In the autumn of the 23rd year of Kaiwu, during an era of peace and universal harmony—"Watch out!" Shen Rongxi shouted, pushing aside the bushes and rushing forward. He steadied himself to take the sword strike with his own body.
His cry startled the group engaged in combat behind him.
The man in black spun around sharply, only to see Shen Rongxi lying pale on the ground, his chest crimson where the blade had pierced his skin.
Pain surged through his entire body, and he instinctively clamped his hand over the wound.
The man in black squinted, sweeping a cold gaze over the crowd surrounding him with swords drawn. The chill in his eyes grew more menacing.
Moments later, bodies lay scattered across the ground. Clutching his wound, Shen Rongxi looked up at the black-clad figure standing over him.
In that moment their eyes met, Shen Rongxi realized "he" was actually a woman.
Her raven hair was tied high in a stern ponytail, her black robes exuding a fierce resolve. A black cloth masked her face, blood splatters dotting her brow, yet her peach-blossom eyes were strikingly clear—bottomless pools of depth.
Shen Rongxi stared dumbly into those cold, beautiful eyes.
She regarded his stunned expression indifferently. Just as she turned to leave, he suddenly snapped back to his senses.
It's said that when you like someone, you long to call their name. In that moment, he desperately wanted to know hers.
"May I dare ask… may I inquire about the lady's honorable name?" Shen Rongxi ventured timidly. She turned back, fixing him with a cold stare.
"Nameless."
Nameless? He gazed at her retreating figure, lost in a daze.
Shen Rongxi was a scholar from a poor family who had just passed the provincial exam (qiuwei) that autumn. Overjoyed, he decided to pack early for the capital to prepare for the national exam (chunwei) the following spring. Shouldering his book satchel, he trod through the autumn leaves. After days of travel, he was nearing the capital when relentless rain began to fall.
The continuous drizzle delayed his journey. Eager to arrive on schedule, he asked an innkeeper for a shortcut.
At last, the rain stopped after days. Shen Rongxi set out at dawn.
He crossed a forest path and entered a vast, verdant bamboo grove. Sunlight filtered through swaying leaves, casting dappled patterns across his body.
After walking for some time, he found a shaded spot to rest.
All around was eerily silent, not a whisper of wind, yet an unease lingered in his heart.
As Shen Rongxi bowed his head to review the Four Books, he suddenly heard the faint clanging of weapons in the distance—a muffled skirmish.
His heart tightening, he gripped his satchel strap and crept to hide behind some bushes.
Through the foliage, he saw a group surrounding a nimble figure clad in black.
Just as a sword aimed for the stranger's back, he dropped his satchel and dashed forward.
Thus unfolded the trite scene of a "hero saving a beauty"—but reality differed wildly from Shen Rongxi's expectations. The lady neither fell instantly in love nor vowed to repay him with her hand.
The sensation of steel piercing flesh was far more visceral than he'd imagined.
The excruciating pain jolted his thoughts back.
How could anyone be so cold? She hadn't even uttered a word of thanks for being saved.
Thankfully, the wound missed his vital organs. He staggered to a capital medical hall, where his injury was treated in time.
Stepping out of the clinic into the darkening sky, Shen Rongxi tightened his satchel strap. With little money left, he struggled to decide where to spend the night.
Gazing at the empty streets, he pressed his thin lips together. Some things, it seemed, could not be avoided.
Familiar with the capital's alleyways, Shen Rongxi navigated them with ease. Treading the familiar blue stone paths, he stopped before a vermilion gate. Unlocking it, he pushed open the heavy doors.
Memories flooded back—five years, a full five years…
He'd thought that some things would fade if left unpondered, yet after half a decade, every scene of the past remained etched vividly in his mind.
Shen Rongxi stepped heavily into the courtyard, tracing his fingers over the familiar doors and windows. Every plant, every stone here had been deeply missed; every fragment of the past was carved into his bones.
He heaved a long sigh, striding into a room to set down his satchel and belongings. After a quick sweep, he took out his books and resumed studying.
By the dim light of an oil lamp, he bent over his texts, just as he had on countless nights during his decade of 寒窗 study.
The past was truly past. One must look forward, and he knew exactly what he wanted.
The classics say: The one I love dwells beyond the water.
The one I love… His mind suddenly drifted to the woman from that day—her lithe figure, her indifferent gaze. How was she faring now?
To his surprise, he realized he was worrying about her safety—the same woman who hadn't even thanked him.
Lost in thought, he started as the carved lattice window suddenly slammed open. By the faint lamplight, he saw a shadow dart swiftly into the room.