CXD - 58

Jiang Zhiyi’s next retort froze on her lips as she stared blankly at Yuan Ce, blinking slowly twice.

The man, who usually exuded a calm and steady presence thanks to his martial arts training, now had a chest that rose and fell slightly. His jaw was clenched tight, and his entire body resembled a bow stretched to its limit.

After a long pause, Jiang Zhiyi stammered: “You... you’re being absurd... Who would confine the person they like as if she were a prisoner, even threatening to bind her hands and feet?”

“I would.”

…Absurd, yet spoken with unwavering confidence.

What he said wasn’t much different from the bandits in romance novels who abducted women to be their mountain fortresses’ mistresses.

Jiang Zhiyi looked at him incredulously, meeting his unblinking gaze. Her eyes flickered slightly as she slowly averted her gaze. “...It’s like a scholar meeting a soldier—reason just can’t prevail. Jingzhe, Guyu, let’s go!”

With a light wave of her hand, she led her maids out of the teahouse.

Yuan Ce was left alone in the private room, his throat dry. After a long silence, he picked up Jiang Zhiyi’s teacup and drained it in one gulp.

Back at the Shen residence, Jiang Zhiyi paced anxiously within her quarters.

Heaven had finally sent Pei Zisong—a figure of sufficient importance who hadn’t arrived on official duty, so his movements hadn’t been anticipated. If even Pei Zisong couldn’t help her, her freedom seemed hopeless.

Her two maids whispered worriedly beside her.

Guyu: “Sister Jingzhe, surely General Shen won’t dare intercept a letter bearing Chancellor Pei’s name, will he?”

Jingzhe shook her head. “He shouldn’t. The princess left room for politeness, only stating she wanted to return to the capital to dissolve the engagement due to disagreements. If General Shen made a big fuss over such a letter, it might expose ulterior motives regarding this marriage, which wouldn’t be in his favor…”

Even so, the three of them were restless with anxiety.

As dusk approached and lamps were lit, faint strains of a zither melody drifted into their ears.

Jiang Zhiyi, exhausted from pacing, had just sat down on a chaise lounge to rest when she abruptly stood up. She instructed her maids to open the doors and windows, leaning out to listen carefully—it was unmistakably “Yu Boya Mourns Zhong Ziqi.” It seemed to be coming from the direction of the rear courtyard of the Shen residence.

Without hesitation, Jiang Zhiyi rushed toward the back gate. Near the entrance, she collided unexpectedly with a pair of black leather boots.

Looking up, she saw Yuan Ce, who had also followed the sound.

Their gazes met—one anxious, the other dark—clashing like lightning in the air. In an instant, Jiang Zhiyi lifted her skirt and sprinted toward the back gate.

Yuan Ce took large strides, catching up to her in just a few steps.

Hearing the person behind her not even running, yet advancing three steps for every one of hers, Jiang Zhiyi stumbled in frustration, tripping on the steps.

Just as Yuan Ce passed her, his brow twitched. He turned back and caught her before she fell.

Jiang Zhiyi clung tightly to his forearm, her heart still racing as she looked up at him. “...I’m just a frail woman. Winning against me like this isn’t honorable.”

Yuan Ce narrowed his eyes. “A frail woman who knows how to communicate through music? You’re quite capable.”

“...”

Jiang Zhiyi shot back indignantly: “If you hadn’t refused to play with me back then and insisted on pairing me with Pei Zisong, none of this would have happened. You brought this upon yourself—don’t blame others!”

“...”

They glared at each other for a moment, then both turned their heads away.

As the piece ended and began again, Jiang Zhiyi grew increasingly anxious. Clearing her throat lightly, she said: “Stalemate is useless. Let me catch my breath, and then we’ll race. Whoever is faster wins by skill.”

…As if anyone was competing with her. If he hadn’t stopped to help her, he’d already be through all eight gates.

Yuan Ce waited patiently where he stood, leaving his arm for her to lean on and regain her strength.

After catching her breath while leaning on him, Jiang Zhiyi suddenly pushed his arm away, quickly climbed the steps, unlatched the door, and rushed outside.

Yuan Ce: “...”

Yuan Ce looked down at his arm, which had been pushed away, and followed her with a wry smile, stepping over the threshold.

Once past the threshold, both of them came to an abrupt halt.

There was no sign of Pei Zisong outside. Instead, a female musician sat playing a seven-stringed zither in front of the mansion gate.

Seeing the young man and woman rushing out like they were at a bustling market, the musician paused her plucking, looking up at Yuan Ce, then at Jiang Zhiyi. Rising with her instrument in hand, she bowed to Jiang Zhiyi: “Miss, a young master asked me to convey a message. He says he hasn’t let you down and asks you to wait calmly for good news.”

Relieved, Jiang Zhiyi sighed and thanked the musician with a smile. Glancing aside, she noticed Yuan Ce turning his head away, seemingly uninterested in the message—

Of course, Yuan Ce must already know about Pei Zisong’s letter being sent. Perhaps he felt it was pointless since he hadn’t caught Pei Zisong and had just heard some empty words, making their race futile.

But why had he reacted so strongly at the teahouse earlier, only to do nothing afterward?

As if reading her thoughts, Yuan Ce chuckled softly: “Until the engagement is officially dissolved, you are still my fiancée. You can write letters to Lord Yong’en, but so can I.”

It seemed he had weighed the situation, realizing that intercepting Chancellor Pei’s letter would only raise suspicion. His calculations had clearly led him here.

“Twist the facts however you like. Can my uncle really trust you over me?” Jiang Zhiyi sneered, pointing to the darkening sky. “It’s getting late. Hurry back and write your letter. Not long from now—ex-fiancé.”

“...”

“No, no, no, how could we use such a distant title as ‘To Lord Yong’en Personally’?” Fifteen minutes later, in the main study, Mu Xinhong stood bent over the desk, advising Yuan Ce.

“Then what should we write?”

“In situations like this, when a daughter-in-law wants to return to her parents’ home and needs to please her father-in-law, we usually write—’To Father-in-Law, Personally.’“

“...”

“Think flexibly. Write this instead—’To My Esteemed Uncle-in-Law.’“

Seeing Yuan Ce hesitate to put pen to paper, Mu Xinhong spoke earnestly: “General, you must understand the situation. The letter from the young mistress was written by Master Pei. When Lord Yong’en receives it, what do you think he will assume? He’ll likely think you tried to stop her from writing. If you don’t write something conciliatory, how will you get through this?”

Yuan Ce exhaled deeply and finally began to write.

Mu Xinhong watched with satisfaction as Yuan Ce carefully penned each stroke, continuing to ramble beside him: “Furthermore, in my opinion, the young mistress had the chance today but didn’t expose your secret. This shows she truly cares deeply for your brother. Even after all you’ve done, she doesn’t wish misfortune upon the Shen family—”

Yuan Ce paused his brush: “Do I need you to explain this to me? Say something useful.”

“Listen further,” Mu Xinhong urged. “If the young mistress has such consideration, what does that tell us about her character?”

Yuan Ce closed his eyes briefly, regaining composure. “Someone deeply devoted to my brother.”

“…Forgive me, General, but why do you always go in circles when you’re jealous? Clearly, this shows the young mistress is kind-hearted and soft-hearted.”

“So what?” Yuan Ce glanced up at him coldly. “She’s not like that with me.”

“My lord,” Mu Xinhong sighed, “a person with a sharp tongue but a soft heart will always respond better to gentleness than force. Take my wife, for example. Whenever I argue with her, she gets so worked up she grabs a kitchen knife. But if I kneel and act pitiful, she softens immediately. So instead of using force, why not try being gentle? To speak bluntly, act like an abandoned dog and appeal to her pity…”

Yuan Ce frowned. “I can’t do that.”

Thinking of Pei Zisong’s promise of “good news,” Jiang Zhiyi slept soundly that night—the first good sleep she’d had since recovering her memories. The next morning, she even ate half a bowl more of porridge than usual.

Jingzhe, seeing how thin she had become these past days, was relieved to see her eating again. After breakfast, she shared some good news: “Princess, it seems General Shen believes you won’t reveal his secret. This morning, I noticed that more than half the guards in our courtyard have been withdrawn, leaving only a normal number. And that young man, Sanqi, brought you a Pekingese dog, saying he heard you kept a cat in Chang’an, but it couldn’t come on this trip. He sent the dog to keep you company.”

As she spoke, Guyu entered, holding a small, fluffy white Pekingese with shiny fur: “Princess, look how adorable this dog is. They say it was specially bathed before being brought to you—it’s very clean. Would you like to hold it?”

Jiang Zhiyi glanced up, snorting lightly: “He’s probably busy slandering me in the letter to my uncle. What’s this dog—a bribe to keep me quiet? Besides, knowing I keep a cat, why send a dog? Take it away.”

A pitiful whimper sounded, as if the dog understood it wasn’t welcome. The Pekingese turned its sorrowful face toward Guyu.

Guyu gently stroked the little dog, hesitating reluctantly.

Jingzhe signaled for her to take it away.

The two had thought that, given how bored the princess was, even a gift from the “enemy” might amuse her. But if she disliked it, keeping it would only irritate her further. Better to return it.

Guyu: “But Sanqi has already left. Where should I take the dog?”

Jingzhe: “Let it stay in the courtyard for now. Send a message for someone to come fetch it later. Just make sure it stays out of the princess’s sight.”

Guyu nodded and took the dog outside. Unexpectedly, though it was now out of sight, its whimpers could still be heard throughout the morning, echoing pitifully in the courtyard. Seeing Jiang Zhiyi’s growing irritation and no one coming to retrieve the dog, Guyu reluctantly decided to take it outside the estate.

With the noise gone, Yuan Ce was absent during the day, and after Jiang Zhiyi finished her afternoon nap, the maids coaxed her into the garden to enjoy the March sun.

Unfortunately, the weather turned sour halfway through their stroll. Dark clouds gathered, signaling rain. Jingzhe and Guyu hurried Jiang Zhiyi back inside just before the rain began.

The rain came down hard, accompanied by spring thunder. As soon as it grew dark, Jingzhe busied herself lighting the gilded lamps in the room, illuminating both the inner and outer chambers brightly.

Guyu helped, marveling: “Why light so many lamps?”

“The princess is afraid of thunder. Luckily, we have these lamps; otherwise, we’d have to fetch candles.”

As they spoke, they turned to see Jiang Zhiyi leaning listlessly against the chaise lounge, her eyes lowered, lost in thought.

Jingzhe: “Princess, are you still afraid?”

Guyu pulled Jingzhe aside, whispering: “Sister Jingzhe, you may not know, but the last time there was thunder, General Shen carried the princess over the mountains to the inn. She’s probably remembering that now. Let’s not disturb her.”

Jingzhe frowned, then returned to lighting the candles.

At that moment, a familiar whimper sounded from outside: “Whimper…”

Jiang Zhiyi snapped out of her thoughts, blinking in confusion: “Did I hear wrong? Didn’t you say the dog was taken out of the courtyard? Why is it still whimpering?”

“I did take it out…” Guyu was puzzled too and quickly opened the window to look.

There, in the open courtyard, sat the little Pekingese, drenched and shivering in the rain. Despite the covered walkway nearby, the silly dog hadn’t moved an inch.

Guyu hurried to inform Jiang Zhiyi.

Jiang Zhiyi rose, walked to the window, and frowned: “Didn’t I say to have someone come fetch it? Why hasn’t it been taken yet?”

Guyu hesitated, her heart tugging: “Princess, it’s pitiful to send the dog back after it was brought here. Can we at least let it come in to avoid the rain? After all, the dog is innocent.”

Jiang Zhiyi waved dismissively, signaling her to proceed.

In the courtyard, Yuan Ce had just stepped inside when he saw Guyu retrieving the dog.

Mu Xinhong held an umbrella over him: “General, didn’t I tell you this dog would win the princess’s favor within a day? The young mistress’s soft-hearted nature—even the dog understands it. Why don’t you?”

Yuan Ce’s face darkened as he turned his head slightly, giving Mu Xinhong a cold glance.

Mu Xinhong flinched: “My apologies for speaking out of turn. I’ll go receive punishment with two military lashes. You can keep the umbrella—”

“What’s the point of keeping it?” Yuan Ce interrupted icily.

“Huh?”

Yuan Ce exhaled deeply: “Move your obstructive umbrella.”

Realizing what Yuan Ce intended, Mu Xinhong quickly moved the umbrella aside.

But instead of the expected torrential rain, only a few sparse drops fell. Moments later, even those stopped.

The two looked up—

The rain had stopped.

“...”

Watching the clouds disperse and the calm sky return, Mu Xinhong chuckled nervously: “General, in warfare, timing, terrain, and morale are crucial. Tonight, the weather wasn’t favorable… But there’s always next time! Now that we know the trick, success is inevitable!”

“If I were fighting, unfavorable weather wouldn’t stop me.”

“You fight differently in the rain, without rain, or even against the wind. But how can you force rain when there isn’t any? You can’t ask the heavens for another storm…”

“Go fetch a bucket of water.”

“...”

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, after the two maids dried the Pekingese with a woolen blanket, Jiang Zhiyi saw the dog looking up at her pitifully, whimpering softly. She bent down, picked it up, and sighed: “You poor thing, ending up with such a heartless master who abandons you after sending you here. Next time you see him, bite him, alright?”

The Pekingese’s damp fur curled, revealing its pink belly. It whimpered and nestled into her arms, whether understanding or not.

…Never mind. This dog is too small to bite through ten loops of cloth like that brute.

Just then, two knocks sounded at the door.

The two maids, busy tidying up, looked up to see the tall figure standing at the door. They turned to Jiang Zhiyi for instruction.

“Open the door. Let him take the dog back,” Jiang Zhiyi gestured with her chin.

Guyu stepped forward and pulled the door open.

Jiang Zhiyi raised her eyes to speak—

And saw the second drenched figure of the night, head steaming faintly with either cold or heat, standing like a drowned dog.

“...”