Chapter Thirty-Three: Intoxication

Wind Qiuji lifted her head, watching as white snowflakes cascaded endlessly from a sky bright as day beneath the glow of lanterns, as if they would never cease. Under the gentle light cast by red lanterns, pairs of young lovers passed by, nestled close to each other. Wind Qiuji stared at their faces, overflowing with happiness, and a warm smile unconsciously curved her lips.

A sudden crack of fireworks split the air, stirring the crowd into jubilation. Wind Qiuji looked toward the direction of their cheers and saw, amidst booming explosions, a sky filled with dazzling fireworks in all colors. Brilliant bursts blossomed against the deep blue vault above, as if illuminating the entire universe.

They could finally be together.

Her smile spread, yet her eyes brimmed with tears. The world blurred into a haze of red before her eyes, her face beaded with droplets she could no longer distinguish as snowmelt or tears.

Ying Xuanyu stood alone amidst the vast crowd, the surging masses moving around him, yet his figure remained still. No wind stirred the sky; delicate snowflakes drifted down, settling upon his shoulders. He raised his head slightly, gazing at the woman upstairs, at the smile on her lips and the profound sorrow in her eyes.

Time slipped by.

A wave of indescribable sadness welled within him, a dull ache.

The first time he met Wind Qiuji, she struck him as adorable. Later, he learned she was Ling Zetian’s empress, but she was nothing like the empress he had imagined: neither stately nor versed in etiquette. Yet, unlike other noble ladies, she was candid and genuine, wearing her emotions openly, not shrouded in layers of calculation as those accustomed to hiding their intentions.

He felt then that such a woman did not belong in the palace. She should have been a free wild bird, soaring across vast skies, living in nature, not confined within the deep palace, embroiled in rivalry, learning to scheme and manipulate, becoming a jealous wife.

If Ling Zetian truly abandoned her, perhaps it would be for the best.

Snow began to fall heavier, the once light flakes now thick and swift, descending straight from the sky to cover everything.

The crowd dispersed, leaving only hurried vendors gathering their wares. The former bustle vanished like an illusion.

Wind Qiuji turned and saw that white figure on the street, amid the dispersing crowd, only he stood motionless like a statue, thick snow covering him, his dark eyes fixed on her through the swirling flurries.

A single glance across a thousand years—she recognized Ying Xuanyu, and her lips curved in a gentle arc.

Ying Xuanyu saw her enchanting smile and entered the tavern.

“Long time no see,” Wind Qiuji greeted him with her usual subtle smile as he approached.

“Yes,” Ying Xuanyu replied, returning her smile.

“Why are you standing out there? The snow is so heavy.” Wind Qiuji raised her hand, gently brushing the snow from his shoulders.

“I was silently witnessing your sorrow,” Ying Xuanyu sat across from her, gazing into her eyes, half-joking.

Wind Qiuji stiffened, her hand frozen midair, disbelief in her eyes. Suddenly, she lowered her hand, avoiding Shi Jueming’s gaze, changing the subject, “It’s been so long. Tonight, let’s drink until dawn.”

“Alright.” Fine wine deserves fine company. He had only wanted to wander the streets tonight, but unexpectedly met Wind Qiuji—perhaps it was fate, destiny.

“Waiter, bring wine!” Wind Qiuji smiled, her heart comforted by the thought that at least someone would accompany her in her drunkenness.

Inside the palace

The heavy snow did not dampen the revelry of the banquet; the intoxicating music still lingered over the palace. Within the grand hall, songs and dances flourished, everyone chatting merrily with a hint of drunkenness.

Ling Zetian’s face remained cold as frost. He had gone to Chaoyun Palace at dusk to find Wind Qiuji but found she was gone; he suddenly remembered she had returned home days ago.

Wind Qiuji—he shouldn’t have let her leave that day. She should have been present at today’s wedding ceremony. He had thought she would return, but she only sent a letter. When he opened it, it contained nothing but thanks for his care and wishes for his happiness. This woman truly didn’t know her place; he must bring her back and teach her a lesson.

A sharp crack of fireworks pulled Ling Zetian from his thoughts. Through the half-eaten six-layer cake before him, his gaze fell upon the fireworks blooming in the night sky. For a long while, he pondered, looking at the two carved dragon-and-phoenix rings in his hand. These were all prepared by her for his wedding.

Of course, Wind Qiuji had used his money for the gifts, but Ling Zetian never cared about such things.

Suddenly, a nameless fury rose in his heart. Wind Qiuji was truly unrestrained, leaving everything behind as she pleased. Ling Zetian clenched the two rings, turned, and left the banquet.

Ling Zexin, who was drinking with guests, saw his brother’s departing figure and sighed. Compared to Qin Ruyan, he preferred Wind Qiuji as his sister-in-law. He wondered if there would ever be another chance to see her again.

From ancient times, love has left only regrets. He found his royal brother truly vexing; if it were him, he would cherish all beauties, never causing such trouble. Since they were all lovely, why not embrace them all? Moreover, as emperor, his brother should have taken more wives to bear more princes and princesses.

Ling Zetian stepped through thick snow toward his chambers. As he entered, he saw Qin Ruyan sitting in the long corridor, gazing absentmindedly at the falling snow.

She wore a red bridal gown with delicate makeup, looking as stunning as a fairy.

Ling Zetian frowned slightly, walked over, and took her shoulder. “It’s so cold—why sit outside?”

“You’re back?” Qin Ruyan turned excitedly, holding his hand. “It’s the first snow of winter—so beautiful.”

“Do you like it?” Ling Zetian held her cold hand tightly and sat beside her.

A burst of fireworks shot into the sky.

“Wow, look, look!” Qin Ruyan pointed at the fireworks like a child, exclaiming, “So beautiful!”

The dazzling colors reflected in Ling Zetian’s eyes, and Wind Qiuji’s face suddenly appeared in his mind.

“I truly feel so happy,” Qin Ruyan murmured, nestled in his arms, gazing at the vibrant sky.

Ling Zetian felt as though something inside him had shattered.

It was Wind Qiuji’s heart.

“Do you know?” Wind Qiuji, her eyes blurred by drink, looked out at the snow. “Because I grew up in the south, in that subtropical climate, I saw snow only once as a child, when I went to Beijing with my parents in winter. I never thought I’d see it again here tonight…”

The memories long buried in her heart finally erupted. Wind Qiuji was completely immersed in her recollections now—a place far from the Ling dynasty, without emperors or empresses, without concubines, and no need for such sorrow.

Ying Xuanyu sat quietly across from her, listening to words he could not understand.

“Come… let’s drink…” Wind Qiuji raised the wine jar and drank it all in one gulp. “Cough… cough…” The fiery liquor burned her throat, making her eyes water.

Ying Xuanyu saw her and felt a pang of sympathy. He too raised his wine, but the strongest spirits tasted like water to him, bland and empty.

He watched Wind Qiuji silently, never saying a word.

“Did you know? I used to laugh at friends who drowned their heartbreak in bars, thinking they were foolish. Today I realize wine truly is wonderful…” Wind Qiuji shook the jar. “Huh? It’s empty…” She grabbed another jar, pulled the stopper, and drank deeply.

“Do you know? Back in the palace, I really missed the computers and TVs of the twenty-first century, missed singing karaoke and shopping with friends. Today, I am finally free… so happy! I want to sing a song…” With that, Wind Qiuji clambered onto a stool, cheering loudly, drawing curious glances from the few remaining patrons.

Ying Xuanyu saw her trying to climb onto the table and quickly helped her sit down. “Don’t make trouble.”

“I’m not making trouble… I’m not… Do you know? I really want to go home…” She suddenly lay across the table, her voice full of sorrow.

Her shoulders trembled slightly—Ying Xuanyu knew she was crying.

He didn’t understand anything she said, only that his heart felt stifled.

So stifled.

He emptied the rest of his wine, placed a silver ingot on the table. “Waiter, settle the bill.” Then he stood, took Wind Qiuji into his arms, and slowly descended the stairs.

Night had deepened, the street almost deserted.

He carried Wind Qiuji alone through the snow, leaving a trail of deep footprints behind.

The last time he saw her, she had been so happy, and now, just a dozen days later…

She had been Ling Zetian’s empress barely half a year—enough time to fall in love.

Ying Xuanyu felt his heart in utter turmoil.

He wondered, if Wind Qiuji had met him first, would he have been the one she loved?

She hadn’t said it, but he understood why she was so sorrowful tonight. How many people are tormented by love, how many hearts are broken? For Wind Qiuji’s unrequited devotion, it was painful and exhausting. Even though he wished to comfort her, he knew not how.

On her face and body, sparkling snowflakes settled; feeling cold, Wind Qiuji instinctively buried her face in Ying Xuanyu’s embrace, murmuring, “So warm…”

Ying Xuanyu paused at her whisper, lowered his head to gaze at the sleeping woman in his arms, his voice full of tenderness, “Forget him…”