Chapter Seventy-Five: Ultimately, the Heart Remains Unsettled (2)

Returning to his room, the woman lying on the bed was breathing steadily. Wei Zhuang lowered his head and laughed at himself; for all his self-assuredness and supposed charm, he could not keep hold of the woman he loved.

He sat alone in the living room until the east began to pale with the first light of dawn. The distant sound of the morning bell reached him, and only then did he slowly descend the stairs.

The mist had yet to dissipate; the birds had not emerged in search of food, nor had the flowers fully bloomed. The air carried the unique fragrance of mountain leaves and wood, everything shrouded in the haze of beginnings—a haze that stirred the heart.

Leaving Cloud Manor, he walked through rugged thickets. The thick foliage creaked underfoot. Looking up, he saw the vast sky and deep forest, with floating clouds lingering among distant indigo mountains. He took a deep breath, and the unease in his heart faded by half. Wei Zhuang found a smooth and flat stone and sat down, leaning against a towering tree. He felt completely at ease; how long had it been since he’d enjoyed such leisure? In the past, he was always busy with business affairs. After meeting Ye Qianran, his thoughts revolved around her, leaving little time to ponder the meaning of his own bustling life. Others toiled for sustenance or for ideals; he never worried about food nor had lofty aspirations, nor did he need to amass wealth to prove his success. Yet he could never stop, as if only constant activity could affirm his own existence.

He had originally nothing to do with Prince Six. Following him was not for gain, but out of a sense of emptiness. Wealth, women, status—these were easily obtained. He felt he needed to do something to prove he was alive, not merely a walking corpse. So when Yan Qing approached him, he agreed without even considering; what was there to think about? As long as he kept himself busy, it mattered little what he did.

He was a wanderer, and drifting was his destiny.

The sun rose gradually through the woods, its orange glow gentle and beautiful. Birds ventured forth, the first dewdrop of morning slipped from the tips of leaves, and Wei Zhuang’s dark robe was stained with dew. The dry leaves beneath his feet carried the season’s last trace of autumn. He brushed away leaves from his hem and walked out of the thicket.

In the manor, Ye Qianran and Xia Shengsheng stood along the flower path. Last night’s frost had left a thin layer of white across the lush courtyard. Their conversation was intermittent. Xia Shengsheng was a lively woman, her face radiant as the morning sun. She looked at Ye Qianran with curiosity. “I always thought Mr. Wei’s wife was Gu Qingcheng; I never imagined it wasn’t her,” she said, with a hint of disappointment she made no effort to conceal.

Ye Qianran asked calmly, “You wish to meet her?”

“Do you know her?” Xia Shengsheng caught her sleeve in excitement, her face alight with an unusual glow.

“Not really, I’ve merely seen her,” Ye Qianran replied, plucking a leaf from the tree beside her, still serene.

Xia Shengsheng’s enthusiasm faded. “What a pity.” After a pause, she continued, “Rumor has it Gu Qingcheng married Mr. Wei. If that’s not the case, where did she go? I’ve never seen her, such a shame. They say Gu Qingcheng’s beauty could topple a kingdom— is she prettier than you?”

The sunrise touched her face, giving her an innocent, girlish aura. Ye Qianran smiled. She was Wei Zhuang’s wife, while Xia Shengsheng was but a courtesan; yet, facing the legitimate wife, Xia Shengsheng felt no shame, only open and honest candor, unreserved about their respective positions. This made Ye Qianran feel a certain fondness for her. “You admire her, and you hope to meet her?”

Xia Shengsheng looked down at the green leaves among the flowers. “Gu Qingcheng is a legend to us in the brothel. Sadly, I arrived too late to witness her beauty or see her dance that captivated the city. I’ve always wondered about such a woman’s aura, what it was that drew so many noble sons to her, and yet made her willing to stand behind one man.”

Ye Qianran gazed into the distance, where high walls and autumn trees stood, flowers bloomed along the path, and her heart felt as if pierced by something. “She was beautiful—truly beautiful.” After a pause, she asked, “Do you wish to become the next her?”

Xia Shengsheng raised her head and smiled, like a wild rose in full bloom. “I admire her grace, but I don’t wish to be the next her. I want to be the one and only Xia Shengsheng.”

Ye Qianran turned around. Such a dazzling smile, a lift of the brows, with endless charm. She laughed, “You’re right. You’ll never be another Gu Qingcheng. She lacked your resolute spirit; she was far too accepting, too willing to go with the flow.” She paused, “But if not for her, there wouldn’t be the me of today.”

Wei Zhuang entered the manor. Raising his eyes, he saw Ye Qianran and Xia Shengsheng standing in the flower path, chatting and laughing. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Juanbi squatting in the flowerbed, fiercely pulling at a chrysanthemum, muttering under her breath, “What’s there to talk about, what’s so funny? Miss, you’re foolish—she’s here to steal your man, hmph, hmph…” Wei Zhuang heard her indignant complaints and chuckled softly. Juanbi turned around alertly, “Who’s there?” Seeing it was Wei Zhuang, she snorted coldly, disinclined to engage with him.

Wei Zhuang walked over, smiling, “Juanbi, have I ever offended you? Why treat me this way?”

Juanbi rolled her eyes impatiently. “You haven’t offended me, but you’ve wronged our lady. I thought you were a good person, but who knew you’d still indulge in debauchery. The rumors outside aren’t false—I trusted you for nothing.” With that, she ignored Wei Zhuang’s reaction and strode toward Ye Qianran.

Wei Zhuang watched her departing figure, both amused and helpless. To be scolded so early in the morning—truly…

Ye Qianran and Xia Shengsheng finally turned around. Wei Zhuang walked up to Xia Shengsheng. “Let me escort you back.”

Xia Shengsheng nodded lightly to Ye Qianran, took Wei Zhuang’s arm, and left. Ye Qianran turned to the flowers, smiled, and picked one.

On the way, Xia Shengsheng leaned on Wei Zhuang’s arm, her head resting on his shoulder. She laughed, “I always thought your wife would curse me for being shameless, but she’s so generous. You’re a lucky man.”

Wei Zhuang lowered his gaze, his expression unreadable. He replied calmly, “I almost wish she weren’t so generous.”

In the October sky, the wind already carried a biting chill; winter was near.

Yan Qing, clad in azure, entered the Music Bureau. Someone guided him to seek out Wen Qiumei. At the time, Wen Qiumei was sitting in the courtyard washing clothes, water splashing everywhere. She occasionally wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve, surrounded by busy people. Yet she sat alone in a corner, seemingly out of place with the world.

The servant accompanying Yan Qing impatiently kicked the wooden basin, splashing water onto Wen Qiumei’s face. Wen Qiumei looked up, and the servant instantly changed his demeanor, bowing obsequiously. “Sir, is this the person you’re looking for?”

Yan Qing took a gold ingot from his sleeve and handed it to him. “Thank you for your trouble.” The servant, delighted, took the gold and withdrew.

Yan Qing looked down at her from above. “The former Lady Ye, reduced to this? And I hear you’ve lost your music license—the Music Bureau, for all its talk of overseeing court music and dance, is nothing but a government brothel in disguise. How can you endure it?”

Wen Qiumei wiped her hands with her scarf and rose to face him. “What is it you really want to say?”

Yan Qing took out a faded orchid handkerchief and handed it to her. “You belong to him; such a tragic fate is not what you deserve, nor would he bear to see you like this.”

Wen Qiumei accepted the handkerchief, biting her lip.

“This life, you failed him. Since you loved each other so deeply, you shouldn’t leave him so alone. He’s waited for you three years.”

Wen Qiumei suddenly looked up. “What are you implying?”

“You struggle to survive here, living in misery. It’s better to go and join him,” he said, shocking words, yet with utter calm.

Wen Qiumei stared at him, and suddenly understood, quietly laughing. “Your obsession with me is not because your father couldn’t let go, but because you can’t. You’re a stubborn child, unable to tolerate betrayal—once betrayed, only death remains.”

Yan Qing brushed his sleeve. “Say what you like.” He handed Wen Qiumei a small bottle. “I know you still have ties in this world. Rest assured, as long as you go to him in peace, I’ll do my best to protect your daughter.”

Wen Qiumei took the bottle and smiled. “You’re right, Qianzhi is my only concern. But if you have arranged everything for her, then I truly have nothing left to hold me here. You’re right, I owe your father so much; I should go to him. May we not be parted in the next life, and may we be husband and wife then.”

Yan Qing stepped out of the Music Bureau. Looking back, Wen Qiumei remained as she was, unmoving. He looked up at the sky and closed his eyes. “Father, tell me, was this right or wrong?”

But no one answered him.