Guanshan Muyu

Chapter 1

The doors and windows of the teahouse were closed tightly, oil lamps scattered on the ground, no longer emitting a trace of light.

Archers with torches surrounded the place outside.

Qi Yan’s profile was illuminated with the dancing firelight, his features blurry.

“Did you bring these people?” he asked.

Xia Xun’s heartbeat was too fast, his breathing irregular.

“…yes.”

He gritted his teeth, clenching the short dagger hidden in his sleeve.

He tried to find anger or hostility on Qi Yan’s face, just like then when he cut off his father’s head with his own hands.

Qi Yan’s expression did not change in the slightest. He was still gazing at him with what might be called deep affection.

He said to Xia Xun, “Are you going to kill me?”

He took a step forward.

Xia Xun said sharply: “Don’t come over!”

He was so nervous that his voice was off pitch.

“Let me go! Otherwise, the archers outside the house will — what are you doing?”

Qi Yan didn’t stop, walking towards him step by step.

“You heard what I said!” Xia Xun’s tone was so harsh that he himself felt frightened, “Don’t come over!”

Qi Yan didn’t listen and walked slowly, stepping on the broken porcelain.

Xia Xun had to step back until he hit the pillar in the center of the teahouse.

He could actually bypass the pillar and continue backing off but he was too panicked. His legs were soft and didn’t obey him.

The pieces of porcelain shattered into fine dust under the soles of Qi Yan’s boots. He was already in front of Xia Xun.

“Let you go, and then what?”

His gaze was fixed on Xia Xun as he said every word very slowly:

“Just leave me here, to live in heartache and remorse every day and use all my strength to find things related to you, even the tiniest clues? Let me plead to Heaven every night, begging for your soul to enter my dreams even for half a moment?”

His brows were furrowed, his voice trembling, his eyes red, as if he was the most besotted man in the world, and Xia Xun failed him, forcing him into sorrow and despair.

“I have lived like this for seven years, and life… was worse than death.”

Qi Yan clutched the clothes on his heart, the expensive fabric crumpled into a ball, the pattern woven with golden silk messy.

His eyes were full of madness.

“I won’t let you go. As long as I am alive, I will never let you go.”

Xia Xun almost believed it; believed that what QiYan said was true, that he really loved him.

The last time he believed Qi Yan, Xia Xun’s family was ruined.

This time he had nothing, nothing to lose.

He clenched the handle of the dagger.

He finally found an opportunity to get out; he had to make Qi Yan let him go.

“Stop talking.” Xia Xun drew the dagger and held it in front of him: “Let me go.”

Qi Yan ignored it and slowly approached Xia Xun until the blade of the dagger was pressed against his chest.