Overdo

Seeing her flatly deny it, he said coldly, "I've done what you asked me to do. We're even now, with no further obligations. You'd better not pull such pointless stunts again, or you'll surely regret it." Wang Qilin chuckled softly, "No wonder everyone says you're the most heartless—it's true indeed." Not wanting to engage further, he hung up the phone without another word.

By ten o'clock that evening, his anxiety had grown. He sat trying to review official documents but found himself distracted. Lei Shaogong, fearing something might go wrong, had stayed behind. Occasionally glancing at the clock in the corner, he noted that the attendants sent out to search had yet to return with any news. Murong Qingyi's worry finally boiled over. With a sharp "smack," he tossed the documents in his hand onto the desk and declared, "I'm going out to look for her myself." Before he could finish, the telephone rang. Lei Shaogong hurried to answer it. It was Mulan, who didn't seem to recognize his voice, mistaking him for an ordinary servant, and said, "May I speak with the young mistress?" Hearing her tone, Lei Shaogong felt an inexplicable pang of unease and asked, "Is this Mrs. Zhang? Isn't the Third Young Mistress with you?"

Mulan replied, "I just returned from being out and heard that someone had called for me, so I'm returning the call. Who is this—?" Lei Shaogong said, "This is Lei Shaogong. Didn't the Third Young Mistress have an appointment with you today?" Mulan explained, "We had dinner at Yunhua Terrace, and then she left first. I went to listen to an opera, which is why I'm only back now."

Murong Qingyi, who had been listening all along, grew even more concerned. Fearful that something untoward had happened, his anxiety clouded his judgment. He immediately turned to Lei Shaogong and said, "Call Zhu Xunwen and have him send people to help." Lei Shaogong hesitated, wanting to say more but knowing any advice would fall on deaf ears, so he reluctantly went to make the call.

Meanwhile, Wang Qilin held the telephone receiver, listening to the dial tone. Before her stood a full-length mirror reflecting her figure in a vibrant rose-red cheongsam, her posture languidly leaning against a tall stand. In the mirror, she resembled a flower in full bloom, her fair complexion lightly touched with rouge, as if not to waste this beautiful evening. She replaced the receiver but deliberately lingered for a moment, then let out a soft, mocking laugh at her reflection. Slowly, she tidied her hair before passing through the flower hall into the inner room, where she offered Susu a charming smile. "I'm so sorry, that phone call took much longer than expected."

Susu replied indifferently, "It's quite late, Miss Wang. If there's nothing else, I should be going." Wang Qilin smiled coyly and said, "How thoughtless of me to keep you here so long, just chattering away. Let me have the driver take you home." Susu declined, "That won't be necessary." Wang Qilin continued, "At least today, I've had the chance to clarify things in your presence. The Third Young Master and I are truly just ordinary friends. Those rumors circulating outside are utterly ridiculous. It's good that you don't take them to heart. But as the saying goes, 'Public opinion can melt metal and accumulated slander can destroy bones.' I just feel there's no way to defend myself. Meeting you today and being able to explain face-to-face has put my mind at ease."

Susu responded, "There's no need for such courtesy, Miss Wang." She was never one for many words, her tone remaining aloof. Wang Qilin personally saw her out, repeatedly insisting on having the driver take her home, but Susu said, "I'll take a rickshaw back myself. There's no need for you to trouble yourself, Miss Wang." Wang Qilin smiled faintly and had no choice but to summon a rickshaw for her.Susu took a pedicab home. The night was deep, and the streets were quiet. As the vehicle moved through the cool breeze, she stared blankly, lost in thought. Earlier at the Wang residence, separated by a zitan and jade screen, she had faintly overheard a slightly raised voice: "You heartless creature." The soft, cooing words were like blossoms whispering or jade exuding fragrance—the person on the other end of the phone must have felt their heart stir upon hearing it. The sharp pain buried in memories, once unearthed, still felt as if it were tearing her heart and shattering her guts. So, she and that woman had spoken before, in that distant past. Now, it was merely tearing open an old wound and sprinkling salt on it.

She had arrived, yet she was still deceiving herself. His life was a garden blooming with vibrant flowers, and she was but a single blossom adorning it. His occasional affection and pity had stirred unreasonable hopes in her. Merely because she bore a title, he had gone out of his way to make things worse in front of her. The greatest irony was this: the phone call, the charming words and laughter, the romantic scene unfolding—never imagining she was just a few steps away.

She said to the pedicab driver, "Please stop up ahead." The driver turned back in surprise, "We haven't arrived yet." She said nothing, handing over a five-yuan note. The driver paused for a moment, then stopped the vehicle. "I can't make change for this."

"Keep the change." Seeing the unconcealed joy on the other's face, she felt only endless sorrow... Money, for others, could always bring some measure of happiness. So easily, five yuan could buy a smile, yet for her, a smile had become something unattainable.

The shop was about to close. She ordered a bowl of taro and ate it slowly. The owner bustled about, tidying tables and chairs, sweeping and dusting. The owner's wife washed dishes at the stove, scrubbing them while muttering to her husband, "Look at you, sweeping the floor like you're drawing talismans. I must have owed you from a past life!" Wiping her hands on her apron, she snatched the broom and swept herself. The owner chuckled, scratched his head, and went back to washing dishes. The simple joys of an ordinary couple, their every word and action so commonplace—she had missed such happiness, and it would forever remain beyond her reach.

Setting down her spoon, she drifted into a daze. When she looked up, she was startled to find someone standing before her, and slowly, surprise dawned on her face. "Mr. Zhang."

Zhang Mingshu forced a smile and, after a moment, called out, "Miss Ren."

He still used the old form of address. A bitter smile touched Susu's lips. In this world, there was still someone who remembered her as Ren Susu, not as the Third Young Mistress. Yet she asked, "It's so late—why are you here?"

Zhang Mingshu said, "I was on my way home, passing by the Wang residence, and I happened to see you getting into a pedicab." He had only been worried, thinking to escort her back secretly, so he had his driver follow from a distance. But then she had gotten off midway, and he, unable to help himself, had followed her into the shop—as if bewitched, unable to tear his eyes away.

Susu sighed softly and said, "I'm fine. You should go." He had no choice but to agree, lowering his head as he slowly walked out.

The bowl of taro had gone cold, and after eating it, her stomach felt as if weighed down by a heavy stone. She stood on the street as if sleepwalking, the passersby sparse, occasional car lights slicing through the darkness. A pedicab rang its bell, and the driver asked, "Need a ride, miss?"

Still dazed, she got into the vehicle and heard the driver ask again, "Where to?"Where to go? Though the world was vast, she had nowhere to turn. The so-called home was nothing but an exquisite cage, trapping her for life. Suddenly, a surge of defiance rose from the dull ache within her—she refused to return to that house. Even if only for a moment’s respite, even if only for a fleeting escape, it would be better.

In a tiny, cramped inn, the blue cotton bedding reminded her of her earliest childhood days, when both her parents were still alive, and she was a child with a home. Mother was too busy with chores to attend to her, so she had to place her on the bed to play. She was an exceptionally quiet child, content to sit for hours with just the bedding. Occasionally, Mother would glance back at her, kiss her forehead, and praise her as "good." That single word would keep her sitting quietly for another long while. The warmth of Mother’s soft lips seemed to linger on her forehead, yet time flowed by like a rushing stream, as fleeting as a dream. She remembered when she first joined the ballet Dance Troupe, how confidently Mulan had declared, "I want to be the biggest, brightest star." Then she had asked, "And you?" Back then, she had only replied, "I want to have a home."

Luxury, admiration, and acclaim—in the stillness of midnight, with moonlight like water, it all flickered like an illusion. Even when he was occasionally by her side, it felt unreal and hazy. Now, even that unreality had vanished into ashes, leaving behind only a broken dream. Her lifelong wish had always been for the simplest, most ordinary happiness. Yet the brief three to five years since she met him had already felt like a lifetime—a lifetime destined for loneliness and sorrow.

Outside the window, the sky gradually faded into lotus-blue, then turned dove-gray, and slowly, a sliver of fish-belly white emerged. Though the night had once been so dark, the sky, after all, had brightened. Yet she remained forever trapped in the abyss of darkness, unable to yearn for the dawn.

She waited until nearly noon before leaving her room. As soon as she opened the door, Zhang Mingshu, standing in the corridor outside, abruptly took two steps back, his expression a mix of relief and unease. Seeing her gaze upon him, he instinctively turned his face away. Slowly, she understood—he had been too worried to leave her alone last night and had followed her, even keeping watch here all night.

His devotion… How could Mulan bear it? She gripped the doorframe, lowering her head weakly. Finally, he spoke, "I… The driver is outside. I’ll have him take you back."

Her steps felt light, as if she were walking on clouds. Her voice, too, seemed utterly exhausted. "I’ll go back myself." Stumbling, she made her way out, but just as she reached the hallway, she tripped over the threshold. He rushed forward. "Be careful."