Chapter 105: Ji Ruxue

“At first, I didn’t understand either. I thought that choosing to hurt oneself rather than others was an act of kindness. But as I grew older and drank more, I became clearer-headed. Matters of the heart—there are two kinds of situations, but neither sounds pleasant when spoken aloud.” His voice continued steadily as Han Tanyi’s footsteps moved slowly forward, as if to affirm his resolve. Yet his pace noticeably slowed; the old man’s words had drawn out for some time, but Han Tanyi had only moved a few meters—hardly different from standing still. Clearly, the conversation was directed at him, which naturally stirred doubts within the young man’s heart.

“Old sir, please explain these two kinds of situations. The more I think about it, the less I understand. My feelings are a bit muddled—perhaps I’m drunk and confused!”

Performers of double acts must grasp the key points. Whether the drunkard or the shopkeeper Dong, both were masters of the craft. Their exchange flowed freely, without a hint of hesitation, clearly having read Han Tanyi’s thoughts. Just as expected, once the old man finished speaking, the drunkard immediately followed up: “The first kind is when the other party doesn’t care. You hand over the sword’s hilt, and if the blade strikes, it’s straightforward and decisive. If you get hurt—or even lose your life—the pain is yours alone. Others just think you’re a fool and watch on with amusement. This kind, that’s foolishness. The second kind is when the other party cares. If you extend the sword’s hilt and they take it—even if they can’t strike—and if they do, it hurts the heart. Both parties suffer wounds, and the onlookers laugh, while you yourself feel the deepest pain. That too is foolishness.”

“But sometimes, it’s beyond one’s control. You have to act that way. Old sir, do you have a better solution?” The drunkard’s tone was urgent, as if this answer meant everything to him. Of course, his reaction merely echoed Han Tanyi’s own thoughts—or perhaps he, too, was caught in such bewildering affairs. The old man did not rush to reply. The sound of him swallowing was clear; evidently, he took a sip of wine to moisten his parched throat, buying time to let his thoughts ferment. Emotions that rush too quickly are rarely good; they must be given space to mature. But not too long, lest their potency fade. Others might struggle to find this balance, but the old man seemed to do so effortlessly.

After the wine settled, he cleared his throat lightly, as if to draw back the listener’s attention, then said, “Since a sword is meant to wound, then don’t pick it up—just set it aside. In this, Blacksmith Lao is skilled. Look at him: he leaves the sword wherever you put it and walks away unharmed. But you, drunkard, are unlucky. The sword is in your hand, so the injury is yours. Of course, a tangible sword only harms the body. Some swords, however, are invisible—and those wound the heart.”

“Enough!” Han Tanyi suddenly interrupted. Everyone has limits to their patience, and he was no exception. The old man fell silent, not out of fear—at his age and with his worldly wisdom, few could intimidate him—but the moment had shifted. The drunkard seized the long sword and strode swiftly outside. In an instant, he appeared before Han Tanyi, wordless, extending the blade. Han Tanyi did not hesitate; he took it, and soon the figure vanished from sight, leaving only the drunkard staring into the darkness. After a long pause, he asked, “Was what I did right or wrong?”

“Right or wrong—no one can see it clearly. If you believe it’s right, then it is. Why care what others think? Come, today this old man’s mind is a bit muddled too. Let’s share a good drink and get thoroughly drunk. How about that?” The old man rose slowly from the corner. Though aged, his eyes sparkled with a keen light. The northerners were typically taller than those from the central plains, so when standing one behind the other, there was a clear difference. The drunkard did not look back, still watching the direction Han Tanyi had disappeared toward, as if pondering the old man’s words. After a moment, he muttered in response, “Drinking’s fine, but I’m broke, you know? If this is about me footing the bill, forget it!”

“Why speak so? Drinking is meant to be carefree, but you make it sound so mundane. Come in—today this old man is treating!” The old man’s gaze lingered on the direction the youth had vanished, and though answering the drunkard, his expression grew solemn, as if reflecting on his own words. Truths of the world are often simple to recall but hard to live by. Yet that’s no great matter. To avoid such thoughts is often the best choice. Perhaps drinking is the most effective way to do so.

The shadow arrived swiftly, emerging from around the corner just as Shui Linglong’s eyes caught sight. Though the night was dark and the figure indistinct, she knew exactly who it was. A surge of joy welled within her heart. In her eyes, this moment was inevitable, yet if it hadn’t come, she could not have let go. A faint smile involuntarily appeared on her face as she gazed out the window, watching the shadow grow clearer. Under the faint light, she could barely make out the handsome features. Three years had passed—enough time to mature a soul but not to drastically change a face. The resolute expression confirmed the boy she met long ago had become a man. Indeed, heartbreak is the swiftest teacher. Was she not once the same, sixteen years ago?

“How did you know the drunkard would know where he was?” Shui Linglong asked, avoiding the use of Han Tanyi’s name. The pronoun ‘he’ sufficed to convey all.

The window faced the rear of the Tianxiang Pavilion, and to enter from the door required a long detour. Though Shui Linglong watched the figure’s movement outside the window until it disappeared, knowing he was heading toward the pavilion, a strange sense of loss unexpectedly arose within her. Still, it did not erase the smile on her face. She turned and asked with some puzzlement.

The usually quiet Qiu Shisanniang, sipping her wine in self-entertainment, was caught off guard by the question. Her hand paused, adjusting her grip on the cup before responding with a smile that eased her troubled thoughts. “It’s simple. Do you remember the scene? I only told the drunkard we were looking for a certain swordsman from the central plains, but he never asked who. He agreed immediately and left in a hurry. That means he knew someone fit the description and held that person in some regard. That small gesture convinced me of my suspicion. From that, I was sure he would go straight to find him.”

“Shisanniang, I never expected your keen nature to remain unchanged after all these years away from the Blue Lotus Sect. Then again, if you weren’t so sharp, how could you have been entrusted with such treasures?” Shui Linglong’s smile deepened. Flaws like the drunkard’s were easy to spot—perhaps only because her thoughts had been so focused elsewhere. She moved lightly toward the door and, upon reaching it, turned with seriousness.

“By all rules, those who join the Blue Lotus Sect belong to it for life. There is no chance to leave. Your fleeing from the Three Wolves Sect is a capital offense. Even if I don’t punish you, the master certainly will not let you go easily. I came this time to bring you back. If you cooperate, I won’t make things difficult. If not…” She hesitated briefly, then continued, “But today, since you’ve done me a great favor, I will repay you. You are Qiu Shisanniang. The former Ji Ruxue was struck down by Shui Linglong for betraying the Blue Lotus Sect. You can never return to the central plains. Ji Ruxue no longer exists in this world. Do you understand?”