Jinyi Spring

Chapter 225 Meeting in the Cave

The double adjusted his straw hat and stepped out of the pile of rocks. Two bodyguards stopped at the foot of the hillside, seemingly tired, and looked back down the mountain. The people following them hadn't come up yet. They were probably afraid of getting too close and being discovered.

The stunt double was Song Xian. He practiced for many days to imitate Ming Changqing's walking posture.

Ming Changqing slipped into the depths of the jumbled rocks. There was a rock about half a person's height and some weeds. He bent down, gripped the edge of the rock, and moved it with all his might, revealing a cave entrance just big enough for one person to crawl into. The soil at the entrance still smelled of freshly turned soil, and the cave was dark and gloomy.

Without hesitation, he bent down and crawled inside.

Almost simultaneously, a bird suddenly descended from the sky and flew into the burrow with him.

Ming Changqing knew without even looking that it was Ah Xuan.

He ignored it, turned around and dragged the large rock back to block the cave entrance. The two figures, one big and one small, were quickly swallowed by the darkness.

The three people outside the cave continued climbing. When they reached a higher point, several old elm trees stood sparsely, their branches bare, like hands reaching towards the sky, swaying gently in the wind.

Looking down from here, the entire reed marshland is spread out before your eyes—the reeds are withered and yellow, bent over by the wind, and gleam with a silvery-gray light under the winter sun.

As far as the eye can see, Baima Village is faintly visible, where a huge crowd has gathered at the village entrance. The sound of gongs and drums can still be faintly heard from this distance. The villagers are welcoming Princess Yong'an back for her "family visit".

The three of them will stand on the mountaintop for two hours, waiting for Ming Changqing to return from the tunnel at the other end, and then they will switch back to their original identities.

The wind blew from the swaying boat, carrying a chill like ice crystals, which crept into the collar, making people shrink their necks in fear.

Inside the cave, Ming Changqing pulled a small torch from his waist and lit it. The orange glow danced in the low earthen cave, illuminating the path beneath his feet and Ah Xuan on his shoulder.

Ming Shanyue hunched over and hurried forward along the narrow tunnel, eventually almost jogging, his boots making rapid, muffled thuds as they stepped on the soft, wet earth.

About fifteen minutes later, the light ahead grew brighter. Ming Changqing's heart pounded like a drum, and she quickened her pace.

Finally, a half-open wooden door appeared before him. He stood outside the door, his chest heaving, but suddenly stopped in his tracks—a feeling of trepidation arises as he approaches home.

He had never hesitated when facing thousands of troops, but now, a thin door panel made him extremely nervous.

After calming himself down, he finally reached out and pushed open the door.

The meditation room, about ten feet square, was furnished so simply it was almost shabby. There was an earthen bed, a wooden table, four stools, and a cabinet. The dim candlelight flickered gently, casting a warm glow on everything.

A woman stood by the table, staring blankly at him.

She was extremely thin. The blue jacket hung loosely on her body, like it was on a hanger. Her cheekbones were high and prominent, her cheeks were deeply sunken, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes were as clear as if carved by a knife and axe. She wore a strangely styled hat on her head, and a few inches of gray stubble peeked out from her temples.

Despite having already heard that she had lost a lot of weight and her appearance had changed drastically, Ming Changqing's eyes still reddened.

He recalled Wan'er from twenty years ago—her eyes were as bright as a stream bathed in moonlight, her face as smooth as a ripe peach, and when she smiled, all the flowers in the courtyard paled in comparison.

The person before me was withered, aged, and weathered, a completely different person from the one I remembered.

But he knew that she was Wan'er.

His heart felt like it had been squeezed, the pain making it hard to breathe. Twenty years of longing, twenty years of resentment, twenty years of "what ifs"—all of it was stuck in his throat, turning into hot tears welling up in his eyes.

He hated that arrogant man to the core.

They snatched her away from me, but they didn't treat her well! They tormented her like this, turning her into a dying lamp that was about to burn out!

He opened his mouth, his lips trembling. The "Wan'er" he had called out in his heart for twenty years and in his dreams countless times was now stuck in his throat, and he couldn't utter a sound. Chen Qingrui was also looking at him.

As time went by, her youthful beauty faded, and she was no longer the bright young girl she once was. She had aged so much that even she herself could not bear to look at herself.

And him? He was still tall and handsome, with a straight back and elegant demeanor, only his temples had turned a little gray.

As she looked at him, she suddenly felt like she was standing next to him, like an elder to him.

She forcefully suppressed the tenderness in her gaze, slowly concealing the light within her eyes. That light was the joy of first sight, the embers in her heart, a thought that had long since died but was rekindled the moment he pushed open the door—an unwanted thought.

She was no longer good enough for him.

These past few days, she's imagined their reunion a thousand times. Every time, the ending is the same—their fate and story ended twenty years ago.

She couldn't be a burden to him, she couldn't be so selfish. He had his own life, his family, and his future. And she, someone whose identity, once exposed, would bring utter ruin to many, why should he have to sacrifice anything for her?

He doesn't owe her anything. She owes him.

So Chen Qingrui withdrew her gaze completely, lowered her eyelashes, and spoke in a voice as calm as a stagnant pool.

"Lord Ming, you've arrived. Please have a seat."

She pointed to the stool.

Another voice suddenly rang out, "Little Aunt, Amitabha."

Ming Changqing automatically ignored Ah Xuan's voice.

That cry of "Lord Ming" was like a dull knife cutting into his heart.

His nose stung with tears, and he couldn't help but softly call out, "Wan'er!"

He strode forward and stood in front of her.

Chen Qingrui took a step back, reached out and took the prayer beads off her left wrist, slowly turning them. Her hand was so thin that the veins bulged, like an old woman's hand, and it trembled slightly in the candlelight.

She felt ashamed of her appearance and didn't want him to see her, so she subconsciously pulled her hands into her sleeves. But then she felt that was too deliberate, so she had to stick them out again and continue turning the prayer beads.

She shook her head and said softly, "Xiao Wan is dead. Look at me, so thin, so ugly, so old. I've been married, had two children, and been a nun... My surname is Chen, and my name is Qingrui. You can call me Chen Shi."

She didn't say "not good enough," but every word she uttered implied that she wasn't good enough.

She dared not look into his eyes; they were too warm, like the spring sun. She feared that the dam she had painstakingly built would melt away little by little in his gaze.

The rosary beads spun faster and faster between her fingers, just like her heartbeat at that moment.

Ming Changqing looked at the hands that once played the piano with flowing grace, but were now withered and thin, and her eyes welled up with tears.

He wanted to hold her hand and tell her: No matter what you become, you will always be the most beautiful in my heart.

But he was afraid of scaring her, afraid that she would run away even further.

He could only stand there, swallowing back the surging words, and softly called out, "Wan'er..." (End of Chapter)