Chapter 5: You are a good person, it’s just that I am not worthy of you.

She had a large bruise on her leg from bumping into the barre during practice. After two hours of training, her leg hurt even more, forcing her to stop. As the Lunar New Year approached, everyone felt a bit lazy. After the afternoon practice ended, the director announced he was treating everyone to dinner, and they all happily went along. When they arrived, they discovered that the hosts were several businessmen who sponsored the ballet troupe. Fortunately, there were many people, making it very lively, with the chatter drowning out even the singing on stage.

Su Su sat in the corner, clearly hearing every word. Having been away from her hometown for a long time, the Suzhou dialect was like scattered wildflowers in her memory—here one, there another, swaying loosely in the wind. The sound of the pipa was enchanting, as if plucking at her heartstrings. The meal passed in a daze until the shark fin soup was served, when someone beside her softly asked, “Is Miss Ren from the south?” Startled, she saw it was Mr. Zhang, whom Mu Lan had mentioned. She only softly replied, “Yes.” Mr. Zhang continued, “What a coincidence, so am I,” and began vividly recounting stories of their hometown. He was naturally eloquent, and his descriptions of local customs were captivating, drawing the attention of those around them. Su Su had moved to Wuchi with her uncle at a young age, leaving only vague memories of her childhood, so she listened attentively.

After dinner, everyone played cards in the private room. Su Su, unfamiliar with the game, excused herself to leave. Mr. Zhang, sensing this, followed her out and offered, “I have a car; let me drive you home.” Su Su shook her head and said, “Thank you, but I’ll take a rickshaw—it’s very close.” Mr. Zhang didn’t insist, personally hailed a rickshaw for her, and even paid the fare in advance. Feeling uncomfortable about this, Su Su thanked him.

The next day, Mr. Zhang invited her again, but she declined, claiming a headache. Alone at home with nothing to do and the weather cold, she picked up an orange and warmed it by the stove, releasing a faint, sour fragrance. Not feeling like eating, she looked around idly. With the New Year approaching, moisture in the house caused black spots on the walls, so she mixed some flour paste and took white paper to cover them. After sticking a few sheets, she heard someone outside ask, “Is Miss Ren at home?” Looking out the window, she saw it was Mr. Zhang, who had unexpectedly found her home. Though uneasy, she opened the door and invited him in, apologizing, “I’m sorry, I’ve made a mess here.” Seeing the situation, he immediately rolled up his sleeves, saying, “How can I let a young lady do such work?” Without further ado, he brought a stool and started pasting the walls.

Unable to refuse, she handed him sheets while he talked. She learned he was Zhang Mingshu, whose family ran an industrial business, and he had recently returned after studying abroad. Judging by his appearance, he seemed unused to manual labor, making her feel somewhat apologetic. By the time they finished wallpapering, it was almost dark. Jumping off the stool and clapping his hands, he looked around the room with satisfaction, “Now it’s much brighter.”

Su Su said, “You’ve worked hard half the day; let me treat you to dinner.” Hearing this, Zhang Mingshu was pleasantly surprised and didn’t stand on ceremony, replying, “Alright, but I’ll choose the place.”

He took her to eat Dan Dan noodles in a small street stall. His suit stood out in the modest shop, but he didn’t mind, exclaiming how spicy it was and thoroughly enjoying it. After finishing, he accompanied her back. The winter night market was bleak, with only a few stalls selling wontons and tangyuan at the street corner. A peddler selling pinwheels was heading home, with only three left on his rack, spinning and whistling in the wind—a pleasant sound. Noticing her glancing at the pinwheels, he quickly said, “Wait a moment,” took out some change, and bought all three, handing them to her. She finally gave a faint smile, asking, “What should I do with all these?” He replied, “I’ve thought it through—one for the fence so you can hear it from afar, one for the windowsill so you can hear it indoors, and one for you to play with.”

Such toys for children delighted her since no one had ever bought them for her before. Walking back, the pinwheels whistled in the wind as he chattered incessantly—stories from his study abroad days, funny incidents at the factory, tales of his family. By the time they reached her courtyard gate, he still looked eager, saying, “Oh, we’re already here.” Then added, “Tomorrow you don’t have training—I’ll come to take you to eat authentic taro balls at North City Corner.” Despite his seemingly carefree nature, he had noticed her fondness for taro balls at the dinner table yesterday.

True to his word, he came again the next day. The weather was overcast, and he wore a checkered suit over his sweater. Upon entering, he said, “It’s colder today than yesterday. Don’t just wear a jacket.” She had worn a plain jacket yesterday, so she fetched her coat to put on. They walked together, and although the road was far, his lively conversation made the journey enjoyable. By the time they reached North City Corner, nearly three hours had passed, crossing half the city to eat sweet taro balls. Su Su thought about it and couldn’t help but smile. Catching her smile, he paused, then asked after a while, “Why are you smiling?”

Su Su replied, “I’m laughing at how far we’ve walked just to eat this.” Feeling guilty, he said, “It’s my fault. You might have sore feet later. But if we had taken a car, we’d have arrived quickly, and I wouldn’t have had the chance to talk to you.” She hadn’t expected him to be so candid, slowly lowering her head.

Seeing her demeanor, he fell silent for a while before saying, “Miss Ren, I know I’m being abrupt, but I can’t hide my feelings. After our last meeting, I realized that the wife I’ve dreamed of is you, Miss Ren.”

Su Su’s mind was in turmoil. After a while, she said, “You’re a good person, but I’m not worthy of you.”

Zhang Mingshu had anticipated her response and replied, “No, I have no prejudices about social status, and my family is very open-minded. If it’s too early to discuss this now, just give me some time, and I’ll prove to you how sincere I am.”

Su Su felt a sharp pang in her heart, the suffocating lump returning to her throat. She only whispered, “I’m not worthy of Mr. Zhang. Please don’t look for me anymore.” Bewildered, he asked, “Was I too rash?” and then, “Do you despise me mentioning my family?”

No matter what he said, Su Su only shook her head. He refused to believe it was irreparable and wasn’t discouraged, suggesting, “Then, can we at least be ordinary friends?” His eyes were almost pleading. Su Su felt immense pity but neither nodded nor shook her head.

Returning by rickshaw in the afternoon, she truly couldn’t walk anymore. Getting off at the alley entrance, she bid him farewell, saying, “Please don’t look for me anymore.” Without answering, he handed her the paper bag containing warm sugar-roasted chestnuts. Holding the bag, she walked home, seeing the pinwheel on the fence whistling like a crying child. Taking out her keys, she found the door slightly ajar, fearing she had forgotten to lock it. Pushing the door open, the chestnuts in her arms emitted a faint warmth that quickly dissipated into the cold air. Standing there with the bag, she murmured like in a dream, “Why are you here?”

He asked, “Where did you go?”

Not noticing any cars parked in the alley, she replied, “Out with a friend.”

He pressed further, “What friend?”

The chestnuts pressed against her chest, making her short of breath. Lowering her head, she said, “You don’t need to know.” Her words provoked a cold laugh from him, “Indeed, I don’t need to—”

Silent, she stood there while he remained motionless. Darkness descended, enveloping them in twilight. The light gradually dimmed, hiding his face in shadow. Finally, she asked, “What brings you here?” This was no place for him, a man of wealth and splendor accustomed to admiration and luxury.

He didn’t speak, which somehow emboldened her to say, “Leave.” His eyes seemed to blaze with fire, yet she felt calm, watching him. He turned his face away, his voice sounding weak, “You said you wanted to marry me, and I agreed.”

Shocked and terrified, she stepped back. His expression was murderous, filled with utmost disgust, as if she were a monstrous flood or the most detested demon. Clenching his mouth shut, he stared at her.

Intense fear gripped her, and instinctively, she blurted out, “I don’t want to marry you.”

In the darkness, his hawk-like eyes sharpened, veins bulging on his forehead, his breathing rapid and labored. Raising his hand, he slapped her, the sound ringing in her ears, causing her vision to darken momentarily. She nearly stumbled forward, but he tightened his grip on her wrist, the pain excruciating as if her bones would shatter. His voice squeezed through clenched teeth, “Haven’t you had enough?”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but he pushed her against the wall and kissed her fiercely, not with affection but as if intending to kill her. Sobbing and struggling, she pounded his back with her fists, but he held her wrists tightly, rendering her powerless. She bit his lip, and he finally released her in pain. Trembling, she cowered in the corner, sobbing. He looked at her as if she were a venomous snake, radiating icy hatred like the sharp north wind, chilling to the bone.

Gritting his teeth, he said, “You toy with me—you merely toy with me.” Yet her cursed tears pained him! Such a woman, how could there be such a woman, and he had fallen under her spell, letting her manipulate him effortlessly.

She said she wanted to marry him, and he agreed, only for her to casually say she didn’t want to marry him. She was simply pleased, pleased to see him restless and delivering himself to her manipulation.

Finally, he turned and left.

Lei Shaogong paced by the car, quickly opening the door upon seeing him emerge. Observing his grim expression, he dared not ask questions and decided to head back to Duan Mountain. Upon entering, Murong Qingyi grabbed the crystal ashtray and hurled it to the ground, smashing it to pieces, but it didn’t quell his anger. Grabbing a riding crop, he lashed at the wall repeatedly, each strike tearing the plaster and revealing the bricks underneath. Dust flew everywhere, falling like snow. Each lash was heavier and faster than the last, the sound of the whip slicing through the air like thunder. Though Murong Qingyi’s temper was known to be bad, Lei Shaogong had never seen him this angry. Worried, he stepped forward and pleaded, “Third Young Master, if you continue like this, I’ll have to call Madam.”

His hand paused, finally dropping. The whip fell onto the carpet; sweat covered his forehead, but his face remained expressionless. Lei Shaogong worriedly said, “Go take a bath and sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” Pressing his sweaty forehead, he rasped, “I must be possessed.”

Lei Shaogong reassured him, “It’s alright. Sleep it off, and you’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

He nodded slowly and went upstairs to bathe. Emerging, the room was dimly lit by a small lamp, casting half the room in shadows. He pulled back the covers, the faint scent lingering—not floral, not incense, but vaguely familiar. Burying his head in the pillow, the scent grew fainter and more distant. Exhausted, he fell asleep quickly. His sleep wasn’t deep; waking in the middle of the night, the scent lingered faintly, permeating everything, seeping into his bones. The heating was warm, and in his drowsy state, he suddenly called out, “Su Su.” All around was silent, save for his own breathing in the dark. Reaching out, she curled up at the other end of the bed, always sleeping like a child, tucked into the farthest corner. But his hand met empty space, leaving half his heart hollow.

He remembered Lei Shaogong saying, “You’ll be fine tomorrow.” A chilling realization swept over him—tomorrow wouldn’t be better; it would never be better again.

This day was the fourteenth of the twelfth lunar month, the start of the City God Temple Fair. Zhang Mingshu intended to invite Su Su to the fair, but many guests arrived at his house, preventing him from leaving. Several cousins insisted on playing cards, so he reluctantly joined them. Distracted, he heard his eldest cousin ask, “I heard you’re sponsoring a ballet troupe. Which one?”

He replied, “Yun’s.”

His eldest cousin commented, “Yun’s troupe has an exceptionally beautiful dancer. Have you met her?” Hearing this, his ears burned inexplicably, and he muttered, “What beauty? Those ballet dancers are all beautiful.” His cousin remarked, “She played Zhu Yingtai in ‘Butterfly Lovers’ a few months ago. Wow, she’s stunning, surpassing many movie stars.”

Another cousin laughed, “Listen to you, practically drooling. If you admire her so much, why don’t you pursue her?”

The eldest cousin shook his head and said, “Not many outsiders know about this. Do you know whose woman she is? Even if you gave me ten times the courage, I wouldn’t dare to covet her.”

Zhang Mingshu asked, “Is this young lady surnamed Fang?” As he spoke, he put down his tiles and asked, “Do any of you want the five of bamboo?” The eldest cousin quickly responded, “Put it down, I have a flush.” They pushed over their tiles to calculate scores and money, the sound of mahjong tiles clattering noisily. The fourth cousin laughed, “Mingshu’s luck is terrible today, losing at the gambling table. Perhaps he’s winning in love. Judging by your tone, you seem quite familiar with Miss Fang?”

Before Zhang Mingshu could respond, the eldest cousin interjected, “I wasn’t talking about Miss Fang; I was referring to a Miss Ren.”

Upon hearing this, Zhang Mingshu felt as if struck by lightning. His hands slowed for a moment as he paused. The fourth cousin continued jokingly, “If even someone as daring as you claims he doesn’t dare, I’m curious about this Miss Ren’s background.”

The eldest cousin explained, “I heard this from our family’s elder—apparently, she’s Third Master’s exclusive companion. Who would dare snatch food from a tiger’s mouth?”

The fourth cousin asked, “Which Third Master? Surely not Mister Murong’s Third Master?”

The eldest cousin replied, “Who else? That Miss Ren is indeed beautiful, but she rarely smiles. If she did, she might truly bring kingdoms to their knees.”

They were engrossed in their lively conversation, oblivious to Zhang Mingshu’s expression. It wasn’t until he stood up that the eldest cousin noticed, startled, and asked, “What’s wrong with you? You’re drenched in sweat.” Zhang Mingshu said, “I have a terrible headache.” Seeing his ashen face, they all urged, “You must have caught a cold; you look awful. Go upstairs and rest.” With great effort, Zhang Mingshu said, “You all continue playing; I’ll lie down for a bit,” then walked upstairs.

The room was quiet, with faint sounds of guests chatting, children playing, and the crisp clatter of mahjong tiles drifting up from below. His heart felt as if a sharp knife was twisting inside, tearing him apart. For the first time, he experienced an uncontrollable anguish. Like a caged beast, he paced around the room, finally unable to bear it any longer. He grabbed his coat and slipped out through the back door.

Not wanting his family to know, he walked to the street corner and hailed a rickshaw. Along the way, his thoughts churned. Every time he traveled this road before, it always seemed like an endless journey, eager to see her sooner. But today, he suddenly felt afraid—afraid the road was too short, afraid his cousin’s words were true. He had never been a coward, yet inexplicably, he felt weak now, wanting only to deceive himself.

The familiar alley was already in sight. He handed the rickshaw driver a dollar bill, seeing the pinwheel still stuck on the fence outside her house. His heart ached as if being cut by a knife. Then he saw her emerge from the yard—not alone. Ahead of her was a stranger in a suit, though his gait suggested military bearing. He opened the car door for her. It was a brand-new Lincoln. She kept her head bowed, her expression unseen. His chest felt as if struck heavily, his insides shattered as he watched the car drive away.

Su Su quietly gazed out the car window. The vehicle passed through the bustling downtown and turned onto a quiet asphalt road. She began to feel something amiss and asked, “Where are we going?”

The attendant who picked her up replied, “Miss Ren, you’ll know when we get there.”

The scenery along the road was exceptionally serene. On either side stood tall maple and sycamore trees interspersed with expansive acacia trees. Though past the season of falling leaves, the branches’ intricate patterns remained. One could imagine how breathtaking the view must be during summer and autumn. A jade-like river wound alongside the road, its waters splashing and swirling over rocks. The car traveled for a long while, turning a bend before reaching a guard post. After a brief inspection, they continued forward. Now, vast pine forests lined the road, the wind rustling through them like waves. Though slightly uneasy, Su Su marveled at finding such an elegant and tranquil place near Wuchi’s outskirts.

Finally, the car stopped. She stepped out to see an imposing mansion nestled among the trees. Though Western-style, the old house featured ornate wrought-iron window grilles. The attendant led her through a side entrance, turning left into a vast, cathedral-like hall. Enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their bronze rings adorned with delicate crystal tassels swaying gently in the breeze. Countless oil paintings adorned the walls, and floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains draped over a dozen large windows facing south. The marble floor gleamed, reflecting light. This deep, silent hall felt like a museum, evoking awe and silence.

The attendant guided her through the hall and down a corridor to a glass-roofed sunroom. It was afternoon, and the winter sunlight bathed the room warmly. Among lush greenery, a person lounged in a wicker chair, setting aside an English magazine. Su Su felt as if in a dream, instinctively murmuring, “Madam.”

Madam Murong showed little emotion, her gaze briefly sweeping over Su Su before saying, “Miss Ren, please sit down.”

A maid brought tea, and Su Su, unsure of what was happening, listened as Madam Murong said, “We’ve met before—Miss Ren, your ballet is exquisite.” Su Su softly replied, “Madam flatters me.” Madam Murong continued, “You’re a clever and graceful young woman, and I like you very much. I’m sure you understand why I’ve summoned you here today.”

Doubts clouded Su Su’s mind. She had been escorted by one of Murong Qingyi’s attendants and didn’t realize she was meeting Madam Murong. Her tone was neutral, making it hard to guess the purpose. Su Su could only murmur, “Madam, please speak plainly.”

Madam Murong sighed lightly and said, “Lao San has always been stubborn since he was a child. Once he sets his mind on something, even I, his mother, can’t dissuade him. But this time, I absolutely cannot allow him to act recklessly.” Su Su listened silently as Madam Murong continued, “Miss Ren, I don’t despise you, nor do I hold prejudices about social status. However, every move our family’s daughter-in-law makes is scrutinized by the public. Frankly, I fear you may not be able to shoulder such responsibility.”

Shocked, Su Su raised her head, bewildered. She never expected Madam Murong to say such things. At that moment, a maid whispered something in Madam Murong’s ear. Unfazed, Madam Murong nodded. Su Su heard hurried footsteps approaching down the corridor. Recognizing them, she instinctively turned her head—it was Murong Qingyi. Upon entering, he called out, “Mother,” his voice tinged with urgency and anger. Su Su looked up to see his pale face, staring directly at Madam Murong. Calmly, Madam Murong chuckled softly, asking, “What’s the matter? Why are you rushing home so urgently?”

Murong Qingyi’s voice was low and rumbling like thunder before a storm, “Mother, if you do anything to hurt me, you will regret it.” Madam Murong’s expression changed slightly, “Is this how you speak to your mother? You’ve truly lost your mind. When you told me yesterday you wanted to marry her, I knew you were bewitched.”

Coldly, Murong Qingyi retorted, “I know your methods—you’ve already lost one son. If you’re not afraid of losing another, then repeat your mistakes.”

Madam Murong’s face shifted dramatically, her body trembling slightly. Normally composed, she was now visibly shaken by Murong Qingyi’s words, which struck at her deepest pain. Yet within moments, she regained composure and smiled serenely, “What nonsense you speak, my child. I’m doing this for your own good.”

Murong Qingyi shot back, “You thought you were doing it for Second Brother’s good too, but look what happened?”

After a long silence, Madam Murong finally said, “Fine, I won’t interfere in your affairs anymore. Do as you please—I’ll pretend I never had such an unworthy son.” Her voice quivered with suppressed sobs. Hearing her sorrowful tone, Su Su felt deeply moved but, being awkward with words, didn’t know how to comfort her. Murong Qingyi, however, quickly interjected, “Thank you, Mother, for your understanding.” He grasped Su Su’s arm and said, “We won’t disturb your peace any longer.”

Madam Murong was utterly heartbroken, feeling utterly defeated. She realized the situation was beyond repair, having hoped to intervene decisively but never expecting her son to threaten with death. Feeling shattered and powerless, she waved her hand dismissively, letting them leave as they pleased.

Murong Qingyi held Su Su’s arm tightly until they were in the car before releasing her. Su Su’s mind was a chaotic mess, unable to make sense of anything. Still, his voice remained cold, “How could you just follow someone without question?”

Unsure why he was so angry, she softly replied, “It was one of your attendants.”

He restrained his fury, “There are so many people around me, and you’re this naive? Do you even realize when you’re putting your life at risk?”

She bit her lower lip lightly, as if wanting to escape from him. Such expressions often infuriated him, but today, for some reason, he suppressed his irritation and ignored her, turning to gaze out the window. Silence enveloped the car. As they neared the city, she could no longer endure, letting out a soft moan. He immediately turned to her, sensing something was wrong—her forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat. His face paled as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, “I feel a bit unwell.” He grabbed her hand, his eyes flickering like two flames, “What did they give you to eat?” Lei Shaogong anxiously called out, “Third Young Master.” Ignoring him, he gripped her tightly, as if about to crush her, “Tell me, did you eat anything just now?” Pain blurred her vision, and all she could see was his face, contorted almost beyond recognition. Why was he asking this? Weakly, she said, “I haven’t eaten anything—I only drank some milk tea.”

His appearance was terrifying, like a trapped wild beast filled with despair and rage. He let out a low growl, and Lei Shaogong immediately instructed the driver, “Turn around, head to Jiangshan Hospital.”

The car reversed direction toward Jiangshan. She was in excruciating pain, not understanding why he reacted this way. He clung to her fiercely, his arms like iron bands, as if trying to embed her into his own body. She heard him grinding his teeth, his demeanor menacing. Lei Shaogong’s face was grim as he hesitantly said, “Third Young Master, it won’t happen.” She didn’t comprehend their meaning, but the look in Murong Qingyi’s eyes was fiery. Through gritted teeth, he said, “I know you lot schemed against Second Brother, and now you’re pulling the same tricks on me.”

Lei Shaogong’s expression worsened, calling again, “Third Young Master.” Waves of cold sweat broke out on her, a faint buzzing ringing in her ears. She didn’t understand his words, but his terrifying demeanor filled her with fear. The car arrived at Jiangshan Hospital, stopping directly in front of the emergency building. By now, she was in such agony she was nearly unconscious. He scooped her up and carried her inside. Lei Shaogong hurried ahead to find a doctor.

Amidst the clamor of voices, she heard only his heavy breathing, close yet distant. His sweat dripped steadily, despite the cold weather, his forehead soaked with perspiration. Even as doctors approached, he refused to release her. Lei Shaogong urgently said, “Third Young Master, let go of Miss Ren so they can examine her.” Only then did he place her on the hospital bed. Several doctors immediately surrounded her to conduct examinations. She weakly clutched the hem of his jacket, as if it were her last remaining support.

To everyone’s shock, he drew his gun and slammed it onto the medicine tray, causing everyone to freeze in terror. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice seething through clenched teeth, “Listen carefully. If anything happens to her today, I’ll join her! You decide what to do!”

Gradually, she understood—the immense pain and unprecedented fear made her dizzy. Struggling to open her eyes, she saw Lei Shaogong rush to restrain Murong Qingyi’s arm, though he dared not seize the gun. The doctors grew tense as well. Still clutching his jacket, tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

He had actually said... he would accompany her in death... Tears poured down her face as physical pain transformed into emotional anguish. Death loomed grotesquely close, and all she had left was the fabric of his jacket—only him—and everything was happening so abruptly, too fast to process. She couldn’t bear to look at his face, his expression burning her. She had never known until today, and now it was too late. He was like this, unwilling to part with her even in death. Too late—her heartbeat throbbed painfully, her vision and consciousness blurring...

It was already deep into the night when she woke up. Her right hand felt warm, being held in someone’s palm. With some effort, she turned her face to see him—his appearance so haggard, as if he had become a different person. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her voice choked, “I’m fine.” His voice was hoarse too, “I scared you... The doctor said it’s just acute enteritis—I was so afraid... I actually thought...”

She continued to silently shed tears. The IV fluid dripped slowly, each drop feeling like a thousand-pound hammer striking her heart. His embrace was so warm, and he gently kissed her, as if touching the most delicate petal with utmost care. Through her tear-blurred vision, she closed her eyes, helplessly sinking into his warmth.

Madam Murong summoned Lei Shaogong, who recounted the entire situation truthfully. After a long while, Madam Murong sighed deeply, saying, “What meaning is there left for me as a mother?”

Lei Shaogong remained silent, while Jin Rui added, “From the looks of it, Lao San is genuinely serious this time. It seems we might have to let him have his way.”

Madam Murong waved her hand, signaling Lei Shaogong to leave. After a moment of absentmindedness, she said to Jin Rui, “We can only let him be. Lao San is so suspicious—it truly saddens me.”

Jin Rui softly consoled her, “He is truly obsessed to think this way.” Knowing that Madam Murong disliked discussing past events, she vaguely added, “Mother would not make the same mistake again.”

True enough, Madam Murong sighed heavily, saying, “If he is so determined to marry, I fear no one can stop him. We may give in, but your father—he will never easily approve.”

After Su Su was discharged from the hospital, she rested for several more days. It was already the end of the twelfth lunar month. On this day, Murong Qingyi sent someone to pick her up to dine at Yixin Ji, a restaurant known for its Suzhou cuisine. The upstairs area of Yixin Ji was heated. As Su Su entered, the waiter took her coat, revealing her figure in a honey-colored cheongsam with subtle green floral patterns. Upon entering, she realized there was another guest besides him. Murong Qingyi introduced, “Call him Uncle He.” She softly followed his instruction, addressing the man respectfully. He politely responded, “No need,” and after appraising her for a moment, smiled at Murong Qingyi, “Third Young Master has excellent taste.”

Su Su blushed slightly and sat beside Murong Qingyi. He said, “Mr. He, I’d rather strike the golden bell once than tap the wooden fish three thousand times. I hope Mr. He can help me come up with an idea.”

This man was none other than He Xu’an, known as the “First Capable Official.” Smiling after hearing this, he said, “I am honored by Third Young Master’s trust—but this requires patient work; haste won’t do. In front of the master, allow me to devise a plan gradually. Perhaps over a year or two, there might be some progress.”

Murong Qingyi replied, “Mr. He knows my temperament—I don’t wish to wait even a year or half a year. This matter could bring complications. Mr. He, please find a way on my behalf.”

He Xu’an pondered and said, “There is one method that might work, but...”

Murong Qingyi quickly urged, “Please speak plainly, sir.”

He Xu’an explained, “It’s extremely risky, with at most a thirty percent chance of success. Moreover, the outcome is uncertain—it might backfire.”

Murong Qingyi asserted, “Only by risking death can we find life. How will we know if it won’t succeed without trying?”

He Xu’an revealed a faint smile, saying, “Third Young Master’s decisiveness and boldness reflect the style of a general’s family.”

Murong Qingyi laughed, saying, “Come on, tell me what the plan is.”

He Xu’an cautioned, “You must promise that you will not ask why regarding the arrangements I make. Also, regardless of success or failure, before or after, you must not reveal anything to anyone.” Desperate for success, Murong Qingyi assured, “I’ll follow all of your instructions.”

After some thought, He Xu’an finally said, “Tomorrow is the twenty-seventh of the twelfth lunar month. The master will go to Qinghu.”

The Qinghu official residence was located beside the scenic river, nestled against the mountains and facing the water, overlooking the tranquil emerald waves of Qinghu Lake. Murong Feng had a habit of taking walks after meals, strolling along the stone path until he reached the foot of the mountain. Just then, a breeze swept through, carrying the faint fragrance of plum blossoms from the grove below the slope. The attendants followed at a distance as he walked slowly with his hands clasped behind his back. Beneath a plum tree, he saw a pale green figure—a woman wearing an old-fashioned long cheongsam, gracefully resembling a branch of green plum blossoms. The wind lifted her bangs, revealing clear autumn-water-like eyes, and small jade butterfly earrings that brushed lightly against her collar.

He halted, as if caught in a dream, murmuring, “It’s you—”

Murong Qingyi stepped forward from behind and said, “Father, this is Su Su.”

He glanced at his son, seeing a mix of confusion and a peculiar expression in his eyes—an intricate blend that he couldn’t decipher. It seemed like anger but wasn’t, and for a fleeting moment, it appeared to be pain. Remembering He Xu’an’s words, Murong Qingyi simply said, “I beg you, Father, to give us your blessing.”

Murong Feng looked at him expressionlessly, remaining silent. Murong Qingyi sensed something was amiss but dared not speak. After what felt like an eternity, Murong Feng sighed deeply and asked, “Marriage is a significant matter, not to be taken lightly. Have you really thought it through?”

Overjoyed, Murong Qingyi still managed to respond respectfully, “Yes.”

Murong Feng nodded slowly. To his surprise, Murong Qingyi hadn’t anticipated such an easy approval. Overwhelmed with joy, he took Su Su’s hand, beaming, “Thank you, Father.”

A wave of indescribable happiness washed over him, as if all the plum blossoms in the garden were releasing their fragrance simultaneously. It felt as though the sky and earth had suddenly opened wide, lifting him high into the heavens. His heart brimmed with joy, overflowing into the world around him.