Chapter Four: The Eldest Miss of the Ye Family

A ray of sunlight pierced through the layers of leaves, falling across Yeye’s face. The dazzling brilliance made him squint in discomfort; he lifted a skeletal hand to shield his eyes from the glare.

“I’m… still alive? Was I saved by someone?” he wondered to himself.

A faint fragrance caught his attention. He sniffed the air and turned his head to the right. There, enveloped in a gentle luminescence, sat a girl of about fifteen or sixteen years old—the source of the scent.

She wore a pale blue dress. Her eyes were clear and bright, brows arched like willows, and long lashes trembled softly. Her skin was flawless and fair, with a hint of rosy blush; her lips, delicate and thin, were as tender as rose petals.

Around her floated milky-white motes of light, radiating a powerful inner force.

“What astonishing inner strength! She can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen, yet her energy is so profound it’s visible,” he thought in amazement. “Comparisons really are odious.”

“You’re awake?”

A voice sounded from his left. Turning, he saw an elderly man in a blue robe regarding him.

Yeye glanced around. The sunlight was now less harsh. He lay beneath a sprawling tree; not far off, a carriage stood quietly. Four black horses grazed nearby, one being fed by a burly man with a broadsword at his waist. Three more men of similar build sat cross-legged nearby, each armed with blades, their presence formidable.

Returning his gaze to the elderly man, Yeye rasped, “Did you save me?”

The old man shook his head gently. “It was my young mistress who saved you.”

Young mistress? A carriage? Four bodyguards bearing blades? Yeye’s confusion deepened. Was this some kind of theater troupe? It didn’t seem so—no cameras, and only a handful of people.

The old man gestured to Yeye’s right.

He saw the girl had already finished her cultivation and was watching him with wide, curious eyes. It seemed she truly was his savior.

Struggling upright, Yeye clasped his hands in gratitude toward the girl. “Thank you, young mistress, for saving my life. I… cough! Cough!” He was overcome by a fit of coughing.

“No need for such formality, Grandpa. I’m just glad you’re all right—here, have some water.” The girl quickly stopped him from speaking further, patting his back gently and offering him a waterskin.

“Grandpa?” The corners of Yeye’s mouth twitched. Having just caught his breath, he nearly fainted again at being called that. Looking down at his withered, skeletal hands and then at his white hair, he realized he must appear every bit the decrepit old man.

Well, so be it. He ought to figure out what was happening first. Gratefully, he accepted the waterskin and drank deeply, feeling his strength returning.

“Who are you people? Where am I?” he asked in his hoarse voice.

“We’re from the Ye family of Ling City. This place is about twenty li from the city,” replied the girl. “By the way, Grandpa, how did you come to faint here?”

Ling City? Twenty li away? He’d only ever known a small town in this area.

Yeye was unfazed and replied calmly, “I was headed to Ling City to visit relatives. Alas, old age has caught up with me—I didn’t get far before collapsing by the roadside.” He spoke as if he truly was an elderly traveler.

Only the steward, Old Ye, frowned ever so slightly at the explanation.

“Is that so? That’s wonderful, then! Grandpa, our home is in Ling City. Why don’t you travel with us?” the girl offered happily.

“This… I’m not sure that would be appropriate,” Yeye hesitated, glancing at the old man.

“There’s nothing inappropriate at all. We’ve rested enough—let’s set off!” the girl beamed, rallying her companions.

One of the guards, Xiaolong, stepped forward to help Yeye, but Old Ye signaled him back. Instead, Old Ye himself took Yeye by the arm and helped him up.

Yeye felt a surge of force travel from the old man’s grip into his body, then vanish as quickly as it came, as if nothing had occurred.

“What was that? No cultivation at all—could my guess have been wrong? Better that way,” Old Ye mused inwardly.

“What terrifying strength. If he wanted to kill me, I’d have no way to resist. He was just testing whether I posed a threat,” Yeye thought with a shudder of relief.

“The young mistress is truly kind-hearted,” Yeye remarked, watching the girl walk toward the carriage.

“She always has been. By the way, what should we call you, friend?” Old Ye asked with a kindly smile.

“Please, ‘friend’ is too much. My name is Ye Wuyai,” he replied.

“Oh? Your surname is Ye as well?” Old Ye queried.

“Not leaf, but night.”

Once aboard the carriage, Ye Wuyai sat opposite the girl, gripping the seat tightly.

“Is this your first time riding in a carriage, Grandpa? Don’t be afraid—Ye Grandpa’s driving is very steady,” the girl reassured him, noticing his nervousness.

“Thank you, young mistress. If not for your rescue, I doubt I’d still be alive. And now you don’t disdain to let an old man ride with you—otherwise, who knows how many days it would take me to reach Ling City on foot!” Ye Wuyai feigned the frailty of age with heartfelt gratitude.

“No need to thank me. My mother always says, ‘Helping others is helping oneself,’” the girl replied brightly.

“Well said—helping others is helping oneself. Young mistress, though I may not have many years left, should you ever need aid, I will do all in my power to help you,” Ye Wuyai declared, thumping his chest.

The girl stifled a giggle, seeing his white hair and aged features.

“Grandpa, you don’t need to call me ‘young mistress.’ My name is Ye Ruoyue,” she introduced herself.

“Ye Ruoyue… Ruoyue…” Ye Wuyai repeated softly.

He lifted his gaze to the window, watching the setting sun dip below the horizon. Leaves drifted gently from the trees, a broken rainbow scattered like stars across the sky. The full moon hung faintly, half-veiled. Ye Wuyai opened his withered palm; a leaf floated in through the window and landed in his hand. He brought it to his nose, inhaled deeply, and recited,

“Drunk, I turn and question the sunset, falling leaves carry a fading fragrance.
Ten thousand years of broken rainbows wane into dusk, as the dreamlike moon rises anew.”

The timing was perfect, the poem fitting the scene as if conjured by the moment. Ye Ruoyue felt herself enveloped by the imagery, as if transported into the verse.

Seeing her reaction, Ye Wuyai gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Old as I am, I may never have the chance to repay your great kindness. All I can offer is this poem—may you accept it with a smile, young mistress.”

“For me?” Ye Ruoyue asked.

He nodded.

“Drunk, I turn and question the sunset, falling leaves carry a fading fragrance.
Ten thousand years of broken rainbows wane into dusk, as the dreamlike moon rises anew!

It’s beautiful—truly beautiful! My mother loves poetry too. When I get home, I’ll be sure to recite it to her!” Ye Ruoyue repeated the lines with delight.

“Oh, Grandpa, what is this poem called?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.

Ye Wuyai considered a moment. “Let’s call it ‘Clarity.’”

“‘Clarity’? Thank you, Grandpa!” Ye Ruoyue was overjoyed. With such a lovely poem to share, her mother was sure to be delighted as well…