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[Part 3·Swaying Green Clouds Askew]
When Bai Shating was imprisoned, he felt an unexpected calm.
The day before, when Ye Liuchun had visited him, he’d already sensed something ominous. Neither of them, however, anticipated that the Crown Prince would act so swiftly—before he could even figure out what to do, the guards were already at his doorstep.
Once inside the Ministry of Justice, they began torturing him immediately, shoving documents in his face and demanding confessions.
“What did you mean by writing ‘White sun ascends to the capital... a trail of cold stars’? Is this not a veiled criticism of the Crown Prince’s virtue, wishing for his downfall like a falling star?”
The whip lashed against his back. It hurt, but Bai Shating wanted to laugh. Seeing his smile, the interrogators grew angrier, preparing more severe punishments. Suddenly, a man resembling an overseer intervened, halting the torture.
The overseer returned him to his cell and secretly sent medicinal ointment for his wounds.
Bai Shating clasped his hands in gratitude, his voice trembling: “Thank you, thank you, Brother… May I ask your name? Once I am released, I will repay your kindness.”
The man lowered his gaze modestly: “No need for thanks, Master. My surname is He. I owe a debt to Young Master Zhou, and this is but a small repayment. However, my abilities are limited. You must find a way to save yourself from this predicament.”
“Mm,” Bai Shating murmured, his eyes closed. “Brother He, if it’s convenient, could you deliver a message to Spring Maiden at the Spring Wind Melts Rain Pavilion for me?”
“Tell her… to harden her heart and not come see me. I am, after all, a person of some renown in Bianjing. They wouldn’t dare kill me.”
It was strange. Since childhood, Bai Shating had always considered himself someone who feared death above all else. Yet now, lying there battered and bruised, what terrified him most was the thought of Ye Liuchun doing something irreversible.
Zhou Tan was still in Ruozhou and hadn’t returned to court. Ai Dishi, though influential among the common folk, couldn’t possibly save him. Su Chaoci and Song Shixuan had endured years of restraint, and his unreliable older brother Eleven…
Why had he been imprisoned? It was clear enough: Song Shiyan knew Gao Yunyue was hiding in the Spring Wind Melts Rain Pavilion but couldn’t act directly. By arresting him, they could pressure Ye Liuchun into handing her over.
Knowing Ye Liuchun’s character, she might choose death over betraying Gao Yunyue.
Adding him to the equation only made things worse.
But what did it matter? Bai Shating thought calmly. If she handed over Gao Yunyue, the latter was doomed. As for him—the charges of the Spring Bright Poetry Case could range from minor to major, usually resulting in banishment or exile. Surely his life wasn’t in danger… right?
Ye Liuchun was intelligent. She would know how to choose. Moreover, given their past—yes, he knew she still harbored resentment toward him.
Back then, after storming out in anger, he drowned his sorrows with friends. Drunk, he poured out his troubles: “Tell me, what goes through a woman’s mind? I’ve been racking my brain, worrying endlessly, yet she inexplicably vents her anger on me…”
His friends teased him: “Thirteen must have said something wrong. How else could such a beauty be upset without reason?”
“Thirteen, you’re heartless! Think carefully about what you said to her!”
Cradling his wine jug, Bai Shating struggled to recall: “I said… I said I’d take the exams this year and secure a title. Without achievement, how could I marry the highborn lady Father desires? If I don’t work harder, Father won’t approve of taking… taking a lowborn concubine.”
He nearly bit his tongue, swallowing the word “lowborn,” and quickly amended: “A poor woman as a concubine.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than a friend burst into laughter, clutching his stomach: “Thirteen, oh Thirteen! Who consoles like that?”
“Don’t say that. For a poor woman to gain Thirteen Master Bai’s favor is already a great fortune. To dream beyond that is sheer folly…”
“How clueless you all are! Fangniang, tell us—if your beloved spoke like this, would you be happy?”
Fangniang, a courtesan from the Qinhuai River pleasure boats, smiled behind her fan: “Young Master Zhao is right. We women may not expect much from married men, but meeting handsome young masters like you… even if our status is low, we can dream. Thirteen’s bluntness might break hearts.”
Amidst the drunken haze, Bai Shating suddenly sobered, muttering incredulously: “You mean… she… Did she want to marry me as a wife?”
“Foolish boy! Only now do you understand!”
“Speaking of which, Thirteen needs to discipline his lover. Your family is Jinling’s foremost clan, and you’re one of the few male heirs. For women of humble origins, becoming a concubine—or even a servant elevated to intimacy—is considered a great honor…”
“Young love is natural, but Thirteen, you’re too naive. Be careful. Don’t let someone scheme against you while you remain oblivious.”
“...”
Bai Shating sat frozen amidst the revelry. The words piled around him like mountains, chaotic and overwhelming. He heard every syllable but couldn’t grasp their meaning.
So… she had wanted to marry him as his wife? That was why she became angry upon hearing those words?
But… but…
A soft hand rested on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Fangniang fanning herself, her usual smile replaced by a complex expression.
“Thirteen…” she began softly.
Bai Shating glanced around. No one paid attention to their whispered exchange; all were engrossed in drinking games or impassioned speeches.
Fangniang poured him another cup of wine, her mirth fading into melancholy. Never had he seen her look so desolate and hollow: “In your eyes, what exactly are women?”
He hesitated, but Fangniang continued without waiting for an answer: “You think you’ve treated her well, don’t you? You believe you’ve done everything possible, feel no guilt, and lament your plans being spurned… But Thirteen, men—even those who fancy themselves deeply in love—are often fixated on worldly matters: status, wealth, power. You know you need a highborn bride to pave your path, considering it natural and justified, never imagining otherwise. Of course, women also weigh options and scrutinize partners, but from what you’ve said, perhaps your maiden never thought about these things.”
Bai Shating absently toyed with the patterns on his wine cup, murmuring: “Yes… Before, I gave her so many gifts of gold and jade, but she didn’t care at all…”
“She loves you and wants to marry you, disregarding her own status—not because she’s foolish, but because she’s truly smitten, deliberately ignoring reality. Even if her lowly birth makes her seem unworthy in the eyes of society—and perhaps even in yours—when love runs deep, who doesn’t dream of a lifelong union? I… cannot bear to hear these devoted lovers called delusional.”
Bai Shating traced the designs on his cup, feeling a dull ache in his chest. The pain wasn’t sharp but acutely bitter—a sensation he’d never experienced before.
Fangniang stood, patting his shoulder: “Thirteen, treat the woman you love as a person, not an object to bend to your will. Not just her, but also the highborn lady you’ll marry someday. What has she done wrong to spend her life with a husband whose heart belongs to another before the wedding?”
Her words carried a tinge of self-pity. Bai Shating raised his cup in a shaky toast: “Yes, yes… I… I was wrong before…”
Fangniang accepted the drink, resuming her smile.
“Don’t blame yourself too harshly, Thirteen. You’re a scion of a noble house. Even with a lively disposition, you’re shaped by societal expectations. Men pursuing ambition isn’t wrong. I only fear that the depths of your courtyard might erode the sincerity of your affection, leaving regret too late to mend.”
________________________________________
These words echoed in his ears as Bai Shating clutched the iron bars of his cell, laughing bitterly. Fangniang had been absolutely right. From that moment on, he had already begun to regret.
Before Bai Shating could delve deeper into his thoughts, he heard the rustle of footsteps behind the iron bars. A pair of embroidered cloth shoes stepped over the dry grass, stopping before him.
Bai Shating looked up to see Ye Liuchun’s eyes, red as though she had been crying.
He instinctively reached out to touch her face, but she stood just out of reach. His fingers hovered an inch from her cheek before slowly retreating.
Reflecting on their relationship, he realized that joy had always been fleeting, while sorrow dominated most of their days.
Aside from those brief moments by the Qinhuai River when they were first smitten, all he had done was hurt her.
He had hidden her away in his outer residence without a proper title, too ashamed to tell his father.
He had calmly informed her that he would marry a highborn lady and relegate her to the status of a concubine.
When he returned to Bianjing, pride had held him back—first avoiding her, then finally mustering the courage to meet her, only to say things that cut deep.
He resented her calm demeanor upon their reunion, too afraid to ask why she had left so decisively. Instead, he lashed out with barbed words, trying to use pain to prove some remnant of genuine affection, squandering chances to reconcile and wasting precious time.
Ye Liuchun stared at him through tear-filled eyes, watching his hand reach out and then retreat. Her lips trembled, but no words came out.
Bai Shating gazed at her, realizing how arrogant he had been. He had always thought youth and happiness were infinite, believing there would be better opportunities to resolve their misunderstandings, to someday prove his feelings.
But all he had now were his tainted reputation and a playboy’s mask, intertwined with layers of miscommunication. How could he expect anyone to believe his sincerity?
Bai Shating closed his eyes, overwhelmed by regret.
Gripping the cold iron bars, he called out to her: “Little Leaf...”
Unaware of his inner turmoil, Ye Liuchun saw only his withdrawn hand.
Interrupting him before he could continue, she said abruptly: “Do you know—”
Bai Shating, weakened by torture, no longer exuded his usual charm and confidence.
The emptiness and trembling in his expression were unfamiliar to her.
He was supposed to be ever-smiling, carefree, and self-assured—born noble, talented, proud, and possessing the spirit of a scholar-poet.
This broken version of him was wrong.
Swallowing her anguish, she continued: “—the Crown Prince wants your life.”
Without waiting for his reaction, she rushed on, as if afraid she wouldn’t finish: “I secretly sought help from Lady Zhou’s brother, Young Master Su, and Mr. Ai. They’ve smuggled Miss Gao and Master Ren out of Bianjing. Mr. Ai arranged fake corpses to deceive the Prince, ensuring their temporary safety. As for you…”
Ye Liuchun trembled violently, clutching the bars for support. Summoning a strained smile, she added: “He wants to kill you and others to assert his authority. I… don’t have the influence to save you.”
Strangely, hearing his imminent death didn’t terrify Bai Shating as much as it should have.
His first feeling was relief.
Thank goodness.
Thank goodness he hadn’t said those words earlier.
If he died after saying them, what would she do?
Bai Shating forced himself to calm down, bowing his head in silence for a moment.
When he looked up again, he had resumed his usual nonchalant, carefree demeanor: “Oh, so I’m going to die?”
Tears brimmed in Ye Liuchun’s eyes but didn’t fall. She managed a weak smile: “Yes.”
“Then let’s talk honestly before I go,” Bai Shating said, sliding down the wall to sit on the cold floor. “There are things I’ve wanted to say for a long time, but never found the right moment…”
“Thirteen, I have a question for you,” Ye Liuchun knelt before him, her usual smile gone. Her beautiful eyes stared at him intently, unyielding. “When I left Jinling, did you regret it?”
Since leaving Jinling, she had never shown such vulnerability to anyone.
This question had haunted her for years, festering like a poisoned thorn.
Seeing her like this, Bai Shating’s heart ached almost unbearably. He struggled to speak, steadying himself before softly responding: “Back then… I worked hard for you. Did you feel moved?”
“I don’t want to play riddles anymore,” Ye Liuchun interrupted, her voice trembling. “I told myself that if you called me ‘Little Leaf’ just once, I’d ask this question. But you never did, not until today. Even if you pity me, drop the pretense and give me one honest answer.”
“No.”
Bai Shating answered quickly, without hesitation.
Speaking slowly would reveal cracks, and she was too clever—more perceptive about him than he was himself. One slip, and she’d uncover his true feelings, ruining everything.
“I never regretted it.”
“Don’t you already know? Given your status, marrying me was impossible. My efforts were the best I could offer. But you? You never spared me a thought, naively dreaming of impossibilities. Did you ever consider my position? Why should I regret it?”
Ye Liuchun had never heard more hurtful words, nor imagined Bai Shating capable of saying them.
She stared at him, tears spilling uncontrollably.
It was worse than she had feared.
Bai Shating avoided her gaze, head bowed, forcing himself to finish: “When you left Jinling, did you think I’d regret it someday? If you weren’t moved, why should I regret it? I’ve met so many women since then. Those youthful feelings mean nothing…”
“So you came to me,” Ye Liuchun clutched the cold bars, dizzy and disoriented, “not because you regretted it, but because you wanted…”
“Yes,” Bai Shating admitted bluntly. “I wanted revenge. I wanted to see if you still harbored feelings for me, unable to let go. So many have loved me, but only you betrayed me, Liuchun… Shouldn’t you feel honored?”
Ye Liuchun reached through the bars to grab his hand, but he instinctively pulled away, avoiding her touch.
“I just wanted one honest word from you!”
“That was the truth!”
A heavy silence fell between them.
After what felt like eternity, Ye Liuchun let out a faint laugh.
“You should have said these things the first time you came to me. If you had, wouldn’t you have delighted in seeing me lose composure, heartbroken, and banishing you from my life?”
“You would have been so pleased with yourself. Knowing how lowly I am, I never dared ask for anything. Why bother writing a poem to insult me? These days, I kept deceiving myself, thinking it was my fault, that I misunderstood you. Turns out… you’re crueler than I imagined.”
Her eyes burned with hatred, but no more tears fell. From her sleeve, she retrieved the lover’s knot she had carried for so long.
Worn smooth from constant handling, it remained intact, carefully preserved.
Clutching it tightly, she spoke, enunciating each word: “I’ll ask one last time—are these your true feelings? No deception? If you confirm it, even if it’s a lie, I’ll believe it.”
Bai Shating gritted his teeth: “Yes.”
So be it. Hating him and watching him die would be a kindness. Countless nights, he’d heard her murmur in her sleep about refusing to let her lover see her aged reflection in the mirror.
From the moment he met her, she had always been pure and passionate. Perhaps even she didn’t realize her self-destructive tendencies.
Love demanded depth, passion required intensity. Compromise and sharing were unacceptable; otherwise, she’d rather sever ties entirely.
If he didn’t accept this, could she survive his death?
Bai Shating bowed his head, feeling a sharp stab of pain sharper than any beating or whipping.
Before he could react, Ye Liuchun stood up.
She tossed the lover’s knot lightly, letting it land before him.
“…Here. It’s yours.”
“You can rest assured. After you die, I won’t shed a single tear. In my next life, I’ll pray never to meet you again.”
Only after her footsteps faded completely did Bai Shating snap out of his stunned silence. Slowly, he picked up the returned lover’s knot.
Pressing it to his chest, he tried to cry but couldn’t make a sound.
Half a month ago, drunk with Bai Ying, he had finally resolved to start anew with her. He took the exams, bought a house, and happily informed the servants that soon after receiving his official post, he’d bring home a mistress.
He was supposed to have the purest love.
Like the tales of lovesick men and women throughout history, he should have lived harmoniously with his beloved, sweet and peaceful, just like their days in the Jinling outer residence.
But his hesitation, doubt, and unyielding pride cost him everything in an instant.
He remembered returning to the Jinling residence, battered and stumbling to the backyard. The plum blossom scent had faded, the flower windows left open, wind blowing through.
Cold, silent, empty.
The young maiden’s hand had caressed the young man’s cheek, and then they grew up, parted for years. Tales of talented scholars and beauties were too common, too cliché—either separation or death.
But he hadn’t expected to survive.
Just three or four days later, He San, the Ministry of Justice official who had cared for him, personally released him from prison.
Bai Shating thought he was there to escort him to his execution, but instead, He San led him through the labyrinthine inner prison to two armed guards in the rear hall.
Confused, Bai Shating asked: “Young Master He…”
He San cleared his throat and solemnly announced: “By the Crown Prince’s decree, those implicated in the Spring Bright Poetry Case have offended the court. However, His Highness does not wish to spill scholars’ blood. Thus, leniency is granted: exile to Lingnan, never to return to the capital.”
Finishing, he looked at Bai Shating with complex emotions: “Master Bai, express your gratitude.”
Alone, Bai Shating asked incredulously: “He… isn’t killing me?”
He San shook his head, signaling the guards to withdraw.
Once they were alone, He San retrieved a floral note from his sleeve: “As you instructed, I visited Spring Maiden. She left this letter for you upon your release.”
A sudden wave of unease washed over Bai Shating.
He hastily unfolded the note, choking as a surge of blood rose in his throat, as if an invisible hand were strangling him.
“If you remain perpetually destitute, don’t blame me for leaving… Next year, when flowers bloom, my moon will be full.”
He San pitied him, explaining gently: “Spring Maiden is a courtesan. Entering the Prince’s household as a concubine, with the Emperor gravely ill and the Crown Prince overseeing affairs, she may ascend to become an imperial consort once he ascends the throne… This is human nature, sir. There’s no need for further sorrow.”
“Concubine?”
With her temperament, how could she willingly become someone’s concubine?
Even if it were royalty!
Realizing the implications, Bai Shating repeated the word numbly, laughing bitterly.
His laughter grew louder, more desperate: “Hahaha… Bai Thirteen, Bai Thirteen… So I’m truly the most heartless person in the world!”
Puzzled, He San watched as Bai Shating suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood.
“Master Thirteen!”
The blood splattered on the screen in the rear hall, forever vacant since Zhou Tan’s departure, spreading like crimson plum blossoms in the snow—beautiful yet nauseating.
________________________________________
When Ye Liuchun saw Bai Shating again, the dynasty had changed hands.
Qu You had escaped the palace, insisting Ye Liuchun join her. But Ye Liuchun’s heart was dead; she no longer cared where she ended up.
Song Shiyuan, long suppressed, revealed his true nature once she entered his household—a torrent of unchecked desires.
Fortunately, she wasn’t a rigid, virtuous woman bound by scholars’ ideals of integrity and honor. If it made her life easier, she didn’t mind groveling or compromising to please Song Shiyuan.
The Crown Prince forced her to play the lute on his bed, the room thick with heavy incense.
Cupping her chin, he examined her like an object.
“Liuchun, do you know why I insisted on bringing you into the household?”
Half-dazed, she heard him ask.
“I’ve known you for a long time. They say courtesans are heartless, but you, Liuchun, are too soft-hearted… Even as Bianjing’s top entertainer, you could show such expressions while idly listening to music by the window.”
It took her a while to recall: he referred to the day she first heard Bai Shating’s song at Fanlou.
Song Shiyuan enjoyed observing subtle expressions on women’s faces. Once, he had told her that his interest in Qu You stemmed from their first meeting.
That day, she had invited the Crown Prince to listen to her music at Fanlou. When the incident occurred, blood soaked the stage, but he showed no emotion, instead noticing Qu You across the building.
A tear of compassion slipped unconsciously from her eye, moving him deeply.
Just as then, distracted, she had played two wrong notes, unaware of Song Shiyuan scrutinizing her, clearly seeing her fleeting sorrow.
“They say Grandfather was deeply attached to Consort Zhao, but I’ve never seen it. Father was a libertine, clueless about love. I don’t understand it either. That’s why I adore stories of lovers torn apart.”
Pulling her close, he smiled: “Now it seems your Thirteen is nothing special, nor are you. These emotions are useless, Liuchun. Let them go. Once I ascend the throne, I’ll grant you a proper title.”
Ye Liuchun obediently nodded, hugging him tightly.
Inside, she felt disgust mingled with pity.
Song Shiyuan likely had never been truly loved. How could he understand… these emotions ran far deeper than surface appearances.
Even the subtlest expressions couldn’t fully capture the complexities of human attachment.
Qu You failed to escape the capital. Before reaching Lin’an, Ye Liuchun anxiously debated with Zhou Yang several times, urging him to trade her for Qu You’s freedom.
But it was childish thinking—Song Shiyuan’s interest in Qu You far exceeded his interest in her. She knew this well. Grateful to Zhou Tan for saving her life and cherishing Qu You as a close friend, she felt helpless, more tormented than death.
Fortunately, in Lin’an, she reunited with Gao Yunyue, who had survived.
Gao Yunyue had been dazed since her family’s downfall. Ye Liuchun cared for her daily, treating her scars, learning business together, and seeking new hope.
After Song Shixuan ascended the throne, she and Gao Yunyue returned to Bianjing, temporarily residing in Ai Disheng’s territory.
Summoned back to court, Bai Shating rushed to her pavilion.
Unwilling to descend, she sent Gao Yunyue to dismiss him, but Bai Shating refused to leave until she reluctantly appeared.
“I thought—”
Ye Liuchun gazed at him calmly, surprised to find that the sudden disappearance of those intense emotions wasn’t as unbearable as she’d imagined.
“I thought we had nothing left to say.”
“How could that be?”
Bai Shating had grown gaunt; his once radiant face now pale and weary. Yet he still held his “Thousand Years of Romance” fan, his eyes bright, as if nothing had happened.
Avoiding his bait, Ye Liuchun calmly asked: “Why are you here today?”
“To propose marriage.” Bai Shating responded coolly, tapping his fan against his arm. Servants carrying chests emerged behind him like magic. “I’ve prepared the betrothal gifts and marriage papers. If you agree, tomorrow I’ll petition the Emperor for a decree.”
“Master Bai,” Ye Liuchun pressed her temples, nearly laughing at his audacity, “Are you pitying me? I don’t think I deserve pity. Every choice was mine, including…”
She paused, not continuing: “It was my decision to save Miss Gao. The Crown Prince wanted me. The Spring Bright Poetry Case… You were implicated because of me. I saved you because I didn’t want to owe you. You don’t need to feel guilty.”
Bai Shating listened, his expression unchanged, not even a flicker of his eyebrows.
“I know,” he said softly. “I’m proposing because I like you.”
Ye Liuchun froze, quickly retorting: “Master Bai, your ‘liking’… Every woman on the Bian River has heard of it. You probably can’t even distinguish…”
“I can tell!”
“We’ve reached this point. There’s no turning back.”
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