cold clothes

Lengyi quietly followed Nuandong back to Liuyun Pavilion. Nuandong could sense that Lengyi was in a low mood, but she did not try to comfort her. This kind of pain could only be overcome by herself.

As they walked, they noticed servants clearing snow from the roadside not far away. Leng Yi was suddenly stunned when she saw them and stopped to stare at them.

The warm winter quietly kept her company.

"Is this what it means to be reminded of someone by seeing an object? Sister Nuandong, my heart aches so much," Lengyi murmured, her eyes glistening with tiny, misty tears.

"...My mother passed away a few years ago. I left home and wandered, trying to numb myself by staying away from everything related to her. I thought that if I couldn't see her, I wouldn't feel the pain. But I can't do that now. Whenever I see snow, I think of Wu Xue... I still can't accept it. Why did such a talented and beautiful young girl have to die in the snow-covered winter?"

Leng Yi's voice became increasingly trembling and hoarse, her eyes involuntarily reddened, and her nose was also red from staying outside for too long.

She sniffed, trying hard to hold back her tears, and asked, "Sister Nuandong, where is Wuxue now?"

After a moment's thought, Warm Winter slowly said, "He has already been buried in the back mountain."

Leng Yi's heart skipped a beat: "Is it like Sister Yun Mei, where we dig a hole and bury her in the back mountain?"

"Pretty much, but since a monument has been erected in her honor, we can find her."

Leng Yi immediately said, "I want to go see her."

"Okay, I'll take you there." Warm Winter gently wiped away the tears from Leng Yi's eyes, then took her hand and walked in another direction.

The path leading up the back mountain is narrow and desolate. Unlike carefully tended flowers, the wild grass grows wildly even in the harsh winter, forming a lush and abundant landscape under the weight of frost and snow.

Lengyi noticed that most of the trees on the back mountain had colorful ribbons tied to their trunks, in varying quantities. Curious, she asked Nuandong about it. Nuandong explained that each ribbon represented a person buried under that tree, and that the ribbons were amulets for the deceased on their journey to the underworld.

Leng Yi felt a chill run down her spine upon hearing this. Looking around, she saw the mountains covered in ribbons, meaning that almost every inch of the land beneath their feet was buried with corpses. How many of the dead had died unjustly? Could the ribbons truly protect the souls of the dead? Did the deceased truly wish to be reincarnated in the underworld, or did they remain wandering in the mountains as vengeful spirits? Thinking these thoughts, Leng Yi's legs went weak, and she gripped Nuan Dong's hand tightly.

"If I kill Granny Qin, will she be buried here too?"

Warm Winter nodded, then smiled at Cold Clothes and said, "If you don't want to, you don't have to bury her here."

Sensing the murderous intent in Nuandong's words, Lengyi quickly said, "I didn't have that thought... Moreover, I didn't feel any pleasure in revenge after killing Granny Qin; on the contrary, I felt extremely sad."

Warm Winter remained silent, offering no reply. She took a few more steps, still wearing her winter coat, and stopped in front of a small mound of earth. A small wooden sign stood before the mound, which read "Tomb of Dancing Snow."

Leng Yi suddenly held her breath. The small mound was fresh soil, bare without snow or weeds. Two white candles burned in front of the small wooden sign, the flames only half-burned, wisps of smoke rising.

This simple grave was where Wu Xue rested after her death. A strange sense of absurdity arose in Leng Yi's heart, making her want to protest something.

But in the end, Leng Yi couldn't utter any words of hatred or determination, and could only let out a powerless sigh: "Why is human life so fragile..."

“Life is like that of an ant, born in the morning and dying at dusk.” Warm Winter said slowly, “People cannot decide their own birth, and most of them cannot control their own death. They can only live in a daze, following the flow of fate. In my opinion, Wu Xue chose her own death, which is a very admirable thing.”

"Wu Xue chose it herself?" Leng Yi shook her head in disbelief, and said with difficulty, "But I think she died because of me."