The Golden Hairpin

Huang Ziyao bit her lower lip and said softly, "Actually, in all these matters, I'm the one who wronged Young Master Wang. Today, I came specifically to apologize to you. I hope you can forgive all my past mistakes. Huang Ziyao will do everything in her power to make amends in this lifetime, so that Young Master Wang will no longer be shamed because of me."

Wang Yun hadn't expected her to admit her faults so frankly right from the start. He was momentarily stunned, and his originally frosty expression softened slightly. He gazed at her lowered face for a long time before finally letting out a long sigh. "But why would you harm your own family for that person?"

"I didn't." A pain like reopening wounds seemed to spread through her chest as Huang Ziyao suppressed her emotions, her voice trembling. "I disguised myself and traveled thousands of miles to the capital precisely to use the court's power to capture the real culprit and clear my family's name!"

Wang Yun remained silent for a long while before saying, "Some things may just be the whims of fate. Please accept my condolences."

She bit her lip and nodded silently, doing her utmost to hold back her tears. Seeing her pale face and stubbornly pressed lips, a complex emotion welled up in his chest. Unable to help himself, he said quietly, "Actually, I never believed you could be the murderer. At first, I thought you might seek refuge with your father's old friends, so I visited many of his acquaintances' residences to investigate, but never found any trace of you. I just never imagined you'd transform yourself into a eunuch by Prince Kui's side."

"That was also a matter of chance. I encountered some trouble on the road and met Prince Kui. We made an exchange—if I could help him resolve one matter, he would help clear my name and reopen the case in Shu." Huang Ziyao lowered her lashes, her voice somber. "I just never expected the matter he entrusted me to solve would be his marriage, involving your family's secrets."

"That can't be helped. It's not your fault." Wang Yun sighed again and added, "During the polo match this morning, my attitude was also quite impatient. Please don't take it to heart."

His unexpected leniency and his apology for his own behavior only made Huang Ziyao feel even more deeply guilty.

The two sat down in the pavilion, kneeling opposite each other at a low table. The breeze from all directions brought a refreshing coolness, while the shimmering reflections outside merged with the lamplight inside, creating a bright yet hazy atmosphere.

Wang Yun didn't continue their earlier conversation. Instead, he served her some pastries, saying, "Last time you visited my home, I noticed you particularly enjoyed cherry buns. Since cherries are no longer in season, try this green plum bun instead."

The green plum bun was placed in a white porcelain cup, topped with crushed rose preserves—a vivid contrast of crimson and emerald. The sweet preserves blended perfectly with the tart green plums, creating an exquisite appetizer.

Seeing her enjoy the pastry, Wang Yun moved the plate closer to her and remarked casually, "Many young women like green plums. But in truth, they're extremely sour and astringent. Only when paired with copious amounts of honey can they be preserved into something palatable."

Hearing the implied meaning in his words, Huang Ziyao paused and looked up at him.

His gaze remained fixed on her as he continued calmly, "Without honey, insisting on picking and eating such things would only bring unnecessary bitterness, wouldn't it?"Huang Zixiang lowered her gaze, biting her lower lip in silence for a moment before saying, "Like drinking water, only the drinker knows if it's cold or warm. Those who have never tasted it may never truly understand."

Wang Yun smiled faintly and passed her another plate of golden shredded delicacies.

The moonlight outside shimmered on the water's surface, streaming through the wide-open doors and windows, casting rippling reflections all around. Kneeling before him, Huang Zixiang gazed at his near-smile, a tumult of emotions surging in her chest, yet unsure how to voice them. Several times she parted her lips, only for the words to dissolve in her throat. In the end, she could only lower her head, pretending to focus on her meal.

Wang Yun sat across from her, quietly studying her downcast face. She was still the girl he had glimpsed three years ago, though the softness of youth had faded, revealing a stubborn and striking profile.

Three years ago... She was fourteen, and he was merely a sixteen-year-old boy, eager yet bashful to catch sight of his legendary, extraordinarily talented fiancée. He had needed to drag a friend along to the palace just to steal a glance.

That spring afternoon, she had worn a three-layered silver-red gauze dress, with a white shawl adorned in varying shades of purple wisteria blossoms.

At the end of the palace corridor, standing behind a group of palace maids, she had been more slender and ethereal than anyone else, like the first budding orchid of spring. He had watched her unblinkingly, afraid to miss this precious opportunity.

When she finally turned her head at the corridor's end, the face he had imagined countless times burst before him like fireworks in the silent night. That spring, the curve of her profile had been carved into his heart with the sharpest blade, never to fade.

Yet the girl he had etched into his heart for over three years had dealt him the most humiliating blow. In the days that followed, he had tossed and turned, unable to eat or sleep. The profile engraved in his heart bled, scabbed over, and left a scar that would never fade. He had wondered endlessly—what had gone wrong? Why had the fiancée he had longed for, as beautiful as an orchid in bloom, brought him such disgrace, crushing all his hopes with her own hands?

Now, as he gazed at Huang Zixiang before him, recalling three years of dashed expectations and the source of his and his family's shame, he found himself at a loss for words.

Huang Zixiang felt his gaze like a weight on her chest, a suffocating sensation that made her heart sink deeper and deeper.

Slowly setting her porcelain plate back on the table, she bit her lip and murmured, "I'm sorry... I had thought... to discuss this with you calmly, to resolve it between us without involving outsiders..."

"Resolve... what exactly do you mean?" Wang Yun asked slowly, his eyes fixed on her.

Huang Zixiang pressed her lips together, lifting her eyes to meet his. After a long pause, she forced out the words: "I mean... to dissolve our engagement."

Wang Yun's striking phoenix eyes bore into her as if trying to burn a hole through her. Just as she braced for his fury, he suddenly turned away, gazing at the slanting moon outside the window. His voice was low and steady: "I will not dissolve our engagement."Huang Zixiao's hand on the table unconsciously tightened into a fist.

His gaze drifted to the window, where the gentle evening breeze made the flower shadows outside sway and dance. He struggled to control himself, and the dark gloom on his face gradually faded. She heard his voice, soft as a whisper, even carrying a trace of unusual tenderness: "Huang Zixiao, you are my betrothed wife, bound by the formalities of three letters and six rites, witnessed by the marriage contract and horoscopes. No matter what crimes you’ve committed, no matter where you are, as long as I refuse to annul the engagement, you belong to me—and no one else—for the rest of your life."

Such tender words struck Huang Zixiao like a heavy blow to the chest. She looked up in shock, and amidst the flickering reflections of light and water, she saw his calm and composed face. Yet the entire world seemed to tremble violently around her, sending a surge of warmth through her heart, along with an inexplicable tension and fear.

She took deep breaths to steady herself and said quietly, "Thank you for your misplaced affection, Young Master Wang. But I don’t even know if I’ll ever be able to stand before others again… So I dare not delay you, nor burden you with years of waiting. After all, you are the eldest grandson of the main branch, with your own responsibilities. If the entire Langya Wang clan were to suffer because of me, Huang Zixiao would never find peace."

Yet he smiled faintly, reassuring her, "You needn’t worry. The Wang family will always support you and do everything to clear your name. And I will wait for you—until the truth comes to light."

Huang Zixiao shook her head stubbornly. "But I am no longer in control of my fate. My reputation is already in ruins, and I no longer dare to hope for the stability and fortune of an ordinary woman. In this life… I’m afraid you and I are destined to be apart. Please, Young Master Wang, choose another worthy match. Huang Zixiao… can only apologize for failing you."

His gaze burned into her, as if trying to see straight into her heart.

And Huang Zixiao, meeting his eyes, silently bit her lower lip.

After a long silence, she heard him speak softly, almost like a sigh: "Huang Zixiao, do you really think I can’t see through your heart, despite all these lofty excuses?"

A shiver ran down her spine. Under his penetrating gaze, she felt utterly exposed. She lacked the courage to look up at him, keeping her head bowed in silence. Only the flickering reflections from outside danced across her lashes, unsteady and wavering.

His voice remained gentle as he continued slowly, "You’re still thinking about that Yu Xuan, aren’t you?"

Huang Zixiao remained silent, her head still lowered. Her feelings were already common knowledge—no amount of denial or concealment would help. So she chose silence.

"Sometimes, I find myself helpless… even in pain," he said, staring fixedly at her, a hidden fire burning in his eyes. "My betrothed is in love with another man, and the whole world knows about it—yet that man isn’t me. Have you ever once considered how I feel?"

Huang Zixiao bowed her head deeply, her voice trembling as she replied, "I’m sorry… At this point, everything is my fault. Please, Young Master Wang, cast aside this ill-fated woman and choose another noble lady. Huang Zixiao… will repay all I owe you in the next life.""What use is a vague and uncertain afterlife to me?" His voice, always gentle, now carried a chilling edge. "Huang Zixiao, there's no need for you to say more. No matter where you are—be it the ends of the earth, the heavens above, or the underworld below—even in death, you will remain a member of the Wang family!"

His tone was resolute, leaving no room for negotiation.

Huang Zixiao knew in her heart that all her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Yet, she had no choice but to bow deeply before him and whisper, "Please forgive me, Wang Gongzi. The blood debt of my parents remains unpaid, and I cannot afford to indulge in personal affections. I hope you understand."

She straightened and turned to leave.

But then came the sound of rushing wind—her hand was seized abruptly.

It was Wang Yun. He had caught up from behind and grabbed her wrist.

Caught off guard, she instinctively turned to face him, only to meet his burning gaze fixed intently upon her.

Her heart trembled, and she involuntarily took a step back, only for her back to press against the wall, leaving her with nowhere else to retreat.

"That man... As my betrothed, is he the only one you think of?" He pressed her shoulders against the wall, his voice low but unable to suppress his bitterness. His face, usually as gentle as a spring breeze, now twisted with stormy fury. His gaze pierced her heart like a lashing tempest, leaving her weak and grief-stricken in an instant.

Had it not been for Yu Xuan, they would have been husband and wife by this spring.

Had it not been for the tragedy that shattered her life, perhaps the one standing before her now—handsome, gentle, noble, the perfect husband—would have been her partner for life. Maybe they could have shared a harmonious and peaceful existence, growing old together in mutual respect.

But now, all she felt was fear coursing through her chest. She turned her face away, unable to meet his eyes. Yet he leaned in, his heated breath brushing against her ear as he murmured, "Huang Zixiao..."

His voice, mingled with his ragged breaths, was slightly hoarse, scattering against her cheek with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

Pinning her against the wall, he lowered his head, aiming for her lips.

A cold sweat broke out across her body. Clenching her teeth, she mustered all her strength to raise her hands, ready to shove him away.

Just as her fingertips touched the fabric of his chest, a soft knock sounded at the open door. A voice outside whispered, "Young Master, a letter has arrived from Prince Kui's residence, addressed specifically to Eunuch Yang Chonggu."

Wang Yun seemed to snap back to reality in an instant.

He released Huang Zixiao's shoulders, stepping back twice as if dazed. After a moment of stunned silence, he turned toward the door.

Unnoticed, the sky had darkened completely.

The curfew in Chang'an was approaching, and even noble households avoided unnecessary movement unless for urgent matters or emergencies. Wang Yun exhaled deeply, as if waking from a dream, and returned to sit before the low table. "Come in," he said quietly.

Huang Zixiao leaned against the door, her palms slick with cold sweat, the aftershock of fear making her dizzy. Steadying her trembling hands, she took the envelope, opened it, and pulled out a sheet of snow-white paper.

The letter was folded into an intricate square, thick and substantial. But when she unfolded it, she found it blank—devoid of a single word.She glanced at it, then immediately folded the letter back up and returned it to the envelope. Looking up at Wang Yun, she said, "Young Master Wang, the prince has urgent matters requiring my immediate return to the estate. I'm afraid I must take my leave now. Please forgive the abrupt departure."

Wang Yun's hand rested on the table, trembling almost imperceptibly. With great effort, he restrained himself from looking at her again, turning his face instead toward the window where the clear breeze and bright moon shone outside. The corners of his lips curled into his usual faint smile as he spoke in a gentle, composed voice that carried clearly through the night: "The evening dew is heavy—do take care on your way back."