Chapter 7. Without the courage to step into her world

He suffered such torment, only managing to embarrass her, constantly finding fault, while she merely bowed her head submissively. In front of him, she was only afraid—afraid of him, and thus obedient to him. What he wanted wasn’t fear, yet all she felt was fear of him. Occasionally, he caught her smiling, but as soon as he approached, the smile vanished without a trace. When he lost his temper, she became even more frightened. He truly understood what it meant to be heartbroken; after the heartbreak came a deadly void. He tried to fill this void with other people and distractions, but his heart was missing a piece—a piece that only she could fill.

The summer in Fenggang, due to its unique position against the mountains and facing the sea, enjoyed cool ocean breezes, making it a renowned summer retreat. The official residence in Fenggang was situated at a high elevation, and from the railing, one could gaze upon an endless expanse of blue sea dotted with white sails resembling scattered flowers. A black-backed seagull with white wings accidentally flew into the flower garden, and startled by the sight of people, it quickly took flight and circled above. The attendant hurried to the back garden where Madam Murong was trimming newly bloomed roses to arrange in a vase. Seeing his demeanor, she realized something was amiss. Thinking it was official business, she turned back and smiled at Murong Feng, saying, “See, I guessed right. Before eight o’clock, there’s bound to be a call for you.”

To her surprise, the attendant approached and said, “Madam, Miss Si called. She said that Third Sister-in-law fell. From her tone, she seemed very worried.” Madam Murong’s heart tightened. If it were just a harmless fall, they wouldn’t have called; the consequences were self-evident. Her only hope was that Wei Yi, being young and flustered, had panicked unnecessarily, creating a false alarm. She immediately put down her scissors and said, “Prepare the car—I’m going back to Shuangqiao.”

By the time she returned to Shuangqiao, it was already afternoon, and the sky was growing dim. The ancient towering trees surrounding the Shuangqiao residence made the dusk seem even darker. As soon as she stepped onto the second floor, she found several doctors gathered in the small reception room. Upon seeing her, they all stood up and greeted her, “Madam.” After reading their expressions, she already understood seven or eight parts of the situation. She asked, “What’s the condition?”

Among the doctors, Dr. Qin was recognized as an authority and responded, “We still recommend not moving the patient to avoid exacerbating the bleeding.” Madam Murong nodded slightly, sighed, and said, “I’ll go in and take a look.”

Though her steps were light, Su Su still heard her. Seeing her, she called out, “Mother,” and attempted to get up. Madam Murong quickly said, “Don’t move.” Su Su’s tears began falling like broken strings, sobbing, “I was too careless—I’ve truly failed your love for me.”

Madam Murong held her hand and said, “Good girl, it wasn’t intentional.” Turning to Wei Yi, she instructed, “Tell them to remove all the carpets from the stairs.” Wei Yi acknowledged her order. Patting Su Su’s hand, Madam Murong consoled her, “Don’t cry—it’s my fault for being careless. A few days ago, Wei Yi tripped there too, and I didn’t think to have the carpet removed. It’s all my oversight.” But Su Su’s tears wouldn’t stop. Suddenly recalling something, Madam Murong asked, “Where is Lao San?”

Everyone looked at each other in confusion. They called an attendant to ask, who replied, “We haven’t found Third Master yet.”

Madam Murong remarked, “This foolish boy! I’ve already returned from Fenggang—has he disappeared off the face of the earth?” Though she was always kind and dignified, the attendants feared her even more than Murong Feng. At her sharp questioning, the attendant hastily replied affirmatively and went out to make more calls. Realizing the gravity of the situation since Madam Murong had rushed back, they immediately changed their tone and started calling around bluntly, “Do whatever it takes to find Director Lei. Something has happened to Third Sister-in-law, and Madam has already returned.”

Thus, they located Lei Shaogong. By the time Murong Qingyi returned to Shuangqiao, it was completely dark. He rushed upstairs, crossed the corridor, but suddenly stopped, hesitating for a moment before finally heading to the main living room first. Madam Murong sat in a recliner, with Wei Yi nestled beside her. Wei Yi’s eyes were red, but Madam Murong’s expression revealed little. Seeing him, she sighed. His face was pale, and unconsciously, he took half a step back. Madam Murong said, “Go see Su Su—she’s already suffering enough.”

He stood there, motionless like a statue, but his fists were tightly clenched. After a long pause, he forced out a sentence through gritted teeth, “I won’t go.”

Wei Yi exclaimed, “Third Brother, Third Sister-in-law didn’t mean to do this.” Madam Murong looked at him, her eyes revealing a mother’s tender pity, much like when he was very young and struggled to reach candy on a table—knowing he couldn’t reach it, yet trying so hard. That maternal compassion filled her eyes with a soft mist. This tall, elegant gentleman in front of her was still, in her heart, just a very small child. She said, “Silly boy, at a time like this, you must see her, even if you don’t say anything, just let her know you’re there.”

He turned his face away, stubborn as ever. “I won’t go.”

Wei Yi was confused by his behavior and looked back at Madam Murong. Madam Murong sighed deeply and said, “Your stubborn nature—I can’t persuade you otherwise. Your father beat you within an inch of your life several times, but it didn’t change you either. Sooner or later, you’ll suffer because of this. Lao San, I’m doing this for both you and Su Su’s sake. Are you really unwilling to see her? She’s going through the hardest time now. If you don’t go, she’ll surely think you blame her. Do you want to see Su Su heartbroken?”

He remained silent for a long time before finally turning and walking toward the door. But as he approached the room, he involuntarily stopped. A single lamp burned in the corridor, its light scorching in the summer heat. He stood there, as if under a spell, surrounded by silence. Straining his ears, he couldn’t hear any sound from her—not even her breathing. How could he hear anything through a closed door? Just one door, yet it felt like a barrier separating two worlds—one he lacked the courage to enter.

Dr. Qin emerged from the room and called out, “Third Master.”

Su Su, already exhausted and half-conscious, heard this and urgently opened her eyes. The nurse quickly bent down to wipe the sweat from her forehead and asked, “Would you like some water?” She silently opened her mouth—no, it wasn’t water she wanted. What did she want…? No… she didn’t want… Trembling, she grasped the nurse’s hand, her voice barely audible, “No… don’t let him in.”

Curious, the nurse turned back. He had already stepped inside, standing by the door. Hearing her words, his face instantly drained of color, looking ashen. She didn’t dare look at him, clutching the lace edge of the blanket as if he were a ferocious beast. Finally, he turned and left, his steps initially heavy as if dragging lead, but growing faster and faster until he stormed around the corridor corner, entered the study, and slammed the door shut with a loud bang. The resounding noise echoed through the corridor and caused a large tear to silently roll down her cheek.

She drifted in and out of consciousness until midnight, waking up in pain. The nurse still asked, “Is it hurting badly? Or do you need something?” Physical pain was almost negligible compared to the anguish in her heart. What did she want…? What did she want…? She tossed and turned, drenched in cold sweat… What did she want…? All she wanted was an unattainable luxury… Therefore, she could only humbly deny herself… Only by denying herself would she not lose again, because she had never truly possessed, and thus would never lose again. Losing was so despairing, like having her heart carved out alive, unbearable agony. She had already lost her heart and couldn’t bear his reproach. He was angry—so angry. He might not care for this child, but it was her fault. She had been so careless, falling down the stairs… She didn’t want… She wished she’d never have to face him again.

Madam Murong always rose early. First, she checked on Su Su before heading to the study. The study was originally a large suite. Entering the rest area, she saw Murong Qingyi lying on the bed fully clothed, wrapped in blankets, facing inward and unmoving. She sighed, sat down beside the bed, and gently said, “Lao San, you should still go see Su Su. I can see you can’t let go of her.”

Murong Qingyi abruptly turned his head and stared straight at her. “I can let go—I don’t want her anymore.”

Madam Murong spoke softly, “Good boy, now isn’t the time to say hurtful things. She didn’t fall intentionally—she’s more upset than anyone.”

He threw off the blanket and sat up, his lips twitching slightly, but his voice was firm as steel. “Anyway, I don’t want her anymore.”

Madam Murong gazed at him silently, then sighed deeply again. “You keep saying you don’t want her, but what about your heart?”

He stared at the morning sunlight streaming through the window. The light was a pale gold, as if gilding everything it touched, yet gray floated within the gold, countless specks of dust like needles piercing his heart, relentless and suffocating. He clenched his fists tightly, her voice echoing in his ears: “Don’t let him in.”

She didn’t love him. Even in her most helpless and painful moments, she chose to face them alone rather than with him. She didn’t love him. She didn’t want him… He forced out a harsh statement. “I don’t have her in my heart—I don’t want her anymore.”

Madam Murong was silent for a long time before finally saying, “In my opinion, we should wait until Su Su gets better. Such reckless words shouldn’t be repeated, to avoid breaking her heart further.”

He turned to look out the window. Ginkgo trees, countless tiny green fans, swayed in the morning breeze, like thousands of little hands tapping aimlessly. The tree shade rippled like water, cicadas chirping everywhere, burning fiercely in his heart like wildfire.

The wind blew, rustling faintly through the woods, carrying the coolness of autumn. From the terrace, ginkgo leaves fluttered down like rain, blanketing the ground in gold, scattering and flying everywhere. Fallen leaves covered the steps, crimson and unswept. One leaf slowly landed on the terrace railing, its veins still clear, but already fallen apart, reduced to dust. Wei Yi walked over, holding a newly bloomed white chrysanthemum, and lightly tapped Su Su’s shoulder. “Third Sister-in-law, the weather’s nice today, and it’s the Mid-Autumn Festival. Let’s go out and eat crabs.”

Su Su replied, “There’s food in the kitchen.”

Wei Yi pouted. “Home is so boring. Let’s go eat out.”

Su Su shook her head gently. “I don’t want to go.”

Since her illness, Su Su had grown increasingly despondent. Though she had never been one to enjoy lively gatherings, she now spoke even less than before. Wei Yi noticed that her temperament had become more subdued; whenever she raised her eyes, her gaze always seemed fixed on something far away. Wei Yi was naturally a lively person, but seeing Su Su’s demeanor made her unable to act spoiled or playful. Noticing the book Su Su had casually placed on the coffee table, Wei Yi remarked, “Aside from Father, you’re the most diligent reader in the house. You’ve probably already read quite a few of the hundred thousand volumes in the library.”

Su Su replied, “I’m just passing the time—I can’t compare myself to Father.”

Wei Yi observed her indifferent expression and felt uneasy herself. After chatting with her for a while, Wei Yi went downstairs to the back courtyard, where Madam Murong was feeding the koi by the pond. Watching the colorful fish wriggling and competing for food in the clear water, Wei Yi hesitated for a moment but finally couldn’t resist saying to Madam Murong, “I think it’s Third Brother’s fault. Since he married Third Sister-in-law, he should be devoted to her. Look at how heartless he’s being now—it’s breaking her heart.”

Madam Murong carefully pinched the fish food and said, “What injustice are you championing today?” Wei Yi replied, “I saw that Miss Ye yesterday—she’s alluring like a spider spirit, nothing compared to Third Sister-in-law’s beauty. I don’t understand why Third Brother is so taken with her, letting her parade around openly.”

Madam Murong sighed and said, “Your third brother is a fool.”

Wei Yi agreed, “Exactly—he must be bewitched.”

Following the customs of her hometown, Su Su delivered Mid-Autumn gifts to her aunt’s house. On her way back, as they passed the neighborhood where she used to live, she looked at the familiar streets and told the driver, “Take a detour to Sanguan Alley—I want to see the old house.” The driver pulled up at the entrance of the alley, stopped the car, and said, “Madam, let me accompany you inside.” Su Su didn’t like having staff follow her around, so she said, “No need—I’ll just take a look from outside.” The driver agreed and waited by the car.

It was quiet in the alley during the afternoon. Even the usually noisy children were nowhere to be seen. The sky was overcast, and the wind blowing toward her felt cold, as if rain was imminent. The fine weather from the morning had changed so quickly.

From afar, the autumn begonias under the fence were in full bloom, and the morning glories on the fence spread their green vines, dotted with one or two half-withered blue flowers. The yard was neatly kept, and she thought the house must have been rented out again. She had lived there for many years, and though the house was old and small, the landlady had been kind, making it feel like home to her.

Standing in the wind, she didn’t feel cold. After standing there lost in thought for a long time, she heard the door creak open. A little girl, about a year old, toddled out. Her mother followed behind, picked her up, and scolded gently, “Just a blink, and she’s gone.” Looking up and seeing Su Su, the woman curiously studied her. Su Su saw that she was an ordinary young wife, with a round face and a warm, gentle demeanor. Though her clothes weren’t fancy, her smile radiated peace and contentment.

The corners of Su Su’s lips curved into a sorrowful smile. As a young girl, she too had dreamed of such tranquility—a life of marriage, children, aging, and the simple joys and sorrows shared by all. But now, those dreams felt distant and meaningless.

The driver, worried, eventually came looking for her. She returned to the car and stared out the window at the bustling streets. The lively world outside seemed separated from her by a pane of glass. As the car neared the outskirts of the city, she spotted the fork in the road ahead—the black asphalt leading to the private highway of the official residence. She told the driver, “Please turn around—I’d like to visit a friend.”

She went to Mulan’s house but found no one home. Mrs. Fang greeted her warmly, saying, “You’re a rare guest—we don’t often see you. It’s unfortunate that today isn’t convenient.” Su Su took her leave but happened to encounter a car pulling up at the gate. She didn’t recognize the license plate. Mulan got out and, upon seeing her, was delighted. “What brings you here?” Taking her hand, Mulan blurted out, “You’ve lost weight.”

Su Su forced a smile and said, “Back when I danced, I was always worried about my weight. Now that I’ve stopped dancing, I’ve somehow grown thinner.” Just then, she noticed someone stepping out of the car—it was Zhang Mingshu. She didn’t think much of it, but Zhang Mingshu froze on the spot, struck as if by lightning, staring at her intently. Mulan, not noticing, said, “We shouldn’t stand here like fools. The house is messy, and I’m embarrassed to invite you in. Let’s go out for tea instead.”

It had been a while since Su Su last saw Mulan, who naturally had much to say. They ordered pre-rain tea and snacks. Mulan commented, “The tea here is nothing special, but the pastries are excellent. Look at these thousand-layer cakes—they’re so authentic.” Su Su replied, “This tea doesn’t taste like pre-rain tea—it’s more like Mingqian tea.” Mulan chuckled and said, “Your palate has improved.” Though Mulan’s comment was casual, Su Su found it unexpectedly refreshing and managed a faint smile. Seeing Zhang Mingshu silently drinking his tea across the table, she asked, “Does Mr. Zhang still go to see ballet performances often?”

Mulan answered, “He often attends to show support.” She then shared some amusing anecdotes about the troupe, which left Su Su feeling nostalgic. “Hmm, I really want to see everyone again,” Su Su said. Mulan, in high spirits, teased, “That would be wonderful, though it might cause quite a stir and stress out the director.” Su Su replied, “Next time I’ll go alone without telling anyone.”

They talked for two hours. Realizing it was Mid-Autumn Festival and that there was a small family dinner at home, Su Su reluctantly took her leave, though she was loath to part. By the time she returned home, it was evening. A drizzle had begun, and the dark outlines of the trees were gradually blurred. Inside the house, the lights were bright, and servants bustled about. The family dinner included no outsiders—Jinrui and his family brought their children, filling the house with laughter. Murong Feng, rarely relaxed, amused himself by playing with his grandchildren. Murong Qingyi arrived last. Concerned that Murong Feng might get upset during the holiday, Madam Murong quickly suggested, “Let’s eat now.”

The children made the meal lively, and Madam Murong remarked, “When they were young, I taught them not to talk while eating, and they obediently listened. Now that they’re older, they’ve forgotten those rules.” Murong Feng said, “They’re naturally lively—why force them to be as dull as adults?” Madam Murong smiled and said, “You’ve always spoiled them. As soon as you see them, you soften. It’s strange—Jinrui and Wei Yi are one thing, but especially Lao San. You used to be so strict with him when he was young. Who would have thought you’d spoil them so much now?” The youngest grandson, Jieru, piped up sweetly, “Grandpa is the best. Grandpa’s ears are soft—I love Grandpa the most.” This remark made the whole family laugh. Su Su, who had been smiling, suddenly turned her head and caught Murong Qingyi looking at her. His gaze froze the faint smile on her lips, and the corners of her mouth slowly drooped into an arc of helplessness.

After dinner, he left as usual. Worried that Su Su might feel hurt, Madam Murong called her over to talk. “Su Su, don’t take it to heart. He has his difficulties outside. It’s rare for someone like you to be so understanding.” Su Su softly responded, “Yes.” Madam Murong held her hand and said gently, “Lao San is just stubborn. Deep down, he values you the most. Don’t pay attention to his nonsense—I’ll scold him later. I can see you have something on your mind but won’t say it. Are you angry with him?” Su Su shook her head lightly and said, “I’m not angry with him.”

Madam Murong said, “He’s been unhappy lately. You don’t have to keep accommodating him. There’s nothing couples can’t talk about. I think it would be good for you and Lao San to have a conversation. As a mother, this is as much as I can say. Seeing the two of you like this pains me the most.”

Su Su lowered her head and murmured, “It’s all my fault for worrying you, Mother.”

Madam Murong sighed and patted her hand. “Good girl, listen to me—talk to him. Couples don’t hold grudges overnight. Things will improve once you clear the air.”

Lost in thought, Su Su’s expression grew distracted. Mulan tapped her hand with a spoon, startling her. Smiling, Mulan asked, “What are you thinking about? You seem so absentminded.” Su Su gathered herself and said, “Nothing. Didn’t you call me out today because you had something to tell me?” Mulan’s face reddened slightly as she said, “Su Su, there’s something I need to tell you. Please don’t blame me.” Curious, Su Su asked, “What is it?” Mulan hesitated before saying, “I know… he used to like you.”

For a fleeting moment, Su Su was stunned, recalling the three windmills. But within a second, the memory turned into a bitter ache. He had been so kind to her, yet her heart had no room for anyone else—it belonged to that domineering man who tormented her endlessly, like a dream she could never escape. Their fateful bond had extinguished her hopes, but in the end, she realized it was all wrong. She had lost her heart, lost everything, only to be discarded like trash.

Seeing her distant expression, Mulan forced a smile and said, “Let’s go look at some fabric at the silk shop.”

As they left the silk shop, Su Su happened to glance at a car parked by the roadside. It startled her for a moment. The attendant in the car, seeing her notice, knew he couldn’t avoid her and reluctantly got out. “Madam,” he said. Though surprised, she didn’t dwell on it. Feeling guilty, the attendant quickly explained, “Third Master is at Shuangqiao. We’re out for other business.”

Hearing this, Su Su gradually understood and nodded, murmuring, “Ah.” She bid farewell to Mulan and left.

That evening, Murong Qingyi surprisingly came home for dinner. Madam Murong had accompanied Murong Feng to a public banquet, leaving only Wei Yi at home. In the vast dining room, the three of them seemed lonely and distant. Wei Yi tried hard to make conversation, asking, “Third Brother, what have you been busy with lately?” Murong Qingyi replied, “Just work.” Glancing at Su Su, he saw her usual composed expression, but inside, he felt inexplicably bitter and agitated. The pair of gold-inlaid ivory chopsticks in his hands felt like they had thorns, almost slipping from his grasp. He wanted to throw them down. She paid him no mind—not even a single question, not even a pretense of warmth.

After dinner, Su Su retreated to the study to read. She opened a volume of Song poetry, her eyes lingering on scattered lines: “On the eighth loom, who knows whose poem this palindrome is? Woven into a tapestry of sorrow, each line read brings silence, unwilling to ponder further. Twin flowers, twin leaves, twin branches… unwilling to ponder further. Spending a fortune to buy an essay, how could there be any turning back?” She had long lost the courage to confront him. Today’s encounter was merely the final reality she could no longer avoid. She forced back her tears, feeling as insignificant as the lightest speck of dust. What right did she have to question him? She had known from the start that his attraction to her was only superficial, evident from his initial forceful pursuit.

It wasn’t until midnight that she returned to her room. Only a bedside lamp was on, casting dim light. She sat lightly on the bed, unaware that he was awake until he suddenly sat up. Seeing a cup of tea on the nightstand, she reached for it, only to find it had gone cold. Hesitating, she set it back down and finally muttered, “I… I’ll go get a fresh cup.”

His voice was stiff. “No need.”

She suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion and sat back down, retreating like a snail hoping to curl back into its shell. But she didn’t even have the fragile shell that a snail possessed.

He stared at her and suddenly asked, “Why don’t you ask me?”

Her voice was barely audible. “Ask what?” What did he want her to ask? Whether he came home at night? Who he spent his evenings with? The names casually dropped in family gossip that she had overheard? Her tears had long dried up—what more could he possibly expect from her? Outside, the sound of wind and rain whispered through the streets; the city was drenched in storms as the Chongyang Festival approached, and even the heavens refused to show mercy.

Under the dim light, her silhouette was painfully thin, stirring a deep ache in his heart. Almost like a nightmare, he reached out to her, but instinctively, she flinched back slightly. His pain erupted like oil catching fire, spreading violently and igniting the last remnants of his lingering resentment.

He sneered. “On this day last year, you begged me to bring the child back.” Her eyes widened as he abruptly ripped open the scab of her deepest wound, pulling at her very soul with unbearable agony, leaving no room for her to breathe. The dark, menacing look in his eyes loomed closer. “Let me tell you now—the child is dead.”

Her whole body trembled, and with her last ounce of strength, she clutched the cold, carved flowers on the edge of the bed. Her lips quivered, but no words escaped. Yet he refused to let her be. “That child died last year. In this lifetime, you will never see him again.” One hand gripped the collar of her clothing tightly, as if only by doing so could she force herself to breathe. A strange smile curled at the corners of his lips as he watched tears spill from her eyes, as though they were victorious blossoms unfurling.

She no longer had the courage to endure. Those tears seemed to flow not from her eyes but from the depths of her heart, like gushing blood. She tilted her face up, weakly grasping his sleeve as if making one final plea. But he stared at her with resolute anguish, driving her to retreat in despair. Her hand brushed against something cold—a porcelain vase—and in a frenzy of desperation, she seized it and hurled it at him. He was a devil! A monster!

He dodged, and the doucai vase shattered into pieces. Then, with a swift motion, he slapped her. The sharp, metallic taste of pain overwhelmed her senses, and a buzzing filled her ears. Dizzy, she collapsed onto the soft couch, instinctively covering her cheek. He grabbed her, and she stumbled into his arms. His eyes burned with a wild, desperate fury, like a dying beast, and all he wanted was for her to perish alongside him!

Like a bird trapped in a cage, she clawed at her own feathers in madness. She grabbed whatever she could find and threw it at him—a lamp crashed to the floor with a dull thud. Stepping on the shards of the broken vase, her slipper flew off, and the sharp edges sliced into her foot. Blood seeped onto the carpet, but she felt no pain—her emotional anguish had already surpassed all physical sensation. Yet when he saw the crimson lotus blooming from her wound, he suddenly released her, stepping back with an expression she couldn’t comprehend.

She gasped for breath, her chest heaving. He lowered his gaze, noticing the faint scar on his arm where she had bitten him deeply last year—it still lingered there.

He said, “Tomorrow, I’ll tell Father—we’re getting a divorce.”

Summoning every ounce of strength, she tilted her head up, struggling to steady her breathing. So, he truly didn’t want her anymore. To rely on beauty to please a man—how could that last? He had been bewitched by her appearance, charmed for a fleeting moment, but who could be captivated forever? This face had destroyed her life in an instant. And yet, she managed a faint smile. From the first day they met, she had known that his world wasn’t one she could remain in for long.

Madam Murong heard that Murong Feng was angry in the study and, fearing the situation would escalate, hurried over. She heard Murong Feng say, “Tell me, in what way has Su Su wronged you?” Murong Qingyi stood silently before the desk, head bowed. Murong Feng continued, “Now you want a divorce? When I asked you before about marriage, didn’t you say you had thought it through? It hasn’t even been a year, and you’ve changed your mind? You’re just chasing after new pleasures and bullying others with your status!” Seeing Murong Feng’s rising anger, Madam Murong quickly interjected, “Lao San is indeed in the wrong, but you shouldn’t lose your temper. Let me handle disciplining him.”

Murong Feng replied, “It’s because you’ve always spoiled him that he’s become so frivolous. Look at him now—he’s come to me demanding a divorce. If word gets out, won’t it be a laughingstock?”

Hearing the harshness in his tone and realizing he was genuinely upset, Madam Murong softened her voice. “Lao San has indeed acted foolishly. Playing around outside is one thing, but he should know his limits. From what I see, Su Su doesn’t seem like someone without tolerance. Why are you insisting on a divorce? Aren’t you deliberately shaming us?”

Murong Qingyi remained silent, enduring his mother’s veiled reproaches. As expected, Murong Feng huffed, “Don’t use the child as an excuse to throw barbs.”

Madam Murong said, “What did I say? You’re acting so guilty.”

Murong Feng retorted, “Guilty of what? Every time I discipline him, you blindly defend him. I’d like to see how far you intend to spoil him.”

Madam Murong shot back, “If he’s acting reckless today, it’s because the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” This jab was too pointed, and Murong Qingyi quickly called out, “Mother!” Madam Murong raised her head, revealing her usual composed and serene smile. Murong Feng, enraged, glanced at the calligraphy hanging on the wall—his own handwritten characters reading “Tranquil Serenity.” Struggling to maintain his composure, his heavy, labored breathing gradually calmed. Finally, he shifted his gaze to Murong Qingyi and said, “You’re such a disappointment. From now on, I won’t meddle in your affairs. Divorce is absolutely out of the question. If you truly don’t want to live with her, just have her move out.”

Murong Qingyi remained silent, head bowed. Murong Feng slammed his hand on the desk, causing the pen rack and inkstone to tremble slightly. “Get out of my sight!”

Murong Qingyi left the study, followed by Madam Murong. He said, “Mom, don’t take it to heart. Father’s upset about work, so he’s venting elsewhere.” Madam Murong gazed at him and asked, “Lao San, do you really want to separate from Su Su?” Murong Qingyi turned his head toward the empty corridor, where an attendant walked past carrying stacks of documents. Faint telephone rings echoed from the duty room, distant as if from another world.

He said, “Yes—I don’t want to see her again.”

The house was located near Wuchi, not far from the Shuangqiao official residence. Originally purchased as a new home for Murong Qingyi upon his marriage, it had remained unoccupied since Madam Murong preferred having her children close by. On this rare clear autumn night, the moonlight spilled cool and silvery over the pond, reflecting the withered branches and leaves. Suddenly, she remembered that autumn night when he had pointed out the lush lotus pond to her—its vibrant green leaves overlapping like parasols, the delicate pink and white blossoms rising gracefully above the water, bathed in moonlight. It was a scene preserved by the warm spring water, ethereal and otherworldly, surpassing nature’s craftsmanship, and thus, perhaps, inviting envy from fate.

Below the stone steps, the autumn begonias had bloomed, their petals shyly tilting to one side, as if unable to withstand the slightest breeze. In a few days, grass would likely sprout beneath these steps. The palace of osmanthus trees long mourned, forgetting the spring; the golden halls gathered autumn dust. The bright mirror of the moon hung high in the sky, its cold light falling solely on the lonely inhabitants of the Changmen Palace. This moonlight, indifferent to human suffering, mocked those who yearned for its fullness—for in the blink of an eye, it would wane again into a slender crescent, like a poorly drawn eyebrow, harshly pressed against weary flesh.

The maid, Xinjie, came looking for her. “Madam, these slate stones are cold, and the night wind in autumn is particularly biting. You should go back inside.”

Cold and warmth, day and night, rain and sunshine, spring and autumn—what difference did any of it make to her now?

Feeling a chill on her pillow, she rose and lifted the curtain slightly. It was raining. The sky was a deep gray, and the sparse raindrops fell from the eaves, each one striking her heart like a hammer blow. The late-blooming clematis had opened, its fragile petals trembling as if a single breath could melt them away. With the clematis in bloom, spring had already passed.

In the mirror, her face was pale and lifeless, her lips devoid of color. Xinjie came over and opened the wardrobe door, saying, “Today is a happy occasion. Wear this red dress.”

The silk pajamas hung loosely around her ankles, cool and soft, like the night breeze brushing against her skin. Inside the wardrobe, rows of luxurious garments shimmered—brocade, embroidery, damask—decorated with scattered flowers, clusters of blooms, and trailing branches. Patterns both subtle and bold, stitched with intricate beads, spoke of a life once dazzling and opulent, now reduced to a dreamlike spectacle. She obediently changed into the silver-red cheongsam. Xinjie remarked, “Madam should wear brighter colors more often. You’re young—you look so beautiful, like a flower.”

A face like a flower, those radiant peach blossoms, had long ago been swept away by the currents, buried at the ends of the earth.

She rode to the Shuangqiao official residence, where Madam Murong waited in the small reception room. Upon seeing her, Madam Murong extended her hand warmly. “Good girl.” She softly called out, “Mother.” Madam Murong carefully examined her and adjusted the brooch on her chest. “This is the one I had sent to you last time—it suits your temperament perfectly.”

The brooch was crafted by a renowned foreign jewelry company, its three diamonds glinting under the light like a trail of fine tears. Yet Madam Murong said, “There will surely be reporters later. Go to my dressing room—there are people waiting to redo your makeup and hair.”

She softly replied, “Yes.”

Makeup and hairstyling were painstaking tasks. After finishing, she descended the stairs and paused at the door, hearing voices that were both familiar and distant. Her steps faltered slightly. She walked in almost silently, but Jinrui turned around and noticed her, calling out, “Su Su.” Then added, “You really should put on makeup more often—it makes you look healthier.”

Her eyebrows, long unwashed and unkempt, bore traces of old makeup stained by tears. The red silk of her gown was marked by neglect. All day, she remained uncombed and unwashed—why bother with pearls to console such profound loneliness? ... This glittering array of jewels and finery, dazzling to behold, made her nothing more than a decorative flower adorning luxury, admired by others but leaving her with no real place of her own.

Murong Qingyi didn’t even turn his head. Madam Murong said, “Su Su must not have had breakfast either. Lao San, go and eat something with her. The banquet isn’t until two in the afternoon, so there’s still plenty of time.”

Murong Qingyi stood up and walked out. Madam Murong gave Su Su a meaningful glance, and Su Su had no choice but to follow him. The kitchen was considerate; upon hearing it was their breakfast, they remembered their individual preferences. They prepared a Western-style meal for Murong Qingyi and a delicate porridge with small dishes for Su Su.

In the vast dining room, the only sounds were the occasional clinks of his knife and fork against the plate, followed by silence. The last time they had seen each other was during the Lunar New Year—months had passed since then. He looked thinner, likely due to his busy work schedule, and his eyes betrayed fatigue and irritation. Perhaps he was irritated with her, or perhaps with the occasion itself—a pretense of harmony forced upon them.

They finished breakfast in silence. She quietly followed him to the large living room on the western corridor. As they walked down the hallway, he suddenly turned around and reached out to take her hand. Her body involuntarily trembled slightly. Then she noticed the reporters in the living room, all turning their heads toward them. He smiled as he wrapped his arm around her waist, and the sound of camera shutters clicking softly filled the air, accompanied by flashes of bright magnesium light. She gathered herself and, like Madam Murong, offered the cameras a smile that seemed blissful.

It was a Western-style wedding. Wei Yi wore a wedding gown, and her veil was held by three pairs of little flower children. Her smile was as sweet as honey. After the ceremony, confetti, streamers, and rose petals rained down like a dreamy shower of flowers. A perfect match, destined for a hundred years of happiness. She and Qi Xi were the golden boy and jade girl, an ethereal couple beyond mortal reach.

That evening, fireworks lit up the sky over the Shuangqiao residence. Blooming against the black backdrop, each burst of fireworks shone brilliantly for an instant. The terrace was crowded with guests, and amidst the throng, he lightly embraced her—but it was all just for show. He tilted his head back to watch the display, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes reflected the glow of the fireworks, as if a faint flame had ignited within them. But almost immediately, the light dimmed and faded into the familiar cold emptiness, like a thin layer of ice forming over his gaze.

The night breeze blew, sending a chill through her that made her shiver slightly. The scene was lively and extravagant, surrounded by so many people, with him standing so close. Yet she was alone, facing the cold wind.

On the far side of the dance floor, the band tuned their instruments. The opening waltz began, its melody rising and falling like gentle ripples on a blue lake or the crisp jingle of copper bells swaying in the wind. Su Su became momentarily lost in thought. When she turned her head, he had already extended his hand, and she had no choice but to place her hand in his. His hand was cool, but his dancing skills remained impeccable—spinning, turning… Around them was a sea of perfumed hair and elegant attire. Only in this moment, only now, could she rightfully tilt her face up and quietly gaze at him.

But his gaze unconsciously drifted away, only returning to meet hers after a second or two. His eyes were warm, almost making her feel a fleeting illusion. A blush spread across her cheeks, and her breathing grew shallow and quick. She felt as light as a butterfly, his arms the only anchor, allowing her to be effortlessly led through the flower-filled dance floor. Gradually, the music became the only sound in her ears—spinning, spinning… until she felt slightly dizzy. The music was a vast ocean, while his eyes were an endless abyss. She no longer had the strength to try to look down, fearing she might impulsively leap into it. He spun her several times more before guiding her away from the noisy heart of the dance floor. As the music crescendoed into its final magnificent chapter, her vision dimmed briefly, and she found herself standing in the shadow of a floral barrier.

He suddenly kissed her, pulling her tightly into his arms, leaving no room for escape or resistance. He had always been so domineering. The familiar yet distant warmth made her body go limp, but the pressure on her lips once again stole her breath. He greedily drank in her essence, like someone crossing a desert on the brink of death encountering their first spring of water—desperate and unrelenting, his breathing ragged and hurried.

She didn’t want this—not from him. Knowing that he was once again captivated by her beauty, she couldn’t bear the pain of losing him again. So she refused, refusing to let him treat her like one of the countless beauties by his side—occasionally remembered and pitied. Even if she were as humble as wild grass, she had already been abandoned by him. From now on, she would never allow him to look back at her again.

With a forceful tug, she broke free. He abruptly let go of her hand. She stared at him calmly, watching the flicker of fire in his eyes gradually turn icy cold. Instead of fear, she felt a strange courage, meeting his sharp gaze head-on. He curled his lips into a cold smirk, flung her hand away, and stormed off, cutting straight through the dance floor and disappearing into the depths of the jubilant crowd.

By the time the party ended and the guests dispersed, it was already three in the morning. Madam Murong said, “I’m getting old—I can’t stay up any longer. I’m going to bed. Su Su, it’s so late; you should sleep here tonight to avoid having to come back early tomorrow.” With no choice but to agree, Su Su replied, “Yes.” Just as Madam Murong turned her head, she caught a glimpse of Murong Qingyi’s figure outside the door and quickly called out, “Lao San, where are you going at this hour?”

Murong Qingyi replied, “I just received a call—there’s something I need to attend to.”

Madam Murong asked, “Where could you possibly be going in the middle of the night?”

Murong Qingyi said, “It’s official business. If you don’t believe me, ask the duty attendant.” With that, he walked out. Madam Murong could only smile at Su Su and say, “Never mind him. You go ahead and rest.”

Su Su went upstairs. She hadn’t entered this bedroom in nearly half a year, but the room was still arranged as it had been before, even her slippers placed exactly where they used to be. The servants kept everything spotless. Yet she knew he hadn’t returned to this room in days because of the antique clock on the bedside table—he always wound it himself. The date on the clock was still set to months ago. Of course, he had other places to go.

The bed carried the faint, familiar scent of fragrance. It was so wide, and she instinctively curled up. Just as she was beginning to drift off, the phone suddenly rang. She picked up the receiver, and before she could speak, a soft, coquettish voice on the other end complained, “You heartless man, are you really going to make me wait until dawn?”

A bitter smile crossed her face. Her heart, battered and broken, had grown numb even to pain. She softly said, “He’s already gone—you won’t have to wait until morning.”

Waiting was an endless aging process, but she had even stopped waiting. The towering bookshelves in the study held thousands of books, accessible only with a special ladder for the higher shelves. The passage of time within those pages flowed faster than water, and the swirling words occasionally splashed like waves. But her heart had become a dark, ancient well, overgrown with duckweed and moss, slowly being consumed piece by piece. Spring had passed, the swallows had flown away; summer had faded, the cicadas’ songs had grown sparse. Autumn had ended, and yellow flowers lay scattered on the ground. Winter had arrived, and the rain sounded cold and brittle. The seasons blurred together—she was a solitary flower in a deep courtyard, unnoticed, slowly wilting beside a crumbling well, losing its color, fading into grayness, until one day, it would crumble into dust.

Her jade-like beauty had withered over three years. She had once lost four years, and now, she was losing again—another long year. She feared—it would be forever.

The house was so spacious, quiet like a secluded valley. The rustling of her clothes seemed the only echo. Outside the window, the cold rain tapped gently against the panes. Suddenly, the phone in the living room rang sharply, breaking the watery silence and startling her. She sighed softly—it was probably another call from the attendant’s office, notifying her of some obligatory event. Xinjie answered the phone and then told her, “It’s Miss Fang.”

Perhaps Mu Lan was the only one who still remembered her. She heard Mu Lan say, “Su Su, happy birthday.” Only then did she remember and softly exclaimed, “Ah!” Mu Lan continued, “I was afraid you wouldn’t be home. I invited a few old friends from the troupe to dinner. If you’re free, could you come? Consider it our way of celebrating your birthday.”

The room was filled with old friends. When she entered, they all stood up and smiled silently. Only Mu Lan came forward and said, “I thought you wouldn’t be able to come today.” Su Su smiled and replied, “After receiving your call, I was truly happy.” Xiao Fan laughed and said, “Wow, I saw your photo in the newspaper recently—I barely recognized you. You’ve become even more beautiful, though you’ve lost some weight.” This remark sparked chatter from the others, and the atmosphere warmed up.

The chrysanthemum hot pot sizzled softly, its pale blue flames licking the golden copper base. Through the thin haze of rising steam, Su Su was reminded of the troupe’s gatherings at small eateries. Back then, they’d also had hot pot—nothing as elaborate as this—but the laughter and chatter amid the steam had been just as lively, like yesterday.

Xiao Fan was still her chirpy self. “Su Su, you’re the most heartless one. We rarely hear from you unless we see your photos in the newspaper.” Mu Lan giggled and said, “Su Su, ignore her. She’s already said she’s going to hit you up for drinks today.” Xiao Fan grinned mischievously and pulled out a newspaper from her bag. “Look, I saved this especially for you—the photo is really good.”

Su Su reached out and took it. It was a family portrait taken during Wei Yi’s wedding. She stood behind Madam Murong, a faint smile on her face, with Murong Qingyi beside her. He was dressed in a rare Western-style suit, his familiar face above the bow tie, but with a strange smile. Standing side by side like that, they appeared to others as the epitome of happiness.

Mu Lan took the newspaper and teased, “Xiao Fan, do you really expect Su Su to sign it for you?” She then urged everyone, “The pot’s about to dry out—let’s eat quickly.” Raising her glass, she said, “Birthday girl, you have to drink this.”

Su Su finally smiled. “You all know I can’t handle alcohol.” Xiao Fan said, “This plum wine is as mild as soda—it won’t get anyone drunk.” Mu Lan laughed. “None of us are big drinkers—it’s just for the festive spirit.” Everyone else joined in the persuasion, and seeing their sincerity, Su Su had no choice but to take a small sip. Xiao Fan raised her glass and said, “Well, here’s to wishing you many more birthdays like this one.” Su Su replied, “I really can’t drink anymore.” Xiao Fan feigned surprise. “What? Am I less persuasive than Mu Lan?”

Hearing this, Su Su reluctantly drank half a glass. Once the precedent was set, the others naturally followed, offering toasts. With no way out, Su Su ended up drinking a few glasses. She wasn’t used to alcohol and soon felt her ears and face grow hot, her heart racing. Amidst the chatter and laughter, she ate some dishes and had a bowl of sweet soup, which made her feel slightly better.

When she stepped out of the car, the cold wind hit her, making her feel dizzy and disoriented. Xinjie greeted her with a smile, taking her handbag and saying cheerfully, “Third Master is here.”

She was startled and looked toward the living room. His figure stood out clearly against the dark outlines of the furniture. Her heart felt as if it were on fire, and her stomach churned with pain, as though what she had drunk earlier wasn’t alcohol but poison that seared through her bones. The look on his face made her lower her head. His voice was cold and hard like stone: “Ren Su Su, you still dare to come back?”

The effects of the alcohol pounded heavily on her temples, each throb causing the veins there to pulse sharply, as if pricked by needles. He grabbed her wrist, and the pain made her gasp softly. When he let go, she stumbled back. “I see you’ve forgotten your place. Where did you go to get yourself into this state?”

She silently raised her face, looking at him with calm indifference. This calmness infuriated him. She was always like this—no matter what he did, he could never shake her. In anger, he swept the teacup off the coffee table, and the sound finally caused her to flinch slightly.

His anger stemmed from the idea that something belonging to him might be coveted by others. With a weary heart, she lowered her head again. He had rejected her, yet he wouldn’t tolerate anyone else having any intentions toward her either. She didn’t even bother to defend herself anymore, consumed only by icy despair.

He said, “I’ll never trust you again.”

A faint, sorrowful smile appeared on her face. When had he ever trusted her? Or why should he? In his life, she was as insignificant as the tiniest speck of dust. What he couldn’t tolerate was this speck accidentally flying into his eye, and he would not rest until it was removed. If not for that, how could she have drawn his fleeting attention?

The weather grew colder, and it began to rain in the afternoon. She sat alone, listening to the rain patter mournfully, as if weeping and lamenting. As a child, she disliked rainy days—they were damp, cold, and confined her indoors. But now, in her isolated life, she had grown accustomed to the sound of the rain, softly tapping against banana leaves, drop by drop shattering her heart, like a low, sorrowful whisper in her ear. Now, only the rain seemed to understand her. Perhaps heaven truly took pity on her, shedding tears for her until dawn. Beyond the silent terrace, smoke and rain kept her company.

She pulled out a sheet of plain paper to write a letter to Mu Lan but stopped after writing just three lines, lost in thought. She flipped open a book and slipped the paper inside; the words written last year were still visible: “Even if I spent a fortune to buy Sima Xiangru’s poem, how could I expect a second glance?”

By now, she no longer expected even that.

The weather was cold, but the official residence was heated, and flowers were everywhere—vases of cut flowers, arrangements of seasonal narcissus in crystal stone trays… In the dining room, a cloisonné vase held plum blossoms, their fragrance intensified by the warmth, spreading like spring itself. Jin Rui and his wife, along with Wei Yi and her husband, brought their children, making a lively gathering of more than ten people. Wei Yi’s son, still in swaddling clothes, was adorable. Su Su held him, and his bright, round eyes stared intently at her. Wei Yi joked, “They say nephews resemble their uncles—Mother says this child looks somewhat like Third Brother when he was little.” Madam Murong laughed, “Isn’t that true? Look at those eyes and nose—the resemblance is quite striking.” Su Su gazed at the baby’s tiny, delicate face, and suddenly, an unbearable pain welled up in the most vulnerable part of her heart. It was an indescribable sorrow.

Murong Feng, however, was in high spirits. Together with Murong Qingyi and Qi Xicheng, they finished off a jar of Huadiao wine. Wei Yi teased, “Father is truly happy today, Third Brother. Don’t encourage Xicheng to drink more—you know his tolerance.” Murong Qingyi, already somewhat tipsy, just smiled and replied, “Girls always favor outsiders. Since you’re protecting him so much, I’ll deliberately ignore your advice.” They ended up drinking several more cups, and Qi Xicheng was already completely drunk before they finally stopped.

Last year, Su Su had returned home immediately after the New Year’s Eve dinner. But this time, Madam Murong said, “Lao San seems to have had too much to drink. Go upstairs and check on him, and don’t leave tonight.” The implication was clear. Because Madam Murong had always treated her kindly, Su Su didn’t want to disappoint her on such an important night, so she went upstairs. Sure enough, Murong Qingyi was quite drunk. After coming out of the bathroom, he collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep. Su Su sighed softly. Seeing him haphazardly wrapped in the blanket, she lay down fully clothed beside him.

She usually slept lightly, but that day, exhausted from staying up late, she drifted off into a deep sleep. In her daze, it felt as though she were lying in her aunt’s house on a low, simple bed, the ceiling stained with watermarks from leaking rain. The heat was unbearable, as if the sun outside had turned the room into a fiery mountain. Yet she alternated between feeling cold and hot. She heard her aunt say, “It’s not that I’m heartless, but today, he must be sent away.” The child cried incessantly, struggling fiercely in his swaddling clothes, as if understanding the adults’ words. The baby wailed desperately, his cries piercing her heart and bringing tears streaming down her face. She reached out pleadingly, sobbing uncontrollably… Her child… her powerless child… She waited for him, finally meeting him, watching him from afar as every step of his dance pierced her heart. Child… Could he help her find her child? She pleaded, choking on her sobs… San… San…

During their most intimate moments, she had once called him by his childhood name. He turned over in his sleep, perhaps drunk or dreaming. The heart-wrenching cries still echoed in his ears. She was crying… He woke with a start, instinctively reaching out. “Su Su!” It was really her, curled up there, trembling softly. She called his name again, “San…” Just that one word shattered something within him. Over two years, he had painstakingly built a dam around his heart, believing it to be unbreakable. Yet it crumbled instantly under the weight of that single word. Just that one word, and he was spellbound—she was here, truly here. He pulled her tightly into his arms. “I’m here, Su Su, I’m here…” She opened her tear-filled eyes and looked at him under the dim light. Though he had been absent for two years, abandoning her, his eyes now held a tender softness. Perhaps he was drunk, or maybe she was dreaming, but he gazed at her as if she were the most precious treasure in the world, something he feared losing if he let go. She trembled, and his familiar scent enveloped her, warm and inviting like a moth drawn to a flame. She knew she was walking straight into destruction, yet the way he looked at her reminded her of the past… Those times when he had once gazed at her so greedily…

The faint smell of alcohol lingered on him, and her eyes gradually returned to their usual sorrowful calm. She turned her face away, but he urgently sought her lips. She resisted—she didn’t want this inexplicable comfort. Perhaps he mistook her for someone else. She raised her hand to block him, whispering, “No…” Knowing that her refusal wouldn’t stop him, it was just a final, desperate struggle. But he paused, slowly releasing her. A look she didn’t understand began to appear in his eyes—it almost resembled sadness… He looked like a child whose beloved toy had been snatched away, or like a trapped animal watching the hunter approach with a gun. That look of despair made her heart race. In a dreamlike voice, he murmured, “Su Su, I love you.”