Yu Changxuan did not first eat a bowl of lotus leaf soup, but instead picked up a teacup nearby, took a sip of tea, and said, "How has she been this past month?"
Qiu Luo knew exactly whom Yu Changxuan was asking about, and she had long prepared for this. She immediately giggled and replied, "How Miss Ye has been, we truly don't know. If Fifth Master wishes to find out, you'll have to ask Director Gu."
Yu Changxuan looked up at Qiu Luo, slowly twirled the teacup in his hand, and actually smiled faintly. "What do you mean by that?"
Qiu Luo then tittered and said, "We clumsy maids, even if we wanted to take care of Miss Ye, wouldn't be able to get close. Miss Ye is well-educated and refined, so naturally, she and Director Gu have endless things to talk about. They might even find us maids an eyesore." No sooner had she finished speaking than a wave of heat surged toward her—Yu Changxuan had directly splashed the tea at her. The scalding tea splashed onto her skin, causing a sharp pain that frightened Qiu Luo out of her wits. She immediately knelt down and cried out, "Fifth Master!"
Yu Changxuan let out a cold laugh and said calmly, "Remember this well: Gu Ruitong is like a brother to me. If you ever dare say such things again, I'll take your life first!"
Qiu Luo trembled with fear, unable to utter a single word. Then she heard Yu Changxuan say impatiently, "Get out!" Qiu Luo hurriedly stood up and nervously stepped forward to collect the bowl and tray. Under the tray was something she had specifically brought, but now she dared not show it to Yu Changxuan. Just as she was about to leave, Yu Changxuan noticed it clearly and asked, "What is that?"
Qiu Luo tremblingly took out a page. "It's a newspaper. I took it from Miss Ye's room. That day... I saw Miss Ye staring at this newspaper in a daze." Yu Changxuan's eyes immediately caught the words "Name Report." He reached out his hand, and Qiu Luo hurriedly handed the newspaper to him before turning and fleeing in panic. Yu Changxuan unfolded the page and saw the column below titled "Records of Affection." His pupils instantly contracted with a dark glint as he coldly read on.
The night grew even deeper, and the study was so quiet it felt unsettling. Only the rhythmic ticking of the large grandfather clock could be heard, and from near and far, the sound of wind rustling through the trees at Maple Terrace echoed like waves. Yu Changxuan sat alone in the study, a cigarette held between his fingers emitting a wisp of white smoke. The cigarette had burned almost to the filter, leaving a long ash, and at his feet, five or six cigarette butts had already accumulated.
He recalled the time she lowered her head to thread beads, a short strand of hair falling across her forehead and gently brushing against her snow-white cheek. He had walked over to smooth that strand for her—her soft hair gliding through his fingers. His fingers accidentally brushed against the skin of her cheek, warm to the touch. He felt a persistent itch in his heart, as if a soft feather were lightly tracing across it...His hand trembled, and the burnt-out cigarette butt fell to the ground. Yet he abruptly stood up, stomping on it fiercely with his military boots before sweeping everything off the desk onto the floor. Even the telephone went flying, crashing against the wall with a sharp crack and shattering into pieces in an instant!
Finally, he crumpled the newspaper in his grip and strode out of the study, heading upstairs. The corridor was carpeted, muffling his hurried footsteps. He walked all the way to the bedroom at the end of the hall but paused at the door, this time softening his movements as he slowly pushed it open.
The room was quiet. A stick of Taiwanese agarwood smoldered in a small incense burner, and thick curtains draped heavily onto the carpet, dimming the light. Only a small green silk lampshade on the bedside table cast a warm, hazy glow. She lay sideways under the soft covers, her left hand loosely curled beneath the pillow, fast asleep.
He tossed the newspaper onto the carpet and stood by the bed, leaning slightly forward with one hand braced against the mattress. With the other, he gently caressed her cheek. Her skin felt soft and warm, and his breathing grew ragged. As he bent lower, he noticed her eyes remained closed, but the lashes against her skin fluttered wildly. Her left hand, which had been resting loosely by the pillow, slowly clenched into a fist...
Already seething with anger, he let out a cold laugh. "Stop pretending!" he snapped, grabbing a lock of her short hair by her temple and yanking it uncontrollably. She could even hear the sound of her hair snapping, the sharp pain making her gasp sharply. Her eyes flew open to see his face shadowed in the dim light, exuding a chilling sternness.
Fury burned within him. "Ye Pingjun, I’ve nearly carved out my entire heart for you, and this is how you treat me!"
Her heart tightened abruptly, and she tried to sit up. But a sudden, sharp pain shot through her wrist as his weight pressed down on her. With one hand, he pinned both of her wrists above her head against the pillow, while his other hand worked at the buttons of her clothes. The buttons were tiny and numerous, and growing impatient, he gave a harsh tug. A tearing sound followed as buttons scattered everywhere, much like the light in her eyes, which seemed to shatter in that very moment.
He lowered his head to kiss her, his lips covering hers in a lingering, intimate caress. A gentle fragrance, soft and subtly warm—her natural scent—drifted into his senses, an intoxicating sweetness that made him lose himself.
She kept her eyes tightly shut, fists clenched, resigned to whatever he did. When his lips brushed her earlobe, he whispered huskily, "You will bear me a child."
Her body jolted, and her eyes snapped open. With a surge of unexpected strength, she shoved him away. Caught off guard in his dazed state, he loosened his grip enough for her to escape. She scrambled off the bed, clutching her torn clothes, her panicked gaze sharp and clear. "Don’t even think about it!" she cried.Yu Changxuan sat up from the bed and watched her pressed tightly against the floor-to-ceiling curtains, eyeing him warily. He frowned deeply and, without a word, stepped forward to embrace her. She gripped the heavy curtains desperately. His expression abruptly darkened as he pinned her against the curtains instead, snarling, "If I want you to bear a child, you will bear it for me!"
He tore violently at her clothes. Furious and unable to break free, she released her grip on the curtains, her icy gaze fixed on him as she enunciated each word coldly, "I’m telling you, even if I were pregnant with your child, I would find a way to prevent it from being born!"
His body stiffened abruptly. She lifted her head, staring at him with a chilling resolve and determination in her eyes. Breathing heavily, he gripped her shoulders and gritted his teeth, "How dare you!"
She glared back defiantly, the two locked in a standoff like sworn enemies. A few strands of hair had come loose from her already disheveled bun, accentuating her pale face—as white as paper, as cold as snow.
Finally, a cold fury ignited in the depths of his eyes. Accustomed to being indulged and getting his way, he had never encountered such defiance. Enraged, he shoved her away from him. He hadn’t realized he’d used so much force—her frail body was flung aside like a stalk of straw, crashing onto the carpet, her forehead striking the bedside table with a sharp thud.
Yu Changxuan spun around abruptly.
Pingjun pressed a hand to her forehead, her lips trembling slightly. Bright red blood seeped through her fingers. He rushed forward in a panic to help her, but she turned her head away, evading his hand, and murmured softly, "I don’t need your concern!"
Yu Changxuan froze, his hand suspended stiffly in midair.
Pingjun winced softly from the pain. Slowly, she lowered her head. The newspaper lay discarded on the carpet like wastepaper. Blood dripped from between her fingers, staining the disheveled hair at her temples and splattering onto the black-and-white photo of Jiang Xueting in the newspaper, dyeing the page of "Threads of Love" crimson.
No sooner in love, than lovesick.
In the morning, sunlight streamed in through the open curtains. In such late autumn weather, even the faintest beams felt warm. A large bouquet of osmanthus stood in a bean-green carved porcelain vase, but the fresh floral scent was overpowered by the white satin sachet of clove powder hanging in the wardrobe. Ye Pingjun sat on the sofa, feeling as if the fragrance of cloves filled every breath she took.
She touched the corner of her forehead—the wound was small, already bandaged, and only slightly painful.
The newspaper lay neatly on the coffee table, the blood-stained page tucked underneath. Then, she heard the door open—it was Qiu Luo entering.
She remained seated until Qiu Luo called out with a smile, "Miss Ye, you asked for me?"
Ye Pingjun gazed at the newspaper and said slowly, "In the future, don’t meddle with my things. It’s troublesome to have Fifth Master retrieve them for me again."
Qiu Luo’s expression instantly turned grim.Ye Pingjun said calmly, "I told Fifth Master that we have enough staff here and don't need your service anymore. Since you're getting older, I've simply arranged for you to return to the countryside and get married. I sent someone to handle it this morning—your parents will come to pick you up tomorrow."
Qiu Luo's face turned deathly pale in an instant. She dropped to her knees on the carpet with a thud and cried out repeatedly, "Miss Ye, please don't send me away... I was wrong, I know I was wrong."
Pingjun smiled faintly and said slowly, "What kind of delicate young lady do you take me for? One you can bully and humiliate at will, who'd be driven to tears or rage by a few words or petty tricks? You've seriously miscalculated. I'm not that magnanimous either—even if I spared you again and again, did you really think I couldn't deal with you?"
She turned her gaze to the tear-streaked Qiu Luo. "Let me give you some advice: next time you want to target me, you'd better pick a better timing and finish me off completely in one move. Otherwise, when I catch my breath, you'll be the one who ends up dead."
Qiu Luo never expected Ye Pingjun to say such things. Terrified, she remained kneeling and weeping. Ye Pingjun looked at her and said slowly, "You're utterly foolish. Who he wants is beyond my control, and beyond yours too. What's the point of exhausting yourself with schemes here? You're only making everyone miserable. Before I came, he never let you live in these quarters—do you really think if you drive me away, he'll let you move in here?"
Qiu Luo kept sobbing, repeatedly promising she wouldn't dare again. Pingjun fell silent, slowly turning to gaze out the window. In the distance, she could see the maple trees on Jade Cloud Mountain blazing like flames. The brilliant light stabbed sharply into her eyes. She felt a wave of warmth rising in them, silently curling the corners of her soft lips into a bitter smile as she whispered softly:
"Take this newspaper and burn it."
The winter in Golden Mausoleum was naturally dry and cold, and after several bouts of sleet, the chill seemed to pierce straight to the bone. Around ten in the morning, the Yu Family Mansion was warmed by heating, with out-of-season cut flowers arranged in vases. Madam Yu was teaching her grandson Ze Ning calligraphy in the living room when she looked up and saw the butler Zhou Tai bringing snacks. She asked, "Has Fifth Master not gotten up yet?"
Zhou Tai replied, "It seems not. Zhu Ma knocked on his door earlier, but there was no response from inside."
Madam Yu immediately grew concerned. "This child has been following his father through wind and rain lately, and now that he finally has a few days to rest, he mustn't have fallen ill from exhaustion? I'll go check on him." She instructed a servant nearby to feed Ze Ning the snacks and went upstairs alone. Reaching Yu Changxuan's door, she knocked several times but received no answer. Growing anxious, Madam Yu said to the butler Zhou Tai beside her, "Open the door."Zhou Tai took a large bunch of keys from his waist, selected one to unlock the door, and Madam Yu pushed it open to enter. She saw Yu Changxuan lying on the bed wrapped in a quilt, and called out, "Changxuan, are you ill?" Yu Changxuan initially had no intention of speaking, but hearing the urgency in his mother's tone, he threw off the covers and sat up, saying, "I'm not a three- or four-year-old child—how could I be ill?"
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