#164: The Shattered Mirror (1)

This unprecedentedly grueling war dragged on until the eleventh month, during the period of Huangzhong.

The Liang dynasty lost the three northern provinces they had painstakingly gained during their earlier northern campaign. However, they managed to hold the line along the Yangtze River. Both sides clashed repeatedly in the regions around Northern Yangzhou and Western Xuzhou. At one point, Wei forces crossed the natural barrier of the river, but they were eventually driven back to the north bank.

It was as if everything had returned to square one.

It was also in this eleventh month that Shen Xiling was finally released from Shangfang Prison. Around the same time, she learned of her impending marriage to a man from Northern Wei.

The person who came to retrieve her was Qingzhu.

He informed her that she had been pardoned because the emperor intended to reinstate Lord Qi. Therefore, all traces of past grievances had to be erased. Publicly, it was announced that her ordeal had been a fabrication orchestrated by Lu Zheng to frame Qi Ying. The emperor had already stripped Lu Zheng of his position, and a new official now headed the Tingwei Prison.

Now, she would travel to Langya, to the ancestral home of her mother’s family, where she would prepare for her marriage.

Each of these revelations was shocking enough to stagger anyone. Yet, by then, Shen Xiling seemed devoid of emotion. Her half-year confinement in prison appeared to have drained her of all feeling. She only asked Qingzhu two questions:

First, whether Lord Qi was well.

Second, whether he knew about all of this.

Qingzhu nodded to both.

Shen Xiling said nothing more. She did not inquire about whom she was to marry, when the wedding would take place, or why it was happening. Silently, she boarded the carriage heading north with Qingzhu.

She neither cried nor protested.

Seeing her like that, Qingzhu hesitated to speak, feeling as though he might cry himself. But since she shed no tears, his own would seem inappropriate. Moreover, he feared that his crying might trigger her sorrow.

Thus, he held back his tears and escorted her to Langya.

Upon arriving at Langya, the entire Wei family greeted Shen Xiling respectfully at the entrance of their estate.

Rumors had it that they had been “admonished,” forcing them to change their narrative. For instance, they had once confidently claimed that Lady Wei had eloped with Shen Qian. Now, they revised their story, blaming Lu Zheng of the Tingwei for coercing them into spreading such lies. They insisted that while Lady Wei had indeed eloped with a man surnamed Shen, this individual bore no relation to the prominent Shen clan everyone knew of. Under duress, they had falsely accused Shen Xiling of being Shen Qian’s illegitimate child.

Of course, this was merely a fabricated tale meant to deceive the public. The officials of the court, however, were fully aware of the current political landscape. They understood that Young Master Qi’s future remained uncertain—he could either fall irreparably or rise again. Thus, one by one, they adopted a wait-and-see attitude, feigning belief in the emperor’s carefully crafted narrative.

In truth, whether they believed it or not mattered little. This was not something outsiders could question or interfere with. Their only options were silence or compliance.

The Wei family members, who had once been so vicious in the imperial court—like Shen Xiling’s eldest maternal uncle, who had been adamant about exterminating her and Qi Ying—had completely changed their tune after just half a year. Leading the entire Wei clan, he warmly welcomed her into their home, showering her with solicitous care. Even the previously sharp-tongued aunts were unrecognizable, showing none of the cold arrogance they had displayed five years ago when she first arrived in Langya to request their help in burying her mother’s remains.

Life was full of grotesque spectacles; people were like phantoms, pitiful and laughable.

But Shen Xiling bore no grudges. She did not engage in conversation with them, simply settling into her assigned quarters. There, she found everything prepared for her upcoming marriage: jewelry, hairpins, red candles, embroidered fabrics, and even an exquisitely crafted wedding gown.

These items did not seem like things that could be found in Langya—or even in Jiangzuo. When she questioned Qingzhu, she learned that they had been sent by the Duke of Yan’s residence in Northern Wei. They were personally arranged and delivered by General Gu Juhan, the man she was to marry. Only then did she learn the identity of her future husband.

Her reaction was muted—neither joy nor sorrow. She was like a lifeless marionette, an empty shell.

Qingzhu stayed behind for a few days to help Shen Xiling settle in, introducing her to two unfamiliar maidservants who would attend to her until her wedding day. Shen Xiling did not object, but she inquired about the condition of Shuipei and the others who had been imprisoned with her. She wondered whether they were safe and sound.

Qingzhu assured her that they were fine and had already returned to Fenghe Garden. Shen Xiling nodded upon hearing this and said nothing more.

After ensuring everything was in order, Qingzhu prepared to leave. Ten days later, she would be married. General Gu Juhan of Northern Wei would not personally come to Jiangzuo but would instead await her in Dongping Commandery on the northern bank of the Yangtze. On her wedding day, the Wei family would escort her there.

Shen Xiling was exceedingly compliant with all the arrangements, but just as Qingzhu was about to leave, she asked him one final question.

She asked, “Before I go… will I be able to see him one last time?”

At that moment, her complexion was startlingly pale, and her tone carried an emotionless flatness. Yet, her eyes held a deep, concentrated sorrow. Qingzhu’s eyes welled up with tears, and he quickly averted his gaze, replying, “Most likely not—Lord Qi is… very busy.”

He rushed through the words but didn’t dare look at Shen Xiling’s expression. He only heard her emit a faint, empty laugh that made his heart ache even more.

He heard her softly reply, “Alright,” followed by, “From now on, please urge him to rest more.”

Her words carried a sense of finality, as if she already knew she would never see him again.

In the end, Qingzhu couldn’t hold back, and tears spilled from his eyes. In a flustered state, he gave a hasty affirmation and, just before parting, said to her,

“Take care.”

Six days later, Qingzhu returned to the main estate.

Since the troubles that befell the Qi family in March, Lord Qi had not returned to Fenghe Garden. Even after the war ended, he continued to stay at the main residence, leaving the secondary estate perpetually vacant, never to be occupied by its rightful owner.

It once had a mistress, but now she too would never return.

These details were unbearable to dwell on, for they only brought greater sorrow. Especially when Qingzhu recalled Shen Xiling’s final faint laugh as they parted, his heart tightened even more.

Why… did it have to end like this?

He struggled to suppress his grief and hurried into the main estate to report to his lord.

Lord Qi was in Lady Yao’s Jiaxi Hall.

As Qingzhu entered, the hall was filled with laughter and chatter. It turned out that the eldest son’s wife had brought Hui’er and Tai’er to visit Lady Yao. At six months old, Tai’er was irresistibly adorable, delighting everyone present. Meanwhile, Hui’er, still jealous of his younger brother, added to the amusement of the adults.

It seemed as though the Qi household was gradually recovering some semblance of its former harmony and warmth.

The moment Qingzhu entered the hall, his eyes immediately fell upon his master.

Having recently returned from the battlefield, Lord Qi appeared even thinner and more gaunt than before, likely due to the tumultuous and exhausting half-year he had endured. His demeanor had grown even more subdued and somber. Even amidst the joyous atmosphere of the hall, he seemed out of place, merely observing others enjoying themselves without being able to partake.

He looked… lonely.

He noticed Qingzhu and his gaze shifted slightly, as if he already knew what news he brought. After a brief hesitation, he turned to Lady Yao and said, “Mother, I’ll step out for a moment.”

Lady Yao, who had been playing with Tai’er, grew suspicious upon seeing Qingzhu arrive and her son’s intention to excuse himself from the gathering. The shocks of the past six months had left her perpetually on edge, seeing danger in every shadow.

Qi Ying offered her a reassuring smile and said, “It’s nothing,” before rising and leaving the Jiaxi Hall, retreating to his study.

The study was cold and desolate, with only cooled tea and towering stacks of documents. Yet, he seemed more at ease here, as if the earlier merriment of his family had made him feel somewhat constrained.

Perhaps it wasn’t constraint… but rather, the joyful scene reminded him of someone.

Seated behind the desk, he asked Qingzhu, “Has she settled in at the Wei residence?”

“She.”

Once so intimately bound, almost as if their lives were intertwined, now reduced to a single pronoun: “she.”

Was he afraid of the pain?

Qingzhu bowed his head and replied, “Yes,” then proceeded to detail Shen Xiling’s current situation at the Wei residence. Qi Ying listened intently, more focused than he ever was with matters of state.

When Qingzhu finished speaking, Qi Ying remained silent, seemingly lost in thought. After a while, Qingzhu heard his master ask, “…Did she cry?”

Did she cry?

There were so many things demanding his attention, most concerning the survival of the nation and the lives of countless others. Yet at that moment, he thought of nothing else—he only wanted to know if she had cried.

Shen Xiling had not cried. But when Qingzhu was asked, he couldn’t help but break down. Realizing the absurdity of his reaction, he quickly wiped away his tears, shaking his head as he informed his master that Shen Xiling had not cried. She had only asked if she could see him one last time.

Upon hearing this, Qi Ying’s expression betrayed no change; if anything, he appeared even calmer. But those who knew him well understood that this was how he masked his deepest suffering.

He was in pain.

The quieter he became, the greater the anguish.

He said nothing more, as if his interest in the matter had been completely extinguished. With a slight gesture of his hand, he signaled Qingzhu to leave. Understanding, Qingzhu dared not disturb him further and respectfully withdrew.

He knew that what his master needed most at that moment was Shen Xiling—but she was gone. Thus, perhaps all he truly required was silence.

The moment the door shut, Qi Ying began to cough violently. His hand pressed tightly against his stomach, the pain causing his back to hunch. When the fit subsided, fresh blood stained his sleeve.

…He had vomited blood.

He saw the blood but showed no surprise, as if he had grown accustomed to it. The sharp pain in his stomach did not repulse him; instead, it seemed to bring him a strange sense of solace. He needed this pain—desperately.

From day to night, he sat alone in the study.

He… wanted to see her.

Just as he had during every dawn and dusk since their separation in March, he longed to see her.

This desire had been intense and restless in March and April, but over time, it had settled into something quieter yet deeper. Perhaps because he knew his private wish could never come true, he had buried it deeper and deeper within his heart.

Until it became a hidden wound, unseen by anyone.

Nor did he need anyone to see it. Pain was an intimate thing, the last fragile thread connecting them. He had nothing left to give her, save for silently enduring his own suffering alongside hers—that was all.

He knew he couldn’t see her. Lingering ties would only deepen their pain and make their parting even harder. Perhaps the best outcome for them was to never meet again, never to speak of farewell.