Unfathomable Mind Games

Ye An walked alone, absent-minded, along the long corridor leading to the Bamboo Snow Pavilion. His mind was blank. The moment he thought about asking her that question, his heart began to pound. All the cold indifference he’d tried to feign was utterly forgotten. Just when hope had turned to despair, fate had granted him such a blessing—he truly wanted to ask her if she would marry him. He had imagined countless times what their wedding would look like, what life after marriage would be, how they would look with children. In those days when he so dearly liked her, he never tired of envisioning a future together. Even when she treated him coldly, he accepted it gladly, believing she must care for him, at least a little.

But that day in the Warm Pavilion, she had truly wounded his heart. How proud and arrogant he was, yet to be rejected and despised by her so harshly left him in utter despair. Now, in retrospect, perhaps she’d simply been in a bad mood that day, or maybe she’d been angry because he’d been seen in the company of courtesans. That was why she’d lost control and said those things. Yes, that must be it. How foolish he’d been, letting such words drive a wedge between them, neglecting and ignoring her. He had been terribly, hopelessly foolish.

He resolved to apologize to her properly and ask her sincerely.

Before Juan Bi could announce him, he had already burst into the Bamboo Snow Pavilion. At a glance, he saw Meng Lanyi sitting by the rosewood table, sipping tea. She merely lifted her eyelids when he entered. Ye Qianran hurriedly stood, but Ye An didn’t notice—his gaze was firmly fixed on Meng Lanyi.

Ye Qianran glanced at her brother, then at Meng Lanyi, her lips curving in a smile. “Brother, sit down. I was just about to fetch some pastries Sister Meng likes. What luck that you came—you keep her company for a while.” With that, she signaled Juan Bi, and the two quietly closed the door as they left.

Only the two of them remained. Meng Lanyi’s expression was as calm as ever, with none of the gentleness she’d shown before. She raised her cup and took a small sip of cool tea.

Ye An’s Adam’s apple bobbed almost imperceptibly, but he found himself speechless.

Meng Lanyi’s gaze swept over him, cool and detached. “Young Master Ye, is there something you wish to say?” Her tone was cold, emotionless.

The feverish thoughts that had filled Ye An moments before vanished as if someone had doused him in ice water, extinguishing all his hope and ardor.

His eyes lost their former heat, becoming cool and distant. He sat slowly across from her, forcing a faint smile. “Uncle Meng said he intends to betroth you to me. I came to ask how you feel about it.”

Meng Lanyi’s hand trembled as she held her cup, though her face remained composed. She replied blandly, “Oh? Is that so?”

Her hands unconsciously clenched at her sides. He regulated his breath, lowering his gaze to the edge of the table, trying to sound nonchalant. “I want to know what you really think.”

“A daughter obeys her parents’ will and the words of the matchmaker. I’ve always listened to my father.”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking.” Seeing her indifference, a faint anger flickered in Ye An’s eyes.

“Then what do you want to know?” Meng Lanyi tilted her head as if she truly didn’t understand.

“What about your heart? Tell me what you truly feel,” Ye An pressed, his gaze fixed on her brow.

“In the past month, Zhang Yu has come to the Minister’s residence to propose three times. My father did not agree. Why? Because he did not want to form an alliance with Zhang Jing, but could not outright refuse, so he had to find someone else to marry me to. As for me, I have never had thoughts of my own. Whatever my father asks of me, I will do.” She paused, then added, “But you are different. You can refuse. You don’t have to marry me.”

Ye An set his cup down on the table with a sharp sound. Tea splashed onto his clothes, but he didn’t notice. A mocking smile touched his lips as he retorted, “Why should I refuse? You know I like you, yet you insist on saying such cold things to provoke me. I won’t fall for it again. Whether your words are heartfelt or not, I won’t let you go this time. You speak of parental arrangements and matchmakers—fine. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the Minister’s residence to propose. I will marry you. I certainly will.”

Meng Lanyi bit her lip and said nothing.

At the door, Ye An turned back to look at her. She still sat upright, eyes lowered, cup in hand. At his lips played a faint, unreadable smile. “Actually, it’s not that you don’t like me at all. It’s just that in your heart, something else matters more than I do.”

Meng Lanyi remained composed, but as the cup touched her lips, a few drops of tea spilled, staining her collar like blurred traces of tears.

That night, when Meng Lanyi returned home, her father asked, “I know Ye An has already asked you, but I want to hear it from you myself. Lanyi, do you want to marry him?”

Meng Lanyi lowered her gaze to the floor, neither nodding nor shaking her head.

“Though your father is in difficult straits now, I would never send you away just to escape Zhang Yu’s pestering. Don’t consider my circumstances—so long as you are unwilling, I will never force you to marry him.”

Meng Lanyi was silent for a long time before finally nodding, her voice as soft as a whisper, “I want to marry him.”

Meng Jiang nodded in relief, tears glimmering in his eyes. “As long as you’re willing, that’s enough. You’ve spent your whole life living for your father’s sake—he owes you that. When you marry, you must live for yourself.”

Wind stirred the shadows, and the moonlight spilled gently over the green bamboo, dappling it with silvery hues.

Zhuge Liuyun was dreaming again. When he awoke, the moon was high in the sky—a full arc of silver pouring through the window, shadows of swaying trees dancing in the light. Unlike other nights, he didn’t reach for wine. Instead, he draped a cloak over his shoulders and stepped outside.

The green bamboo in the courtyard rustled softly. The wisteria trellis glimmered hazy beneath the moonlight. He stood before it, his unbound hair falling loosely over his shoulders, the moonlight outlining his striking, elegant features—clear brows, defined eyes, a tall, slender figure. He tilted his head slightly, recalling the girl who once laughed beneath the trellis, her smile as lovely as a wild rose, her stubborn persistence. A gentle smile touched his lips. He wrapped the cloak more tightly and strolled deeper into the garden, the night breeze and moonlight both faintly cool.

The Minister’s residence was utterly quiet at night. Wandering past flowers and willows, he found himself by the lakeside pavilion. The willows wept at the shore, and the lake reflected a sparse, pale moon. The white moon and jade water cast a cool, tranquil light over this patch of earth. He sat slowly in the pavilion, eyes falling on the jade pendant at his waist, its creamy luster cold in the moonlight. He closed his fingers around it, tilted his head, and gazed at the dark sky. After a long time, his lips parted and a few indistinct words escaped—words that, in the fragmented quiet of the night, fell into his own heart like stones into water. No one knew what he said; only he did. It was a person’s name—a name of three syllables.

Zhuge Liuyun did not know how long he remained in the pavilion. When he finally rose to leave, his legs tingled with numbness. Passing Qingfeng’s room, he saw a faint light inside. A tall figure was cast in silhouette against the window, head bent as if reading. Zhuge Liuyun hesitated before the door, deciding not to disturb him, but before he could turn away, the door opened. Zhuge Liuyun smiled, and Qingfeng stepped aside to let him in.

Zhuge Liuyun leafed idly through a book of poetry left open on the table, sitting with a soft smile. His voice, clear and gentle as night dew, rang out, “Reading at midnight again? If Father knew, he’d be beside himself with joy.”

Qingfeng shot him a look. “Liuyun, you truly have a talent for mockery.” Zhuge Liuyun laughed softly.

Resting his chin on his hand, Qingfeng asked, “Why are you wandering about the courtyard in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Just came out for a walk,” Zhuge Liuyun said, still casual as ever.

“Oh, right, I have something for you.” Qingfeng went into the inner room and returned with something in hand, grinning mysteriously. “Hold out your hand.”

Puzzled, Zhuge Liuyun did as told, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Qingfeng placed a crystal-clear, delicate dice in his palm. “She said she threw away the last one she made for you and greatly regretted it, so she’s made you another.”

A soft tenderness welled in his heart. Zhuge Liuyun stared at the dice in his hand, opened his mouth to speak, but Qingfeng cut him off. “She also said that if you don’t want it, you can throw it away—but don’t ever return it to her.”

Zhuge Liuyun was silent. Qingfeng patted his shoulder, his tone earnest. “She’s very devoted to you. Every few days she pesters me to bring her here to see you, never minding her reputation. Each time, though, you send her away. You’re far too heartless.” Qingfeng spoke with a touch of complaint.

A faint smile flickered at the corners of Zhuge Liuyun’s mouth. After a long moment, he said, “It’s for her own good.”

Qingfeng pursed his lips. “No matter how unforgettable, with her persistence, even I, an outsider, can’t bear to watch. Every time she leaves, she tells me she’ll never come again. Looking at you, she believes you don’t care for her, and it makes her miserable. She’d be better off not seeing you. But when the time comes, she still insists I bring her. I really don’t know what’s so special about you to make her so devoted.”

Zhuge Liuyun frowned slightly, then after a long pause, lifted his head. “It’s not that I don’t know, it’s just…”

Qingfeng cut him off again. “Don’t tell me you can’t forget Lianxin. I’ve always felt your feelings for her are like a prison of your own making. No one should have to pay for past mistakes with their whole life.”

He paused, then continued, “Liuyun, no matter how much someone loves you, they won’t wait forever. If one day Qianran gives up on you, don’t regret it.”

The candle flickered, its flame bursting softly. After a long while, Zhuge Liuyun rose. “You’re unusually talkative tonight. I think I should go.”

Qingfeng found this funny and burst out laughing. “Zhuge Liuyun, I’m always this talkative—you’re just feeling guilty tonight.” He laughed again.

Zhuge Liuyun paused at the threshold, then stepped out into the night.