FHJ - 11

Chapter 11: Falling Ill

When Gu Juhán returned to the residence, it was already near the end of the xu hour.

He had ridden back on horseback instead of taking a carriage, so he spotted Wanzhu, Shen Xiling’s maid, standing by the entrance of the Guogong residence with red-rimmed eyes even before he reached the gates. Upon seeing him return, she rushed over, wiping her tears as she said, “General, you’re finally back! Please go see Lady Shen... something’s wrong!”

Gu Juhán was startled and immediately dismounted without asking further questions, rushing straight to her chambers.

Before entering, he saw all her attendants gathered outside the door. Lianzi was leading a few younger maids in trying to persuade someone. Seeing him arrive, their faces lit up with relief.

Gu Juhán approached hurriedly, still catching his breath. He asked Lianzi, “What happened?”

Lianzi looked deeply troubled and shook her head helplessly. “I’m not sure. Ever since she returned from the Deputy Chief Censor’s residence, she’s locked herself away and won’t see anyone. Please, General, go and try to comfort her.”

“Has she eaten dinner?” Gu Juhán asked.

“Not yet,” Lianzi replied.

“Have someone prepare some porridge for her,” he instructed. “Keep it warm on the stove for now, and bring it in when I call for it.”

Lianzi felt as though she’d been granted a reprieve and quickly responded, “Yes.”

By the time she looked up, the general had already entered the room.

As Gu Juhán stepped inside, the first thing he noticed was the smell of alcohol.

The night was dim, and she hadn’t lit any bright lamps, leaving the room in a hazy gloom. Walking past the screen into the inner chamber, he found her curled up in a corner, sitting on the floor. She appeared small and fragile, her eyes closed—whether asleep or awake, he couldn’t tell. Around her were scattered wine jugs and cups, evidence of her restless struggle.

Gu Juhán sighed deeply.

One by one, he lit the lamps in the room, tidied up the scattered bottles and cups, and then sat down beside her without speaking immediately.

In five years of marriage, he rarely entered her chambers, and when he did, it was usually during the day or when she was bedridden due to illness. She had always been meticulous about cleanliness; no matter when he entered, her room was always spotless and orderly. Even today, despite her distress, she hadn’t thrown anything around—the vases and jars remained intact.

He recalled the early days after their marriage, five years ago.

At that time, though she appeared polite and respectful on the surface, she was inwardly guarded. She had never been one to open her heart easily. It wasn’t until a certain incident occurred that she gradually let her guard down and began sharing her true feelings with him.

The first time she cried in front of him was because of Qi Jingchen—three months after she married into the Guogong family.

Before that, the Shen Xiling he knew had always been elegant and beautiful but somewhat aloof. Her enchanting eyes would quietly observe others without speaking, and the red mole between her brows, which might have seemed flirtatious on someone else, gave her an air of distant grace. But that time, drunk and weeping bitterly, she had tearfully asked him if she would never see Qi Jingchen again in this lifetime.

He couldn’t remember how he had responded then, but he vividly remembered her appearance. Though she looked utterly disheveled from crying, she also appeared heartbreakingly pitiable. Even the cruelest person in the world would have softened at the sight of her, holding her tenderly like a precious treasure and granting her every wish.

But he hadn’t expected that man—Qi Jingchen—to be so heartless as to make her cry like this a second time.

Though neither Wanzhu nor Lianzi had told him what happened today, he had already guessed the gist of it. After all, aside from that man, he couldn’t think of anything else that could reduce her to such sorrow—Qi Jingchen must have hurt her again.

Gu Juhán turned to look at her. She still had her eyes closed, her beautiful black hair loose, making her appear even more delicate. He spoke softly, “I wanted to let you be, but the floor is cold. You’ll catch a chill if you stay like this. Let me carry you to the bed, alright?”

She didn’t respond, seemingly asleep. But when he lifted her, he saw a tear slide down her cheek, confirming that she was still awake.

Gently, Gu Juhán carried her to the bed. She opened her eyes, gazing at him with a dazed expression. He smoothed her slightly disheveled hair, propped two soft cushions behind her back for comfort, and then asked, “So… did you see him?”

Her expression remained blank, as if she didn’t understand his question. He repeated, “Did you see him?”

This time, she understood. Her face showed no change, but a single tear abruptly slid down her cheek. She made no move to wipe it away, only shaking her head as she whispered, “No, I didn’t see him.”

Gu Juhán gently wiped away her tear and asked, “Why didn’t you see him?”

Once again, she seemed unable to comprehend his words, remaining silent. But Gu Juhán knew she understood, for her eyes suddenly filled with a thick, profound sadness.

He waited a long while, allowing her to slowly calm down, before finally hearing her say, “Because he didn’t want to see me.”

She smiled faintly, as if finally accepting the truth, and repeated softly, “Because… even though I begged him, he still didn’t want to see me.”

Gu Juhán felt as though she might shatter at any moment.

He wanted to comfort her, just as he had done five years ago when she first cried in front of him. Back then, he had consoled her, telling her not to lose hope—that life was long, and perhaps there would still be a chance to meet him someday. But now, as he tried to comfort her, he found himself at a loss for words.

“Why?” Shen Xiling’s eyes seemed to hold a misty rain from Jiangzuo. “Why doesn’t he want to see me? I don’t ask for anything, I don’t want anything—I just wanted to see him one more time.”

They sat so close that he could smell the alcohol on her, close enough that with just a slight movement, he could pull her into his arms. But after some thought, he refrained, responding instead with restraint and caution: “Perhaps...”

Perhaps what? Gu Juhán couldn’t bring himself to continue.

Shen Xiling let out a soft laugh.

Her laughter was breathtakingly beautiful, but when accompanied by tears, it became heart-wrenchingly stunning—and utterly devastating.

She raised her hand and gestured the number three.

Gu Juhán, enduring the ache in his heart, forced a smile and asked, “What does this mean?”

“Three times,” Shen Xiling tilted her head, smiling through her tears. “There were three times when I almost saw him.”

Gu Juhán was surprised. “Three times?”

She nodded earnestly, counting them off on her fingers. “The first time was at Yi Pavilion, the second time was on the road, and the third time was today.”

Gu Juhán was genuinely astonished.

Shen Xiling laughed again, looking at him as she spoke. “You seem so surprised—did you think I didn’t know about the incident at Yi Pavilion? At first, I truly didn’t, but it’s my establishment after all. Later, the shopkeeper described the person sitting next to us that day, and then I remembered the egg custard you brought me. That’s how I knew it was him.”

Gu Juhán was speechless.

She continued to laugh. “And then, the other day when I went out with Jingqi and the others, I deliberately had the carriage pass by the residence of the Liang envoy on our way back. By chance, we encountered him—he was inside his carriage, and though I couldn’t see him, I just knew it was his carriage. Do you believe me? I just knew.”

Gu Juhán didn’t know what to say, so he simply agreed. “Yes, I believe you.”

Her laughter caused more tears to spill from her eyes. “Three times, three times already! I don’t know what else I could have done, but I still couldn’t see him.”

“I used to think it was bad luck, but Wenruo, it’s not like that. The reason I can’t see him is simply because… he doesn’t want to see me.”

Finally, she broke down completely. “He doesn’t want to see me at all.”

Gu Juhán tried to hold back, but this time, he couldn’t resist. He pulled her into his arms.

She cried softly against his chest, even in her sorrow restraining herself from sobbing loudly. Just as she wouldn’t throw things in anger despite her pain, she remained careful and composed—a heartbreaking mix of self-control and consideration.

Gu Juhán held her, feeling like both a friend and an older brother. Her slender body trembled slightly in his embrace, warmed by the alcohol she’d consumed. He gently patted her back and murmured, “Perhaps he has his reasons…”

Shen Xiling, nestled in his arms, felt like a drifting water lily without roots. Though his voice was near her ear, it seemed distant, as if floating far away.

She shook her head forcefully against his chest. “No, you don’t understand. That man… he’s always been so ruthless.”

Gu Juhán stroked her hair, thinking to himself, How could I not know Qi Jingchen’s nature?

For years, they had been rivals—one in the north, one in the south. Precisely because they were enemies, they understood each other deeply, whether on the battlefield or in the imperial court. The world called Qi Jingchen a nobleman’s son, a young prodigy, but only because they didn’t truly know him. Gu Juhán did. Qi Jingchen wasn’t just himself; he was the leader of the Jiangzuo aristocracy, a high-ranking minister of Liang, and a master strategist who wielded power with precision. People once said of Qi Ying, “His appearance is that of a gentleman, but his heart is that of an asura.” How could such a wartime statesman, wielding both military and political authority, not be ruthless?

But at that moment, Gu Juhán didn’t know how to explain this to her. Instead, he whispered soothingly, “I know, I know… he’s made you so sad…”

She lay weakly in his arms, her frailty breaking his heart. He recalled how Qi Jingchen had remarked that she had grown much thinner during their encounter at Yi Pavilion. The memory left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Just then, he heard her faint voice calling him. He quickly responded, listening as she murmured, “I never imagined he wouldn’t want to see me… I thought that even if he only regarded me as an old acquaintance, he would at least greet me after all these years…”

“The way he is now… perhaps he’s afraid I’ll cling to him or cause trouble… Wenruo, I know he won’t see me again. But the next time you see him, could you tell him for me? Tell him I don’t ask for anything—I just wanted to see him one more time…”

Her voice grew softer and softer, trailing off into broken whispers until it faded entirely. When Gu Juhán called her name again, she no longer responded. Her breathing grew shallow, her skin burning hot to the touch. By the time he realized something was wrong, she had already fainted in his arms.

She was ill.

It was a sudden and severe illness.

The onset of the sickness was abrupt yet somehow inevitable. The imperial physicians sent from the palace diagnosed her condition as stemming from poor appetite and deep emotional distress, which had developed into illness over time. She had been running a high fever for several days, alternating between sleep and delirium.

Because of her illness, Gu Juhán skipped two consecutive days of court sessions, staying by her side to care for her. The matter even reached the Emperor and Empress, who sent envoys to inquire after her health. Lianzi and Wanzhu attended to her tirelessly, neither changing their clothes nor resting. Lianzi had visibly lost weight, while Wanzhu’s eyes were swollen from crying, resembling walnuts.

But Shen Xiling was unaware of any of this. She didn’t even realize she was sick. To her, it felt as though she were dreaming.

In her dream, she returned to ten years ago.