My dear Qiniang, Since we parted in the Peach Grove, I went to that banquet with no hope of returning alive.…
My dear Qiniang,
Since we parted in the Peach Grove, I went to that banquet with no hope of returning alive. Then news of Palm Master Fierceness reached me—clear and certain. But enemies crowd ever closer. Those who might help us are dwindling; those who want me dead seem endless. Even with his help, our chances are slim. Without a miracle, the Golden Peach entrusted to me may never reach its end.
I have made my choice: if I fall fighting, I will sink into the Yellow River with the Golden Peach in my arms. Better to fail the trust of a dying friend than let wicked men seize it and spill even more blood. A pitiful end, isn't it? To reach the brink and still fall short. And yet, I take comfort in this—your heart has always understood mine.
Whenever I think of that day when Palm Master Sage told me how the monks gave their lives to protect us, how cooks and healers shed their blood to help... it tears my heart.
And now word comes that our sect has suffered. I cannot avenge it with my own hands; instead, I must bow to our enemies and play along with their lies. The thought leaves me gutted—each tear feels laced with blood.
All the loyalty and courage of those before us now rest with me. If I die, their stories may die too, and the world will remember only "Fang Bai the traitor." Where can I lay down this grief, this devotion?
History is a cold judge. The Golden Peach's journey west is already fading into mystery. Future generations will look at us as we look at those long gone. Who can truly decide the right and wrong of centuries?
But the storm has come, and our elders have fallen. We can only keep walking.
I cannot grow old by your side. I can only hope you return safely to Hollow Vale and spend the rest of your life in peace. And I hope that the love you once gave me, you can give instead to this broken land—to the innocent caught in turmoil, to the lost and the lonely, to those, like you, who still look for light in the midst of bloodshed.
If you can do that, then even my small, unremarkable death will cast a little light on the love you hold.
My heart breaks as I write this. May you know peace, year after year.
Fang Bai