he had never set foot in during his eighteen years.

Sitting on the ground, Han Mo Yi watched the sunrise in the east. At last, he heard movement behind him and looked back to see Murong Yunduo and her three companions.

All four had changed into ordinary clothes, carrying modest bundles. After yesterday’s unpleasant parting, Han Mo Yi was unsure how to speak, but Murong Yunduo addressed him straightforwardly.

“We’re leaving. We’ve sorted out the Han family’s belongings and placed them in the main hall. We’re only taking what’s ours.” Murong Yunduo smiled, but Han Mo Yi clearly saw that the other three gazed at him with not only fear but also some hostility.

“Alright,” Han Mo Yi nodded, saying nothing more.

“Oh, and,” Murong Yunduo continued, as if remembering something, “there’s porridge cooked in the kitchen. You and Miss Ma should eat before you go.”

At last, she smiled at him. “Han Mo Yi, we’re leaving.”

With that, Murong Yunduo wasted no time, leading her companions outside, where four horses had been tied up. The four mounted two horses and rode off into the distance.

Only when their figures faded from view did Han Mo Yi softly say, “Wherever you go, may you have a safe journey.”

After a while, he heard gentle footsteps behind him. Without looking, he knew who it was.

“About yesterday, I’m sorry.” As expected, Ma Ruoxue’s gentle voice sounded behind him.

“It’s alright.” With that, Han Mo Yi stood and walked back toward Cangying Fortress, not even glancing at Ma Ruoxue as his spirits sank.

“Han Mo Yi, how can you be like this?” Watching his retreating back, Ma Ruoxue bit her lip and whispered. She could not understand why, after apologizing, Han Mo Yi still treated her so coldly. Fighting back tears, Ma Ruoxue could not help but regret—her family had sent her sister, yet she insisted on coming herself; not only was she captured by bandits, now she had to endure Han Mo Yi’s indifference.

After a while, Ma Ruoxue snorted under her breath, “Hmph, Han Mo Yi, when we reach the Ma family, I’ll settle accounts with you.”

Determined, Ma Ruoxue hurried after him.

After eating the porridge, Han Mo Yi stood in the main hall, gazing at the Han family’s belongings scattered on the floor, his eyes growing red. Ma Ruoxue wisely kept silent.

After some time, Han Mo Yi bent down and picked up a jade bracelet, his mother Mu Yuan’s favorite in her lifetime. He hesitated, then gathered a few valuables and tucked them away.

Half an hour later, a blazing fire rose in the Cangying Fortress of the northern desert, and rolling black smoke soared up to the clouds.