He endured this torment, forcing himself to make things difficult for her, finding fault at every turn, while she merely lowered her head submissively. In his presence, she only showed fear—fear of him, which made her obedient. What he wanted wasn’t fear, yet fear was all she offered. Occasionally he caught her smiling, but the moment he approached, that smile instantly vanished. When he lost his temper, she only grew more frightened. He truly understood what heartbreak meant, and after heartbreak came a life-threatening emptiness. He tried to fill this void with other people and other matters, but his heart was missing a piece that only she could complete.

16

The summer in Maple Harbor, with its unique terrain facing the sea and backed by mountains, cooled by sea breezes, was a renowned summer retreat. The official residence at Maple Harbor stood at an elevated position. Leaning against the railing to gaze into the distance, one could see endless blue waters dotted with white sails like scattered flowers. A white-winged, black-backed seagull had wandered into the garden and, startled by the approaching figure, flew up in circles. The aide hurried to the back garden where Madam Mu Rong was holding scissors, cutting newly bloomed roses for a vase. Seeing his manner, she knew something was wrong. Assuming it was official business, she turned to Mu Rong Feng with a smile, “See, I was right. Before eight o’clock, there would be a call for you.”

Unexpectedly, the aide approached and said, “Madam, Fourth Miss called and said that the Third Young Mistress has fallen. From her tone, she seemed very anxious.” Madam Mu Rong’s heart tightened. If nothing had happened after the fall, they wouldn’t have called. The consequences didn’t need to be asked. Her only hope was that Wei Yi was young and panicked, overreacting to the situation, making it a false alarm. She quickly put down the scissors and said, “Prepare the car. I’m going back to Shuangqiao.”

By the time she rushed back to Shuangqiao, it was already afternoon. The day was growing late, and the ancient trees surrounding the Shuangqiao Residence made the sky appear even darker. As soon as she went upstairs, several doctors were gathered in the small reception room. Seeing her, they all stood up and said, “Madam.” Looking at their expressions, she already understood most of the situation, so she asked, “How is the situation?”

Among the doctors, Dr. Qin was a recognized authority, and he answered, “We still recommend not moving the patient to avoid increasing blood loss.” Madam Mu Rong nodded, sighed, and said, “I’ll go in and see.”

Though her steps were light, Ren Susu still heard her. Seeing her, she called out, “Mother,” and tried to struggle to rise. She quickly said, “Don’t move.” Tears then fell from Susu’s eyes like broken strings as she sobbed, “I was so careless—I’ve failed Mother’s affection for me.”

Madam Mu Rong held her hand and said, “Good child, you didn’t do it on purpose.” Turning to Wei Yi, she ordered, “Have them remove all the carpets from the stairs.” Wei Yi acknowledged with a sound. Madam Mu Rong patted the back of Susu’s hand, comforting her, “Don’t cry. It’s all my fault for being careless. A few days ago, Wei Yi also tripped there, but I didn’t think to have it removed. It’s all my fault for not being thorough.” Susu’s tears wouldn’t stop. Madam Mu Rong suddenly remembered and asked, “Where is the third son?”

Everyone looked at each other, then called someone from the aide’s room to ask. The answer was, “We still haven’t found the Third Young Master.”

Madam Mu Rong said, “This confused boy! I’ve returned from Maple Harbor, could he have gone to heaven or entered the earth?” Although she was always gentle and gracious with a dignified demeanor, the aide’s room feared her even more than Mu Rong Feng. When she questioned so sternly, the aide immediately responded repeatedly and withdrew to make phone calls. Seeing that Madam Mu Rong had rushed back, he knew the situation must be serious and immediately changed his tone, calling everywhere and speaking frankly: “Help me find Master Lei by all means. The Young Mistress has had an accident, and the Madam has already rushed back.”

This was how they finally found Lei Shaogong. By the time Mu Rong Qingyi rushed back to Shuangqiao, the sky was completely dark. He ran up to the second floor in one breath, through the corridor, but suddenly stopped, standing there hesitating for a moment, and finally walked to the large living room first. Madam Mu Rong was sitting in a recliner, with Wei Yi nestled by her side. Wei Yi’s eyes were red-rimmed, but Madam Mu Rong’s expression revealed nothing. Seeing him, she merely sighed. His face was pale, and he unconsciously took half a step backward. Madam Mu Rong said, “Go see Susu—she’s feeling miserable enough.”

He stood there like a stone statue, motionless, though his fists were tightly clenched. After a long while, he squeezed out words through gritted teeth, “I won’t go.”

Wei Yi cried out, “Third Brother, Sister-in-law didn’t do it on purpose.” Madam Mu Rong looked at him, her eyes showing compassionate understanding, like when he was very young, watching him desperately trying to reach for candy on the table—but couldn’t. Knowing he could never reach it, that kind of maternal love and pity made her eyes mist over with a soft haze. The handsome young gentleman standing before her was, in his mother’s heart, still just a very small child. She said, “Silly child, at this time, you must go see her no matter what. Even if you don’t say anything, she needs to know you’re there.”

He turned his face away, still adamant, “I won’t go.”

Wei Yi was confused by him and turned to look at Madam Mu Rong. Madam Mu Rong sighed softly and said, “With your temperament, I can’t persuade you. Your father has beaten you nearly to death several times and still couldn’t bend you—in your lifetime, sooner or later you’ll suffer for this. Third son, I’m doing this for both you and Susu. Do you refuse to see her? She is most miserable now, and if you don’t go, she will surely think you blame her. Do you want to see Susu heartbroken?”

He remained silent for a long time before finally turning to walk out. When he reached the door of the room, he involuntarily stopped. A light was on in the corridor. Though the weather was hot, the lamplight seemed to burn. He stood there as if bewitched, surrounded by complete silence. Despite straining his ears to the limit, he couldn’t hear any sound from her, not even her breathing, which would have been enough. But he couldn’t hear anything. Separated by just one door, how could he hear? Just one door, yet it seemed to separate entire worlds—a world he couldn’t step into, a world he surprisingly lacked the courage to enter.

Dr. Qin opened the door and came out, seeing him, he called out, “Third Young Master.”

Susu had been exhausted and was drifting in and out of consciousness when she heard this. She opened her eyes urgently. The nurse quickly bent down to wipe the sweat from her forehead and asked, “Would you like some water?” She silently moved her lips. No, no, she didn’t want water. She wanted… no… she didn’t want… She timidly grabbed the nurse’s hand, her voice barely audible, “Don’t… don’t let him in.”

The nurse curiously looked back. He had already stepped inside and was standing at the door. Hearing her say this, the color instantly drained from his face, making him appear as ghastly as dead ashes. She didn’t dare look at him at all, just tightly clutching the lace on the corner of the quilt, as if he were some terrible beast. He finally turned and left. His steps were initially heavy as if dragging lead, but they grew increasingly urgent and rapid, rushing like the wind around the corridor corner to the study, forcefully slamming the door. The door made a loud “bang,” creating a humming echo in the corridor, and also causing a large teardrop to silently fall from the corner of her eye.

She slept fitfully until midnight but woke up in pain. The nurse asked again, “Is it very painful? Or do you need something?” The physical pain was almost insignificant compared to the pain in her heart. What did she want… what did she want… She tossed and turned, covered in cold sweat… What did she want… She wanted something unattainably extravagant… So she could only humbly and consciously not want it… Only by not wanting could she avoid losing again, because she had never truly possessed it in the first place, so she would never lose it again. Losing was so desperate, desperate to the point of having one’s heart carved out alive, making one wish for death. She had already lost her heart and had no strength to bear his blame. He was angry, so angry. He might not have liked this child, but it was still her fault. She had been so careless, falling on the stairs… She didn’t want… It would be best never to face him.

Madam Mu Rong always rose very early. She first went to see Susu, then walked to the study. The study was originally a very large suite. She went to the rest area and saw Mu Rong Qingyi sleeping fully clothed on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, facing inward and motionless. She sighed, sat down on the edge of the bed, and said softly, “Third son, you should go see Susu. I can see you can’t let her go.”

Mu Rong Qingyi suddenly turned around to face her, staring directly at her, “I can let her go—I don’t want her anymore.”

Madam Mu Rong said gently, “Good child, this is not the time to speak out of anger. She didn’t fall on purpose. She feels worse than anyone.”

He threw off the blanket and sat up, his lips twitching slightly, but his voice was as resolute as iron, “Anyway, I don’t want her anymore.”

Madam Mu Rong looked at him quietly and couldn’t help sighing deeply again, “You keep saying you don’t want her anymore, but what about your heart?”

He looked at the morning sun shining through the window. The sunlight was pale gold, seeming to gild everything it touched, but dust floated within that gold—countless floating specks like countless clusters of sharp needle points, piercing his heart densely and mercilessly, unavoidable, suffocating, like the death throes of a dying man. He clenched his fists tightly. Her voice seemed to echo in his ears again. She said, “Don’t let him in.”

She didn’t love him. Even at what he thought was her most helpless and painful moment, she preferred to face it alone rather than with him. She didn’t love him. She didn’t want him… He forced out the words bitterly, “I don’t have her in my heart—I don’t want her anymore.”

Madam Mu Rong was silent for a long time before finally saying, “In my opinion, let’s wait until Susu recovers to talk about this. Such confused words shouldn’t be spoken again, lest they hurt her heart.”

He turned his head to look out the window. Ginkgo trees with countless emerald-green little fans swayed in the morning breeze, like thousands upon thousands of small hands clapping intermittently. The shade of the trees was like water, cicadas called incessantly, making one’s heartburn like raging fire.

The wind blew, causing a rustling sound in the forest, bringing the coolness of autumn. Looking from the terrace, ginkgo leaves fell fluttering like rainfall. A golden carpet spread out, scattering and flying about, and fallen leaves lay thick on the steps. A leaf slowly floated down onto the terrace railing, its veins still clear, yet it had already fallen, crushed to mud and dust. Wei Yi walked over, holding a newly opened white chrysanthemum flower upside down in her hand, lightly tapping Susu’s shoulder, “Third Sister-in-law, the weather is nice today, and it’s the Mid-Autumn Festival. Let’s go out for crab.”

Susu said, “We have some in the kitchen.”

Wei Yi pouted and said, “I’m truly tired of being at home. Let’s go eat at a restaurant.”

Susu gently shook her head and said, “I don’t want to go.”

Since her illness, she had been melancholy. Though she had never been fond of excitement before, she now spoke even less. Wei Yi only felt that her temperament had become increasingly quiet. When she occasionally raised her eyes, her gaze always fell on something distant. Wei Yi was naturally a very lively person, but seeing her like this, she couldn’t bring herself to be coquettish. Noticing the book Susu had casually placed on the tea table, she said, “The most diligent reader at home, besides Father, is Third Sister-in-law. You’ve probably read quite a few of those ten thousand books in the study.”

Susu said, “I’m just passing the time. How could I compare to Father?”

Wei Yi saw that her expression remained indifferent, which made her feel unhappy too. After chatting with her for a while, she went downstairs to the back courtyard where Madam Mu Rong was standing by the pond feeding the koi. Wei Yi watched the colorful fish in the emerald water competing for food, thought for a moment, and couldn’t help saying to Madam Mu Rong, “I think Third Brother is wrong. Since he married his Third Sister-in-law, he should be wholehearted. Look at how heartless he is now, making Third Sister-in-law sad.”

Madam Mu Rong carefully pinched the fish food and said, “What are you standing up for today?” Wei Yi said, “I saw Miss Ye yesterday, seductive like a spider spirit, nowhere near as beautiful as Third Sister-in-law. I just don’t understand how Third Brother could like her and even let her parade around in public.”

Madam Mu Rong sighed and said, “Your Third Brother is a fool.”

Wei Yi said, “Indeed, I think he’s bewitched.”

Following her hometown custom, Susu went to her uncle’s wife’s home to deliver Mid-Autumn Festival gifts. On her way back, passing near the alley where she used to live, she saw the familiar street and, after thinking for a moment, told the driver, “Drive around to Three Views Alley. I want to see my old house.” The driver drove to the entrance of the alley, stopped the car, and said, “Young Mistress, let me accompany you inside.” Susu had never wanted servants to follow her, so she said, “No need. I’ll just look from outside.” The driver acknowledged and stood by the car waiting for her.

In the afternoon, the alley was quiet. The usually noisy children were nowhere to be seen. The sky was gloomy, and the wind blowing in her face was cold as if it might rain. The good weather from the morning had changed in an instant.

From a distance, the autumn begonias under the fence were in full bloom. On the fence, the green vines of morning glories meandered, interspersed with one or two half-withered blue flowers. The yard was kept very neat. She thought the house must have been rented out again. She had lived in this house for many years, and because the landlady was extremely kind, even though the house was old and small, it had always felt like home to her.

Standing in the wind, she didn’t feel cold. After standing there for a long time, she heard the door creak open, and a tiny little girl, about one-year-old, stumbled out. Her mother followed and picked her up, complaining, “Gone in the blink of an eye.” Looking up and seeing Susu, she curiously examined her. Susu saw she was an ordinary young woman with a round face, looking quite friendly. Though her clothes weren’t fancy, when she smiled, her features showed a pleasant serenity.

A desolate smile tugged at the corner of Susu’s lips. As a young girl with dreams, she had thought that such tranquility would be her whole life—marriage, children, aging, illness, the ordinary joys and sorrows of common people. Now it had all become an illusion.

The driver, worried, finally came looking for her. She returned to the car, just looking out at the streets through the window. Such a bustling secular world, but separated from her by a pane of glass. As the car was about to leave the city, in the distance at the intersection, she could see the black asphalt road that was the private road to the official residence. She said to the driver, “Please turn around. I want to visit a friend.”

She went to Mu Lan’s home but found no one there. Mrs. Fang was extremely polite, saying, “You’re an honored guest who rarely visits. Today is really unfortunate timing.” As she was leaving, she happened to encounter a car stopping at the entrance, with a license plate she didn’t recognize. Mu Lan got out of the car, saw her, and was pleased, “Why are you here?” She took her hand and blurted out, “You’ve lost weight.”

Susu forced a smile and said, “When I used to dance, I was always worried about my weight. Now that I don’t dance anymore, I’ve lost weight.” Turning her face, she saw someone getting out of the car—it was Zhang Mingshu. Before she could react, Zhang Mingshu was already standing there stunned, as if struck by lightning, staring straight at her. Mu Lan hadn’t noticed and said, “Standing here looks silly. The house is a mess, and I’m embarrassed to invite you in to sit. Let’s go out for tea instead.”

Not having seen Mu Lan for many days, Mu Lan naturally had a lot to say, calling for Rain Front tea while they chatted. Mu Lan said, “The tea here is just okay, but the pastries are good. Look at this thousand-layer pastry, how authentic it is.” Susu said, “This tea doesn’t seem like Rain Front, it’s more like Before the Rains.” Mu Lan laughed and said, “Your palate has improved.” With such a casual remark, Susu felt it was a rare tone to hear, and finally smiled faintly. Seeing Zhang Mingshu across from her just silently drinking tea, she asked, “Does Mr. Zhang still often go to see ballet?”

Mu Lan answered, “He often goes to support performances.” She then talked about interesting stories from the troupe. Susu listened with nostalgic yearning, “Mm, I want to go see everyone.” Mu Lan was in a good mood and smiled mischievously, “That would be most welcome, but I’m afraid it would be a grand occasion again, making the director nervous to death.” Susu replied, “Next time when I’m free, I’ll go alone without letting anyone know.”

After talking for two hours, mindful of the Mid-Autumn Festival and the small family banquet at home that evening, reluctant as she was, Susu had to leave. By the time she returned home, it was already dusk. Due to the fine drizzle, the dense black outlines of the trees gradually blurred. The house was brightly lit with servants coming and going. There were no outsiders at the family banquet. Jin Rui and his wife brought their children, instantly making the atmosphere lively. Mu Rong Feng was also unusually relaxed, playing with his grandchildren. Mu Rong Qingyi was the last to return. Because it was a festival, Madam Mu Rong, afraid that Mu Rong Feng would get angry, quickly said, “Let’s eat now.”

The children were also lively when eating. Madam Mu Rong said, “When they were young, we taught them not to speak while eating, and they all listened. Now that they’re older, they’ve become less disciplined.” Mu Rong Feng said, “Their nature is lively. Why make them as dull as adults?” Madam Mu Rong said, “You’ve always indulged them. When you see them, you become soft-hearted. It’s strange, that Jin Rui and Wei Yi are one thing, but especially with the third son, you were so strict with him from a young age. I never would have thought you would now be so indulgent with them.” The smallest boy, Jie Ru, said in a crisp voice, “Grandfather is the best, Grandfather is soft-hearted, I like Grandfather the most.” This made the whole family laugh. Susu had also been smiling, but turning her face, she suddenly saw Mu Rong Qingyi looking at her. That gaze caused the smile on her lips to silently freeze, the corners of her mouth gradually turning downward, curving into a helpless arc.

17

As usual, he left after dinner. Madam Mu Rong, afraid Susu would be upset, specifically called her over to talk: “Susu, don’t take it to heart. He has his difficulties outside, and it’s rare for you to be so understanding of him.” Susu softly responded with a “Yes.” Madam Mu Rong held her hand and said gently, “The third son just talks tough, but in his heart, he values you the most—don’t mind his foolishness, I’ll scold him later. I can see something’s on your mind, but you’re unwilling to speak of it. Are you blaming him?” Susu shook her head gently and said, “I don’t blame him.”

Madam Mu Rong said, “He’s been unhappy lately, but you don’t need to always give in to him. What can’t be said between husband and wife? I think you should talk with the third son. As a mother, this is as far as I can go. Seeing you two children at odds like this makes me most upset.”

Susu lowered her head and said softly, “It’s all my fault, making Mother worry.”

Madam Mu Rong sighed, patted her hand, and said, “Good child, listen to Mother, talk to him. How can husband and wife hold grudges overnight? Whatever the issue, it will be better once it’s discussed.”

With matters weighing on her mind, Susu’s expression was inevitably distracted. Mu Lan pressed a spoon against the back of her hand, startling her. Mu Lan smiled and asked, “What are you thinking about? You’re so lost in thought.” Susu gathered herself and said, “I wasn’t thinking of anything. You called me out today, saying you had something to tell me?” Mu Lan’s face reddened slightly and said, “Susu, there’s something… please don’t blame me.” Susu was puzzled and asked, “What is it exactly?” Mu Lan said, “I know he—originally liked you.”

For a moment, Susu was dazed, remembering those three pinwheels. It was just a second, but it brought back bitter pain. He had been so good to her, but her heart could no longer accommodate it—that person was so domineering, tormenting her endlessly like a dream with bitter resentment. In her heart, it was him, the one who had so tyrannically taken everything from her. A vow of love unto death had ended her extravagant hopes, but it had all been a mistake. She had lost her heart, lost everything, only to be discarded by him like an old shoe.

Seeing her distracted expression, Mu Lan forced a smile and said, “Let’s go to the silk shop to look at fabrics.”

As they left the silk shop, Susu inadvertently noticed a car parked by the street, which made her pause. The aide in the car saw her looking and knew she had seen, so he reluctantly got out of the car and said, “Young Mistress.” Though she thought it strange, she didn’t think much of it. The aide felt guilty and quickly said, “The Third Young Master is at Shuangqiao. We came out for other matters.”

With this explanation, Susu gradually understood. She nodded with an “Mm,” said goodbye to Mu Lan, and got in her car to leave.

That evening, Mu Rong Qingyi rarely came home for dinner. Madam Mu Rong was accompanying Mu Rong Feng to attend an official banquet, so only Wei Yi was at home. The spacious dining room made the three people seem cold and lonely. Wei Yi tried hard to find topics to discuss and asked, “Third Brother, what have you been busy with lately?” Mu Rong Qingyi said, “Just official business.” He glanced at Susu, seeing her with the same expression as usual, and inexplicably felt bitter and irritated. The pair of gold-inlaid ivory chopsticks in his hand seemed to have grown thorns, making them difficult to hold, almost to the point of wanting to throw them down. She was so indifferent to him, not even willing to ask a single question, not even willing to pretend to care.

After dinner, Susu went to the study to read. A volume of Song dynasty poetry, just scattered sentences: “Eight looms, who knows whose poem is this palindrome? Weaving a piece of desolate meaning, reading line by line, weary and speechless, unable to bear further thought. Double flowers, double leaves, and double branches… unable to bear further thought, a thousand gold to buy a rhapsody, how could one look back?” She had long lost her courage; today’s encounter was merely the final reality she had to face. She forcibly held back tears in her eyes, as humble and faint as the lightest dust. What right did she have to question him? She had known from the start that his interest in her was merely infatuation with her beauty, evident from his initial forceful taking.

She endured until midnight before returning to the bedroom. Only one-night lamp was on in the room, casting a dim light. She sat down gently on the couch. He suddenly turned over and sat up, and only then did she realize he had been awake all along. Seeing a cup of tea on the bedside table, she reached for it, but it had already gone cold. She hesitated, put it back down, and finally stammered, “I… I’ll bring a cup of hot tea.”

There was a certain stiffness in his voice as he said, “No need.”

She suddenly felt weary and stepped back to sit down, like a snail wishing to curl back into its shell, but she didn’t even have a shell as fragile as a snail’s.

He stared at her and suddenly asked, “Why don’t you ask?”

Her voice was barely audible, “Ask what?” What did he want her to ask? Ask why he didn’t come home at night. Ask with whom he spent each spring night. The names she had inadvertently heard in the idle gossip of friends and relatives? Her tears had long dried up, and he still wanted her to ask what? Outside the window came the sound of rustling wind and rain. Citywide wind and rain nearing the Double Ninth Festival, even the heavens were unwilling to be kind.

Her silhouette in the lamplight was so thin and frail that it caused pain in one’s heart. Almost like a nightmare, he reached out his hand, but she instinctively shrank back slightly. The pain in his heart instantly flared like oil thrown into fire, “boom” spreading in all directions, crushing everything and igniting the last remnants of hatred.

He gave a cold laugh and said, “Today last year, you asked me to find the child.” She stared at him wide-eyed, the most untouchable scar in her heart suddenly torn open by him, bleeding painfully, pulling at all her internal organs, leaving her no room to breathe. The dark look in his eyes suddenly thrust before her, “I’ll tell you now, the child is dead.”

She trembled all over, with only enough strength left to tightly grip the cold carved flowers on the edge of the couch. Her lips quivered, but she couldn’t utter a word. Yet he still wouldn’t let her go, “That child died last year. In this lifetime, you will never see him again.” She clutched her collar tightly with one hand as if only this way could she struggle for air to breathe. His lips curved into a strange smile as he watched her tears burst forth as if they were the blooming of victorious flowers.

She no longer dared to endure. Those tears seemed to flow not from her eyes but as hot blood from her heart. She raised her face, weakly grabbing his sleeve as if making a final plea. But he looked at her with resolute pain, watching until she retreated in despair. Her hand touched the cold porcelain, and in her frantic despair, she grabbed that cold object and threw it at him. This devil! He was a devil!

He tilted his head to avoid it, and the famille-rose vase shattered into pieces. Immediately after, he slapped her, the sweet, metallic pain instantly occupying all her senses, and her ears filled with a buzzing sound. She dizzily fell onto the soft couch, instinctively covering her cheek. He grabbed her with one hand, and she stumbled into his embrace. His eyes were frantic and desperate like a dying beast, and he wanted her to accompany him in death!

She was like a bird falling into a cage, frantically tearing at her feathers. She grabbed whatever she could find and threw it at him. The table lamp fell to the floor with a dull sound. She stepped on the broken pieces of the vase, her slipper flying off, the sharp edges cutting into her foot with immense pain. Crimson blood seeped into the carpet, but she didn’t feel the pain; the pain in her heart had long exceeded everything else. But he saw that blooming blood lotus and suddenly released her, retreating far away, his eyes showing only profound sorrow that she couldn’t understand.

She was gasping for breath. He lowered his eyes to the faint mark on his arm, where she had bitten him last year, biting so deep and hard. Even now, the scar remains.

He said, “Tomorrow I’ll talk to Father—we’ll divorce.”

Summoning all her strength, she raised her face, forcefully suppressing her breathing. He finally didn’t want her anymore. Serving someone with beauty, how could it last long? Infatuated with beauty, enamored for a moment, how could the infatuation last a lifetime? This face had easily ruined her life. She even revealed a faint smile. From the first day they met, she knew she couldn’t last long in his world.

Madam Mu Rong heard that Mu Rong Feng was losing his temper in the study. Afraid that things would become tense, she hurried over. She heard Mu Rong Feng saying, “Tell me, how has Susu wronged you?” Mu Rong Qingyi stood in front of the desk, head lowered, silent. Mu Rong Feng said, “Now you want a divorce. What did I ask you back then? Marriage is a serious matter, not to be taken lightly. You said yourself that you had thought it through. How is it that not even a year has passed, and you’ve changed your mind? You’re tiring of the old for the new, bullying others with your power!” Seeing his voice getting louder, and fearing her son would be at a disadvantage, Madam Mu Rong quickly said, “The third son is indeed wrong, but there’s no need to be angry with him. I’ll discipline him.”

Mu Rong Feng said, “It’s because you’ve indulged him since he was young, shaping him into this frivolous person now. Look at him, he came to me asking for a divorce. If word gets out, won’t it be the biggest joke?”

Hearing his severe tone, which also included criticism of herself, Madam Mu Rong knew he was truly angry. She softened her voice and said, “The third son is indeed absurd. Playing around outside is one thing, but he should know his limits. From what I see, Susu doesn’t seem to lack tolerance. Why must you divorce? Are you deliberately trying to embarrass us?”

Mu Rong Qingyi, seeing his mother’s displeased expression, understood her veiled criticism, but remained silent. Sure enough, Mu Rong Feng snorted and said, “Don’t use the child’s matter to make these barbed remarks.”

Madam Mu Rong said, “What did I say? You’re so guilty.”

Mu Rong Feng said, “What do I have to feel guilty about? Every time I discipline him, you defend him indiscriminately. I want to see how far you’ll spoil him.”

Madam Mu Rong said, “His nonsense today is just like father, like son.” This was too blatant, and Mu Rong Qingyi quickly called out, “Mother!” But Madam Mu Rong raised her face, slowly revealing her characteristically gracious and peaceful smile. Mu Rong Feng was furious but looked at the hanging scroll of his calligraphy with the characters “Calm and Quiet,” his thoughts surging, trying hard to endure. Mu Rong Qingyi heard his heavy, rapid breathing gradually calming down. Finally, he shifted his gaze and stared at Mu Rong Qingyi, saying, “You are so useless, from now on I won’t bother with your personal affairs. Divorce is impossible. If you don’t want to be with her, just have her move out to live elsewhere.”

Mu Rong Qingyi still lowered his head without speaking. Mu Rong Feng slapped the table, making the pen holder and inkstone slightly jump, “Get out of my sight!”

He retreated from the study, and Madam Mu Rong also walked out. Mu Rong Qingyi said, “Mom, don’t take it to heart. Father is unhappy with work matters, so he’s just finding some joy elsewhere.” Madam Mu Rong stared at him and said, “Third son, do you want to separate from Susu?” Mu Rong Qingyi turned his head away, looking at the empty corridor. An aide carrying a large stack of official documents walked by, distantly hearing the faint sound of a telephone ringing in the duty room, so far away it seemed like another world.

He said, “Yes—I don’t want to see her again.”

The house was located near the suburbs of Wu Chi, not far from Shuangqiao Residence. It was originally a new home acquired for Mu Rong Qingyi when he got married, but because Madam Mu Rong liked having her children nearby, Mu Rong Qingyi and Susu had never moved in. On a rare clear night in autumn, the moonlight was as cool as water, reflecting on the rustling withered branches and leaves in the lotus pond. She suddenly remembered, remembered that autumn night when he pointed out a pond of emerald lotuses to her, crowded together like jade canopies, lotus flowers standing tall, pale white and light pink bathing in the moonlit water. In the flowing lantern light, the water and sky reflected, making the flowers and leaves appear like brocade. That was the captivating beauty preserved by hot spring water, unworldly and pure, surpassing nature’s craft, thus incurring jealousy.

Autumn begonias had bloomed at the foot of the stone steps, timidly extending a branch, seemingly too frail to withstand the wind. In a few days, autumn grass would also grow at the foot of these steps. The Cassia palace longs in sorrow, forgetting spring; golden dust rises in autumn in the four rooms. Night hangs a bright mirror in the blue sky, only illuminating the person in the long palace. This moonlight, shining desolately, is unknown to human sorrow. Only fools in this world would hope for its fullness—in the blink of an eye, it would wane thin into a cold hook, like a poorly drawn eyebrow, bent stiffly, coldly clinging to flesh and bone.

The servant Xin Jie came looking for her and said, “Young Mistress, these bluestone slabs are cold and damp, and the night wind in autumn is especially harmful. Let’s go back inside.”

Cold and warm, day and night, rain and shine, spring and autumn—what difference would they make to her from now on?

Feeling a chill on her pillow, she got up and lifted the curtain to reveal a crack—it was raining. The sky was just a deep blue-gray, with sparse rain, dripping from the eaves, each sound like a drop on one’s heart. The multiflora roses had bloomed, the thin petals seemingly capable of melting with a breath. It was already the time of multiflora roses; spring had passed.

The face in the mirror was pale and dim, without color even on the lips. Xin Jie walked over to open the door to the dressing room and said, “Today is a joyous occasion. Wear this red one.”

The silk nightgown hung to her ankles, cool and soft, like the evening wind, coldly caressing. In the dressing room, a row of magnificent clothes hung, colorful, made of silk, embroidery, brocade… flowers of all kinds, scattered, clustered, branch-like… subtle patterns or obvious embroidery, densely packed pearls, a grand and magnificent life, nothing but a dreamlike grand play… She followed the advice and changed into the silver-red qipao. Xin Jie said, “Young Mistress should usually wear these brighter colors. You’re so young, how beautiful you are, like a flower.”

Beauty like a flower, those peach and plum blossoms had long been washed away, buried at the ends of the earth.

She took a car to the Shuangqiao Residence. Madam Mu Rong was in the small reception room and, seeing her, reached out from afar, “Good child.” She softly called out, “Mother.” Madam Mu Rong examined her carefully, adjusted her brooch, and said, “This is the one I had sent to you last time—I thought then it would match your temperament.”

The brooch came from a famous foreign jewelry company, three diamonds flashing under the light, resembling a line of fine tears. But Madam Mu Rong said, “There will certainly be reporters later. Go to my dressing room; someone is waiting there to redo your makeup and hair.”

She softly responded, “Yes.”

Makeup and hair were very laborious tasks. When she came downstairs again, she heard a familiar yet strange voice outside the door, causing her steps to falter slightly. She walked very lightly, entering almost silently, but Jin Rui turned and saw her, calling out, “Susu.” He added, “You should wear makeup daily; it makes you look healthier.”

Willow-leaf eyebrows are long unpainted, remnant makeup and tears stain the red silk, all day in the long palace without combing or washing, what need for pearls to comfort loneliness… All these pearls and jewels, dazzling and radiant, were just for show, to make others envious. Besides this, what other choice did she have?

Mu Rong Qingyi didn’t even turn his face. Madam Mu Rong said, “Susu must not have had breakfast either. The third son goes with her to eat something. The banquet is at two in the afternoon; there are still several hours.”

Mu Rong Qingyi stood up and walked out. Madam Mu Rong gave Susu a meaningful look, and Susu had to follow him out. The kitchen was very considerate, hearing it was breakfast for the two of them, they remembered their tastes and preferences, preparing a Western meal for Mu Rong Qingyi and thin porridge with small dishes for Susu.

In the vast dining room, only the sound of his knife and fork was heard, occasionally hitting the plate with a light “ding,” and then returning to silence. They had last seen each other at the lunar new year. After not seeing him for several months, he also appeared thinner, probably due to busy official matters, with traces of fatigue and boredom faintly visible between his brows. Perhaps he was bored with her, bored with such occasions, having to put on a facade.

The two ate breakfast in silence. She quietly followed him to the large reception room outside the west corridor. Walking through the corridor, he suddenly turned back, reaching out to hold her hand, causing her body to tremble slightly. Then she saw the reporters in the large reception room, all turning to look. He smiled, putting his arm around her waist, accompanied by the sound of camera shutters and dazzling magnesium flashes, leaving a blank space before her eyes. She gathered herself and, like Madam Mu Rong, gave the cameras a seemingly happy smile.

It was a Western-style wedding. Wei Yi wore a wedding dress, her veil carried by three pairs of small flower children, her smile as sweet as honey. After the ceremony, confetti and ribbons mixed with rose petals fell like a dreamlike flower rain. A perfect match, a hundred years of good union. She and Qi Xi Chengtai were truly a golden boy and jade girl, a fairy couple beyond the reach of ordinary people.

In the evening, fireworks were set off at Shuangqiao Residence, with flower after flower blooming on the black canopy of the sky, bursting into splendor for an instant. Guests crowded the terrace, and amid the throng, he lightly embraced her, but it was all just an act. He just looked up, his eyes momentarily flashing with the light of fireworks, seeming to ignite a faint fire. But immediately, it quickly dimmed, extinguishing into the same deadly stillness, with cold thin ice floating up.

The night wind blew, so cold it made her shiver slightly. In such a bustling, prosperous scene, with so many people, he was so close to her, yet she was all alone, facing this cold wind.

18

At the other end of the dance floor, the band was tuning their strings. The first waltz began, the music rising and falling like ripples on a blue lake, or like the crisp sound of copper bells swaying in the wind beneath the eaves. Susu couldn’t help being slightly lost in thought. When she turned her head, he had already extended his hand from afar, and she had no choice but to place her hand in his. His hand was slightly cool, but his dancing skills remained elegant—turning, spinning… Around them was a sea of perfumed clothes and beautiful faces. Only at this moment, could she legitimately raise her face slightly and quietly gaze at him.

His gaze, however, unconsciously drifted away, but after only a second or two, he looked back into her eyes. His gaze was gentle, almost giving her the illusion that her cheeks gradually flushed, and her breathing became shallow and quick. She felt light as a butterfly, his arms the only support, gracefully following his lead, gliding between the flowery, brocaded dance floor. Gradually, only the music remained in her ears, turning, turning… spinning until she felt slightly dizzy. The music was a vast, magnificent ocean, but his eyes were a bottomless abyss. She had no strength to try to gaze downward, fearing she would leap regardless of consequences—he made several turns, taking her away from the noisy depths of the dance floor. The music gradually swelled to its final movement, and she felt her vision darken slightly as she found herself standing in the shadow of a flower screen.

He suddenly kissed her, his tightening arms binding her firmly, allowing no escape, no struggle. He had always been so domineering. The familiar yet distant warmth made her whole body go weak, while the force on her lips once again took her breath away. He greedily drew in her breath, like a person on the verge of death from thirst crossing a desert and finding the first spring, desperately taking without restraint, even his breathing becoming disordered and hurried.

She didn’t want—didn’t want him like this, clearly knowing he was again infatuated with her beauty. She no longer had the strength to bear the pain of loss, so she had to refuse, refuse him treating her this way. Like those colorful flowers around him that he occasionally remembered and looked back upon with mercy, even if she was as humble as wild grass, she had been abandoned by him. From now on, she would no longer want his attention.

She struggled hard, and he suddenly released her. She looked at him quietly, watching the fire that had faintly ignited in his eyes gradually become as cold as ice. Instead, she found fearlessness, directly facing his sharp gaze. The corner of his mouth pulled into a cold smile as he dropped her hand and turned away, walking straight through the dance floor and disappearing into the depths of the laughing crowd.

When the party ended, it was already three o’clock in the morning. Madam Mu Rong said, “I’m getting old and can’t stay up late anymore. I need to sleep. Susu, it’s so late, you should sleep here, so you don’t have to rush back early tomorrow morning.” With things put this way, Susu could only respond “Yes.” Madam Mu Rong turned her face and caught a glimpse of Mu Rong Qingyi’s figure flashing past the doorway. She hurriedly called out, “Third son, where are you going so late?”

Mu Rong Qingyi said, “I just received a call and need to go out for something.”

Madam Mu Rong said, “Where are you going in the middle of the night?”

Mu Rong Qingyi said, “It’s official business. If Mother doesn’t believe me, ask the duty aide.” With that, he walked out. Madam Mu Rong could only smile at Susu and say, “Don’t mind him, you go to sleep first.”

Susu went upstairs. She hadn’t entered this bedroom for nearly half a year, but the room was still arranged as before, even her slippers were still in their original place. The servants cleaned daily, so naturally, it was spotless. But she knew he hadn’t returned to this room for many days, because the antique clock by the bedside was always wound by him. The date on the clock was still showing a date from several months ago; he certainly had other places to go.

The bedding had a faint familiar fragrance, and the bed was so large that she curled up out of habit. Just as she was beginning to feel drowsy, the telephone suddenly rang. She picked up the receiver, and before she could speak, the other party coquettishly complained, “You heartless man, are you going to make me wait until dawn?”

She smiled desolately. Her heart, riddled with wounds, was too numb even to feel pain. She said softly, “He has already left. You don’t need to wait until dawn.”

Waiting is an endless aging, but she had rejected even waiting. In the study, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves held thousands of books, requiring a special ladder to reach the upper shelves. The passage of time within those pages was more rapid than flowing water, and the whirlpools of words in the books occasionally splashed up waves. But her heart had darkened into an ancient well, growing duckweed and becoming obscured, piece by piece consumed completely. Spring had gone, the swallows had left, summer was distant, and the cicada songs grew sparse. Autumn had ended, yellow flowers piled up everywhere, winter had come, and the rain sounded cold and broken. The four seasons held no distinction; she was a branch of flowers in a deep courtyard, unknown, slowly withering beside a broken well and collapsed wall, losing all color, gradually turning gray, and one day, becoming nothing but dust and mud.

Her jade countenance had withered for three years. She had lost four years before, and now she had lost again, another long year passing, fearing that—in this life it would be forever.

The house was so spacious, as quiet as a deep valley, the rustling sound of clothes seemingly the only echo. Outside the window, the cold rain was chilly, dripping against the window lattice. The telephone in the living room rang abruptly, breaking the watery silence, and startling her for no reason. Then she sighed softly, probably another call from the duty room, notifying her of an event she must attend. Xin Jie answered the phone and came to tell her, “It’s a call from Miss Fang.”

Perhaps only Mu Lan still remembered her. She heard Mu Lan say, “Susu, happy birthday.” Only then did she remember, letting out a soft “Oh my.” Mu Lan said, “I was afraid you wouldn’t be home. I’ve invited a few old friends from the dance troupe for dinner. If you’re free, could you come? We can celebrate your birthday together.”

A room full of old friends all stood up when she entered, smiling silently. Only Mu Lan came forward, “I thought you wouldn’t be able to come today.” She smiled and said, “Getting your call made me truly happy.” Xiao Fan smiled and said, “Oh my, I saw your photo in the newspaper recently and hardly recognized you. You’re becoming more and more beautiful—just thinner.” With this remark, others also began asking questions, and everyone became lively.

The hot pot sizzled softly, the pale blue flame gently licking the golden copper bottom of the pot. Through the thin, misty white vapor, Susu was reminded of the days when the dance troupe would feast at small restaurants. They also ate hot pot, naturally not as refined as this one, but amid the rising steam and clamorous laughter, it was just like yesterday.

Xiao Fan still had her noisy personality, “Susu, you’re the most heartless one, keeping in touch with old friends the least. We only get to glimpse your lovely face occasionally in newspapers.” Mu Lan burst out laughing, “Susu, don’t mind her. She said earlier she wanted to extort something from you today.” Xiao Fan smiled and fumbled in her handbag for a newspaper, “Look, I especially kept this. The photo was taken so well.”

Susu reached out to take it. It was a family portrait taken at Wei Yi’s wedding. She stood behind Madam Mu Rong, with a slight smile on her face, and beside her was Mu Rong Qingyi, rarely dressed in Western formal attire, with a familiar face above the bow tie but an unfamiliar smile. Standing together like this, in others’ eyes, it would seem like perfect happiness.

Mu Lan took the newspaper and asked with a smile, “Xiao Fan, do you want Susu to give you an autograph?” While calling out, “The pot is going to boil dry, hurry and eat,” she raised her glass, “Birthday girl, you must drink this one.”

Susu finally smiled, “Don’t you all know me? How can I drink alcohol?” Xiao Fan said, “This plum wine is like soda water; it can’t make you drunk.” Mu Lan also smiled, “None of us are drinkers; it’s just a lively way to celebrate your birthday.” Others also urged her, and seeing their sincere enthusiasm, Susu had no choice but to take a small sip. Xiao Fan held up her glass and said, “Good, I wish you the same joy year after year, age after age.” Susu said, “I really can’t drink anymore.” Xiao Fan made a surprised sound and asked, “Do I have less face than Mu Lan?”

Hearing her say this, Susu had no choice but to drink half a glass. Having set this precedent, the others naturally came to toast as well. Susu had no way out and ended up drinking several small glasses bit by bit. She was never good at drinking and felt her face and ears heating up, her heart beating rapidly. The group ate and chatted, and after drinking half a bowl of sweet soup, she finally felt somewhat better.

Sitting in the car on the way back, as soon as she got out, the cold wind made her feel dizzy. Xin Jie came out to take her handbag, saying with a beaming smile, “The Third Young Master has come.”

She paused in shock, looking toward the living room. His silhouette stood out clearly against the dim outlines of the furniture. Her heart seemed to ignite with fire, her stomach burning as if twisted as if what she had drunk wasn’t wine but a bone-corroding, heart-piercing poison. His expression made her lower her head, his voice hard as stone, “Ren Susu, you still deign to come back?”

The effects of the alcohol hit like a hammer, pounding heavily on her temples. The blood vessels there throbbed lightly, as if sharp thorns were piercing them. He gripped her wrist, the pain making her inhale softly. He released her with a throw, “I see you’ve forgotten your status. Where did you go to get drunk like this and come back?”

She silently raised her face, looking at him calmly and coldly. This calm coldness thoroughly infuriated him. She was always like this with him, no matter what he did, he could never shake her. He swept the teacup off the table onto the floor, the sound finally making her tremble slightly.

His anger was merely because his possession might have been coveted by others. She lowered her head again, weary and disheartened. He would only allow himself to discard her; even if he didn’t want her, he wouldn’t tolerate any intentions from others. She was too tired even to defend herself, with only cold despair remaining.

He said, “I will never trust you again.”

A faint smile appeared on her face. When had he ever trusted her? Or rather, what necessity did he have to trust her? In his life, she was as insignificant as the tiniest speck of dust. He couldn’t tolerate this dust accidentally flying into his eye, so he had to rub it out to be satisfied. Otherwise, how could it attract his attention despite his busy schedule?

The weather grew colder, and in the afternoon, it began to rain again. She listened to the rain alone, pattering like weeping and complaints. When she was young, she disliked rainy days—damp, cold, and confined indoors. Now, in a life-like seclusion, she had grown accustomed to the sound of rain, rustling against banana leaves, dripping and shattering hearts, as desolate as a whisper in her ear. Now, only the rain knew her. If Heaven knew human feelings, it would shed tears until dawn for people. Perhaps Heaven truly showed lifelong pity, accompanying her with misty rain outside the desolate tower.

She took a piece of plain paper to write a letter to Mu Lan, but after writing just three lines, she stared absently. After thinking for a moment, she casually opened a book and slipped the letter inside. The writing in the book was from last year: “Even a thousand gold couldn’t buy Xiangru’s rhapsody, how could one look back?”

By now, she no longer even wanted to look back.

The weather was cold, but the official residence had heating, with flowers everywhere—vase flowers, arranged flowers, and seasonal narcissus growing in crystal stone plates… In the dining room, in a cloisonné vase with two handles, the cut plum blossoms, warmed by the heating, released an increasingly intense fragrance, like the warmth of spring. Jin Rui and his wife, along with Wei Yi and her husband, all brought their children. With over ten adults and children, it was naturally very lively. Wei Yi’s son was still in swaddling clothes, very adorable. Susu held him, and his bright black eyes stared directly at her. Wei Yi laughed beside her, “They say nephews resemble their uncles—Mother says this child bears some resemblance to Third Brother when he was young.” Madam Mu Rong laughed, “Indeed! Look at those eyes and nose, the outline has quite a similarity.” Susu looked down at the child’s small, delicate pink face, and for an instant, the most untouchable place in her heart wrenched with pain, bringing indescribable sadness.

Mu Rong Feng was in a good mood and drank a jar of Huadiao wine with Mu Rong Qingyi and Qi Xi Cheng. Wei Yi laughed, “Father is really happy today. Third Brother, don’t encourage Xi Cheng to drink more; you know his capacity.” Mu Rong Qingyi, who also had some signs of intoxication, merely smiled, “Girls are partial to outsiders. You’re protecting him like this, but I refuse to listen.” The two of them ended up drinking several more cups, and Qi Xi Cheng was thoroughly drunk before they stopped.

Last year, Susu returned home immediately after the New Year’s dinner, but today Madam Mu Rong said, “The third son seems to have drunk too much. Go upstairs and check on him. Don’t leave today.” Her meaning was quite clear. Because she had always shown affection for Susu, Susu couldn’t bear to go against her wishes on New Year’s Eve and had to go upstairs. Mu Rong Qingyi was indeed somewhat drunk. After coming out of the bathroom, he collapsed on the couch and fell asleep. Susu sighed softly, seeing him carelessly wrapped in a blanket, and had no choice but to lie down beside the bed fully clothed.

She had always been a light sleeper, but on this day, having stayed up for New Year’s Eve, she was extremely tired and soon fell into a drowsy sleep. In her hazy dream, she seemed to be lying in her uncle’s wife’s home, on a low, simple couch, with mottled water stains from roof leaks on the ceiling. The weather was unbearably hot, the sun outside baking the room as if it were on Fire Mountain, yet her body alternated between cold and hot. She heard her aunt say, “I’m not being heartless, but today we must send him away.” The child kept crying, struggling forcefully in his swaddling clothes as if understanding what the adults were saying. The child cried desperately, heart-rendingly, until her heart broke. Tears streamed down her face as she reached out her hands pleadingly, sobbing until her whole body trembled… The child… her child… the child she couldn’t protect… She had waited for him, finally waited for him. He watched her from far away in the audience, each dance step landing on her heartstrings. The child… could he help her find her child… She sobbed pleadingly… San… San…

In their most intimate moments, she had called him by his childhood name. He turned over, merely drunk, or perhaps dreaming again. The heartbreaking crying sound continued to echo in his ears. Her crying, she was crying… He woke with a start, instinctively reaching out, “Susu!” It was her, curled up over there, her body softly trembling. She called him again, “San…” Just this one word and something in his heart shattered with a crash. Two years, he had spent nearly two years building a dam drop by drop, believing it to be invincible and impregnable, yet it turned out to be completely defenseless, unable to withstand this one word from her. Just this one word, and he seemed bewitched. She was here, she was here. He held her tightly, “I’m here, Susu, I’m here…” She sobbed and opened her eyes, looking at his face in the dim light. He had left her for two years, abandoned her for two years, yet now his eyes showed a drowning softness. He was merely drunk, or perhaps she was just dreaming, for him to look at her this way as if she were the world’s most precious treasure as if she were a treasure he would lose if he let go. She trembled violently. His body had a familiar scent, warm enough to make one fly like a moth into the flame. She was seeking her death, but he looked at her this way, like in the past… in the past… in the past, he had once gazed at her with such longing…

He carried a faint scent of alcohol. Gradually, her eyes regained a sad calmness. She turned her face away, but he eagerly sought her lips. She didn’t want this, didn’t want this inexplicable comfort; perhaps he was mistaking her for someone else. She raised her hand to block him, “No…” Knowing he wouldn’t stop because of her refusal, it was just a dying struggle, but he paused, slowly releasing her. His eyes gradually filled with an expression she didn’t understand, which resembled sadness… He was like a child, forcibly deprived of a beloved object, and also like a beast trapped in a snare, watching helplessly as the hunter approached with a gun—so desperate, desperate enough to make her heart palpitate. She heard him say, as if in a dream, “Susu, I love you.”