Overdo

Mulan replied, "He often goes to show his support." She then shared some amusing anecdotes from the troupe, and Susu listened with rapt fascination. "Hmm, I'd really like to see everyone," she said. In high spirits, Mulan gave a playful smile and remarked, "That would be wonderful, but I'm afraid it'll turn into a grand affair again, making the director terribly nervous." Susu responded, "Next time I have a moment, I'll go alone without anyone knowing."

They chatted like this for two hours. Remembering it was Mid-Autumn Festival and that there was a small family dinner in the evening, Susu reluctantly had to leave, though she was loath to part. By the time she returned home, it was already dusk. A fine drizzle was falling, blurring the dark outlines of the trees. The house was brightly lit, with servants coming and going. The family dinner had no outsiders; Jin Rui and his wife had brought their children, instantly filling the place with liveliness. Murong Feng, rarely so relaxed, amused himself playing with his grandchildren. Murong Qingyi was the last to return. As it was a festival, Madam Murong, fearing Murong Feng might get upset, quickly said, "Let's have dinner now."

The children made the meal lively with their chatter. Madam Murong remarked, "When they were little, I taught them not to speak while eating, and they all listened. Now that they're older, they've forgotten their manners." Murong Feng said, "They're naturally lively—why force them to be as dull as adults?" Madam Murong replied, "You've always indulged them. The moment you see them, you soften. It's strange—Jin Rui and Weiyi are one thing, but especially with the third one, you were so strict with him since childhood. I never thought you'd dote on them like this now." The youngest boy, Jieru, piped up clearly, "Grandpa is the best! Grandpa's ears are soft, so I like Grandpa the most!" This made the whole family laugh. Susu was smiling too, but when she turned her head, she suddenly noticed Murong Qingyi looking at her. His gaze caused the smile on her lips to freeze silently, then gradually fade into a helpless curve.

Seventeen

As usual, he left after dinner. Worried that Susu might be upset, Madam Murong deliberately called her over to talk. "Susu, don't take it to heart. He has his difficulties outside, and it's rare that you understand him so well," she said. Susu softly replied, "Yes." Madam Murong held her hand gently and said, "The third one is just stubborn with his words, but deep down, he values you the most—don't pay attention to his nonsense. I'll scold him later. I can see something's weighing on your mind, but you won't say it. Are you upset with him?" Susu shook her head lightly and said, "I'm not upset with him."

Madam Murong continued, "He hasn't been happy lately, but you don't have to always give in to him. Between husband and wife, what can't be spoken? I think you should talk with the third one properly. As his mother, I can only say so much. It pains me to see you two stuck like this."

Susu lowered her head and murmured, "It's all my fault for making you worry, Mother."

Madam Murong sighed and patted her hand. "Good child, listen to me—talk with him. Between husband and wife, there are no grudges that last overnight. Once you speak openly, everything will be fine."Susu was preoccupied with her thoughts, her expression somewhat dazed. Mulan pressed a spoon against the back of her hand, startling her. Mulan smiled and asked, "What are you thinking about? You seem so lost in thought." Susu pulled herself together and said, "It's nothing. You asked me out today, saying you had something to tell me?" Mulan's face flushed slightly as she replied, "Susu, there's something I need to say—please don't blame me." Susu, puzzled, asked, "What is it?" Mulan said, "I know he... originally liked you."

For a moment, Susu was lost in thought, recalling the three pinwheels, but within a second, a bitter, hidden pain surged within her. He had been so good to her, yet her heart had long been unable to make room—for that man, so domineering, who had tormented her endlessly like an endless dream, it was him who had so ruthlessly taken everything from her. A life-and-death devotion had made her cling to futile hopes, but in the end, she had been mistaken. She had lost her heart, lost everything, only to be cast aside like worthless trash.

Seeing her dazed expression, Mulan 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 and was momentarily stunned. The aide-de-camp in the car saw her gaze and, realizing she had noticed, had no choice but to steel himself and step out of the vehicle. "Young Madam." Though she found it strange, she didn't dwell on it. The aide-de-camp, feeling guilty, quickly explained, "Third Young Master is at Shuangqiao. We're out on other business."

His words gradually made things clear to Susu. She nodded and uttered an "Mm," then bid farewell to Mulan and got into the car to leave.

That evening, Murong Qingyi unexpectedly returned home for dinner. Madam Murong had accompanied Murong Feng to a state banquet, leaving only Weiyi at home. The vast dining room felt cold and desolate with just the three of them. Weiyi tried hard to make conversation, asking, "Third Brother, what have you been busy with lately?" Murong Qingyi replied, "Just official matters." He glanced at Susu and saw her usual indifferent expression, which inexplicably filled him with bitterness and irritation. The pair of gold-inlaid ivory chopsticks in his hand felt as if they had sprouted thorns, making them almost impossible to hold, and he nearly threw them down. She paid him no mind—not even bothering to ask a single question or show the slightest warmth.

After dinner, Susu went to the study to read. She picked up a volume of Song dynasty lyrics, but the lines were fragmented: "Eight shuttles, whose poem is this palindrome? Woven into a tapestry of desolation, line by line I read, languid and silent, unable to bear further reflection. Twin flowers, twin leaves, and twin branches... Unable to bear further reflection, a thousand in gold to buy a rhapsody—how could it win a glance back?" She had long lost her courage, and today's encounter was merely the final reality she had to face. She forced back the tears in her eyes, feeling as humble and insignificant as the faintest speck of dust. What right did she have to question him? She had known all along that his attraction to her was merely superficial, evident from the very beginning when he had taken her by force.

She lingered until midnight before returning to her room. Only a nightlight was on, casting a dim glow. She sat down softly on the couch, and he suddenly turned over and sat up—she realized he had been awake all along. Noticing a cup of tea on the bedside table, she reached for it, but it had long gone cold. Hesitating, she set it down again and finally stammered, "I... I'll go get a fresh, hot cup."

His voice was stiff as he replied, "No need."She suddenly felt weary as well, stepping back to sit down again, like a snail wishing to retreat into its shell—yet she didn’t even possess a fragile shell like that.

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

Her voice was barely audible. “Ask what?” What did he want her to ask? Why he stayed out all night? Who he spent his nights with? The names she had inadvertently overheard in the gossip of relatives and friends? She had long since dried up her tears—what more did he want her to ask?! Outside the window, the wind and rain rustled, the city was abuzz as the Double Ninth Festival approached, and even the heavens refused to show mercy.

Her silhouette under the lamplight was so gaunt and frail that it stirred pain in his heart. As if in a nightmare, he reached out his hand, but she instinctively shrank back slightly. The pain in his heart instantly flared up like oil poured on a fire, roaring and spreading uncontrollably, igniting the last remnants of his hatred.

He sneered coldly, “On this day last year, you begged me to find the child.” Her eyes widened as she stared at him. The deepest, most untouchable scar in her heart had been abruptly torn open by him, the scab ripped away, exposing a raw, bloody wound that tugged at her very core, leaving her no room to breathe. The dark intensity in his eyes pressed menacingly close. “I’ll tell you now—the child is dead.”

She trembled all over, mustering the last of her strength to clutch the cold, carved flowers on the edge of the couch. Her lips quivered, but she couldn’t utter a word. Yet he refused to let her go. “That child died last year. In this lifetime, you will never see him again.” One hand clutched tightly at her collar, as if only by doing so could she grasp a breath of air. A strange smile curled at the corner of his lips as he watched her tears burst forth, as if they were the blossoming flowers of his victory.

She no longer had the courage to hold on. Those tears no longer seemed to flow from her eyes but from the hot blood gushing from her heart. She lifted her face, weakly grabbing his sleeve as if in a final plea. Yet he looked at her with resolute cruelty, forcing her to retreat in despair. Her hand brushed against something cold—a piece of porcelain. In her frantic despair, she seized it and hurled it at him. This devil! He was a devil!