Drinking Alone Beneath the Moon

At the Martial Suppression Office in Cloudmist Prefecture, the grim, murderous air hanging over Zhao Feng's courtyard finally dissipated somewhat after the Wang Lineage case had been settled.

The poisoning murder of the Wang Lineage's legitimate son, which had shaken the entire prefectural city, was finally brought completely to light after several days of investigation, interrogation, and evidence gathering. Every link in the chain of guilt was complete, and both witness testimony and physical evidence were conclusive. There was no longer any room for reversal.

The mastermind, Wang Huai'an, was deeply calculating, vicious, and ruthless. In order to seize the Wang Lineage's authority and resources, he had not hesitated to murder a direct-bloodline heir, stir up turmoil throughout the prefectural city, and commit crimes beyond forgiveness.

As for Lin Qing's earlier remark during the interrogation that punishment might be reduced as circumstances warranted, it had merely been a psychological tactic to break through Wang Huai'an's defenses and pry open his mouth. It had never counted for anything.

The Martial Suppression Office handled cases with an iron face and impartiality, judging crimes according to the law. Merit and fault, rewards and punishments all followed established rules. How could they bend the law for a hollow promise?

Zhao Feng and Shen Lie sentenced the three people involved one by one according to the law. Wang Huai'an, whose crimes were especially heinous, received combined punishment for multiple offenses and would await execution after autumn.

The Wang Lineage, once a prominent first-rate aristocratic family that had entrenched itself in Cloudmist Prefecture for centuries, had utterly run aground and sunk after this calamity.

Its legitimate son, Wang Xiaolong, was dead, while Wang Huai'an, the pillar of its collateral branch, had been brought to justice. The enormous Wang Lineage was now supported only by its aged patriarch, a Third-Tier Martial Artist, struggling to hold it together.

The old Wang patriarch was already past seventy, and his Qi and Blood Realm had long begun to decline. He was no longer as brave as he had been in his prime. The aristocratic clan that had once stood at the peak of Cloudmist Prefecture would ultimately, step by step, decline and fade from the sight of the prefectural city's powerful and noble figures amid this storm.

The tides of the world, its rises and falls, flourishes and declines, could change in the span of a morning and evening.

As night first fell and the evening breeze carried a faint chill, Wang Qingwan, dressed in plain-colored robes, arrived alone before Lin Qing's small courtyard.

She had shed the refined splendor of a noble young lady. Her hair was arranged simply, her robes were light and unadorned, and all brightness had vanished from her brows and eyes, leaving only exhaustion and desolation after all ornament had been washed away.

She held an exquisite rosewood brocade box in her hands and gently knocked on the courtyard gate, her movements respectful and her posture proper.

The courtyard gate stood open, and Lin Qing waited quietly within.

After days of rushing about to investigate the case, his expression remained calm and composed. His fitted green attire was neat and clean, and his features were tranquil and unruffled, as though the Wang Lineage case that had shaken the whole city and toppled an entire family had been nothing more than an ordinary assignment to him.

"Lord Xie Chen." Wang Qingwan gave a slight bow, her tone earnest and filled with heartfelt respect. "I came today especially to offer my thanks. If not for Your Excellency judging the case impartially, my younger brother Wang Xiaolong would never have found peace. This is but a small token of my appreciation. I hope Your Excellency will accept it."

With that, she presented the rosewood brocade box with both hands.

Lin Qing raised a hand and accepted it. The moment his fingertips brushed the box, he could feel its warm, weighty texture. He casually opened it. There were no rare treasures inside, only a neatly stacked bundle of brand-new gilded notes, their patterns exquisite and ink bright and fresh—the official gold notes circulated by the Summer Kingdom.

"It was merely a small effort, part of my duty. There is no need for such courtesy." Lin Qing spoke calmly and accepted the box without hesitation.

Wang Qingwan looked at his handsome yet detached profile, and countless emotions surged within her.

This young man before her was still so young, yet his temperament was frighteningly steady. His intelligence, courage, discernment, and composure far surpassed those of his peers in the prefectural city. By his own strength, he had cut through layer upon layer of mist, exposed the collateral branch's conspiracy, and uncovered the truth for Wang Xiaolong.

Yet the Wang Lineage no longer had the means to repay this debt of gratitude. Such a vast family now swayed in wind and rain, with nothing but gray darkness ahead.

She remained silent for a long while. In the end, she merely let out a soft sigh, bowed once more in thanks, then turned and quietly departed. Her slender figure melted into the heavy night, lonely and bleak, carrying the endless sorrow of a great family's curtain call.

Lin Qing suddenly spoke. "Miss Wang, what do you think of Ye Lingchuan?"

Without waiting for Wang Qingwan's reply, he closed the courtyard gate.

Thus, the Wang Lineage case came to a complete end. Grudges and rights and wrongs, rise and fall, honor and disgrace—all of it turned into another page.

Others sighed in regret and discussed it endlessly, but all these twists and turns no longer had the slightest connection to Lin Qing.

Time drifted quietly onward. In the blink of an eye, several days passed, and the date silently entered the fifteenth of the eighth month.

The autumn wind gradually deepened, and the skies were high and clear. The osmanthus tree in the courtyard had long been laden with tiny blossoms.

Its petals, like golden grains of millet, layered upon one another and dotted the branches. Small and delicate, they exuded a rich fragrance. Whenever the breeze passed, the scent of osmanthus spilled through the entire courtyard, sweet and lingering, refusing to disperse. Broken gold blanketed the courtyard, while fragrance filled the ground.

Lin Qing stood in the courtyard and looked over the blossoms that filled it.

The fifteenth day of the eighth month—the Mid-Autumn Festival.

In his previous life, it had been a traditional holiday for family reunions. But now, he was alone in another world.

He was in Cloudmist Prefecture, amid unfamiliar mortal life, with no relatives and no friends, no companions at his side.

That night, Lin Qing made an exception and halted the cultivation he had never interrupted day after day.

At dusk, he left the small courtyard alone and went to the taverns and markets in the prefectural city's streets and alleys. He carefully selected several delicate, refreshing cold dishes, a serving of fragrant, spicy Mapo tofu, and a jug of fine clear wine that had been sealed away for years, then brought them back to the courtyard.

Night slowly spread across the sky. A bright moon gradually rose in the east, hanging high against the ink-black heavens.

The moonlight was as pure as water, crystalline and clear. Its cool radiance spilled across the world, illuminating the entire courtyard as brightly as day. The bluestones on the ground resembled frost, while the blossoms on the branches looked like snow. Light and shadow interlaced, and the stillness was almost desolate.

Lin Qing arranged the dishes and wine one by one upon the bluestone table in the courtyard, then sat down alone.

The stone table was faintly cool, the evening breeze gentle, waves of osmanthus fragrance drifted through the air, and moonlight stretched without end.

He lifted his wine cup and poured himself a drink.

The wine's fragrance was crisp and clear. It went down warm and smooth, carrying a faint, lingering sweetness.

All around him, everything was silent. From the prefectural city came only scattered laughter and the warmth of lights in countless homes.

After several cups of clear wine entered his stomach, the intoxication gradually deepened. A slight drunken haze rose in his heart, and memories of his previous life, long sealed away, surged forth. Familiar faces flashed through his mind, clear yet distant.

Old events from years past, the rivers and mountains of his homeland, the warmth of old friends—all had become fleeting clouds and smoke, forever beyond reach.

As the wine went to his head and emotions churned, Lin Qing slowly set down his cup, leaned back, and lay facing upward upon the cool bluestone table.

His eyes remained open as he quietly gazed at the full, radiant moon above.

The evening breeze stirred his robes and blew scattered osmanthus petals from the branches. Fine golden petals fell upon his shoulders, into his hair, and across the stone table, soundlessly.

A myriad of emotions settled into the depths of his heart, ultimately becoming an exceedingly soft murmur that drifted away on the evening breeze.

"A jug of wine among the flowers, drinking alone with no close companion."

"I raise my cup to invite the bright moon; with my shadow, we become three."

After softly reciting the lines, there was neither sorrow nor joy in his eyes, only an endless, boundless emptiness.

He lay there quietly, gazing at the bright moon hanging high in the sky.

He let the evening breeze brush his face, let the osmanthus fragrance surround him, let the moonlight cover his body. His mind was empty and hollow. He no longer thought of his homeland from his previous life, nor did he consider the road ahead in this one. He simply watched that round moon in silence, alone.

Time flowed slowly. He did not know how long had passed before the weary drowsiness of intoxication swept through his entire body.

The bluestone table was faintly cool, the moonlight gentle as water, and the osmanthus fragrance lay heavy throughout the courtyard. The young man alone in a foreign land rested amid moonlight covering the ground and fragments of floral fragrance, quietly falling asleep in the endless, lonely night.

Heaven and earth were still; the moonlight said nothing.