Chapter Sixty-One: The Bestowal of Marriage (3)

When her words ended, she turned away without the slightest hesitation. Yet at the very moment she turned, Wei Zhuang seized her wrist, pulling her close. His handsome features were devoid of expression, his voice deep and chilling, but tinged with a faint smile. “Isn’t it true you’d do anything for Zhuge Liuyun? If you can’t endure even this small grievance, how can you claim to love him?”

Ye Qianran stared at his impassive face. He gradually released her, letting the distance grow between them, his grip loosening. She reversed her hand, catching hold of his sleeve.

Wei Zhuang offered no resistance, merely awaiting her next move. “Why is it that whenever I think our relationship might improve, you so easily destroy it? You can’t help me—that’s only reasonable. But why must you ensure I know you’re deliberately tormenting me?”

He brushed aside the hair at her temple, a low laugh escaping him. “Because I want to see how far you’ll go for Zhuge Liuyun—do you truly mean ‘at any cost’?”

“What does it matter to you how far I’d go for him?”

“You really don’t know?” Wei Zhuang asked quietly, his gaze full of bewilderment.

Ye Qianran’s heart jolted, the possibility flashing through her mind only to be dismissed. He would never fall in love, as he himself said—he would never marry. Apart from that, she could think of no other motive. “I am much more shallow than you imagine. If you don’t speak, I’ll never understand.”

Wei Zhuang moved closer, step by step, until their shadows overlapped. His cheek brushed hers, his lips resting by her ear. “If a man revolves around a woman day after day, what reason is there besides affection? Are you truly unaware, or are you pretending?”

Ye Qianran instinctively tried to break away, but he encircled her waist with a firm hand. Her slight struggle only made his embrace tighter. “You aren’t repulsed by my feelings, so you haven’t rejected my advances time and again. I thought that was your signal to me, but only today did I realize—I hold no place in your heart at all. If not for your need of me, you’d likely never think of me your entire life.”

Ye Qianran turned her head, attempting to escape, but he bit her earlobe lightly, sending shivers through her. Wei Zhuang’s voice was soft as dew in the night. “I used to hope everything went your way; now I hope nothing does. If I can't have what I want, you shall have none either.” His words were gentle as a lover’s whisper, yet the meaning was cruel as a foe’s curse.

Ye Qianran laughed coldly. “You’re not angry because you love me, but only because you can’t have me. You, sir, are hardly a man of lasting affection, so why pretend to be a romantic?”

Wei Zhuang’s body stiffened for a moment, then he quickly regained composure, his expression just as cold. “Say what you please. I’m merely telling you: if anyone in this world can help you, it’s me. If you don’t come to me, you are doomed to marry Zhang Yu.”

Ye Qianran’s expression didn’t waver; she remained icy. “What do you want, sir? If you wish me to beg, I will beg. If you want me, then when all is accomplished, I will belong to you. Whatever you desire, if it’s within my power, you may take it—so long as you can help me.”

Wei Zhuang gazed at her intently for a long time before uttering a cruel, ruthless reply. “I was joking just now. I actually cannot help you. You’d best return home.” He swayed unsteadily, as if Ye Qianran hadn’t understood his words.

“I can’t help you. Even if I wish I could, this is an imperial edict. No matter my abilities, I am powerless. I merely wanted to test you, knowing you could never accept my terms. I didn’t expect you would.”

Her face suddenly turned ashen, lips twisted in anger—the very look she wore when provoked to kill. She shoved him away with a wild cry, making the surroundings fall silent. Wei Zhuang leapt to her side like a panther, gripping her tightly. She fought desperately, kicking, biting, screaming to vent her fury, despair, and wounded pride. Arching and twisting, she tried to break free of his iron arms. Her heart threatened to explode; his grip was so tight it hurt. His handsome face was pale with tension, his gaze severe and burning. He held her fast, endlessly calling her name. “Qianran, Qianran, don’t—calm yourself.” She cared little for anything now, rage consuming her, intent on destroying him. But then dizziness swept over her; she could not breathe. His arms, filled with helpless hatred and anger, made her tremble. His voice faded, his features blurred, and soon nothing remained before her eyes.

Outside, moonlight poured in, silvering the vermilion corridors. Azure lotuses swayed in the breeze beside the parasol trees. Night clouds hung low. Wei Zhuang sat by the bed, watching Ye Qianran. His hands clenched unconsciously, recalling her words: “Whatever you want, I’ll give, as long as you help me.” If this were the only way to obtain her, why not take it? For her, he would pay any price. The only person he ever wanted—he could not let her slip away, even if she held no place for him in her heart.

Ye Qianran awoke to see him sitting at her bedside, anger surging within her. He had toyed with her so thoroughly—this man, she would never wish to see again. She immediately rolled off the bed, but Wei Zhuang, who had watched with cold detachment, suddenly seized her wrist, pulling her hard. Barefoot, she was pressed onto the table, his body against hers in an intimate pose. Her anger flared as she pushed him with her free hand, but he did not budge. His expression was terrifying, and Ye Qianran was startled, her strength faltering. She had never seen him like this; he was always calm and assured, but now his eyes were burning and cruel, so intense she couldn’t decipher them. Pressed against the table, his closeness was so fierce and heated it frightened her. She stared, stunned, his gaze locked on hers. His voice was deep and almost ominous, as if it took great effort to speak. “I’ll help you escape Zhang Yu.” Joy flooded her heart and she instinctively grabbed his collar. “But you must promise me one thing.” “What is it?” she asked. “Marry me.”

The wind slipped through the half-open window, flickering the dying candle flame. She stared at him in astonishment. “You said you’d never marry.” “That’s my business. I only ask if you agree.” He pressed her, giving her no time to think.

“What difference is there between marrying you and marrying Zhang Yu?” She looked at him, word by word.

“I’ll give you a chance to regret, but with Zhang Yu you have no choice.” His deep gaze lingered on her face, studying every nuance.

Ye Qianran suddenly understood his meaning, but hesitated. He stared her down, his voice low. “I’ll only ask once. You won’t get another chance.” “I agree,” she answered even before he finished.

He looked straight into her eyes, seeing her determination—ready to die and be reborn—but none of it was for him. Wei Zhuang released her and turned away. “Remember what you promised today.”

Ye Qianran moved in front of him, eyes fixed on his. “You won't go back on your word, will you?”

Wei Zhuang didn’t look at her, only gazed into the distance, his tone now light and indifferent, so unlike before. “As long as you don’t.”

The moon climbed high, its pale light spilling through the window, bathing Wei Zhuang as he sat motionless, staring into the shifting night. The crepe myrtles swayed like purple waves, and an occasional night bird’s cry made the silence deeper.

Gu Qingcheng passed through the crepe myrtle trees, past the pond where lotuses fluttered, stepping in the shadow of the parasol leaves. The door was open, but the room was pitch black. She lifted the bead curtain and entered, her trailing skirt whispering softly. Suddenly she was struck, as if by lightning. Wei Zhuang sat unmoving in the moonlight, as though he’d been there for ages, spine turned to stone, oceans to fields.

Her throat tightened, unable to resist moving closer. He looked up at her, lips pressed into a thin line. This proud man, who scorned the world, now bore such desolation. Though she knew it was not for her, her heart twisted nonetheless.

Wei Zhuang regarded her, his gaze faint and gentle. After a long silence, he rose slowly and stood at the window, hands folded behind his back, his silhouette full of loneliness. His voice sounded far away, as if from the edge of night. “I promised someone I’d help her, and I need your assistance.”

Gu Qingcheng’s hands clenched within her sleeves, her heart sinking deep. She wore a calm smile. “What do you mean, sir?”

“Marry Zhang Yu in her stead.”

Gu Qingcheng gripped the table for support, her face drained of color. She gazed at his back—so this was fate.

“Why?” The words drifted gently in the quiet room; she restrained her trembling hands.

“I know Zhang Yu is devoted to you. And this is your chance to escape the fate of a woman of the brothel. You’ll be the eldest daughter of the Ye family, Zhang Yu’s young wife. This place of fleeting pleasures was never meant for you.” His tone was gentle and quiet.

Outside, drifting clouds veiled the full moon, and the light vanished, plunging the earth into darkness.

That face, so beautiful, now radiated coldness inch by inch. “You cannot let her go, yet you can let go of me.”

Wei Zhuang turned to her, his cool gaze taking in her bloodless face. He reached out to touch her cheek. “There’s no happy ending for you if you stay with me. You know better than anyone what kind of man I am. What you want, I cannot give. So leave me.”

Gu Qingcheng covered his hand with hers, then slowly removed it, her voice cold. “You cannot give because you do not love me. But you love her, so you’ll give her whatever she wants. I thought I was the exception in your life, but I am no different from those women you once liked—we are not your final home.”

Wei Zhuang gazed at her, the night concealing their expressions, leaving only the darkness of their eyes. He said, “You don’t have to agree.”

Gu Qingcheng laughed abruptly, the sound stark in the silent night. She stepped back, still cold. “I thought you wouldn’t be so cruel to me.”

“Three years ago, had you not saved me, I would be like any other woman of the brothel—a plaything for the sons of nobles and ministers, called to entertain when pleased, beaten and scolded when not. You changed my fate once, and now you wish to change it again.”

Wei Zhuang approached, lifting her chin to force her gaze. “You think I have no other way besides you? When have you ever seen me not leave myself an escape?”

Gu Qingcheng’s body stiffened, silent. Wei Zhuang smiled softly, withdrawing his hand. “This is your chance to leave the brothel, become a lady of a noble house, a wife of privilege. You once said you and Qianran were equally beautiful, yet worlds apart—she is the moon in the sky, unapproachable; you are the water lotus, easily plucked. Now is your chance to become the moon,” he paused, “and mine as well.”

Gu Qingcheng looked steadily at him. Wei Zhuang continued, “I want your help, for it is the safest way. If you refuse, I have other means—riskier ones, but you know I never fear risk.”

A warm tear slid down Gu Qingcheng’s cheek, wiped away with her sleeve. “Even so, I am not your only choice.”

She could not see Wei Zhuang’s expression, only heard his words, almost a sigh. “No one in this world is anyone’s only choice. Everyone is just one among many, some with more options, some with none.”

He did not bid her farewell, nor offer any tender words—only the cruel truth. His words pierced like needles, sharp and quick, awakening her from both dream and reality. Sometimes she despised his cold, pragmatic nature, yet loved him for that very clarity.

Gu Qingcheng sat by the table, utterly drained.

Outside, the full moon broke through the clouds, shining bright at last.

She would never see the day when the clouds parted.