[To Become a River of Stars] Dong Xiange - Chapter 16

Wang Qi’s gaze was as clinging as the fine drizzle of early spring, falling into his eyes and misting the air around them with a hazy fog.

No longer gentle and refined, nor filled with resentment, for the first time, Wang Qi had shed all pretense. He looked wantonly, unrestrainedly, at the one person he had ever wanted to focus on with his entire being.

“Does Your Highness remember the fourth month of the Xinwei year, on Chunyun Dyke? You once saved someone,” Wang Qi asked softly, his eyes gazing into the distance.

From Shiliu’s observation, Li Xuanci’s usually impassive face—as stoic as a turtle’s shell—was now practically etched with the word “impatient.” He likely didn’t remember. But Wang Qi seemed lost in his memories, completely unaware.

It’s like talking to a wall, she thought, shaking her head inwardly.

“Back then, I had run away from home and was utterly destitute. Those wealthy young masters on the dyke caught me to mock me, demanding I crawl between their legs or be thrown into the river.”

“It was you who saved me.” He looked over with a smile—a smile more genuine and tender than any he had ever shown before.

Li Xuanci didn’t even raise an eyebrow. He had no intention of recalling this “hero saves the beauty” scenario.

Wang Qi probably realized it too. He chuckled lowly. “I know. You were probably just annoyed by the noise those good-for-nothing young masters were making, how it offended your ears, so you stepped in to teach them a lesson.”

“But that day, you passed under the willow branches, flicking your whip to urge your horse forward. You were more dazzling than the sun itself. Compared to you, everyone else was just mud. In that moment, I knew I could never get past this hurdle.”

He was baring his heart, but Shiliu couldn’t help but scratch her back restlessly. Had she accidentally stumbled into a confession scene? She felt utterly… superfluous and awkward.

But Wang Qi knew this was likely the last time he could speak so recklessly. He pressed on, regardless. “I returned home, swallowed my pride. I knew how many people wanted to plant spies by your side. So, I aimed high, used my connections to get here.”

“Among all the charming beauties in this garden, so many are just skeletons in disguise. But I’m different. Only I… only I have true feelings for you!” He grew agitated, his eyes widening, his voice losing its softness and taking on a tinge of venom.

“You knew it too, didn’t you? That’s why you allowed me, only me, to get this close to you.”

“But those women… what are those women? They’re just spies planted to harm you! They should have been content to be kept under watch. How dare they try to get close to you? They’re all vile traitors who want to hurt you—they deserved to die! I had to protect you. I had to protect you!”

A wave of intoxicating ecstasy surged in Wang Qi’s eyes. Unfortunately, the only one intoxicated was himself. He was wholly immersed in his madness, laughing one moment, muttering the next.

Yet, the one he loved so desperately seemed completely unmoved. These frenzied, obsessive emotions only baffled and annoyed Li Xuanci.

“I kept you by my side simply because I thought you were sensible, unlikely to develop unnecessary ideas. I didn’t expect you to become such a nuisance.” Li Xuanci lifted a finger to smooth the wrinkled moon-white cuff of his sleeve. Not a single eyebrow twitched as he spoke indifferently, his gaze no different from how he might look at any inanimate object in the room.

Shiliu pondered inwardly. It seemed the rumors were wrong. All the beautiful servants in this garden were likely spies planted by various factions. Prince Ding had simply taken them all in. That would explain why the surveillance in this compound was so strict.

She looked thoughtfully at Li Xuanci. Could he be doing it on purpose? Accepting them all, watching from the mountain as the tigers fight, waiting for them to expose themselves and then wiping them all out in one go.

It’s just like raising gu. Now, the most venomous Gu King has been bred.

But then she dismissed her own thought. She had only ever heard of Prince Ding wielding blades, swords, and spears—never that he enjoyed using his brain. Such a roundabout method should be something only someone as clever and subtle as her, Shiliu, could come up with.

Shiliu stopped thinking about him and turned to Wang Qi. Her blunt straightforwardness happened to be perfect here. “You talk about others, but you’re the one with the wildest delusions. Even if Prince Ding ever likes men in the future, he’d never like someone as rotten-hearted as you.”

Then she felt an inexplicable chill run down her spine. Shiliu shuddered belatedly, only realizing after a moment that the death glare seemed to be coming from His Highness Prince Ding, whom she had just hypothesized “might like men in the future.”

She swallowed silently and promptly corrected herself, “Of course, Prince Ding definitely likes women—one in each arm, curvaceous and full-figured, with wide hips good for bearing a whole litter.”

Shiliu’s excessive survival instincts and remarkably low emotional intelligence successfully turned Prince Ding’s expression from early winter’s light snow into the deep chill of the coldest days.

Wang Qi let out a low laugh, his voice full of desolation. “Yes, someone like me… how could I ever be loved by His Highness Prince Ding?”

“But… can you, can you look at me one more time? Just one last look?” His trembling voice was filled with a painful, unextinguishable hope, making one almost suspect that tears of blood would soon fall from his eyes.

But this heartfelt affection was like a kite soaked with rain—forever unable to fly to the other shore, only drifting lightly to land at that person’s feet.

And that person didn’t even have the interest to step on and crush it. He simply turned and left, without casting a single glance its way.

Shiliu hesitated for a moment, then chased after him, planning to have someone keep watch over Wang Qi.

She took one last look back at Wang Qi. The lamplight was as small as a bean, flickering and stretching his shadow long and deep against the paper window—a solitary shadow sharp as a knife, cutting through the silent night.

Shiliu’s heart skipped a beat for some reason. In the end, she still chased after Prince Ding. She had just caught up to him in the courtyard when they heard a dull thud from inside the room.

Looking back, on the grey-tiled, grey-walled house with its dim yellow window, a line of blood-red plum blossoms had bloomed.

She stood there frozen, speechless. Her face still wore its usual expression, but her palms were sweaty, cold and sticky—an indescribable feeling.

The person beside her seemed to finally cast a faint glance in that direction. Then, he continued walking forward, leaving all the heartache and sorrow of the entire courtyard behind him.

The next day, everything had returned to normal. Shiliu went to Qiuxin’s place to perform a ritual to exorcise the clay figurine spirit.

When Shiliu arrived, Qiuxin was chanting scriptures in the small Buddhist prayer room in the side chamber. She knelt devoutly on a cushion, chanting softly for a long time before finally rising, her knees somewhat numb, her posture unsteady.

Shiliu caught her. Qiuxin looked surprised, then thanked her very gently. She glanced at the Buddha statue, realizing that as a Taoist priestess, Shiliu shouldn’t really be there, so they went outside together.

The two walked slowly in the courtyard. Shiliu, never talkative with outsiders, was very proper. It was Qiuxin who kept making conversation, repeatedly thanking Shiliu, saying that without her, she would have died unjustly.

“That wouldn’t have happened,” Shiliu suddenly stopped and said, looking into Qiuxin’s eyes. “Wasn’t all of this part of your plan?”