Chapter Forty: How to Mend a Broken Heart

With a sharp crack, the rowdy surroundings fell abruptly silent. All eyes turned to Meng Youyuan, whose right cheek, once fair and delicate, now bore a vivid red handprint. Everyone was stunned, unable to comprehend why Lan Bingxian, usually so gentle and indulgent toward Meng Youyuan, would deliver such a harsh blow. Meng Youyuan herself simply stared at the ground, dazed, her neatly arranged hair now disheveled by the force of that unexpected slap. A loose strand drifted down, resting across the red mark, making the entire scene all the more heartrending.

No one knew what to do; every breath was held, as if any sound might draw the wrath upon themselves.

Suddenly, Meng Youyuan seemed to come to herself. She raised a hand and gently touched her stinging cheek. A glimmer of light flickered in her eyes, banishing the shadow that clouded them just moments before. She looked straight at Lan Bingxian, who stood rooted to the spot, and said, “I’ll take this slap as nothing more than a blow struck in your worry for me. But I ask you to truly consider: was it really out of concern for me that you stopped me from competing, or was it simply that you couldn’t bear the pain if I were hurt—or worse, if I died? Have you always cared only for your own feelings, comforted so long as you are at ease, while my feelings are worth nothing in your eyes?”

She spoke these words with remarkable calm, showing no tears, no heartbreak, no loss of control. Instead, she was startlingly composed, a tranquility that made everyone watching fear for her. They knew that only when she suffered the greatest blow did she put on such a mask of indifference. Surely, this slap had branded itself deep into her heart. In their eyes, this wound was far more unbearable than the truth of her origins, more excruciating than anything else she had faced.

Having spoken, Meng Youyuan turned and walked away. Her figure seemed even frailer and more helpless than usual, tugging at Lan Bingxian’s heart with every step she took. He longed to rush after her, to hold her tightly, to fold her into his arms and reassure her, to keep her from wandering so lost. But he could not move. His feet felt chained by invisible iron, heavy beyond measure, and all his struggle could not break the hold. He could only watch Meng Youyuan slip away, powerless to stop her or comfort her. In that moment, he loathed his own impulsiveness, that in a fit of anger, without thought, he had struck the one he loved most. Now, terror gripped him—the fear that this careless slap had shattered the bond they had built over years, broken her heart just as it was beginning to heal.

Yanxue Su and Lan Wu hurried after Meng Youyuan, but neither dared to speak, afraid that a single misplaced word might deepen her wound. All they could do was silently keep her company, hoping to remind her she was not as alone as she felt. Meanwhile, Yushang dragged the dazed Lan Bingxian forward, while Xiaoyin and the others exchanged helpless glances before trailing after them. No one spoke along the way; each heart was tangled with worry, uncertain how to restore peace after this storm.

They returned to their rooms in a heavy, oppressive silence. Before long, Yanxue Su and Lan Wu made their way to Meng Youyuan’s door, coincidentally encountering those seeking Lan Bingxian. They exchanged nods, wordlessly agreeing to help soothe both parties, to let this matter fade with the wind, and perhaps mend the broken bond between the two lovers.

A gentle knock sounded at Meng Youyuan’s door. She looked toward the sound and sighed softly, “Come in.”

Yanxue Su and Lan Wu entered quietly. Seeing Meng Youyuan sitting by the window, gazing at the sky, they spoke in unison, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Meng Youyuan replied with a smile that seemed natural enough. Yet they could see the hidden devastation behind her beautiful facade. They knew her heart had been shattered into dust, on the verge of vanishing from her body. Wounds scarcely described what she now bore; a heart bled dry could scarcely feel further pain. Seeing her like this, Yanxue Su and Lan Wu could not help choking up.

“How could you be fine? I too have suffered the pain of being hurt by the one I loved. That isn’t something you can just smile away.” Yanxue Su sat beside her, clasped her hand, and spoke with gentle earnestness. The scene stirred a sense of kinship in Lan Wu, who could almost feel the echo of Yanxue Su’s own long-ago heartbreak.

“Don’t we know you by now? The more you say you’re fine, the deeper your wound must be. Aren’t we sisters? Why is it that, no matter how much it hurts, you’d rather bear it alone than let us share your burden?” Lan Wu’s voice held a note of reproach, but more than that, it was filled with concern.

“Why must you tear away my disguise, forcing the shattered remnants of myself to stand bare before you? Yes, I do wish someone would hold me in my darkest moments and say, ‘Don’t be afraid, I’m here—even if the sky falls, I’ll shield you.’ But when I’m trying so hard to let the pain pass, why must you rip away my mask, leaving me exposed and bleeding before you?” Meng Youyuan’s words were tinged with helplessness. She, too, longed for a space to call her own.

“Don’t put on that distant, unapproachable look. Truly, that expression doesn’t suit you at all. Even if you say crueler, colder things to us, we won’t take them to heart, because we know that’s not what you truly feel. You just want to push us away from your pain, to spare us from suffering with you,” Yanxue Su replied, each word striking true. No matter how hard Meng Youyuan tried to hide, she could never deceive these two women who understood her so well. Perhaps only women can truly understand women.

“I’m so foolish—always failing. You see right through me every time. It puts so much pressure on me, always making you share my grief, my inexplicable tears. Am I really that useless, always troubling you, never able to bear your burdens in turn?” At last, Meng Youyuan’s defenses crumbled, and she spoke the truth that had long been buried in her heart.

“How could you think that? You are not our trouble, but a sister more precious than gold. Tell me, if your sister were in trouble, would you stand by and do nothing? If it were us in distress, would you heartlessly leave us behind and go about your life as if nothing happened?” Lan Wu’s tone was tinged with anger—anger at Meng Youyuan’s insistence on undervaluing herself. She wanted Meng Youyuan to understand she was not a burden, but an irreplaceable presence in their circle, a beloved sister they could never lose.

“But...” Meng Youyuan tried to speak, but the words died in her throat.

“What could possibly drive you to risk your very life to take part in the competition? What made you say such hurtful things to Lan Bingxian, wounding not just him but yourself as well?” Yanxue Su pressed, unable to comprehend what had changed Meng Youyuan’s heart so suddenly, making her desperate to escape from the love Lan Bingxian had built around her.

“Yes, you’re not someone who acts unreasonably, or seeks to hurt others on purpose. What happened?” Lan Wu echoed her confusion, recalling how Meng Youyuan had seemed like a stranger ever since she took up the sword.

“Since childhood, Brother Xian has cared for me deeply, always putting my needs above his own. He would give up anything for my sake, and I’ve basked in his love, unable to pull myself away. But when Grandmaster returned my sword in the cabin and spoke of the magical pool, I saw for the first time that burning, longing look in his eyes. I knew he wanted to explore the depths of that pool. Yet when his gaze fell on me, that yearning faded. I could guess what he was thinking—afraid that if he encountered danger and never returned, I would be left alone, miserable without his protection. So, for my sake, he gave up his dream again. I didn’t want him to go to such a dangerous place, but I couldn’t selfishly hold him back from chasing his dreams. That’s why I wanted to prove to him that I’ve grown up, that I no longer need him to always give up what he wants for me. I wanted to tell him, ‘Youyuan can take care of herself now. Go and pursue your future—I’ll wait for you, safe and sound.’ I can’t be his burden any longer, do you understand?” As she finished, Meng Youyuan broke down in tears. She could not forgive herself for causing Lan Bingxian so much loss, for selfishly enjoying a happiness that brought her beloved only pain, for only now beginning to awaken to the truth.

“So you risked your life in the competition for Lan Bingxian’s sake! I can’t say if what you did was right or wrong, but your love for him moves me deeply, as does his devotion to you,” Lan Wu sighed, moved yet saddened by the exhausting, painful nature of love.

“Even I, who usually see things so clearly, am torn by your choice. On one hand, I admire your sacrifice; on the other, I resent your blind devotion. If you come through the contest unharmed, so much the better—but if you’re hurt, or worse, what then? Separated by life and death, what future could there be for either of you? What would become of your love?” Yanxue Su was equally conflicted. Perhaps, if it were her, she would also sacrifice herself for the one she loved. But seeing her dear sister ready to do something so reckless made her heart ache.

“I just want to do something for him, anything I can, even if it means being shattered in the end. I won’t regret it. I truly want to give back, not just receive his love,” Meng Youyuan said with quiet resolve. It was clear she had made up her mind; no one could sway her.

“You foolish girl,” Lan Wu said tenderly, her heart aching for Meng Youyuan, for loving so deeply and giving so much, yet still misunderstood as being willful and unreasonable. Unable to hold back any longer, she embraced her; Yanxue Su joined them, and the three held each other tightly, weeping together.