Chapter Forty-Six: Unusual

Can it really be done? Han Tan Yi did not know. Though this was what he wished in his heart, some things are easier hoped for than forgotten. Even in that final, resolute moment, the young man understood that Shui Linglong’s resolve was but a fleeting, deliberate act. He could not take it seriously. He truly did not believe that, when they met, she would actually carry out her threat and kill him as she had declared. Thus, as he crossed the suspension bridge—short though it was—Han Tan Yi walked slowly, each step heavy, weighed down by twofold guilt within his heart, for two very different women.

Of course, no matter one’s thoughts, they cannot last forever. As long as his feet kept moving, even such a bridge could not take long to cross. Shui Linglong’s words were true: if one chooses to leave, one must forget all that happened there. And the best way to forget a person is, undoubtedly, to think of another. Yet to let Hua Butterfly play such a role, Han Tan Yi felt he was wronging her, and therein lay the root of his conflict. The feeling was like the morning mist on the bridge—hazy, obscuring the path ahead, uncertain what scenes awaited him.

Two long howls broke the silence. Wolves are creatures of keen alertness, able to sense what people might overlook. At that moment, Han Tan Yi stood at the end of the bridge, unmoving. He knew Hua Butterfly’s temperament better than anyone: the phrase “ice-cold beauty” suited her perfectly. She always wore a solemn expression, and few had ever seen her smile. “Few,” because Han Tan Yi recalled that she had, once, smiled for him. Women, he thought, never look ugly when they smile, and Hua Butterfly, being so beautiful, was even more breathtaking when her smile broke through. For a long time, Han Tan Yi believed she was the most beautiful woman in the world; this belief only ended when Shui Linglong removed her veil.

Still, no matter how you looked at it, Hua Butterfly belonged to the category of peerless beauty. Such is the nature of men: to love someone, the first step is not to object to her face; temperament and habits come later. No sooner had Han Tan Yi paused than two shapes burst from the mist: the two snow wolves. When they reached him, they seemed to suppress their wildness, becoming friendly, even rubbing their fur against his pant legs. It was no wonder; the three were old acquaintances, and their reunion brought joy. If wolves could wag their tails, they would have seemed like dogs. Han Tan Yi slowly crouched, his hand caressing the snow wolf’s body. The fur, chilled by the morning, felt somewhat stiff, but the sensation was nonetheless comforting.

“You haven’t come for a while. I thought you were angry with me.” The voice was delicate; here, it could only belong to Hua Butterfly. Though her figure was not yet visible, Han Tan Yi’s movements froze, tension evident. He hesitated before turning his gaze toward the cabin, but saw nothing. Then a dark silhouette grew nearer until Hua Butterfly herself appeared before him, only a few feet away. Han Tan Yi stood up, the wolves returned to her side and sat at her left and right like guardians. His gaze fell upon her, surprise evident, and for a moment, he spoke no word.

Surprise, because Han Tan Yi had never seen Hua Butterfly in such a state. Her smile was unmistakable, even tinged with a hint of endearment. It was as if, in the brief half-month since they last met, the coldness that defined her had melted away with the deepening spring, no longer resembling his memory. Though Han Tan Yi had once hoped for this moment, now that it had arrived, he found it hard to accept. His eyes widened, scrutinizing her attire. Perhaps because the morning was so early, Hua Butterfly, who always slept late, had not had time to dress; she was not fully awake, her clothes loose, clad only in a thin white nightgown that revealed her exquisite figure completely before Han Tan Yi. He had never seen a woman’s form so clearly, and his nervousness grew worse. His face flushed, he stammered for a long time before replying, “I—no, I’m not angry. You’re wearing—oh, what am I saying? Aren’t you cold?”

Cold was not the best word. Seeing his reaction, the smile on Hua Butterfly’s face became even warmer, enough to make anyone feel at ease. At this point, Han Tan Yi’s only instinct was to wonder if he was still dreaming. How else could he witness such a scene? Real and unreal, indistinguishable. He wanted to pinch himself to verify, but in front of Hua Butterfly, he could not bring himself to do so. He awkwardly lowered his gaze, trying to keep his eyes away, while his thoughts churned: What am I saying? Han Tan Yi, compose yourself. You must not let Butterfly laugh at you.

“You’re right, the morning does feel a bit chilly. Why don’t you come into the house with me?” She responded to his words, but this invitation made Han Tan Yi uneasy. He had been to this valley countless times, but never entered the cabin. It was as sacred as a woman’s inner chamber, forbidden to men. Especially considering Hua Butterfly’s usual coldness—she rarely spoke, let alone invited a man into her room. The scene felt uncanny: her attire, expression, even her speech all clashed with his memories. This was the moment he had hoped for, yet now that it was real, he was frightened.

“I—I won’t go in. It’s early, and I feel guilty disturbing you. I just hadn’t seen you in so long, my heart was uneasy. Now that I’ve seen you, I’m at ease.” Han Tan Yi’s expression was nervous, his words muddled. He himself was unsure what he meant. Perhaps from nerves, he felt sweat bead on his forehead and was at a loss what to do. Even his hands didn’t know where to rest. The environment felt so cold, he instinctively stuffed his hands in his pockets, where he touched something. Suddenly, he remembered, “Oh, I brought you a gift from my travels. I hope you’ll like it!”

As he spoke, he swiftly produced the gift. The luminous pearl was indeed dazzling, even in the early morning light. Han Tan Yi looked down, unable to meet Hua Butterfly’s eyes, waiting anxiously, afraid she might refuse. Her gaze lingered briefly on the pearl before she accepted it, the smoothness pleasing to the touch. She gently blew on its surface, and instantly, her breath enveloped the pearl, refracting its translucent glow into a spectrum of colors.

“You went to Yingyang?” Hua Butterfly asked, puzzled. Her words surprised Han Tan Yi; whether she liked the gift or not, he expected her to comment, but how did she know he’d been to Yingyang? A woman who lived in seclusion on Mount Qilian—could she recognize the origin of the luminous pearl? The thought made Han Tan Yi uneasy; he looked up at her face, searching for clues, wondering, If she knows this pearl was stolen, what would she think?

At that moment, Han Tan Yi did not know how to answer, quickly turning over possible replies in his mind, but it was a difficult problem. He could only remain silent. Yet Hua Butterfly seemed not to care, nor did she notice his hesitation. Her gaze remained on the pearl, her tone curious: “This is the Cold Cicada Jewel of the Zhou family in Shaozhou. Somehow, it ended up in the hands of Shen Wansan. Though it’s a treasure, it pales in comparison to the Shen family’s Seven-Colored Luminous Pearl. If you hadn’t gone to Yingyang, how would it have come to you?”