Still Secretly In Love With My Enemy Today - Chapter 12

Chapter 12: 

 

Even after returning to the Linlang Pavilion that night, I was still dwelling on it.

 

—Just why did Xie Huaishuang want me to stay?

 

During the hour of the Monkey (3–5 PM), a young woman arrived. She had willow-leaf brows and a face as delicate as a hibiscus. When I opened the door, she grew instinctively wary—she didn’t let it show on her face, but her hand gripping a small porcelain vial tightened visibly.

 

I was still muddled with thoughts of Xie Huaishuang. I looked her over. “What is it?”

 

“I… Can I see him?” Her gaze dropped, darting around. “If… if it’s not possible, then…”

 

I stepped aside. Xie Huaishuang had already sensed someone’s presence and felt his way over.

 

“Someone’s here for you,” I said, deliberately keeping my distance from him. “A woman, mole at the corner of her eye. Do you want to see her?”

 

Xie Huaishuang nodded. “Sister Chunhua?”

 

He had told me on the road yesterday that the backbone of the other women in Linlang Pavilion was a person named Chunhua. I moved out of the way and closed the door as a breeze carrying the scent of perfume swept past.

 

I caught a glimpse of the woman looking Xie Huaishuang up and down. She tapped the medicine vial against his hand a few times. Only after receiving his permission did her long, vermilion-painted nails write light, quick characters onto his open palm.

 

Why so cautious? Was Xie Huaishuang really that terrifying? He was just a bit ruthless in his strikes, a bit cold in his expression, and exceptionally loathsome, that’s all.

 

I stood to the side. I didn’t know what she wrote, but I saw Xie Huaishuang shake his head.

 

“The medicine has been applied; it’s no trouble. This person is… an old acquaintance.”

 

Did he just call me an “old acquaintance”?

 

Chunhua shot me a quick look, a hint of astonishment appearing in her eyes. Xie Huaishuang, beside her, showed no reaction, maintaining his usual indifferent air.

 

“Is it that person again tonight?” He lowered his eyes, waiting for Chunhua to finish writing before saying, “That’s not too bad, then.”

 

He seemed very familiar with her; he had already ignored me for three sentences.

 

“Don’t worry about me, just get some good rest.”

 

Four sentences.

 

“Rest assured, he… he is different from others. Nothing will happen while I am with him.”

 

Five sentences. But at least he finally remembered me.

 

Chunhua hesitated, left the porcelain vial on the table, and stood up to explain to me: “This is some topical medicine… may I leave it here for him?”

 

She had to ask about such a small thing? Did I really look that fierce and difficult to talk to?

 

I nodded, meaning whatever, it has nothing to do with me. Xie Huaishuang also stood up. “I’m fine. It won’t delay our matter.”

 

Chunhua stood still, looking at Xie Huaishuang, then at me.

 

“He… well, he won’t do anything to me either.”

 

I snorted inwardly. Describing me as so harmless—did he think I didn’t dare do anything to him? I was just momentarily muddled these past two days.

 

But Chunhua actually seemed to believe his words; she left the key figure of their plan here with me quite peacefully.

 

Xie Huaishuang closed the door and came over to me. “That was Chunhua, the one I mentioned… She looks after the others.”

 

“There is someone,” he continued, “who comes at dusk to pay ten taels, saying it’s the ‘flower-buying money’ for Sister Chunhua’s night, but they never actually show up. Tonight was the same.”

 

“What’s that person after?”

 

“I don’t know.” Xie Huaishuang shook his head. “Anyway, she had some free time, so she came to check on me. As for what they’re after? I don’t know.”

 

Xie Huaishuang actually had a very striking, vivid beauty, yet he seemed oblivious to it, always maintaining an expression as steady as frost and snow.

 

Except, perhaps because the halo of the lamp made things look a bit surreal, when he rambled on like this, those deep green eyes fell on me, and for a split second, I inexplicably sensed something different.

 

—I must have seen it wrong.

 

Chunhua stayed for less than fifteen minutes. After those few words, Xie Huaishuang went back to rummaging through things, leaving me sitting at the table to resume my brooding.

 

—Why did Xie Huaishuang want me to stay?

 

The blueprints were spread out beside me, but I couldn’t bring myself to set the pen down; it only cast a long shadow under the light.

 

Xie Huaishuang was holding a small carving knife, etching the terrain he had scouted today onto a wooden board he’d found somewhere. Scritch, scratch. The sound was intermittent.

 

I decided I had to ask him clearly. Just as I sat down beside him, he held up the wooden board for me to see. “Take a look. Is there any mistake?”

 

…Always so good at ordering people around.

 

I took it and saw that the terrain he had carved was indeed flawless. I couldn’t help but look at him again.

 

No wonder I had been evenly matched with him all these years. This man was truly terrifying. Who could tell that he was currently blind and deaf?

 

“No mistakes.”

 

I brushed away the wood shavings and handed it back, watching as he carefully put it away.

 

I estimated the distance, sat back a little further, and after a moment of thought, wrote in his hand: “I…”

 

“I have something to ask you.”

 

His voice rang out almost simultaneously. My fingers froze. To have him voice my own intent before I could was both annoying and slightly funny.

 

Xie Huaishuang also felt me writing in his hand. He shook his head and extended his hand a bit further. “You go first.”

 

The lamp shadows flickered in his eyes. His gaze was fixed on me, but since he couldn’t actually see, it lacked focus, carrying a sense of vacancy.

 

Was I really overthinking this?

 

The moment I thought of it, my mind became a mess again, as if hundreds of levers and gears had started operating at once. My fingertips rose and fell, but in the end, I wrote: “You go first.”

 

Xie Huaishuang looked a bit confused. He stared at me for a moment and asked softly: “You don’t seem to be talking much tonight.”

 

So he noticed.

 

It wasn’t that I wasn’t talking tonight; it was that I had talked too much before. I had come to my senses; I had to keep my distance. I couldn’t get too close.

 

So, I only told him: “Nothing to say.”

 

Xie Huaishuang tilted his head, lost in thought. After a while, he spoke again slowly.

 

“Then, can I see… and feel your sword again?”

 

My instinct was to refuse, but meeting his eyes, my fingertips paused. When they dropped, I just tapped twice.

 

It was just a look; he couldn’t figure out the real secrets of the trade anyway.

 

This time I had brought out the newly improved Cloud-Slaying Blade, specifically designed to deal with him—stronger power, more ferocious.

 

I had imagined the blade clashing against his own, severing his pearl veils, or even drawing his blood. But I never imagined it would be like this, reflecting the flickering candlelight between his porcelain-white fingers.

 

“How do you build this—starting from a single piece of iron?”

 

I grew instantly alert—was he trying to fish for my secrets? My technology was far superior to that of their Temple.

 

If Xie Huaishuang were to use a weapon I built, I definitely wouldn’t be able to beat him.

 

“Just the usual processes: smelting, forging, and installing the mechanisms,” I replied cautiously. “Nothing special.”

 

Xie Huaishuang didn’t press further. He just slid two fingers across the icy surface of the blade, fell silent for a moment, and then raised his eyes.

 

“Only the processes you mentioned, right?” He stared at me unblinkingly. “No divine power required, and no… nothing else?”

 

“Yes.”

 

I had always thought the Temple only used “divine power” to trick outsiders; I didn’t realize they had actually fooled their own people too.

 

“Nothing else is needed.”

 

I told him this, then felt it wasn’t clear enough. I don’t know why I wanted to explain it to him so badly, but I took his sleeve and guided him through the components one by one, explaining the simplest principles.

 

“It has power only because of the black iron, the steam, and my skill. It has nothing to do with divine power.”

 

Xie Huaishuang’s brow slowly furrowed as he listened. I remembered that the Temple always used “divine power” to explain forces that came from nature and humanity. Weapons gained immense strength because of the God of Xiling; the Kite-Mechs could fly because of the God of Xiling; the copper lamps stayed lit for so long without a candle because of the God of Xiling.

 

Clumsy lies. I always found it stupid and incomprehensible. I had once gone to ask my Senior Sister, and she didn’t understand either, so she took me to ask the City Lord.

 

The City Lord was wearing her glass lenses, polishing a part in her hand. She didn’t look up, only saying: “Because there are always people who want to be gods themselves.”

 

“But can they really fool people like that? None of us believe it.”

 

“You don’t believe it,” the City Lord spared a glance for us, “but what about those who know nothing of these things?”

 

“If they know nothing, can’t they learn?”

 

The City Lord shook her head. “The Temple will ensure they remain ignorant.”

 

“But surely someone will find out eventually?”

 

“Those who find out… where do you think they can go?”

 

I watched Xie Huaishuang as he focused intently on feeling the Cloud-Slaying Blade, and I suddenly recalled that long-ago conversation.

 

He seemed truly curious about this thing.

 

“But with just these things, how can there be such power?”

 

It wouldn’t hurt to tell him a little. So, I took his sleeve and let him feel the hilt. “There’s a gear set inside—do you know what that is?”

 

Xie Huaishuang remained silent. Seeing his blank look, I knew the answer, so I traced a general shape in his hand. “It looks like this. Its function is…”

 

I rarely explained these things to others. In Iron Cloud City, there was no need; outside Iron Cloud City, no one wanted to listen. I was out of practice. I wasn’t very clear in some places, and it was probably quite dry. But Xie Huaishuang listened very seriously, the lamplight dancing in his eyes.

 

I couldn’t help but ask: “What does the Temple… say? Did you never know how these things were made back at the Temple?”

 

“The Temple?” Xie Huaishuang looked up, his expression darkening slightly. “In the Temple, these are all blessings from the God of Xiling. As for the process by which ‘divine power’ is generated, I was never permitted to see it. Except for the Great Priest and the Elders… anyway, I wasn’t allowed.”

 

His tone was flat. I felt like I had discovered something.

 

“Right now, you actually…” My heart stirred as I weighed my words. “You no longer believe in this so-called ‘divine power’… you no longer believe in the God of Xiling, do you?”

 

Under the lamp, Xie Huaishuang’s features were even more distinct. He was silent for a moment, then gave a very honest nod. “Yes.”

 

The lamplight flickered, and my fingertips froze.

 

When he had asked me those questions by the river, I had sensed something, but hearing him admit it so clearly now still stunned me.

 

The main reason he and I could chase and fight each other for ten years was our opposing stances—he believed in his God of Xiling, while I believed only in tangible things, like black iron, steam, and interlocking gears.

 

Although I always called him loathsome, ignorant, and stubborn, I also knew that what a person is taught and believes from childhood is usually something they won’t betray for their entire life.

 

After all, the difficulty of betrayal is too great, and the cost is too high.

 

I was born in Iron Cloud City, and he was born in the Temple. Destiny placed us this way; no matter how unwilling or resentful we were, he and I were likely destined to spend our lives tangled as enemies.

 

And yet, the opposition I thought was indestructible had suddenly vanished like smoke. How could he say such a thing now?

 

“You think this way,” I mused for a long time, “because the Temple… reduced you to this state?”

 

That was the only reason I could think of.

 

Xie Huaishuang was taken aback, then suddenly smiled. The frost melted by half an inch; the magnolia swayed under the lamp.

 

“What if I said it wasn’t?” He set down the Cloud-Slaying Blade, which made a soft clinking sound on the table. “Or rather, it’s the other way around.”

 

Before I could ask further, he continued: “You asked me before who ‘reduced’ me to this state, right?”

 

I held my breath and tapped his hand twice. I heard him speak slowly.

 

“It was of my own seeking.”

 

He said nothing more after that, only tapping his fingertip rhythmically on the table.

 

The night was deep, and all was quiet. A thousand, ten thousand questions immediately surged in my mind.

 

—He no longer believes in the God of Xiling. He said he won’t return to be a Priest. He even said it was of his own seeking. Why would he say and do such things?

 

—If he wasn’t lying, what did this mean?

 

I instinctively tried to stop myself from overthinking, but I couldn’t help leaning in a bit closer to look at the flickering candlelight in his eyes.

 

What if… we weren’t on opposite sides?

 

I had so many questions I was dying to ask, but seeing him like this, I knew he wouldn’t say more tonight. If this man didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t let a single syllable slip.

 

I stared at him, but I couldn’t stare out an answer. I could only tell myself that for all my questions, there was always tomorrow.

 

The things he refused to tell me yesterday, he told me today. By the same logic, the things he refused to say today, he might say tomorrow.

 

I knew this logic wasn’t exactly rigorous, but it served its purpose in tricking me into not pressing further.

 

“Medicine,” I wrote in his hand. “Then sleep.”

 

During the day, Xie Huaishuang had found another mattress from somewhere in the room. My spot on the floor would be more respectable tonight—something to look forward to.

 

—I had felt that mattress; it was very soft. I had even aired it in the sun for a long time. When I brought it back, it had that warm, cozy scent of sunlight.

 

Xie Huaishuang had suggested it, saying he’d seen others do it. I usually just tossed things into a warm air box; it was my first time doing something that seemed so useless. But feeling it now, it actually felt quite nice—just a little bit nice.

 

That loathsome Xie Huaishuang surely didn’t know that I had already aired all the bedding in the sun during the day. I wouldn’t tell him until he explained what he meant just now.