Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Murong Xiyan? Looking at the lake, the wind suddenly stirred, and Light and Shadow swayed. Hibiscus couldn't help but feel a bad premonition. The faint silhouette in the water rippled in the center, its complexion excessively pale. Upon seeing Hibiscus, it smiled lightly, a smile that was both pale and beautiful. What was happening? Hibiscus was greatly alarmed, recalling that three days ago, he had parted with her at the Art Institute, where she smiled and walked away under the sunset.
The soul of Murong Xiyan floated gently, lingering by the river, "Take me to find him."
"What should I do?" A sorrowful emotion revealed itself on Hibiscus's handsome face. How could he not be worried? Tomorrow was the wedding between Murong and Gusu. Gusu was currently waiting at the Art Institute, waiting for Murong to come and marry him.
"Let me borrow your body; I cannot leave this river." At this moment of despair, she should have perished, yet for some reason, her spirit had not dissipated.
"Possessed?" A chill ran down Hibiscus's spine; he had not yet forgotten the ghostly events at Mountain Pavilion, and now he was about to experience it firsthand.
Hibiscus nodded and walked towards the riverbank.
"Murong Xiyan, don't be sad; in the next life, you can still be with Gusu." Hibiscus stood by the riverbank, looking at the pale Murong Xiyan.
"Hibiscus, our Murong people die and their forms perish, their souls return to heaven and earth. I have never heard of any next life." Murong Xiyan extended her hand, waiting for Hibiscus.
Hibiscus reached out his hand, grasping Murong Xiyan's hands. "Then what are you now?"
"I don't know either; perhaps my soul and heart have not faded yet. Once my soul and heart dim, I will disappear." Murong Xiyan sighed and finally looked towards the surface of the river, "My body lies at the bottom of this Moat. Also, there are Gusu Yue Rong's ribs."
"Let's go; your yang energy is too strong. I can't hold on much longer; hurry and take me to find him."
Can't hold on—does that mean she will disappear?
"Hey! How could you be like this? It's so late and you're not back yet. Do you know how dangerous it is for a man to be out alone?" From a distance, Hibiscus could see the bright yellow lights in front of the Art Institute, and the sound of Yue Rong's scolding carried on the wind. It turned out that after watering the flowers, Yue Rong had gone out several times, still not seeing Hibiscus return, so she took a lamp and went outside.
Hibiscus felt a lump in his throat but couldn't say a word. His footsteps grew heavier; if only this road could stretch a little longer, he would be willing to walk forever.
"Hey! Why are you walking so slowly?" Yue Rong had approached Hibiscus. "What scent is that on you? It feels so familiar."
Hibiscus opened his mouth slightly but couldn't utter a single word. "Quickly tell me, why do you smell like my Wife? How dare you!" Yue Rong glared at Hibiscus, and seeing his bewildered expression, she sighed, "Ah! Finally, I can see my Wife tomorrow!"
"Let's go home," Yue Rong said, holding the bright yellow oil lamp as she walked ahead. The shadows danced in the wind, accompanied by scattered vows. Hibiscus quietly followed Gusu, only sighing inwardly.
At that moment, Murong Xiyan's laughter echoed in his heart, "Yue Rong is still so amusing."
I am an accidental drop of ink that fell into the world,
suitable to be painted as a distant scene during the Grain Rain season,
following a beam of moonlight descending,
nestling beside an orange blossom in the mountains,
at the moment you turn around,
becoming a hint of your smile while picking flowers.
I am the flowing water that hasn't been plucked by your fingertips for a long time,
I am the phoenix hairpin that hasn't adorned your hair for ages,
I am the address in the love letter you never sent,
I am the character that quietly slipped out of fate's book.
I am an accidental drop of ink that fell into the world,
suitable to be painted as the last passenger after a thousand sails have passed,
following your dancing steps,
anchoring in your courtyard where you swing.
On a snowy night in the city,
becoming a silent silhouette of yours.
I am the flowing water that hasn't been plucked by your fingertips for a long time,
I am the phoenix hairpin that hasn't adorned your hair for ages,
I am the address in the love letter you never sent,
I am the character that quietly slipped out of fate's book.
I sing along with spiritual resonance,
the tone of this drop of ink,
exhausting all rhythms beyond reincarnation.
I am your startled dream during your vibrant garden strolls,
I am the flames on stage during your rise and fall in politics,
I am the wrinkles on your sleeve when you drink it all down.
I am the paths that suddenly appear at the ends of the earth.
I am the flowing water that hasn't been plucked by your fingertips for a long time,
I am the phoenix hairpin that hasn't adorned your hair for ages,
I am the address in the love letter you never sent,
I am the character that quietly slipped out of fate's book.
I am an accidental drop of ink that fell into the world.
Evening Primrose, pale white, blooms at dusk and withers by dawn, quietly holding its beauty before it suddenly falls apart, symbolizing a fragile woman whose fragrance fades away unexpectedly.
"Murong Xiyan, I am back. Do you see how haggard I have become?" Yue Rong put down the oil lamp and rushed to the window where the Evening Primrose was.
Hibiscus shook his head and turned to leave, for Murong Xiyan's soul had already left his body, floating between the heart of the Evening Primrose. The ethereal Murong Xiyan floated within the flower's heart, radiating a moonlit glow.
She spoke softly, lowered her gaze, smiled lightly, still carrying a hint of guilt!
"Yue Rong."
"Wife? Is this a dream?" Yue Rong cradled the delicate Evening Primrose.
"This is not a dream, Yue Rong. In this life, I will not change; alas, our feelings are deep but our fate is shallow."
A single tear fell into the heart of the flower.
This time, there was no decree of immunity to save her life.
Hibiscus waited in the room, and sure enough, at the third watch of the night, Gusu arrived outside the door.
"Do you know who harmed your Wife?" The drifting moonlight spilled over Yue Rong, making him appear cold and distant.
Hibiscus shook his head in ignorance. Under the soft moonlight, Yue Rong smiled brightly, "As for revenge, ten years is not too late."
"Hey, this is a Mask, very beautiful. I am giving it to you. I cannot treat your face anymore; I sprinkled Evening Primrose powder on the Mask. Combined with my healing technique, it should improve in some time. Goodbye." Gusu stood outside the door, spoke a long string of words, then turned away into the night. Hibiscus grasped Yue Rong's slightly trembling shoulder and said, "Let me see you off."
The night was heavy with dew, and the wind was bleak.
"You can definitely save her."
"No matter what, I will stay by Wife's side. It's just a bit regrettable that I couldn't completely heal your face." As Murong's man, he naturally valued appearance greatly.
In these days, the scars on Hibiscus's face were concealed by the illusions of Gusu's healing techniques. Once away from Gusu's treatment, her true appearance would be revealed. "Thank you, Gusu, perhaps we will meet again someday."
"You saved my life, yet I can only send you on your way." Hibiscus stood by the riverbank, watching Yue Rong sail away. She took out the Jade Flute and played a gentle tune.
The death of Murong Xiyan was due to her closeness with Hibiscus. Ling Bo was jealous and invited her to the palace under the pretense of a heart-to-heart talk, where she was given poisoned wine and later thrown into the river. She could only appear when the Evening Primrose bloomed. Yue Rong, filled with longing, waited for Murong to come for her, but what she received was the news of Murong Xiyan's death and the soul of Murong Xiyan that was about to disperse with the wind. Yue Rong gifted a delicate Mask to Hibiscus, then vanished along with the Evening Primrose and the soul of Murong Xiyan.
(The story of Murong and Gusu will be set aside for now.)
A weak call for subscriptions, for collections, for support!
Comment 0 Comment Count