Chapter 4: Drawing Boundaries
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation
At the base of Lone Moon Peak, a heavy silence hung in the air.
All eyes were fixed on a lone, slender figure standing amidst the crowd.
An invisible weight of pressure enveloped the surroundings, dimming even the sky’s brilliance.
Breaking the tense stillness, Yu Zhao stepped forward.
“Junior Sister,” she began, her tone modulated with a perfect balance of regret and sincerity, “during our sparring session that day, it was my oversight. I forgot how frail you are and went all out, causing you harm. These past days in the Black Prison, the image of you coughing up blood and fainting has haunted me with guilt.”
Her voice rose and fell with precision, and her expression carried a pained sincerity. To onlookers, she seemed utterly repentant.
However, the expressions of the crowd shifted to a strange mix of disbelief and suspicion.
Many among them had witnessed the incident in question.
Ye Cong Xin’s injury had originated from her own insistence. She had begged Yu Zhao for a sparring match to test her strength. Initially, Yu Zhao had declined, but after persistent pleading and encouragement from bystanders, she reluctantly agreed.
The duel had drawn a large audience, eager to watch the sect’s most beloved junior sister face off against Lone Moon Peak’s only female disciple.
At first, the sparring was evenly matched. However, Ye Cong Xin’s attacks grew increasingly aggressive, forcing Yu Zhao into a defensive stance. Just when it seemed Yu Zhao was on the verge of losing, she unleashed a sudden counterstrike, severely injuring Ye Cong Xin and turning the tables.
Yu Zhao’s unremarkable reputation in the sect had led many to conclude that her victory could only have been achieved through underhanded means. This sparked widespread sympathy for Ye Cong Xin and disdain for Yu Zhao.
Now, hearing Yu Zhao’s words, the crowd began to reconsider. After all, Ye Cong Xin was notoriously delicate. Losing to someone of equal rank, like Yu Zhao, wasn’t exactly shocking.
Ye Cong Xin’s face flickered with discomfort, her gaze on Yu Zhao becoming more scrutinizing.
No one knew an enemy better than their rival.
Ye Cong Xin had taken Yu Zhao’s place as the junior sister of Lone Moon Peak by carefully ingratiating herself with everyone around them. She prided herself on knowing Yu Zhao better than anyone.
To her, Yu Zhao appeared outwardly tenacious but was, in truth, fragile and insecure. Like a rootless duckweed, Yu Zhao constantly sought approval, even at the cost of her self-esteem, groveling for scraps of warmth from others.
Dealing with someone like her required a strategic approach: attack her relationships one by one until she crumbled into despair. Then, with a slight push, Yu Zhao would plummet into the abyss.
The plan had been progressing smoothly. Ye Cong Xin had even predicted Yu Zhao’s reaction to this moment.
Yet today, Yu Zhao’s actions were entirely unpredictable, stirring an uneasy sense of losing control.
Meanwhile, Yu Zhao continued speaking.
“A verbal apology feels inadequate, so I’ve decided to gift this Purple Cloud Bamboo Flute to Junior Sister as a token of my regret.”
As she spoke, a long, purple bamboo flute appeared in her hand.
Its polished surface gleamed like jade, a testament to how carefully its owner had treasured it.
The crowd erupted in whispers.
All eyes turned to Lan Zi Yu, standing beside Ye Cong Xin.
Lan Zi Yu’s playful smirk had vanished, replaced by a dark, stormy expression. His eyes were locked on Yu Zhao, blazing with fury.
The entire sect knew the significance of that Purple Cloud Bamboo Flute. It had been Lan Zi Yu’s gift to Yu Zhao when she joined the sect.
Yu Zhao cherished it deeply, carrying it with her at all times. Once, when a fellow disciple jokingly asked for it, she had snapped at them, proving how much it meant to her.
And now, she was offering it to Ye Cong Xin?
The crowd exchanged looks, sensing an impending drama.
Fang Cheng Lang felt a chill of foreboding.
While he appreciated Yu Zhao’s gesture of remorse, he couldn’t condone her choice of gift.
He knew Lan Zi Yu well enough to understand the man’s possessiveness. Whether he loved or hated something, Lan Zi Yu refused to let anyone else touch what was his.
By gifting the flute Lan Zi Yu had crafted with his own hands, Yu Zhao was certain to provoke him—even if it was for Ye Cong Xin.
This was a recipe for disaster.
“Sixth Sister…” Fang Cheng Lang began, intending to dissuade her, but Yu Zhao didn’t give him the chance to finish.
Turning to Lan Zi Yu, she met his gaze head-on and spoke calmly, “Second Brother, as you know, this Purple Cloud Bamboo Flute was a gift from you. Now that I’ve decided to pass it on to Junior Sister, I trust you won’t mind?”
Provocation.
It was an unmistakable challenge.
Lan Zi Yu’s breathing grew heavier, his eyes flashing with icy hostility.
How dare she?
How dare she?
Even though this wasn’t her first time facing Lan Zi Yu’s malice, Yu Zhao’s chest tightened involuntarily, the pain coiling deep inside her.
“Junior Sister, this is for you,” she said, holding out the flute.
“Oh, what a beautiful flute! And it’s purple, too! It’s so lovely. Second Brother, did you really make this for me?” Ye Cong Xin’s voice echoed in Yu Zhao’s memory.
“Of course. I made it myself, every joint polished by hand. It’s one of a kind. If you ever lose it, don’t bother telling people you’re my junior sister,” Lan Zi Yu had replied smugly.
“I’ll keep it safe! Even if I lose everything else, I’ll never lose this flute. Second Brother, can you teach me how to play it?”
“Hmph, now you’re making sense. Hand it over, I’ll teach you.”
Taking a deep breath, Yu Zhao pushed the memory aside.
In her previous life, she had cherished the flute as though it were part of her soul. Yet Lan Zi Yu had later demanded it back on a whim after Ye Cong Xin casually mentioned it. When Yu Zhao refused, he flew into a rage, hurling cruel words at her.
One line stood out above the rest:
“The biggest mistake I ever made was giving you this flute. You’re not worthy of it!”
To please Ye Cong Xin, Lan Zi Yu had even crafted a superior black bamboo flute for her and destroyed the Purple Cloud Bamboo Flute in front of Yu Zhao. Her pleas fell on deaf ears as he shattered it without hesitation.
If she couldn’t keep something, why not discard it before it weighed her down?
“Of course, I don’t mind. It never really belonged to you in the first place. I must’ve been blind back then,” Lan Zi Yu sneered through gritted teeth.
“That’s wonderful.” Yu Zhao’s lips curved into a faint smile.
With light steps, she walked up to Ye Cong Xin, offering her the flute. Then, with an expectant look, she said, “Junior Sister, please accept it.”
The atmosphere grew stifling as the crowd held their breath. Lan Zi Yu’s gaze felt like a blade, ready to strike the moment Ye Cong Xin reached out.
Hesitating, Ye Cong Xin shook her head timidly. “This… this is Second Brother’s gift to you. I can’t take it.”
“It’s fine. You heard him; Second Brother already agreed. Besides, this is my heartfelt apology. If you refuse, does that mean you don’t intend to forgive me? That would make your senior sister very sad,” Yu Zhao said with a serene smile.