Overdo

He dodged his head to the side, and the porcelain vase shattered into pieces. Immediately after, he slapped her, the coppery sweetness of pain instantly overwhelming all her senses, her ears filled with a buzzing hum. Dizzily, she fell onto the soft couch, instinctively covering her cheek. He grabbed her abruptly, and she stumbled into his embrace. His eyes were wild and desperate, like a dying beast, and he wanted her to accompany him to the grave!

She was like a bird trapped in a cage, frantically tearing at her own feathers. She grabbed whatever she could and hurled it at him—the lamp fell to the floor with a dull thud. She stepped on the shards of the vase, her slipper flying off, the sharp edges slicing into her foot with excruciating pain. Crimson blood seeped into the carpet, yet she felt nothing, for the agony in her heart had long surpassed everything else. But when he saw the blooming bloodstain, he suddenly released her, stepping far back, his eyes filled with a profound sorrow she could not comprehend.

She gasped for breath in ragged gulps. He lowered his gaze, his arm bearing faint marks—the scars from where she had bitten him last year, so deeply and fiercely that they remained to this day.

He said, "Tomorrow, I will speak to Father—we are getting a divorce."

Summoning all her strength, she lifted her face, struggling to suppress her breathing. In the end, he no longer wanted her. How could one rely on beauty to sustain a relationship? He had been captivated by her looks, infatuated for a moment, but how could such infatuation last a lifetime? This face of hers had easily ruined her entire life. A faint smile touched her lips. From the very day they met, she had known that his world was one she could never belong to for long.

Madam Murong heard that Murong Feng was losing his temper in the study and feared the situation would escalate, so she hurried over. She heard Murong Feng say, "Tell me, what has Susu ever done to wrong you?" Murong Qingyi stood before the desk, his head lowered in silence. Murong Feng continued, "Now, after all this time, you want a divorce? Back then, when I asked you, you said you had thought it through. How could you change your mind in less than a year? You are fickle and bullying, taking advantage of your position!" Seeing his voice grow louder, Madam Murong feared her son would suffer, so she quickly interjected, "Lao San is indeed in the wrong, but there's no need for you to get so angry. Let me handle him."

Murong Feng retorted, "It's because you've spoiled him since childhood that he's become so frivolous. Look at him—he actually came to me asking for a divorce. If this gets out, it will be a huge scandal!"

Hearing the severity in his tone and realizing he was blaming her as well, Madam Murong knew he was truly enraged. Softening her voice, she said, "Lao San is indeed reckless. It's one thing to fool around outside, but he must know his limits. From what I see, Susu doesn’t seem like someone without tolerance. Why must you insist on a divorce? Are you deliberately trying to disgrace us?"

Seeing his mother’s displeasure and her veiled accusations, Murong Qingyi remained silent. Sure enough, Murong Feng snorted and said, "Don’t use the child as an excuse to make insinuations."

Madam Murong replied, "What did I say? You sound so defensive."

Murong Feng shot back, "Why should I be defensive? Every time I try to discipline him, you shield him without even understanding the situation. I want to see just how far you plan to indulge him."Madam Murong said, "His reckless behavior today is simply a case of like father, like son." This remark was too pointed, and Murong Qingyi quickly interjected, "Mother!" Yet Madam Murong lifted her chin, slowly revealing her usual dignified and composed smile. Murong Feng was inwardly furious. Gazing at the scroll hanging on the wall bearing his own calligraphy of the characters "Tranquility," his thoughts surged wildly as he struggled to restrain himself. Murong Qingyi heard his breathing, heavy and rapid, gradually calm down. Finally, Murong Feng shifted his gaze to Murong Qingyi and said, "You're so hopeless. From now on, I won't meddle in your affairs anymore. Divorce is absolutely out of the question. If you truly don't want to be with her, just have her move out."

Murong Qingyi remained silent, head bowed. Murong Feng slammed his hand on the desk, causing the brush holder and inkstone to tremble slightly. "Are you still not going to get out?!"

He retreated from the study, and Madam Murong followed him out. Murong Qingyi said, "Mom, don't take it to heart. Father is upset about official matters, so he's just seeking some amusement outside." Madam Murong looked at him intently and asked, "Third Son, do you really want to separate from Susu?" Murong Qingyi turned his head away, staring down the empty corridor where an aide-de-camp passed by carrying a large stack of official documents. The faint sound of a telephone ringing from the duty room in the distance seemed to belong to another world.

He said, "Yes—I don't want to see her anymore."

The house was located in the suburbs of Wuchi, not far from the Shuangqiao Official Residence. It had originally been purchased as a new residence for Murong Qingyi when he married, but since Madam Murong preferred having her children close by, Murong Qingyi and Susu had never moved in. On a rare clear autumn night, the moonlight was as cool as water, reflecting off the withered stems and fallen leaves trembling in the lotus pond. Suddenly, she remembered that autumn evening when he had pointed out to her a pond of lush green lotus leaves, crowded together like emerald canopies, with lotus buds standing gracefully above the water—pale white and soft pink, bathed in moonlight. Under the shimmering lights, the water and sky merged, making the flowers and leaves appear as splendid as brocade. It was a captivating beauty preserved by the warm springs, untainted by the mundane world, so exquisite it seemed to defy nature—and thus, it incurred the envy of worldly things.

The autumn begonias beneath the stone steps had bloomed, one timid branch slanting as if too fragile to withstand the wind. In a few days, autumn grass would sprout beneath these steps as well. The moon palace, long steeped in sorrow, forgets the spring; golden halls gather the dust of autumn. The bright mirror hanging in the night sky shines alone upon the woman in the Palace of Eternal Spring. This round moon, shining bleakly, remains ignorant of human grief. Only fools in this world would wish for its fullness—yet in the blink of an eye, it wanes into a slender, cold crescent, like a poorly drawn eyebrow, rigidly curved and coldly pressed against flesh and bone.

The servant, Xinjie, came looking for her and said, "Young Mistress, these bluestone steps are chilling, and the autumn night wind is especially harmful. You should go back inside."

Cold and warmth, day and night, rain and clear skies, spring and autumn—from now on, what difference would any of it make to her?

Feeling a slight chill on her pillow, she got up and lifted a corner of the curtain. It was raining. The sky was a deep gray, and the sparse raindrops, dripping from the eaves, fell with a sound that seemed to strike directly at her heart. The roses had bloomed, their delicate petals as if they could melt with a single breath. When the roses bloom, the spring has passed—this spring was already gone.

The face in the mirror was pale and dull, even her lips devoid of color. Xinjie came over and opened the wardrobe door, saying, "Today is a joyous occasion. Wear this red one."The silk nightgown draped down to her ankles, cool and soft, like the evening breeze brushing coldly against her skin. In the dressing room, a row of luxurious garments hung in a riot of colors—silks, embroideries, brocades... scattered blossoms, clustered flowers, trailing branches... subtle patterns or vivid embroidery, intricate beadwork—a life of opulence and splendor, nothing more than a dreamlike grand play... She obediently changed into that silver-red cheongsam. Xin Jie said, "Young Mistress should wear brighter colors like this on ordinary days. So young and lovely, like a flower."

A beauty like a flower—those peach and plum blossoms, vibrant and fresh, had long been swept away by the flowing water, buried at the ends of the earth.

She took the car to Shuangqiao Official Residence. Madam Murong was in the small parlor and, upon seeing her, stretched out her hand from afar, "Good child." She softly called out, "Mother." Madam Murong examined her closely, adjusted the brooch on her chest, and said, "This is the one I had sent to you last time—I thought then it would suit your temperament perfectly."

The brooch came from a famous foreign jewelry company, with three diamonds that sparkled under the light like a trail of fine tears. But Madam Murong added, "There will surely be reporters later. Go to my dressing room—someone is waiting there. Have them redo your makeup and hair."

She softly replied, "Yes."

Makeup and hairstyling were both extremely time-consuming tasks. When she came back downstairs, she heard a voice both familiar and strange outside the door, and her steps faltered slightly. She had always walked lightly, almost silently, but Jin Rui turned and saw her, calling out, "Susu." Then she added, "You should wear makeup more often—it makes you look livelier."

Willow-leaf brows long untouched by makeup, ruined cosmetics and tears staining the red silk, no grooming all day in the secluded chamber—why console loneliness with pearls?... This entire display of jeweled brilliance, radiant and dazzling, was merely playing the part of an embellished flower in public, making others envious. Beyond that, what room did she have left?

Murong Qingyi did not even turn his face toward her. Madam Murong said, "Susu must not have eaten breakfast either. Qingyi, go with her to have something to eat. The banquet isn't until two in the afternoon—there are still several hours to go."