Chapter 67: The Beauty's Fleeting Vows, Life and Death Taken Lightly

Xia Yanan is dead!

With a deafening roar, Chu Xiu felt as if her mind had exploded. She staggered, nearly fainting. “What did you say?”

Qian Yun no longer had the strength to speak; she merely leaned against the bamboo shadows and said, “Don’t delay. The Marquis has summoned you to the Hall of Justice. Go quickly.”

At this moment, Chu Xiu couldn’t care about pondering the Marquis’s intentions. She hurriedly grabbed a lantern and followed the two, making her way to the Hall of Justice.

Along the way, the words Qian Yun had just spoken replayed in her mind, and the image of Xia Yanan’s death became vivid before her eyes, as if she had witnessed it herself. The scene was terrifyingly horrific.

What made it worse was that Xia Yanan had been with child—his child… For both mother and unborn child to perish, how cruel could fate be?

Over three months had passed since she last set foot in the Hall of Justice, and now Chu Xiu felt as though a lifetime had gone by. Fewer people were present this time; only Yun Ci sat at the main seat, with the Fourth Concubine, Luan Qing, and the physician, Qu Fang, at his side. The Matron and the second and third branches were nowhere to be seen.

By all rights, when such a calamity had struck, the entire Yun household should be present. Why were only these few here? Chu Xiu wondered in her heart, but before she could dwell on it, Yun Ci’s stern voice cut through the silence: “Kneel!”

Startled, Chu Xiu looked up at Yun Ci sitting atop the crimson dais. His face was ashen, eyes bloodshot, his grief laid bare—she had never seen him so gaunt and exhausted.

Of course he was grieving. How could he not be? The deceased was his wife, and the unborn child she carried.

Chu Xiu felt her own tears threatening to fall, though she could not tell if they were for Xia Yanan or for Yun Ci. She didn’t question Yun Ci’s strange behavior, thinking him merely overcome with grief, and so she knelt as ordered, her voice hoarse: “My lord, please accept my condolences.”

At her words, Yun Ci let out a cold, piercing laugh. Chu Xiu looked up, confused, only to see that he was gripping something in his hand—damp, as if it were a piece of clothing.

Before she could make it out, Yun Ci tossed it into the center of the Hall with a soft thud, landing right before her eyes. She leaned forward and saw that it was a cloak, exquisitely made, brilliantly colored—and all too familiar.

“This cloak…” she murmured.

“You recognize it?” Yun Ci’s voice was as frigid as a frozen lake, biting to the bone. “I remember you wore it once. Pin Yan gave it to you.”

“Yes.” Chu Xiu nodded, admitting it was indeed the cloak Xia Yanan had lent her the day she was harassed by Yun Qi during her monthly. That day, she had even gotten a washing chit from Qian Yun and sent it to the laundry. After that, having been demoted to the laundry herself, she’d forgotten all about it and never saw the cloak again.

Strangely, the laundry mistress, Madam Jing, had never mentioned it again, which meant it must have been sent back to Xia Yanan.

Chu Xiu looked carefully at the cloak on the ground. It was soaked, and strands of water grass clung to it… Did this mean Xia Yanan was wearing it when she died?

As the question formed, Yun Ci said coldly, “This cloak was on Pin Yan’s corpse.”

All at once, Chu Xiu understood why Yun Ci had summoned her. Realizing this, she couldn’t help but sneer, “Madam lent me the cloak, which I sent to the laundry and never saw again.”

“The mistress of the laundry says otherwise.” Yun Ci’s haggard face was thunderous, veins bulging on his forehead. “Madam Jing claims the cloak was returned to you after cleaning.”

“What?” Chu Xiu’s eyes shot up in disbelief. “No! Never! I haven’t seen that cloak since that day!”

“Is that so?” Yun Ci’s bloodshot eyes glinted with a feral light, the gentleness of the past utterly gone. “Then explain this dagger!”

No sooner had he spoken than a cold flash flew toward her. Qu Fang reacted swiftly, blocking it. With a clang, a dagger landed close to where Chu Xiu knelt. She squinted and saw the ruby inlaid in the hilt, the blade still stained with dark, dried blood.

This dagger—wasn’t this the pair-matched dagger Shen Yu had once gifted her? But on Yun Ci’s wedding day, she’d found an excuse to give it to him, and Yun Ci had then passed the ruby-embellished one to Xia Yanan.

If she remembered correctly, the last time she saw this dagger was in the bridal chamber of Yun Ci and Xia Yanan; Xia Yanan had meant to use it to cut paper but fainted before she could. It was that very day Yun Ci had diagnosed that his wife was three months pregnant…

Suddenly, Chu Xiu recalled what Qian Yun had said on their way here—Xia Yanan’s corpse had a dagger lodged straight through her abdomen.

Was it this one? But what did this have to do with her? Before she could ask, Zhu Ying hurried into the Hall, presenting another dagger: “My lord, this other dagger was found in Miss Chu Xiu’s room.”

“Impossible!” Chu Xiu’s eyes widened as she saw the green gem on the hilt. “I haven’t seen this dagger in ages. How could it be in my room?”

She paused, then addressed Yun Ci, “The paired daggers were a wedding gift from Young Marquis Shen to you. I saw with my own eyes you gave the ruby one to your wife. By rights, the emerald one should be with you.”

She spoke the truth. The pair was meant for the couple; why would she steal one?

But Yun Ci ignored her explanation and slammed his palm on the table. “Are you suggesting I framed you by putting the dagger in your room?”

Chu Xiu stammered, “That’s not what I meant…”

“Then that’s settled.” Yun Ci’s face was full of grief as he asked coolly, “Chu Xiu, with the household elders absent, answer me honestly—did you have any part in Pin Yan’s death?”

Those words plunged Chu Xiu into a bottomless abyss. She had never expected that Yun Ci, who had once ordered guards to protect her outside the laundry, would now accuse her of such a heinous crime.

To murder the wife of the Marquis? How could she dare? She didn’t know why Madam Jing would falsely claim she received the cloak, nor why the dagger was in her room—but how could she swallow such a deadly injustice?

“No! I had nothing to do with Madam’s death,” Chu Xiu answered resolutely, looking at Yun Ci. “Have you forgotten? At dusk tonight, you were with me in the laundry. The laundry is half an hour’s walk from the Quiet Garden. How could I have committed the crime and pushed Madam into the lotus pond?” At this point, she could no longer care for Yun Ci’s reputation and revealed their private meeting.

“You’re clever, seeking me as your alibi,” Yun Ci retorted coldly. “When I saw you, the sun had already set. Pin Yan had been missing for an hour by then—more than enough time for you to act.”

“My lord!” Chu Xiu was aghast. Was this the man she had always revered? “You would convict me on a cloak, a dagger, and a questionable testimony?”

Defiantly, she met his gaze—one above the dais, one below—each seeing only resolve and heartbreak in the other.

At length, Yun Ci was first to look away, his voice icy. “These clues alone are not enough to convict you. But… you have the greatest motive in the entire household.”

He didn’t look at her as he explained, “You were once my favored maid, and even carried my child. To marry Pin Yan, I forced you to get rid of it. You must have hated me for that. Now that Pin Yan was pregnant, and treated you harshly, you sought revenge—luring her out to kill her. How is that not likely?”

At this, he finally looked at her, eyes red, expression sharp and accusing, as if determined to nail her to this crime. “The dagger was driven into Pin Yan’s abdomen. Unless you hated the child in her womb, why such cruelty?”

The words landed like a dull blade hacking at her heart—painful, but not fatal. Hearing Yun Ci’s condemnation, Chu Xiu felt not wronged, but furious.

This was the man she had once loved with all her heart! The man she thought understood her! The man who had once been so gentle, who made her love him to the point of abasement!

But what kind of man could so heartlessly accuse a woman with whom he had shared vows and intimacy?

She could endure betrayal, abandonment, disappointment, even contempt—

But not injustice. Not a murder charge.

Why? In her heart, he was like an immortal; in his, she was a jealous murderess.

The suffocating pain crept in. Chu Xiu looked at Yun Ci, struggling to defend herself, and forced down her anger. “Even if I did kill, I would never use that dagger. Shen Yu can vouch for me.”

How could a woman who valued affection above all, especially when she knew the dagger was a token of love, use it to kill?

Chu Xiu straightened her back and rose from the floor. No matter who set this trap for her, she would never confess, nor kneel for such a crime. “I ask the Marquis to summon Young Marquis Shen and let him testify for me.”

“You know well that Zi Feng is not in the residence today.” Yun Ci’s eyes narrowed with hatred. “He was once your master and now looks after you. If he came, of course he’d defend you. We’re old friends—if he spoke for you, how could I not let you go? You know well that he’s at the Duke Mu’s banquet tonight.”

“What!” Chu Xiu was left speechless. After a moment’s thought, she understood. No matter how she defended herself, she could not escape this accusation. The assailant had arranged everything—evidence and witnesses—just to ensure she could not clear her name.

Yet now, Chu Xiu felt no anger toward her unknown enemy. All her fury was directed at the man seated above, the Marquis of Lixin.

A year and a half was enough to see someone clearly. Once, she’d worshipped him as a god; now, he had fallen from her altar.

Nothing could be restored.

“So, in your heart, I am so contemptible,” Chu Xiu’s gaze swept the room—Yun Ci, Luan Qing, Qu Fang, Zhu Ying, Qian Yun. Each face was unfamiliar, cold, blind to right and wrong.

“Chu Xiu…” Yun Ci finally spoke, as if weighing his words. “Out of respect for our past, I called you here privately. While the Matron is still unaware, tell me truthfully—was this your doing?”

Chu Xiu laughed. “If I say no, will you believe me?”

Yun Ci pressed his lips together, silent—his expression said it all: he would not.

“You’ve already made up your mind, my lord, haven’t you?” Chu Xiu’s voice was calm at last; inside, her heart was dead.

Standing tall in the center of the Hall, she was prouder than ever before. She laughed bitterly, “I was blind to trust the wrong man. This ending—I accept. But for a crime I did not commit, I will never bow!”

For a moment, she thought she saw Yun Ci’s long fingers gripping the armrest, as if desperately restraining himself. His eyes, on the surface calm as the sea, hid surging waves beneath—impossible to fathom.

Chu Xiu suddenly realized she had never truly known this man. She’d idealized him, fallen in love with her own illusion. The real Yun Ci had changed completely.

Since arriving at the Yun household, no matter how Yun Ci hurt her—forcing her to abort their child, sending her to serve his wife, demoting her to the laundry—she had never resented him, only belittled herself, always making excuses for him, even lying to herself, breaking her own heart.

In her memory, she only recalled how he once washed her hair, cared for her day and night through her illness, changed her medicine time and again for her lost voice…

But now? The vows of love had crumbled to dust. The tenderness had become mere illusion. In all the months since she’d met Yun Ci, for the first time, Chu Xiu bitterly regretted entrusting herself to the wrong person.

If she could choose again, she would rather have stayed in Chasing Rainbow Pavilion, enduring Cha Cha’s bullying and Shen Yu’s coldness—at least she could have kept a shred of hope to sustain her.

With that thought, Chu Xiu slowly placed a hand over her abdomen and closed her eyes, her voice full of bitter mockery, “You were right. This child should not have existed. With such a father, it would only be a disgrace.”

She didn’t open her eyes, nor did she see the reactions around her. The sharp intakes of breath told her she had shocked them. Indeed, for the lofty Marquis of Lixin to be so denounced by a lowly courtesan—it was scandalous.

Chu Xiu clenched her fists inside her sleeves, fighting back the unbearable ache in her heart, yet forcing a smile. “I was foolish. Now, I reap what I sow. My life I will keep, but this crime—I will never admit!”

It was as if a fierce, bitter cry echoed through the empty Hall—the words “I will never admit” hung in the air like a curse, tightening around each heart, suffocating.

Clutching her aching chest, Chu Xiu drew the hairpin from her hair and pressed it to her throat, fixing Yun Ci with a bleak gaze. “A hero should not pledge lightly, nor a beauty swear eternal love—for fear either would die for me in vain. Yun Ci, I return these words to you today. From this moment on, may we never meet again, in life or in death!”

As the final word left her lips, she tightened her grip, driving the hairpin into her throat. But before she could drive it deep, a wrenching pain tore through her chest, as if her heart was being ripped apart.

A metallic taste filled her mouth. She reflexively covered her lips, and a blackened clot of blood spilled out—ghastly and terrifying. Then, a splitting pain struck her head, and she collapsed backward.

In a haze, Chu Xiu thought she saw Yun Ci’s face, tinged with both surprise and sorrow. She could not understand what could make him so—his hand covered his mouth as if suppressing some pain. If not for the faint, comforting smile between his brows, she would have thought he, too, was coughing blood.

Before consciousness faded, she seemed to hear someone say, “At last, it is broken!”

Then came a chorus of panicked cries: “My lord!”

In the end, she only knew she fell into a warm embrace, the familiar scent of dragon incense and medicine flooding her senses. She breathed it in one last time, knowing she would never have the chance again.

From this moment on, may we never meet again, in life or in death.

She did not realize that her words of severance would become a prophecy fulfilled.

Yun Ci’s voice echoed at her ear—sorrowful, joyful, full of both longing and grief—until all that remained was two words: “Chu Xiu…”

Drops of warm liquid fell onto the wound at her throat, thick with the scent of blood. But she knew for certain, the tears falling were not Yun Ci’s.