Author Angel Chua
Far Away Stars Raw 10/25/2024
The man in the black hood said, "It seems we are just circling in this maze."
Suddenly, the young assassin exclaimed, "I found a way out!" All three of them ran to see the view.
An endless valley met their eyes. Beautiful butterflies and dragonflies flew by, with swarms of fireflies lighting up the scene, twinkling like stars in the heavens and mesmerizing them.
However, as they looked back, the Thousand Caves had vanished from sight.
The older assassin remembered the old beggar's warning and said, "Your Highness, forgive me, but I think we are not just lost… we are trapped out here!"
Yan Xun removed his hood, showing no fear, and with a hint of nostalgia scanned his surroundings, saying, "As long as we are alive, this is still Earth! This is a great adventure, don't you think? We'll find our way home and beat the odds!"
Yan Xun stepped into the unknown realm. Not even in his dreams had he seen such a place. Yet somehow, he felt peaceful and renewed, as if his worries had faded away like mist in the moonlight.
The young assassin took out his watch and looked at his compass, which pointed to an infinity symbol. He hesitated, not wanting to trouble the King. But Yan Xun, noticing, asked, "What is our direction?" and fell silent when he saw the assassin's unreadable expression.
Yan Xun then saw a hare passing by, and to his delight, took aim with his white-feathered arrows, shooting it swiftly.
The two companions were astonished, not by the kill but by how the King of Yanbei enjoyed each moment in the valley. His demeanor here was different from his usual attitude in the Yanbei war council.
Yan Xun went over to retrieve the hare, then called out, "Hey! What are you doing? Come here! Let's feast!"
The two companions approached, and they cooked the hare together. In all their journeys, they were always prepared, with tools for hunting and cooking. They camped, feeling as though they owned the valley, with no threats looming. Relaxed and carefree, they lay back and gazed at the stars.
Snow whipped against the window of a secluded castle, casting flickering shadows across the dimly lit room. Yuwen Yue stirred a pot over the fire, the golden glow highlighting his finely sculpted features.
Yuwen Yue stood with an air of quiet authority, his pale blue robes flowing gracefully around him, symbolizing both his noble lineage and unshakable composure. The light, ethereal color reflected his reserved personality and the cool detachment with which he approached the world. His expression was calm, almost unreadable, hinting at the deep intelligence and emotional restraint that defined him.
Though outwardly serene, there was an undercurrent of strength and decisiveness in his stance. His sharp, focused eyes suggested a man who observed everything, noticing even the subtlest details. As a master strategist and warrior, Yuwen Yue hid his emotions behind a collected facade, revealing little of his inner thoughts to those around him. This composed exterior made him seem distant, yet those close enough to see past it recognized him as a protector who held his values and loved ones with unwavering loyalty.
The image of Yuwen Yue captured him as a figure of refinement and mystery, embodying the tension between his noble responsibilities and the personal sacrifices he endured in pursuit of justice and honor.
His complex character was defined by sharp intellect, a reserved demeanor, and a deeply-rooted sense of duty. As a member of a prominent noble family in the Wei dynasty, Yuwen Yue possessed a calm yet commanding presence. Trained from a young age to be a skilled warrior and strategist, he upheld family expectations with calculated restraint and tactical skill, both on and off the battlefield. Despite his high status, Yuwen Yue's character was marked by internal struggle; he often felt torn between loyalty to his family and his own desires.
Beneath his calm exterior lay a compassionate soul, though this part of him was often hidden under a mask of indifference, developed through years of self-discipline. His stoic, sometimes cold facade served as a shield against the betrayals and power struggles of his world. However, his emotional walls began to crack upon meeting Chu Qiao, whose bravery and resilience deeply impacted him. Her presence ultimately forced him to confront his own vulnerabilities, showing him that there was more to life than duty.
Time seemed to slow; his every movement was graceful yet purposeful, bearing the quiet dignity of someone who carried the weight of empires. Across from him, Chu Qiao watched, her gaze intense, her beauty softened by the firelight. Her porcelain skin and luminous eyes, framed by dark lashes, glowed with a warmth as fierce as it was delicate. She was a puzzle—a warrior in an alluring form that hid her strength.
Chu Qiao exuded fierce determination, her gaze calm yet intense as she held her sword upright in a symbolic gesture of resilience. Dressed in a striking red robe adorned with intricate patterns, she radiated strength and an unyielding spirit. The deep crimson of her attire signified both passion and defiance, reflecting her unbreakable will and readiness to fight for justice. Her expression was focused and serene, embodying a warrior's composure, her eyes closed as if in silent resolve for the challenges she faced.
The ornate details on her sword symbolized the dignity and honor with which she approached battles; her weapon was more than a tool—it was a testament to her journey from hardship to empowerment. The traditional hair ornament she wore completed the image of a warrior with a noble soul, someone poised between grace and ferocity.
This portrayal of Chu Qiao captured her dual nature: the softness of her compassion and the steel of her resolve. She was both a protector and a fighter, driven by a sense of justice as unyielding as the blade she wielded.
Chu Qiao was an inspiring character marked by an unbreakable will, resilience, and a deep sense of justice. From humble, oppressed origins, she rose to challenge the injustices of her world with remarkable courage and tenacity. Chu Qiao's story was one of transformation; she evolved from a slave into a formidable fighter who refused to be confined by her circumstances. Strategic and sharp-minded, she often outwitted those who underestimated her.
Unlike Yuwen Yue, whose emotions were tempered by years of restraint, Chu Qiao wore her passions openly. Her sense of justice and empathy were unwavering, and she often risked herself to protect the innocent. Through her encounters with Yuwen Yue, Chu Qiao's character deepened as she learned to balance defiance with patience. Together, they shared a powerful dynamic: while Yuwen Yue helped temper her impetuous nature, she challenged him to reconsider his strict adherence to duty.
"Well, this is a sight I never thought I'd see—Yuwen Yue cooking," she remarked dryly. "I guess the world really is ending."
He glanced at her, unamused. "Apparently, my reputation can't withstand something as simple as making soup," he replied, his voice cold but laced with irony. "I thought you might be used to surprises by now."
Chu Qiao smirked, her words tinged with mock admiration. Oh, I've had my share with you, believe me. Like our wedding, for instance. You arranged it faster than I could blink—then the engagement followed before I could catch my breath. Very…efficient."
Yuwen Yue raised an eyebrow. "Efficiency. I thought you might appreciate it. If I recall, you didn't complain."
She shot him a pointed look. "Maybe because I thought you meant it. Funny, I felt more like a strategy or test than a bride."
Yuwen Yue's gaze didn't waver. "A strategy?" He gave a slight, humorless smile. "You think I'd risk everything just to add another strategist to my council?"
"Who knows," Chu Qiao retorted, though her voice softened, her voice faltering. "It wouldn't be the first time you hid your true intentions, Yuwen Yue."
They locked eyes, tension thickening the air between them. The fire popped, breaking the silence. Finally, Yuwen Yue turned back to the pot, his movements controlled.
"My intentions were always clear, Chu Qiao, though perhaps too clear for you to see."
"Oh, I saw them," she shot back. "Ra Yue was the man I loved, who didn't hide, who let me in, even when everything else was uncertain. I didn't see the guarded, distant Yuwen Yue in him."
A flicker of something flashed in his gaze—hurt, or something more vulnerable. He forced a chuckle, low and humorless. "You think Ra Yue was different? He was a disguise, maybe, but the heart and feelings—those were mine."
Chu Qiao's face softened. "Were they? Because from where I stood, I couldn't tell if Yuwen Yue wanted anything beyond control. Ra Yue gave me something real, something you keep buried."
He set the ladle down, his patience waning as he leaned toward her. "If I don't show my hand as you'd like, it doesn't mean the feeling isn't there," he said, frustration lacing his voice. "I am who I am, and I won't apologize."
She looked away, though a faint smirk tugged at her mouth. "Typical Yuwen Yue. All stone and cold logic."
"Stone, yes. But cold?" His voice softened. "You think I postponed that honeymoon because I lost interest? That I didn't want you by my side?" His gaze narrowed. "Don't flatter yourself. I postponed because I thought you needed time. When I was ready, you left me and took the bird that sang your name every morning. Do you know how hard life is, without it?"
Her eyes snapped back to him, edged with vulnerability. "I had already decided, Yuwen Yue. I left because I loved you. But back then, everything was a mess. I saw too much of Yuwen Yue in Ra Yue… I just couldn't forget."
Yuwen Yue held her gaze, softening briefly. "Maybe I thought it was you who couldn't decide. You never could quite separate me from Yan Xun and, to complicate things, almost convinced me you loved that Foxy Emperor in Liang!"
Chu Qiao scoffed, her voice wavering. "Yan Xun?" Her gaze dropped, her voice soft. "Others predicted that, even I questioned it. But when I lost you in the lake, I knew it was never Yan Xun. And Xiao Ce? He gave me the moon and stars, knowing full well I loved Ra Yue—the one who seemed free of all this weight, who could laugh and care, even if he never said it."
Yuwen Yue looked at her, his stoic expression softening. "Then understand this: Ra Yue was no different than I am now. He is a glimpse beneath the titles. My feelings have never changed."
Chu Qiao blinked, regret and understanding flickering across her face. "Maybe I needed you to show it."
He moved closer, the hint of a smile fading into something earnest.
"If I haven't made it clear by now, then maybe I've already failed you."
She looked up, her defenses down, her voice barely a whisper. "I think you're the only one who hasn't failed me, Yuwen Yue."
For once, he didn't reply with sarcasm. He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek as he looked at her, all pretense fading. "Then let's put the past where it belongs," he murmured, his voice soft yet resolute, "and try to find something real."
Yuwen Yue gazed into Chu Qiao's eyes, his expression intense as he moved closer, lingering and wanting her, here and now, with no one to hold them back.
In his unspoken words, Yuwen Yue told her all self-preservation is canceled now. Xing'er, You can't go anywhere. Let's face this—there is no tomorrow.
Yuwen Yue kissed her deeply, and Chu Qiao did not hesitate.
She had tasted this kiss before and missed it dearly. Her eyes welled with tears as she closed them, her lips pressed against his, her mind drifting back to stolen glances and whispered promises. Every day, she had wished for this moment.
Chu Qiao managed to hold Yuwen Yue's face and whispered, "You never knew how I wished for you every day. When I lost you… I died in that icy lake, my breath frozen. Losing you was losing myself."
Yuwen Yue gazed at her with an allure he'd never shown before, moved by her words he had longed to hear. "Wishful thinking… My dreams came true that day—kissing you before I thought I'd die. In that icy lake, I closed my eyes, thinking it would be the last time I'd see Xing'er's eyes."
Yuwen Yue's kiss deepened, wanting Chu Qiao to respond freely, without shame or thoughts of past roles or ranks.
His ears turned red, his veins pulsing with emotions he had never before allowed himself to feel.
Chu Qiao responded, her lips meeting his, and a flutter spread through her like a hundred butterflies.
"What is this…?" she softly moaned, pausing. "Yuwen Yue, I feel…" She stopped. Yuwen Yue continued, whispering against her lips.
"Let it go, Xing'er…"
Between kisses and shared breaths, Yuwen Yue's touch explored her neck, filling her senses with the familiar scent of plum blossoms, mingling with the scent of early May rain.
"This is my reward," she thought, "the scent of the Fourth Young Master that hasn't changed."
Yuwen Yue trailed more kisses down her neck, his lips never stopping. Hearing her breathless sounds, he murmured, "Release it, Xing'er, don't hold back."
Chu Qiao, now without strength to resist, felt the long-held feelings bloom. With each touch, each breath, Yuwen Yue was claiming her entirely.
His hands drifted down, finding her warmth, lingering gently, cherishing her as delicately as a lotus in bloom.
Chu Qiao felt her sanity is slipping. "Yuwen Yue, please…" she begged, a voiceless moan escaping her lips as she surrendered.
He looked at her, ensuring she was okay, before saying, "I'm sorry, but tonight, Xing'er, I won't stop. All these years… Why hide your feelings from me? This has always been for me."
Yuwen Yue had just begun to grasp the depth of Chu Qiao's hidden feelings, feelings buried for so long, now flowing freely.
"You were right about me," he murmured. "I was foolish to think you didn't care. I'll regret that every day, but I'll never let you hide from me again."
Yuwen Yue repeated his tender touches explored her like an undiscovered forest full of secrets, until Chu Qiao was left speechless, a contented sigh her only reply.
"How could you mask these feelings?" he whispered, his breath warm against her ear." You've buried these feelings so deep, but they're mine now. All for me."
"We might have died without ever knowing them, buried alongside us."
Chu Qiao's tears fell, but she understood now. Yuwen Yue's resolve was set; he was here to create her happiness alongside his own.
After years apart, with words left unsaid, Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao had found each other again. This, though belated, was their reunion, filled with sweetness and the release of long-hidden emotions.
Outside, the relentless snow buried the castle, and icy layers cloaked it in silence. Yet, within the walls, the rulers had retreated from the world, their presence absent from the throne. Could they remain here, hidden, before duty pulled them back?
Inside, a loud crackling sound broke the stillness—a pot had boiled over in the kitchen, spilling and scorching. The smoke filled the room, but Yuwen Yue only gazed at Chu Qiao, undisturbed by the small disaster.
Finally, he shook his head, smiling slightly as he reached for her. "I hate this," he murmured, pulling her close. "Just give me a minute?"
Still drenched in his scent, Chu Qiao teased, "Sure. I'd rather not be roasted alive tonight."
Yuwen Yue chuckled, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Roasted alive?" he echoed, his voice serious yet gentle. "Even if death itself tried to take you from me, it would fail. Nothing—no fire, no threat from Yanbei, not even death—can separate us."
Chu Qiao's playful expression softened, her gaze dropping. Yuwen Yue's words stirred her deeply, her fears mixed with desires she had scarcely voiced.
"Yanbei?" she asked with a faint smile. "I thought we were long past that."
His expression turned thoughtful, his gaze unwavering. "Some things, like love and loyalty, can't be settled or silenced," he whispered. "Not even by time."
Yuwen Yue wrestled with the fire, determined to keep the flames from spreading. He pulled the charred pot off the stove, only to find the soup reduced to a blackened, inky sludge. "Well, that's a waste," he muttered, shaking his head in resignation.
Chu Qiao paused, her gaze drifting as she considered his words, realizing the deeper meaning they carried. "You know," she said quietly, her voice softened with thought, "for a time, I imagined staying in Yanbei for the rest of my life. The endless grasslands and the forever snow felt like they'd swallowed me whole, turning everything cold, distant—even me." She hesitated, her eyes lost in memory. "It's a different kind of cold. You don't feel it at first. It just…numbs you, deep down."
Yuwen Yue watched her, the familiar glint of understanding in his gaze.
"But maybe I needed it," she continued, a faint smile touching her lips. "That coldness taught me things warmth never could. It showed me what kindness and warmth really mean—things I might never have learned otherwise."
Yuwen Yue turned away from the scorched pot with a resigned sigh, his gaze falling on Chu Qiao. Despite his usual cold demeanor, he couldn't shake the warmth blooming inside him—an odd feeling of closeness he hadn't allowed himself to indulge in before. Silently, Chu Qiao stood and went to set about preparing tea, reaching for a small wooden tray and arranging delicate cups, her hands moving with practiced grace.
"Wait here," she murmured, disappearing briefly before returning with a small assortment of late-night treats: a bowl of bao bing (flaky pastry filled with sweet red bean paste), a plate of gui hua gao (fragrant osmanthus flower cakes), and shuang pi nai (a creamy, double-skin milk custard).
She poured the tea slowly, watching the steam curl up, its warm, earthy aroma filling the air between them. Setting a cup in front of Yuwen Yue, she allowed himself a long, lingering look, admiring the way the firelight played across his face. Despite the cold stone walls around them, there was a glow in his eyes, a spark that seemed to say goodbye to her guarded heart.
Taking a slow sip, he said, "You always speak of Yanbei's coldness. But…you don't miss it, do you?"
Chu Qiao took a moment to answer, her hands wrapped around the tea cup, letting the warmth seep into her skin. "I don't know if it's something you can 'miss,'" she replied softly, "but Yanbei is a part of me. I learned survival there—the kind that reaches beyond battlefields." She gave him a sideways glance. "It's the place where I learned who I could trust and who I could not."
Yuwen Yue felt the faintest trace of a smile tug at the corners of his lips. "Trust can be as brittle as ice on a winter morning. Did you know why I came to Yanbei that day?"
Chu Qiao didn't respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the tea swirling in her cup. "Yes and no. Yes because I think, in a way, you trust me more than anyone else," she admitted. "You're like the mountains that break the wind—always there, always standing firm. But…you're not an easy man to understand. so I say no."
"Nor are you," he replied, his voice softened but steady. "But that doesn't mean we aren't meant to understand each other."
She looked up, surprised by the tenderness in his words, but he only returned a cool, enigmatic gaze, maintaining the calm mask he always wore. Beneath that expression, though, Yuwen Yue felt an intensity swelling in his chest. He had always prided himself on his restraint, his calculated decisions, yet here he was, entirely captivated by her presence.
He poured them both more tea, feeling the weight of each passing moment, the gravity of their unspoken words. "Do you ever wonder," he began, his voice a low murmur, "if we've spent too much time fighting battles outside and forgotten the ones within ourselves?"
Chu Qiao looked thoughtful. "Sometimes I do. But I've also come to realize that those battles, however lonely or painful, can be the very thing that shapes us. They remind us of what's worth fighting for, what we'd die to protect."
Yuwen Yue let her words sink in, his expression hardening slightly. Beneath his composed exterior, he was deeply moved. To him, Chu Qiao was more than just an ally or a companion—she was the very reason he continued to hold onto his strength. The knowledge that she depended on him, relied on his unwavering resolve, was both a burden and a gift he cherished more than he'd ever admit.
He reached across the table, brushing his fingers lightly against her hand, the smallest gesture that spoke more than words. "Know this, Chu Qiao," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "As long as I draw breath, you'll never be alone. Not fire, not Yanbei, not even death will take you from me."
Barely above a whisper, Chu Qiao's voice trembled with the memories. "When they told me about you," she began, her voice soft yet steady, "I knew that even if there was only a one percent chance it was true, you'd go. You couldn't bear to leave even the smallest hope unchecked. But when you discovered it was a trap—that you'd been right, that 99 percent of it was a lie—you made sure Yanbei felt the weight of his betrayal. You taught Yan Xun a lesson he'd never forget, one he'd regret the moment he tried to use me to deceive you."
She paused, a shadow crossing her face. "But that day changed him," she continued, her voice low and haunted. "After that, Yan Xun didn't just seek revenge. He was consumed, driven by a hunger for blood rather than justice. His heart was hardened, and his vision clouded. He no longer saw a battlefield but a bloodbath, thirsty not for vengeance, but for the thrill of power."
Her eyes fell, and her voice grew firmer, as if sealing her own fate. "And so, I cut myself from him. What happened to Yuegong that day, I, Chu Qiao, am no longer bound by the hem of his robe. I no longer care what Yan Xun does or where his path leads." Her voice softened, yet a note of defiance lingered. "It doesn't concern me anymore."
Yuwen Yue listened intently, his gaze unwavering as her words grew in intensity.
"He tried to restrain me," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "He sent men, arrows, and walls to block my way. But I was beyond his reach, beyond his orders or his fury. I no longer walked in that world. All I knew—all I cared about—was that massacre is unforgivable, and you. I knew you would face him, no matter the cost, to teach him that lesson. Even if it meant your life, your reputation, your title…"
Her voice faltered, but she pressed on, each word thick with emotion. "You didn't fear his armies, his forces. You were willing to sacrifice everything. And in that moment, I knew that you would be there until the last breath. That's when I realized—I'd lost him to his darkness, but you…"
"That day, you stood alone on the icy lake, surrounded by your the Eyes of God servants and assassins. You faced The World and his 200,000 cavalry with only 300 men. I watched you, being peeled layer by layer by those loyal few, and my heart almost stopped. There was blood on your Hanfu, dripping down, staining the snow like its claiming you soon." She swallowed hard, her voice breaking. "Your sword was bathed in that red mist. You looked so proud, so resolute…but I could see it. I saw it in the way you stood, the sweat beading on your brow—you were barely holding on, all of this just because of me?" I know better now.
Yuwen Yue moved closer, his gaze holding a mixture of understanding and sorrow. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly over hers, anchoring her in that fragile moment. "You may have cut yourself off from him," he said quietly, "but he wasn't willing to lose control over you without a fight. Yet, even with all that's happened… despite the paths we've taken, everyone was lost that day." He paused, his voice faltering slightly. "Even I was lost—lost the moment you left Yan Xun. I found myself finding answers, but in that moment, I found the meaning of life… through you."
A bittersweet smile flickered across Chu Qiao's face. Her eyes softened, brimming with a rare vulnerability. "How could I abandon you?"
All of my battle plans faded. My time and tested strategies dried up. All I knew was that I had to get to you," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I begged The World to stop, to let this pass, to turn the odds just once in your favor. But…he didn't. I saw you fall. I saw the last sign of life leave your eyes, and I felt my heart stop with yours." she whispered, her voice scarcely more than a breath.
"After everything, I had nothing left but the memory of your kindness, Yuwen Yue. I feel as though I owe you not just one lifetime, but countless ones. And for that… I'd give anything. Even my life."
A flicker of pain crossed Yuwen Yue's face, though he stayed silent, listening intently.
Yuwen Yue's hand tightened around hers, his heart laid bare in that single gesture. "You owe me nothing," he replied softly, his voice firm. "Your presence alone is more than I ever thought I'd have. The world could turn against us, but as long as I have you by my side…" He paused, gathering his strength. "I would live, I would die, and I would come back a thousand times over."
Yuwen Yue's gaze lingered on her, his face drawn with both admiration and something deeper, fiercer—a devotion he'd never allowed himself to show. "And that's why I returned, Chu Qiao," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Not because of duty or pride, but because of you. You are my purpose… the reason I fought my way back from death."
Silence hung between them, the air heavy with shared pain and memory. Then, unable to hold back any longer, Yuwen Yue moved closer hugged Chu Qiao and let her feel his heartbeat as gentle as the first snowfall, his expression shadowed by anguish, yet softened by something deeper.
"I thought I died that day," he said, his voice barely above a murmur. He reached out, his hand brushing her cheek, his touch warm against her cool skin. "But somewhere in that darkness, between life and death, I saw your face. I screamed, over and over, telling myself I couldn't be dead. I wouldn't be dead. I swore I'd come back—back to you."
His gaze held hers, intense and unwavering. "And then, I don't know how, but I felt the ice above me begin to crack, and light poured in, and I knew—I knew you were there. You brought me back."
Chu Qiao's breath caught, her eyes filling with unshed tears. She had always known he was strong, but to hear him speak this way, raw and unguarded, made her realize that he wasn't just strong for himself—he was strong for her, too.
Yuwen Yue's face softened, and a rare, almost fragile smile crossed his lips. "Then let the world try," he whispered back, his voice steady but laced with quiet defiance. "It won't win. Not this time."
They stayed that way, bound together by the shared memory of a love that had defied death, and a promise stronger than any oath.
The weight of his words hung between them, and for once, Chu Qiao was silent, meeting his gaze with a mixture of understanding and admiration. Yuwen Yue's stoic expression remained, yet his eyes revealed a depth of feeling that he'd long kept hidden—a devotion as fierce and unwavering as the mountains she had likened him to.
And in that moment, perhaps, that was all they needed.