Chapter 51: Runaway Fallen Leaves

Luo Yunyao shook her head softly in her heart, smiling gently, forever and always. Everything was within her heart, etched deeply upon him.

He was the one she cherished most, the most perfect lover in all the world. How could she possibly feel jealous? How could she harbor any dissatisfaction toward him?

Fortunate across three lifetimes to encounter you, to fall in love with you. Bound by fate for ten generations, to know you, to love you.

The more Luo Yunyao pondered this, the more her heart overflowed with sweetness, yet the bitterness also grew increasingly intense, weighing heavily on her chest, stifling and oppressive.

“Yunyao?” Qin Jinghao appeared before her unexpectedly. He had been worried that she might still be angry with him, but now he studied her expression carefully.

Qin Jinghao suddenly noticed that Luo Yunyao’s complexion had been pale all day. Only upon his arrival had her face regained a slight glow, though still lacking color, her pallor somewhat lessened. She had even shot him a coquettish glare just moments ago.

But now, that beautiful, delicate face that had just been chiding him had lost its color again, growing even paler.

Luo Yunyao was neither angry nor jealous.

Qin Jinghao could not quite discern what emotion she was feeling now, but she was clearly downcast—fragile, in need of comfort.

The general was at a loss for words, unable to understand the cause of her mood.

Luo Yunyao looked up absentmindedly, as if caught off guard, her gaze meeting Qin Jinghao’s eyes like a startled fawn.

Under those familiar yet deeply beloved eyes, she finally broke down, unable to hold back any longer. She bit her lip, parted her crimson mouth, and resolved herself to speak:

“No… you are wonderful, the very best— the most perfect lover in this world.” Her voice trembled with a hint of tears. Qin Jinghao’s eyes flickered uncertainly as he watched her without blinking. Luo Yunyao, still struggling to suppress what she could not contain, continued:

“It’s my fault. I just feel so terrible. Moon Liu Xi met you first. She loved you first. You two grew up together, childhood sweethearts, inseparable. But I— I just barged in, stole you away like this. Moon Liu Xi has waited for you so long, loved you for so long. And me? What right do I have? I’m neither smarter nor more beautiful than she is…”

Luo Yunyao finally collapsed under her own emotions. Her voice, hoarse with sobs, gave way to a few tears rolling down her cheeks:

“I can’t even promise to love you more than she does. I have no right at all. Today, Ouyang Jingxu pitied her, and in the future, everyone in the world will pity her. Ouyang Jingxu is your old friend, yet he speaks of you this way—what about others? Everyone loves beauty, and pitying the weak and fragile is innate. You treat me so well, but treat your beloved Moon Liu Xi so poorly—what will the world think? Will they despise you like Ouyang Jingxu does?”

Tears streamed down her face, unstoppable and growing in number. Luo Yunyao choked back her sobs with all her might.

She widened her almond-shaped eyes, trying to see clearly the person before her, but her blurred vision was filled only with shimmering tears, distorting his image. She shook her head and continued, losing control:

“No, it might be even worse. Jinghao, my beloved, you are like the bright moon and clear breeze—why must you endure such insults and gossip? Is it just because we love each other? Or simply because I love you? You’re a celestial being, a gentleman as pure as jade. How could you be dragged down from your pedestal because of me?”

Luo Yunyao refused to accept the truth, shaking her head repeatedly as she stepped back. Suddenly, she felt her foot catch on something, yet there was nothing there.

Qin Jinghao’s gaze fell to her feet, worried about her ankle. For a brief moment, he even thought she might have done it on purpose.

Taking advantage of her stumble, Luo Yunyao curled into herself, hugging her knees tightly, burying her face in them.

“You’re so unreasonable, so sentimental—how could anyone bear you?” she thought. Knowing Qin Jinghao could no longer see her face, she covered her ears and let out a loud wail, unable to hold back any longer. She cried bitterly, wiping her tears onto her gown.

Raised by a father who was a modern official steeped in Marxist and socialist core values, Luo Yunyao’s worldview was unwaveringly righteous. She believed in equality and often felt moved by hopeless or desperate love stories, like those in “Letter from an Unknown Woman.” She wished every forlorn crush or unrequited love could find its rightful place.

It was laughable, yet true. Luo Yunyao had never been in love before; her mind was full of idealized romance. Her world was too innocent. In the modern era, she lived under the protection of her parents, but their deaths hit her so hard she attempted to end her own life. After transmigrating to this world, she became a princess of a fallen kingdom. Though the kingdom was lost, she was carefully protected by Luo Zhongming, Minister of War of Bilu. Her education was less about social graces and more about navigating the political arena.

In this relationship, Luo Yunyao seemed to hold the upper hand. She could tease Qin Jinghao, nag him, even flirt with him. Yet, as she told Ouyang Jingxu, she was uncertain if losing Qin Jinghao would drive her to attempt suicide again.

But that was not the crux of her emotional breakdown.

Beyond her personality and worldview, it was her love and admiration for Qin Jinghao—so blind and absolute—that made her unable to bear any insult toward him.

More importantly, there was an unbridgeable chasm between them.

She did not belong to this world. Fate had brought her here by chance, but she did not know when fate would once again wave its hand and take her back.

Luo Yunyao did not doubt Qin Jinghao’s deep and sincere love for her. And because of that, her pain was even greater.

What would Qin Jinghao do if she left?

Moreover, she was still condemned and scorned by the entire capital. What should have been a simple or complicated situation had left Luo Yunyao utterly unable to clear her name.

If she couldn’t clear it, knowing Qin Jinghao’s nature, she dared not imagine what he might do.

Yet how could she bear to drag Qin Jinghao into such filthy scandal? The thought of pulling him into the mortal world filled her with guilt and sorrow.

She loved him so deeply—this noble young lord, like clear wind and bright moon, like jade. Her immortal exile.

Buried in her knees, she sobbed, “I shouldn’t still be alive. I shouldn’t have clung on when the kingdom fell. Then I wouldn’t have met you…” She shouldn’t have survived from the modern world only to transmigrate here.

Her voice faltered and slurred through her tears.

But lost in her thoughts, she continued crying:

“And you, Qin Jinghao, my beloved, if not for me, you would still be the great general of Western Qin, renowned across the land, adored by countless admirers—including a clever, cautious, and determined princess who loves you like the autumn moon—Moon Liu Xi.”

Her scattered thoughts rambled, lacking coherence, all telling her she should leave Qin Jinghao.

She struggled to discern which thoughts were right to speak aloud, and which should remain unspoken. “I should leave you. After all, I’m mired in this quagmire, and my kingdom has not been restored…” The future was an enormous unknown. Cleverly, Luo Yunyao swallowed the words she shouldn’t say, but some had already slipped out. To cover her fatal pause, she swallowed hard, sniffled, and continued loudly:

“I’m not suitable for you, General Qin. You deserve a wife skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting; gentle, virtuous, and obedient; a house filled with lively, adorable children; tending exquisite flowers and savoring fine tea… You should live such a life, a paradise apart from the world.”

Since the worst had already been said, Luo Yunyao gave in to despair, thinking she might as well say it all at once, for there would be no chance later. She buried her head deeper in her knees, curling tighter into herself, shrinking smaller and more sealed off:

“And I, Luo Yunyao, have nothing to offer you now. I will only drag you down from paradise!”

She finally shouted the words aloud, her voice hoarse with sobs, growing louder and more desperate.

A wutong tree sighs in autumn, a cluster of banana leaves carries sorrow.

The water in the teapot had grown cold.

Outside, the falling leaves seemed startled by Luo Yunyao’s anguished cries—though she immediately restrained herself, lowering her voice to quiet sobs. Yet those leaves, which had clung steadfastly to the branches, finally gave up, saying farewell as they drifted away into the dust.

Forever gone, no longer able to lean on one another or speak of endless love. Perhaps only when the wind rises, can the fallen leaves dance one last time with the branches in a bittersweet farewell.

Once freed from the branch, the leaves gradually forget which tree they belonged to, which branch they loved. In the end, the leaves return to dust.

But the branch that once held those leaves will one day sprout new leaves, tender and fresh, to stay by its side.