Hope Amid Despair

So when the cat leapt down from the roof, landing squarely on the horse’s face with its sharp claws grazing past before it hit the ground, Ye Qianran was still lost in thought, staring at Ye An. The horse reared in a frenzy, a long neigh tearing through the air and snapping Ye Qianran out of her daze. Before she could grasp what was happening, Ye An shoved her aside with a sudden force. In a flash, he lunged forward, grabbing hold of the horse’s reins. The horse reared up, its front hooves crashing back to earth, flinging the stable hand far away. Mongolian wild horses are known for their ferocity and untamed spirit; the beast dragged Ye An in circles, his hands already marked with angry red welts from the reins, but he clung on with all his strength.

Juan Bilan quickly shielded Ye Qianran and Meng Lanyi, while Ye Yuandao, seeing the commotion, instinctively tried to help, only to be restrained by the steward. Several young servants rushed in, but the horse, wild and blind with panic, rampaged about, impossible to contain. Helpless anxiety gripped everyone present. Ye An’s hands, gripping the reins, were soon bloodied, and one careless servant was knocked to the ground. Ye An twisted agilely, moving to the horse’s head, attempting to soothe it. The horse, desperate to break free, lashed out with its hooves. Ye Qianran instinctively dashed forward, but just then, a piercing cry rent the air—“Young Master!”—as Bilan hurled herself at Ye An. The horse’s hoof came down hard on Bilan’s back; she spat a mouthful of bright blood onto Ye An’s pale robe, red as a blooming peony. Ye Qianran covered her mouth in disbelief. Ye An caught Bilan as they both tumbled to the ground. At that instant, a servant dashed forward, seizing the loosened reins.

With trembling hands, Ye An cradled Bilan, who whimpered like a kitten in his arms, “It hurts… it hurts so much…” Her forehead pressed tightly to his chest. Ye An’s voice was gentle, fearful of startling her. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here. You’ll be all right. Hold on a little longer, we’ll see the doctor soon.” Carefully, he lifted her. Ye Qianran pushed past Juan Bi to reach Ye An’s side. Bilan bit her lip, her face ghostly pale, a faint cry escaping her—“Young Master…” Ye An, brows furrowed, nodded. “I’m here. Be good, it’s all right now.” His voice was so tender, as if she were his only treasure.

At last, her strength gave out and she fainted.

Ye Qianran turned to look at Meng Lanyi, whose face was equally pale as she stared at Ye An, disbelief clouding her features. Ye An, holding Bilan, hurried away.

At that moment, Ye Qianran had no time to think, but rushed after Ye An back to the house.

Only then did Ye Yuandao finally breathe a sigh of relief, his anxious heart settling. Meng Jiang wore an apologetic expression, about to speak, but Ye Yuandao stopped him. “Such things are impossible to foresee, Brother Meng, you need not blame yourself.” Not giving Meng Jiang the chance to reply, he instructed the steward to send the wounded quickly for treatment and to have the courtyard cleaned up. The steward took note of everything, and only then did Ye Yuandao usher Meng Jiang into the side hall.

The courtyard was a chaos of debris. The steward quickly gave orders: the injured servants and stable hand were taken for treatment, while the remaining maids and servants began to tidy up.

The doctor arrived swiftly. After examining Bilan’s injuries and taking her pulse, he prescribed medicine and earnestly advised that she must recuperate and not exert herself, lest the trauma reach her heart and lungs, which would make recovery much more difficult.

Juan Bi saw the doctor out. Bilan’s injuries were on her back, so she could only lie on her side to avoid aggravating the wound. Ye An sat at her bedside, holding her hand. Bilan’s face was ashen, her lips trembled ceaselessly, and cold sweat beaded on her brow. Ye An gazed at her with gentle affection, carefully wiping away her sweat, as if there were no one else in the world but her.

Meng Lanyi clenched her hands within her sleeves, her mouth dry, unable to speak. After a long time, she quietly slipped out.

The sky outside was clear, with pale autumn clouds drifting overhead, casting uncertain shapes. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, the autumn sunlight caressing her face, yet her expression was devoid of feeling.

Ye Qianran had somehow come to stand quietly beside her, watching her upturned face, squinting at the cerulean sky. She spoke softly, “Bilan was hurt saving him—brother was simply anxious in that moment.”

Meng Lanyi didn’t look at her, but a faint smile touched her lips. “I know.”

Ye Qianran lowered her head with a smile. She knew Meng Lanyi didn’t truly believe it. Nor did she. Her brother’s concern for Bilan exceeded anything she had imagined.

Ye An remained in the room, tending to Bilan without leaving her side for a moment.

After lunch, Ye Qianran and Meng Lanyi lay down together for a nap, though neither could sleep, their thoughts troubled. Ye Qianran turned to look at Meng Lanyi. “Sister, what are you thinking about?”

Meng Lanyi gave no answer. After a while, Ye Qianran said again, “Sometimes, I really can’t see through you. I don’t understand what you’re thinking. Brother told me you dislike him, but I don’t really feel that’s true. I wonder if I’m right?”

Still, Meng Lanyi said nothing.

At last, she spoke softly, “Sometimes, I don’t know what I’m thinking myself.”

Ye Qianran rolled onto her back, propping her head on her hand as she gazed at the violet canopy above, chuckling. “It doesn’t really matter what you think. What matters is knowing what you want.”

Meng Lanyi smiled faintly. “Sometimes I envy you. You never hide your feelings. If you like something, you like it. If you dislike it, you say so. You never put on a mask, you live so freely.”

Ye Qianran propped herself up on her elbow, studying Meng Lanyi as if trying to see through her. Meng Lanyi frowned but let her look. At length, Ye Qianran lay back down with a sigh and said nothing more.

Meng Lanyi turned toward her, gently brushed the hair at her temples, and asked softly, “Why are you sighing?”

Ye Qianran turned on her side, looking straight into her sister’s eyes. “Do you truly dislike my brother, not even a little?”

She felt Meng Lanyi stiffen, then relax, remaining silent for a long while. Ye Qianran laughed. “From your reaction, I know your words to my brother were not honest.”

“But why?” Ye Qianran asked in confusion. “If you like him, then you do. If you don’t, you don’t. Why lie to him?”

Meng Lanyi gazed into her clear, innocent eyes and sighed. “There are many things in this world beyond our control. You’re still too young to understand.”

At this, Ye Qianran burst out laughing. “You speak as if you’re a dozen years older than me, but you’re only two years my senior.”

Meng Lanyi laughed as well. “True, but why does it feel like I’m so much older than you?”

“Because your heart has grown old, sister. That’s why you feel your little sister is still young.” Her voice, with its silvery laughter, floated through the layers of gauzy curtains, lingering and distant.

The afternoon sun streamed through the leaves, casting light and shadow into the room. Occasionally, a breeze stirred the curtains. The incense burner sent forth a faint, lingering fragrance. Outside the window, white clouds drifted and leaves swayed, making this autumn day seem all the more beautiful.

Meng Jiang, Ye Yuandao, and Wen Qiumei sat in the side hall, chatting. As they reminisced over happy memories, laughter rang out. Of all Ye family’s friends in the capital, the Mengs were dearest; over twenty years ago, Ye Yuandao and Meng Jiang had become close friends, sharing everything. Later, Meng Jiang entered officialdom while Ye Yuandao turned to commerce. More than twenty years had passed, and their bond only deepened. Speaking of old times, both were filled with emotion—so many years had gone by, and the feeling was bittersweet.

Their conversation gradually turned to their children. Ye Yuandao sighed that Ye An, now twenty-two, still had not married. He worried endlessly, but Ye An seemed unconcerned, always brushing off his questions with vague answers, never taking the matter seriously.

Meng Jiang felt the same. His daughter, now seventeen, never gave thought to her own marriage. Wen Qiumei teased, “Why not have the two of them wed? It would make our families even closer—what a wonderful match!”

This suggestion struck Ye Yuandao as a revelation. Looking to Meng Jiang, he saw the same dawning realization, and both burst into hearty laughter. “Brother Meng, we’ve been friends for more than twenty years—how did we never think of this? They’re both unmarried, what better match could there be? How could we have overlooked it?”

Meng Jiang’s laughter creased his face. “Yes, we always thought a good match was far away, only to find it right before our eyes.”

Wen Qiumei sipped her tea and said, “Lanyi grew up before us and feels like a daughter. I suppose we forgot that this ‘daughter’ could marry our son.”

Her words set the two men laughing again.

Ye Yuandao immediately sent for Ye An to see how he would respond this time.

Before long, Ye An arrived with the steward, now dressed in a dark robe, his posture erect, though a hint of fatigue lingered between his brows, and a faint smile remained at his lips. Meng Jiang nodded in satisfaction at the sight.

He greeted them politely before sitting down. Ye Yuandao smiled. “An’er, today I wish to discuss a marriage proposal with you. Are you willing?”

Ye An mustered a smile, betraying nothing. “Father, a man should establish his career before marrying. I am busy learning your trade now; let’s discuss marriage later.”

“Is it that our Lanyi is not good enough for you?” Meng Jiang asked, half in jest, half in earnest.

Ye An suddenly stiffened, as if something had struck him hard. Before he could think, he blurted out, “What?”

“Your Uncle Meng wishes to betroth Lanyi to you—are you willing?” Meng Jiang watched him, uncertain whether he was happy or not.

Ye An turned in a daze to his father, who nodded. He then looked to Meng Jiang, his mouth dry, struggling to form words. “What does Lanyi say?”

Meng Jiang smiled. “I haven’t told her yet. For now, I just want to know—do you wish to marry her?”

Ye Yuandao, Wen Qiumei, and Meng Jiang all looked at him. Ye An nodded distractedly, then shook his head, then after a pause, nodded again.

Meng Jiang couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, do you or don’t you?”

Ye An looked up, his dark eyes still unfocused, his thoughts far away. After a long time, he said softly, “I don’t know if she would agree.”

Ye Yuandao, hearing this, was nearly certain—this matter was all but settled. So his son’s heart was set on Lanyi; no wonder he’d always been unenthusiastic about marriage proposals. Now he understood why.

Ye Yuandao and Meng Jiang exchanged a knowing smile. Wen Qiumei rose, walked to Ye An’s side, and stroked his jet-black hair with gentle affection. “Lanyi is right here in the house. Why not go and ask her?”