Still Secretly In Love With My Enemy Today - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The room was silent, save for a copper-lattice lamp that let out a very faint “hissing” sound from time to time. I sat outside the bead curtain, my mind a complete mess.

I had pushed both windows open long ago and rolled the curtains up high to clear out the cloyingly sweet incense that filled the room.

It had rained earlier in the day, and I’d been caught in it while rushing here. Now, outside the window, the Milky Way was washed clean, and the air, carrying a hint of coolness, rolled in along with the moonlight.

—But it was useless to me. One look through the bead curtain at the silhouette veiled by the bed curtains made me turn into a steaming, disorganized mess again.

So that’s how it was. It turned out to be like this.

…How could it be like this?

I had fought him for ten years. I knew his sword—light but lethal, every strike aimed for the throat. I knew his senses—unusually sharp, always able to spot my weaknesses.

—I also knew the man. He lived in the Temple, high and mighty, with an aura like frost and snow. He never spared me an extra glance or a single word, as if there were no difference between me and the bandits, the outlaws, or the beasts he killed.

Perhaps the only difference was that I was harder to kill.

But how could…

I didn’t dare look too much at the figure behind the bead and bed curtains. Every glance felt like a tiny thorn pricking my heart, so I forced my eyes away.

I don’t believe in the God of Xiling; no one in Iron Cloud City does. But I didn’t dare say it out loud. Every time I thought of him, amidst the blood and sword-shadows, there was always a faint image of a small, emerald-green deity and a magnolia tree.

So how… how did he end up like that just now?

My heart was in turmoil. Suddenly, there was movement from behind the curtains.

I saw him bracing himself against the bed, pausing to gather strength as if trying to sit up. I stood up immediately, took two steps, and then stopped myself.

When I saw him, what would I… what should I say?

I stood there, my fingers resting on the bead curtain, ready to lift it but hesitant. I could only stare blankly at the reflection of the lamplight in one of the beads.

Seeing my former arch-enemy in such a wretched state, logically speaking, I should feel vindicated.

He had left me three scars, caused a thousand sleepless nights, and cost me countless weapon repair fees.

So, I should say: How about it? You finally have your day, too?

The thought was only halfway formed before I punched it back down. I didn’t feel vindicated. Instead, I felt an empty ache in my chest; as the night wind blew through it, it felt swollen and bitter.

Why was I like this? Was it because I was used to having someone oppose me?

Was it not just me? Were all rivals in the world like this? Maybe…

“!”

When I snapped back to my senses, I suddenly saw a pair of deep green eyes staring at me from behind the bead curtain.

—It was a very deep green, appearing almost black at first glance. They were like two bottomless pools beneath the night, radiating a ghostly chill.

My fingers trembled involuntarily, causing two strings of beads to collide with a rhythmic clink-clink-clank.

How could he still walk so silently, just like Senior Brother’s cat!

We stared at each other. Bizarrely, neither of us spoke. We just stood there facing each other across the bead curtain.

Until I realized something was wrong.

He seemed to be “looking” at me, but also not. Those deep green eyes were hazy, their gaze not truly landing anywhere.

The madam’s words suddenly surfaced in my mind. I raised my hand and waved it; seeing no reaction, I tentatively spoke: “It’s me.”

Silence.

“Do you recognize me?”

Silence.

I abruptly pulled back the bead curtain, completely blocking the lamplight. Only then did he feel something. He retreated half a step alertly, his right hand instinctively dropping to his waist.

—That was where he used to wear his sword.

Finding nothing but empty air, he was stunned for a brief moment. Then, he quickly began fumbling around the table behind him, knocking things over as he searched for something.

This was the first time I saw his face clearly.

He—or rather, Xie Huaishuang—was indeed striking. His complexion was very pale, like fine porcelain or white jade, but his expression was as if covered in frost and snow. His features held a sharp, blade-like edge, save for a sudden, startling dot of crimson rouge on his lips, which were pressed into a thin line.

…Why did I instinctively say “indeed”? I froze. I hadn’t imagined his face. Definitely not.

Why would I imagine the face of the person I hated most?

Yes, the person I hated most—the person I hated most.

I chanted to myself: Zhu Pingsheng, you hate him. You detest him. You should take this chance to settle all accounts with him, not stand here motionless while he points a hairpin at you.

This was a perfect chance to kill him.

I let go of the curtain and took a step forward.

Good, I told myself. Just like that. Press him.

Xie Huaishuang couldn’t see or hear me, but his instincts from years of sword training seemed to remain. With every step I took, I could see the suspicion on his face deepen, and his chest rose and fell more noticeably.

When I placed him on the bed earlier, I had realized that for some reason, his meridians were destroyed and his internal energy was gone. He was like a glass shell, ready to shatter at a single touch.

—Never mind a hairpin; even if I gave him a sword now, he likely couldn’t do a thing to me.

The moment this thought appeared, my chest felt tight. Those deep green eyes, drawing closer, inexplicably blurred in the moonlight and lamplight.

Don’t think about that, I told myself. Think about the repair bills you owe Senior Brother. Think about the scars that itch uncontrollably in the middle of the night. Think about how he looked on the Divine Platform, fooling the whole world.

You came for him to win, to settle the layers of old accounts from over the years, not for anything else.

Kill him, and no one will ever oppose you again. The Temple will lose an arm.

I took another step forward. Xie Huaishuang bumped into the table in the corner, and his retreating footsteps stopped.

Even though I knew he was powerless to fight back, as I got closer, that bone-deep sense of caution still spread through me.

—He is the only one who can make me feel this way. Only him.

I was right in front of him, yet I didn’t dare relax. My black leather gloves covered my knuckles—originally meant to protect my hands while crafting weapons. The hairpin barely left a mark on them before I parried it away. The silk flowers on the pin trembled as I grabbed his slender, white wrist, imprisoning it.

I studied him very cautiously.

With nowhere left to retreat, he was pressed tightly against the table behind him, his trailing sleeves a mess, looking up at me.

The candlelight cast long shadows across his face. Beneath his furrowed brows were those two deep pools. They locked onto my shoulder for a moment, narrowed, then widened. In an instant, he suddenly let out a faint, self-deprecating smirk, and the hairpin he held tightly slowly lowered.

His neck was left completely exposed before me.

There would likely never be a better chance to kill him.

I gripped my sword hilt, my palm drenched in sweat. After a long while, I had only drawn it less than half an inch.

Kill him… and there will be no one.

No one else.

…No one.

My chest throbbed. I abruptly released his wrist, looked away, and took a step back, refusing to look at the faint redness at the corners of his eyes.

…

The strings of beads were still clinking. I sat in my original spot, looking through the curtain at the motionless figure I had pressed down onto the bed. My fingers curled.

Weren’t we settling accounts? What kind of account am I settling now?

I couldn’t figure it out, so I could only stare blankly at Xie Huaishuang.

For ten whole years, every time I fought with him, I would climb the highest roof in Iron Cloud City. If I lost, I went up to be angry; if I won, I went up to gloat. In the star-filled sky, Xie Huaishuang’s shadow was everywhere.

A high-and-mighty, frost-cold, arrogant shadow.

And now he was no longer among the distant stars of the Milky Way. He was just sitting there, across the lush lamplight. A single tear shed from the heavens.

My fingers curled, rubbed forcefully against my palm, then released, pressed against the embroidery of the table, and curled again. By the third repetition, I finally couldn’t take it. I stood up abruptly, threw back the curtain, rushed to him, and took the hand resting on his knee.

Looking closer, there were several prominent red marks on his wrist.

Perhaps… there was no need to use that much force just now?

I loosened my grip slightly and pried his clenched fingers open one by one, forcing him to open his hand.

—It was thin like a bamboo joint. Only the thick calluses on the web of his thumb showed that this was clearly a hand that had held a sword for years.

“Xie Huaishuang?”

His gaze flickered. After a long time, he nodded slightly.

“I’m taking you away,” I wrote hurriedly, my strokes messy, my fingertips trembling slightly. “I’m taking you away, okay?”

If he just nodded once, I would take him away immediately—anywhere would do. My Iron Vermilion Bird is the best glider in Xiling; it can fly over the highest buildings, covering a thousand li in a day. No one could catch us. No one at all.

I didn’t know why I wanted to take him away; I just felt like it. I’ve always been one to do things without reason in the heat of the moment.

Xie Huaishuang lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on the floor behind me. Only after I had repeated the writing ten times did he tilt his head slightly and move his fingers.

“Why don’t you…” He paused, then changed his words. “Who are you?”

He had almost never spoken to me, but I had forced a half-sound or two of pained breath out of him before. Every time I tried to recall it, I thought of a cold spring in the mountains, the chilly water washing over my ankles.

The Kingdom of Xiling is full of deep mountains and wide waters, shrouded in mist, and its High Priest was exactly the same.

Now his voice was a bit hoarse. Probably because he couldn’t hear himself, he spoke very quietly.

Hearing this, my hand paused—he actually didn’t recognize me. Should I tell him now? That I’m the Zhu Pingsheng from Iron Cloud City who’s fought you for ten years?

No, don’t tell him. I rejected the idea immediately.

If I were the one in such a wretched state and Xie Huaishuang saw me… just thinking about it made my scalp tingle and my body go cold.

He was despicable and annoying, and one day I would defeat him soundly, but he shouldn’t be stepped into the mud like this, scattered into dust.

Xie Huaishuang should not be insulted. Under no circumstances should he be.

I thought and thought, and finally wrote in his palm: “A passerby.”

When his eyes and ears were better, he would naturally realize I was lying. But by then, since he would have recovered his former strength, he would likely have already come to kill me with his sword.

Compared to knowing my identity now, he would surely feel better that way.

Xie Huaishuang’s gaze remained on the floor behind me. A bit of lamplight flickered in his deep green eyes. He neither agreed nor disagreed, but his expression suddenly shifted into a half-smile.

—I never thought someone like him could have such an expression. I thought he was a block of ice that wouldn’t melt in eight hundred years.

“A passerby?”

That bit of a smile quickly vanished, as if it were just my imagination.

“Yes,” I suppressed my increasingly rapid breathing, held his hand, and wrote messily once more. “I’m taking you away, okay?”

Nod, please nod.

I watched him nervously.

Just one nod.