Song Chuyi burned with fever, confused and disoriented. What caused her to fall ill wasn’t just the terrible news of Lu Chonghua being attacked by sea bandits with her life or death unknown, but also the completely different circumstances of the Lu family in this life compared to the previous one.
Since her rebirth, relying on her experiences from the previous life, she had known who was good and who was bad, known how many matters would develop, and when she should turn the tide. But as more and more things changed due to her rebirth, many of her experiences from the previous life had long since become useless, especially regarding this matter with the Lu family.
She desperately wanted to know why in the previous life the Lu family could still prosper splendidly and magnificently even after losing Zhou Weizhao. If it truly was as she thought… her heart felt ice-cold as she shivered, looking at Zhou Weizhao, unable to utter a single word.
Zhou Weizhao didn’t miss the flash of pain in her eyes.
Song Chuyi herself didn’t know that when she slept at night, she was always restless, often sobbing softly in her sleep. One time when he returned late, he heard her desperate, suppressed weeping. When he woke her and she opened her eyes in confusion, the despair and fear in her eyes were simply overwhelming.
He had tried his best to pull her out of the nightmare. He had always thought he had succeeded. But it wasn’t until that night, seeing Song Chuyi’s terrified expression, that he realized Song Chuyi had only stepped one leg into reality—her other leg was still firmly nailed in that nightmare, unable to break free.
His heart ached. He grasped both her hands with his own, pressed his forehead against Song Chuyi’s, and softened his voice to be extremely gentle: “Don’t be afraid… I’m here with you. Whatever happens, I’ll be with you.”
Song Chuyi’s tears flowed even more urgently and fiercely. The fear that had always accumulated in her heart gushed out with the help of her severe illness and somewhat confused consciousness, enveloping her entire being.
She wanted to say that something was wrong with the Lu family, wanted to say the Lu family was suspicious.
But looking at Zhou Weizhao’s clear eyes—eyes that held only her, clear to the point of being excessive—she suddenly couldn’t say anything at all.
What could she say? Old Master Lu had poured his heart and soul out for Zhou Weizhao, giving him all the manpower he could give, all the protection he could provide. Even First Master Lu, though somewhat absurd and having once entertained the idea of betrothing Lu Chonghua to Zhou Weizhao, also treated Zhou Weizhao well—at least on the surface it appeared good.
From the surface, there wasn’t a single thing wrong with the Lu family.
How could she open her mouth to speak ill of the Lu family to Zhou Weizhao?
Her hesitation was all seen by Zhou Weizhao. Seeing her bewildered and frightened expression, Zhou Weizhao felt as if he saw those two eyes Ah Huang had opened when dying. His hands fell from Song Chuyi’s head to her shoulders, pressing her tightly into his heart.
He knew of her hesitation, her uncertainty. But he couldn’t ask—even if he did ask, given Song Chuyi’s temperament, she wouldn’t tell him.
He still had to take it slowly. One day, he would be able to completely pull Song Chuyi out of that nightmare, then firmly grasp her in his palm and live through this life together with her. One day, their lives would no longer be entangled with that terrifying and unknown nightmare.
Song Chuyi came to her senses, endured the headache, bore with her stuffy nose, and followed Zhou Weizhao’s words to drink some rice porridge. Then, forcing a smile, she told Zhou Weizhao to go rest in the outer quarters.
Nanny Xu and Nanny Xu had mentioned this matter to her many times, always telling her that what a man says with his mouth is one thing, but what he thinks in his heart is probably quite another matter.
That he didn’t bring it up himself showed his good character, but as husband and wife, one couldn’t always rely on the man’s side to yield, compromise, and forbear. One must learn to consider things from each other’s perspective.
She had been unable to understand before and unwilling to think about it. But after hesitating for all these days, she didn’t know if it was because Lu Chonghua’s death had upset her so much she lost her composure, or if her somewhat unclear mind from illness had suddenly caused all her former worries to burst forth—she suddenly mentioned to Zhou Weizhao about him going to rest in the outer quarters.
As soon as her words fell, she saw Zhou Weizhao’s astonished expression mixed with some shock. Then she lowered her eyes to avoid looking at him: “I’ll arrange for someone to attend to you.”
The great hall suddenly became so quiet it was somewhat frightening. After saying this, Song Chuyi felt that her head, which had been about to explode, finally felt somewhat better. She pressed her lips together, suppressed the tears about to gush forth, turned over to lie facing inward, and no longer dared to look at Zhou Weizhao even once.
The two words “magnanimity” were truly too difficult for her. Having said that one sentence, she already felt completely hollowed out. She feared Zhou Weizhao would be angry, yet also feared he wouldn’t be angry. Her heart hung suspended in midair, as unsteady and insecure as if stepping on clouds.
Fortunately, Zhou Weizhao didn’t make her suffer too long. He was silent for a while, then softly asked her: “Xiaoyi, what kind of person am I in your heart?”
Before Song Chuyi could speak, she heard him follow up immediately with: “When have I ever gone back on my word? When have I… ever deceived you?”
He had already completely and utterly held his heart in his hands and offered it to her, yet she seemed unable to see it. This feeling was truly too frustrating and anger-inducing.
Song Chuyi didn’t speak. She also didn’t know what to say.
She knew she shouldn’t doubt Zhou Weizhao’s sincerity, and even less should she prepare countermeasures for him breaking his promise before he had even broken it.
But she was someone who never dared to have complete confidence in things that were too beautiful. Even though Zhou Weizhao had already done well enough, the better he was, the more afraid she became, and the earlier she prepared backup plans for herself for when this goodness was no longer there.
For the first time, Zhou Weizhao felt somewhat angry. He raised his voice and looked at her: “I’ve already done everything I possibly can. Xiaoyi, what else must I do before you’ll trust me?”
The candlelight in the great hall flickered in the wind. Song Chuyi’s face was concealed behind layer upon layer of gauze curtains and dim lamplight, her expression unclear. She actually did trust him—otherwise she wouldn’t have agreed to marry him, wouldn’t have accompanied him all this way until now.
But she didn’t trust herself. She didn’t know what was good about her, what she had to rely on that could make Zhou Weizhao always treat her as well as he did now.
Since she couldn’t guarantee it, it was better not to become accustomed to this unique goodness of his from the start.
The fewer the expectations, the less the disappointment. This was a principle Zhou Weizhao himself had once taught her.
She didn’t reply. The bedchamber became even quieter, to the point of being somewhat suffocating. Song Chuyi clutched the blanket, listening to the howling wind outside the window, feeling unbearably miserable yet also feeling she had brought this upon herself. She didn’t even have the courage to look at Zhou Weizhao once. Every second felt like a year as she held her breath, waiting for Zhou Weizhao to leave in anger.