Chapter 9. Whispers of the Heart, Echoes of the Strings

The melody of the strings conveys deep emotion, their sound fragmented yet profound. Pages upon pages of words are written on perfumed paper, yet still, the longing of spring remains unfulfilled.

Lying awake, listening to the sparse rain tapping against the wutong leaves, after the rain ceases, the faint moonlight casts a hazy glow. Where did my dreams wander all night? To that pavilion surrounded by willow trees.

The weather was unbearably hot. Dressed in his military uniform while on duty, Lei Shaogong had already broken into a sweat walking down the corridor. As soon as he entered the duty room, he took off his cap. The ceiling fan spun, but it only circulated waves of hot air. After pouring himself a cup of cold tea to drink, the bell suddenly rang. The attendant on duty muttered in surprise, “Strange—Master isn’t here. Who could be ringing the bell in the study?” Lei Shaogong replied, “It’s probably Third Master. I’ll go check.”

Murong Qingyi didn’t expect it to be him. With his head bowed, he said, “Bring me all the files Father instructed me to review yesterday.” Lei Shaogong asked, “That’ll take a while. Are you eating here today, Third Master?” Murong Qingyi finally raised his head. “You? You’re even more nagging than the others now, meddling with kitchen affairs too?”

Lei Shaogong said, “You haven’t been home for nearly a month. Today is your birthday—go back for dinner.” Murong Qingyi snorted. “Isn’t this my home? Where else do you want me to go?” Lei Shaogong knew he was feigning ignorance, but feared saying too much might backfire, so he simply said, “They called to say Third Madam has seemed ill these past few days. You should at least go and check on her.” Seeing him remain silent, Lei Shaogong sensed some softening and added, “I’ll call for the car.”

It was dusk, the setting sun casting long shadows over the courtyard’s flowers and trees. Water had just been sprinkled on the stone paths, the heat rising in steamy waves. The tuberoses below the steps were in full bloom, their fragrance intensified by the heat. Su Su sat in a wicker chair, the surroundings deathly quiet except for the oppressive heat, which made one feel restless. She lazily fanned herself with a silk fan, occasionally stopping. Xin Jie approached and said, “The courtyard was just watered—it’s very hot out here. Third Madam, why don’t you go inside to sit?” Too lazy to move or speak, she slowly shook her head. Xin Jie asked, “The kitchen wants to know what you’d like for dinner tonight. Shall we prepare porridge again?”

She nodded. Xin Jie left but returned shortly after, beaming with excitement. “Third Madam, Third Master has returned!” Her hand trembled slightly, her heart burning with anxiety—he had finally come back.

Her soft-soled satin shoes made no sound as she walked across the floor. The living room lights were off, and his face was indistinct in the dimness. She stood far away, a solitary figure, waiting for him to speak.

Behind her, the fading twilight outlined her slender frame. He gazed at her for a long time, the distance between them insurmountable—a chasm he could never cross. She would never smile for him; in his presence, she always kept her head bowed, silent and reserved.

A wave of helplessness washed over him, forcing him to turn his face away. In a cold, detached voice, he said, “I heard you’ve been sick. Did you call Doctor Xu to see you?” She gave a faint nod. His expression remained indifferent, weary, and it extinguished the last flicker of hope in her heart. But Xin Jie, unable to contain her joy, exclaimed, “Third Master, Third Madam is too shy to say it herself—we must congratulate you!”

He turned to look at her, but her eyes betrayed only calm indifference. This child, she considered it insignificant, perhaps even something she resented. She didn’t love him, and evidently, she didn’t want his child either. He lost the courage to even ask about it, merely staring at her.

Her eyes gradually filled with sorrow… He had guessed correctly. This untimely child only added to her troubles, becoming a burden. Helplessly, he turned his face away. Outside the window, twilight descended, the shadows of the trees blurred, and night fell.

Lei Shaogong hadn’t expected him to leave so quickly, knowing it must mean things hadn’t gone well. Silently, he followed him into the car. Finally, he heard him say, “Let’s go eat Suzhou cuisine.”

The waitstaff at Yixin Pavilion greeted him like a rare phoenix, ushering him in with broad smiles and incessant chatter. “Third Master hasn’t graced us with his presence for a while. Today, we have extremely fresh mandarin fish.” He called to the counter, “Fetch that twenty-year-old nu’er hong from the cellar.”

Though the claim of twenty years was likely exaggerated, the wine was potent. As they drank, Lei Shaogong managed to hold his liquor, but Murong Qingyi was already seven or eight parts drunk. Just as dessert was served, someone pushed open the door and said cheerfully, “Third Master, on a day like today, this uninvited guest must come to offer you a toast.”

Lei Shaogong glanced up to see her dressed in a pale yellow qipao, graceful and elegant—it was Xu Changxuan. She was very close to Jin Rui, who treated her like a younger sister, and thus she was also familiar with Murong Qingyi. Drunk as he was, he only laughed. “Weren’t you studying abroad? When did you return?” Xu Changxuan replied, “I’ve been back for a while. I remembered today was a special day—why are you dining alone? Where’s Third Madam?”

Lei Shaogong saw her stirring up trouble and quickly interjected, “Miss Xu, are you back for vacation, or are you staying permanently?” Xu Changxuan smiled. “Permanently—I’m not leaving anymore.” Noticing Murong Qingyi watching her, she slowly lowered her head.

Madam Murong had returned from her summer retreat in Fenggang. Jin Rui and Wei Yi came to see her. The children played in the courtyard while the three women chatted in the small reception room. Wei Yi asked, “Is Third Sister-in-law coming today?” Madam Murong replied, “She’s indisposed, so I told her not to come.” Jin Rui remarked, “I can’t believe how irresponsible Lao San is. Look at Su Su—how can he still be fooling around?” Wei Yi added, “It’s strange. We’ve known Changxuan for years—why is Third Brother suddenly interested in her now?”

Jin Rui said, “I think Changxuan is being foolish.” Madam Murong countered, “Changxuan isn’t foolish—it’s Lao San who is foolish.” She added, “Jin Rui, don’t underestimate Changxuan.”

Jin Rui felt displeased. A few days later, she invited Xu Changxuan out for tea. Seeing her dressed in a pale purple qipao with subtle cloud patterns, she remarked, “Why are you dressed so plainly?” Changxuan smiled. “Lately, I’ve found simplicity more appealing.” Jin Rui said, “Changxuan, you know what Lao San is like—he’s the best at breaking hearts. Don’t fall for his tricks.” Changxuan laughed. “Sister, what are you talking about? Recently, I’ve just been having meals and tea with Third Master—that’s all.”

Jin Rui understood her meaning and felt somewhat displeased, only saying, “Well, look after yourself.”

After the Lunar New Year, Madam Murong, concerned about Su Su’s approaching due date and fearing she might neglect herself while living alone, asked her to move back to Shuangqiao for closer care. Murong Qingyi’s visits home were fleeting, barely more than a formality before he left again.

The weather grew warmer day by day. Su Su strolled in the courtyard. Just as she passed through the flower trellis, she heard a familiar voice—it was Wei Yi, her tone tinged with frustration. “Third Brother is so foolish. With Third Sister-in-law about to give birth, he doesn’t even come home.” Jin Rui chimed in, “Exactly. Xu Changxuan really has him wrapped around her finger.” Not wanting to eavesdrop, Su Su turned to leave, but in her haste, she twisted her waist. A sharp pain shot through her abdomen, and she couldn’t help but cry out softly. Jin Rui and Wei Yi rushed out from behind the trellis to find her drenched in sweat. Wei Yi panicked, “Third Sister-in-law!” Jin Rui said, “It seems labor has started. Hurry, call for help!” She helped Su Su up.

Su Su was overwhelmed with pain, her mind foggy. Though Madam Murong appeared calm, she was restless in the living room. After sitting for a while, she stood up again. After some time, she asked, “Hasn’t Lao San returned yet?” Wei Yi reassured her, “He must be almost here by now.” Jin Rui, trying to lighten the mood, teased, “Mother, you’re so biased. When I gave birth to Xiaorui, I didn’t see you this worried.” Madam Murong sighed, “This child… ah…” Just then, she looked up to see Murong Qingyi returning. His face was pale, so she comforted him, “Don’t worry—it will still be a while.” Despite her words, Murong Qingyi paced restlessly, like a caged animal, glancing upstairs from time to time.

By nightfall, it began to rain. Past midnight, the rain grew heavier. The wind rustled through the branches outside, sneaking through the gaps in the windows and causing the heavy curtains to sway slightly. Madam Murong felt a chill and quietly called for the staff. “Have them light the fireplace, but be gentle—they mustn’t disturb Su Su.” She then told Jin Rui and Wei Yi, “You two go to sleep. There’s nothing to worry about now.” Wei Yi whispered with a laugh, “How can we sleep now? We must wait until they bring the baby out for us to see.”

The fire in the hearth crackled to life, its red glow warming the room. Madam Murong watched as Su Su, utterly exhausted, slept deeply. Strands of hair clung to her damp forehead, her face pale but for her thick black lashes, closed like delicate fans. Looking up, she saw Murong Qingyi gazing intently at Su Su and couldn’t help but sigh softly.

The nurse brought the baby out. Wei Yi was the first to take the child. She softly exclaimed, “Third Brother, look at this child’s delicate features. She’ll surely grow up to be a great beauty.” Madam Murong smiled. “Her grandfather has already called twice to ask about her.” Jin Rui chuckled. “Father has finally become a grandfather—he might even rush back early from his trip.” She teased, “Lao San, are you so happy you’ve lost your tongue?” Wei Yi added, “I know Third Brother—he’s sulking because it’s a girl.” Madam Murong said, “What’s wrong with a girl? Next year, they can have a boy.” She then urged, “Let’s not stay here and risk waking Su Su. You’ve seen the baby—go back to your rooms and rest.”

As they left, Madam Murong gave the nurse a few more instructions before retiring to her own room. Once the baby was taken away, the room fell silent. Su Su, still half-asleep, felt a warm hand gently holding hers. Thinking it was Madam Murong, she murmured faintly, “Mother,” before drifting off again.

Murong Qingyi gazed at her for a long time. Her hand rested softly in his palm, cool and delicate. Only now, only in this moment, could he gaze at her without restraint, without her pulling away. She had endured such suffering, yet not once had she complained to him or confided in him. Even to Madam Murong, she had shown more trust than to him.

His arm grew numb from holding her hand for so long, but he wished the night would never end. He wished this moment could stretch on longer, just a little longer.

Murong Feng was preoccupied with official duties and only returned to Shuangqiao on the third day. Murong Qingyi went to see him in the study, where a servant was grinding ink beside him. Murong Feng had just set down his brush when he saw his son enter and said, “You’ve come at just the right time.” On the rice paper lay four characters, which Murong Qingyi softly read aloud: “Murong Jingyan,” derived from the Book of Songs verse, “Jingyan Sizhi” (“Quietly Reflect Upon It”). Madam Murong, standing nearby, remarked, “It’s a good name, albeit rather literary. These past few days, everyone has been calling her ‘Nannan.’ It seems this nickname will stick for a long time.”

The Murong family had many relatives and friends, and Murong Feng generally disliked extravagant celebrations. However, in his joy this time, he made an exception. Madam Murong hosted a grand and lively banquet to celebrate the baby’s full moon. Naturally, it was Su Su who carried the child out for everyone to admire. The guests murmured their praises, and Wang Qilin chimed in with a smile, “What a truly beautiful little girl she is.” She added, “She doesn’t resemble Third Master much—she seems to have inherited all her mother’s beauty.” Wei Yi countered, “Who says she doesn’t look like him? Look at that high nose bridge—it’s just like Third Brother’s.” Wang Qilin laughed, “Oh dear, forgive my clumsy tongue—I didn’t mean it that way.” At that moment, Su Su raised her eyes, her gaze clear and piercing like the surface of a deep pool, black and white sharply contrasted. For some reason, Wang Qilin felt an inexplicable jolt but quickly recovered, smiling and saying, “Third Madam, please don’t take offense. You know how I am—I can’t seem to say anything right.”

The banquet lasted late into the night before the guests finally dispersed. After seeing them off, Murong Qingyi went upstairs, first stopping by the nursery to check on the baby before entering the bedroom. Su Su had not yet gone to bed. Seeing him enter, her dark, star-like eyes fixed on him without anger or sorrow, yet they sent a bone-chilling cold through him. That coldness eventually ignited his instinctive rage. “Don’t look at me like that!” he snapped. “I told you I wouldn’t touch you—I meant it. I’ll never touch you again in this lifetime!”

Her eyes remained as calm as still water, devoid of any ripples. After a long while, she slowly lowered her head as usual, seemingly relieved. His hatred for her burned fiercely within him. She had destroyed everything he held dear. The rest of his life stretched out before him, an endless abyss of despair and cruelty. Effortlessly, she had driven him to the brink, leaving him no choice but to utter a chilling sentence: “Don’t think you can have your way, treating me like a fool.”

She lifted her eyes again, still with that same tranquil, icy gaze, as cold as fresh snow under the moonlight, cutting straight to the core of his being. Finally, she spoke, her voice steady: “Do you really doubt me so much?”

He knew she had misunderstood his words, but the glimmer of tears in her eyes gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction. He would rather she hated him than looked at him with such detached indifference, as if her gaze passed right through him to some void beyond. To be treated as if he were invisible—he would rather she hated him, even if it meant remembering him through hatred. Her cruelty and ruthlessness had killed whatever remained of his heart. He was already trapped in an eternal hell, enduring unending torment. Let her hate him completely, then—if she could hate him enough to never forget him, it would be better than having no trace of him in her heart at all. Without thinking, he blurted out: “Yes, I do doubt you—and the child. Even that one from six years ago—who knows if he’s truly my son?”

Her entire body trembled. The deepest pain in her heart was being treated as a lie in his eyes. In his mind, she had become so despicable. Faint cries from the baby’s room next door reached them. She realized with bitter clarity that he hadn’t even spared her the last shred of dignity. His cruelty crushed her utterly, and then he delivered those cold, ruthless words. The baby’s cries grew louder, each wail slicing through her like a knife. Despair overwhelmed her, and she turned her head away, tears streaming down her face. Perhaps it was better that she had never brought the child into this world; waiting for her in the cradle was nothing but shame. And he doubted her—how could he doubt her like this?

The baby’s cries grew louder and more insistent, each sound tearing at her heart. Tears spilled uncontrollably as she shook her head faintly, her eyes filled with the final vestiges of despair. Her expression struck a painful chord within him, an ominous premonition rising in his chest. He lunged forward, grabbing her hand. She struggled fiercely, but he refused to let go. She bit down hard on the back of his hand, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth, yet he still clung to her tightly. Finally, she managed to wrench one hand free and, with all her strength, slapped him hard across the face. The sound echoed sharply in the room. She froze, stunned. So did he, gradually loosening his grip. Seizing the moment, she spun around and bolted toward the door. He chased after her, and she nearly stumbled down the stairs, each step feeling empty, each movement like falling further into an abyss. Pain had numbed her senses, leaving behind only a desperate longing to escape. She would rather die than live another moment, enduring such humiliation and doubt, facing him day after day. If this was how he treated her, she would rather perish.

Outside, a car had just returned from seeing off the guests. The driver had barely stepped out and hadn’t yet turned off the engine. She pushed him aside and climbed into the driver’s seat. As she pressed the accelerator, she heard his final, anguished cry: “Su Su!”

The car shot forward like a fleeting black butterfly, crashing violently into the thick trunk of a ginkgo tree. Fresh ginkgo leaves fluttered down in the dim yellow glow of the streetlights, resembling a torrential rain of emerald green. Waves of excruciating pain engulfed her from all sides, and an endless darkness swallowed everything whole. In her final moments, a faint, bittersweet smile crossed her lips.

The long night seemed interminable, as though dawn would never come. In the lounge, a single lamp cast a hazy light, its glow reminiscent of a tear-filled eye, blurred and stinging. The hurried footsteps that followed shattered the silence, stirring a panic akin to that of a lost child suddenly realizing they’ve been separated from their parents. Overwhelming fear and despair gripped him as he stared blankly at the doctor’s face. Under the weight of Murong Qingyi’s intense gaze, the doctor avoided eye contact. Finally, Madam Murong gently asked, “Please tell us the truth—what is the situation?”

“There is bleeding in the brain… We… we cannot stop the bleeding.”

Murong Qingyi finally asked, his voice trembling, “What do you mean?” His eyes were bloodshot, entangled in a nightmare of despair that sent chills down the doctor’s spine. Madam Murong softly took his hand and said, “My dear, go see her.” Wei Yi, unable to hold back any longer, covered her mouth with a handkerchief and sobbed. Murong Qingyi shook his head slightly, then suddenly broke free from Madam Murong’s grasp, staggering toward the ward. Jin Rui tried to steady him but was shoved aside.

One of Su Su’s arms hung limply over the side of the bed. The room was so silent that the faint dripping of the IV fluid seemed audible. He carefully lifted her hand, pressing it solemnly and slowly against his face. Her complexion was ghostly pale, her lashes trembling faintly like the most delicate flower petals caught in the wind. Each labored breath beneath the oxygen mask cut into him like a knife, slowly shredding his insides. He had never felt such cold—it was as if he were trapped in an ice cellar, his very blood threatening to freeze. He wished it were him facing death instead of her. It would be easier to bear than watching her like this—her cruel act of defiance, choosing death over enduring life with him. His heart was reduced to ashes, leaving only despair. So this was it—she would rather die than remain with him.

This realization nearly drove him mad. Slowly lowering his head, he whispered, his voice heavy with grief and desperation, “I beg you. I’ve never begged anyone in my life, but I’m begging you now. Please, you must live. I promise you can leave me—I swear I’ll never appear before you again. Even if I never see you for the rest of my life, I only ask that you stay alive.”