At dusk, sunset clouds covered half the sky.

Xie Fanshu stepped on exquisite painted wooden clogs, standing before a large carved mirror trying on a white dress, carefully wrapping a gauze scarf decorated with orchid patterns around her neck. She had always loved Western-style dresses most, thoroughly detesting qipao, always feeling such clothing restricted people, like being tied up. Chongye would laugh at her: “Sister should try the whalebone corsets European women use for binding waists—that’s what you call tied up, binding your waist into two sections!”

She retorted defiantly: “Chongye, you’re so annoying! Do you want me to be like those students from the University of Hong Kong, wearing narrow trouser legs, dressed up like Sai Jinhua?”

From childhood she loved arguing with her brother Chongye, but Chongye never got angry with her.

When Madam Xie walked in, she held an armful of clothes—all finely crafted qipao and dresses—which she dumped unceremoniously on the fine nanmu wood copper-trimmed bed, then sat in a chair to the side, smiling at her daughter: “Look at these I bought. Use whichever ones you can. Choose for yourself.”

Fanshu only glanced at the bed and immediately frowned: “Mother, our school play can’t use such gorgeous clothing. I’m playing a poor female student—I can’t use any of these clothes you bought.”

Madam Xie smiled: “Then how will you dress up?”

Fanshu pouted: “You and Father are going to accompany Grandfather anyway. You won’t have time to watch our play rehearsal, so why ask? I won’t tell you.” Madam Xie smiled: “Alright, stop finding fault here. You clearly know your father and Chongye have been quarreling these past few days, making the house so unsettled—are you going to stick your foot in too?”

Fanshu said: “Father too—if brother wants to enter Nanpu Military Academy, just let him go. Why control him so much? Boys should join the military, temper their heroic spirit.”

Madam Xie fell silent briefly, then smiled slightly after a moment: “Your father naturally has your father’s reasons.”

Fanshu pursed her lips, quite disapproving: “Anyway, you adults always have reasons. If I were brother, whether you liked it or not, I’d happily do what I wanted to do!”

The next afternoon, Mingde Girls’ School auditorium formally staged the play “Song of Everlasting Sorrow” that students had carefully rehearsed for a long time. The script was written by the school’s new Chinese literature teacher Liang Qiu’er. While putting on makeup backstage, Xie Fanshu, playing the female lead, carefully familiarized herself with the script once more. She suddenly looked up and smiled at her best friend Yu Xinping: “Xinping, how can such tragic things exist in this world?”

Devout Christian Yu Xinping was clasping her hands in prayer. She was a pale, thin girl, sitting there quite inconspicuously. But in all of Jinling, who didn’t know that Yu Army Commander-in-Chief Yu Changxuan controlled the Jinling government cabinet with overwhelming power, and Yu Xinping was Yu Changxuan’s only daughter—naturally precious as gold and jade. She went out with great pomp. Usually at school, almost no one dared have contact with Yu Xinping, just like in the past Qing court—who would dare joke and play with the lofty princess?

But Xie Fanshu got along extremely well with Yu Xinping. The two were inseparable at school. Fanshu had warmly invited Xinping to visit her home, but Xinping always shook her head. Of course she never invited Fanshu to play at the Yu family official residence either. Yu Xinping’s personality was extremely withdrawn. Her willingness to perform in this play was entirely due to Fanshu’s encouragement.

Yu Xinping smiled without making a sound.

Fanshu looked toward playwright teacher Liang Qiu’er. Liang Qiu’er smiled: “Such things always exist, it’s just you seventeen or eighteen-year-old children don’t know.”

Just before going on stage, there was sudden commotion backstage. Someone said: “What? The Commander has arrived? Has he sat down already?” Then a teacher specially came to instruct: “Don’t run around at this time—sentries are everywhere outside. Be careful or they’ll arrest you as a revolutionary.” Just as things were chaotic, the noisy voices suddenly seemed strangled, instantly silent. Several uniformed military men walked in, the leader being He Junsen, Director of the Attendants’ Office at the Yu official residence.

The dressing room immediately fell silent. The young students all retreated to the side. He Junsen walked directly before Yu Xinping, respectfully saying: “Miss Xinping, the Commander just heard you’re performing in the school play and is very concerned. He came specially to see.”

Yu Xinping completely changed from her obedience before Fanshu—at this moment she truly seemed like an icy princess, speaking blandly: “I’m only playing a small role. Father needn’t make such a fuss. Please tell Father, Uncle He, to have him go back. Hasn’t he always opposed me attending school?!”

He Junsen smiled: “Miss is speaking in anger again. Miss is the Commander’s precious daughter—how could he not care?”

Yu Xinping said expressionlessly: “If so, tell Father I won’t appear until the second half. Let him wait.”

He Junsen responded “Yes,” then led the guards out. Fanshu quietly glanced toward Yu Xinping. Xinping was also looking at her. Fanshu smiled. Xinping also smiled, her eyes narrowing like two crescent moons. They were like a pair of mischievous sisters.

For quite a while the dressing room had no sound, quiet as could be. Faces unanimously showed expressions from excited to nervous, just because Yu Army Commander-in-Chief was sitting outside. This gratuitously gave the school such face—both teachers and students knew today’s play performance would surely make the newspapers. Everyone had a somewhat stirred-up mood, restlessly wanting to go on stage and perform.

Fanshu lowered her head, holding a powder mirror to apply powder to her face, feeling flustered. She had finally waited for this day, yet still had stage fright. She felt her dress-up today was already impeccable. Even the makeup teacher beside her smiled and said: “Miss Xie is truly beautiful today.”

When performing on stage she naturally gave her all, grasping every frown and smile extremely well. Taking advantage of a performance break, she glanced down at the audience—a mass of black, all people. Guards holding guns stood at the sides of the auditorium chairs. He sat in the front row, face extremely resolute, golden tassels hanging from his military uniform, dazzling under the lights.

She recognized him, having seen him in newspapers.

He suddenly turned his head, bright sharp eyes shooting straight this way. Fanshu’s heart panicked and fluttered. She almost took a wrong step and was half a beat slow, startling the stage manager. Fortunately she reacted quickly, catching up with several steps, placing her hand in the male lead’s hand. Under the blazing stage lights, she still smiled radiantly.

He only watched half before rising and leaving. Even the guards outside withdrew. When she appeared again, the front row seats were empty. She immediately lost her performance energy, inexplicably feeling defeated.

When the play ended, Fanshu took her curtain call and left the stage. She heard people backstage discussing how playwright Liang Qiu’er had been taken away by several guards. Everyone didn’t know what had happened, feeling quite uneasy. Had a play actually violated the government’s bottom line? Fanshu also felt somewhat alarmed, dispirited as she packed up to go home.

Xinping waited for her outside the school auditorium.

Naturally many guards accompanied her. Seeing Fanshu emerge, she waved to her. Fanshu walked over. Xinping’s eyes were red. After a long moment she said: “Sister Fanshu, my mother sent a telegram saying she wants me to go to America at the end of this semester. I can’t bear to leave you.”

When sad, Xinping always liked calling Fanshu “sister,” her thin voice containing much intimacy.

Fanshu smiled: “My father also said when I graduate, he’ll send me to study at an American university.”

Xinping’s eyes immediately brightened: “Really?”

Fanshu nodded. When Xinping left happily surrounded by guards, Fanshu watched her back, suddenly feeling she was a very pitiful child. So this was the Yu family’s only heir—heroic Yu Changxuan had no successor.

As she turned to hail a rickshaw home, someone blocked her—the person blocking her was actually Attendants’ Office Director He Junsen who had come backstage that afternoon. She froze, countless chaotic thoughts instantly flashing through her mind. He Junsen said courteously and politely: “Miss Xie, we’ve been waiting for you here for quite some time.”

At over ten o’clock that night, she had already arrived at Fengtai.

Fengtai was Yu Changxuan’s private residence, extremely heavily guarded. The car drove inside, passing through several courtyards. Until she got out of the car, her feet stepping on the hard asphalt road surface, she still felt she was dreaming. Azalea flowers were planted alongside the driveway, bright red, burning like fire.

He Junsen escorted her all the way upstairs, pushed open the door to reveal a very large bedroom. Bright red brocade curtains hung straight to the floor, embroidered with peonies in gold thread, dazzling to the eyes. Most of the furniture in the room was imported. She walked in stepping on the carpet, her footsteps involuntarily unsteady, even her heart following with waves of unsteadiness. Incense ash burned in the sandalwood burner, the fragrance making her somewhat dizzy.

She sat on the sofa waiting a long time before hearing the door. When Yu Changxuan walked in, he casually took off his military uniform jacket and hung it on the coat rack. When he turned his head, she had already stood up, hands clutching her handbag, head slightly lowered, her whole body stiff.

The room was silent for a long time. His voice was low: “Do you want to call home?”

Her heart beat extremely fast, her tense body trembling involuntarily. She said in a low voice: “My father and mother went to grandfather’s house. They won’t return for many days.”

The bedroom lights weren’t on. His face was hidden in shadow, bland: “I don’t force people against their will.”

She stood silently before him. Behind her, the window brimmed with white moonlight, illuminating her slender waist—the curves exquisite and delicate, like a pipa placed on a gold-lacquered table surface. She raised her head to look at him, smiling lightly with lowered brows—naturally a charming, amorous air between her eyebrows.

Even having prepared herself, when he unbuttoned her clothes she was still very nervous, fingers clutching the bedding tightly, her forehead covered with fine beads of sweat. In his arms she trembled uncontrollably, more like a small fish just out of water, at a loss tumbling in his palm.

Moonlight shone down. Her naked shoulders condensed with warm lustrous light. The girl’s soft body seemed about to melt. He mercilessly increased his force. The pain like tearing her body apart turned her lips deathly pale. Finally she reached out pleadingly to struggle, but it was useless—with one hand he completely controlled her struggling in pain.

When Xie Fanshu returned home it was already midnight.

Afraid the household servants would see her, especially the most capable Mama Wu, she quietly went around the front to the back courtyard. The back garden was surrounded by a ring of swastika railings, thick wisteria vines entwined on the railings, blooming with small flowers. Crystalline dew rolled on the leaves. She took out her key to open the garden gate and quietly walked back to her room.

The next day she got up extremely late. Fortunately it was Sunday. As soon as she came downstairs, she saw Chongye sitting in the living room wearing Nanpu Military Academy’s newly issued uniform—very dashing and spirited. She rushed over and snatched his military cap, wearing it on her own head and spinning in place. She wore a Western-style pleated skirt embroidered with plum blossoms on the hem—spinning made her seem like a heavenly maiden scattering flowers.

Chongye smiled: “Slower, be careful of getting dizzy.”

Only then did she stop. She was indeed dizzy and stumbled. Chongye reached out to steady her. When she stood firm, he withdrew his hand. His features were clear, handsome, and bright. When he smiled, naturally very heroic: “Today’s rare day off—I’ll treat you to Western food at Kiessling’s.”

Fanshu knew he usually lived at school—military academy management was very strict. This time he must have known their father and mother weren’t home and specially rushed back to accompany her. She smiled: “What time must you return?” Chongye said: “I requested five hours’ leave—I just need to return before three in the afternoon.”

Afraid Fengtai would call and she wouldn’t be home, Fanshu smiled: “With so little time, let’s not go out. I still have homework to finish. Will you keep me company?” Chongye smiled: “You’d better not scheme to make me do your math.”

She still wore his military cap on her head, mischievously pulling his hand upstairs. Because she was very disobedient, her studies were usually personally supervised by her father Xie Zaohua, so her books were all in Xie Zaohua’s study. She sat at her father’s desk, first copying ten pages of hairpin-style small regular script daily as her father instructed.

Chongye sat beside her keeping her company, conveniently pulling books from an entire row of glass bookcases to read. Only the leftmost glass bookcase was usually locked, but today for some reason was unlocked. Fanshu had only copied a few lines when she suddenly heard Chongye exclaim “Eh?” She looked up to see Chongye holding a book, his face showing a shocked expression.

She smiled mischievously: “Did you find Father’s ‘Golden Lotus’?”

Chongye glanced at her. She smiled gracefully. He sighed helplessly, but with a smile at the corners of his lips, so even the sigh carried a hint of indulgence. He took out an old photograph from the book. She quickly threw down her brush and rushed over to look. The photo showed only a girl, hair in beautiful twin buns, holding a pot of wintersweet, a clear, cool air between her brows—like pear blossoms on snow.

The first time she saw the girl in the photo, she was simply astonished, involuntarily saying: “So beautiful.”

Chongye, realizing they seemed to have accidentally dug up their father’s privacy, quickly said: “Put it back.” He put the photo back in the book. Fanshu hadn’t looked enough and grabbed his hand, smiling: “Don’t put it away yet. Let me see. Guess—could this be Father’s old lover?”

Chongye said: “Then we definitely must put it away. If Mother finds out, she’ll be furious.” Fanshu snatched the photo in one motion, looked at it again, then put the photo in her pocket. With both hands she turned Chongye’s face, smiling: “Let me see which of us resembles the girl in the photo. Maybe one of us is her child.”

Chongye stiffly pushed her hands away. After a long moment he said: “Stop fooling around.” Fanshu giggled: “How strange—Chongye, you’re actually embarrassed.” Just as she was carrying on like this, Mama Wu’s voice came from outside: “Fanshu, your phone call. I’ve transferred it to your bedroom.”

Mama Wu was the nanny who raised both Fanshu and Chongye, held high status in the Xie family, and always directly called Chongye and Fanshu by their names. The Xie family never treated her as a servant.

Fanshu’s eyes brightened and she ran toward the door. After a few steps she turned back, took off the crooked military cap on her head and placed it back on Chongye’s head. Her pupils were black and bright like a happy little deer: “Chongye, go back to school. I don’t have time to play with you today.”

Chongye froze. Fanshu had already pushed open the door and run out, leaving only a room filled with Channel No. 5 perfume scent—faint, like the fragrance of that tuberose in the vase. He touched his own cheek. Her hand’s warmth still seemed to remain there. He was dazed for quite a while.

The phone call was from Yu Xinping. Fanshu was disappointed to the extreme. Xinping talked on the phone for a long time, finally saying longingly in a soft voice: “Sister Fanshu, if only you were really my sister.”

Fanshu boredly wound the phone cord round and round with her slender fingers. A thought suddenly flashed through her mind—how would Xinping react if she knew about her relationship with Yu Changxuan? Her spine suddenly felt cold, groundless guilt toward Xinping arising in her heart.

Whatever the initial purpose, she was genuinely good to Xinping.

She waited in her bedroom all afternoon. Fengtai never called.

She remembered when she left he was still sleeping. After dressing, she stood by the bed gazing at his resolute face. The thick black sword-like eyebrows inexplicably gave her a soul-stirring feeling. When she turned to leave, she accidentally stepped on his military boots he’d carelessly kicked to the floor. She carefully bent down to straighten them for him, like a gentle wife.

She said to herself in her heart: “This is my man, a great hero.” Her heart immediately filled with infinite joy.

But he didn’t even remember to leave her a phone number. Couldn’t he have his attendant officer find out her home phone number?! So careless. She complained in her heart.

In the blink of an eye, half a month passed.

When Jiangye University had student unrest, she was still sulking at home, naturally knowing nothing about it. Later when Chongye returned from military academy to get clothes, he casually told her the principal had ordered the arrest of several professors leading the disturbance and was going to give a speech at Jiangye University. She immediately perked up.

The principal Chongye mentioned was Yu Changxuan, who concurrently served as Nanpu Military Academy’s principal.

She pulled Chongye to impersonate Jiangye University students to watch his speech. Naturally security was extremely tight. Unfortunately they still couldn’t squeeze into the auditorium. She and Chongye hid outside the auditorium window. Golden sunlight shone on her white cheeks. Her skin was like a peeled hard-boiled egg—smooth and condensed white. Chongye suddenly felt his face flush and heart race.

She suddenly turned her head, smiled and called: “Chongye.” Then stood on tiptoe and kissed his face. The surrounding students all made small jeering sounds. She made his face red with embarrassment. He said quietly: “What are you doing now?”

She propped her arms on the window frame, one hand supporting her cheek as she looked at him, smiling with a lazy, pampered air: “I like you.”

Chongye felt dazzled and disoriented. What awakened him from this daze was a beam of icy gaze. He turned his head to see Yu Changxuan standing on the platform glancing at his face—that gaze actually sharp as a knife or sword. Yu Changxuan paused briefly, turned his head and continued smiling as he gave his speech.

The change was so quick, Chongye even thought he’d just had a hallucination.

Chongye had only requested three hours’ leave—naturally he had to rush back to military academy. Fortunately the speech also ended. She walked alone out of Jiangye University and indeed saw Attendants Director He Junsen standing there waiting for her. Across the street was parked an American Buick automobile, guards standing on all four sides.

When she got in the car, his expression was cold: “Who was that boy?”

She had prepared early, glancing at him sideways while raising her red lip corners, like peach blossom calyxes, smiling: “I’m not telling you.”

He looked at her. She defiantly met his gaze, tilting her head slightly—a very childish gesture: “You’re so busy—why do you still want to control me?” His gaze only swept across her face once, then he suddenly smiled—at first only a faint smile. She became anxious, pouncing to lightly bite his cheek, like a mischievous little fox: “Don’t smile, don’t smile!”

He grabbed her hand with one grip, eyes dark and deep: “You little thing, daring to play such tricks on me.”

At dusk he took her to Kiessling’s for Western food. She chose the place—she loved Kiessling’s butter-braised squab most. When Western desserts were served, the sky had already darkened. Candles were lit in the restaurant, candlelight swaying. She used her fork to take the strawberry decorating his dessert plate, her bright pupils full of smiling meaning: “You have to let me eat this.”

He smiled slightly: “You have them on your own plate.”

She blinked, very playful: “I insist on grabbing yours, making you watch me eat.”

That night she stayed at Fengtai. Of course she first had to call home, saying she was staying at a classmate’s house. Mother was easy to talk to—only Father was extremely strict. But fortunately, Father was still busy at the hospital.

Moonlight splashed like mercury on the thick carpet. When she rose, moonlight shone on her lustrous white shoulders. Her naked shoulders seemed like fragile glazed tiles. Having just dressed, she heard him say blandly: “Move to Fengtai.”

Fanshu turned her head, her eyes showing gentle charm: “No.” Pausing briefly, she smiled and added: “I want you thinking about me all day yet unable to see me. That suits my heart.”

Smile floated on his lips: “Little child.” His tone bland, unable to discern any meaning.

Fanshu only returned home in the morning. Upon arriving home, she heard servants say a classmate named Xinping had called several times. She was utterly exhausted—naturally she returned to her room and immediately fell asleep, sleeping until afternoon. Going downstairs, she passed her father’s study and suddenly heard her father’s voice from the study.

“That photo was clearly in this book—how is it gone? I said this bookcase must not be opened. How could you be so careless!”

Mother said: “I originally wanted to clean for you. If the photo is lost, let it be lost. Eighteen years have passed—what’s the point of keeping it? Seeing it only makes people sad.”

Father’s voice was somewhat sad: “After all, she’s the child’s mother. We should keep a memento.”

She stood outside the door, immediately thunderstruck. Whatever Father and Mother said next, she couldn’t hear. In her ears only a chaotic voice echoed: eighteen years, eighteen years had passed—she was exactly eighteen this year.

Father’s voice came from inside the door again: “Chongye has long known about this. I see he treats Fanshu very well. But Fanshu’s temper worries me.”

Mother sighed softly: “If Chongye marries Fanshu, wouldn’t that be perfect? Still one family.”

Fanshu ran back to her room trembling all over, took out that photograph from her pocket. The girl in the photo holding the wintersweet potted plant was still bright and clear, cool as pear blossoms on snow. Her tears streamed down. She suddenly realized who Father and Mother were talking about.

That afternoon she ran to Fengtai herself. As soon as she entered the bedroom, she threw her handbag carelessly on the floor. Things in the handbag scattered out. She didn’t care, only crying as she threw herself into Yu Changxuan’s arms: “There’s a strong possibility I’m not Father and Mother’s child?”

He smiled: “Then whose child could you be?”

She shook her head: “I don’t know.”

He stroked the hair at her forehead, smiling slightly: “Truly a pitiful child.”

She still cried: “Father, Mother, and Chongye all know, but only I don’t know.” She cried in his arms until she fell asleep. Sleeping hazily until midnight, her arm suddenly hurt sharply. Opening her eyes, she found him standing by the bed in his robe, actually holding that photograph, his face twisted terribly, his palm gripping her arm tightly as if wanting to crush her: “What’s your father’s name?”

She was frightened: “Xie Zaohua.”

“Mother?”

“Bai Liyuan.”

“How old are you this year?”

“Eighteen.”

Yu Changxuan’s hand suddenly released. His complexion was terrible to the extreme. The light shooting from his pupils was almost devouring—terrifying. She even discovered his body was trembling. She sat up from the bed bewildered, reaching out to grab his hand: “What’s wrong with you?”

He violently shook off her hand, turned and fled-like rapidly walked out of the bedroom.

The next morning she hurriedly left Fengtai alone. All along the way she thought about how to explain to Father and Mother—a girl out all night. She thought until her head ached but couldn’t think of a plan. Finally when getting out of the car, she decided: soldiers come, generals block; water comes, earth covers!

As soon as she entered the door, she sensed the atmosphere was wrong. Chongye was actually home. Mama Wu had cried herself into a tearful mess. Chongye’s eye circles were also bright red. He said to her hoarsely: “Fanshu, Father and Mother went out looking for you last night and encountered a car accident…”

She stood there deathly pale, her soul scattered.

Now it was perfect—she didn’t need to rack her brains thinking how to explain her whereabouts last night.

Three days later, before her parents’ funeral was finished, Chongye was actually arrested by the military police. The charge was actually inciting popular sentiment, gathering crowds to make trouble, insisting Chongye was a revolutionary. This was completely a calamity from heaven—if you want to condemn someone, you can always find a pretext!

She was desperate to the extreme, ran to Fengtai to find him, but was blocked by He Junsen leading people. The reason was only one: the Commander is very busy, seeing no one. Later He Junsen personally drove her home. She returned home distraught. Mama Wu stood in the corridor outside the house. Both sides of the corridor had tall white columns. Mama Wu, over fifty years old, was like a withered old branch between the two columns.

She said to Fanshu: “So you provoked them.”

Fanshu looked at Mama Wu distraught. Mama Wu’s gaze revealed deep coldness: “Fanshu, there’s one thing you must know.”

When Fanshu came to Fengtai again, it was at night. If he wouldn’t see her, she wouldn’t leave.

He finally came to the reception room to see her, wearing an iron-gray military uniform, stiff and cold. He didn’t even glance at Xie Fanshu: “Nothing you say is useful. I’ve already signed. Execute him before ten o’clock tomorrow night.”

She gazed fixedly at his back: “If I beg you, can you release Chongye?”

He showed no mercy: “No!”

She stared at him. After a long moment, she suddenly smiled miserably: “You clearly know Chongye isn’t a revolutionary, yet you insist on his life! Are you going to kill everyone around me? Does your execution list include me?”

His figure paused briefly.

Outside the window, white tuberoses bloomed magnificently, spreading down patch by patch. Long stems held tender leaves, flowers crystal clear and elegant, transcendent and refined like fairies, quietly swaying in the night. His face was pale. He said softly: “You go. I never want to see you again.”

The next evening, Fanshu called asking Yu Xinping to come visit her home. Xinping, knowing her family had encountered such great misfortune, quietly rushed over to see her. She indeed saw Fanshu looking haggard, wearing a magnetic blue floral qipao, the qipao hem extending past her ankles, gently swaying. She stood alone before the carved long window, like a withered, fading flower.

Xinping tried to divert her attention: “You never liked wearing qipao before.”

She smiled: “Chongye likes seeing me wear qipao.”

Xinping felt guilty: “In a few days, I’ll help you talk to Father about Brother Chongye’s matter.” She gently shook her head: “No need. I have a way.” Fortunately her spirits weren’t too bad. Xinping kept her company, eating dinner together. The two played piano in the music room for a while. At nine o’clock that night, Fanshu brought Xinping to the small parlor to eat pastries, specially turning on the radio. The two listened to music. Fanshu poured tea for Xinping, suddenly smiling: “Your hair is messy. Let me comb it for you.”

Xinping nodded, obediently holding her teacup and turning her head, drinking tea while talking with her. Fanshu held an ivory comb helping her brush her hair, her slender fingers appearing and disappearing in Xinping’s hair. Xinping inexplicably blushed, saying quietly: “Sister Fanshu, I really like you.”

Fanshu nodded: “I like you too.”

Night gradually deepened. Fanshu finished combing Xinping’s hair. Frail Xinping lay quietly in Fanshu’s arms, no longer breathing.

The study was very quiet.

The standing clock stood to one side of the bookcase, the pendulum only swinging back and forth. Purple jasmine rouge burned in the sandalwood burner, faint fragrance emanating. A green-shaded table lamp was lit on the desk surface, emitting dim light. Thin moonlight was blocked outside the window. The large floor-to-ceiling curtains were completely drawn. Carved stained glass was embedded in the door, glass patterned with various flowers, dazzling to the eyes.

Yu Changxuan sat in the chair before the desk, quietly looking at that photograph in his hand. His pupils were jet black, his profound face hidden in faint shadow. He only felt cold—all around seemed to be vast white frosty cold air, tightly surrounding him, even making breathing extremely difficult.

He still remembered that girl he once treasured beyond measure. On that quiet deep night, moonlight like frost illuminated the ground full of tree shadows. She looked back faintly—her fair beautiful face actually seemed to melt into the frost-white moonlight. Clear eyes and delicate features like a petal of snow-white pear blossom in spring, spiritually beautiful yet透着a trace of faint fragrant cold air.

All these years, he remembered clearly.

He slowly turned the photograph in his hand face-down on the desk surface, his heart in chaos like countless ants gnawing in his heart. A light of pain piercing to the lungs appeared in his eyes. He said in a low voice: “Pingjun, you punish me like this…”

The phone on the desk suddenly rang, the bell piercing. When he picked up the phone, He Junsen’s voice came through: “Commander, Miss Xie’s call.”

He was dazed for a long moment, but still said: “Put it through.”

Soon Xie Fanshu’s voice came through the receiver—bland and calm: “Yu Changxuan, since you’re so ruthless, causing my father and mother’s deaths, I’ll also make you pay the same price!”

He didn’t speak.

Xie Fanshu said: “Xinping is here with me. She’s asleep, very quiet.”

He immediately said angrily: “What did you do to her?!”

She smiled: “I came to tell you one thing—actually you don’t need to worry at all. Back then Ye Pingjun gave birth to a boy. I’m not your daughter.”

As if stepping into empty air, or a fist viciously punching head-on—his body violently shook, breathing became rapid, through gritted teeth: “Xie Fanshu, explain clearly to me—that boy… where is that boy now?!”

The receiver on the other end went silent.

He gripped the receiver tightly, almost going mad: “Xie Fanshu!”

“Changxuan—” She seemed to laugh lightly, quietly calling his name, extremely gentle: “It’s ten o’clock.”

As soon as her words fell, the standing clock placed by the wall made “dong… dong… dong…” sounds. The pendulum swung back and forth. The deep bell sounds slowly echoed in his ears. Each sound seemed to strike heavily on his heart, tearing at his nerves, devastating as withering decay.

His chest heaved violently, his eyes showing desperate, desolate light.

The standing clock quietly finished striking ten times, then everything returned to deathly silence. And the purple jasmine rouge incense burning in the sandalwood burner also burned out.