Since that night, the atmosphere between Lin Xi and Li Chengyan was no longer the same.
They didn’t speak. They rarely even met each other’s gaze. But A Qiao—always keen on details—noticed that despite their seeming indifference, they secretly watched each other.
Li Chengyan would glance over whenever Lin Xi dismounted her horse and adjusted her sash. Lin Xi would unconsciously hold her breath when she heard his footsteps approaching from behind.
A Qiao wanted to ask, but every time she opened her mouth, Lin Xi would simply say, “It’s not important,” and look away.
The journey from Shancheng back to Jingzhou was a long one. The caravan had to find a temporary campsite before the storm rolled in. But that night, the weather turned abruptly—rain poured down in torrents, the ground turned to slippery mud, and the wind howled like a starving wolf.
When the main carriage slipped and one of its wheels got stuck between stones near the Black Stone Cliff, panic spread. The location was too narrow and treacherous to hold for long.
“I’ll handle it,” Li Chengyan said firmly, without hesitation.
Lin Xi wanted to stop him—her mouth half-open—but the stone-faced man had already moved, descending the narrow path toward the jammed wheel. Rain lashed his face, and the rocks beneath him were slick and unstable.
Then it happened—a sharp crack of stone. Li Chengyan lost his footing and slipped.
He fell.
The world went still, as if holding its breath.
Li Chengyan managed to catch a thick tree root dangling from the cliff. His body hung, swaying in the wind and rain. The root strained, groaning under his weight.
“Xiao Bai!”
Lin Xi’s voice tore through the storm.
Her words were unclear, drowned by the wind—but her scream was raw, filled with the emotion bursting from within.
She ran—without thought, instinct taking over. Her knees scraped against sharp rocks, her arm bled, her soaked hair clung to her face. She threw herself onto the edge of the cliff and reached out for him.
Their hands nearly touched.
But the weight, the slope, and the slick stones made it nearly impossible. Lin Xi clung desperately to the ground, her fingers raw, reaching for his.
“Watch out!” Guards rushed to pull Lin Xi back, keeping her from slipping off the edge.
Her body trembled. Her shoulders shook as she resisted the hands holding her back.
Their eyes met. No words were spoken.
Only Lin Xi’s reddened eyes… and Li Chengyan’s steady gaze—one that looked at her as if trying to memorize her face one last time.
The root creaked.
Li Chengyan shook his head slowly.
Lin Xi’s hands clenched the muddy earth—her small, bloodied hands refusing to let go of hope. But the soil crumbled. She, too, was close to falling.
For the first time, Li Chengyan smiled—as if to say, “That’s enough.”
The root snapped.
His body fell into the mist-shrouded chasm below.
Lin Xi screamed, reaching—but only empty air met her grasp, her fingers slick with blood.
Gone.
No sound of impact.
No echo.
Only mist swallowed him whole.
Lin Xi froze at the cliff’s edge. Her trembling hand clenched in vain. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Rain drenched her mercilessly—but her tears burned hotter than the sky’s fury.
No one spoke.
The guards stood behind her in silence.
Lin Xi called out again.
But there was no reply.
No figure returned.
Only landslide debris and the howling wind answered her desperation.
She was silent. She shook, her body weak.
Her heart churned with disbelief, regret, and emptiness. It had all happened so fast.
“The last thing I said to him... we argued,” she whispered, barely audible.
“I didn’t even get to thank him… or say sorry.”
A Qiao, watching with a heart full of sorrow, gently placed a hand on her mistress’s shoulder.
---
Three days of uncertainty weighed heavily on Lin Xi’s heart. After waiting at the cliff with no sign of him, she finally chose to move on—though the ache of loss lingered. Xiao Bai—who had silently protected and walked beside her—was now a vanished shadow swallowed by the fog.
Still, the journey had to continue. Her fate awaited her in the capital.
Though filled with sorrow and guilt, Lin Xi returned with quiet strength.
Upon arriving in Jingzhou, a strange silence greeted her at the Wei residence.
Not just tension—but the feeling of a wind about to shift.
Wei Jian, Su Wanrong, Wei Min, and Wei Junlin—all present in the main hall—awaited her. The elders, too, had gathered, looking eager to hear her report on the trade mission.
Lin Xi took a deep breath before stepping in.
The Wei family—who had long pressed their expectations on her—was now watching with intense anticipation.
But this time, she didn’t feel pressured.
She felt strong.
Her success in Shancheng was proof that she could stand on her own, even under heavy burdens.
That day, the family’s meeting hall was crowded with elders and important figures.
The scent of warm tea mingled with old parchment.
In the center, "Wei Lianhua"—who was truly Lin Xi—sat poised and calm, dressed in a simple earth-toned robe embroidered with the Wei crest.
Though her face was serene, her gaze was sharp.
Before her lay scrolls of trade records and a map of the Shancheng region.
Wei Jian began with a heavy, proud voice. “My daughter, tell the elders what you’ve accomplished on your journey to Shancheng.”
One of the elders, Elder Zuo, interjected—his tone gentle but probing.
“We’ve heard this trade caravan turned quite the profit. But how? Isn’t Shancheng just an agricultural city?”
Lin Xi unrolled the map, pointing to the Yongshui Delta—a fertile region on Shancheng’s outskirts.
“Yes, Elder. But precisely because Shancheng is a grain hub, they constantly face surplus and have trouble distributing it. When we arrived, their storehouses were nearly full and grain prices had collapsed.”
“And you…?”
“I proposed a barter collaboration and a new distribution system,” Lin Xi replied steadily.
“We exchanged surplus grain for farming tools from Longxuan—light steel hoes, sickles, and transport carts. But that wasn’t the key.”
Everyone leaned in.
Waiting.