Chapter 73

Xie Que Shan returned to Wang Xue Wu, his clothes stained with blood and a chill surrounding him, like a living king of hell. The female servants who came toward him were startled, each of them kneeling to the ground, not daring to breathe.

He didn’t want to speak, too lazy to explain, and walked straight to his room.

“Xie Que Shan!”

A crisp female voice called out, stopping him.

Xie Que Shan numbly stopped and turned around, calling, “Second Sister.”

Lady Gantang stepped forward, frowning. “Your clothes are unkempt. What kind of appearance is this?”

She then took out a handkerchief and raised her hand to help wipe the blood off his hands.

Xie Que Shan was very obedient, letting his second sister handle him.

“What happened?” Lady Gantang whispered, but then quickly muttered to herself, “Forget it. It’s not appropriate for me to know your matters.”

“Second Sister.” Xie Que Shan’s voice seemed to carry a trace of pleading. Lady Gantang wondered if she had heard wrong and looked up at his face.

He still wore that expressionless, deathly look.

But Lady Gantang could sense that her younger brother was going through something huge. His appearance was already revealing a vulnerability that he would never normally show.

After all, they were blood-related family.

“You speak,” her voice softened a little.

“Can you help me find a few of the best doctors in the city for external injuries?” After a pause, Xie Que Shan continued, “But don’t let anyone know.”

“Who is injured?” Lady Gantang raised her brow, sensing something was wrong.

Xie Que Shan did not answer, standing still.

“I understand. I’ll take care of it,” she said.

Only after receiving her consent did Xie Que Shan leave. In truth, he wasn’t certain whether these preparations would be useful.

He numbly returned to his room and sat at his desk until dusk.

If Guailai Hall backed down, they would certainly send someone back within the day, but there was not a single piece of news. Xie Que Shan’s heart sank as the sun set, plunging into the darkness of the night.

He realized that his opponent was an even crazier and sharper gambler, one who wouldn’t yield an inch and had even wagered a larger stake. He hadn’t anticipated how deep Chapter Yuehui’s hatred for him ran.

The barefooted are unafraid of wearing shoes—this world is full of madmen with nothing left to lose.

And what about him? He was both a player in the game and someone who could decide its outcome. Whether they won or lost depended entirely on his decisions.

…But he might not make the right decision.

At that moment, a faint, almost imperceptible burnt smell drifted in with the wind, snapping Xie Que Shan back to his senses. He pushed open the window in confusion and saw smoke rising from the small courtyard—this was the courtyard where Nan Yi used to live.

Xie Que Shan was startled, thinking there was a fire, and without a second thought, he leaped from the roof.

It turned out that the female servants were burning things in the courtyard.

Xie Que Shan dropped from the eaves and scolded sharply, “What are you doing?”

The female servants quickly retreated and bowed. The one leading them explained, “Master, the young madam fell ill and was taken to the estate a few days ago. Aunt Lu said the things in the room might be contaminated with the illness, so she ordered us to burn the clothes.”

Xie Que Shan scanned the scene, and in the fire pit, a few not-so-old clothes were burning. By the time the words were spoken, the flames had already devoured the garments.

Xie Que Shan was irritable. “The person is still alive, why burn them?”

The female servants, scolded, dared not make a sound, all lowering their heads, unsure why the master suddenly lost his temper.

“Leave.”

In an instant, the female servants cleared out, leaving Xie Que Shan alone in the courtyard.

He stared at the fire pit in a daze, thinking that if she knew her clothes had been burned, she would be heartbroken.

Xie Que Shan turned his eyes away. Her door was wide open, and for some reason, he walked inside.

The room had been searched and was in disarray, but traces of the owner’s presence could still be faintly seen.

The rouge box on the corner of the desk had not been closed, and inside the grooves of a wooden comb were a few strands of long hair. Everything seemed normal, as though the owner would be back tonight.

Xie Que Shan walked behind the screen and saw the cluttered desk, with the four treasures of the study—brush, ink, paper, and inkstone—haphazardly scattered. The brush was still soaked with ink, stiff and dry, with two inkstones placed next to it—one was an ordinary inkstone, while the other was unusually exquisite.

Xie Que Shan remembered this inkstone; it had been a gift from Song Mu Chuan to her on the day of the spring banquet. When he picked it up, he saw a neat line of delicate characters engraved on it: “May the elder sister live in peace, joy, and have a long life.”

Xie Que Shan froze for a moment, then realized this couldn’t have been written by Xie Xiao Liu. It should have been a gift from Qiu Jie’er to her, perhaps to thank her for saving Uncle San.

But why did it come to Nan Yi from Song Mu Chuan?

Some long-forgotten, unnoticed events quietly began to piece together in his mind. He had been curious about the relationship between Song Mu Chuan and Nan Yi, so he had sent someone to investigate. He learned that the day before Song Mu Chuan entered the Bingzhu Division, he had jumped into a river and was saved by Nan Yi.

Perhaps that day, when Nan Yi went out, she carried this inkstone, and it ended up in Song Mu Chuan’s hands? Later, when she went to Hu Gui Mountain to follow her second sister, she wouldn’t have had the inkstone with her.

Why would she take this with her when she left? And that day, she also stole something from Aunt Lu.

A possible answer suddenly emerged—she had wanted to raise cash.

It turned out that by then, she had already decided to leave but had been kept back by his words. Because he promised her that he would let her go and allow her to live out her life peacefully.

He knew she probably didn’t believe him much, but she had no place to go, and so she had no choice but to trust him.

But he hadn’t brought her anything good.

Xie Que Shan flipped through the stack of rice paper on the desk, all of it filled with her handwriting. He could easily imagine her sitting crookedly while practicing, her mouth hanging open, ink smudged on her face, reluctant but still hardworking.

Underneath, there was a book, and when he casually flipped it open, he found a few neatly folded sheets of rice paper tucked inside.

As he unfolded it, his gaze froze.

It was his name—Xie Chao En.

She had been secretly practicing his original name, writing it more carefully than any other word, carefully hidden inside the book.

He suddenly remembered that she had once joked that she would learn to write his name to curse him.

Those memories became vivid again. He could clearly recall the sunset shining on her face that day, making the fine hairs on her skin glow in the light.

In her eyes was the golden sunshine, so bright that even in his memories, it burned his eyes.

Just thinking about the suffering she was enduring now made his heart twist. His wound, which had been healing, started to hurt again—more painfully than the one she had inflicted on him.

As she wished, he had indeed been cursed.

Admit it, he loved her.

He loved her resilience, her softness, her untamed nature, and everything she had pierced through him. Love is unreasonable and overwhelming.

He was the last person in this world who should have had the right to love, yet he fell in love with someone. He had always thought that this insignificant love was something he could control. He had been too arrogant.

His steps took him through the pavilions and towers of Wang Xue Wu, and in the end, he found himself standing before the Buddha hall at the back mountain.

The red door was tightly shut, with guards stationed outside, sealing it off from the inside.

Xie Que Shan stood motionless for a long time, as though his feet were weighted with lead, unable to move.

He desperately wanted to ask his sovereign father what he should do.

He was a sword forged for the emperor, tempered through thousands of trials, meant to be drawn at the most critical moment, but certainly not now.

Yet from the moment Pang Yu died, a crack appeared inside him. Up until this very moment, that crack had become a roaring abyss, almost ready to swallow him whole.

Why could he not protect the person he was meant to safeguard? What had his vow to “establish a heart for heaven and earth, establish a life for the people” really amounted to?

To save one person or to save the world—this has never been an isolated dilemma. Its answer changes with circumstances, moment by moment.

He knew that the great ship of the dynasty had already sacrificed many, and from the perspective of an observer, adding one more would not make a difference. But the limitation of a human being is that they can only rise and fall with the masses. At times they may rise above, but they cannot always be right, cannot always be wise.

There is also a certain nobility in human foolishness.

The mortal body, with all its loves, hates, and passions—this is the star that ignites life. Perhaps his decision was wrong, but he did not regret it.

He had always tried his best, within his capabilities, to save those he could. If he allowed her to die now, he would never be able to become the person who saves the world.

And what Zhang Yuehui held was exactly Xie Que Shan’s very nature. This was a bet he was destined to lose.

As the sky darkened, the spring wind grew sharp and cold. Night fell.

Xie Que Shan slowly knelt before the red gate, and solemnly bowed three times.

He was a sinner, and at this moment, he was forsaking his king. But he asked for the king’s forgiveness; in the end, he was just a mortal.

Since the day he surrendered at Youdu Manor, he no longer belonged to himself. But tonight, let him be selfish and despicable once more, let him be the unrestrained Xie Chaoen once again.

…

In Huachao Pavilion, the trap set for Xie Que Shan was already in place.

The performance was about to begin. Wan Yan Jun had been waiting in the private room. Since Zhang Yuehui personally asked him to set the trap, the matter was surely significant, and he had to come. Naturally, he was also curious to see which high-ranking person from the Bingchu Department would arrive today, so he could understand who was stirring trouble in Lidu Manor.

In the dungeon, Zhang Yuehui had just finished inspecting the mechanisms when his gaze was drawn to a corner of the desk, where a green-tinted corner was wrapped in a white handkerchief. Along with it were a woman’s purse, fragrance pouch, and several silver notes, piled messily in the corner.

The guard noticed his gaze and explained, “Master, these were found on Qin’s person.”

At that moment, Zhang Yuehui had a strange sense of foreboding. His eyes could not move away from the green tint, for within the jade, there was a faint crack.

He lifted the handkerchief and found several broken pieces of a jade bracelet.

The crack he had personally chosen, the distance he had thought he was carving out—it had always been destined to cause their separation from the start.

Zhang Yuehui stood frozen, struck as though by lightning.

He was like a kite soaring higher and higher, yet there was always an invisible string holding him back, unwilling to let him leave the human realm. That string pulled at his flesh, making him bleed, and finally, at this moment, it caused him to crash to the ground.