Luo Huaimeng let out a heavy sigh, then closed her eyes.
Although she and the Commander shared no real marital affection, they had nevertheless lived together as husband and wife in name for so many years. To say she felt no sorrow at his passing would be untrue — it was simply that she felt no heart-wrenching, soul-tearing grief.
It was like a person who had often lingered nearby suddenly gone one day, never to return.
“Mother, what do we do now?”
Luo Huaimeng suppressed the melancholy in her heart and said sorrowfully, “The news may not yet be confirmed, so we cannot make too elaborate preparations for the funeral just yet. But the preparations beforehand must still be made, so as not to be caught in a panic when the time comes.”
She looked at Yan Qing and said, “Your current physical condition is not suited for overexertion — let Ling Ai help me with the arrangements.”
Ling Ai quickly nodded. “Second Mistress, please don’t worry. I will do my best.”
Yan Qing knew that if she went to help, Luo Huaimeng would only be more concerned. So she did not press the matter, and instead had Jing Zhi and Murong go to assist Ling Ai.
After Ling Ai had come to the Shi family home, she had spent most of her time reading and knew little about the inner workings of the household. With Jing Zhi there, it would spare her from making unnecessary mistakes.
Ling Ai helped Luo Huaimeng with the funeral preparations and did not return to her own courtyard until very late that night. But the moment she stepped through the door, she found someone sitting inside her room, casually drinking tea, while Yan Zhu stood at that person’s side, gazing at him with a starstruck expression.
Ling Ai instinctively moved to turn around and leave, but was called back.
“Is this not your room? You have a room of your own and yet you won’t return to it — where else would you go?”
Ling Ai took a deep breath before she barely managed to steady her composure. In all this time, Shi Guang had never set foot inside her courtyard — apart from a few words exchanged on their wedding day, they had barely even spoken to each other.
“Is there something you want?” Ling Ai looked at him with a cool, indifferent gaze.
Shi Guang slowly set down his teacup, the corner of his mouth curling up. “You and I are husband and wife in name. It is perfectly natural for me to come here.”
He waved his hand. “You, leave.”
Yan Zhu knew he was addressing her, and unwillingly withdrew. Even as she closed the door, she did not forget to cast a jealous glare at Ling Ai’s back.
Ling Ai was aware of Yan Zhu’s feelings, but paid them no mind. She did not like Shi Guang, so it made no difference to her that others liked him.
As Yan Qing had said, this Yan Zhu was a calculating sort. She had even made underhanded moves against the pregnant Qiu Cao in secret — once deliberately spilling water in front of Qiu Cao’s room door, waiting for it to freeze into ice the next morning so that Qiu Cao would slip and miscarry.
Fortunately, the maid Luo’er — whom the Second Mistress had given her — was very sharp-witted. Having nothing better to do, she kept a close eye on Yan Zhu. After Yan Zhu had poured the water in front of Qiu Cao’s door, Luo’er crept out in the middle of the night and chipped the ice away.
With Luo’er around, Ling Ai had one less thing to worry about. Yan Zhu had not managed to stir up any great trouble, and Qiu Cao’s child was carried safely along.
“Where were you just now?” Shi Guang’s dark eyes burned as he looked at her.
Ling Ai did not know what he was actually trying to do. Facing his question, she had no choice but to answer truthfully. “I was helping the Second Mistress prepare arrangements for the Commander’s funeral.”
Such important news — he must have received it as well. Yet he showed no sign of going to deal with the Commander’s affairs, and somehow found time to be here talking with her.
Ling Ai knew what kind of person Shi Guang was, so she chose her words with care, mentally weighing every sentence before speaking.
“How are the preparations coming along?”
“More or less done.”
“With Yan Qing there, why would they still need you?”
Ling Ai immediately felt inwardly alarmed, though she maintained a perfectly composed expression on the outside.
“Yan Qing is unwell. The Second Mistress told her to rest.”
“Unwell?”
Ling Ai noticed that what clearly showed in Shi Guang’s eyes was concern, not suspicion. So she said, “She’s been running between home and the hospital every day and has caught a chill. The Second Mistress told her to rest and recover, and also to avoid spreading it to others.”
Shi Guang’s burning gaze landed on Ling Ai’s face. He held her calm gaze for three seconds. Seeing that Ling Ai showed no reaction whatsoever, he then curled his lips slightly. “You’ve worked hard.”
With that, he rose from his seat.
Ling Ai looked at him with some bewilderment, unable to understand why he had said such a thing for no apparent reason.
“Your father has passed away — aren’t you grieved?” Ling Ai searched Shi Guang’s expressionless face, unable to find even a trace of sorrow.
Shi Guang paused beside her, his gaze fixed on the door ahead. After a moment, he said in a low voice, “Why should I grieve?”
“He is your father.”
“Ha!” A self-mocking smile rose to Shi Guang’s face. “What kind of father was yours?”
This question of his did not seem to be seeking an answer from Ling Ai.
Instead, he seemed to be talking to himself. “Your father was someone who would give up even his own life for you. My father was precisely the opposite — for the sake of his own interests, he could forfeit my life. I remember when I was small, back when the wars were still being fought, things were far from as peaceful as they are now. I was young and didn’t listen to the adults — I sneaked out to play on my own, and I ended up being kidnapped. The ones who took me were some discharged soldiers, men who had no money and couldn’t even sustain a living. These men thought to demand money from the Commander, but the Commander didn’t want anyone to think he was the kind of person who could be threatened — and so he did nothing.”
Ling Ai stared with some shock at the man beside her, seeing only his profile, wreathed in a shadowy halo of darkness.
“With no one coming for me, those men tormented me — giving me nothing to eat or drink, treating me like a dog to toy with for a day. Later it was my mother who found people to rescue me. By the time I got home, I was so starved I had barely a breath left in me.” Shi Guang recalled the events of his childhood, and not a ripple showed in his eyes. “We siblings, from a young age, were different from other children. Other children could call their fathers ‘Father,’ while we could only call him ‘Commander.’ Think about it — when you call someone the same thing as everyone else day after day, ‘Commander, Commander’ — after a long time, you come to feel that this person is very, very distant from you. He doesn’t seem like a father. He seems more like a lofty, untouchable authority. I envied other children — the ones who could play and laugh with their own fathers, even be scolded and punished by them. But for us, none of that could ever exist in our childhoods. The only one who scolded and educated us was our mother. And the Commander — his days were filled with ten thousand affairs, with no time to spare for our joys and sorrows.”
Shi Guang let out a bitter laugh. “Ling Ai, you grew up sheltered under your father’s protection. But we were taught from the time we were small that we were the Commander’s sons — that in the future we would sit upon the seat of lord of Bei Di, and that for the sake of that position, we had to be excellent and hardworking enough. Not just me — isn’t Shi Ting the same? He plays the fool, seeming to be someone who has no worldly ambitions and neither fights nor seizes — but in truth he is concealing his edge, advancing by an unexpected path. That position — as long as one carries the blood of the Shi family, who wouldn’t want it? You might think I am despicable and ruthless. But I have never thought there was anything wrong with me — because this is the education I received from childhood. In order to realize it, what does it matter to tread through a ground soaked in blood? What does it matter to be cursed by ten thousand people? I don’t care. I don’t care at all.”
Ling Ai listened to Shi Guang say all of this, and a mixture of feelings rose in her heart.
Shi Guang’s childhood was different from hers — though on the surface it looked glorious, inside it was filled with pain she could not imagine. Though she could not feel it as he did, she knew this was not justification for the evil he had done.
“You say Shi Ting is the same as you — but he really isn’t.” Ling Ai said with composure. “I believe the environment he grew up in must have been even worse than yours. You at least had your mother’s shelter as you grew up, but he had to flee to a foreign country to save his life. Your relationship with the Commander was like that of superior and subordinate — but as an illegitimate son, Shi Ting probably wasn’t even looked upon with any regard ordinarily. You say you suffered — but however much you suffered, was it more than him?”
Shi Guang frowned, clearly unable to believe that Ling Ai would speak to him this way.
“You say Shi Ting also wants that position — that is only natural, for he too carries the Shi family name, and he has the right to contend for it.” Ling Ai’s voice grew firmer as she spoke. “But what Shi Ting wants in exchange for that position is peace and prosperity for the nation. Under his governance, the people of Shun Cheng live in peace and security, with doors left unlocked at night. And you — what are you exchanging for it? The blood of innocent people. You lacked a father’s love in your childhood, so should innocent people pay the price for your unhappy childhood? The things you have done — how many people will be left without a father because of you?”
Shi Guang narrowed his eyes, staring coldly at Ling Ai.
Ling Ai met his gaze without flinching. “Am I wrong? Shi Guang, all the wrongs you have done are your own fault — not the Commander’s fault, and certainly not Shi Ting’s fault. Do not burden others with your own mistakes.”
She pointed to the window, where several pine trees stood in a row.
“Those pine trees all grew up in the same environment, yet they have grown to different heights, with different spacing — some facing the sunlight, some facing the shade. The environment matters, but what truly determines the outcome is not those external factors. It is the nature of your own heart.”
When Ling Ai had finished, she ignored Shi Guang’s near-furious expression, turned around, and shut the door.
Bang!
The door closed in front of Shi Guang, sealing out the light from within. He stared in the direction of the door for a long time, until Yan Zhu’s voice came from behind him.
“Second Young Master, the Second Young Mistress must have lost her mind — how dare she speak to the Second Young Master with such disrespect. The Second Young Master’s abilities should not be buried at all. Whatever the Second Young Master wants to do is right.”
Shi Guang turned his head around. His cold, bone-chilling gaze fell upon her.
When Yan Zhu came into contact with such a frigid gaze, she involuntarily took a step back in fright.
“Get out.”
Shi Guang’s voice was not loud, but it was enough to intimidate. Yan Zhu gritted her teeth hard, tears spinning in her eyes, looking utterly aggrieved. “Second Young Master, I only have your best interests at heart! I am different from the Second Young Mistress — she has no room for the Second Young Master in her heart at all, but every thought of mine is devoted to serving the Second Young Master faithfully. Whatever the Second Young Master wants me to do, I would not have a single word of complaint.”
Upon hearing this, Shi Guang suddenly narrowed his eyes, a deep and unfathomable sharpness gleaming at the bottom of his gaze. “Whatever I want you to do — you’ll do it?”