Chapter 15: Worldly Riches Leave Only Regret

“Why did you play such a sorrowful tune?” Yun Ci had never been one to pry into others’ hearts, and he knew well that to pose such a blunt question was somewhat abrupt. Yet, for reasons he could not fathom, the image of the young woman’s mournful melody from the previous night lingered in his mind and compelled him to ask.

No sooner had the words left his lips than he regretted them. This was hardly in keeping with his usual conduct. With a self-mocking smile, he added, “I was discourteous to ask. You need not answer.”

Han Chu was also taken aback by Yun Ci’s inquiry, but upon reflection, she realized that this man had been of great help to her today. Courtesy demanded reciprocity—it was only reasonable to answer a question in return.

Thus, with a gentle smile, Han Chu wrote on the paper: “Because there is no kindred spirit.”

No kindred spirit? Yun Ci gazed at the blossom-like smile on Han Chu’s face, yet found it both forced and tinged with sorrow. He smiled, his meaning inscrutable, and teased, “It seems your skill with the zither is truly exquisite, Chu Xiu.”

The new name still felt unfamiliar to Han Chu. She looked at Yun Ci with a solemn expression, gesturing with both hands and lips, “You are making fun of me.”

“How could I?” Yun Ci’s lips curved in a faint smile, and he decided it was best to leave the topic be. If he continued, he was not sure what other confidences he might share with this girl he had only met twice.

At that, Yun Ci shifted his focus. He picked up the sheet on which Han Chu had written and, changing the subject, remarked, “Your handwriting is not especially elegant, but there is a certain charm at the close of each stroke. With a bit more practice, you could write quite well.”

As he spoke, he rose from his wheelchair, walked to the bookshelf behind him, and took out a copybook. Handing it to Han Chu, he said, “Women often learn the delicate xiaokai script. When you have free time, copy this model—I'm sure it will help you.”

But Han Chu was no longer listening. She stared at Yun Ci in astonishment, pointing at his legs as if she could not believe he was able to stand.

Yun Ci smiled again at her reaction. “The wheelchair doesn’t mean I cannot walk—my health is simply poor.”

Han Chu realized her misunderstanding, feeling a little abashed. She had assumed that this ethereal young master was disabled, but now she saw that her worries were unfounded. That was a relief.

Seeing her apologetic expression, Yun Ci offered comfort, “No harm done. I would have made the same mistake in your place.” He still held out the copybook. “Take it.”

Han Chu finally recovered herself and quickly wrote, “Why give me a copybook?”

Why indeed? The impulse had come over him suddenly—he had not thought much about it. Perhaps he simply saw promise in the girl’s intelligence.

With that thought, Yun Ci smiled and replied, “Relying on one’s beauty alone can never last. When you marry someday, if you wish to win your husband’s respect, you must have a skill to your name. Reading and practicing calligraphy will never be amiss.”

Relying on beauty alone can never last… Han Chu felt deeply moved. She did not know if Young Master Yun offered such counsel to every servant, but to her, this rare kindness was already precious.

Such a person should never have had to endure illness. Thankfully, it was only a misunderstanding.

Lost in emotion, Han Chu failed to notice Yun Ci’s pallor or that his strength was waning.

Fortunately, it was already late. Yun Ci, seeing Han Chu once again distracted, smiled and said, “It’s time for lunch. Let’s go to the dining hall.”

Han Chu nodded in agreement. Indeed, she realized, she had spent the entire morning conversing with Young Master Yun in the study. And to think, he had not found it tedious to keep company with a mute girl like herself.

“Be sure to tidy up the desk. Don’t forget your prescriptions, copybook, and poetry,” Yun Ci reminded her softly.

Han Chu then recalled the prescription and copybook Yun Ci had given her. She quickly tucked them into her sleeve and checked to make sure nothing was left behind.

“Let’s go,” Yun Ci said, waiting for Han Chu to finish before rising slowly and leading the way out of the study. Han Chu followed at a leisurely pace.

At first, she simply noticed that Yun Ci walked slowly, each step measured and steady. Still caught up in their earlier conversation, she paid little heed. Following behind, she could not see his expression and noticed nothing amiss.

Halfway down the corridor, Yun Ci’s pauses grew longer and his shoulders trembled as though he were struggling for breath. Only then did Han Chu sense something was wrong. She hurried around to face him and saw that his face was ashen, sweat beading on his brow, his expression taut with restraint.

Alarmed, Han Chu reached out to support him. The moment she grasped his arm, she felt his weight collapse into her, nearly toppling her entirely.

Unprepared, Han Chu staggered and fell backward, bringing Yun Ci down with her. Fortunately, they landed in a patch of soft earth near a flowerbed, so the fall was not painful.

Ignoring her own discomfort, Han Chu quickly helped Yun Ci up, her eyes filled with concern for his condition.

“I’m all right,” Yun Ci managed with a strained smile, though he looked even more pallid. Han Chu, frantic with worry and unable to speak, could only curse her own muteness for failing to ask where he hurt.

At that moment, a sharp voice called from nearby, “What are you doing?!”

Han Chu looked up to see a figure in lake-blue and another in pale yellow hurrying toward them—it was Shen Yu and Dan Xin. Both wore anxious expressions, Shen Yu’s demeanor especially cold.

But Han Chu had no time to consider this. She waved at them urgently.

Dan Xin’s brows knitted as she hurried over. Seeing Yun Ci’s state, her anger flared without waiting for an explanation. She scolded Han Chu, “Don’t you know the young master’s health is poor? How could you let him walk so far?”

Her rebuke was harsh, and Han Chu’s heart tightened. But hadn’t Young Master Yun shown that he could walk?

“Han… what are you doing!” Shen Yu, having caught up, started to call Han Chu’s name but changed his tone. He, too, was angry, and quickly helped Yun Ci to his feet, asking anxiously, “Wanzhi, where does it hurt? Do you still have strength in your legs?”

“I’m fine.” Yun Ci leaned against Shen Yu for support, his complexion still poor.

Shen Yu hurriedly produced a vial of medicine, pouring out two pills. Yun Ci swallowed them without hesitation.

Only then did Shen Yu turn to Han Chu, his forehead veined in frustration. He barked, “Why are you just standing there? Go fetch the wheelchair at once!”

Han Chu, startled by his ire, immediately ran back toward the study.

Meanwhile, Yun Ci’s color improved slightly. He frowned at Shen Yu, saying, “Why are you so harsh? She didn’t know—walking was my own decision.”

Shen Yu, caught between guilt and anger, scowled, his chiseled features growing more severe. “Why do you insist on pushing yourself? If I hadn’t brought painkillers, you might have died right here!”

Yun Ci turned his face away, refusing to meet Shen Yu’s guilt and distress. “I stopped the medication myself,” he replied quietly. “I don’t want to depend on a wheelchair or crutches for the rest of my life.”

“Wanzhi…” At these words, Shen Yu nearly wept. Memories of the past surged up, bringing a tide of remorse and pain no one else could fathom.

Shen Yu prided himself on his upright character, his greatest fault being only his wayward romances. In all else, he stood tall in Jingzhou, owed more debts by others than he owed himself.

Yet there was one debt he could never repay. Since the founding of the Great Xi Dynasty, the Marquis of Lixin’s household had enjoyed imperial favor for generations. Even the rulers of both northern and southern realms showed respect to the Lixin Marquisate, and it was he—through a childhood prank—who had destroyed the only legitimate heir.

Each time Shen Yu recalled this, he wished he could have suffered the injury instead. If he could trade his own life to restore Yun Ci’s legs, he would do so without hesitation.

But there was no such “if.”

All he could do was live in pain and guilt, dragging the entire Wen Chang Marquisate into his debt to the Yun family.

How could that ever be repaid? The title “Marquis of Wen Chang” was but a gift from the southern emperor, unrecognized in the north—how could it compare to the Yun family’s centuries-old power and influence, courted by both realms?

In recent years, Shen Yu had sought solace in pleasure and drink, trying to numb himself—at heart, this was the true reason.

What use was the wisdom of famed healers, or painstakingly developed remedies? Shen Yu did not ask for miracles—he only wished he could heal one man’s legs.

But it was only a futile hope.

“Wanzhi…” Shen Yu looked at Yun Ci’s ethereal, coldly beautiful face, unable to utter another word, silenced by his own remorse.

Yun Ci’s expression remained serene, his words light as a breeze, as if discussing nothing more than the weather, betraying no trace of resentment or sorrow.

This only deepened Shen Yu’s guilt.

Dan Xin, who had served Yun Ci since childhood and knew the truth of his affliction, now found her usual sharp tongue gone, replaced by silent tears.

For a moment, the three of them were enveloped in heavy silence. The things they wished neither to recall nor expose hovered at the edge of speech.

Fortunately, Han Chu’s return rescued them. She came rushing up, flustered and anxious, pushing a wheelchair before her. Sweat beaded on her brow, strands of hair tumbled loose, and her hairpin was nowhere to be seen.

Shen Yu had never seen Han Chu so discomposed. He would have felt sorry for her, but when it came to Yun Ci, he always lost his composure. Besides, Han Chu could not entirely escape blame for Yun Ci’s collapse.

Still angry, Shen Yu ignored Han Chu, helping Yun Ci into the wheelchair and saying, “After all this trouble, let’s go have lunch first.” With that, he personally wheeled Yun Ci away.

Dan Xin followed in silence.

Yun Ci glanced back at Han Chu, intending to offer comfort, but feared it would only draw further rebuke from Shen Yu. He said nothing.

Han Chu stood where she was until the three receded into the distance, then turned back the way she had come. Her shoulder throbbed with pain—likely from landing on her fallen hairpin during the earlier fall.

But her guilt outweighed any physical hurt, and she chose to slip away quietly. Thus, she did not see the otherworldly young man glance back from afar and notice the hint of crimson staining her shoulder.