Chapter 154: Mountain Rain (1)

In the days that followed, the Qi family experienced one joy and one sorrow.

The joy came when Chancellor Qi finally awoke.

Throughout his life, the Left Chancellor had weathered countless storms. He had believed that with the family’s current prosperity, he could enjoy a peaceful retirement. But who would have thought that overnight, blessings turned into thunder, and all harmony dissolved into nothingness? Even this master of the Qi family, who had dominated the Liang court for decades, couldn’t bear it. After receiving the emperor’s admonishment, he fell gravely ill.

For nearly a month, he lingered in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. Now, he had finally regained clarity, though his body was much weaker than before, as if most of his vitality had been drained in an instant. His entire presence seemed diminished.

Upon waking, he saw his second son. Instantly, tears welled up in his aged eyes as he reached out to grasp Qi Ying’s hand. With a deep sigh, he said, “It’s good that you’ve returned… Good that you’ve returned…”

Qi Ying consoled his father and spoke about the current situation. However, the chancellor, having endured such calamity, had grown weary. It seemed he no longer wished to meddle in these affairs. Even as his second son spoke, he remained somewhat detached. Eventually, he told Qi Ying to handle everything as he saw fit.

The sorrow came with the passing of Old Madam Qi.

Though advanced in age, her death could not be considered a peaceful one. The sudden calamity had shattered her heart and liver. After meeting with the Empress, she collapsed completely. Bedridden for less than a month, she ultimately succumbed, leaving this world behind.

In her final days, the old lady often muttered incoherently, mostly cursing her maternal family for being cold-hearted and unfeeling. At times, she berated herself for being senile and inviting disaster. As she cursed, she would cry, and even the medicine she took would be vomited back up. The many physicians attending her were at a loss, diagnosing her with a malady of the heart—untreatable by any drug.

The Qi family had long seen that the matriarch’s days were numbered, but when she passed away on the ninth night of the third month, they could not help but grieve deeply. The entire family wept bitterly by her bedside. It seemed even Heaven was moved; that night, torrential rain poured down, and the sound of wind and rain unsettled everyone’s hearts. It felt like an ominous omen, subtly warning the family that more misfortunes were yet to come.

On such a stormy night, Qi Ying found himself missing Shen Xiling intensely.

He remembered that around this time last year, Jiankang City had also been hit by heavy rain. It was shortly after her coming-of-age ceremony. He had upset her then, and later, she had gone to the southeastern estate to meet Shen Cheng, who went by the alias Yang Dong, regarding business matters. That day too, it had rained heavily.

It was also on that day that they confessed their love to each other. She clung tightly to him, and he silently vowed to cherish her for life.

This night was so similar to that of last year—the same heavy rain, the same dark night, the same weight pressing on his heart. The only difference was… she wasn’t by his side.

And how he missed her.

He never knew he could miss someone so much that the depths of his usually calm and still heart became restless, more so than during the Northern Campaign.

He knew he shouldn’t let his mind wander to thoughts of her now. There were so many things to do. Besides, with his grandmother’s passing, the family had to prepare for her funeral. Both his mother and eldest sister-in-law were emotionally drained, and everything required his personal attention. No one could share his burden; he had no time to spare.

Yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Over and over, he thought of her. The lonelier and heavier his burdens became, the more he thought of her. And whenever he thought of her, the cracks in his heart would briefly mend, granting him fleeting peace.

After being stripped of his authority by the new emperor, he lost control over the Privy Council . He knew that the sharp blade he once wielded had now turned into a weapon poised against the Qi family. The sharper he had honed it, the tighter it now bound him—he knew that the main house was already under covert surveillance by the Privy Council . The people within this mansion were like caged birds, unable to move freely.

Yet, he still yearned to visit Fengheyuan.

To see her.

Even seeing her just once would ease his heart greatly and relieve the suffocating pressure he felt now.

He truly needed to catch his breath.

He wanted to see her.

The passing of Old Madam Qi was naturally a significant event for the Qi family. A few days prior, news had reached the collateral branches, and despite the pouring rain that night, most of the clansmen had arrived to bid farewell to the matriarch.

The last time the main house had been so bustling was during the Lunar New Year. Back then, lanterns illuminated the red gates, children laughed, and the family thrived. Who could have imagined that barely three months later, the scene would turn so bleak? It felt as if they were living through two separate lifetimes.

Everyone’s hearts were weighed down, and even the children refrained from laughter, heads bowed as they cautiously followed their elders. All were walking on eggshells.

Amidst the rain, the servants of the main house carried the coffin of Old Madam Qi into the ancestral hall of the Qi family. Meanwhile, the abbot of Ding Mountain Temple, who had been invited beforehand, recited sutras and prayed for her soul. The atmosphere inside the ancestral hall was solemn, and the chanting continued for half the night until midnight when everyone finally dispersed.

But Qi Ying stayed behind.

If truth be told, he had never been particularly close to his grandmother—not because she didn’t love him, but perhaps their bond had always been shallow. As he grew busier with official duties after entering court, he saw her even less.

Still, tonight, with her passing, he felt a profound grief. This oppressive feeling intensified his longing for Shen Xiling.

He knew he couldn’t leave; he had to stay at the main house. His clansmen were on the verge of collapse, and even the children were unusually cautious tonight. He understood that he was their last hope. If he weren’t here, everything would fall apart.

But oh, how much he wanted to see her. Throughout the night, a voice in his heart kept tempting him: Go, just leave. Haven’t you always wanted to take her and go? Everything has its fate—even you cannot save everyone. Why not abandon everything and take her with you? At least then, the two of you might have a happy ending…

Why not indulge yourself this once? Is indulging in selfishness really so wrong?

At first, this voice was faint, and he could pretend not to hear it. But gradually, it grew louder—louder even than the rainstorm raging outside the ancestral hall that night. He wavered greatly, to the point where he had to use the countless ancestral tablets enshrined in the hall to suppress such desires.

These were the ancestors of the Qi family, who had started with nothing and toiled for a hundred years to build this clan. Now, as it teetered on the brink of collapse, how could he possibly stand aside?

Would he sever this bloodline and watch his loved ones descend into an abyss?

Qi Jingchen, is this what you want?

In that moment, Qi Ying’s gaze turned hollow.

Empty, utterly devoid of anything.

He was not a man prone to indecision. On the contrary, he was known for his resourcefulness and decisiveness, especially in front of his family, where he appeared composed and unruffled. Yet, in this empty ancestral hall, his eyes became vacant—as if only in solitude could he reveal such confusion.

And… a trace of weakness.

Those solemn ancestral tablets suddenly seemed to transform into the faces of his forebears, staring down at him with piercing eyes. They extended countless invisible hands, binding him firmly in place, preventing even the slightest movement. At the same time, their voices boomed in unison, sternly commanding him to live and die alongside the family.

Their layered voices were almost deafening, completely drowning out the thin whisper in his heart, silencing it entirely.

And yet…

…he still wanted to see her.

Desperately, he wanted to see her.

Just thinking of her brought a spark of vitality to his otherwise blank eyes, like glimpsing sunlight in the deepest darkness. In that moment, he realized something with absolute clarity: he had to see her, consequences and costs be damned.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love the family that had raised him, nor was it cowardice that made him reluctant to shoulder this immense burden. It was simply… he had his own desires.

He just… wanted to be with her.

Qi Ying quickly turned around and strode toward the entrance of the ancestral hall. Within just a few steps, he thought of many things. He even seemed to see Shen Xiling’s radiant expression upon seeing him, hear her scolding him for not eating on time, and feel the softness of her fair skin beneath his fingertips, leaving behind a faint fragrance…

It all felt so real, endlessly tempting him, pulling him forward faster and faster, leaving the rows of ancestral tablets far behind!

He pushed open the heavy doors of the ancestral hall!

Outside, the storm raged.

But there, standing silently in the rain, was his father—and behind him, countless uncles, cousins, and brothers.

Some he knew well, some he had met only a few times, and others he didn’t recognize at all—there were over a hundred of them.

They were all watching him, drenched by the pouring rain. His father, who had just recovered from illness, was soaked to the bone, yet he still led the clan members standing there, silently waiting outside the ancestral hall for who knows how long.

Qi Ying’s brows furrowed, his mind blanketed by a blinding white light that obscured all thought. For a moment, he couldn’t understand anything. In his confusion, he noticed a sodden letter in his father’s hand.

It took him a while to recognize it as the letter he had entrusted to his eldest brother on New Year’s Eve. In it, he had detailed all his plans.

The white light in his mind grew even brighter, making it impossible for even someone as perceptive as Qi Ying to comprehend why the letter was now in his father’s possession.

After Qi Ning’s incident, Qi Yun, implicated and imprisoned, realized he could no longer protect the family as his younger brother had entrusted him to do. Before being taken away by the Chief Justice, he handed the letter to their father, urging him to find a way to bring Qi Ying back. Upon reading it, Qi Zhang was shocked and intended to personally travel north to retrieve his second son, but he fell ill and was unable to make the journey.

Fortunately, Yao Shi’s letter eventually summoned the younger son home. This was why, after recovering, the chancellor’s first words upon seeing Qi Ying weren’t anything else—they were simply, “It’s good that you’ve returned.”

He had long known of his second son’s intention to leave.

And he also knew that the seed of desire, once planted, could not be easily eradicated—it would take root and grow.

A seed of departure had already taken root in Jingchen’s heart. It wouldn’t wither or die easily. Now, with the Qi family’s survival hanging by a thread, countless lives balancing precariously on the edge, he couldn’t allow his second son to leave.

Not a single step.

But what could he do? Jingchen had grown up, while he himself was aging, becoming increasingly powerless. He knew he couldn’t rely on paternal authority to command or control him. All he could do was…

…beg him.

The rain poured mercilessly, and the night stretched endlessly.

Qi Zhang, along with countless elder clansmen sharing the Qi bloodline, slowly knelt before their son.

A soft thud.

Almost imperceptible amidst the pattering rain.

Yet it struck Qi Ying like a thunderclap, exploding in his ears.

In that instant, he truly understood.

It seemed he was destined never to possess what his heart yearned for.

It was also on that stormy night, amidst the chaos and commotion.

A panicked, dust-covered servant stumbled into the main house, delivering a message to Qingzhu, who served closely by Qi Ying’s side.

Hearing the news, even the usually composed Qingzhu was visibly shaken, his face turning pale. He rushed to the ancestral hall to find his master. Seeing the scene of the chancellor and elder clansmen kneeling on the ground, he didn’t even pause to process the shock. Instead, he hurriedly whispered the servant’s message into his master’s ear.

No one else present knew what Qingzhu had said to Qi Ying. All they could see through the pouring rain was their family’s last pillar of support struck dumb by the news. His expression turned desolate, his eyelids slowly drooping.

Silent and motionless, he seemed to enter a trance-like state, cut off from the world.

The onlookers’ hearts were filled with unease and trepidation. Moments later, he lifted his gaze again. By then, his eyes were sharp and deadly serious, his figure backlit by the endless cold rain, resembling nothing short of…

…a demon from hell.