Chapter 41: Peaceful Years

Outside the window, a single leaf drifted lazily to the ground. Beigong Qiyi gently patted Ximo’s hand. “Ximo, don’t you want to tell me about your family?” The delicate young man, leaning into Beigong Qiyi’s arms, gradually relaxed. He gazed at the slender, pale hand resting on his own and spoke in a quiet tone, “My parents were not ordinary people. They were members of the ‘Palace of a Hundred Evils’...” He glanced anxiously at Beigong Qiyi, but seeing the youth’s expression unchanged, he continued, “They held a somewhat respected position within the Palace. You know, the Palace of a Hundred Evils has always been considered a demonic sect in the martial world. People believe anyone from there deserves to be killed…”

A bleak smile flickered across Ximo’s face. “My parents were hunted down while on a mission. With their last strength, they managed to get me out, but as for themselves…” A tear fell onto their intertwined hands. Ximo’s pale lips quivered as he instinctively gripped Beigong Qiyi’s hand tighter. “I never saw my parents die. All I remember is my mother, covered in blood, dragging me and screaming for me to run. She was always so fond of cleanliness, but that time she was drenched in filthy blood... I couldn’t look back. I could only run forward with all my might. And then, I met you.”

He remembered it vividly, even though he was still a child then. Just as he collapsed, unable to run any further, a flash of yellow appeared before his eyes—a pure, spotless pale yellow, imprinted in his mind as the last sight before he fainted.

When he woke again, the nauseating stench of blood was gone, replaced by a faint, pleasant fragrance. Ximo took in the empty room; all he remembered was that pale yellow. And then, that figure in yellow stood before him—alive, real. Ximo stared in a daze at the young boy before him, certain he would never again see anyone so beautiful.

Beigong Qiyi looked him over. The boy, freshly washed, was delicate-featured but slight. Seeing the way he stared, Beigong Qiyi couldn’t help but tease him, tilting up the boy’s small, sharp chin. “What? Are you so dazzled you can’t speak?”

The boy’s face instantly flushed crimson. He hurriedly averted his gaze, looking everywhere but at Beigong Qiyi. Amused, Beigong Qiyi let go and sat casually on the bed, arms crossed, a brow raised. “What’s your name?”

The boy blinked nervously, swallowing hard. “M-my name is Ximo.” Beigong Qiyi nodded, picked up a bowl of medicine, and offered it. “Drink this.” Ximo frowned at the thick, dark liquid; just the smell of it was unbearably bitter. He pressed his pale lips together and whispered, “Do I have to…”

Beigong Qiyi arched an eyebrow. “Yes.” Ximo looked up at him, eyes round and pleading, but Beigong Qiyi was unmoved, pushing the bowl closer. With no choice, Ximo took it and, holding his breath, swallowed it all in one go.

The bitterness was even worse than the smell. Ximo’s whole face puckered. Beigong Qiyi chuckled softly and handed over a candied fruit, “Eat this.” Ximo quickly popped it in his mouth; the sweetness slowly dispelled the bitterness, even melting a little of the ache in his heart.

With tear-filled eyes, Ximo looked at the youth before him, only to see the smile suddenly vanish. His tears, about to spill, were forced back by sheer will. He clenched his fists and glared with reddened eyes. Beigong Qiyi shook his head and, reaching out, pulled Ximo into a warm embrace.

The sorrow of losing his parents and the fear of being alone finally broke through. In that warm embrace, Ximo wept loudly, clutching the youth’s clothes as if afraid of being abandoned again.

He remembered how, as he sobbed, the youth patted his back and asked quietly, “Would you like to stay with me from now on?” Ximo’s hands tightened on the fabric and he nodded with all his strength.

From that day on, that shade of yellow became etched deep in his memory.

Ximo took a deep breath and looked up at Beigong Qiyi’s beautiful face. Beigong Qiyi smiled gently, wiping the tears from Ximo’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressed you.” Ximo shook his head hard. “If anything, I should thank you—for giving me the courage to face it.” And thank you, for helping me remember...

Beigong Qiyi released him, softly brushing the tear stains from his face. “It’s all right. Everything is in the past now…” Ximo forced a smile and nodded slowly.

He knew that Beigong Qiyi had never actually answered whether he suspected him.

Outside the window, another leaf drifted down. Ximo lowered his eyes, his lashes fluttering as the leaf touched the ground. Beigong Qiyi patted his shoulder. “Go rest.” Ximo nodded obediently and walked out.

He watched that slender figure until it disappeared. Only then did Beigong Qiyi narrow his eyes and turn away. He stood and walked to the window, gazing at the leaves, now scattered thick on the ground, and slowly closed his eyes.

Outside, the towering trees were lush and full. Beigong Qiyi pushed the window open and flicked his fingers. Instantly, leaves rustled and fell, and in mere moments, the branches were bare. Beigong Qiyi looked up at the now-bare limbs and felt his mood lighten.

He tossed his cloak onto the bed and summoned a maid to help change his clothes and arrange his hair. He fastened a delicate red jade pendant at his waist, stroking it gently. “Does this jade pendant look good?” he asked offhandedly. The maid, startled that the young master spoke to her, blushed and stammered, “Of course, anything you wear looks beautiful.”

Beigong Qiyi smiled, caressed the pendant again, and walked unhurriedly out of the Hall of Leisure.

The maid stared after the youth’s slender, upright figure, puzzled. When the young master left just now, she thought she’d heard him say something—very softly: What matters is the one who gave the jade...

The one who gave the jade… The maid tilted her head. That must be someone the young master likes. Otherwise, why treasure it so much? Whoever can win the young master’s favor… must be an extraordinary person. She folded up Beigong Qiyi’s cloak and, recalling his smile as he touched the pendant, felt a sudden chill.

That smile was so gentle—why did it send a shudder down her spine? Bemused, she paused, then shook her head and resumed her work. It’s none of my business anyway; why worry? So she thought.

As Beigong Qiyi entered the outer courtyard of the Pavilion of Ballads, he saw a man reclining on a rattan chair among a profusion of blossoms, wearing an ink-green robe embroidered with gold. A pretty maid was massaging his legs.

A sea of flowers in bloom.

Beigong Qiyi narrowed his eyes. Only one word came to him—outshining the flowers. So often are beauties compared to flowers, but how many truly surpass them? He stared, transfixed, at that vivid green amid the blossoms, certain he would never see a more beautiful sight. Yet… his gaze shifted to the maid massaging the man’s legs, and his eyes grew cold.

The maid, diligently working, suddenly felt a chill and shivered. She instinctively looked up and saw the young master beaming at them.

She felt even colder.

Beigong Juechen opened his eyes lazily, waved the maid away, and she quickly curtsied and withdrew. Juechen leaned back on the rattan chair, supporting his forehead with one hand, and raised an eyebrow at Beigong Qiyi.

Amid the riot of colors, the man’s collar was open, revealing a stretch of snow-white chest, fairer than the white magnolias beside him, while his black hair fell straight down, veiling that whiteness. Beigong Qiyi felt his throat go dry and swallowed unconsciously.

Half-closed eyes, Juechen smiled and asked, “What brings you here?” Beigong Qiyi kept staring at him, not looking away in the slightest. “What… kind of flower do you like?” he asked, his voice hoarse and low.

Juechen frowned slightly, opening his eyes a bit, puzzled. “Flowers?” The youth shifted his gaze to the white magnolia by the man’s side and nodded. “Yes, flowers.” Juechen massaged his temples thoughtfully. “Hmm… plum blossoms, I suppose.” By now, Beigong Qiyi had walked up beside him. The surrounding floral fragrance was strong, but couldn’t compare to the faint, cool scent on the man himself.

Plum blossoms? Blooming alone in the cold… just like you, Beigong Qiyi mused, murmuring, “The plum’s whiteness yields three parts to snow, but snow lacks the plum’s fragrance.” Yet you are whiter than snow and more fragrant than the plum...

Juechen closed his eyes and gave a few meaningless laughs. Beigong Qiyi gazed at the faint smile on his lips, unable to resist reaching out… Just before his hand touched the man’s lips, he paused. His long, dark eyes were as deep as ink. A pale pink petal fluttered down, landing on the man’s exposed chest—pure, and enchanting.

Beigong Qiyi drew a deep breath and, instead of touching him, gently plucked the petal from his chest and pulled the open collar closed.

Juechen’s long brows moved slightly; his thick lashes fluttered, but those emerald eyes never opened.

Amid the blossoms, fragrant and heady, the man reclined with eyes closed. The youth sat at his feet, gaze soft and gentle, watching him quietly. Now and then, petals of every hue spiraled down around them.

A peaceful world, a tranquil life.