As spring transitioned into summer, a series of continuous fine rains washed the burgeoning vitality of spring to a vibrant, glossy green. Outside the tea house, a branch of apricot blossoms thrived by instinct, leaning into the window to avoid the petals being battered by the wind and rain.
Yet, the muffled sound of rain was rather disturbing.
Ji Yuluo’s small table was against the window. She was flipping through a secret letter from the south, mostly detailing the overt and covert disturbances within the Cui Xue Tower. The martial arts sects resembled a miniature court, always rife with intrigue and scheming. In the past, with Xie Subai overseeing matters, Ji Yuluo could act recklessly and intervene openly, but now, that was no longer possible.
Ao Zhi had come from the palace, kneeling beside her to relay Xie Subai’s messages.
She diligently conveyed many points.
But Xie Subai was a man of few words; these definitely did not all come from him. He probably only gave two or three sentences, but Ao Zhi, adept at understanding his intentions, managed to elaborate on them extensively.
“Even with a change of dynasty, turbulence is inevitable. Where there are many people, there will always be disputes, and Cui Xue Tower is no exception. Now with a new master, and you being so young, the former emperor often protected you, which has inevitably bred resentment in the eyes of others. Take Zhou Baihu, for instance. But not everyone is as straightforward as Zhou Baihu, who wears his ill intentions on his face. It’s the hidden malice you need to be wary of.”
“But you can’t resort to killing indiscriminately, as it may chill people’s hearts and unbalance the situation. The master knows you are someone who cannot tolerate even a grain of sand in your eyes, but you must also learn to maintain balance.”
“The master’s remaining influence still lingers, but it can only suppress things for a while, not forever. You must learn to protect yourself in the future.”
At this point, Ao Zhi paused. “Fortunately, Lord Huo is here now to protect you…”
This was probably also the reason why the emperor painstakingly rescued Huo Xian.
Looking at Ji Yuluo’s flawless profile, Ao Zhi felt a lingering sense of frustration. The meticulous care and teaching from a young age felt like they were for someone else’s benefit, yet this deep affection could not be revealed.
Sighing deeply, Ao Zhi could only divert her thoughts.
The wind outside grew stronger, blowing the rain inward.
Ji Yuluo moved to close the window, but the apricot branch obstructed her. Lacking any sentimentality, she continued to read the secret letter, not even lifting her head as she mercilessly pushed the branch out of the window and shut it with a “bang.”
The sound of the rain diminished.
After finishing her message, Ao Zhi asked, “When will you leave the capital, Miss?”
Ji Yuluo set down the letter and said, “Before leaving the capital, I will enter the palace to thank the emperor.”
She paused briefly, then added, “His health is poor, and he is busy with state affairs. He need not worry about me anymore; taking care of himself is most important. Is he still taking his medicine?”
Ao Zhi replied affirmatively. With nothing more to say, the two fell silent for a moment before Ao Zhi took her leave and returned to the palace.
As Ao Zhi’s figure disappeared behind the screen, Ji Yuluo opened her mouth but stopped short of calling her back.
The rain had lessened on the street, and the smooth, mirror-like bluestone pavement reflected the shops lining either side.
On rainy days, there were fewer people, making the return journey in the carriage smooth.
Reclining on the couch, Ji Yuluo said, “Take a detour to Dongzhimen Street.”
Although she no longer kept Huo Xian in chains, she hadn’t permitted him to leave. She had only allowed him to move about within a courtyard.
Firstly, because he wasn’t fully recovered, and secondly, because too many people in the capital were eyeing Huo Xian with ill intent. All things considered, Ji Yuluo now felt it was better to keep him under her watchful eye.
Huo Xian, understanding his precarious position, had been unusually well-behaved. Lately, she had often seen him sitting on the stone steps carving wood, a way to pass the time. Ji Yuluo planned to visit the wood carving shop to pick out some good wood for him.
She hoped he would remain this compliant until she could safely leave the capital.
However, as they turned into a long street, they veered off and stopped to the side.
Ji Yuluo opened the carriage window and saw a procession in mourning attire approaching from the alley, led by a man holding a bronze gong, which he did not strike. The men and women in the middle silently wiped their tears.
It was evidently a funeral procession, but conducted in complete silence.
The quiet mourning was even more hushed than the misty rain.
What caught Ji Yuluo’s attention was Ji Xianyu at the front, accompanied by Ji Yunkou.
Ji Yunkou was crying perfunctorily, following along in a daze, appearing lifeless like a walking corpse. In contrast, Ji Xianyu’s tears seemed genuine; her eyes were swollen like walnut kernels.
Immersed in her sorrow, Ji Xianyu didn’t notice the pebbles underfoot and nearly slipped, almost bumping into Ji Yunkou.
Ji Yunkou glanced at her sluggishly, pursed her lips, but said nothing.
Ji Yuluo knew that Ji Xianyu’s sorrow wasn’t necessarily for their nearly invisible grandmother.
Madam Jiang had been a devout Buddhist, rarely seeing guests for years. Ji Xianyu had seen her infrequently. Emotional bonds between people grow through interaction; without it, even blood relations lose their weight. Now that Madam Jiang had passed, it was difficult for her grandchildren to feel genuine grief. But with everything happening now, the decline of the Ji family, the accumulation of events felt particularly poignant.
Ji Xianyu’s tears were for the helplessness of life’s unpredictability.
But Ji Yunkou’s tears had dried up when Concubine Gu died. In the following days, she was so frightened by her “eldest sister” about to be married off that she lost most of her senses, living in a daze daily, now feeling nothing at all.
After all, things could only get worse.
As she retracted her gaze, she suddenly felt a jolt of fear, her pupils widening.
The figure inside the carriage made her hands tremble instinctively, as if she’d seen a ghost, urging the guiding nanny ahead to walk faster.
The Ji mansion’s entrance was adorned with white lanterns, and the wreaths on either side were placed by the family. There were no guests to mourn.
If it were the past, such a scene would be unimaginable.
The students from the Imperial Academy alone would have lined up in a long queue.
But times had changed. Lin Chan even felt relieved that no one came.
Lately, she had endured countless cold stares and heard a barrage of sarcastic remarks. Even if people came now, it would be like a weasel paying a New Year visit to a chicken—no good intentions. The Ji family’s good reputation was utterly ruined. They didn’t dare to make a big deal out of the funeral. The couple wished they could pass through it quietly without drawing any more attention to the Ji family.
Thus, Lin Chan became even more perfunctory, not even bothering to cry, just sitting in a daze under the corridor.
As she sat there, her eyes turned red.
How did things come to this? She was once the precious darling of her family, but after becoming a wife, nothing had gone right.
All the suffering seemed to start when she chose Ji Chongwang.
That young, handsome, poor scholar. But now, thinking back, the sunlight that day was too bright, casting a beautiful and hazy illusion on Ji Chongwang that made her heart flutter and develop an obsession.
A proud young lady, determined to have him, not caring whether he had someone else in his heart.
But after so many years of seeing Ji Chongwang’s hypocritical facade and knowing his inner cruelty and selfishness, the young love she felt had long faded. All these years of managing were just for the last shred of dignity in front of others.
But now, even that dignity was gone.
Lin Chan grabbed Ji Xianyu, who was busy going in and out. The coarse mourning clothes made her look so small. She gasped in shock, “Mother…”
Lin Chan’s eyes lit up as she tightly grasped Ji Xianyu’s hand, saying, “I heard your elder sister serves at the emperor’s side. The new emperor is gentle and kind; he will surely listen to her. Aren’t you the closest to her? Go and talk to her. The Ji family is her family too. If something happens to us, it won’t be good for her either!”
“Mother…” Ji Xianyu cried as she pulled her hand away. With a sob, she said, “This is no longer sister’s home. We’ve all wronged her; how can we ask her for help? You and Father have committed grave sins. If we survive, we must repent.”
Lin Chan was relentless, but Ji Chongwang happened to pass by. He said coldly, “Why make things difficult for the child? It’s useless to beg anyone. The new emperor won’t keep me.”
Having maneuvered in the officialdom for twenty years, he understood the court’s dynamics better than anyone.
Even without Ji Yuluo’s situation, his previous maneuvering at the Imperial Academy to help the new emperor ascend to the throne had already sealed his fate as a disposable pawn.
His very existence was a thorn in the new emperor’s side. There was no way the emperor would allow him to continue his duties in the capital.
In a few days, a transfer order would surely arrive.
The Ji family’s honor had lasted less than half a lifetime.
Ji Chongwang’s face remained calm, but his inner sorrow was no less than Lin Chan’s. All his schemes, all the sacrifices, had been in vain.
However, he underestimated the new emperor’s mercy.
The funeral lasted only a day before a decree from the palace arrived, relieving him of his position at the Imperial Academy and relegating him to a local post.
Demoted several ranks and sent to a remote area, Ji Chongwang didn’t bother to defend or argue for himself. His bowed head was a picture of resignation.
On the day he left the city, passing through the city gate, Ji Yuluo’s carriage window was open, her face visible as she quietly watched him.
There was no joy or hatred in her gaze, just a faint, careless mockery in her slightly upturned eyes.
This mockery was something Ji Chongwang had seen on a child’s face before.
It was a cold day, frost and snow covering the winter plum blossoms.
An eight-year-old girl was led by her nanny, circling the plum branches. Her downcast eyes fixed on her shoes, which had a hole in them, but when she looked up, there was no trace of suffering on her face.
Quietly, with her black and white pupils showing no panic, she was unnaturally calm for an eight-year-old.
Back then, she hesitantly called out, “Father?”
Ji Chongwang knew then that this was karmic retribution, a vendetta from You Daiyue against him.
Later, on the day she was sent out of the city, Ji Chongwang stood under the eaves by the side door. The child looked at him through the carriage window, her expression the same as now—quiet like an unfathomable abyss, calm and unruffled, with a faint, barely noticeable curve at the corners of her eyes and lips that conveyed a penetrating, disdainful indifference, as if she could see right through him and found him unworthy of her attention.
Ji Chongwang had never told anyone, but he often woke up in a cold sweat from nightmares.
He dreamt of those eyes staring straight at him, seeing through him completely!
He stood there as Ji Xianyu urged, “Father? It’s time to go.”
Ji Chongwang handed her the bundle and told her to join the long queue at the city gate. He, however, walked straight towards the opposite carriage.
His steps were heavy, and his expression was grave.
Inside the carriage, the woman leaned lazily against the side, exuding an air of indifference and coldness. Seeing him approach, she didn’t sit up straight but merely raised her eyes.
Their gazes met amidst the noisy crowd, creating a stark contrast of dead silence between them.
After a long pause, Ji Chongwang said, “In the end, she won. She hated me so much. You fulfilled her wish, and that’s something.”
Upon hearing this, Ji Yuluo first raised an eyebrow, then lowered her eyes and let out a light, mocking laugh.
To this day, she had never actually done anything against the Ji family. It was simply bad luck that he stood in the way of a power shift. Who could he blame for that?
Yet Ji Chongwang believed that the Ji family’s downfall was her doing, a deliberate act to avenge You Daiyue.
… But in truth, she had inadvertently fulfilled You Daiyue’s wish.
Thinking of this, the smile on Ji Yuluo’s face gradually faded, replaced by a fleeting look of desolation and confusion. But it was only for a moment, quickly interrupted by a high-pitched voice outside the carriage.
The shopkeeper from the wood carving shop came over, holding a heavy piece of rosewood, beaming, “Miss, look, this is the new wood we just got. You asked for it last time, so we’ve kept it for you.”
Ji Yuluo touched the piece of wood, and the inexplicable annoyance in her heart suddenly dissipated. “Let’s go back.”
