Chen Yi’s body was half-covered in blood as he walked slowly through the bamboo forest.
From behind ca a faint sound of movent.
Chen Yi turned his head and saw that towering, eight-foot-tall figure, obscuring the twilight, looking down at him from above.
"So, you’ve figured it out?" Chen Yi asked with a faint smile.
Qin Qingluo approached leisurely, her spear in hand, responding with a question unrelated to his:
"Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you with a single strike?"
The dusk sank deeper into the bamboo forest. Fallen bamboo leaves danced with the wind, skimming between the two, as the warm hues of the sunset faded. The atmosphere darkened, filled with an air of nace.
Chen Yi’s gaze grew slightly more focused.
Calmly, he said, "I always thought Prince Qin Qingluo of Annan was soone who repaid kindness with gratitude."
"Gratitude is just a ans," the statuesque woman paused before continuing, "And vengeance, too, is a ans."
"Oh?" Chen Yi drew out the syllable.
"Kill you, and take good care of your family—tell , wouldn’t that fulfill both vengeance and gratitude?" Qin Qingluo proposed with layered aning in her tone.
Chen Yi was silent for a mont, then burst into laughter: "What a clever plan. Family, after all, is just a matter of definition for you. I fear that in the end, only Zhu E would count as family, and you were always going to treat her well."
Qin Qingluo lifted her spear, saying, "Ah, so in front of Chen Qianhu, the Prince of Annan is revealed to be this ruthless."
Chen Yi countered, "And isn’t it true?"
"Not yet," Qin Qingluo replied.
Chen Yi lapsed into silence.
Qin Qingluo did not look at him, but lowered her serpent-like eyes.
He was a man she sotis understood completely, and other tis not at all.
She had thought his visit this ti was nothing more than the indulgence of lust born from leisure and plenty. She did not expect him to have her bring him here, and furthermore, to impart his understanding using his sword as his heart.
This gesture carried the air of a reclusive sage passing on profound techniques to a kindred spirit.
But Chen Yi was no reclusive sage. Even disregarding the enmity between them, Qin Qingluo still couldn’t forget how, back at dicine Temple, he had first helped her comprehend martial intent, only to then destroy it utterly alongside the Purple Electric Gun.
Because of that, when Chen Yi used his sword to transmit his heart, she asked no questions, and he gave no explanations.
"Shall we walk for a while?" Chen Yi asked.
Qin Qingluo did not refuse.
She, holding her spear by her side, walked up to him, and the two began to walk shoulder to shoulder.
As they walked, Chen Yi plucked a falling bamboo leaf in front of him, clasping it lightly between his hands, as if fiddling with it.
Saying they were walking together was just a forality. Their footprints stretched out, one after the other, along the narrow path in the bamboo forest. Beyond those imprints, there was no conversation between them.
The female prince’s thoughts were slightly conflicted.
The conflict wasn’t about grappling with kindness and resentnt. It was that she couldn’t quite see through Chen Yi.
Since her first encounter with him, Qin Qingluo had often found herself unable to truly discern his intentions.
Ti and again, she thought she’d begun to understand him, only for him to suddenly change, leaving her once again perplexed, forcing her to start over. This repeated over and over again.
One such ti was when he gifted her a hairpin.
Back then, she had been clearly entrusting Zhu E to him, yet he hadn’t mocked her; nor had he nodded in acknowledgnt. Instead, he’d simply tucked the hairpin into her hair.
To this day, that golden hairpin remained.
At first, Qin Qingluo had been puzzled, but then she realized that this man was thoroughly lecherous. Giving them hairpins wasn’t so much a calculated move but rather a way to gain their favor for his desires.
What followed—his licentiousness after saving lives—seed to confirm her suspicions.
And yet, this ti he had co, but not for that.
She had clearly undone her robe, but he remained unmoved. Instead, he brought her here and used his sword to teach her his heart.
These contradictions left Qin Qingluo once again unable to understand him.
The two continued along the small path, which seed to lead them astray. The more they walked, the longer and farther the road stretched, as if approaching its end.
Lost in her thoughts, Qin Qingluo glanced at the man beside her, who was a head shorter than she. Unsure what to say, she raised her arm slightly.
A sudden punch roared forth.
At the path’s near end, Chen Yi appeared to have anticipated it. As his legs bent, and in the grayish light of dusk, the punch struck emptiness, its force exploding through the bamboo forest with a loud swish.
When her punch missed, Qin Qingluo discarded her spear, raised her left arm, and struck out again.
This ti, Chen Yi lifted both hands in a gesture of embrace. As the punch passed between his hands, he abruptly tightened his palms, attempting to trap her fist.
Qin Qingluo’s arm throbbed with pain, yet her face remained expressionless. She twisted her body, her right fist lashing out like a whip, ferocious as a sudden thunderclap.
Chen Yi had no choice but to release her hand, stepping left, his left fist slightly bent upward before striking out—a direct punch tearing through the air toward her face.
But as her whip-like punch flung forward, Qin Qingluo abruptly shifted. Her right hand stopped midway and reversed course, her elbow retaliating, eting his punch head-on. The collision sent waves of energy rippling out, scattering the bamboo leaves like startled birds and beasts.
At the road’s end, their reflexes matched in swiftness. Even without weapons, their combat with bare fists rivaled that of well-trained martial artists in physical disciplines.
The collision forced both of them to retreat almost simultaneously.
Chen Yi didn’t ask why she had suddenly attacked. Instead, he silently stared at the woman who carried his child.
Perhaps Qin Qingluo herself didn’t fully understand why she had burst into violence.
Just as Chen Yi didn’t quite comprehend why he had insisted on sharing his heart through his sword.
Reflecting briefly, Chen Yi realized that perhaps, at that mont, all he’d wanted was to make their last eting less unbearable.
After all, she was still the first woman in two lifetis to carry his child.
And the humiliation he’d dealt her before had already been more than enough.
Suddenly, Qin Qingluo surged toward him, like a hawk descending upon its prey. With no flourish, a straightforward punch thundered toward Chen Yi’s face.
Chen Yi raised his right arm and, as the punch neared, used the side of his arm to deflect it. Simultaneously, his left hand clenched into a fist and rose slightly in preparation.
A glint of malevolence flashed in Qin Qingluo’s eyes as she lifted off the ground, ready to counter with a knee strike while extending her left hand—a perfect example of the saying, "when the mantis stalks the cicada, the oriole lies in wait."
But Chen Yi’s right arm suddenly shot downward, his elbow striking her knee aside. Cracks ford instantly on the ground. At the sa ti, Qin Qingluo’s left hand struck forward like a thunderclap, unstoppable in its force.
Yet as the punch reached its zenith, it halted.
Because Chen Yi’s left hand had already reached her chin before hers could land.
"I’ve lost," she said.
Qin Qingluo stared at his left hand, then chuckled bitterly, "In your palm... another killing move, no doubt."
Chen Yi simply said, "Wrong. You’ve won."
Hearing this, Qin Qingluo’s serpent-like pupils widened slightly.
His palm unfurled slowly...
It was not a killing move.
Instead, it was a white mountain daisy, swaying gently in the wind. Who knew when he had hidden it in his hand?
"Hey, I’m giving you a mountain daisy," he said offhandedly, smirking playfully. "How about you recognize as your half-master?"
Qin Qingluo froze.
She stood there, unmoving for a long mont.
Her fingers twitched slightly as she pinched the daisy with a little force, crushing it in an instant. The petals scattered into fragnts, dissolving into the night.
"It’s still my loss," Qin Qingluo said coldly.
She had crushed the inexplicable daisy with her own hands.
Chen Yi didn’t respond. He turned his back to her.
He saw that the path had reached its end. A thousand inexplicable emotions knotted in his chest, and he wanted to sigh softly, "You think there’s still a road at the end, but it’s already reached its conclusion." Yet the words stuck in his throat.
In the end, all that ca out was a soft utterance:
"Perhaps this is for the best."
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