Sensing the slight movement at the corner of his clothes, Wu Li abruptly opened his eyes.
He realized it was Chai Xiaomi quietly wiping away tears.
His heart tightened, as if pricked by a soft thorn, and he immediately pulled her into his arms.
The movement was swift and decisive, leaving her no time to react. Then he raised his forearm, offering his sleeve to her.
Chai Xiaomi didn’t stand on ceremony. She rubbed her face carelessly against his sleeve, then lifted her watery eyes to look at him. “Sister Yao is gone.”
Hearing this, Wu Li’s brows twitched slightly, as if he weren’t too surprised.
He had already noticed that Song Yueyao had never given Jiang Zhiyu any response from start to finish. That deliberate distance, that polite aloofness—it was clearly preparation for a separation someday. She definitely had something else to do, and she wanted to do it alone.
Besides, the old man’s appearance was meant to take Jiang Zhiyu back to Lingyuzhou. Their parting was inevitable—a fate no one could change.
Wu Li glanced down, catching sight of the figure crouched not far away, shoulders trembling. He curled the corner of his mouth and muttered irritably, “This fool only knows how to cry. Why doesn’t he chase after her?”
Chai Xiaomi sniffled, her voice muffled. “What’s the point of chasing her? Sister Yao deliberately said harsh words, leaving no room for negotiation. It means she’s made up her mind to leave.”
“Just tie her up,” Wu Li said matter-of-factly, tilting his chin toward the knotted clothes on their own bodies. “Like this—tie them together, and they can’t leave even if they want to.”
Chai Xiaomi: “...”
She hadn’t even noticed when he’d tied the knot.
“They could just untie it,” she said.
“Then I’ll use a silver chain,” Wu Li replied, a hint of lazy smugness curling at his lips. “In the Miao village, silver accessories are plenty. Making a silver chain would take no time at all.”
As he spoke, his arms coiled around her waist like serpents, pulling her closer until they were pressed tightly together.
His thin lips hovered near the tip of her nose, his cold breath pressing down. “Don’t you dare follow her example. Song Yueyao’s stubbornness is asking for trouble. You be good. If you want to do anything, just tell me—I’ll take care of it for you.”
“So no matter where you go, you take me with you. Understand?”
“If you just vanish like she did...”
He paused, his gaze lingering on the tear streaks still glistening on her face, his eyes darkening. “Mimi, I’ll tie you up in a room where sunlight never comes. Then, even if you cry and beg me, I won’t let you go.”
Chai Xiaomi blinked, tears still clinging to her eyes. But hearing this, she forced them back. She tilted her head, looking at him as if he were some rare oddity. “Wow, Lili, you’re so amazing.”
Wu Li raised an eyebrow.
“Tie me up, lock me in a dark room,” she said, giving him a thumbs-up, her tone genuinely praising. “Then I’ll cry every day, waste away, and finally die of gloom. You’ll get a beautiful corpse—happy?”
Wu Li: “...”
“Then you can hold my corpse and say,” Chai Xiaomi mimicked his tone, “‘Mimi, why weren’t you obedient? If you’d listened, you wouldn’t have ended up like this~’”
Wu Li’s eye twitched.
She was really getting into it.
“Then you’ll regret it, crying over my corpse every day, going crazy trying to revive me.”
For a twisted creep like him, she had to fight fire with fire.
Walk his path till he had no path left.
“...”
He was indeed at a loss for words.
Wu Li fell silent for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.
He lowered his head, pressing his forehead to hers, his voice low and tinged with helpless amusement. “What’s always going on in that little head of yours?”
Chai Xiaomi replied with complete confidence, “I’m thinking about how you’ll mess things up and lose me.”
“I won’t mess up,” he said, squeezing her fingers lightly, his tone lazy yet earnest. “I can’t bear to.”
“Then will you tie me up?”
“Yes.”
Chai Xiaomi: “...”
Jiang Zhiyu wept by the lakeside all night.
And so Chai Xiaomi and Wu Li sat on a tree trunk all night too.
It wasn’t that they feared he might jump into the lake—Wu Li said the water was so shallow it wouldn’t drown anyone, at most soaking his clothes before he climbed back out.
Chai Xiaomi just felt they shouldn’t leave him alone.
As friends, silent company was still company, even if he didn’t know they were there.
Ever since she’d tried to comfort Hong Xiao back at that hotpot meal, Chai Xiaomi had realized a truth: Words meant to console others often can’t even console yourself.
If they’re useless, it’s better to say nothing at all.
Even if she stood in front of Jiang Zhiyu and talked until her mouth ran dry, giving him every kind word she had, it wouldn’t compare to Song Yueyao turning back even once.
Some wounds can’t be healed by others.
Most of the time, people have to heal their own grief.
Still, she knew that the ending for those two was a good one.
Their romance was bittersweet—sweet with a hint of pain, making you laugh and cry.
That was her favorite kind of story, after all. Why else would she have picked out this novel among so many?
The next morning.
As the sky was just beginning to lighten, a faint mist lingered over the lake. Chai Xiaomi was so sleepy she was dozing off against Wu Li’s shoulder when a sharp, nasal voice jolted her awake.
“Oh dear, little brat, why are your eyes so swollen?”
The White Cat had appeared out of nowhere, circling Jiang Zhiyu, its tone so exaggerated it could wring out a liter of water.
“Could it be that Little Yao left you and went off on her own?” It paused, then heaved a sigh, tucking its little paws behind its back like a seasoned authority. “Ah, no feast lasts forever. This is fine. The sovereign lord and the lady have always been worried about you. It’s time for you to come back with your teacher.”
This blatantly obvious performance made it hard for Chai Xiaomi not to suspect the White Cat had been faking sleep all along—even those thunderous snores were probably deliberate.
Probably, it didn’t know how to face their parting either.
After all, it seemed exactly like the stick used to break apart the lovebirds.
But Chai Xiaomi also knew the White Cat had its own constraints.
Jingming Terrace was originally established with support from the Lingyuzhou royal family. Its founder and the royal ancestors were close friends. This bond had been passed down through generations, and by Ji Bai’s time, it still carried a mission of support.
Moreover, the White Cat was on excellent terms with Jiang Runchuan—part advisor, part teacher, part brother, part friend. Since it had been entrusted by the sovereign to bring the young lord back, simply letting Jiang Zhiyu roam freely for so long was already a concession.
Sometimes, duty outweighs desire.
Jiang Zhiyu remained unusually silent. Whatever the White Cat chattered on about, he seemed to hear it and yet not hear it at all—his entire demeanor was one of passive resignation.
The White Cat sighed and turned its head, only to see Chai Xiaomi and Wu Li standing not far behind.
Its eyes lit up as it trotted over on delicate steps, tilting its head to look up at Wu Li. There was a hint of cautious probing in its tone: "Brat, would you be willing to return to Lingyu Prefecture with your master?"
It paused, not continuing.
The implication was clear to Wu Li—it was asking if he wanted to go see his father.
