Chapter One: I Am Not the Person You're Looking For!

“Wanqing, Wanqing, I’m back! I’ve brought the gourds!” A young woman in red appeared before a girl dressed in pink, brandishing the gourd she had managed to obtain and wearing a triumphant smile. She offered one of the gourds to the girl in pink.

The girl, called Wanqing, reached out and took the gourd without hesitation. Her lips parted, and in an instant, the gourd was gone. The woman in red followed Wanqing’s way of eating, and soon the gourd in her own hand vanished as well.

Wanqing praised her, “Ali, these gourds aren’t bad at all!”

“Of course! You have to see who picked them out!” Feng Xiaoli replied with pride.

Suddenly, the tone of her voice changed. Her expression darkened, eyes flashing, as she said in a low voice, “Aiya! You tricked me again!”

Wanqing, hearing this, didn’t get angry. She only laughed heartily. “Ali, you’re only realizing this now?”

“Wanqing, I am your elder sister in the sect!” Feng Xiaoli bared her teeth and claws, making as if to hit Wanqing.

Wanqing nimbly dodged. Feng Xiaoli had used too much force and couldn’t stop herself, resulting in a dramatic fall to the ground. Wanqing commented, “But, no one ever treats you as their senior!”

Feng Xiaoli didn’t get angry at that, either. It seemed she had heard this exchange countless times and had grown immune to it. She sat down where Wanqing had just been, propping her head on her hand, silent.

Just as Wanqing was about to say something to her, a man in a grey robe appeared before them, holding a folding fan. His face was filled with barely contained excitement, and he tucked his fan away at once.

Feng Xiaoli was puzzled by his excitement and reached out to pull Wanqing away.

The man immediately blocked her path, his joy turning to confusion. In a soft voice, he asked, “Ali, you don’t recognize me? I know what happened a few days ago made you angry, but I had no choice. Once my royal father gives an order, no one can change his mind.”

He sounded apologetic, but his tone carried no real regret.

Feng Xiaoli looked at him with genuine puzzlement. When had she ever met him? She searched her memories but found no trace of this man; she had no idea what he was after. She frowned slightly, then relaxed, her voice cold. “I’m sorry, sir, you have the wrong person.”

Wanqing was thinking the same thing. She and Feng Xiaoli were fellow disciples; they’d known each other for at least five years. How could she not know about Feng Xiaoli’s affairs? This visitor was surely up to no good. She kept silent, watching coldly.

The man hadn’t expected such decisiveness. He paused, then forced a smile. “Ali, you’re truly heartless. I was so good to you—who would have thought you’d be so merciless now, not even acknowledging your prince?”

“Sir, I really don’t know you. Yes, my name is Ali, but I’m not the one you’re looking for. If you truly cared for her, how could you not recognize her personality, her face, her voice? There are plenty of girls called Ali in this world. You must be mistaking me for someone else,” Feng Xiaoli replied, trying to help him see reason.

The man scrutinized her closely. She looked no different from the girl in his memory. If anything, this Ali seemed livelier, her spirit more free, but otherwise, there was no difference.

He convinced himself that Ali was still angry at him and was only pretending not to know him. In the past, a little coaxing would resolve everything, and he thought the same would work now. Yet the imperial decree a few days ago had clearly shaken her—she had thrown it down in public and left, leaving everyone stunned.

Who would have thought that gentle, amiable Feng Xiaoli would lose her temper in front of everyone?

Who would have thought that the seldom-leaving Feng Xiaoli would run away from home?

“Ali, this is not a joke you can make. If you are not Ali, who else could be? There may be other girls with the name Ali, but there’s only one unique Ali in the world.” The man opened his fan and lightly waved it, less for the heat than for show, as if to appear more elegant.

He truly was elegant—handsome, with a smile as dazzling as the sun itself. Any girl would be infatuated at a glance, and indeed, the onlooking girls were swooning. But his gaze remained fixed solely on Feng Xiaoli; no one else could enter his eyes.

Feng Xiaoli studied him carefully. Oddly, she felt a strange sense of familiarity, though she could find no trace of him in her memories, which were filled only with the snowscapes of Misty Mountain, her master, her fellow disciples.

For some reason, she instinctively felt the man was not lying. It seemed he and the “Ali” he sought had a deep relationship, but logically, he should be able to recognize the real Ali—and she wasn’t her.

Having sorted out her thoughts, Feng Xiaoli became even more certain he had mistaken her for someone else.

She glanced at Wanqing, who stood silently by, watching the two with inscrutable eyes. Feng Xiaoli had thought to ask for help, but seeing Wanqing’s amused expression, she abandoned the idea.

“Sir, you are definitely mistaken,” Feng Xiaoli said, her patience wearing thin.

The man could hear the annoyance in her voice. He frowned slightly. Her appearance and personality were indeed different, but that must be the result of the blow from the imperial decree. People change under such stress, after all.

He pondered this, growing more convinced.

Without caring whether Feng Xiaoli agreed or not, he smiled and took her sleeve, pulling her forward. It looked as though the two had always been close.

Feng Xiaoli became indignant. She had made herself perfectly clear, yet he still didn’t understand. Was he naive or just foolish? She pulled her hand away, and though he had only lightly grasped her wrist, she was able to break free easily.

The man looked momentarily stunned.

“I told you already—I’m not the one you’re looking for! Are you done yet?” Feng Xiaoli snapped.

“Ali, speak more elegantly!” Wanqing admonished her.

“Ali, you really don’t recognize me?” the man asked, gripping her hand tightly now.

This time, his grip was firm. Feng Xiaoli couldn’t break free and gave up trying, her expression sour. “Let go of me!”

“So that’s your plan. You’re pretending to have lost your memory just to avoid marriage. Ali, stop being foolish—whether you remember or not, my father’s decree has been issued. Refusal is no longer an option.” His voice grew cold, the playful tone gone.

If earlier he seemed to share a close bond with another, now the change in demeanor suggested something else entirely. Who was he, and who was the “Ali” he sought?

“Come, I’ll take you back. Once you’re home, everything will be clear.” He switched his grip to one hand and began leading her away. Feng Xiaoli called out for Wanqing, who stood unmoved, her expression unchanged from when she’d chided Feng Xiaoli to speak properly.

Wanqing simply watched as Feng Xiaoli was led away.

The more Feng Xiaoli thought about it, the more aggrieved she felt. If only she had focused on her martial arts training, she wouldn’t be in this situation—unable to fight or escape. Even from the brief contact, she could tell the man’s internal strength was formidable. She didn’t stand a chance, so she gave up struggling, deciding to see what would happen. Besides, curiosity gnawed at her—who was this man, and why did he resemble that other so much?

Everything was so bizarre.

The man led Feng Xiaoli forward, and before long they arrived at an ornate mansion. Four large characters hung above the entrance: Prince Chun’s Residence. The gatekeepers, upon seeing the man, greeted him respectfully; he responded with a nod. Inside, he moved as one well acquainted with the place.

Could he be the master here? Or someone with status and influence? Otherwise, why would the guards show him such deference?

Feng Xiaoli fell silent, following him inside. She was determined to get to the bottom of this.

The decorations in Prince Chun’s Residence were exquisite: gardens, little bridges over flowing water, artfully arranged rockeries. Feng Xiaoli’s eyes darted everywhere—she had never seen such a splendid place. Back on Misty Mountain, she lived in a thatched hut on the verge of collapse, with no bridges or water, no rockeries—nothing but endless white snow. Misty Mountain was snowbound all year, trapped in perpetual winter.

Soon, they stopped at a small pavilion.

Feng Xiaoli looked around and couldn’t help but marvel at the crowd gathered there.

All the people had their backs to them and didn’t realize they had arrived. The man called out, “Ali is back!”

On Misty Mountain, Feng Xiaoli was considered simple, but she was by no means foolish. She could clearly sense the jealousy, envy, and reluctance in the eyes that turned her way.

“Ali!” A middle-aged man hurried forward, gripping her shoulders tightly, his face alight with the same irrepressible excitement as the man in the street, joy shining in his eyes.

His grip was so strong it nearly crushed her shoulders, but Feng Xiaoli reasoned that, by his age, he must be the man’s father.

Since she was not who they believed, it was best to make things clear. That was why she had come.

Meeting the older man’s gaze, her eyes proud and cold, she said, “I’ll only say this once—I am not your daughter. This man brought me here from the street. I’ve told him many times that I am not the one he’s looking for, but he insists on believing otherwise. I came only to clarify matters with you. Now that I have, I should be going.”

She added to herself, “I need to get back quickly—Wanqing will be worried sick if she can’t find me!” She thought no one would hear, but several of the men present had keen martial abilities and caught every word.

Ah, so my story begins!