#184: Change (1)

Late at night, the light in Gu Juhán’s study was still on. He sat alone at his desk, a letter of divorce before him.

She had written it on his behalf.

In truth, even before he sent her up the mountain that day, he had a vague feeling she wouldn’t obediently return after the agreed three hours. She cared so much about him —she would surely cause trouble.

But he never imagined she would go as far as writing a letter of divorce herself and handing it directly to him.

It was long before their agreed-upon time. He had been waiting at the foot of the mountain, dealing with the military officers stationed there, when she suddenly rushed down, her face pale.

Of course, he was worried about her. He couldn’t bear to see her so distressed. He guessed that he must have said something cold to her again, which was why she looked so heartbroken. While he felt concern for her, he also realized—with some shame—that he still hadn’t given up hope of waiting for her.

Yet all he received in the end was a letter of divorce she had written for him.

She said she wouldn’t leave anymore, that she would stay on the mountain with him , even if it cost her life.

She said their marriage had been nothing more than a transaction, but she was grateful for his kindness in marrying her and saving her back then. In return, she would repay him.

She said, “Wenruo, I’m sorry.”

Gu Juhán wasn’t sure what her apology truly meant. Was it simply because she felt she had caused him trouble? Or did she already know that he had harbored feelings for her for many years?

He couldn’t say for certain.

The only thing he was certain of was… she really wouldn’t come back.

That morning, she had left with him. He had personally helped her into the carriage, taking care of her throughout the journey, watching her mix of joy and unease. She had promised to stay only for three hours, to see him once and return quickly.

She had promised.

But she went back on her word, blatantly refusing to honor it. Yet, he found he still couldn’t bring himself to be angry with her.

Not even a little.

He still liked her very much and hoped she would return to this home.

His mother had passed away when he was young, and his father had died five years ago. He was truly alone. Though he had siblings, they weren’t from the same mother. They were close enough, perhaps, but not truly family.

He had considered her part of his family.

He knew she hadn’t completely opened her heart to him, but they had treated each other with respect, like friends or even family. When she was in a good mood, she would even cook for him. He had been fortunate enough to taste her cooking once or twice—it was excellent, leaving a lingering fragrance on the lips and tongue.

When one has something to look forward to, every moment becomes subtly different. These differences might not be visible to outsiders, but you know things have changed. For example, he knew his heart had grown softer since she came into his life. Sometimes, even in the barracks, he would think about returning home early. Even on the battlefield, while fighting for his life, he would remind himself not to die—he still had to return home to tell her he was safe.

Things like that.

Now that she was gone, that sense of anticipation disappeared.

He had actually anticipated this day would come. It was during their most comfortable times together. As a general who led troops into battle, he naturally had the habit of preparing for the worst. Back then, he had felt himself becoming increasingly absorbed in their relationship and realized how precarious it was. Everything he had with her felt borrowed, and one day, he would have to give it back.

For five whole years, he had reminded himself not to be greedy. But when the time for separation finally came, he still felt… heartbroken.

Even the sharpest blade on the battlefield had never wounded him this deeply.

He found it hard to bear.

Yet he still couldn’t stop himself from looking down at the letter of divorce on his desk.

It was said that she had studied literature and calligraphy under him , so her writing was always beautiful. The letter of divorce was no exception—it was perfectly composed, harshly rebuking her for being unfaithful and failing to produce an heir. The words were so cutting that he could barely bring himself to read further.

She had viciously slandered herself just to sever all ties with him and return completely to that person .

What more could he say?

He truly didn’t know.

The night was long, and Gu Juhán wasn’t the only one unable to sleep.

On that desolate, cold mountain, Shen Xiling was also awake, sitting cross-legged outside the dilapidated house.

By April, Shangjing was already quite warm, but the nights were still cool, especially in the mountains where dew made the air chilly. Shen Xiling, with her frail constitution and recent recovery from illness, struggled to endure the cold night wind.

Still, she sat leaning against the ground outside, her beautiful dress soiled by the dirty mud. It was a dress she loved dearly, and she had deliberately dressed up to meet him today, wearing her favorite outfit and applying careful makeup.

Unfortunately, her makeup had been ruined by tears earlier, and now her clothes were dirty, making her appear disheveled.

But none of that stopped her from waiting here for him.

She waited for him to soften, for him to open the door, for him to let her back into his life.

She had already waited for an hour, her hands icy, unsure how much longer she would have to continue like this. This aimless act of waiting didn’t make her feel wronged or sorrowful. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to waiting. She had endured five years—what were a few hours?

Stubbornly, she waited. She didn’t wait for Qi Ying to come and open the door for her but instead for Qingzhu to emerge from the room.

He stood beside her, looking at her with obvious difficulty, which made Shen Xiling smile faintly.

She tilted her face up to him, nodded slightly, and greeted him with, “Long time no see.” Then she asked, “Did he ask you to pass a message to me?”

Five years had passed, and Qingzhu was no longer the youthful boy he once was. He had matured significantly, his features sharper, though he remained slender. His expression toward her had also changed. Shen Xiling remembered that he had disliked her somewhat in the past, often giving her subtle looks of disapproval. But she hadn’t taken it to heart because she knew Qingzhu wasn’t a bad person—he was just strict with others, perhaps influenced by Master Qi.

Now, however, his gaze toward her was gentler, carrying the slight awkwardness and warmth of an old friend reunited after a long time. There was also sympathy in his eyes as he said, “Master Qi told you to leave… Don’t come looking for him again.”

As expected.

Shen Xiling smiled faintly and then lowered her gaze. “Is there nothing new? He’s already said this to me three times today.”

Her tone sounded indifferent, which made Qingzhu rather anxious. His brows furrowed, and he spoke to her urgently, “Just listen to him. Master Qi has made up his mind and won’t change it—don’t you understand him? Master Qi won’t soften.”

Don’t you understand him?

Though Qingzhu’s intention was to persuade Shen Xiling to leave, his words unintentionally strengthened her resolve.

Yes, she understood him best.

That man, though mostly ruthless to others, had never truly been cruel to her—not even when they first met. Back then, when she knelt in the snow outside Fenghe Garden, he had told her to leave, yet he still softened in the end. And later, when their affection deepened, he gave her everything she asked for.

He certainly wouldn’t let her wait forever. He would worry about her catching a cold or falling ill.

Shen Xiling smiled faintly, imperceptibly. Whether it was out of certainty or mocking her own delusional confidence, she couldn’t say.

After a moment’s thought, she said to Qingzhu, “You should go rest… I’ll wait a little longer.”

As if in response to her words, the candlelight inside the room suddenly went out, and the window turned completely dark. It was as if the person inside was telling her: This time, he absolutely wouldn’t soften.

Shen Xiling saw it but acted as if she hadn’t noticed, remaining motionless where she sat.

Qingzhu was at a loss. After waiting for a while longer and seeing that she truly had no intention of leaving, he sighed deeply and left.

The mountain was bathed in moonlight, and the sound of insects chirping filled the night. It was somewhat reminiscent of Qingji Mountain. Shen Xiling remembered how, on sleepless nights, she would wander through the cherry blossom-filled hills behind the house. Back then, too, the moon was bright, and the insects sang, creating a serene and enchanting atmosphere.

It was the same now: there were mountains, a bright moon, and him .

It seemed no different from before.

Shen Xiling rubbed her hands together and blew warm breath into her palms.

Sometimes she was clever, but other times she could be a bit foolish. Take this waiting—for instance, she was being far too patient. She didn’t try to make noise or draw attention to herself, quietly waiting in place without fear that he might mistake her silence for having left.

Eventually, she grew tired from waiting and began to feel drowsy. Leaning against his door, she thought about sleeping for a while. The scene felt vaguely familiar. When she was a child, she had waited like this at the door of Wangshi. It was winter then, and she had fallen asleep. When he returned late and found her, he immediately picked her up and carried her inside, scolding her sternly despite his concern.

It was a beautiful memory. Shen Xiling smiled hazily, her eyes welling up slightly.

She closed her eyes.

She fell asleep.

________________________________________

The next morning, dawn broke, and Gu Jingqi woke up early.

Today, her tutor had requested leave, saying his wife was ill and needed care. For once, she didn’t have to rise early to study and face her teacher’s examinations.

However, the habit of waking early had already taken root, and despite wanting to laze in bed a little longer, she simply couldn’t. Gu Jingqi woke at the fifth watch, grumbling about her “lowly fate,” which amused the maidservants attending her.

Since she was already up, she decided to find some amusement. After some thought, she decided to visit her eldest brother’s residence and see her sister-in-law. Her sister-in-law was kind-hearted—if she persisted a little, she might agree to take her out to play.

Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

With this plan in mind, Gu Jingqi happily ran to her sister-in-law’s courtyard. However, she was stopped at the entrance by Lianzi, who informed her that the lady wasn’t feeling well and hadn’t risen yet.

Upon hearing this, Gu Jingqi’s playful mood vanished entirely. She wanted to check on her sister-in-law to ensure she was alright, but Lianzi blocked her, explaining that the lady needed rest and asked her to visit another day.

Gu Jingqi was considerate and nodded in agreement. As she left, she kept glancing back at her sister-in-law’s quarters, her heart full of concern.

She thought it wasn’t right for her sister-in-law to be unwell while her brother didn’t come to check on her. So she decided to go find her brother.

Before entering her brother’s courtyard, she first spotted Xuchuan leading a suspicious-looking figure into the estate. The person wore a long cloak and appeared rather peculiar. Curious, she hid behind a rockery to observe.

Unexpectedly, the cloaked figure noticed her and turned to glance in her direction. At that moment, a gust of wind lifted the edge of the cloak, revealing the person’s face. Gu Jingqi focused and recognized him—it was Master Qi Yutang’s disciple, Prince Qi Ao!

Ah, no… it was the Crown Prince.