Overdo

The chestnuts pressed against her chest, their hardness making her breathless. She lowered her head. "You don't need to know." As expected, her words provoked a cold laugh from him. "Indeed, I don't—"

She remained silent, and he stood motionless. The sky darkened as the vast twilight quietly closed in from all directions. The light gradually dimmed, obscuring his face in the shadows. Finally, she asked, "Why have you come?" This was no place for him—a man of jade halls and golden horses, always bathed in the admiration of the masses, living a life of dazzling splendor and glory.

He said nothing, and she seemed to gather courage instead. "Leave," she said. His eyes seemed to spit fire, but her heart grew calm as she watched him. He turned his face away, his voice sounding strangely weary. "You said you wanted to marry me. I agreed."

She took a step back in shock and terror. His expression was ferocious, as if he wanted to devour her, yet his eyes held a look of utter disgust, as though she were a flood beast or the most loathsome demon in the world. He pressed his lips tightly together, watching her.

Overwhelmed by fear, she blurted out instinctively, "I don't want to marry you."

Even in the darkness, she could see his hawk-like eyes sharpen abruptly, the veins on his forehead bulging. His breathing grew rapid, almost panting. With a swift motion, he slapped her across the face. The blow left her ears ringing and her vision darkening; she nearly stumbled forward. But then his grip tightened on her wrist, sending a bone-shattering pain through her. His voice seemed to squeeze through clenched teeth. "Have you had enough?"

Tears streamed down her face from the pain. He shoved her against the wall and kissed her brutally, with a force that felt less like a kiss and more like an attempt to kill her. Sobbing and struggling, she pounded his back with her fists, but he caught her wrists, rendering her powerless. In desperation, she bit his lip. He finally released her with a grunt of pain. Trembling and choking back sobs, she curled into the corner. He stared at her as if she were a venomous snake. She couldn't understand why he hated her so intensely—his entire being radiated a piercing hatred, sharp and bone-chilling like the biting wind outside.

Through gritted teeth, he said, "You're toying with me. You're just toying with me." Yet her damned tears were tearing him apart inside! How could such a woman exist? And how had he allowed himself to be manipulated and played by her, twisted around her finger?

She had asked to marry him, and he had agreed. Now she casually declared she didn't want to—she was clearly reveling in his turmoil, delighting in watching him come to her only to be mocked.

Finally, he turned and left.Lei Shaogong was pacing by the car and hurriedly opened the door when he saw him come out. Noticing his poor complexion, he didn’t dare ask too much and took the initiative to have the car return to Duan Mountain. As soon as they entered, Murong Qingyi grabbed a crystal ashtray and smashed it to the ground, shattering it to pieces, yet still feeling no relief. He picked up a horsewhip and lashed it randomly at the wall. Lei Shaogong watched as he struck the wall again and again, so fiercely that the plaster soon peeled away, revealing the gray bricks beneath. Dust and debris flew everywhere, scattering and drifting down. But Murong Qingyi only struck harder and faster with each lash. The sharp sound of the whip cutting through the air echoed like muffled thunderclaps as it hit the bricks. Though he had a temper, Lei Shaogong had never seen him this enraged and grew worried. He rushed forward and grabbed his arm, almost pleading, "Third Young Master, Third Young Master, if you keep this up, I’ll have no choice but to call Madam."

His hand stilled, and he finally lowered it. The whip fell onto the carpet. Beads of sweat covered his forehead, yet his face remained expressionless. Lei Shaogong said anxiously, "If you take a bath and get some sleep, you’ll feel better." Pressing a hand to his damp forehead, Murong Qingyi rasped, "I must be bewitched."

Lei Shaogong replied, "It’s nothing. Sleep it off, and you’ll be fine by tomorrow."

He nodded slowly and went upstairs to bathe. When he came out, only a dim lamp lit half the room in shadow. He pulled back the covers, and a faint fragrance rose from the bedding—like the scent of flowers, yet not quite, and nothing like incense. The aroma was unfamiliar yet somehow familiar. He buried his face in the pillow, where the scent was even fainter and more elusive. Utterly exhausted, he fell asleep within moments. But his sleep was far from restful. In the middle of the night, he stirred drowsily, the fragrance lingering faintly around him, seeming to seep deep into his bones. The room was warm, and in his muddled half-sleep, he suddenly called out, "Susu." All was silent around him; in the darkness, only his own breathing could be heard. He reached out—she always curled up like a child in her sleep, tucked away in the farthest corner of the bed, away from him. But his hand met empty space, and his heart felt hollowed out.

He remembered Lei Shaogong saying, "You’ll be fine by tomorrow." A bone-chilling cold washed over him. Tomorrow would not be better. It would never be better again.

That day was the fourteenth of the twelfth lunar month, the start of the City God Temple Fair. Zhang Mingshu wanted to invite Susu to the fair, but his home was crowded with guests, and he couldn’t get away. Several cousins pulled him into a game of mahjong, and he had no choice but to sit down with them. Distracted, he only half-listened as his eldest cousin asked, "I heard you’re sponsoring a ballet troupe. Which one is it?"

He replied, "The Yun Troupe."

His eldest cousin remarked, "The Yun Troupe has an exceptionally beautiful dancer. I wonder if you’ve met her?" At these words, Zhang Mingshu’s ears burned inexplicably. He mumbled, "What beauty? All those ballet girls are quite lovely." The eldest cousin said, "It’s the one who played Yingtai in The Butterfly Lovers a few months back. My, she’s truly stunning—even more striking than many film stars."

Another cousin, the fourth, laughed and said, "Listen to you—sounding utterly infatuated. If you’re so taken with her, why not try to pursue her?"The eldest cousin shook his head and said, "Not many outsiders know about this. Do you know whose woman she is? Even if you lent me ten times the courage, I wouldn’t dare to covet her."

Zhang Mingshu asked, "Is this young lady surnamed Fang?" As he spoke, he set down a tile and asked, "Does anyone want the five of bamboo?" The eldest cousin quickly said, "Leave it there—I have a flush." Everyone overturned their tiles to calculate points and settle payments. Amid the clatter of shuffling the mahjong tiles, the fourth cousin chuckled and said, "Mingshu, your luck is down today. Losing at the gambling table might mean you’re winning in love. From the way you spoke, it sounds like you’re quite familiar with Miss Fang?"

Before Zhang Mingshu could respond, the eldest cousin interjected, "I wasn’t talking about Miss Fang. I meant a young lady surnamed Ren."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Mingshu felt as if struck by a thunderbolt out of the blue. His hands slowed as he stacked the tiles, pausing mid-action. The fourth cousin continued with his playful grin, "Even someone as bold as you claims not to dare—I’d really like to know what makes this Miss Ren so formidable."