That infuriating scholar?
Ziqing, caught up with Baili Xiaosheng, had forgotten about Meng Duo’er entirely. The moment the words left her mouth, she caught the dim look in Meng Duo’er’s eyes and instantly regretted it.
How could she have forgotten there was such a lovesick fool sitting right there?
In truth, it wasn’t just Ziqing—nearly everyone wanted to ask.
Where was that infuriating scholar?
Where had he gone all these years?
How had he been living all this time?
Why hadn’t there been a single word from him?
Would he show up this time?
Had he abandoned them all?
The whole room fell into silence. After a long moment, a servant boy’s voice announced from outside the door, “Madam Jinjiao has arrived.”
Madam Jinjiao had come too. She was advanced in years now, barely able to walk—if it weren’t for something truly important, she would never have left the sea.
She’d come after all.
More than anything, she’d probably come to see her son.
Though advanced in age, Madam Jinjiao’s robes were still neat and clean, and she carried herself with a dignified air. She didn’t let any maid support her, walking in on her own with a cane.
Her very first words were, “That infuriating boy still hasn’t come, has he?”
“Beiyue hasn’t arrived yet either. Tomorrow’s the wedding—maybe he’ll show up tomorrow,” Ziqing hurried forward to support her.
Madam Jinjiao let out a long sigh, not knowing what else to say. The older a mother gets, the more she thinks of her child. Yet at this moment, she suddenly turned to look at Meng Duo’er, beckoning her over.
Meng Duo’er forced a smile and, together with Ziqing, helped her to the seat of honor.
“Girl Duo’er, actually… the reason I came today isn’t for him. That heartless thing—let him do as he pleases,” Madam Jinjiao said.
Baili Xiaosheng’s heart tightened, her eyes stinging unexpectedly. She hadn’t expected to still hear someone call her “Girl Duo’er”—she was well into her thirties now, getting old.
“We didn’t come for him either. We came for Xiaosheng’s happy occasion,” Meng Duo’er said with a faint smile. Up close, there were quite a few fine lines at the corners of her eyes now.
Madam Jinjiao reached out and took her hand, gripping it tightly. “Girl Duo’er, this time, I actually came for you.”
Meng Duo’er’s heart lurched, her eyes stinging even more, tears threatening to fall.
“Girl Duo’er, he’s wasted your entire life!” Madam Jinjiao said, her voice choked with emotion. Before coming, she’d made countless inquiries, searched everywhere, but in the end, she couldn’t find her son. She knew he wasn’t coming.
Perhaps he had always been a creature of pure yang energy, heartless by nature—no one in this world could ever hold onto his heart, and if no one could hold his heart, they certainly couldn’t hold onto him either.
It was poor Meng Duo’er, this foolish, lovesick girl, who suffered for it—from fifteen or sixteen years old all the way to her thirties now, still foolishly, stubbornly waiting, wearing herself thin with it.
Tears welled up in Meng Duo’er’s eyes, swirling, but never quite fell. In the end, she didn’t cry at all—instead, she smiled, a sweet smile. “Madam! Don’t go pinning blame on him like that, don’t lay charges against him. What is he, that he could waste my whole life? I never even fancied him in the first place. I just don’t want to marry—being free and unattached, what could be better?”
Everyone fell silent. Meng Duo’er’s laughter rang out with unusual clarity, crisp and bright.
Madam Jinjiao didn’t know what to say either, furrowing her brow as she looked at her, her eyes rimmed with red.
“Oh, Madam, come now, we’re here for Xiaosheng’s wedding. Let’s not talk about such unhappy things. If he’s not coming, then he’s just not coming!” Meng Duo’er comforted her further—the one who should have been comforted was instead comforting everyone else.
This woman who cried so easily was, in truth, the strongest of them all—strong for over a decade now.
“Exactly, that man isn’t even the groom—whether he comes or not doesn’t matter one bit.” Jun Yaotiao, seeing the old lady’s sadness, spoke up with great seriousness. She had no idea who this “scholar” even was.
At this, quite a few people couldn’t help bursting into laughter.
Ziqing laughed, Meng Duo’er laughed, Madam Jinjiao laughed too.
That was true—he wasn’t the groom, so whether he came or not really didn’t matter much! Soon, everyone was chatting and laughing together again.
That night, the entirety of Duku blazed with lights, maids and servants bustling to and fro everywhere. Ziqing and her family had been arranged in a courtyard toward the back mountain, which was quite peaceful and quiet.
Deep in the night, with everyone asleep, a figure slipped across the rooftops. She seemed to be searching for something, going rooftop by rooftop across the entire back courtyard, through all its many wings and chambers, yet finding nothing at all.
Finally, she landed on the highest rooftop, sitting there alone, lips pressed tightly together, tears falling despite herself.
How many years had it been since she’d repeated this gesture?
Searching every rooftop in the world, looking everywhere, and still unable to find her master!
He hadn’t come!
Even now, he still hadn’t come!
She was about to get married, and he still hadn’t shown up!
If he didn’t come, who would drape the red bridal veil over her head? Who would walk her out of her chamber? Who would place her hand in Guxi’s? Who would entrust her, for the rest of her life, to Guxi?
“You terrible man!” Baili Xiaosheng wept, crying so bitterly, so sorrowfully. Everyone cried the night before their wedding, reluctant to part with their parents, their family.
But she was crying because she couldn’t find her master. Fat teardrops kept falling, one after another—she had never cried this hard before. Even back when she’d woken from her coma and remembered everything, only to find he’d left, she hadn’t cried then.
Just then, a figure suddenly leapt over from another rooftop—none other than Meng Duo’er.
Searching the rooftops—it wasn’t only Baili Xiaosheng who had done so.
How badly she too had hoped, hoped that beneath this bright moon, she might suddenly spot him on some rooftop, see him in his flowing white robes, elegant and refined, see his star-bright eyes, see the corner of his mouth curved in that carefree, worldly smile, looking down on everything.
But there was nothing.
She too had found nothing at all.
Meng Duo’er slowly sat down beside Baili Xiaosheng, gently, gently pulling her into an embrace.
“Girl, be good… don’t cry.”
“Girl, tomorrow you’re getting married—you can’t cry anymore. If your eyes swell up, you won’t look pretty.”
“Girl, after tomorrow, you’ll belong to someone else. Your master—well, he’s not the most important thing anymore.”
“Girl… I’ve always thought this: he’s here, he’s always been here, under the same sky, on the same earth… he’s always here. What’s the point in searching for him? What’s the point in waiting for him?” Baili Xiaosheng buried her face in Meng Duo’er’s embrace. She’d never particularly liked this woman, but right now, she didn’t mind her closeness at all. Meng Duo’er didn’t answer her—she simply reached out and held her very, very tightly.
She still had Guxi!
Tomorrow she would officially become someone else’s girl, someone with a proper place to belong!
But Meng Duo’er was still all alone.
This woman, who could still come comfort her now—it turned out this crybaby wasn’t weak at all.
Yet Baili Xiaosheng had no idea that the moment she reached out to embrace Meng Duo’er, a single clear tear had slipped from the corner of Meng Duo’er’s eye.
“Alright, no more crying. Cry any more and your eyes really will swell up—is that fair to Guxi?” Meng Duo’er said earnestly.
Baili Xiaosheng immediately wiped away her tears. “I wasn’t crying! I’m happy! Guxi is the best man in the whole world.”
In truth, she’d never quite known what kind of feelings she held for her master—she couldn’t tell. But she knew very clearly what she felt for Guxi.
That was enough, wasn’t it?