Under the Moon,
In the secluded courtyard of the Shangguan family, the familiar scene unfolded once again amidst the blooming peach blossoms.
The old swing creaked and groaned; upon closer inspection, it was clear that the two hanging ropes were of different colors—likely a temporary repair made today.
Seated on the swing, Shangguan Qiuyue lifted her gaze to the moon, unaware of the youth’s arrival.
Yun Mu stood at the remote gate, watching the scene before him, feeling a strange sense of familiarity that left him momentarily dazed.
“The last time I accompanied the Miss on the swing… must have been two years ago.”
In his memories, it wasn’t the cracking whip or the pain of lashes that appeared, but the girl’s crying.
He walked over to the girl, gazing at her frail, petite figure weakened by illness, and draped his outer garment over her thin shoulders.
Though somewhat oversized, it wrapped her in warmth.
The late spring breeze stirred as the youth raised his hand, sweeping back her dark green hair—just like it had stirred his heart two years ago.
“Miss, it’s cold at night. Your body’s weak, so you should take care.”
“Mm… thank you, Xiao Mu.”
The girl wasn’t as lively as usual, nor was she startled by this sudden presence behind her; she simply swung her feet gently and pulled her clothes a little closer.
“Miss, is something troubling you?”
“Eh? No, it’s just that I just woke up not long ago, so I’m still a little dazed.”
“I see…”
Yun Mu held the rope of the swing but didn’t push it forward as usual.
He didn’t want to cause the girl harm by losing focus again.
Of course, her frail health and the cold wind were also reasons for caution.
“Ah… awake! I’m fully recharged again!”
After a long silence, Shangguan Qiuyue’s voice suddenly brightened, ethereal yet tinged with hoarseness, sounding adorable.
“Xiao Mu, did I scare you just now with my acting?”
“Hm? Miss Qiuyue, why would you say that?”
“Eh, still ‘Miss Qiuyue,’ huh? Seems like you still don’t want to call me ‘Qiuyue’?”
The girl glanced back at the youth, just like two years ago, only this time her hair didn’t dance in the breeze.
“After all, I guess… I’m not as lively as usual, am I?”
The youth instinctively lowered his head, then raised his eyes to meet the girl’s smiling face.
The blush of peach blossoms surfaced in his gaze, like falling petals caressing his soul.
“Xiao Mu, do you still remember the first time we met? I remember it clearly. Back then, you were just a little thing, wearing what looked like a light blue garment.”
She gestured at her chest.
“I still remember… you were probably only as tall as my chest is now?”
The youth nodded softly.
In his mind appeared a small figure in fluffy clothes, hiding behind the adults’ feet, sneakily peeking at her little bundle, bringing a gentle smile to his lips.
To him, the girl had been even smaller then.
“Xiao Mu, do you remember the first time we snuck out to play? Though we got caught and scolded afterward, and even got our bottoms spanked together, it was still so much fun. It’s just… not seeing the lanterns still feels a bit regretful.”
“We’ll have a chance to see them together someday.”
“Mm, yes, we will.”
The youth nodded quietly.
He remembered that snowy day well—the girl shouting,
“I’m not a dumpling! I’m not afraid of any bad people outside!”
and pulling him along on a long walk.
Though he was secretly beaten afterward, the food they shared, the sights they saw, the words they exchanged—all remained etched in his heart.
“Miss Qiuyue, I was happy that day too.”
“Oh, really, Xiao Mu? I told you—you should call me ‘Qiuyue’…”
Tick… tick…
The youth lowered his eyes, the girl’s smile blossoming in his sight.
Tears shimmered under the moonlight, trailing down her cheeks, wetting the wooden planks and mingling with the dust—soft yet piercing like thorns stabbing Yun Mu’s heart.
“Oh dear, what’s wrong with me?”
she gently wiped away the falling tears, only to receive more.
“It’s so strange, Xiao Mu, why am I suddenly crying? We’re talking about happy things, and yet I’m ruining the mood…”
In a daze, the girl was already embraced in his arms.
“Qiuyue…”
The whispered name from his lips had changed.
The girl’s pitiful appearance tore apart the shackles binding his heart, leaving only a wooden plank between them—a thin barrier that could not hide the pounding of his heart.
“Xiao Mu… you fool, why did it take you so long to call me that…”
She lightly pounded his chest, her bony frame like a withered tree.
Pausing slightly, she lowered her hands and wrapped her arms around his waist, the complaint caught in her throat.
She caressed his back, where the fabric was patched and worn, tears falling endlessly onto the worn cloth.
“Xiao Mu, you must eat more from now on. If you stay this thin, no girl will like you.”
“Xiao Mu, you mustn’t be so gloomy anymore. Girls don’t like gloomy boys.”
“Xiao Mu, I’ve secretly saved some money under that peach tree. When I’m gone, use it to buy your freedom. Go roam Jianghu, pursue your freedom. Don’t be trapped in this little courtyard.”
“Xiao Mu, the books say the world is vast. You’ll look around for me, okay?”
Tears fell like rain, streams flowing endlessly.
“…Sorry, Xiao Mu, just let me be selfish a little longer… okay? Call me ‘Qiuyue’ a few more times… okay? I’m scared… scared that I won’t hear it again in the other world… Call me ‘Qiuyue’ a few more times, please, Xiao Mu, I’m so afraid, I’m so afraid…”
Her soft whispers carried a coquettish tone, but beneath it was sorrow.
The girl had long known her body was weak, and that she was terminally ill.
At twelve years old, naive and unaware, she naturally feared death—but she feared loneliness even more.
Every time she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, the girl was making a prophecy of her own death.
A pitch-black world, where the little her had no sun, no light, no parents, and no joyful Xiao Mu in her heart.
She was afraid of this, so…
She wanted to hear Xiao Mu’s tender calls one last time, hoping that after leaving this world, accompanied by his voice and her parents’, she would find the way home once more.
“Qiuyue, don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid…”
His weary voice wrapped around her ears.
The girl closed her eyes, a faint smile lifting her lips, glistening tears hanging at the corners, her breathing growing light and soft.
Under the moon, their shadows fell side by side on the ground.
Yun Mu gently lifted the girl, glanced at the scattered peach blossoms and dappled tree shadows, and walked straight inside.
He sat at the edge of the bed, gazing at the sleeping girl’s serene face, a smile tugging at his lips.
In his mind, the kiss from a few days ago, carrying a fluttering excitement, surfaced again, coloring his cheeks red.
“Miss Qiuyue… don’t worry. Though you may no longer hear me call you ‘Qiuyue,’ you won’t be alone. The family head and the others will be with you, and you’ll meet more friends, more companions…”
“Miss Qiuyue… I heard from the master that you will open a meridian gate in the future, converse with the stars in the sky, and become a very powerful cultivator. Then you won’t have to worry about death anymore.”
“Miss Qiuyue… the master said that powerful cultivators can live for a long time—thousands of years, even tens of thousands. If that’s the case, you might forget me. Though it’s a little sad, I see it as a kind of relief. After all, I heard that those who are missed linger on the Hell Bridge. Ten thousand years is a long time—by then, my parents and the master will have scolded me enough.”
“Miss Qiuyue, time will wash away everything. I am but a passerby in your life. I was supposed to have died eight years ago. I… ah… I think I’ve said too much, sorry.”
The youth’s trembling voice carried a hint of release.
He rose and moved toward the door, softly whispering:
“If you meet my reincarnation someday, it’s better not to speak to me. After all, I won’t remember you then. What if I say something that hurts you?”
“Because then, it would make me look really bad, wouldn’t it?”
Outside, a gentle breeze stirred, scattering peach blossoms as it swept through.
It carried the youth’s thoughts on the wind, under the ever-bright moon.