Chapter 58: The Cruelty of Love’s Madness

When Chuxiu awoke again, it was already dusk. The evening glow cast a hazy golden light throughout the room, gradually dimming, its fleeting beauty tinged with a sense of lingering regret. The moment she opened her eyes, the brightness dazzled her. She closed them again, gathering herself, and only then saw the person sitting vigil at her bedside.

“Han Chu.” The figure in lake-blue robes was outlined against the faint light by the window. Gone was the rakish charm she remembered, replaced by a newfound solemnity.

“Young Marquis.” Chuxiu tried to sit up, only for Shen Yu to gently press her down.

“You’re not yet through your confinement after childbirth. Why push yourself?” Shen Yu’s words were caught between a sigh and a reprimand, his restraint evident.

Just that one sentence made Chuxiu turn her face away, on the verge of tears. Only now did she finally admit to herself that Yun Ci was right not to want this child.

“Do you still insist on staying now? If you’ve changed your mind, I—”

“Thank you for your kindness.” Chuxiu interrupted him softly before he could finish. “If I were to use this grief to take advantage of you, it would be unfair to you. Besides, this isn’t anyone else’s fault… it isn’t his fault.”

“If it’s not his fault, is it yours?” Shen Yu, clearly aware of what had happened, grew angry again. “So you’re granting him the chance to be devoted to his new wife, but what about you? Did you know that since the moment you fainted, he hasn’t come to see you once?”

“He has his reasons.” Chuxiu defended Yun Ci, closing her eyes again.

“Han Chu, you really…” Shen Yu could scarcely contain his frustration.

How could Chuxiu not know? She managed a faint, bitter smile. “Men and women should keep their distance. Thank you, Young Marquis, for caring for me. Please, send Danxin to me.”

“She can’t come.” Shen Yu’s response was laced with cold sarcasm. “Xia Yanran felt faint from exhaustion today and was short on attendants. Wanzhi took Danxin to serve her instead.”

So the new madam was suffering from dizziness? It was only natural she would need extra care. Yun Ci dispatching Danxin made sense. Oddly calm, Chuxiu’s tone was utterly flat. “Then never mind. I’d like to rest some more. No need to see you out, Young Marquis.”

Suddenly, the sound of hurried breathing filled her ears—Shen Yu had risen abruptly, unable to contain himself any longer. “Just you wait! I’m going to ask Wanzhi why he stays by Xia Yanran’s side for a mere fainting spell, yet you bore his child and he hasn’t said a word to you!”

“No! Don’t go!” Chuxiu reached out, catching the edge of his robe, but he slipped away from her grasp.

“Why not let me go? Or do you prefer to deceive yourself, Han Chu?” He still called her by her former name, as though that might bridge the distance between them.

“It’s not self-deception…” Chuxiu could only explain, “I’m waiting for him to come and tell me himself… but I won’t go to him.”

“If he never comes to explain, will you just keep waiting? Never ask?” The veins stood out on Shen Yu’s forehead, his whole presence crackling with barely suppressed fury, like thunder ready to split the sky.

At this, Chuxiu silently sat up, leaning against the couch, her eyes full of longing as she looked at him. “Please, for the sake of old times… don’t go.”

Shen Yu, the dignified son of a marquis, a man who had seen the world—yet now, seeing the woman he loved plead so desperately, he felt an unbearable sorrow, as though her grief seeped into him too, and he feared his tears might fall.

He knew well that Han Chu was the sort to never turn back until she’d hit a dead end. In that, they were much alike. Shen Yu took a deep breath, forcibly swallowing his anger and pain. “Very well. I won’t go.”

Only then did Chuxiu let out a quiet sigh of relief. “Now… is truly not the time. He’s newly wed, and I am but a servant—I have no right to question him. I’ll wait. If he still thinks of me, he will come.”

Shen Yu was silent for a long time before sighing, “Han Chu, you treat him so well, yet to me, you are truly… cruel.” He tried to sound casual, unwilling to admit to his jealousy, though it gnawed at him.

As expected, Chuxiu only managed a weak smile. “Your kindness to me—I can only hope to repay it in another life.”

“Don’t blame yourself… never blame yourself…” How could he bear to blame her? “If only I had realized sooner, you wouldn’t have suffered at Chacha’s hands, nor endured my cold words. If I had treated you better, you wouldn’t have left with Wanzhi.”

But now, more words were useless. It was already far, far too late. Once because of Helian Qi, once because of Yun Ci—they had missed each other twice, separated by only a single step, yet that step became an unbridgeable gulf.

She had not witnessed his growth and change, nor had he waited for her to look back.

“I’m going to sleep now.” Chuxiu felt her mind sinking into exhaustion. To sleep was best—then she needn’t face the bloody truth: no child, no surrogate, no abandonment. And none of Shen Yu’s confessions, for which she could offer no return.

“Rest, then,” Shen Yu said softly. “I’ll light some calming incense for you.”

“Thank you.” Chuxiu turned away, lying on her side, silent.

Shen Yu lit the incense in quiet, waiting until her breathing became slow and regular before he slipped out of the room.

Once he left the courtyard where Chuxiu lived, his pace quickened, sharp with resolve, as though he would storm into Yun Ci’s quarters without hesitation.

They had been friends for years—Yun Ci had even saved his life. Had Yun Ci not gone so far this time, Shen Yu would never have confronted him so. But when Han Chu was involved, he could not stand by.

“Wanzhi!” As soon as he entered the main garden of Zhiyan Pavilion, Shen Yu spotted Yun Ci sitting alone, gazing up at the moon, lost in thought.

One had to admit, in his white robes and with such an expression, Yun Ci seemed untouched by mortal dust, a being of ethereal grace. Yet acts like these stained his reputation as an otherworldly immortal.

Shen Yu had no desire for pretense. He strode up and asked bluntly, “Did you know Han Chu fainted?”

Yun Ci’s jaw tightened, his expression grave, eyes averted. “I know.”

“And knowing that, you have the leisure to sit here moon-gazing?” Shen Yu’s voice rose, edged with anger.

Yun Ci glanced toward the room before replying, “I’m not here to admire the moon. Pinyan is unwell. I am waiting for the physician’s report.”

“And Han Chu? She deserves to suffer?” Shen Yu squinted, incredulous.

Yun Ci gave a short, bitter laugh, finally meeting Shen Yu’s eyes. “Isn’t she in your care?”

With a dull thud, Shen Yu’s fist slammed down on the stone table. Blood welled from his knuckles, vivid as his bloodshot eyes.

He seized Yun Ci by the collar, hauling him to his feet. “Is this your so-called kindness? What did you say to me when you took her away?” One more ounce of anger and he feared he’d strike him.

“Young Marquis!” Zhuying appeared out of nowhere, rushing forward to intervene.

“Out of my way!” Shen Yu shouted. “Your master is a man—he doesn’t need your help!”

Zhuying could not bear to hear Yun Ci insulted and leaped forward to strike.

“Stand down!” Yun Ci’s cold command rang out. Zhuying’s fist halted in midair, barely reined in.

The commotion in the courtyard finally drew those inside. Danxin emerged, seeing her master and his close friend locked in a hostile confrontation, struck speechless by the tension.

Never before had she seen the Young Marquis so furious, nor her master so… desolate.

Behind Danxin, Zhuoyan, who served Xia Yanran, gasped, “Young Marquis!”

Yet the two men seemed oblivious, staring each other down as a strange, unspoken tension simmered between them.

Shen Yu’s blood had already stained Yun Ci’s white robe, the color blooming like plum blossoms on snow. Yun Ci’s cold gaze met Shen Yu’s, showing no anger or struggle—only a nameless remorse and… grief.

At length, Yun Ci dropped his eyes to his bloodstained collar and ordered Danxin, “Take Zhuoyan inside.”

Danxin glanced at Zhuying, recalling the hidden guards nearby, and finally relaxed a little. She pulled Zhuoyan back inside to continue tending Xia Yanran. She had a hunch tonight’s events had to do with Chuxiu. If it all came out, and her master saw his own heart clearly, perhaps it would not be such a bad thing.

With Danxin and Zhuoyan gone, only Zhuying remained in the courtyard, along with the countless hidden guards. Yun Ci finally turned to Shen Yu. “Come with me to Qingshin Study.” With that, he strode off, ignoring those who trailed behind.

Shen Yu watched his friend’s steady gait. Though still angry, he couldn’t help but worry, “Has he taken his medicine again?”

Zhuying bowed his head in shame. “Since the wedding, master has taken medicine every day…”

Shen Yu narrowed his eyes and gave a cold laugh, saying nothing more as he strode after them.

*****

It was late into the night, silence shrouding all. Yun Xian received an urgent dispatch: in Bei Xi, the winds of change were rising, the Chen clan ready to break camp at Minzhou and march north, intent on toppling the Yuan dynasty.

Though the turmoil was in Bei Xi and the Yun clan resided in Nan Xi—seemingly safe—the whole family knew that the Marquis of Lixin owed his current standing to both the former emperor of Bei Xi and the emperor of Nan Xi. If the Yuans fell and the Chens seized the northern throne, the Yun clan would have to find a way to respond. Not to mention the business roots and family branches they’d established over centuries in Bei Xi.

The more Yun Xian thought, the more restless he became, and he hurried to Zhiyan Pavilion, only to find it empty—Danxin said his elder brother had gone to Qingshin Study. Yun Xian had worried about disturbing Yun Ci at rest, but learning that he was still handling affairs brought him some relief, and he set off for Qingshin Study.

Just as he entered, Zhuying blocked his way. “Third Master, the master and the Young Marquis from Jingzhou are in the middle of urgent business. Please wait.”

Yun Xian frowned, displeased. “My business is urgent—life and death!”

But Zhuying stood firm, bowing respectfully. “Third Master, please don’t make things difficult for me.”

“Scoundrel!” Yun Xian’s anger flared. He gripped the dispatch tightly, shouting, “Who dares stop me?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Yun Ci’s voice sounded from the study, “Zhuying, let Third Master in.”

Zhuying bowed in apology and withdrew into the shadows.

Yun Xian swept his sleeve angrily and strode toward the study. As he reached the slope, a faint, cool fragrance drifted from within, and the fourth concubine, Luanqing, emerged, head lowered. They nearly collided.

“Fourth Madam,” Yun Xian greeted her softly, recognizing her. But as he looked up, he saw something strange—her eyes rimmed red, lips pressed tight, her complexion paler than ever. Her expression was one of heart-wrenching sorrow.