The weapons in the hands of the imperial guards gleamed coldly, their reflections flickering across Fu Yi Xiao’s pale face as she sat motionless against the rocky cliff. Her gaze lowered, she plucked softly at the string of her silver bow — a melody faint and sorrowful, carried away by the wind.
“Day after day, month after month,
How swiftly they pass, how they diminish.
My heart is filled with sorrow,
As if I cannot wash away this stain.
In quiet contemplation,
I find I cannot take flight.”
The final note lingered like a sigh. Yi Xiao slowly rose, using her bow as support, her eyes lifting toward the sky as the wind whipped through her hair.
Ning Fei’s vision blurred with tears. Yi Xiao — his childhood companion, his comrade through countless battles, the one he trusted with his back — what unshakable resolve had driven her to such a desperate end?
Xiao Weiran’s voice was low, filled with restrained helplessness. “Yi Xiao, if you surrender and plead guilty, Ning Fei and I will beg His Highness for mercy. But if you persist, you’ll leave us no choice.”
Yi Xiao stood silent, her silver bow resting against her shoulder. The wind tugged at her blood-stained robes as she straightened them with trembling hands. Her eyes, deep and distant, reflected nothing but an empty stillness.
Ning Fei’s voice cracked as he drove his sword into the ground. “Come down right now, or I’ll lose my temper!”
Her lips curved faintly, voice rough but steady. “You should understand. When I came here today, I never intended to leave alive.”
The words struck Ning Fei motionless. Xiao Weiran’s tone softened. “Come down. Ning Fei and I will find a way to mediate this — we won’t let—”
“I know,” Yi Xiao cut him off gently, her smile calm yet distant. “But I don’t want to thank you. Knowing you both in this life is enough. There’s only one thing I must tell His Highness before I come down. Ning Fei, come closer.”
Without hesitation, he approached her. Yi Xiao’s gaze was clear as glass. “Tell His Highness… never to forget me. Tell him to be prepared — for I will haunt him, for all eternity.”
She ripped the iron arrow from her shoulder and tossed it toward Ning Fei. Then, without a backward glance, she leapt into the endless void below.
“Your Highness, since you cannot give me the love I desire, then let me seize your soul. Let me carve my name into your bones — so that you will remember me, Fu Yi Xiao, for all your life.”
Ning Fei froze before collapsing to his knees, his scream echoing through the mountains. “Damn you, Yi Xiao! Why did you have to die alone like this, you fool!”
Even the guards stood in stunned silence. Xiao Weiran closed his eyes, sighing to the heavens. “Let’s go back and report. Bring the arrow.”
The others obeyed reluctantly. One guard picked up the arrow from beside Ning Fei before following their commander down the mountain. Only Ning Fei remained, staring into the abyss, his grief swallowed by the howling wind.
“Why, Yi Xiao? After all these years, why can’t I understand you? Why can’t I see you the way Weiran does?”
“Yi Xiao!” His anguished cry echoed again and again through the valley until it faded into nothing.
At the foot of the cliff, Prince Xia Jingshi’s hand trembled as he held the bloodstained arrow. Xiao Weiran’s voice still rang in his ears, each word piercing like a blade. In his mind, Yi Xiao’s face rose before him — eyes turned to the sky, perhaps hiding her tears.
Xiao Weiran sighed heavily. “Ning Fei is still at the cliff. He and Yi Xiao were close — he may not come down for a long while. Before she jumped, she said she would haunt you for eternity.”
Xia Jingshi gripped the arrow tighter, silent for a long moment before ordering, “Turn back. We return to Lu City.”
Ten days later, rumors swept through the Jinxiu Dynasty — Prince Xia Jingshi of Zhennan had fallen gravely ill en route to Susha Country for his political marriage. The alliance was indefinitely postponed.
But Fu Yi Xiao had not died.
Her battered body drifted through the rushing waters below the cliff. Bruised, bleeding, she made no effort to save herself. If my heart is already dead, what purpose does this body serve?
Then — a rope tightened around her neck, dragging her upward. She struggled weakly, gasping. Don’t save me, unless you are him.
But the pull did not cease until she was hauled onto the rocky bank. A pair of curious, bright eyes met hers.
“Oh? You’re not dead?”
“Why did you save me?” Yi Xiao whispered.
“Idiot,” the girl retorted, rolling her eyes. “If I hadn’t, you’d be fish food by now!”
Ling Xueying untied the rope, her expression half-scolding, half-amused.
Yi Xiao could not return to the Fu family. Once her wounds healed, she followed Xueying to Cang City. There, among the elegant courtyards and graceful servants, she found fragile peace. Xueying’s father, the city’s guard, had once roamed the martial world but had traded his sword for an official’s seal to protect his family. After hearing Yi Xiao’s story, he said simply, “To be happy, one must learn to let go.”
Let go. Two simple words — yet they cut deeper than any blade.
Haunted by love and hate alike, Yi Xiao buried her pain beneath revelry. Her bow hung silent on the wall as she drowned her nights in wine and song. For four long years, her name — “Pingling’s Beauty, Yi Xiao” — echoed through taverns and tea houses. But each night ended in hollow silence. No music could fill the emptiness left by him.
The string of longing in her heart was wound too tight, threatening to snap. She dared not cry, dared not remember, for even the faintest thought would unravel her completely.
Through it all, Xueying never left her side. When Yi Xiao drank, she brewed tea. When Yi Xiao wept, she offered a shoulder. The spoiled young lady became her only anchor amid the storm.
One day, while browsing books together, Yi Xiao asked, “We’re not family, so why are you so kind to me?”
Xueying tapped her on the forehead with a book, laughing. “If you die, who will sneak out with me to play?”
Yi Xiao smiled faintly as Xueying ran off laughing.
Let the days pass like this — until the string snaps, until the heart shatters, until the weight of longing disappears.
“To be happy, one must learn to let go.”
The next morning, Xueying departed, reminding Yi Xiao to wait for her before returning to Lu City. Yi Xiao agreed, but deep down she knew — they would soon be found.
Hoofbeats thundered in the distance. At Pingling’s gate, chaos reigned. Guards checked every traveler, comparing faces to painted scrolls.
“What’s happening?” Xueying’s maid, Xiumu, grumbled. “Why now, of all days?”
The coachman sighed. “It’s been like this for days, Miss. They say someone’s run away — some important family’s in uproar.”
Xueying lifted the curtain slightly, her eyes scanning the crowd. Her expression changed. “Turn back,” she ordered. “I’m not leaving. You’ll still get your fare.”
The driver hesitated, then nodded. Xiumu looked alarmed. “Young miss—”
Xueying raised a hand. “Quiet. We’ll talk when we’re safe.”
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