Chapter Fifty-One: To Love or Not to Love

He rushed over, leaning against the railing and gazing out onto the lake, but he saw no sign of Qin Ruoyan.

"Reckless!" Ling Zetian was truly furious now. It was the heart of winter; even stepping outside in thick layers made one shiver with cold, yet Qin Ruoyan had jumped into the lake.

Without a second thought, he stripped off his coat and dove in after her.

On a winter night, the lake water was bone-chilling. The heavy darkness made it impossible to see where Qin Ruoyan might be. He scanned the surface, seeing only ripples spreading out—no trace of her. He took a deep breath and submerged, determined to search below.

The icy water soaked through his clothes, stinging every pore. Staring into the black depths, a sudden fear welled up within Ling Zetian.

Would Qin Ruoyan simply sink, never to return? Would she never again appear before him, whole and unharmed?

The more he thought, the more uneasy he felt.

He searched frantically for her, desperate even for a corner of her garment. He feared her frail body could not withstand the freezing lake, feared he would not find her, feared she would vanish from this world forever.

He even began to regret not taking Qin Ruoyan with him earlier, regretted leaving her alone. Her mother had died, but why had he been so heartless? At her most vulnerable, he hadn't even offered her a single comforting word.

Just now, she had clung to him only because, in this world, he was her sole family. Yet he had pushed her away.

Flashes of memories stirred—days spent together, both happy and painful. He hadn’t thought of them for years, had believed he’d forgotten.

Yes, they had known each other for many years; there were many memories, however much he wanted to deny it. They were real, and though they had passed, they would never disappear.

He didn’t know how long he had been underwater. His body was numb, a chill seeping into his heart. Breathing became difficult, so he surfaced, gulping icy air, gazing over the endless lake as he began to shout, "Qin Ruoyan! Qin Ruoyan..."

Still, he did not see her.

Time slipped by, but she remained out of sight.

Did she intend to make him regret, to punish him in such a way?

But he hated this feeling; he hated it deeply!

The emptiness and terror gnawing at his heart—was it fear of losing her?

Then, just as he thought Qin Ruoyan would never return, he spotted a hand waving from the water not far away.

He hurried over, scooped Qin Ruoyan up, and swam toward the shore.

The heavy clothes, soaked through, clung to him like blocks of ice. In the ghastly pale moonlight, her face was as white as paper, lips purple from the cold, eyes tightly shut, trembling in his arms.

He gently patted her cheek. She opened her eyes, and tears slid from the corners.

"Aye, I thought I'd never see you again..." she choked, wiping her tears in confusion.

"Qin Ruoyan, have you no regard for your life? On a night this cold, what were you thinking?" Ling Zetian looked at her, so angry he nearly struck her. At that moment, he felt her freezing hand press something into his palm.

He opened his hand to find the small jade pendant that had fallen into the water.

It was an ordinary pendant, nothing of value. On reflection, it seemed to be the one she’d given him after dragging him to a temple years ago, hanging it on him when they returned.

"There are actually two pendants," Qin Ruoyan said, shivering. "I met a master at the temple who said I was fated for them. He told me the pendants are called Twin Jade—if you give one to someone you love, you’ll always be together. I’m not superstitious, but I thought, if I can’t stay by your side, at least something of mine can. So I gave you one."

With a hint of contentment, she smiled, "I’m glad I found it. I was afraid it would be lost forever."

"So you risked your life for a worthless piece of jade?" Ling Zetian was annoyed by her explanation. In weather like this, if anything happened, he’d be haunted by guilt for life.

"You know I’m a good swimmer; normally it’s no problem. But I searched too long underwater—my hands and feet froze, I started to cramp. I nearly sank. I thought I’d die, never see you again. Then I heard you calling my name." Qin Ruoyan, now a little recovered, sat up and looked at the water dripping from Ling Zetian’s hair. She reached out to touch his face, earnest, "Once I’m gone, you’ll be alone. No matter what, I hope you keep this pendant…"

Ling Zetian said nothing, but neither did he return the pendant. Qin Ruoyan knew he had accepted it.

She smiled, rose, lingered for a moment to look at Ling Zetian, then turned and walked toward Twilight Palace.

It was enough. At least she knew she still had a place in Ling Zetian’s heart.

That was enough.

Ling Zetian watched her recede into the distance, then turned his gaze to the small pendant in his palm. He clenched it in his hand and returned to Morning Cloud Palace.

Meanwhile, after a long conversation with Yang Siyuan, Feng Qiujin found it was already late. They bid each other goodnight and retired to their rooms.

Entering her own room, she saw seven or eight people sitting on the bed, a jar of wine, several plates of snacks, a basin of glowing coals, and a dim oil lamp. Everyone was gathered, laughing and chatting, clearly enjoying themselves.

From now on, these would be her companions. The thought made Feng Qiujin excited; she felt it was time to introduce herself and get to know them, to foster camaraderie for better cooperation.

"Hey, what are you all talking about?"

Seeing Feng Qiujin greet them, everyone enthusiastically made space for her. She sat down and joined in their lively talk about which town lady was prettiest, which lord had taken a new concubine, and other daily gossip.

She found this life quite pleasant. Staying in the cold, lonely palace all day, with no one to play or talk with, was dull. The maids and eunuchs, trained to serve their masters, were so cautious that even chatting with a maid felt awkward, their nervousness making her lose interest.

Moments like this—drinking, chatting, sharing stories—were true living. Too bad Ling Zetian would never experience it.

Thinking of Ling Zetian brought a pang to her heart. He was likely enjoying life with Qin Ruoyan now. Though only two days had passed since she left, it felt like centuries.

She missed Ling Shunuo, the little rascal whose words and actions never matched a four-year-old, making her suspect he was split in personality, but she had to admit he was adorable at times.

She missed Ling Zexin. Though she disliked womanizers, Ling Zexin was a good man and always playful, like a child. She had once hoped to be his best friend, following him on adventures, but now that was impossible.

She missed Ying Xuanyu, the elegant young gentleman; their time together had been relaxed and pleasant. He was a good man too, and she wished for another wild night of drinking with him.

And Ying Hua Luo, annoying yet kind-hearted, a lovable girl. Though they had been rivals and never settled their scores, Feng Qiujin always felt that, if she ever stopped loving Ling Zetian, the two could become great friends.

She missed Xiao Hui, the obedient girl who always considered her feelings. She couldn’t bear to leave her in the palace, so she had sent her to serve Feng Qiujin’s mother at the Prime Minister’s residence.

These people were all she had met since coming to the Ling Dynasty. They were friendly, and knowing them made her happy.

Of course, she owed the most to Ling Zetian. Without him, she wouldn’t have met any of them, nor had the chance to live among them. No matter what, having traveled to this ancient world and played in the imperial palace was fortune enough; she felt content.

Now, she rather wanted to go home.

But there was no way back.

So she would make the best of it, enjoy her days as a bandit, then find a place to settle down and use the severance Ling Zetian gave her to establish herself. If nothing else, opening a tavern or inn sounded nice; she could make a living.

Perhaps, in time, she would meet a gentle, loving man, marry him, have children, and devote herself to her family—growing old together.

Her feelings for Ling Zetian were only born of long acquaintance; affection grows with time. People are sentimental creatures—even a flower or a pet, given enough time, becomes hard to part with.

So she would treat Ling Zetian like a pet. Now that she had left, she would simply consider her little cat or dog to have died; once the old is gone, the new will come, and a woman should always be kind to herself. Since she had left, she wouldn’t dwell on it.

Thinking this way, her heart felt a little lighter.