Chapter Forty-Eight: Making You Laugh

"Sixteen years ago, in that great battle, though the Blue Lotus Cult was reduced to ashes, the Four Great Sects also suffered grievous losses. The master of Donghua fell in the fight; your teacher’s wife, the Fairy of Jade, gave her life to save your master on Sanlang Mountain. Since then, the Celestial Sage has secluded himself here in the Qilian Mountains, living as if untouched by the affairs of the world. The Moonlit Melody of the Frozen Lake is a relic left behind by the Fairy of Jade. In those years, she—Du Ruoyao—and your master were known as the unrivaled pair of lyre and sword, their mastery of music unparalleled. This Moonlit Melody was the final piece she composed, the quintessence of her art. Even your name is derived from that very melody!"

As the Butterfly recounted this tale, there seemed nothing particularly unusual about it—after all, she was merely a third party, her words uncolored by personal feeling. If anything, there was a clear note of admiration in her voice whenever she spoke of Du Ruoyao. At this very moment, however, the heart of Hantan Yi was in utter turmoil.

The names—the Moonlit Melody of the Frozen Lake, the Fairy of Jade—were all entirely foreign to him. The Celestial Sage was ever inscrutable, never speaking of the past before others, and Hantan Yi had never thought to ask. Since childhood, he had taken it for granted that the old man was a bachelor, aloof and unbothered by worldly strife. It had never crossed his mind that there might be such a story hidden beneath the surface. Suddenly, a sense of dread welled up in him. If things were as Butterfly said, then the old man’s hatred for the Blue Lotus Cult must run deep indeed. If he were to discover that Shui Lianhua still lived, what then?

“Though the Celestial Sage knows little of music, this Moonlit Melody is, after all, the relic of his deceased wife. He cherishes it deeply, and asking him to part with it would be no easy thing. That is why I do not wish to force you. If it can be obtained, all the better; if not, then let fate decide as it will.” Whatever thoughts might have been stirring in Hantan Yi’s heart, Butterfly was oblivious. The young man, at this moment, could only choose silence, his mind tangled and uncertain. She, meanwhile, assumed his struggle was simply reluctance to grant her request—something she had anticipated. Gently pushing open the door, she stepped inside, leaving behind only her words, which continued to echo in his ears.

When a person’s heart is weighed down, happiness is hard to come by. Already troubled, Hantan Yi felt this burden grow still heavier as he made his way back. Every step he took was slow, so slow that a journey which should have taken a quarter of an hour ended up consuming more than half. Fortunately, the weather was beautiful; after the lingering chill of dawn, the sun rose from the far east, scattering its rays through the leaves in patches of light. When the sunlight touched his body, he felt a rare warmth—nature’s own gift. The changing seasons, the passing years, the ever-shifting tapestry of mountains and forests—all of it seemed a reflection of the human heart: rising and falling, ebbing and flowing, only thus lending the world its poetry and beauty.

“Senior brother, what’s wrong with you?” A clear, ringing voice called out suddenly. Perhaps lost in thought, Hantan Yi had not noticed anyone ahead of him; the shout snapped him back to reality. Only then did he realize that Qiu Wan’er, that little imp, was standing on a nearby slope, hands on her hips, lips pursed in mock anger. Of course, she wasn’t truly upset—this was simply her way. Hantan Yi, more than anyone else in the Qilian Mountains, understood her temperament. A little coaxing, a quick apology, and she’d be all smiles again. But today, he simply did not have the heart for it.

Not in the mood, he didn’t even want to speak. He merely looked at Qiu Wan’er, letting her react as she pleased, though he did quicken his pace a little—now that he’d snapped out of his reverie, he couldn’t possibly go on as he had before. Soon, he was in front of her, casting only a brief glance her way, saying not a word, nor even pausing in his stride. He simply walked on, leaving Qiu Wan’er stamping her foot in annoyance, shouting after him, “Senior brother, Hantan Yi! Stop right there! Don’t you dare give me that long face! Even if that Butterfly put you in a foul mood, there’s no need to take it out on me! Do you hear me? Stop right now!”

No matter how she yelled, Hantan Yi showed no sign of stopping, his steps unwavering. This only made Qiu Wan’er’s irritation burn hotter. Biting her lip, she summoned her spiritual energy and darted forward with unexpected speed—faster than she’d ever managed before. In just a few leaps, she was blocking Hantan Yi’s path. The narrow mountain trail was hardly wide enough for one to pass; now, with a sudden boulder-like obstruction, it was nearly impassable. One would have to squeeze sideways to get by at all, and now, with her standing firm, there was no getting past. At last, Hantan Yi stopped, his gaze falling on her face, confused. “Junior sister, what are you doing here? Don’t block the way, all right?”

His reaction was more than a little strange, especially to Qiu Wan’er, who had clearly seen him pass by her only moments ago, and now it was as if he hadn’t noticed her at all. It was as though he were deliberately ignoring her. Qiu Wan’er, proud by nature, found this intolerable, and dug in her heels all the more, her next words tinged with challenge. “Well, well, Hantan Yi, keep up the act! Let’s see how long you can keep pretending!”

Now it was the young man’s turn to be bewildered. He stared at the girl before him, at a loss. In his eyes, Qiu Wan’er was always a little odd, willful to the core—she did as she pleased without ever needing a reason. He had learned this lesson the hard way in his youth, when he tried to challenge her and always came out the loser, and not just by a little. People do grow wiser with time, and after so many defeats, he knew there were some things and some people best left unprovoked.

With this in mind, Hantan Yi didn’t bother to argue. What good would it do to quarrel with an unreasonable girl? No matter how many thoughts or plans he had, it was better to keep them to himself for now. A reluctant smile crept onto his face—perhaps, for this very reason, it looked almost grotesque. Even his words became unusually cautious, as if afraid of provoking her. “Who would dare make our little junior sister so angry? They must be tired of living. Tell your brother who it is, and I’ll be sure to teach him a lesson. If he still won’t repent, I’ll twist his head off and give it to you to use as a ball!”

He spoke with such solemn conviction, it was almost believable. Of course, this was just a tactic; it worked wonders on someone like Qiu Wan’er. Sure enough, seeing Hantan Yi’s exaggerated display, her anger softened visibly, though she wasn’t about to let him off so easily. She pointed her finger at him and said, “It’s this clueless fellow who offended me. You give him a good thrashing, and see if he dares to cross me again!”

Ah, Hantan Yi truly was her match; the moment she spoke, the opportunity for playful banter opened up. Without hesitation, he wrapped his hands around his own neck, pretending to twist it off, then tossed it aside with a dramatic flourish, as if throwing it to the ground. With a look of great satisfaction, he glared in that direction, putting on a show of righteous indignation. “There you go, Hantan Yi! See if you dare anger our little junior sister again. I’ll give you a good kicking to let her vent her anger!”

With that, he even mimed a few kicks. Though the ground was empty, his performance was flawless, complete with shouted insults. The sight was so comical that Qiu Wan’er, who had been struggling to hold back, could endure no longer. A giggle burst from her lips, instantly dispelling the oppressive air and driving away all traces of gloom.