As night fell, Yuan Ce returned from the military camp to the mansion. After taking a bath to wash away the grime from the training field, he changed into clean casual attire and walked into the inner courtyard.
From a distance, he saw that the door to Jiang Zhiyi’s room was wide open. She sat alone by the window, doing nothing, seemingly having waited for him for quite some time.
The man who could smile unflinchingly before thousands of troops now drew in a cold breath between his teeth. Yuan Ce lowered his head, rubbing his brow before approaching and knocking lightly on the door frame twice.
Jiang Zhiyi sat upright without turning around, her back to him: “Come in.”
Her voice didn’t sound particularly angry, but it was far from happy.
Yuan Ce stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him, and glanced sideways at her expression: “Why are you alone?”
Jiang Zhiyi pressed her lips together: “For what we need to discuss tonight, could anyone else hear it?”
“So should I sit while speaking, stand while speaking, or—” Yuan Ce cleared his throat lightly, looking down at his knees.
“Sit.”
Though she granted him a seat, her tone remained stiff.
Yuan Ce sat down on the couch behind Jiang Zhiyi, looking toward the bronze mirror in front of her, where he could see her lowered eyelashes and lips pressed into a flat line.
After a moment of silence, Yuan Ce’s hand resting on his knee curled into a loose fist: “About what you asked San Qi today—Gao Shi is no longer in this world.”
Hearing the expected answer, Jiang Zhiyi raised her head, looking at him through the bronze mirror: “So my physician couldn’t cure him at all, could he?”
“No.”
“That prescription—you and Master Huang conspired to deceive me?”
“Yes.”
Jiang Zhiyi furrowed her brow: “Why lie to me? You should have known I meant well. If he couldn’t be cured, I would have simply offered words of comfort. I wouldn’t have done anything to you…”
“Besides, at that time, you didn’t know I would bring a physician, let alone Master Huang specifically. I was right there during the examination—how did you manage to conspire right in front of me, treating me like a fool?”
Yuan Ce stared silently into the void.
“Say something,” Jiang Zhiyi urged.
“Because when you arrived—” Yuan Ce looked at her reflection in the mirror, “he was already dead.”
Jiang Zhiyi’s back went cold with a shudder as her eyes slowly widened.
Already dead…
So when Master Huang entered and took the pulse, he was taking the pulse of a dead man?
Because of the awkward situation, the physician had hesitated in his response. In such circumstances, even without Yuan Ce saying anything, as someone frequently exposed to the secrets of nobility, the physician naturally knew what to do…
“So he was…?” Jiang Zhiyi turned around stiffly.
“Killed by me.”
“Why?” Jiang Zhiyi’s eyelashes trembled. “Gao Shi was killed by you, then all the male members of the Zhong family…”
Watching Jiang Zhiyi’s trembling eyelashes, Yuan Ce felt a lump in his throat.
For him, killing was as ordinary as eating a meal, but under her anxious gaze, which seemed unwilling to accept it, it felt as though one more word would frighten her away.
After a long pause, Yuan Ce spoke: “They were also killed by me.”
Jiang Zhiyi’s hand, hidden in the sleeve of her spring robe, tightened slightly.
She remembered he had clearly said Gao Shi was his savior—more precisely, his brother’s savior. But since he had killed Gao Shi, that story of gratitude must also be false.
“After you killed Gao Shi, you went to the academy. Regarding the Zhong family, could it be because…”
“Because one was a traitor, and one was a murderer.”
Yuan Ce’s voice and expression remained calm, as if describing something trivial. Yet the more placid his demeanor, the more it seemed to conceal enormous waves beneath the surface.
Jiang Zhiyi’s lips began to tremble: “So… Shen Yuance didn’t simply die in battle, but was betrayed?”
Yuan Ce nodded.
It was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her head. Despite it being April, Jiang Zhiyi felt an instant chill that made her teeth chatter and her hands and feet turn to ice.
She had spent the entire day wondering what kind of irreconcilable grudge he had against the Zhong family, imagining all sorts of possibilities. This was the answer she had most feared hearing.
Precisely because she had considered this possibility, she hadn’t confronted him angrily today, hadn’t vented her frustration at him, but had simply waited quietly here to ask him properly.
Yet in this moment, she wished his reason had been something she couldn’t forgive, something that would make her want to rage at him.
Before her eyes flashed that carelessly dug lone grave on the desolate mountain. The secret buried beneath that solitary tomb was even more cruel than she had imagined…
A chill spread through Jiang Zhiyi’s heart as she slowly raised her eyes, fixing them firmly on the person before her: “So you took your brother’s place to avenge him.”
The North Qiang people were the chief culprits, so he slaughtered them, cutting a path to the North Qiang royal court and burning their ancestral graves.
Gao Shi was the traitor, so he used the traitor to find the mastermind, then killed the traitor.
The Marquis of Kangle was the mastermind, so he slaughtered all the male members of the Zhong family, leaving none alive.
Yuan Ce looked back at her: “Yes.”
Jiang Zhiyi silently met his gaze for a moment, then suddenly turned away, lowering her head and covering her face with her hands.
Yuan Ce was slightly startled, looking at her bowed neck: “Jiang Zhiyi?”
Receiving no answer, he waited, only to hear low, restrained sobbing.
Yuan Ce’s gaze flickered as he quickly stood and stepped forward, bending down to look at her: “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
Jiang Zhiyi kept her head down and face covered, tears trickling between her fingers as she sobbed without speaking.
Yuan Ce couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d seen her cry. Since she had regained her memory, it was as if she had retreated into a thick cocoon, resuming her role as the aloof princess who didn’t share her heart with others. She hadn’t shed tears in front of him again, not even when she was most angry, frightened, or helpless.
Yuan Ce hesitated behind her, guessing: “I didn’t hide it from just you; I didn’t tell Pei Xueqing either.”
“These matters are safer the fewer people know about them, and there’s no benefit in knowing.”
“If you hadn’t guessed—”
As Yuan Ce spoke, he reached for her hand, but Jiang Zhiyi turned away, refusing his touch.
Yuan Ce frowned, picking her up in one motion and carrying her to the couch. He sat her on his knee and pulled her hands away from her face: “It’s not like I haven’t seen—”
His words stopped at the sight of the alarming tears streaking her face.
Jiang Zhiyi raised her tear-filled eyes to look at him, not seeming to blame him.
In the past, her reasons for crying had been simple. Even if not immediately apparent, she would accuse someone while crying, and as she cried, the answer would reveal itself.
“What’s wrong?” Yuan Ce frowned, using his fingertips to wipe the tears from her cheeks and the corners of her eyes.
Jiang Zhiyi’s tears continued to fall: “I don’t know…”
She truly didn’t know why, only that when she learned what he had been doing during their half-year acquaintance, her heart suddenly ached.
She had thought that after enduring such hardship to take his brother’s place, it was so that he could live in the light.
Not like this, living in even deeper darkness.
“You don’t know?” Yuan Ce stared into her eyes. “You’re not angry that I deceived you?”
Jiang Zhiyi chided through her tears: “Haven’t you deceived me enough times? How can I possibly be angry about each one!”
“If you can’t be angry about all at once, take them one by one slowly. Why cry?”
Jiang Zhiyi looked at him through blurry eyes.
Why cry? Perhaps because when she learned he had deceived her about even more things, she wanted to cry rather than scold him, which meant she probably no longer resented him.
Things in this world, and people in this world, are often not simply black or white. Right and wrong, each person usually has their reasons. What one person sees as right might be wrong in another’s eyes.
He had come to Chang’an bearing the blood debt of his closest kin. For him, the big picture involving life and death took precedence, so naturally, everything he had done to her over the past half year was right.
But for her, knowing she had damaged her brain yet accepting her confused affection, repeatedly delaying and suppressing opportunities for her to recover her memory, deceiving her to bring her to this unfamiliar frontier, even with his enormous burden, it was wrong.
If they were to judge this matter by right and wrong, there would never be a resolution.
So, as Jing Zhe had told her, don’t stay because of soft-heartedness, and don’t leave because of stubbornness. What could settle this matter was not the shifting perspectives of right and wrong, but the unwavering intention of the heart—stay if you like him, leave if you don’t.
Forgiveness comes from love.
Seeing Jiang Zhiyi’s tears wiped away only to be replaced by more, Yuan Ce still couldn’t fathom what she was thinking and clicked his tongue softly: “Jiang Zhiyi, what am I supposed to do with you like this?”
Jiang Zhiyi raised her hand to wipe her tears, suddenly blurting out impulsively: “Take off your clothes and let me see.”
Yuan Ce was taken aback: “See what?”
“Just take them off…”
Yuan Ce blinked, undoing his belt and collar with one hand, removing his outer robe and draping it aside.
Sitting on his lap, Jiang Zhiyi pulled open his inner garment.
Yuan Ce’s brow twitched as he raised his eyes.
Jiang Zhiyi continued crying while struggling to pull his garment to the sides, her fingertips scraping against him.
Yuan Ce tensed his lower abdomen, grabbing her struggling hands and removing his inner garment himself.
With his pale body exposed at close range, Jiang Zhiyi had no thoughts of embarrassment. She lowered her eyes to carefully examine the various scars scattered across the muscles of his chest and back, sobbing: “So many scars, all carved out for revenge…”
Yuan Ce’s gaze shifted slightly, finally seeming to understand why she was crying. After a pause, he said: “…Li Dafeng’s skill was decent. It was done in one go.”
“To carve out so many at once, how could you bear it…” Jiang Zhiyi cried even more heartbrokenly, as if she herself had suffered the injustice.
Yuan Ce looked up with a smile, raising his hand to caress her tear-reddened nose: “How could I not bear it? I can even bear you crying to me.”
“Nonsense. Is my crying more powerful than a knife?”
“How is it not?”
Jiang Zhiyi glared at him before lowering her eyes again. Seeing a particularly fierce, raised scar on his back shoulder, she carefully touched it with her index finger.
Yuan Ce’s breath caught, his muscles tensing as his body became as rigid as hot iron.
Jiang Zhiyi’s fingertip paused as she tilted her head to look at him: “…Does it still hurt?”
“What do you think?” Yuan Ce remained motionless, his exposed upper body as still as if in meditation. “It’s been almost a year and still—”
Jiang Zhiyi suddenly embraced him, lowering her head to place a gentle kiss on that terrible raised scar: “Then I’ll kiss it, and it won’t hurt anymore.”