Winter's iron grip was finally beginning to loosen its hold on the valley. The brutal northern winds, which had once howled like a wounded beast against the mountainside, had softened into a gentle, cool breeze. On the rare afternoons when the sun broke through the gray clouds, the thick blankets of snow on the rooftops began to weep, turning into rhythmic drips that signaled the coming spring. The once-treacherous, icy roads had transformed into a landscape of slushy, brown paths, heavy with the weight of melting ice.
Three months had passed since the harrowing night at the Yueguang branch. Life had settled into a fragile, precious peace within their small home.
That morning, Mu Dishi and Ma Jingguo set out for the nearby town to restock their dwindling food supplies. The air was still crisp enough to bite at their cheeks, and their breath puffed out in small, white clouds as they walked side by side. During this late stage of winter, the town was a quiet, desolate shadow of its summer self; outdoor vendors were a rare sight, and those who did brave the cold were huddled deep within their furs, their stalls offering only the hardiest of root vegetables and dried meats.
Ma Jingguo adjusted the heavy basket on his shoulder, glancing sideways at Mu Dishi. The scholar looked as ethereal as ever, his white robes a stark contrast to the muddy slush of the road, yet there was a new stillness in him—a quiet acceptance that hadn't been there before the incident.
"The wind is kind today, Xiao shushu," Ma Jingguo remarked, his voice warm. "Perhaps we should buy some extra wine for the evening?"
Mu Dishi didn't answer immediately, his eyes scanning the quiet street with the practiced caution of a man who knew that peace was often just a mask for the next storm.
The slush crunched beneath Ma Jingguo's boots as he navigated the small cluster of stalls. A few hardy vendors, desperate for coin after a long winter, had braved the damp cold to display their wares. Ma Jingguo paused at a stall piled with surprisingly vibrant greens, his hand hovering over the produce.
"Can you lower the price a bit?" he asked, looking at the vendor. "The winter has been long for all of us."
"We had to haul these fresh vegetables through miles of mountain slush," the vendor countered, shaking his head. "The price is firm. If you aren't buying, move along so someone else can."
"Fine, fine," Ma Jingguo conceded with a small sigh. He handed over the copper, lifting the wooden crate and settling it onto their small transport wagon.
He stood back, ticking items off a mental list. "Fresh veggies, rice, oil, salt, pork, and beef... Xiao shushu, I feel like I'm forgetting something vital."
"Wine," Mu Dishi said simply, his voice a cool breeze behind him.
Ma Jingguo's face split into a wide, genuine smile. "You know me best. Let's stop at the inn for the jars, and then we can get back before the roads freeze over again."
When they stepped into the warmth of the local inn, the smell of roasted meat and cheap wine greeted them. Wang Niu, the innkeeper's boy, brightened immediately upon seeing them. He hurried over, his grin nearly splitting his face.
"Ma-ge! Back for your usual stock?"
"You guessed it," Ma Jingguo replied.
"How many jars this time?"
"Give me ten. It's still a long way to spring."
While Ma Jingguo directed Wang Niu and two other waiters to carefully secure the heavy ceramic jars onto the wagon outside, Mu Dishi stepped toward the register. He moved with a quiet elegance that always made the rowdy tavern goers lower their voices, his slender fingers producing the coins to settle the bill.
However, the silence didn't last. In a dimly lit corner, two Tianshan disciples were nursing bowls of wine, their voices carrying through the room.
"It's a crying shame," the first disciple murmured, shaking his head. "Someone as beautiful as Miss Kuo... to think she'd throw it all away to become a nun."
"Can you blame her?" the second disciple whispered back, leaning in. "Would you want to marry her now? Knowing that she and that scholar might have... you know...?"
"In a heartbeat," the first retorted. "Being the son-in-law of Master Kuo is a prize regardless of the gossip."
Ma Jingguo re-entered the inn just as the words landed. He froze for a fraction of a second, his hand tightening on the doorframe, before moving to stand beside Mu Dishi at the register. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, but the voices followed him.
"I've heard she was a rare beauty," the first disciple continued, oblivious to their audience. "She's left the Jinfeng Sect entirely. They say she's joined the Emei Sect."
"I heard the same," the second added. "Even in those plain gray robes and a shaved head, they say her beauty still shines through. What a waste."
The air in the inn felt suddenly stifling. Ma Jingguo didn't look at the disciples; he didn't want to see the pity or the judgment in their eyes if they recognized him. He turned to the man at his side, his voice low and urgent.
"Xiao shushu... let's go."
Outside, the world was turning white. The light dusting of snow had begun to thicken, cloaking the slushy roads in a deceptive purity. Ma Jingguo, wanting to spare Mu Dishi the damp chill of the road, lifted him with practiced ease and settled him atop the wagon. As he leaned into the weight of the cart, the silence between them was broken by Mu Dishi's quiet, observant voice.
"Jingguo, you heard the two Tianshan disciples."
"Yes." Ma Jingguo's response was short, focused on the strain of the wheels.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes."
Mu Dishi watched the back of Ma Jingguo's head, knowing the "yes" was a shield. He could see it in the tension of the younger man's shoulders—the lingering poison of guilt that no medicinal broth could ever fully wash away. Ma Jingguo still carried the burden of Changchang's ruined reputation as if he had held the knife himself.
As they neared the edge of town, a line of ten figures appeared through the haze of the falling snow. They walked with a rhythmic, serene pace, their gray robes fluttering in the wind. Recognizing them as nuns, Ma Jingguo instinctively pushed the wagon to the muddy shoulder of the road to grant them passage.
As they drew closer, Ma Jingguo's heart skipped a beat. The fourth nun in the procession stopped. Her head was shaved, her face pale and devoid of makeup, yet her eyes held a clarity that had been missing for years.
It was Kuo Changchang.
She spoke a few soft words to the lead nun, who nodded and continued on with the others, leaving her standing alone before the wagon.
"Benefactor Ma," she greeted him, her voice calm and steady.
"Shijie... why?" Ma Jingguo asked, his voice cracking with a sudden, sharp grief. "Why did you choose this?"
"I have found my peace," she replied simply.
Ma Jingguo looked at her, his eyes brimming with sorrow. "Is this because of me? Because of what happened in that room?"
Kuo Changchang offered him a smile—not the flirtatious or desperate smile of the girl she once was, but something deeper. "Yes and no," she said. She glanced at Mu Dishi, who watched from his seat on the wagon, and gave him a respectful nod before returning her gaze to Ma Jingguo.
"At first, I sought the Emei Sect to hide. I wanted to disappear from the whispers and the shame. But Nun Chingmei saw through me. She told me if I only wanted to escape gossip, the temple doors would remain closed to me. She told me to stay for a month and truly study the teachings of Guanyin."
She took a breath, the cold air seemingly revitalizing her. "In that month, I realized the peace I felt wasn't from hiding—it was from understanding. I am not a nun because I am embarrassed. You and I, we are innocent. As long as we are true to ourselves, and as long as Heaven knows our hearts, the whispers of men are just wind. Do not carry a burden that does not exist, benefactor Ma. Do not blame yourself for my freedom."
"Shijie, I am so sorry," Ma Jingguo whispered.
"There is no need for apologies," she said softly. "I chose this path willingly. I wish you both the best. From this moment on, I am no longer your Shijie. I am Nun Ziyou. Goodbye."
She tucked her hands into her wide sleeves to ward off the cold and turned, walking toward the Tianshan Sect to rejoin her sisters.
Ma Jingguo watched her until she was a mere gray shadow in the white. He felt a lightness in his chest he hadn't felt in months. He turned to the man on the wagon and smiled, a real, unburdened smile. "Let us go home."
"Mm-," Mu Dishi murmured. He hopped down from the wagon, the silk of his robes rustling. He opened a wide paper umbrella, stepping close to Ma Jingguo to hold it over both of them as the snowflakes grew large and heavy, falling from a darkening gray sky.
The morning arrived with a clarity that felt like a gift. The heavy snow from the day before had settled into a brilliant, silent white, and the rising sun hung low and bright in the sky, pouring golden warmth over the mountain landscape.
Ma Jingguo sat across from Mu Dishi in the small, open pavilion in front of their home. As he watched the steam rise from his tea into the crisp air, he felt a lightness he hadn't known in years. The encounter with Nun Ziyou had washed away the last of his shadows; the guilt that had once weighed him down like lead had vanished with the yesterday's snow. The new sun brought a brand-new day, and for the first time, he felt truly worthy of the peace they had found.
The soft clink of chopsticks against porcelain was the only sound in the quiet morning.
"I wonder what I will find today?" Ma Jingguo mused, his voice bright, reflecting the golden light around them.
"I think we have enough food for the winter," Mu Dishi replied, his gaze fixed on the snow-capped peaks. "In three months, spring will arrive, and we can head back home."
Ma Jingguo looked at him earnestly. "Xiao shushu, this is our home, too. I don't want you to be locked away inside that cave anymore."
"I like it there," Mu Dishi said, though his voice lacked its usual frost. "It is the only thing Uncle Long left for me."
"I understand," Ma Jingguo said softly.
"Besides," Mu Dishi added, "your parents were buried there."
Ma Jingguo's face lit up with a grateful smile, his eyes shining in the sunlight. "Thank you, Xiao shushu."
"For what?"
"For not calling my parents dogs."
The peace was absolute—a perfect moment of reconciliation. But in the next heartbeat, the golden light was shredded. Mu Dishi's gaze suddenly snapped past Ma Jingguo's shoulder, his pupils contracting into pinpoints. A dark, whistling cloud of arrows eclipsed the sun, flying directly at the pavilion.
Mu Dishi moved with the speed of a strike of lightning. He flipped the heavy dining table between them, using it as a wooden shield against the hail of steel. But the pavilion was open on all sides, and as the table slammed down, a stray arrow hissed through the gap, piercing Mu Dishi's upper left arm.
"Xiao shushu," Ma Jingguo gasped, his breath hitching. His world narrowed until he could see nothing but the dark, spreading stain of blood against Mu Dishi's light blue robes—a color that should have represented the clear sky, now marred by violence.
"Don't touch it," Mu Dishi said, his voice strained and tight. "These are poisonous arrows."
"Mu Dishi, if I were you, I would stop using my internal energy. The more you circulate your qi, the faster you will die! Ha... ha... ha!" Mo Ehuang's voice rang out from the periphery of the pavilion, shrill with triumph. "Father, look down from heaven! Watch as I kill Mu Dishi and finally avenge you!"
"Mo Ehuang, give me the antidote!" Ma Jingguo roared, his hand white-knuckled on the hilt of his dagger.
"I don't have it!" she laughed, the sound jagged and wild. "The Yueguang Sect didn't give me anything else. I only paid for the arrows—they provide the death; I provide the target!"
"Jingguo," Mu Dishi said quickly, his eyes scanning the horizon even as his face paled. "She likely has no more arrows. The Yueguang Sect is not known for giving antidotes to their buyers. Prepare yourself."
"Whoever cuts off Mu Dishi's head will lead the Mo Clan!" Mo Ehuang shouted to the forest.
Suddenly, the quiet morning was shattered as hundreds of men emerged from the treeline, surrounding the small house.
"When using Wuming, remember what I've taught you," Mu Dishi commanded.
Ma Jingguo leaned down, pressing a final, desperate kiss to Mu Dishi's forehead. "I understand. Wait for me."
Ma Jingguo vaulted from the pavilion, a streak of fury flying toward the front line of enemies. But as he fought, more shadows surged from behind the house, charging directly at the seated Mu Dishi.
Mu Dishi didn't flinch. He used his internal energy and forced the poison arrow out from his flesh. He withdrew two golden needles, driving them into his own pressure points to slow the toxin's crawl. He donned his metal gloves and retrieved his golden bells. Sitting cross-legged on the frozen ground, he pulled the bells apart with a violent snap.
A massive, invisible crescent of guzheng energy erupted. It tore through the air with a shriek. In an instant, the charging crowd and the kitchen wall behind them were sliced clean in half. The back of the house collapsed in a cloud of splinters and dust.
Mu Dishi pushed the table aside, his vision blurring. Through the wreckage, he saw Ma Jingguo still swarmed by ten men.
"Mu Dishi!" Mo Ehuang screamed, pointing a shaking finger. "Charge him! Kill him now!"
Ma Jingguo broke away from his opponents, a whirlwind of steel as he flew back to Mu Dishi's side. Mu Dishi unleashed one more devastating ray. It cut down the newcomers instantly, leaving only four survivors—including a severely injured Mo Ehuang—writhing in the slush.
The golden bells fell, clattering onto the stones. Mu Dishi lurched forward, spitting a mouthful of dark, viscous blood.
Ma Jingguo had never seen Mu Dishi injured. To him, the man was a god—invincible and eternal. To see him bleeding was to see the sky fall. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground.
"Xiao shushu," he stammered, his voice choked with terror. He reached out, his hands trembling too much to touch. "Let me pass some internal energy to you. Please."
"No need," Mu Dishi gasped, wracked by a cough that brought up more dark blood.
"Why?" Ma Jingguo's voice was a sob.
"It... won't help much," Mu Dishi rasped, his eyes fluttering as he fought the spreading poison.
"At least let me use my qi to stop the spread!"
"I already used the needles," Mu Dishi replied, his voice fading to a whisper.
"It's my fault... this is all my fault," Ma Jingguo sobbed, the guilt he thought he had shed yesterday returning to crush him. "If I hadn't stopped you from killing her that day, none of this would have happened."
Watching Mu Dishi squint in pain, his brow furrowed in a struggle against the poison, Ma Jingguo's heart shattered. He had cherished this man like a precious gem. To Ma Jingguo, a single strained hair on Mu Dishi's head was a crime deserving of death. How dare she make him bleed?
He snatched a poisoned arrow from the shattered table and stalked toward Mo Ehuang. He knelt beside her, the arrow's tip hovering over her throat, but he hesitated. If she died, the hope for an antidote died with her. A burning ache of regret washed over him for the mercy he had once shown.
"Mo Ehuang," he seethed, a low, dangerous growl. "I saved your life once. Now, tell me where the antidote is."
A venomous smile spread across her bloody lips. "I told you, I don't have it. You can start preparing his burial." She began to laugh maniacally. "Mu Dishi... ha... ha... you're not invincible! You bleed like everyone else!"
A cold fury, unlike anything he had ever known, consumed him. Without another word, Ma Jingguo plunged the poisoned arrow deep into her right arm.
"If he dies," he snarled into her ear, "you will die too. Slowly. You have until noon."
Ma Jingguo turned his back on her laughter. He walked back to Mu Dishi, tenderly gathering the man into his arms. He carried him toward their bedroom, leaving a trail of blood and human carnage in his wake.