Chapter Sixty-Four: The Imperial Marriage Decree (6)

In the residence of the Minister of Justice, in Zhang Yu’s room, Gu Qingcheng stood before Zhang Yu, her palms slick with a cold sweat. Zhang Yu still said nothing, merely gazing at her in silence.

Gu Qingcheng remembered the first time she had seen Zhang Yu, four years ago, when she was only sixteen—a delicate age, her every glance brimming with the allure of youth. She had not yet met Wei Zhuang, had just been sold into the Warming Pavilion, had not yet danced the ethereal step that would captivate the city, had not yet become the courtesan of renown.

Yet, among so many women, he had chosen her, and taken her away.

He had said, “Dance for me.”

She had no choice but to oblige; she was but a woman of the pleasure quarters, with no power to choose.

Then he had forced himself upon her. She, who had sold only her art, not her body, naïve and untouched by the ways of the world, believing that her vow to sell art and not her body would shield her from violation. Her innocence was almost pitiable.

He had been the first man in her life—yet he had also been the one to ruin her.

She had once hoped to save enough to buy her freedom, but after that day, she abandoned all such thoughts. Her chastity was lost; what use was freedom then?

She had hated him, once—hated him enough to wish him dead.

Now, standing before him, she felt as if a lifetime had passed.

Zhang Yu rose, his gaze intense but restrained, his voice cold and edged with a hint of darkness. “You have tormented me for four years, punishing me for my mistake. I thought that, once you left me, you would find a better man. But it turns out this man is no better than I. You gave him three years, yet for another woman, he has handed you back to me. Qingcheng, how did your life become so tragic?”

How could it be so tragic?

Gu Qingcheng’s face turned deathly pale. Her hands tightened in her sleeves, but she said nothing.

Watching the pallor on her face, Zhang Yu lowered his head and laughed—a laugh part real, part false. “If you do not wish to marry me, I can refuse Wei Zhuang right now. The choice is not his, but yours.”

Gu Qingcheng’s eyes widened in sudden shock. What did he mean—was he going to go back on his word?

“Wei Zhuang has humiliated you thus. Do you not wish to have your revenge? I give you this chance. Refuse me, and I will refuse him. You will have your vengeance.” Zhang Yu watched her with interest, studying every flicker of emotion on her face.

After a long silence, Gu Qingcheng seemed to have deciphered his intention—or perhaps not. Her voice was soft and low. “If you think I am unworthy compared to the eldest Miss Ye, you may say so directly. There’s no need to humiliate me like this.”

Zhang Yu abruptly seized her waist, pulling her close until she was right before his eyes. The heat in his gaze was overwhelming, leaving Gu Qingcheng at a loss. “I despise you?” he sneered. “You know full well how these four years have tormented me. You know how desperately I have wanted you. How can you say such things, how can you treat me so?”

His passion, his agitation, left her utterly disoriented.

She stared at him, dazed.

“I know you spent three years with Wei Zhuang, yet I still want you. Sometimes I hate myself for this obsession, for loving you so much that I would cast aside my dignity. But your heart has always been with another. Gu Qingcheng, tell me—how can I sever my longing for you, how can I end these feelings?”

Gu Qingcheng was stunned into silence.

Gradually, Zhang Yu’s emotions subsided. He bent close to her ear and spoke just four words: “Return, I will wed you.”

Gu Qingcheng gazed at him in a daze, as if she could not comprehend, and then suddenly laughed—as if a dead tree had blossomed with crimson flowers, as if a barren desert had sprouted green shade. Her laughter was out of place, yet so piercing to the heart. All her life she had wanted only these four words, something so simple. She had always pinned her hopes on another man, never expecting that the one she hated would be the one to say them.

As she laughed, tears spilled down, as large as beans, unstoppable. After all these years, it turned out the one who understood her was him—actually him. It was truly as the saying goes: searching for him a thousand times in the crowd, but at a glance, there he is, where the lantern light is dim.

Zhang Yu held her tightly as she sobbed in his embrace.

Three days later, Gu Qingcheng officially moved into the Ye residence.

Half a month after that, the wedding was imminent.

The Ye residence was celebrating a second marriage. The entire household was adorned with red symbols of joy, crimson lanterns illuminating the night, the whole estate awash in a sea of red.

Tomorrow would be the wedding day. Ye Qianran was secretly anxious, hoping nothing would go wrong.

Nothing must go wrong.

Though Gu Qingcheng had been in the Ye residence for half a month, Ye Qianran had scarcely exchanged a word with her. Whenever they met, she would offer only a reserved greeting, perhaps out of guilt. She did not know how to face Gu Qingcheng, nor what to say. Marriage was a matter for a lifetime, and now she had stepped into a life that was meant for someone else.

Tonight was Gu Qingcheng’s last night in the Ye residence.

June had brought its oppressive heat, and even at night, the air was stifling.

Alone, Ye Qianran walked to the pavilion at the heart of the garden’s lake. She gazed up at the high-hanging full moon, listening to the murmuring of the water. The night breeze skimmed across the lake, bringing a hint of coolness. Moonlight spilled over the tranquil water, the ripples scattering silvery fragments of light. The sound of summer insects drifted faintly to her ears, but no matter how tightly she reached out, she could not grasp the moonlight slipping through her fingers. In her restlessness and unease, a deep loneliness welled up within her, with no one to confide in, no one she could turn to.

Tomorrow would decide her fate, but the power to choose was not hers.

Her fingers brushed a cold jade pendant—milky white, it glowed coolly in the moonlight, filling her with a sense of helplessness.

Liuyun had been gone for five months. In that time, she had received but one letter, containing only a lock of hair and two lines: “If I live, I shall return; if I die, I will long for you always.”

So simple, and yet those words had filled her with sudden courage. But as time passed, even that courage had worn away, leaving only exhaustion, anxiety, and helplessness. She did not know if tomorrow would go smoothly, did not know what consequences her bargain with Wei Zhuang might bring, did not know if she could endure until his return. There were too many uncertainties, too much fear—like walking in the dark, never knowing if the next step would bring her to a cliff’s edge, or a sudden glimmer of hope beyond the willows.

She pressed her forehead, feeling utterly drained.

The sound of water flowed on, and the crape myrtles in the garden bloomed in abundance, their petals dancing in the wind like a purple rain—enchanting and pure beneath the summer night.

It was through this rain of flowers that Gu Qingcheng arrived, alone.

She took a seat opposite Ye Qianran. The stone bench was faintly cool against the skin. In the darkness, the moonlight cast a gentle blue across Gu Qingcheng’s face, making her almost ethereal, while Ye Qianran, hidden in shadow, was unreadable.

It was Gu Qingcheng who spoke first, her voice as cool as the dew of night. “From the first moment I saw you, I knew our fates would be entwined. I just never expected it would be in this way.” She laughed softly, but the laughter could not conceal her bitterness.

Ye Qianran did not move, nor did she speak.

Gu Qingcheng seemed unconcerned whether she replied or not, raising her head to look at the crescent moon. “I met Mr. Wei when I was seventeen. He was handsome and unrestrained, heedless of convention or the judgment of others, living with flair. I saw him at the Warming Pavilion, a beauty in each arm. Yet, at the moment he saw me, he let go of everyone else and kept only me.” At this, she smiled faintly, her beauty veiled in moonlight.

“Much later, I learned he was truly the owner behind the Warming Pavilion, with the madam merely collecting money for him. I had heard of his romantic exploits and thought he was only briefly curious about me, but unexpectedly he gave me special privileges, treating me as a lady of good family, not a courtesan. He said I need not do anything I did not wish to do, need not meet anyone I did not wish to see, need not attend any engagements I disliked. He even instructed the madam to never force me into anything against my will. That night, by candlelight, his handsome face was serious. I thought he loved me. But over time, I realized he was like the wind—formless, rootless, impossible to grasp. He told me he liked me because I was beautiful; he liked beautiful things. He said he would never love anyone. So he did not love me, yet he liked me, and for him that was enough. Until he met you…”

Here Gu Qingcheng looked straight at her, but even at this closeness, she could not make out Ye Qianran’s expression, only the angle of her lowered head.

“He said he would never love anyone, and yet he fell in love with you. He never forced me into anything, but for you, he was willing to sacrifice me. I waited so long for one word from him to make me stay. Even the slightest reluctance and I would have returned, no matter what. But he never spoke it. For you, he was willing to give up everything.”

Having spoken, Gu Qingcheng laughed at herself, her smile tinged with self-mockery. “I have always thought myself exceptional, but fate led me to you. You are my nemesis,” she paused, “and his as well.”

Ye Qianran pressed her lips together, then rose to gaze at the swaying shadows of distant trees. Stars scattered above, the moonlight casting silver on the pines and cypresses. Her voice was clear and cold as a mountain lake. “You say he loves me—how dare you? He does not love me. He only wants to possess me, just as he said himself: he will never love anyone. The reason he gave you up for me is simply that what one cannot have is always more desirable. If our roles were reversed, he would have made the same choice.”

The wind stirred her hair, black as polished jade. She narrowed her eyes. “He wants me only because he cannot have me. He has never lost you, so he does not know the pain of losing you. Say what you will, but do not say he loves me—he loves no one.”

Gu Qingcheng was taken aback.

Such words did not befit a sixteen-year-old girl. They belonged to someone who had endured the sorrows and joys of life, who had seen through the world’s illusions, and yet it was she who spoke them.

It was as if Gu Qingcheng suddenly understood something, though she could not say what it was.

The wind and the water filled her ears, the distant sound of a cold flute mingling with the quiet night. In the moonlit lakeside pavilion, Ye Qianran stood, her silhouette exuding an unspeakable loneliness. After a long silence, Gu Qingcheng rose and asked, “Are you so certain he does not love you because you are desperately trying to avoid something?”

She did not wait for Ye Qianran’s reply, but walked away, crossing the bridge from the heart of the lake.

Beneath the moonlight, her departing figure seemed like that of a fairy, drifting farther and farther away, ethereal and untouched by the mortal world. Yet Ye Qianran’s thoughts, following her retreating form, drifted even farther.

“Are you so certain he does not love you because you are desperately trying to avoid something?”