Chapter 37: Moonlight Over the Homeland (2)
He smiled, but Mother Zhou slowly furrowed her brows. "You can't..."
"I can." Zhou Wenchuan remained nonchalant.
"Xiao Ren, Grandma is tired," Zhou Shengchen spoke, addressing the boy beside him whose eyes had long turned icy as he glared at Zhou Wenchuan. "Go accompany Grandma downstairs."
He understood—Zhou Wenchuan had made his final move.
After speaking, he gently patted Xiao Ren's shoulder.
Xiao Ren ultimately restrained himself and silently walked behind the beaded curtain, bending slightly to say, "Grandma, let's go rest, okay?"
"Ah... Xiao Ren," Grandma chuckled warmly. "Yes, yes... rest..."
The elderly woman truly seemed exhausted as she slowly rose from her chair, trembling as Mother Zhou and Xiao Ren supported her, leisurely making their way to the staircase. Someone was already waiting there, carefully carrying her downstairs on their back.
The floor fell into an eerie silence.
Only the faint murmur of idle chatter and the sound of string instruments drifted up from below.
Every movement of the elderly woman seemed like a slow-motion film.
Until she left, she never noticed the figures behind her silently raising their guns, loading them, and aiming at Zhou Wenchuan.
Zhou Wenchuan, however, remained indifferent.
A blade slid up from behind Shi Yi, pressing against her neck. "Big brother, do me a favor—hand over your gun."
Zhou Wenchuan grinned at Zhou Shengchen.
Once all unrelated parties had left, Zhou Shengchen wordlessly removed the gun from his person and tossed it behind the beaded curtain. With a clatter, it landed at Zhou Wenchuan's feet. He effortlessly hooked it with his foot, sending it flying into his free right hand.
Without delay, Zhou Wenchuan loaded the gun and immediately aimed it at Zhou Shengchen.
"What else do you want?" Zhou Shengchen's eyes darkened as he stared at him.
Zhou Wenchuan let out a laugh. "I want you dead."
"And then, you take over the Zhou family?"
Zhou Shengchen spoke slowly.
With a wave of his hand, he signaled for everyone to stand down.
To prevent Zhou Wenchuan from harming Shi Yi, he deliberately exposed all his vital points to the gun's muzzle.
"This Zhou family—only you and her are outsiders," Zhou Wenchuan's voice, chillingly close, carried a mocking tone. "I am Xiao Ren's blood brother, Mother's only son. Your death means my survival."
Shocking and insane words.
All secrets were laid bare.
Zhou Shengchen was his father's only true heir. Mother Zhou, as his "birth mother," had raised him for nearly thirty years after his real mother's death as repayment. And when he discovered the unspeakable origins of these siblings, he had chosen silence.
Yet, human hearts are fickle.
In the Zhou family, what he felt was always more cold than warmth.
"Let her go."
"Zhou Shengchen," Zhou Wenchuan interrupted, "don't dodge. If you dodge, she dies. Walk toward me."
Zhou Wenchuan knew he could pull the trigger now.
But he didn't trust himself—he feared missing his shot, feared that Zhou Shengchen might evade the bullet at the last moment.
He needed Zhou Shengchen closer.
Close enough that evasion would be impossible—only then would it be foolproof.
"Mind your blade," Zhou Shengchen said. "If she dies, you will die without question. If I die, you might still have a chance to live." Without hesitation, he stepped toward the swaying beaded curtain.
"No matter what happens, no one fires." He commanded everyone.
Closer and closer.Only ten steps away—an unavoidable distance where a single shot could strike a fatal blow.
Suddenly, cheers erupted from downstairs as the performance on stage reached its climax.
No one noticed the unfolding drama on the third floor.
All anyone could see was the second young master’s back against the low railing.
Shi Yi, hearing Zhou Shengchen’s voice, desperately tried to speak.
Tears streamed down her face, but the knife handle pressed mercilessly against her throat, robbing her of speech.
"Shi Yi, don’t speak."
Zhou Shengchen’s voice was low, carrying a soothing strength.
Yet it was muffled, indistinct through the haze of her tears… She was on the verge of suffocation. Blinding white light flashed before her eyes as the gun’s pressure rendered her completely mute, leaving only her unstoppable tears. She didn’t know if he had already approached, if he was now within range of Zhou Wenchuan’s gun… Despair spread from the deepest corners of her heart.
Then, the faint click of a trigger being pulled.
A surge of terror seized her. She grabbed Zhou Wenchuan’s arm and slammed him against the railing.
She wanted him to live.
Even if it meant her own death.
Two more gunshots followed.
Caught off guard by the force, Zhou Wenchuan lost his balance, and together with Shi Yi, they tumbled over the railing.
No one knew exactly what had happened on the third floor—only the gunshots were heard, and then the second young master and the eldest young mistress plummeted, shattering the table and chairs below. The entire venue—the stage, the audience, even the second floor—fell into stunned silence.
Fortunately, Uncle Lin was stationed downstairs and immediately rushed to check on Shi Yi and Zhou Wenchuan.
"Uncle Lin," Zhou Shengren emerged from the southeast corner of the first floor. Though just a teenager, his composure surpassed everyone else’s. "Go upstairs. Leave the situation here to me."
He didn’t explain what had happened above.
His elder brother’s gun had a silencer, so he couldn’t tell if Zhou Wenchuan had fired.
But he had clearly heard two gunshots—aside from his own… His gaze landed on Du Feng, whose gun was still in hand. Unexpectedly, it was an outsider who had acted at the critical moment.
The Zhou household descended into chaos.
Whether it was Zhou Shengchen and Shi Yi, both undergoing emergency treatment, or Zhou Wenchuan, whose death had already been confirmed—everything had happened too suddenly. The ancestral home remained brightly lit through the night, no longer for the birthday banquet but for this chain of unforeseen tragedies.
Everyone—including Madam Zhou, Uncle Zhou Shengxing, even Zhou Shengren—was barred from approaching those being treated.
Uncle Zhou finally appeared in the early hours of the morning, hastily arranging Zhou Wenchuan’s funeral and ordering his trusted aides to escort Madam Zhou back to the main residence at the foot of the mountain. Her eyes were vacant, tears flowing endlessly.
Zhou Wenchuan had been shot twice. Regardless of whether Zhou Shengren’s bullet had hit a vital spot, he had fired.
In the car, Zhou Shengren sat in the front seat.
Zhou Shengxing closed the soundproof glass partition and sighed heavily. "Wan Niang, I don’t know how to console you."
Madam Zhou’s eyes were bloodshot as she slowly turned to him. "My children… my two children… If you had only helped Wenchuan, he wouldn’t have been forced to gamble his life like this…"
"Zhou Shengchen will hand the Zhou family to Xiao Ren in ten years. That is the best outcome."
"Wenchuan was also your son," Madam Zhou choked, unable to continue. "He was also your son…"Zhou Shengxing slightly closed his eyes, no longer looking at Zhou's mother: "Even if everyone knows about Wen Xing and Wen Chuan's origins, I cannot acknowledge it. After all these years in the Zhou family, don't you understand? Just like how unwilling your elder brother was, he still had to marry you into the Zhou family—all to give his first son, his most beloved son, a legitimate mother. Because only you were worthy."
That year, Wan Niang married into the Zhou family amid rumors of being "pregnant before marriage," solely to give Zhou Shengchen, the premature and motherless eldest young master, a rightful status. He and Wan Niang had known each other since youth but had to give each other up for the Zhou family. Yet, day after day in close proximity, emotions inevitably took over, resulting in this pair of twins who should never have existed...
Karma comes full circle.
Without the cause of the past, how could there be the effect of today?
If he hadn't personally ordered the pursuit of Xiao Ren's mother on that cruise ship ten years ago to purge the Zhou family of traitors, how could she have climbed onto a scorching boiler and taken poison to end her life?
If he could hand the Zhou family over to Xiao Ren ten years later, it would be some form of recompense.
In this life, who is without fault? And how can all the debts of gratitude and guilt ever be fully repaid?
Zhou Shengchen woke in the dead of night.
The gunshot wound wasn't in a vital spot—it had struck his arm. Or rather, it had been aimed at a vital spot, but the bullet veered off course because of Shi Yi's intervention. Someone was examining him by his side.
Zhou Shengchen tried to sit up, causing all the doctors to panic, though none dared to dissuade him.
Uncle Lin hurried forward as Zhou Shengchen used his uninjured arm to prop himself up. "Where is Shi Yi?"
Uncle Lin hesitated briefly.
"Where is Shi Yi?!" He grabbed Uncle Lin's arm.
The wound instantly tore open, blood slowly seeping through the bandages.
"Miss Shi Yi... still hasn't woken up."
His fingers tightened around Uncle Lin's arm. He clenched his eyes shut, then threw off the white quilt and got out of bed. When a doctor moved to stop him, Uncle Lin waved them all back. Pushing the door open, he led Zhou Shengchen to Shi Yi's room. To prevent further incidents, all medical staff had been stationed there—her room had effectively become a hospital ward.
He reached the doorway but stopped abruptly.
The pain in his arm was nothing compared to the fear and agony gnawing at his bones.
Again and again.
He couldn't protect her.
His hand pressed against the door, gradually forming a fist as warm tears spilled from his eyes.
Uncle Lin and the others in the hallway didn't dare make a sound, watching as he slowly lowered his head onto his arm. For a long time, he remained like this—separated by a door, leaning against it but unable to enter.
Suddenly, a voice came from inside the room:
"Did her fingers just move...?"
Zhou Shengchen shoved the door open violently. The doctors inside froze, turning to look at him.
But his gaze was fixed solely on the figure lying on the bed.
The steady rhythm of the heart monitor... slowly dissolved the fear spreading through his veins.
He remembered every word she had ever spoken to him—words that had gradually seeped into his heart. Now, the speaker was asleep, yet it felt as though she might wake at any moment and speak to him again.
With him, she always seemed so cautious, as if afraid of losing him...
"Wait for me, I need to tell you something..."
"I've always been curious—what does the research institute look like? Would you mind showing me...?"
"Do you believe in past lives? I might be able to see yours..."
"The way you look today suits your name perfectly. Zhou Shengchen—this is exactly how someone with that name should feel.""Having feelings... leads to engagement?"
"What does your mother... like girls to wear?"
"Come to my place for a while? I want... to make you a cup of herbal tea to ward off the cold."
"I don't know... if you're used to eating this, but it's quite delicious."
"Why did you choose research? Was it really because you couldn't think of anything else to do, so you just picked it randomly?"
"Liu Gongquan's calligraphy is too rigid... would it be unsuitable for engagement invitations?"
"After putting on the ring... do I need to kiss my fiancée?"
"As long as you let me be with you, I'll believe in you unconditionally..."
"I'm tired... can you hold my hand and walk with me?"
"Zhou Shengchen... is it difficult for you to share a bed with your wife?"
"I'm sorry... I've truly never encountered a gunfight before..."
"So... I won't be unworthy of you, right?"
"Aside from worrying about me, was there any part of you... that missed me?"
"If I die first, I'll have to trouble you for a while. In the next life... I'll make it up to you."
"You must have misunderstood, Zhou Shengchen, misunderstood my meaning.
What I meant was, once you've accomplished what you want to do, you only need to spend your days studying Venus. Leave the rest to me. I'll cook for you, brew your tea, take care of everything, spare you from exhaustion, from hardship, from running around, from having no one to rely on."
Sunlight filtered through the white curtains, casting dappled shadows on Shi Yi.
She didn't seem to be in any pain, just lying there with her eyes closed, the way she always looked when he woke at four or five in the morning with her beside him. Untroubled by worldly concerns, even in sleep, she was so peaceful.
She lay there quietly, just like that.
"Eleven, the one who will soon step onto the platform is going to be your future master," Third Brother said, holding her. She was bundled up tightly, only her eyes visible, and she shifted slightly, excited.
Those bright eyes gazed beyond the city walls.
From here, all she could see was the dawn light slowly seeping into the darkness, blending into a pale blue.
The platform below the city walls was empty, but several large banners flapped wildly in the wind, their characters no longer discernible.
Her hands were cold, but she had to keep gripping the wall, or even Third Brother wouldn't be able to hold her... If not for all the rumors about this master, she would never have sneaked out with Third Brother and only four attendants, just to catch a glimpse of the Little Southern Chen Prince she would meet in three days.
Zhou Shengchen.
The name sounded refined and noble, as if he were well-versed in literature.
He should be a prince standing tall in his study, with gentle eyes and a scholarly air.
Not...
The tens of thousands of soldiers outside the city walls were covered in dust, standing silently, appearing almost lifeless from afar. Several horses approached from the distance, the leading man's face indistinct, but his white robes were dazzling.
"He's coming, Eleven," Third Brother exclaimed. "Little one, stop squirming."
The riders reached the platform and abruptly reined in their horses.
Amid the neighing, the leading man dismounted and ascended the empty platform step by step.
The long night gave way to dawn as the three armies marched forth. With beacon smoke as the backdrop and yellow sand filling the sky, he stood on the platform and raised a hand. Seven hundred thousand soldiers knelt before him in unison, shouting, "Prince!" The deafening roar pierced through the sand and mist, reaching her ears... Someone covered them with their hands.This was the true Zhou Shengchen—the Prince of Southern Chen with a thousand vassals and command over seven hundred thousand troops.
Was it his captivating charm? Or had her heart been utterly bewitched?
At six or seven years old, she didn't understand such things, only feeling awestruck by the sight before her. Her small hands clutched tightly at the city wall's blue bricks, her heart pounding like thunder.
Soon, the sky brightened completely.
The young master of Qinghe's Cui clan naturally knew they couldn't linger here. Seeing it was about time, he took Eleven's small hand and led her down the other side of the wall. Being small, her steps were tiny, and unwilling to leave, she walked even slower.
"Aiyo, my little ancestor," Third Brother's voice nearly broke as he scooped her up, "Your brother's only twelve, and you're almost seven—yet you still make me carry you around..."
She wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face against him with a small smile.
"..." Third Brother doted on this sister most of all. Seeing her like this melted his heart.
He stopped complaining and carried her swiftly away. Among Qinghe's Cui clan, Eleven was their only girl, already betrothed to the Crown Prince—truly more precious than him, born of a concubine.
If Father discovered they'd sneaked out, another round of family discipline would be inevitable.
As Third Brother hurried along, Eleven kept tugging at his cloak, worried he'd catch cold in the wind.
Surrounded by four guards, they successfully descended the wall—only to be halted after just a few steps...
Eleven startled, blinking up at Third Brother.
"Don't worry, Third Brother's here," he reassured, patting her back.
A dozen horses approached, their battle-hardened breaths still lightly steaming—these warhorses carried an aura of lethality.
Clutching Third Brother's lapel, she looked up at the riders. The man behind them held his reins, backlit by sunlight as he studied the two half-grown children.
Those dark, clear eyes bypassed the four guards, silently meeting hers.
Eleven cautiously returned his gaze. The world fell so quiet... quiet enough to hear only her own heartbeat.
"Drunk upon bleached bones, singing wild and free—a horse, a jug of wine, how many in this world match such a king?"
"Had it not been for me, you would have remained that lofty sovereign."
"Fleeting life is but a dream—how much joy can there be?"
"Knowing cause and effect now... do you regret taking me as your disciple?"
(End of Chapter)
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