Overdo

Lei Shaogong could guess the situation from the scene. Knowing his temper had already subsided, he said with a smile, "I was just bored at home, so I came over." He added, "Why take it out on things? I’ve had my eye on that Yongzheng yellow-glazed lotus-patterned vase for a long time but never dared to ask you for it. Who knew you’d break it today?" He wore a look of genuine regret. Murong Qingyi knew he was deliberately changing the subject and, flipping through the magazine in his hand, said, "Stop beating around the bush. If you have something to say, just say it."

Lei Shaogong replied, "Yes." After a moment’s thought, he said, "Third Young Master, how about going hunting this weekend? We can invite Huo Zongqi and Kang Mincheng." Murong Qingyi set down the magazine and straightened up, saying, "I told you not to beat around the bush, so why are you still rambling?" Only then did Lei Shaogong get to the point: "That Miss Ren may be beautiful, but she’s just a woman after all. Third Young Master, there’s no need to take it to heart."

Murong Qingyi asked, "Who’s been gossiping to you again?" Lei Shaogong replied, "With Third Young Master in such a temper, they naturally didn’t dare hide it." Murong Qingyi said, "Stop speaking to me in such an evasive manner." Still feeling unsettled, he paused before adding, "I thought her claim of having a boyfriend was just an excuse."

Lei Shaogong noticed a hint of dejection on his face and was inwardly startled. Seeing the faint scar under his left eye, now barely visible, he recalled the incident by the lotus pond and quickly changed the subject: "How about inviting Miss Feng to dance tonight? Should I make the call?" Murong Qingyi only snorted in response. Worried that things might escalate—especially since Murong Feng was a strict disciplinarian with his son, and any word reaching him could spell trouble—Lei Shaogong excused himself to make a call. Stepping outside, he asked the attendants, "What exactly happened today?" As deputy director of the attendants’ office, his subordinates had no reason to withhold information and explained in detail: "Around five in the afternoon, Third Young Master returned from Fanming. While his car was waiting for the ferry at the dock, he happened to see Miss Ren with a friend by the river." After asking a few more questions, Lei Shaogong understood the situation: it was simply the frustration of not getting what he wanted. Just then, he looked up and saw Murong Qingyi stepping out. He hurried over and asked, "Third Young Master, where are you headed?"

Murong Qingyi tilted his chin up and said, "Nowhere. I’m staying here. You go." Hearing this, Lei Shaogong understood his intent but knew it was futile to dissuade him. Youthful and unaccustomed to setbacks, he had developed such a temperament. After a long silence, Lei Shaogong said, "But what if the Master finds out…"

Murong Qingyi retorted, "How would Father know about our affairs? Unless one of you reports it." Such words showed his anger had flared up again. Lei Shaogong had no choice but to reply, "Yes," and called for a car to leave.After Lei Shaogong left, the residence grew quiet again. This was merely a place where he stayed occasionally during his leisure time, so there were no servants or attendants around. The attendants, having witnessed his earlier outburst, kept their distance. He walked along the gravel path toward the back, flanked on both sides by flower barriers. Among the dense, dark brown leaves of the vines, small white flowers bloomed one by one. Upon closer inspection, he realized chrysanthemums were nestled among them. He continued until he reached the lotus pond. A gust of wind swept by, causing the lotus leaves in the pond to flutter and swirl like countless green gauze skirts. Suddenly, he recalled that day—she had worn a jade-green dress, her jet-black hair cascading over her chest, her eyes like two pools of autumn water, so serene they captivated the soul. When she smiled, it was a demure, closed-lipped smile, yet the corners of her lips lifted slightly, resembling a crescent moon that tempted him to steal a kiss. The scratch marks on his face had since faded, but it was the first time in his life he had encountered resistance. The restlessness in his heart grew even more tumultuous under the cool autumn breeze.

He stood there a while longer before an attendant approached him. "Third Young Master, Miss Ren has arrived."

Though the villa at Duan Mountain was small, it was exquisitely furnished. The room was decorated in a traditional Chinese style, with rosewood furniture and Suzhou Embroidery cushions in an incense hue, embroidered with large hibiscus patterns in silver thread that shimmered brilliantly. Near the entrance stood a twelve-panel rosewood screen, intricately carved with twelve varieties of flowers. The wood had a purplish hue tinged with red, smooth and lustrous like jade. The light from the floor lamp, filtered through its gauze shade, cast a soft, yellowish glow, reminiscent of candlelight from bygone days illuminating the screen. The recessed areas of the carved patterns were deep and dark, like the black of night. Hearing footsteps, Susu’s fear deepened, and she took a slight step back. Murong Qingyi noticed her pale face and slightly disheveled hair, clear signs of her fright. He said, "Don’t be afraid, it’s me." Yet she retreated in panic, step by step, until there was nowhere left to go, like a frightened fawn trapped. Her large, dark, round eyes were filled with terror and confusion, fixed intently on him. "I want to go home." He chuckled softly. "Isn’t this place better than home?" Taking her hand, he led her to the desk and opened a box. Under the lamplight, the jewel emitted a dazzling radiance, its brilliance swirling and illuminating their features with clarity.

He whispered, "This pearl is said to have come from the palace, passed down from my grandmother. It’s called ‘Yue’." Picking up the necklace, he moved to fasten it around her neck. She hastily protested, "I don’t want it. I want to go home." She reached out to push him away, but he caught her wrist. He murmured her name, "Susu." She lost her balance, pulled forward by his force, and stumbled straight into his embrace. She struggled but couldn’t break free. As he leaned in to kiss her, she raised her hand in resistance, but he anticipated the move and tilted his head to avoid it. Desperate to escape his grasp, she found herself overpowered by his strength. His kisses fell relentlessly upon her lips, her face, her neck. In her despair, she struggled fiercely, her fingertips brushing against the cold porcelain on the desk but unable to grasp it. With one final burst of effort, she managed to free one hand, but the momentum sent her lurching sideways toward the desk. The teacup on the desk was swept to the floor with a loud crash, shattering into pieces.Fear swept over her like a tidal wave. She felt herself lifted abruptly, the world spinning as he scooped her into his arms. Panicked, hot tears stained his hands. She grabbed a piece of broken porcelain, but he swiftly seized her wrist, wresting the shard away and flinging it far off. She gasped for breath, tears streaming down her face, yet she was no match for his strength. Sobbing, she dug her nails into his arm, but he paid no heed, his actions relentless and forceful. She struggled desperately, her tears dampening the tassels on the pillow, the cold fabric clinging to her cheek—an inescapable chill that burned fiercer than fire, as if it could consume everything. Outside the window, a soft rain began to fall, pattering gently on the parasol leaves, the sound gradually growing into a rustling whisper. Clothes slipped silently to the floor like scattered petals battered by wind and rain.

By six o’clock, the rain had intensified, the sound of rushing water echoing all around. Autumn in Wuchi was the rainy season, with abundant moisture, but such a torrential downpour was rare. Lei Shaogong jolted awake, threw off his blanket, and sat up, listening intently. It was indeed the telephone ringing. After a moment, he heard footsteps approaching from the corridor. Sensing something amiss, he hastily threw on his clothes and got out of bed. The duty attendant had already reached his door. "A call from Shuangqiao—they said the master is looking for Third Young Master."

His heart sank. He hurried through the corridor to the second floor, not bothering with formalities, and knocked lightly three times. Murong Qingyi was usually a heavy sleeper, but this time he awoke at the sound. "What is it?" he asked.

"Shuangqiao says the master is looking for you."

Hearing this, Murong Qingyi knew something had happened. In no time, he came downstairs. Lei Shaogong had already ordered the car to be prepared. Once inside the vehicle, he said, "They didn’t specify what it was, but—" He paused here. It was still so early; it must be an emergency, likely not good news.

The rain was pouring heavily. The car’s headlights cut through a vast, white expanse of water. The surroundings were filled with the roar of rain, as if the heavens had burst open, the downpour relentless and intensifying. The distance from Duan Mountain to Shuangqiao wasn’t far, but the gloomy sky and heavy rain forced them to drive cautiously, taking nearly an hour to reach Bichong River. Above the river stood two stone arch bridges, one to the east and one to the west, which gave Shuangqiao its name. By then, the rain had begun to ease. The asphalt road was flooded, glistening like winding ribbons of glass, while the river surged turbulently, its waters submerging much more of the bridge piers than usual. A patch of the dark sky finally turned blue, fading gradually into the pale hue of a crab shell as the light grew brighter. After crossing the bridge, they spotted over a dozen cars parked in front of Shuangqiao Official Residence from a distance.

They would usually drive straight in, but Lei Shaogong, ever cautious, glanced at Murong Qingyi. Murong Qingyi said, "Stop the car." They parked outside, and an attendant from the residence came out with an umbrella. By now, the sky was brightening. Walking along the long corridor, they saw the plants on either side battered and disheveled by the fierce rain. Chrysanthemums in full bloom, their heavy, waterlogged heads nearly bowed into the mud. Shuangqiao Official Residence was an old estate, its courtyards serene and deep. The sound of leather shoes echoed on the bluestone slabs of the corridor. Turning right, they arrived at the east drawing room.