Chapter 53: A Splendid Bride, Alone in Sorrow

“This child cannot be kept…” The words fell like an irreversible curse, casting all into the endless cycle of fate in an instant.

“My lord.” By the wavering candlelight, Chu Xiu strained to see Yun Ci’s expression. But she failed. When tears brim in the eyes, the sight blurs with their shimmering veil.

Through the haze, she could only make out the figure in white, head bowed, voice low and somber, his hand clenching a glass cup: “This child cannot be kept. Now… is not the time.”

Not the time…

Yes! The new wife has yet to enter the household—at such a juncture, there cannot possibly be a child. Least of all, a child without name or rightful status. Chu Xiu understood in an instant and turned away. “I understand.”

Three words—a single thorn—pierced them both with unbearable pain.

Yun Ci was silent for a long moment, unwilling to raise his eyes to meet Chu Xiu’s, lest her falling tears force him to surrender first. He was already forcing himself to accept this; if he softened now, regardless of the child’s gender, it would only lead to another life of agony, worse than death, from the poison carried from the womb.

The poison inherited from birth could never be entirely purged, no matter the effort. The fortunate would be weak and perpetually medicated; the less so would die young.

He, as the legitimate heir of the Yun clan, had suffered the agony of this poison yet was treated with the finest medicine. But the child in Chu Xiu’s womb was neither legitimate nor even a recognized concubine’s child. Even if born, he could shelter them for a while, but never for a lifetime. And should disaster strike… mother and child left behind would face even greater hardships.

Better to sever the cause now than to be devastated in the future.

“Chu Xiu,” Yun Ci finally spoke honestly, “do you recall your bouts of coughing blood?”

“Coughing blood?” Chu Xiu remembered. There were indeed two instances, both several months ago—wasn’t it just congested blood in the throat?

“That day, Physician Qu deceived you… You were poisoned… during our intimacy.” Guilt flickered in Yun Ci’s eyes. “I want this child more than anyone… But he is fated to be born with poison in his veins, perhaps crippled as I am, for life.”

“Poisoned?” Chu Xiu was incredulous. “You mean… you too were poisoned?”

“Yes.” Yun Ci did not deny it. “Fourth Madam has already made the antidote. It must be taken with wine. Earlier, I mixed it in your drink and coaxed you to finish it.”

So that was why he’d suggested a drink together.

Hope tentatively kindled in Chu Xiu’s heart as she instinctively shielded her belly with her hands. “Since I’ve taken the antidote, does that mean the child also…”

“No!” Yun Ci, understanding her thought, immediately interrupted. “You are three months pregnant—the poison is already fused with the child’s bones and blood. You can be cured, but the child cannot.”

“My lord…” Chu Xiu was already choking with tears. “How did you become poisoned? Who…”

“This is the burden of the Marquis of Lixin. To possess the wealth and splendor of the world, one must also bear unforeseen dangers.” Yun Ci sighed wistfully.

As much glory as there is, there is as much hardship. The weight of this burden is beyond measure.

Chu Xiu knew there was nothing more she could ask. But to give up this child for it… she did not know if she would ever again have the fortune to bear his child.

She had thought a child would always bind them together. But if she lost this one, and he married another, their bond might never recover. Even if she wished otherwise, how could the new wife tolerate it? And then there was the Dowager Lady…

She did not want to trouble him, nor leave a stain on his lifetime of honor. If she’d never conceived, so be it. But now, to lose the child after carrying it…

“Is there truly no room for reprieve?” It was almost a desperate plea, her last effort to fight for hope, her eyes filled with humble longing. “Even if the child is born crippled, I would care for him all my life.”

“No!” Yun Ci, shocked by her determination, was nonetheless resolute, his face cold. “This child will burden you, and… burden me.” He released the wine cup from his grasp, speaking steadily, “We will have other children. Losing this one is not the end. Besides, now is not the right time.”

The real reason lay in those last four words. The child had simply come at the wrong time.

Chu Xiu gently closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, all traces of tears had vanished, leaving only calm. “I understand.”

For the first time, Yun Ci felt a gulf between their hearts. Yet, who could be blamed? He hadn’t imagined Chu Xiu would risk everything to bear this child.

How could he bear it, how could he be at ease… His mother’s words still echoed in his ears. He feared that even if the child survived, Chu Xiu would not be allowed to raise it herself.

He had once thought a child would be her shield; but now, it would only hasten her doom… To spare her further suffering, he had to harden his heart first.

“Tomorrow, I will bring the medicine myself…” Yun Ci met her clear, glimmering eyes, deliberately ignoring the tear tracks on her cheeks. “Rest well these days; Danxin will look after you.”

Almost fleeing, while he could still control his cruelty, Yun Ci left.

Behind him, the candle burned to ash.

*****

No matter how unbearable, time must pass, and the day must be endured. On the ninth day of the ninth month, the Marquis of Lixin took a new bride.

From dawn, the sound of firecrackers and music outside was unending, painting a picture of bustling celebration. All the servants of Zhiyan Pavilion had been sent away to their duties, leaving the courtyard deserted. Only one woman lay on her bed, staring blankly at the canopy above.

That day’s glorious festivities, so stark against her inner desolation, were something Chu Xiu would never forget her entire life.

The icy emptiness in her womb was a relentless reminder of a life lost, a torment that gnawed at her body and soul day and night.

She could barely recall the process of miscarriage—it had been more than twenty days ago. Yun Ci had been thoughtful, even the bowl of medicine he brought her was sweet and delicious, like broth, caring for her palate to the utmost.

Yet, she would rather have swallowed bitter poison, perhaps then she could claim a reason for her grief, unable to choke it down. Instead, the sweetness forced her to accept it willingly.

She remembered little pain; perhaps the medicine was too expertly prepared. She only recalled sinking into a heavy haze, and when she woke, blood was flowing from her lower body, with only Physician Qu and Danxin at her side. Yun Ci was nowhere to be seen.

There was bitterness in her heart—surely he suffered too. In these days, Yun Ci visited daily, sitting silently by her bed for half an hour each time, but neither spoke a word.

The music and fireworks outside grew even louder, mingled with deafening firecrackers and ever-rising cheers. In contrast, Chu Xiu’s room was dim and unlit, allowing her to see the outside more clearly.

All she could see was red, even the tree branches were draped with red silk, dyeing the night with a flush of crimson—just like the blood when she lost the child.

As she gazed on, Chu Xiu suddenly felt a tightness in her chest and struggled to sit up, reaching for her embroidered shoes. At that moment, the door creaked open, followed by a startled cry:

“Chu Xiu! How can you be out of bed!” Danxin hurriedly set down her basin and rushed to stop her.

“It’s nothing. After more than twenty days lying down, I should take a walk.” Chu Xiu smiled, her gaze drifting to the sea of red outside the window. “Everyone else has gone to see the rare festivities, and only you are left to care for me.”

If she had not spoken, it would have been better; at these words, Danxin’s eyes filled with tears. She paused for a moment, then forced a smile. “There’s nothing to see. With so many people, you wouldn’t see anything anyway. Better to stay here and be at ease.”

Chu Xiu smiled and leaned back on the bed, making no further attempt to rise.

Danxin looked at the bloodless beauty before her, feeling pain at the sight. Chu Xiu’s delicate oval face had grown so thin it was barely the size of a palm, and her once rosy skin was now pale as paper.

“Don’t blame the master,” Danxin blurted out unconsciously. “He’s always been indifferent to women, except for you… Now that the child is lost, he suffers more than anyone.”

Chu Xiu still smiled. “I understand.”

“You do not…” Danxin’s voice trembled with tears. “In the daytime, the master comes to see you and leaves. But you don’t know… Every night, Zhuying wheels him here… Sometimes, he stands outside your door for most of the night, lost in thought, his expression… his expression is simply…”

She could say no more, tears falling freely.

Both were silent, every word choked back. But Zhuying and Danxin, watching day after day, could bear it no longer.

Hearing this, Chu Xiu’s face remained impassive. Instead, she reached to wipe Danxin’s tears. “If I am not crying, why should you?” With that, she gently turned and lay down. “I am a little tired. Let me rest for a while.”

“Sleep then.” Danxin sat at the bedside, watching as Chu Xiu slowly closed her eyes. Who could say how long they sat, one lying, one keeping vigil, until Chu Xiu’s breath grew even and calm. Only then did Danxin sigh almost inaudibly, rise to extinguish the candle, and quietly leave the room.

The door opened and closed again, the sound as cautious as could be. But on the bed, the woman opened her eyes, clear and cold, without a trace of sleepiness.

Chu Xiu stared blankly, the swelling music in her ears a reminder that the wedding had begun. Rising to slip on her embroidered shoes, she longed to find a more secluded place, where she would not hear the endless fireworks, nor the guests’ clamor, nor… the sounds of laughter and joy.

It was, after all, September, and night had fallen. There was a chill outside. Chu Xiu drew her robes tighter and slipped quietly out of Zhiyan Pavilion, not knowing where she was headed—only that she must get far from that place of revelry.

She wandered aimlessly until the world around her grew tranquil, the red silks vanished from the trees, and her heart found a measure of calm.

The evening breeze brought the scent of flowers, tinged faintly with wine, and… a low sigh.

Looking up, Chu Xiu saw, under the pale, yellowed moonlight, a man in a purple brocade robe lounging carelessly on a long stone bench, drinking deeply from a wine flask. His bearing spoke of an unrestrained elegance—and of loneliness.