Chapter Sixty-Five: A Conversation Between Two Women

Seeing that Qin Ruyan remained silent, Feng Qiuji suddenly sensed that something was amiss with the atmosphere and fell quiet as well.

The cabin was instantly enveloped in silence, broken only by the sharp, jarring sound of waves lapping against the hull.

Time slipped by unnoticed, and darkness soon descended. After supper, the boatman and his servant went to sleep, paying no heed to Ling Zetiang and the others. Feng Qiuji’s stomach had long since begun to rumble with hunger, but there was nothing she could do about it now; eating was out of the question.

The moon rose, casting its cold radiance generously through the open cabin window. Outside, the sea surged and churned, lending the night an air of melancholy poetry.

Drowsy and half-aware, Qin Ruyan and Feng Qiuji both drifted into sleep. The boat was quiet now, deep in the hush of night.

Ling Zetiang glanced around to ensure everyone was asleep, then drew a short dagger from his sleeve and began the intricate task of cutting himself free. In truth, his acupoints had not been struck during the day. When Feng Qiuji was first captured, he had already surmised their captors’ intentions and quietly circulated his inner energy. So, when the boatman attacked, Ling Zetiang had already dispersed the force with his own strength. But with Feng Qiuji in their hands, he had no choice but to submit for the time being.

In less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, he had freed himself from his bonds. He slipped quietly through the cabin, scouted the situation, then swiftly entered the compartments where, with silent efficiency, he dispatched both the boatman and his servant, casting their bodies into the sea.

He then began searching for Arno. But after searching the entire vessel, his heart sank—Arno was nowhere to be found.

Feng Qiuji awoke to a sudden bright light before her eyes. She opened them to see a candle burning on the table in the cabin, and there sat Ling Zetiang.

“Huh?” Feng Qiuji stared in astonishment. “How did you get free?”

Ling Zetiang glanced at her coolly and said, “Arno isn’t on this boat.”

“What?” Feng Qiuji was even more surprised. “Then why did you board this boat in the first place?”

“I thought the boatman was suspicious, but I’ve just searched every corner—Arno isn’t here.”

“What? Then why have we been captured and brought aboard, drifting who knows where?” Feng Qiuji gazed out at the endless sea, where thick fog swirled above the waves, obscuring any sign of land. They had no sense of direction and no idea where to go. What if they really were doomed to drift on the sea forever?

“It’s winter now. If we go out and check the wind, we should be able to find our bearings,” Qin Ruyan interjected, having awoken at some point.

Ling Zetiang rose and untied the ropes binding the two women. “You must be hungry. For now, let’s find something to eat.”

At the mention of food, Feng Qiuji’s spirits lifted instantly. She hurried to the side cabin, where she found a good supply of vegetables, fruits, and fresh fish. The boat had been meant to carry other passengers, so there was plenty of food and drinking water aboard—they need not fear starving at sea.

Feng Qiuji gazed longingly at the provisions, wishing she could turn them instantly into a meal. But the one who could cook was nowhere to be found.

“Why don’t you cook?” Ling Zetiang, guessing her thoughts, issued the command.

“Me? I really can’t cook. Are you sure you want me to try?”

Ling Zetiang thought for a moment, then decided against it. He rolled up his sleeves, resolving to do it himself.

“You’re going to cook?” Feng Qiuji watched in amazement as he moved to the table, picked up some greens, and started washing them. She had always believed that someone like Ling Zetiang—a prince, pampered from birth—could never know how to cook. The sight surprised her greatly.

Seeing he had things well in hand, Feng Qiuji was inclined to stay and help, even if only as an extra pair of hands. But Ling Zetiang seemed not to need her, and the atmosphere was growing a bit awkward, so she decided to leave.

In the main cabin, she saw Qin Ruyan watching her, as if wanting to say something.

Feng Qiuji looked back at Qin Ruyan. This woman was someone Ling Zetiang had once loved—his former lover, or rather, his wife now. In truth, Feng Qiuji wished she could avoid Qin Ruyan altogether, especially in this confined space with only the three of them. It made her feel superfluous, a feeling she detested. Every time she saw Qin Ruyan’s face, her mind would conjure up images of her past with Ling Zetiang.

People are like this—they fill in the blanks about the unknown with their imagination, and such subjective musings only serve to exaggerate reality and amplify their own sorrow.

It was nearly impossible for Feng Qiuji to believe that nothing had ever happened between the two of them. They had a past, memories together—a history she was not part of.

In life, for every gain, there is a loss; everything is a choice. Many people hope to love only one person, to grow old together, man or woman. But the truth is, you only learn how to love after you have experienced loss. Too many meet their greatest love in the prime of youth, yet fail to cherish it, letting it slip away. By the time they have grown and learned how to love, the person beside them is no longer the one they first loved, and the ability to love has been lost.

Youth is as splendid as brocade; the years flow by like a song.

“Let’s talk.” After a long silence, during which neither knew what the other was thinking, Qin Ruyan finally broke into a gentle smile and spoke.

“Yes.” Feng Qiuji nodded. Perhaps she too had things she wished to say to Qin Ruyan, but she had always tried to avoid it—for fear of heartbreak, for self-preservation, she had never dared to face it.

But in this world, no matter how—