Chapter Fifty-Eight: First Encounter with the Moonlight in My Heart

Chen Gouzi rolled Boss Wang, who was sprawled atop Yutan, onto his back and pushed him off the bed. Then he fetched a set of clothes from the wardrobe and dressed Yutan. Throughout it all, Yutan showed no response whatsoever. Were it not for the warmth of her body, Chen Gouzi might have believed he had lost his mind and accidentally killed her.

Looking at Yutan’s face, now bereft of its former luster, Chen Gouzi’s heart ached with grief. He returned to his own room, gathered all the savings he had accumulated over the years, and went back to Yutan’s chamber, pouring every last copper and silver fragment into her jewelry box.

“I have wronged you. If fate ever allows us to meet again, I, Chen Gouzi, will surely make it up to you,” he murmured, bending down to gently kiss the corner of Yutan’s lips. Just as he was about to leave, he suddenly heard her whisper, “Gouzi, could you call me ‘little sister’ just once? You know, I’m a few months younger than you…”

Hearing her words, Chen Gouzi’s heart trembled. He dared not look back at her, only softly calling out, “Little Yutan…”

With that, he turned and left without a backward glance.

Yutan lay on the bed, her face numb and expressionless, save for a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye.

Chen Gouzi left all the money he had saved over the years to Yutan—not out of guilt or a desire for atonement, but as a way to sever ties with the past. To finally say goodbye to the self he could no longer bear.

From this day forward, he would endure no more. He would never again let himself or those around him live without dignity. He wanted to change, to become strong.

Thus it was: Chen Gouzi had been carried into the House of Spring and Moon on a snowy night, and fifteen years later, he left it behind on another tumultuous evening.

His arrival was never his own choice, but his departure was the wisest decision he would ever make. Many years later, when he looked back on those days, he realized it was precisely those wretched memories that had forged him.

Dragging his exhausted, battered body, Chen Gouzi left the House of Spring and Moon. The entire establishment was steeped in desire; no one paid him any mind.

He had no idea where he should go, nor where his true home lay; all he could do was keep moving forward.

Lacking strength, he stumbled and fell many times along the way, leaving his body marked with fresh wounds. Yet each time he fell, he pulled himself up again, until at last, utterly spent, he collapsed in a thicket and lost consciousness.

…

Chen Gouzi’s memories were interrupted by the sound of a door opening. Lying on the bed, he turned his head to see a youth of extraordinary bearing standing in the doorway, eyes bright as stars and a gentle smile on his lips.

“You’re awake,” the youth said. His voice, still in the midst of changing, was not unpleasant at all—it was like a cool breeze brushing one’s face, refreshing and clear.

“Was it you who saved me?”

Chen Gouzi had not expected his rescuer to be such a handsome youth. For a moment, he felt ashamed of the sordid suspicions that had crossed his mind. How could someone so pure and radiant harbor ulterior motives?

He was so wretched, and this youth was as bright and clear as the moon and wind—how could such a person stoop to use someone like him?

Yet instead of comforting him, the youth’s excellence only deepened Chen Gouzi’s sense of inferiority. He couldn’t help but wonder: If he, too, had been born into such a family, rather than growing up in the filth of the House of Spring and Moon, perhaps he might have been as dazzling as this youth. In truth, even to follow behind someone like this was more than he could hope for…

“Yes, or rather, we saved you,” the youth replied, noticing Chen Gouzi’s unease and speaking with a warmth and a hint of playful mischief befitting his age.

“Thank you all. If ever there is anything I can do to repay you, I will not hesitate to lay down my life!” Chen Gouzi blurted out instinctively.

“Heh, fate brings people together. The fact that we found you while you were unconscious means we’re destined to meet, so there’s no need for thanks. By the way, my name is Luo Changning. May I know your name, brother?”

He had been addressed as “Chen Gouzi” for fifteen years in the House of Spring and Moon, but now, in front of this youth, he felt too ashamed to say it aloud. To let such a person hear that name would be an insult.

So he answered, “My name is Chen Lin.”

Perhaps some things are fated from the very beginning. Chen Gouzi told Luo Changning his name was Chen Lin, and from then on, he truly became loyal to Luo Changning alone.

At this moment, Luo Changning did not yet realize he had gained the loyalty of Chen Lin, a subordinate older than himself by several years.

After bidding Chen Lin farewell, Luo Changning went to the general store and the tailor’s to purchase supplies for that night’s undertaking: two sets of black nightclothes and some dye.

He had been living with Ma Qingyun in the Su family courtyard for several months now, seeing each other daily, so he was naturally well aware of Ma Qingyun’s measurements and prepared everything accordingly.

After dusk, Luo Changning and his companions, joined by the newly recruited Chen Lin, enjoyed a hearty meal in the inn’s main hall.

At first sight of Ma Xue’e, Chen Lin felt as though he had glimpsed the very image of his ideal beloved.

So there were beautiful things in this world after all—it was merely that they were often too distant to touch. Thinking of Yutan’s delicate, lovely face, Chen Lin added silently: perhaps, in truth, most people simply lack the eyes to see what is beautiful in the world.