The Legend of Chu Qiao: Division 11's Princess Agent

Chapter 225

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

When she got back to the horse carriage, Meixiang was waiting for her happily. Chu Qiao sat down quietly, her heart still palpitating from earlier on. Had she been too rash?

“Miss,” Meixiang laughed as she spoke, “some things cannot be dealt with rationally in this world. I feel that you were too calm previously. Being impulsive for once is not a bad thing too.”

Chu Qiao turned around and looked at Meixiang in awe, clearly surprised by her intricate observation skills.

Meixiang continued to laugh as she said, “Miss, don’t you know? You give away everything through the expression on your face now. Compared to your past self, I feel that you are more likable now.”

As the horse carriage started to move off, Pingan walked over and asked, “Sister, are we going to follow those people?”

“Of course we’re going with them!” Jingjing opened the curtains and butted in. “We’re not just following them. We’ll be living together in the future! Haha!”

Meixiang poured a cup of ginseng tea for Chu Qiao as she sighed softly. “Miss, not everyone will wait for another person year after year. For some things, if you don’t grab the chance now, you will regret it if things change in the future.”

The warm winds blew into the carriage as it lifted the curtains slightly, appearing like the touch of a mother’s warm finger. The sky was blue; the eagles circled in the sky above the clouds, far away from the happenings of the human world.

Chu Qiao sat on the stone steps as she gazed at the sky over the horizon. The flowers in the courtyard were in full bloom, appearing a crimson red and a bright yellow, which was soothing to the eye.

The waiter at the inn, a young boy of about 13 to 14-years-old, sat on his small bench as he diligently prepared some tea. Jingjing and Pingan sat at the side as they chatted along with him. Chu Qiao overheard them talking about various topics, from the sceneries of the flat plains, to the ancient streets of Qiuling along the southern borders, to Xia’s swordhouses, to Tang’s Wuya Mountains, and finally to Yan Bei’s Huihui Mountains. As the conversation started to heat up, Jingjing took out a packet of candied fruit and started to chew on it as she talked.

Meixiang sat under a camphor tree at the side as she tried to make a wreath. Her hands weaved around expertly and with agility, captivating the attention of anyone who looked towards her.

As the sky darkened, the courtyard was shrouded in a blanket of lights as the daytime heat slowly dissipated. Jingjing requested a few bowls of cold fruit from the kitchen, which looked deliciously palatable.

The torrential downpour earlier on had damaged the bridge in front of Qiufeng City. Chu Qiao and her party’s schedule was delayed, forcing them to remain in Qiufeng City for two more days before continuing their journey up north. Presently, they were housed in a small inn by a hill and a lake. The inn was built on top of the hill. As the contours of the hill bobbed up and down, it looked like a forested area due to the high concentration of trees.

Chu Qiao’s room was on top of a stone cliff high up, facing the west. The innkeeper was presumably a man of culture as well; this place was next to Sunset Mountains, hence it assumed the name of “Sunset Courtyard”. Every evening, the view of the sunset was beautiful.

Zhuge Yue stayed in Guicang Inn, located next door. On the afternoon of the previous day, he sent some people to aid in the reconstruction works of the bridge and the crossing, along with the officials. He had urgent matters to attend to, hence he initiated the gesture of goodwill.

It rained all the way from morning to afternoon. The trees were lush; the flower petals hovered in the sky as they fell to the ground. The sight was charming.

Chu Qiao wore a plain white dress, with a wooden hairpin on top of her head. Her long, black hair was loosely braided, giving her a refreshing look. It was a full moon that night. Chu Qiao looked at it silently as she realized that the Mid-Autumn Festival was approaching. However, this occasion did not exist in this era yet. The period around the Mid-Autumn Festival was called the “Festival of the White Moon”. The name was coined from a song which Chu Qiao had heard before when she was in the army. The song painted a picture of a man who went to fight a war for many years, being promoted from an ordinary soldier to a general. Finally, when he returned home after the war, he realized that his house had collapsed; his wife had eloped with another man, his parents and children had starved to death, their remains scattered to unknown locations without a proper grave as a resting place. She remembered the last line of the song vividly: The moonlight shines on my soul, asking you to return to our hometown earlier... From then on, this festival advocated the idea of a closely-knitted family – it advised people to treasure their families, and not to neglect kinship in the face of their achievements, only to regret when the situation was no longer salvageable.

The moonlight shines on my soul, asking you to return to our hometown earlier...

“It’s a nice song.” Meixiang put down the wreath that she held in her hands. She turned around and looked at Chu Qiao, laughed, and said, “I haven’t heard you sing before.”

Chu Qiao was stunned as it dawned on her that she had started to hum out the tune subconsciously.

“This is a really nice song. Miss, do you understand the meaning behind this song now?”

Chu Qiao tilted her head to the side slightly and remarked, “Meixiang, looks like you’ve been into educating people on the principles of life lately.”

“I’m not educated. I only know the simplest principles of life. How can I compare to you, Miss?” Meixiang chuckled as she continued to say, “However, sometimes, the more you know, the more you are confused by those seemingly simple principles.”

“Day by day, year by year, I sit on the rooftop, looking at the village roads in search of my husband.

While he defends the borders, others steal from us, leaving the children with no clothes to wear, and the parents with no food to eat.

The emperor is far away; the warriors are not here. The evil village elder rules over the land.

As the storm and snow ravages my house, the moonlight shines on my soul, asking you to return to our hometown earlier...”

Meixiang’s expression was calm as she leaned on the tree, blurting out the lyrics to the songs as some flower petals landed on the wreath in her hands. The white rays of moonlight shone on her fingers, making it appear like the wings of a butterfly. Suddenly, the sounds of a flute started to resonate from afar. It was barely audible as it was too far out, but it lingered in the air high up for a long while, not losing its charm. It sounded carefree and broad; a sense of magnanimousness could be detected in the melodies of the flute. Pingan and the rest were still engaged in conversation. However, upon hearing the sounds of the flute, all of them stopped talking. Even Jingjing, who was not well-versed in music, stuck her ears out earnestly to listen quietly.

Meixiang stood up and returned to her room to retrieve a white cloak, then draped it over Chu Qiao’s shoulder. She was laughing as she said, “Miss, you have been busy living your life on tenterhooks these few days. It’s time to take a rest. The backyard of this courtyard has good sceneries. The moonlight is good tonight. Why don’t you take a walk there?”

Chu Qiao turned around to see Meixiang staring at her with a smile, encouraging her to do what she had just said.

“Meixiang...” Chu Qiao wanted to say something, but no words came out of her mouth.

Meixiang continued to speak, “Miss, I don’t understand anything about the principles of loyalty. Those beliefs...I don’t understand anything. I only wish for Miss to live a happy life. You’re a good person. That song was not meant for you to listen to.”

The moonlight shone on Chu Qiao’s face as she went into a daze. The lyrics of the second half of the song flashed across her mind:

“As years pass, the snow continues to fall. My husband does not know his way back; it is a bleak future ahead.

As the children succumb to the plague and the parents starve, I am forced to sell my body for food to keep us alive.

He is ambitious and despises the poor life. My hair has turned white after waiting ten years for his return.

Life is difficult. As time passes, I no longer yearn for riches, but a proper place to sleep in instead...”

“Meixiang, pass me the light green cloak.” Meixiang looked at her suspiciously as she was slightly surprised. However, Chu Qiao started to laugh as she stood up and said, “You wear nothing but white and black all day. It looks like you’re going to a funeral.”

As the moonlight continued to shine, she walked along the path quietly, as her mind wandered down the memory lane as well. The memories were like eagles, as they flew across the portrait-like background with a beautiful lake as a setting. All of her emotions blended together as it submerged itself to the bottom of her heart, turning into a puddle of water as it slowly froze into ice.

Enmity, restraint, resentment, entanglement, kindness, unity, life and death, reunion, struggles, elation, farewells, and disconsolation...

With every step she took, a new scene flashed across her mind, which was often too much for her to bear. It reminded her of family and domestic feuds, the personal feuds, the mistreatment, the disappointment, her stubborn devotion, and the many years of suppression and tolerance that she had to endure. Many a time, it had caused her to feel overwhelmed.

She had buried these emotions at the bottom of her heart for so long. However, this controversial song struck a chord with her, fishing these emotions out through her fingertips, lyric by lyric. She was the lake in the picture, using her rationality and calmness to freeze herself over and bury her emotions.

One year, two years, many years at a time.

Near the back of the mountains, a small pavilion was built atop a small pond. The wood used in its construction had been slightly damaged, but the boss had thoughtfully planted some pollia japonica and wisteria flowers below the pavilion to preserve its aesthetic appeal. The flowers clung onto the wooden pillars and grew their way up slowly, adding an element of class and tranquility to the setting.

The moonlight shone on the green pond. The crescent moon imprinted its reflection onto the water surface, appearing a pale white. Zhuge Yue wore a purple outfit as he sat on the steps leading up to the pavilion. He bent one leg as he straightened the other, leaning his back against the worn-out pillars. A few loose strands of hair stuck out from his hairline, resting against his forehead. He was still as handsome as ever, as he held a green flute in his hand while playing his melodious tune. Without any resentment, devotion, and ambition being expressed through his music, it sounded like an ordinary young man playing a folk song in his repertoire—relaxed and soothing. The aroma of the flowers lingered playfully around his nose.

Chu Qiao stood there quietly, not speaking a word. The wind blew across her green cloak as it fluttered in the air, appearing like a willow branch in the early morning. She had not seen him in this way before. Through the vicissitudes of many years, she had lamented her fate repeatedly. As she stood here presently, she started to appreciate the fact that she was much better off than the general in that heart-rending song. Her house had not collapsed; her family had not died. As for the person she loved, he stood right there in front of her, waiting to hold her hand whenever she decided to turn back.

Despite being forcibly separated geographically and due to circumstances, he staggered along this difficult path, step by step, all the way up to this day. With a sense of wilfulness and stubbornness, which was few and far between in this world, he had managed to defy all expectations as he watched over her, helping her to navigate through the complexities of life.

That layer of ice on the lake in her mind thawed in an instant. She seemingly heard the collapse of the rational Xia Empire with a resounding thud, as she told herself: Perhaps, I can be willful for once too. After all, she had not been wilful for many years.

As the sounds of the flute stopped, the man tilted his head to the side, looking at the woman dressed in green standing under the tree. In that instant, he was temporarily dazed.

“Why are you here?”

“Are you the only one that’s allowed to come here?” Chu Qiao laughed as she kicked out at Zhuge Yue’s leg. “Get out of the way.” She naturally sat down after the man retracted his leg. The white moonlight shone on her face, making it appear like a broken piece of jade that was still in a relatively good condition.

“Zhuge Yue, are you heading back to Xia once the bridge is repaired tomorrow?”

Zhuge Yue nodded and looked at her with a queer look on his face. “What’s the matter?”

“When are you going to find me then?”

A tinge of surprise flashed across the man’s eyes. Perplexed, he looked at her, seemingly trying to detect any ulterior motives she harbored.

“Are you going to wait till the Xia Emperor dies? Or when Zhao Che ascends the throne? At that time, would you be able to escape fully?” Chu Qiao quizzed as she bent her knees, sitting on the steps. She wore the hat on top of her cloak, covering up her fair neck. She leaned her chin on her knee, gazing towards the pond in front. Turning around suddenly, she remarked, “Zhuge Yue, let me sing a song for you.”

The look in the woman’s face was bright—a complete opposite to her old, easily depressed self. She looked at him quietly as she smiled, the recurrent scene in her dreams finally becoming a reality. Her eyes filtered out other background distractions and shadows, leaving him as the only thing in her line of sight.