A Man in the Snow: Starting with a Sword Challenge to the Northern Liang Prince's Palace

When Ye Yun opened the door, she almost kicked it. A wooden box, about a foot square, lacquered black, without any signature or markings, was simply placed neatly in front of the threshold, as if waiting for someone to come and take it.

He bent down and picked it up; it was heavy. The box wasn't locked; it opened easily with a gentle lift.

There are two things inside.

A letter. A portrait.

Ye Yun first picked up the portrait and unfolded it.

His hand stopped.

The woman in the painting is dressed in snow-white, standing under a plum tree. Her eyebrows and eyes are aloof, and her lips are slightly pursed, as if she is not happy to be painted. Her hair is tied up, with a white jade hairpin inserted diagonally into her hair bun, the tip of which is carved with a plum blossom.

Nangong Pushe.

Ye Yun recognized the dress. It was the white dress that Pu She loved to wear, with subtle plum blossom embroidery on the cuffs. When she was alive, she would wear this dress to admire the plum blossoms every winter when they bloomed.

The person who painted this picture had seen her. They had seen her wearing this dress, and they had seen her standing under the plum tree. Not only had they seen her, but they were very familiar with her. Because the expression in the painting was captured perfectly—that faint impatience, tinged with a hint of curiosity, as if saying, "Are you done yet?"

Ye Yun's fingers trembled slightly.

He placed the portrait on the counter and picked up the letter. The envelope was addressed to "Ye Yun," the handwriting neat and composed. He opened the envelope; inside was a thin sheet of paper with only a few lines of text:

"Ye Yun, I understand your obsession. The end of the cycle of reincarnation is the otherworldly demon. But if you are willing to cooperate with me, I can help you resurrect her. Think it over carefully. Don't rush to answer. — Zhou Mi"

Ye Yun read the letter once, then read it again.

Then he crumpled the letter into a ball, held it tightly in his hand until his knuckles turned white.

A murderous intent surged in his eyes, so intense it seemed to overflow from their sockets. The temperature in the tavern seemed to drop several degrees instantly, and a thin layer of water droplets condensed on the surface of the wine jugs on the counter.

But he didn't move.

He stood behind the counter, clutching the wad of paper, for a long time. The murderous intent slowly receded, like the tide going out, slowly withdrawing.

He loosened his grip, unfolded the crumpled letter, smoothed it out, and read it again.

Zhou Mi was testing him.

If he flies into a rage, if he loses his composure, if he impulsively runs to Zhou Mi—then he will fall right into Zhou Mi's trap. What Zhou Mi wants is for him to lose his temper, to expose his weaknesses.

Ye Yun folded the letter and put it in her bosom.

He picked up the portrait, examined it for a while, then went behind the counter, found an empty spot on the wall, and hung it up. It was right next to the portrait of Mei Ruoxue that Dong Bude had left behind.

Two portraits are placed side by side. One is of Mei Ruoxue, and the other is of Nangong Pushe. One is smiling, and the other is cold.

Ye Yun took two steps back, looked at the two paintings, and nodded.

That evening, he went to see Chen Ping'an.

Chen Ping'an was studying the city defense map in the Hidden Official's Office. Two oil lamps were lit on the table, illuminating the entire room. He held the map with one hand and wrote and drew on the paper with the other, his brows furrowed in worry.

Ye Yun pushed open the door and came in without saying hello, placing Zhou Mi's letter on the table.

Chen Ping'an looked up at him, put down his pen, and picked up the letter.

He read it very slowly, word by word. He read it once, then read it again. Then he put the letter down, leaned back in his chair, and looked at Ye Yun.

"Zhou Mi is after you," Chen Ping'an said.

Ye Yun sat down opposite him: "I know."

"He wants to win you over."

"I know."

"Will you waver?" Chen Ping'an stared into his eyes.

Ye Yun didn't answer immediately. He thought for a moment, then shook his head: "No. A meticulously crafted promise is worthless."

Chen Ping'an breathed a sigh of relief, but his brow remained furrowed. He pointed to a sentence in the letter: "'The end of the cycle of reincarnation is the otherworldly demon'—what does he mean by that?"

Ye Yun leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped over his stomach: "He's telling me that the path I'm on is a dead end. If I don't cooperate with him, I'll eventually become a demon beyond redemption."

Do you believe it?

Ye Yun thought for a moment: "I believe it only halfway. The seventh level of the Samsara Sword Path is indeed dangerous, as A Liang also mentioned. But it doesn't necessarily turn you into an otherworldly demon. Zhou Mi exaggerated."

Chen Ping'an was silent for a moment: "He wants you to feel that he is your only choice."

Ye Yun nodded.

"So what do you plan to do?"

Ye Yun took the letter back, folded it, and put it back in her bosom: "What to do? Wait."

"What are you waiting for?"

"Wait for him to make a mistake." Ye Yun stood up. "Zhou Mi is a man of meticulous planning. But he plans too much, so he'll always overlook something. When he does, that will be my chance."

Chen Ping'an looked at him and suddenly said, "Boss Ye, that portrait...is it of your wife?"

Ye Yun paused for a moment, then nodded.

"She is beautiful."

Ye Yun's lips twitched, as if she wanted to smile, but she didn't: "Hmm. Very beautiful."

He turned and walked towards the door. Reaching the door, he stopped, his back to Chen Ping'an, and said, "Ping'an, if someone used Ning Yao to threaten you, what would you do?"

Chen Ping'an was stunned.

Ye Yun didn't wait for his reply and went out.

Chen Ping'an sat in the Hidden Official's Mansion. The lamp oil had burned out, the flame flickered a few times, and then went out. In the darkness, he thought about Ye Yun's problem all night long.

When Ye Yun returned to the tavern, it was already very late.

The streets were deserted, and most of the torches on the city walls had been extinguished. He pushed open the door, lit the oil lamp on the counter, and sat down behind it.

He looked at the newly hung portrait on the wall.

Nangong Pushe. Dressed in white as snow, pure and aloof like plum blossoms.

He recalled that when Qian Shouxin was alive, he once came over for drinks and saw this portrait, asking, "Boss Ye, who is this?"

He replied, "My wife."

Qian Shouxin said "Oh" and didn't ask any more questions. He picked up his wine bowl, took a sip, and said, "She's really good-looking."

Ye Yun didn't respond. Qian Shouxin didn't say anything more either. Everyone in the Sword Qi Great Wall knew that you shouldn't ask what you shouldn't ask, and you shouldn't say what you shouldn't say. Everyone has something on their mind; there's no need to pry.

Ye Yun took out a pot of "Longing" wine from under the counter, poured a small cup, and slowly drank it. The wine was bitter and astringent, and it made his stomach feel hot after drinking it.

He looked at the portrait of Park She and said softly, "Park She, Zhou Mi wanted to use you to shake me. But he doesn't understand that I want to resurrect you, not for anyone else, but for myself."

The woman in the portrait remained silent, her lips slightly pursed, as if to say, "What are you doing now?"

Ye Yun smiled. It was a very faint smile, fainter than a cry.

"Wait a little longer," he said. "It'll be soon."

He finished the cup of "love wine," washed it clean, and put it back on the shelf. Then he blew out the oil lamp and sat in the darkness.

Moonlight streamed through the window paper, casting a pale square on the ground. Dust drifted slowly and leisurely within the square.

Ye Yun took out the crumpled and then smoothed-out letter from his pocket and unfolded it in the darkness. He couldn't see the words, but he knew what was written on it. He remembered every single word clearly.

"I can help you resurrect her."

Revive her.

He had waited countless years for these words. But the one who spoke them was Zhou Mi. The Zhou Mi who had killed countless people, the Zhou Mi who had turned the entire desolate world upside down. His promise was utterly worthless.

Ye Yun folded the letter again and put it back in her bosom.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

In the darkness, he could hear his own heartbeat, slow and steady, one beat at a time.

He recalled the look in Park Seok's eyes when he last saw him. It wasn't resentment, nor was it reluctance; it was a very calm look, as if saying, "It's okay, I don't blame you."

But Ye Yun blamed himself.

If he had been a little stronger that day, if his sword had been a little faster, if he had arrived a little earlier—Park She wouldn't have died.

No if.

He opened his eyes and looked in the darkness toward the portrait on the wall. Although he couldn't see her, he knew she was there.

“Park She,” he said, “Zhou Mi tried to use you to sway me. But he doesn’t know that I have nothing left to lose.”

The wind outside the window picked up, making the door creak and groan.

Ye Yun stood up, walked to the door, and bolted it again. Then she went back behind the counter, lay down on the table, and closed her eyes.

There are still things to do tomorrow. The demon race won't stop attacking the city just because he's distracted; Chen Ping'an still needs his watchful eye, and the tavern needs to stay open. Life goes on.

He lay there for a while, then raised his head and glanced in the direction of the portrait.

"Wait a little longer," he said softly.

Then he lay down and fell asleep.

The oil lamp went out, plunging the tavern into darkness. Two portraits hung side by side on the wall, but the moonlight couldn't reach them, obscuring the faces of the figures. Yet, if anyone could see them, they would notice that Mei Ruoxue was smiling, while Nangong Pushe was frowning.

Two women, one waited for six hundred years and finally got what she wanted, the other waited for who knows how many years and is still waiting.

Ye Yun lay face down on the table, fast asleep. He hadn't slept this soundly in a long time. Perhaps it was because the portrait hung beside him, or perhaps it was because he finally knew what Zhou Mi possessed. Whatever the reason, he didn't want to think about it anymore today.

I'll get some sleep and talk about it tomorrow.