#166: The Shattered Mirror (3)

She struggled to steady herself against the dressing table and rose unsteadily to her feet. By then, he had already entered the room and closed the door behind him. The world seemed to suddenly fall silent, reverting to a familiarity she knew so well. She was no longer conscious of where they were—whether it was the Wei household or some random place—it didn’t matter. As long as they were together, everything felt familiar.

He appeared as though stepping out of her dreams, leaving her momentarily dazed. Since their parting in March, she had only caught a distant glimpse of him in May during the court trial. But even then, she had only seen his back—he never turned around. Strictly speaking, it had been eight months since she last saw him, longer than their previous separation during the northern campaign.

She had so much to say to him, but upon suddenly seeing him now, she found herself at a loss for words. All she could do was tremble uncontrollably, tears spilling from her eyes without her realizing it.

After a long pause, she finally managed to call out to him: “Master…”

Master.

They had spent so much time together, and there had been moments of deep intimacy between them. Compared to such a formal title as “Master,” she could have easily used a more affectionate term—like “Second Brother” or “Jingchen.”

Yet, aside from a few rare instances, she mostly still called him “Master.” This title held an indescribable significance for her, one that she found hard to let go of and impossible to replace.

“Alright, then I’ll go. Thank you, Master.”

“The lantern fell, Master.”

“Didn’t you say you’d take me to the Qi family today, Master?”

“I didn’t skip school… I just heard they said you were leaving Jiankang today, Master.”

“Does Master think… that she bullied me?”

“This cat is precious, and I can’t take care of it properly. I should return it to you, Master.”

“Didn’t you just say you’d help me hold the horse, Master?”

“Have you had lunch, Master? Was it to your liking?”

“Master doesn’t make mistakes—it’s their fault.”

“Is Master embarrassed about spending my money?”

“Master… let’s go back.”

…She had always addressed him as “Master.”

It was both formal and intimate—a single term that encapsulated the five years they had walked together.

He had always understood her deeply. Even though she had simply called him “Master” this time, he could still grasp the weight behind those two words.

The snowflakes on his brows melted into droplets, resembling tears at first glance. But naturally, he would never cry in front of her. Slowly, he approached her, carefully and gently pulling her into his arms, just as he had done countless times before. His embrace was tender, and he whispered into her ear, “Yes, I’m here.”

Shen Xiling instantly burst into tears.

She truly didn’t want to cry, especially knowing that this moment was their final farewell. She shouldn’t waste such precious time shedding tears, but she couldn’t control herself. The moment he pulled her into his arms, she was overwhelmed with an unbearable sense of grievance. She didn’t know exactly what she was grieving over, but… she felt profoundly wronged.

It was just like when she was a child—she could endure until he arrived, and then she could no longer hold back.

She clung to him tightly, sobbing uncontrollably, as if trying to pour out her very soul.

“Why did you come…” Her voice broke with anguish. “I’d rather you never see me again. Why… why did you come…”

Why did you come?

I’ve brought you so much trouble—why are you still here to see me?

Don’t you hate me? Don’t you blame me?

I’d rather you despised me, I’d rather you never wanted to see me again. That way, I’d receive the harshest punishment this world could offer, and I wouldn’t feel so guilty anymore.

Do you know how guilty I feel?

Every single day and night in prison, I kept replaying everything that happened in the court. You were so isolated, and I couldn’t help you at all. I was nothing but a burden to you, even a tool others used to hurt you.

I’m so unlucky, so useless—why have you come to see me?

He gently patted her back, soothing her with gentle reassurances, as if he could hear the cries of her heart. Amidst her endless sobs, he said softly, “I’ve come to see you off and give you a few words of advice.”

His tone was calm, his words ordinary, as if they weren’t facing an eternal farewell but merely a temporary parting—like she was leaving for some business trip, and he was offering her a few small reminders before she left.

Yet, they both knew the truth of their situation. But they also restrained themselves from succumbing to the overwhelming grief. Qi Ying, in particular, did exceptionally well—even his breathing remained steady, as it always had been.

“The road ahead will be difficult, and I won’t be able to take care of you. Remember to stay vigilant in everything you do,” he murmured, gently smoothing her long hair with utmost tenderness. “Gu Juhan is upright and virtuous, truly a gentleman, but don’t trust him completely. Be wary of everyone and protect yourself.”

Shen Xiling’s sobs grew even more sorrowful.

“But don’t be too afraid,” he consoled her by her ear. “Even if I’m not by your side, I’ll still protect you. Everything will be alright.”

He could no longer care for her every detail as he had during the past five years, but even so, he would remain a shield standing before her. He and Gu Juhan were bound together by mutual constraints. As long as he could influence the politics and military affairs of Liang for a single day, Gu Juhan would have to remain cautious of him. The more Gu feared him, the less likely he would dare to cross certain boundaries.

He would hold everything together, ensuring her safety and peace of mind.

The young girl in his arms continued to sob uncontrollably. He sighed, loosened his embrace, and raised his hand to wipe away her tears. At that moment, his phoenix-like eyes even carried a faint smile as he looked at her and said, “Besides, aren’t you very capable? You’ve always complained that I didn’t give you a chance to prove yourself. Now that I have, don’t disappoint me.”

As he spoke, he took a wooden box from his chest and placed it in her hands. His voice lowered further: “I don’t have much else to give you. This contains some farmland and shops near Shangjing. Keep them, and decide how to use them as you see fit.”

The two large sums of wealth Shen Qian had given Qi Ying had already been handed entirely to Gu Juhan. That money couldn’t be withheld—if the amount wasn’t sufficient to move Gu Juhan, then everything that followed would fall apart. In such urgent circumstances, there had been no time to negotiate with Gu. Stability was the priority; there could be no hesitation or compromise.

What Qi Ying now gave Shen Xiling came entirely from his own funds. He had sold off his private assets in Jiangzuo and used the proceeds to secure these properties in Shangjing for her. Having something of her own would at least keep her from being too vulnerable. This young girl tended to carry burdens heavily and grew easily uneasy. He had to leave her with more resources so she wouldn’t be too afraid.

He had quietly planned everything for her long ago.

What does it feel like to grieve to the point of exhaustion? Are there still tears?

Shen Xiling didn’t know. She felt as though she no longer had the strength to cry, nor did she have any energy left to react. Holding the gift he had given her, her eyes were blank, and only one thought lingered in her mind: “…Do you not blame me?”

I caused you so much suffering, and even your family resents you because of me… How can you not blame me?

Upon hearing her question, Qi Ying raised an eyebrow, seemingly puzzled—as if he couldn’t understand why she would think he blamed her after all he had endured because of her.

It took him a moment to realize what she was referring to, and then he sighed deeply, lowering his gaze to look at her. The emotions in his eyes were profound and unfathomable.

He said, “Between us, there’s no need to speak of such things.”

I have already placed you deep within my heart, regarding you as the sole comfort and joy of my life. How could I ever blame you?

Shen Xiling understood what he meant to say. They knew each other so well that even a few words—or just a glance, a breath—was enough to convey everything.

Her heart was deeply shaken, and tears fell again. Trembling, she said to him, “I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry…”

She leaned into his embrace once more, repeatedly expressing her remorse. Qi Ying continued to comfort her, saying, “There’s no need to apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong… It’s me who failed to keep my promises, who let you down.”

Promises.

He was referring to his vow to take her away, to marry her. Yet not only had none of those promises been fulfilled, but he had also forced her to marry a stranger she had only met once. He had given her false hope, only to let her down completely in the end.

In truth, he regretted it now.

He had known from the start how fraught their relationship was. But in the end, his greed and foolish desires clouded his judgment. Arrogantly believing he could control the situation, he became lost in his infatuation with her, narrowing his vision to focus solely on his own plans. He failed to notice that while he was arranging the spring examinations and the northern campaign, danger had already closed in around them.

In truth, he had harmed everyone—it was his fault for not thinking things through.

If he had arranged everything properly or hadn’t succumbed to his desires, perhaps Shen Xiling wouldn’t have suffered as she did. She had once been so eager to leave with him—her eyes had been so bright. But now, they were lifeless.

He had hurt her.

His guilt weighed heavily, and this pain pierced Shen Xiling’s heart. She became agitated, gripping Qi Ying’s sleeve tightly and shouting to refute him: “You’ve never let me down, never wronged me in any way! Everything you’ve given me has been the best—better than anything I could have ever dreamed of. How can you blame yourself?”

Shen Xiling’s heart ached fiercely.

How could he blame himself? He was the one who had suffered the most, who had already exhausted himself caring for everyone—and yet he still blamed himself.

It nearly shattered her heart.

Qi Ying could sense her anguish, so he stopped speaking those words. Instead, he held her tighter, whispering soothingly in her ear: “Then neither of us should apologize anymore, alright?”

Shen Xiling didn’t respond, her tears continuing to flow—not because she felt her own pain, but because she loved this person so deeply that her heart ached with it, and everything felt beyond her control.

She really wanted to save him, to pull him out of the endless fatigue and suffering, and give him the peace and happiness he truly desired.

She had to save him.

At that moment, her heart was shattering into pieces, more fragile than it had ever been. Yet, at the same time, it was slowly piecing itself back together in a completely different way—filled with resentment toward everyone but him, with the deepest self-loathing, and with both cherishing and dismissing everything from the past. It was reshaping itself into an unpredictable form.

Even she didn’t know what it had become.