Lin Ting stopped teasing him: “I misspoke.”
She stepped aside to let him enter, acting politely: “Young Master Jin, please come in.”
Jin Anazai twitched his mouth: “You really are ill.”
With that, he stepped inside.
No sooner had he entered than Princess Daiyang arrived: “Leyun.”
She came as a friend to pray for Lin Ting and called her by her childhood name to show closeness.
Lin Ting was stunned: “Princess, you…”
Daiyang climbed the steps, her gaze first resting on Jin Anazai behind Lin Ting, then shifting to Lin Ting herself: “I came to pray for your quick recovery.”
Lin Ting sensed something and stole a glance at Jin Anazai before turning her head back before Daiyang noticed.
Jin Anazai remained silent.
Duan Ling seldom meddled in others’ affairs, and even though he sensed tension between Jin Anazai and Princess Daiyang, he showed no interest in involving himself.
Lin Ting helped hold up her long skirt and led the princess inside: “Please follow me, Your Highness.”
Madam Feng had prepared a courtyard to accommodate the friends and family coming to pray for Lin Ting, and she personally guided them there.
At noon, the prayers began.
A dozen or so monks sat in the courtyard, chanting sutras in unison.
Countless incense sticks burned on either side, the fragrant smoke swirling thickly around.
Madam Feng stood at the front, fingers continuously turning her Buddhist prayer beads, reciting along with the monks.
Li Jingqiu stood nearby, though she could not chant sutras, she repeated a simple phrase, begging the Buddha to protect her daughter Lin Ting and keep her safe.
Li Jingqiu’s voice carried faintly to Lin Ting’s ears.
Lin Ting longed to step forward, embrace her, and assure her she would be fine—that she needn’t worry or grieve any longer.
But she could not do that.
Suddenly, someone took Lin Ting’s hand.
She turned to see Duan Ling, who wasn’t looking at her but at the people chanting in the courtyard.
Following his gaze, Lin Ting saw many familiar faces.
Duan Xinning was among them, wearing a thick cloak that cleverly concealed her rounded belly, avoiding drawing attention.
Next to Duan Xinning was Jin Anazai, much like Li Jingqiu, unable to chant sutras and rough around the edges as a martial world wanderer who preferred action over words.
Yet, he stood upright, clearly taking this blessing ritual seriously. Â
Daiyang was beside Jin Anazai.
She focused intently on the front, not taking the opportunity to speak with Jin Anazai, acting as though she didn’t know him.
In truth, Daiyang envied Lin Ting.
Not just a little, but deeply—jealous to the point of bitterness.
Though she was a princess, few were sincerely devoted to her; most were sycophants putting on a show.
Lin Ting was different.
Many genuinely wished her well, and this was evident even in the prayer ceremony.
Thinking this, Daiyang glanced toward Lin Ting and happened to meet her gaze.
Without revealing her emotions, she composed herself and offered a slight smile.
Daiyang’s pride would not allow her to display even the slightest envy.
Lin Ting withdrew her wandering gaze.
The prayers required writing on Prayer Ribbons.
Servants distributed a ribbon to everyone present. Â
Lin Ting touched the soft red ribbon, seriously considering what she should write on it.
The prayers today were for Lin Ting, and everyone would write wishes for her recovery on their ribbons.
But Lin Ting didn’t want to write those words—she wasn’t truly ill.
Duan Ling lowered his eyes to the Prayer Ribbon.
Prayers?
Prayers were nothing but futile gestures.
His palm gradually clenched, wrinkling the ribbon, then relaxed and smoothed out the creases.
Madam Feng asked Li Jingqiu to write first since she was Lin Ting’s mother.
Li Jingqiu approached the long table, pondered for a moment, then slowly began to write.
Though illiterate and usually poor at writing, her characters on the Prayer Ribbon were remarkably neat and elegant.
When finished, Li Jingqiu looked devout, holding the ribbon in both hands as she climbed the wooden ladder beneath the large tree and tied it to a bare branch.
Soon, it was Lin Ting’s turn.
Without hesitation, she wrote a few lines swiftly on her Prayer Ribbon.
A servant reached out to help hang it, concerned that she might fall climbing the ladder since she was still “ill.”
Lin Ting refused and, under everyone’s watchful eyes, stepped onto the wooden ladder herself, raised her hand, and tied the Prayer Ribbon in place.
The wind blew through her long hair cascading to her waist and the black-red Prayer Ribbon fluttering alongside it.
Beneath the big tree, Duan Ling looked up at her.
Lin Ting seemed to feel Duan Ling’s gaze, lowered her eyes toward him, then climbed down the ladder.
As she descended, Duan Ling placed his Prayer Ribbon on the table, opened it, bent over, and wrote his own blessing.
In less than a moment, he set down his brush and hung his ribbon at the very top of the tree.
Duan Xinning was pregnant and could not climb the ladder for fear of falling, so Zhilan hung her Prayer Ribbon instead.
Jin Anazai had never written a Prayer Ribbon before and was inexplicably nervous.
Ordinarily, he wouldn’t be nervous even when killing a person, but now, he feared making a mistake that might affect the ritual’s efficacy.
He gripped the brush tightly and wrote.
Half an hour later, after everyone finished writing their ribbons, Lin Ting looked up at the tree.
In winter, its leaves long fallen, the big tree was now draped with countless red Prayer Ribbons, suddenly blooming with a thousand scarlet flowers, dazzling and brilliant.
The wind rustled the ribbons, making a soft clattering like leaves brushing each other—full of life.
Even if that life was illusory, it still stirred a fondness and a glimmer of hope in the heart.
Unnoticed, the sky, once clear and bright, had darkened, and the wind picked up, signaling rain.
But once prayers had begun, they could not be interrupted—that would be inauspicious.
So, the monks hastened their chanting as much as possible.
Besides writing Prayer Ribbons, they knelt to the heavens in sequence, from elders to juniors.
Li Jingqiu knelt on a meditation cushion, kowtowing three times each time, muttering, “I ask for nothing else, only for my daughter to live a long life. Please, Buddha, spare my daughter.”
Madam Feng knelt on another cushion, kowtowing three times, softly reciting her blessings.
Duan Father was not good with words but accompanied them in kneeling toward the sky.
Outside the high walls, a carriage was parked.
A member of the Treading Snow Mud Sect lifted the carriage curtain and stepped down, looking up at the towering tree adorned with one Prayer Ribbon after another.
He held a Prayer Ribbon he had bought from the temple, wondering how to hang it on the tree without alerting those inside.
After all, Prayer Ribbons had to be hung during the ritual to be effective; hanging it afterward would not count.
Inside the walls, Lin Ting knelt on the cushion where Li Jingqiu had knelt, and Duan Ling knelt where Madam Feng had knelt.
They exchanged a glance and kowtowed together like they had at their wedding.
A moment later, only Duan Ling stood up.
Lin Ting remained kneeling. Â
He seemed to realize something, turned his face, gently touched her hand, and whispered, “Leyun.”
Others quickly noticed something amiss.
Li Jingqiu immediately pushed them apart and rushed over to Lin Ting, who had fainted and ceased breathing.
“Leyun, open your eyes! Look at your mother!”
Lin Ting’s eyes were closed, her expression peaceful as if asleep, her hands limp by her sides.
Her fingertips brushed against Duan Ling’s hand.
Duan Ling wanted to hold her but grasped only the cold wind, missing completely.
Not far away, Duan Xinning stood frozen, and even Jin Anazai hadn’t reacted.
They were in the middle of praying for Lin Ting—how could she suddenly be like this?
He wanted to move forward to check but feared what he might discover.
Li Jingqiu realized Lin Ting was no longer breathing and screamed in heart-wrenching anguish: “Go find a doctor! Please, hurry!”
Madam Feng hurried to comply: “Right away.”
Only one sentence came from everyone: “Please accept our condolences.”
Since Lin Ting’s strange illness began, the Duan family had kept two doctors on call.
Madam Feng quickly sent for them.
But after checking her pulse, the two doctors had no choice but to admit that Lin Ting had died—on the very day of the blessing ceremony.
Li Jingqiu wept uncontrollably.
The wails came from inside the walls.
At that moment, a gust of wind blew outside the high walls, snatching the Prayer Ribbon from the Treading Snow Mud Sect member’s hand.
He reached out to catch it but stopped when he heard the cries—it sounded like Li Jingqiu’s.
Under what circumstances could she cry like this?
He didn’t try to catch the blown-away ribbon again.
The ribbon, carried by the wind beyond the walls, landed at Duan Ling’s feet.
Written on it were the words: “Wishing this girl, Lin Ting, no illness or disaster… and wishing her mother peace and smoothness.”
Duan Ling stepped on the ribbon lying on the ground and carried Lin Ting’s body from Li Jingqiu’s arms.
Li Jingqiu stood and wiped her tears, her throat sore from crying: “Ziyu, Leyun isn’t dead. She’s just fainted, like before. She’ll wake up soon.”
In fact, Lin Ting’s body was already cold, growing as cold as the winter wind—not as before, but truly dead.
Duan Ling made a soft sound and went back inside.
No one stopped him as he carried Lin Ting’s corpse into the room.
Duan Ling closed the door and looked up, seeing the paper kite Lin Ting had made last night.
He blinked, and a tear silently slid down his face, tracing a path before disappearing without a trace.