Six years had passed since she married Mu Daoying.
The relationship between Liu Qiao’e and him had always been harmonious. Neither had returned to the Eastern Florescence Realm; instead, they stayed in the mortal world, living a carefree life of wandering the seas and clouds, stopping here and there like immortals.
In recent years, they had temporarily settled in Gusu to rest.
Liu Qiao’e’s soul was relatively fragile, so she stayed at home cultivating.
Mu Daoying found work in the city as a teacher, dispensing medicine and diagnosing illnesses on the side while teaching and nurturing students.
Qingming Festival came around again.
In previous years, every Qingming, she always returned to the thatched hut where she had lived with Meng Ci for a few days to pay her respects.
After Meng Ci died, she had buried his remains nearby in front of the hut, facing the green mountains and waters, the fields and paths. He would have liked it.
After marriage, she naturally continued the habit, and in the first five years, Mu Daoying never showed any objection.
Even before she set off each year, he would pack her luggage in advance.
After five years like this, Mu Daoying was a model husband without a single complaint. Liu Qiao’e, on the other hand, began sweating profusely, feeling terribly guilty.
With such a husband, what more could a wife ask for?
Qingming approached again.
That evening, Mu Daoying returned from school. Dressed in a robe of azure, covered in dust from the road, he wiped his hands and first asked if she was hungry. “Are you hungry? Shall I heat up a bowl of little glutinous rice balls for you? Didn’t you want to eat osmanthus cake a few days ago? I happened to see some dried osmanthus for sale today and bought some. I’ll make it for you later…”
Muttering on like that, he hurried to the kitchen and busied himself with clattering sounds.
Liu Qiao’e: “…” How was she supposed to bring it up?!
In short order, a bowl of red bean fermented glutinous rice balls was placed before her.
Liu Qiao’e didn’t touch it.
Mu Daoying: “Why aren’t you eating? Is it not to your taste?”
Liu Qiao’e felt so guilty she couldn’t lift her head. “No, it’s not that. Sigh…”
She sighed, not wanting to waste his kindness, and ate two.
After stewing for a good while, she finally said, “In a couple of days, it will be Qingming…”
No sooner had she spoken than she felt the man before her suddenly go still.
But the stillness came and went quickly, vanishing in an instant like her imagination.
In the blink of an eye, he resumed his gentle, water-like demeanor, any emotional fluctuations hidden beneath the surface, without the slightest oddity.
“Are you going to see Brother Meng?” Mu Daoying asked.
“Yes…”
Mu Daoying: “Of course, Qingming has come again. It’s my fault for being too busy and forgetting.”
“Alright, I understand. Don’t worry, I’ll pack your luggage tonight.” He murmured to himself.
“Mu Daoying.” Liu Qiao’e couldn’t help interrupting him.
Mu Daoying looked up.
Liu Qiao’e: “You… you don’t mind?”
Mu Daoying showed a hint of hesitation, paused, then shook his head.
“You and Brother Meng… your bond is deep and righteous, and the circumstances were different. How could I be so petty as to get jealous?”
In these years, Liu Qiao’e had tried her best to avoid mentioning Meng Ci in front of Mu Daoying.
Mu Daoying was even less likely to bring him up voluntarily. No matter how kind he was, he didn’t have a cuckold fetish, obsessing over his wife’s old flame.
Having gone through much, she now knew it had been a twist of fate, an unavoidable misunderstanding. As for Meng Ci’s death, Liu Qiao’e had gradually come to terms with it.
She no longer blamed Mu Daoying and instead grew concerned for the feelings of her upright husband.
Clinging to an old lover, going to pay respects to her white moonlight every year…
But asking her to let go of Meng Ci entirely was out of the question.
Liu Qiao’e’s mind was clear.
She had loved Mu Daoying in the past and loved him now. But she could never forget Meng Ci completely just for Mu Daoying.
Meng Ci still held an important place in her heart.
She wasn’t the heartless, ungrateful type. She couldn’t forget everything he had done for her or their bond just because her life with Mu Daoying was sweet and blissful.
Perhaps because she had become the Palace Lord of Joyous Union Palace early on and had many male favorites, she was open-minded about romance.
But the dead were dead, after all.
While cherishing his memory, she firmly maintained a clear boundary.
She would never indulge. She would never let the dead disrupt the living.
Since Mu Daoying had stated it this way, Liu Qiao’e had nothing more to say. It was an awkward matter to begin with.
After dinner, Liu Qiao’e meditated and cultivated as usual for a while.
Mu Daoying lit a lamp, sat under its glow, and packed her luggage.
Her mind wasn’t calm; she kept getting distracted. Raising her eyes, she could see the slender shadow reflected on the window.
A lock of black hair fell along his smooth cheek.
Stealing glances at him through the paper window, her heart softened. She nearly blurted out, “I won’t go.”
The principle she had always upheld wavered because of his silent devotion.
But only nearly.
In the next instant, the lamplight shifted to the dim visage of the departed.
Meng Ci’s departed soul clung to her, lost and forlorn: “Not even these few days out of the year?”
Both palms were flesh; Liu Qiao’e was caught in a dilemma.
Helpless, she simply closed her eyes, thought of nothing, and focused on meditating first.
When she emerged from her trance, the lamp was still lit, and the luggage sat neatly on the table. But Mu Daoying was gone.
Liu Qiao’e paused, then went to the inner room.
The inner room was dark, pitch black, with a figure lying on the bed facing away from her.
Mu Daoying lay with his back to her.
After packing for her and seeing her still meditating, he had gone to rest on his own.
“Ning Xia?” She touched his cool black hair and probed.
But Mu Daoying kept his eyes closed, saying nothing.
Even his breathing seemed silent.
His temperament was too reserved and gentle; any grievance he swallowed into his belly.
She couldn’t tell if he was really asleep or pretending.
–
The subtle coldness from yesterday seemed like mere illusion.
The next day, Mu Daoying rose early and prepared a table full of hearty breakfast, packing a large bundle of food and drink.
He just spoke very little.
Before she left, he handed her a music score and earnestly instructed, “This is something I obtained recently. Brother Meng should like it.”
His expression was normal, his voice mild; nothing seemed amiss, no sign of displeasure.
But after six years of marriage, how could she not notice?
“Ning Xia.” Liu Qiao’e couldn’t help interrupting him.
Mu Daoying paused and looked at her flushed face in surprise.
“How about… a hug?” She stammered, awkward and at a loss. “After all, I’m leaving, and we won’t see each other for several days…”
She wasn’t good at acting cute or expressing affection directly. Wanting to comfort him, she was clumsy with words.
Before she finished, her face burned red embarrassingly.
Mu Daoying was stunned for a moment, then showed a helpless expression and gently pulled her into his arms.
The subtle coldness that had lingered around him since yesterday melted away like spring breeze turning rain in an instant.
He breathed lightly against her ear: “Go early and come back soon.”
–
She missed Mu Daoying a little.
Halfway there, she began longing for his warm voice, his gentle fingers, the faint scent of white sandalwood.
She missed the meals he cooked, the soft bedding he prepared.
With his meticulous care, he had nearly turned her into a delicate lady who couldn’t do without his tending.
Passing a teahouse, Liu Qiao’e sat down and ordered a large bowl of coarse tea from the shopkeeper. She untied the luggage Mu Daoying had prepared for her.
Every year, he quietly tucked in some little surprises, small trinkets.
Unpacking the luggage he had prepared had become a kind of anticipation for her.
This year was no different.
In the bundle, wrapped in oiled paper, was a piece of osmanthus cake still warm to the touch.
A casual remark from a few days ago, and he remembered it until today.
Knowing she was going to see Meng Ci, he still got up early to mix dough and steam the cake for her. What time did he rise? The third watch?
He was probably at the school now.
Holding the osmanthus cake in her palm, neither too cold nor hot, its gentle warmth spread through her body, just like his unassuming, tender affection.
Staring at the osmanthus cake, Liu Qiao’e looked at it for a full half-stick of incense before unwrapping the paper and taking a bite.
Her face showed nothing unusual, but the scales in her heart had quietly tipped an inch toward Mu Daoying.
Maybe next year she should stay home with him?
Or invite him along? Better than him alone at home, feeling lonely and overthinking.
She stayed at Meng Ci’s grave for a full three days.
During those three days, she didn’t think of outside matters, devoting herself entirely to chatting with him. It was respect for him.
But on the fourth day, Mu Daoying’s forlorn appearance kept surfacing in her mind.
In truth, Mu Daoying’s act of forcing a smile and silently devoting himself had succeeded.
Thinking of the husband “guarding the cold kiln” at home, Liu Qiao’e suddenly felt an urgent desire to return.
She felt he was like a fox. How else could he grasp her heart so precisely?
Ancient sayings claimed that the beauties by a ruler’s side brought calamity to the nation and people; she had dismissed it before, but now it seemed there was some truth to it.
In just six years of marriage, he had made her restless, constantly thinking of him.
Who knew she would run into Qin Xiandu on the way back.
The youth paused, surprise on his face. “Oh, perfect. I was just on my way to see you.”
Liu Qiao’e wondered, “What are you doing here?”
Qin Xiandu dangled the wine bottle in his hand and grinned. “Passing through in search of immortals, thought I’d drop by to see Brother Meng.”
He glanced at her and realized. “It was Qingming a few days ago. No wonder.”
They had known each other for years; Qin Xiandu understood her no less than others.
He had a youthful face, older than them yet still looking like a red-lipped, white-toothed boy.
The youth smiled faintly. “Since we’ve run into each other like this, aren’t you going to invite me to your home as a guest?”
His personality was easygoing; Liu Qiao’e got along well with him and readily agreed.
Considering her recent resurrection left her spiritual energy weak, Qin Xiandu simply summoned a cloud and brought her straight back to Gusu.
“I’m back!” No sooner had she jumped off the cloud than Liu Qiao’e eagerly shouted into the house.
The youth knew she was returning today and had specially cleaned up. Wiping his hands, he came out with a smile. “Welcome ba—”
He paused upon seeing Qin Xiandu. “Senior Qin.”
“I’ve come to visit.” The youth shook the bottle in his hand with a laugh. “You won’t turn me away, will you?”
“How could I?” Mu Daoying recovered and said amiably, “Senior Qin, please.”
“You two chat first.” Mu Daoying recovered, glanced at Liu Qiao’e,
and said, “I’ll go buy some vegetables.”
With that, he took some money and went straight out the door.
With Qin Xiandu there, Liu Qiao’e couldn’t say any intimate words to him. She had a bellyful of things to tell him, but now she composed herself and focused on entertaining Qin Xiandu.
Qin Xiandu was great at conversation, talkative and affable. Before long, Liu Qiao’e’s attention was drawn to him, and they chatted animatedly until dusk without realizing.
When Mu Daoying returned with the vegetables, he occasionally came in to refill their tea, sat by her side to listen for a bit, but never interjected.
As night fell, he called them to eat. “The meal is ready. Come and eat.”
“Senior Qin has come from afar, and it’s been a while since you saw Lady E,” Mu Daoying invited proactively. “Why not stay the night at our humble abode?”
Qin Xiandu stared at him for several moments, making Mu Daoying cough lightly, feeling a bit uneasy.
The youth then laughed freely. “How could I disturb you newlyweds?”
Mu Daoying coughed harder, took a sip of tea, and barely swallowed.
“Are you alright?” Liu Qiao’e was completely baffled and hurried over to pat his back.
She had no idea what subtle jab they had exchanged to make him cough like this.
Mu Daoying caught his breath and smiled faintly, unable to resist pinching her palm in return. “I’m fine.”
After that, Mu Daoying spoke little and ate even less at the table.
He just kept holding her hand without letting go, their clasped palms hidden under his wide sleeve.
After Qingming, the days grew hotter one by one.
Liu Qiao’e sweated a bit in the heat and uncomfortably tugged.
Mu Daoying released her palm, but as her hand slipped out, he caught her wrist, his fingertip gently rubbing the inner side.
Firmly, without letting go even a little.
Liu Qiao’e: …Fine, wrist it is.
Qin Xiandu’s gaze fell, and he smiled again, draining his cup.
They all said Jade Sword True Heart was a gentleman of the sword, but now it seemed this gentleman was rather petty.
After a few rounds of drinks, with the moon high in the sky, Qin Xiandu stood up to take his leave.
Liu Qiao’e did not think much of it and tried to keep him there. “It’s so late. Why not just stay the night?”
Qin Xiandu said, “I cannot stay, I cannot stay. If I shamelessly lingered here any longer, would I not be troubling Fellow Daoist Mu again?”
Liu Qiao’e looked at Mu Daoying strangely.
Mu Daoying coughed once but did not refute it, of course, nor did he try to keep Qin Xiandu there.