Rising Phoenix

Silence reigned.

Water dripped down like the sands of an hourglass running out the time of the tranquil night.

Ning Yi stared blindly at Feng Zhiwei; his blurred, grey view could make out nothing, but he could imagine her face — the blush fading away, the cold determination between her dark brows, an expression like the one she wore when they first met last winter, by the icy lake of Qiu Mansion as she stepped down on grasping fingers.

Calm, determined, and hints of hidden roguishness.

Sometimes even when he knew he could not force a matter and understood that force would get him nowhere, he still moved forward. He did not even understand it himself, but after he had met her and gotten to know her, his plans went awry and he lost control of his heart.

That rainy night in the temple when she had laid so softly and tenderly in his arms was a day Ning Yi would never forget, a moment when they were side by side without distance; but as soon as they left the mountain she had instantly returned to her resentful respect and cautious distance, and all he wanted was the Feng Zhiwei he had embraced in that temple.

He did not want to push her and conquer her; he just wanted her to realize the truth of her emotions. He wanted to tear away her constant mask and let her see her true heart for once.

Ning Yi rubbed his face — but in the end, she was still the same woman, so ruthless to herself, even when he had already changed.

The sword hovered calmly between them, cold like the water in the tub.

Finally, a small, feminine sneeze broke the silence, and Feng Zhiwei respectfully offered: “Your Highness, be careful of catching cold. May I help you out?”

Ning Yi looked down, his cold, sharp gaze already back on his face. He pushed her hand aside and stepped out of the tub, ignoring the faint, panicked gasp behind him as Feng Zhiwei clambered out as well.

Clothes rustled above him and a soft sleeping gown was draped over him as the woman beside him calmly spoke: “I’ll help you dress.”

“No need.” Ning Yi replied, pushing her away and crossing over to his bed. Without turning his head, he pulled down the bed’s curtains.

“You’ve successfully threatened me.” He remarked from behind the curtains, his tone quiet and cool.

“But only because I care for you.” ¹

Ning Yi fell silent after that. Feng Zhiwei stood there by the tub for a long moment before quietly taking the tub and leaving.

Her internal injuries had not fully healed so it was with some difficulty that she shifted the basin, but as soon as she opened the door a pair of hands reached in and helped her.

Pushing the complicated emotions aside, she smiled and said: “Thank you.”

Young Master Gu lay on the stairs outside the room and casually tossed the tub aside. The basin of water flew into the distance, landing soundlessly as Gu Nanyi lay silent.

To her surprise, he was neither eating walnuts nor sleeping in bed or perched somewhere up above, but instead he was sleeping here in front of the hated Ning Yi’s door.

Feng Zhiwei glanced backwards and her face blushed — had he been here the whole time? Had… had he heard everything?

She was still trying to find the right way to ask when Gu Nanyi suddenly said: “Sorry.”

Feng Zhiwei was dazed for a long moment before she finally realized what he had said.

Did he know how to express sorrow? She had assumed he did not know how to use this phrase.

When she recovered from her daze she smiled and suddenly felt her heart brighten, and she took his sleeve and said: “Don’t sleep in front of other people’s doors. Go back to your own room, and don’t apologize when it isn’t your fault.”

Gu Nanyi let her drag him away from Ning Yi’s door, but he stubbornly repeated: “I’m sorry.”

“Alright alright, you’re sorry, you’re sorry.” Feng Zhiwei said agreeably. With his one track mind, if she did not accept his words he would just keep repeating it. As they moved, Gu Nanyi pointed to her and then to the tub before saying: “Don’t wash others.” ¹

Feng Zhiwei paused at the sudden words and her face blushed.

Gu Nanyi was not finished and pulled her to Helian Zheng’s door before saying: “Him too.”

Feng Zhiwei did not know whether to laugh or cry, and she was afraid that Young Master Gu would take her to every room one by one and shame her to her next life, so she cut him off and dragged him to a small outdoor garden, agreeing with him: “I won’t. No washing. Let’s take a walk.”

The sky was clear on that fine autumn night; crickets sang and fragrant flowers blooms. Feng Zhiwei walked for a bit before finding a clean meadow to sit in, smiling up at Gu Nanyi as she patted the ground beside her.

She looked up mischievously, knowing that the perennially distant Young Master Gu would never agree to sit beside her.

But then Gu Nanyi looked down and actually sat, and though there was a person sized gap between them, it was enough to send into a wide eyed Feng Zhiwei gape.

Tonight, Young Master Gu was acting strange…

She attentively plucked a blade of sweet grass and wiped it clean before Young Master Gu accepted the offering and stuck it in his mouth.

The moon was beautiful and the stars bright, and the passing wind gently lifted his veil, revealing smooth red lips and a snowy chin.

With a blade of green grass between his fingers, his hand was even more lustrous and white.

When he tilted his head as he focused on the sweet grass, he seemed an otherworldly pure and naive, and beside him all mortals were covered in dust.

In that moment, Feng Zhiwei felt as if she were spoiling the scene, sitting her dark and shadowed heart beside the bright and innocent Young Master Gu. Quietly, she shifted away.

But Young Master Gu immediately shifted to follow her.

Feng Zhiwei did not know whether to laugh or cry, so she stopped moving. Young Master Gu was acting so adorable tonight, and it seemed like a good time to chat.

After spending so much time with him at her side, she knew of his eccentricities. He never answered questions, and she never pressed him — the only time she had asked for answers, she had been stunned by his powerful reply: “I am yours.”

Tonight, with such a beautiful moon overhead and such fragrant flowers around them, with the grass sweet and the Young Master so well-behaved, hope that there would be no more thunderous answers.

 “Why did you get lost?” She asked, beginning simply.

The simple question seemed to stump Young Master Gu and he stopped biting the sweet grass. He lifted his head and thought carefully before finally replying:

“Couldn’t remember.”

Couldn’t remember? Then how do you remember Kung Fu?

“Roads are all the same.” Young Master Gu explained slowly. “Roads are messy, faces are broken, cloth is coarse, and sounds are noisy.”

Feng Zhiwei stared at him in astonishment — was he describing his world?

Was it his first time explaining himself? All roads are messily contorted and he cannot distinguish them; all faces are a shattered mess and he needs to slowly piece them together to see them in full; no matter how fine the cloth, it would feel coarse against his skin; and when people talked around him, it was torture to his ears.