The Arrow Between Us

“Gu Yi.”

I called his name once.

He didn’t answer. His gaze, tender as water, rested instead upon Jin Xiu. Even his voice softened when he spoke to her.

“What are your orders, Your Highness?”

Jin Xiu toyed lazily with a silver hairpin.
I recognized it instantly—it was the same one Bai Xi had once used to slice through Jin Xiu’s robe, humiliating her in front of an entire court. Later, I’d sold that hairpin for a few taels of silver.
That must have been how Jin Xiu found me.

How foolish of me.

With a sharp snap, Jin Xiu broke the hairpin in half and tossed it into the grass.
“I heard,” she said, her voice silk over steel, “that Lady Bai was once an old acquaintance of yours. After so long apart, shouldn’t you at least greet her, Your Grace?”

Gu Yi turned his head slowly toward me.
When he spoke, his voice was cold and still as stagnant water.
“I don’t know her.”

My heart plummeted.
It was as if I had fallen into a bottomless pit.

Before I agreed to marry Zhao Xiao, I had imagined this moment countless times.

If I ever met Gu Yi again—what would he be like?
I thought he would have grown into a man towering as a tree—strong, confident, no longer the fragile, refined youth I once knew.
I imagined he might already have wives and children, an entire household bustling with laughter.
I imagined, even then, that he might still remember me—the wild little creature called Qiao Qiao who had lived beside him for months, who he once kept as a pet of sorts.

I’d imagined every scenario—even one where his hair had turned silver, his teeth had fallen out, and he lay dying, smiling faintly as we met one last time.

But I had never imagined this—
That he would look me in the eye
and not recognize me at all.

Gu Yi.
You said you loved me.
You said you liked me.
Then why did you forget me?

He couldn’t hear my thoughts. His indifferent eyes flicked briefly to the hands Zhao Xiao and I held tightly together—then turned away.

I steadied myself. This was no time for heartbreak.
The only thing that mattered now was getting Zhao Xiao out alive.

Just as I was about to make up an excuse to send him away, he stepped forward instead, blocking me protectively with his body.
“Qiao Qiao, run!” he barked.

His voice trembled slightly, but he stood firm. In his hand was a woodcutter’s axe—rusty, dull, utterly useless against either of them.

“These two mean trouble,” he said. “I’ll hold them off. You must go!”

He rolled up his sleeves, baring thin, pale arms.

I almost laughed.
This man could hardly wring a chicken’s neck—and yet here he was, ready to die for me.

A warmth spread in my chest, tangled with guilt.
Zhao Xiao had always placed me first, in every circumstance.
And I—fool that I was—had been mourning another man in front of him.

What a wretch I was.

I slapped my forehead, forcing a smile.
“Oh! That’s right—I knew I’d forgotten something important! Turns out I forgot them.”

Pointing toward Jin Xiu and Gu Yi, I said cheerfully,
“Zhao Xiao, let me introduce you. These are two dear old friends I met in Yingzhong. This is Princess Jin Xiu, and this is Prince Gu Yi. We’ve known each other for years, and I must have been terribly rude not to invite them to our wedding.”

Zhao Xiao frowned. “Qiao Qiao, what are you saying? They clearly didn’t come here in peace—”

I waved him off, laughing.
“Oh, nonsense! They’re just teasing me. That’s how they are—strange tempers, that’s all. How about this—you go to the market and buy some wine and food. I’ll catch up with them for a while.”

Jin Xiu’s mocking laughter sliced through the air.

Zhao Xiao didn’t buy it. He gripped my hand tightly.
“Don’t try to deceive me,” he said hoarsely. “We’ve already bowed to Heaven and Earth—you’re my wife now. Life and death, we face together. I won’t leave you here in danger.”

I sighed. The man was stubborn as a mule.

“Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “Then let’s be honest.”

I stomped my foot, tearing off my red bridal robe, and thrust it into his hands.

“The ceremony’s done, but we haven’t drunk the wedding wine. That means it’s not official yet. So guess what—”

I glared at him.
“I’m not marrying you. Get lost!”

A breeze stirred, scattering two petals across the ground.

Zhao Xiao stared at me, eyes turning red.
“Qiao… Qiao Qiao, what did you say?”

“I said,” I repeated loudly, “I’m not marrying you! Deaf, are you? Go!”

He gave a broken laugh, voice raw.
“I knew it. I knew you still had someone else in your heart. Now he’s here, and you’re throwing me away?”
He pointed at Gu Yi, trembling.
“Is that it? You’re going with him, aren’t you?”

“What nonsense!” I snapped, raising my voice until it echoed across the field.
“I said I’m not marrying anyone! Even if Heaven itself came down, I still wouldn’t marry!”

Before he could answer, I struck him with a hand chop.
He crumpled silently to the ground.

I laid him down gently, sighing.
“Even a wedding can’t go right,” I murmured. “Forgive me.”

Though unconscious, two tears slid down his cheeks.
I brushed his hair tenderly. “I’m not abandoning you.”

From behind came the sound of clapping.

Jin Xiu was smiling, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
“What a performance,” she said sweetly. “Truly, a fine show.”

I shot her a cold glance, kicked off my embroidered shoes—they were new, too expensive to ruin—and said, “You’ll understand soon enough.”

Jin Xiu turned to Gu Yi with a smile that could slice glass.
“Your Grace, my hands are empty and bored. Fetch me a pretty trinket to play with—say, her right eye.”

Gu Yi nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

I cursed under my breath and ran.

Two arrows hissed past me, striking the ground exactly where I’d been standing.
Cold sweat poured down my back.

Gu Yi’s archery had grown even sharper.

I plunged into the forest.
He followed.

The world was green and alive.
Leaves brushed my face, branches clawed at my sleeves.
Everywhere I passed, startled birds burst skyward in black flocks.

Gu Yi didn’t hurry.
He moved at a measured pace, loosing arrow after arrow—each one grazing me, biting into my flesh.

One in the arm.
One in the thigh.
Another in the heel.

He was playing a game—cat and mouse—and he was enjoying it.

Once, long ago, when we’d been enemies, he used to chase me too.
But then, he’d always let me escape—
only to reappear when I thought I was safe, smiling as he raised his bow.

“Will you come back quietly,” he would ask, “or shall I shoot you into a hedgehog first?”

I’d grumble and yield, already planning my next escape.
Because I knew—then—he wouldn’t kill me.
He might hurt me, tease me, but never truly harm me.

Now, though, the man behind me meant every shot to kill.

I tore out two arrows from my shoulder, blood streaming down.
Grabbing a handful of dirt, I pressed it against the wound.

“Had enough fun, Bai Xi?” I growled aloud.

A giggle echoed in my mind.
“Not yet. You’re not suffering enough.”

I crouched beneath a tree, panting. The sound of footsteps drew closer.
“Bai Xi,” I hissed, “if I’m caught, they’ll take my eye. That’s your body too. You’re really going to let that happen?”

Her voice was lazy, mocking.
“I don’t want to, but that depends on you.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you merge with me,” she said, “you can use my power. Then not even ten Gu Yis could stand against you.”

A chill went down my spine.

Merge? That meant she’d devour me—erase me.

My voice shook. “Bai Xi… remember the day you crashed that banquet? You didn’t merge with me then—you just took control for a bit. Couldn’t you do that again? Just this once? Please.”

Silence stretched long. Then her voice came, faint and cold.
“It’s not that I won’t help you. My spirit is too weak now. I can’t hold the body.
If you want to live, there’s only one way—merge.”

I didn’t know if she was lying. I didn’t have time to find out.

Gu Yi’s footsteps were nearly upon me.

I darted forward.
Pain exploded as an arrow pierced my shoulder and pinned me to a tree.

He emerged from the shadows.

The once warm light in his eyes was gone.
They were dark and empty now—like a still, dead pond reflecting my own fear.

“Gu… Gu Yi…”

I stammered, forcing a trembling smile, praying something—anything—might stir his memory.

But he said nothing.

In a flash, he dropped his bow and seized my throat, slamming me back against the tree.

Pain shot through me. The wound reopened, hot blood trickling down my chest.

He freed one hand, tracing a cold fingertip along my lips.
The calluses scraped rough against my skin, leaving trails of pain.
Then, oddly, he touched his own lips, as if comparing the feeling.

My face flushed crimson—not from embarrassment, but from lack of air.

“Gu… Gu Yi…”

I kicked, gasping. He seemed oblivious, lost in some trance.
Only when I was on the verge of fainting did he finally release me.

I fell, coughing violently.

“Gu… Gu Yi,” I rasped. “Were you trying to strangle me?”

He blinked. His expression flickered briefly.
“The Princess wants your eye,” he said slowly. “Not your life.”

I froze.

He stepped closer.
I backed away until the roots of a tree stopped me cold.

Fine. If this was how it would end—then so be it.

“Go on, then,” I spat. “Take it. Stop wasting time.”

He crouched before me, catching my chin between his fingers. His other hand brushed my lips again, slow and deliberate.

I dared not move.

“You married another man,” he murmured.

His voice was ice.

The words made no sense.

Of course I had married Zhao Xiao—what of it?
And wasn’t he the one engaged to Princess Qing Lun?

A bitter laugh escaped me. Even now, with reason buried deep beneath enchantment, he still sounded jealous.

I straightened my back, meeting his empty eyes.
“I married who I chose,” I said. “What’s it to you?”