Her consciousness seemed to scatter as she cried out in despair, "Jiang Xueting!"
He shoved her aside, turned, and strode quickly out of the room. The door slammed shut with a sharp crack, and the sound of his furious footsteps descending the stairs seemed to trample heavily on her heart. She collapsed weakly onto the carpet, a clear trail of blood streaking one side of her face, her entire body trembling. There was not a single place in this small room that felt safe to her. Staggering to her feet, she moved toward the balcony. It was the third floor—if she jumped, she would surely lose the child.
Pingjun shivered and retreated back into the room. She placed a hand on her soft abdomen, her eyes scanning the room briefly before she suddenly hurried to the table. She gathered the plate of apples on it and stuffed them under the bed, then hid the tray of steamed dumplings and chicken broth that the maid Ruixiang had brought in under the bed as well.
She rushed to the coat rack where her overcoat hung, retrieved the short sword from the pocket, and clutched it tightly in her hand. Slowly, she retreated to the bedside and sat down, leaning against the bed as she cradled the short sword in her arms. Only then did her heartbeat ease slightly, but her entire body remained as taut as a drawn bowstring, still trembling uncontrollably.
"No one will touch me or your child," she gritted her teeth, saying to herself in her heart.
She never ate anything Ruixiang brought in again, fearing they had laced it with abortifacients.
From day to night, she spent all her time curled up at the head of the bed, clutching the short sword. The wound on her forehead slowly dried and finally stopped bleeding. In the evening, Ruixiang brought in a bowl of noodles, coaxing her to take a bite, but Pingjun didn’t even glance at it. Ruixiang smiled and said, "Miss Ye, please eat a little. Don’t starve yourself. If Young Master Jiang finds out, he’ll surely be heartbroken."
Pingjun turned her head away, lips pressed tightly together, not uttering a word.
Ruixiang, having met such resistance, could say no more and withdrew. Pingjun waited until midnight before getting out of bed and retrieving a few of the steamed dumplings she had hidden earlier. The dumplings had been left for so long they were cold and dry. She took a few bites, the taste like chewing wax, nearly impossible to swallow. Forcing herself to gulp them down, her stomach churned violently after just a few mouthfuls. She turned her head to the side, vomiting and weeping, her mouth filled with the salty, bitter taste.
The cold moonlight streamed in through the balcony’s French windows, casting a frost-like chill over the huanghuali furniture in the room. Silently, she touched her abdomen, tears streaming down her face, yet she still brought the dry, hard dumplings to her lips, swallowing them bit by bit with difficulty.
For this child, she thought she could endure.
She struggled on like this for two days, but a fever gradually set in. Even her breath felt scorching hot, and her vision blurred intermittently. Standing up made her dizzy, the world spinning around her. She could only bury herself entirely under the blankets, yet the fever continued to wrack her with shivers, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.That night, she drifted in and out of sleep when she heard the door creak open. Ruixiang's voice came through, deliberately hushed, "You're an experienced doctor, and you've done this more than once. What are you afraid of? Just follow Young Master Jiang's instructions. Be steady with your hands, and make sure not to harm the mother."
A cold hand pressed against her wrist, and someone above her head said, "Luckily it's only been about three months—it can still be terminated. Pass me my needle." She struggled to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt as heavy as lead. Her heart burned with anxiety, and the darkness before her seemed to spin, the world turning upside down. She cried out for help, but no one answered. A faint, sharp pain slowly pierced her skin. It hurt—so much, so intensely. Her body felt as if it were plummeting into an unseen abyss. Dazed and weeping, she murmured, "...Changxuan... save me..."
No response, no light.
Scalding tears streamed down, searing the skin at the corners of her eyes, yet no one came to her rescue. Her world suddenly felt vast and empty, the pain growing more intense and unbearable. Then, a baby's cry echoed—a sound that tore at her heart. But the cry grew fainter and fainter, drifting farther away...
From somewhere deep within, she summoned a surge of strength and abruptly opened her eyes, startling the doctor holding the fine needle and Ruixiang, who both stepped back in alarm. Pingjun had already sat up in bed, her hair disheveled, screaming at them like a madwoman, "Don't touch my child!"
She pulled her hand out from under the covers, revealing the short sword clenched tightly in her grip. Without a second thought, she swung it wildly at the two. The doctor and Ruixiang retreated hastily, with Ruixiang turning pale and stammering, "Miss Ye, please calm down."
Pingjun's face flushed crimson. Seeing that they showed no intention of leaving and might even try to restrain her at any moment, she felt she had to act like a lunatic—if only to scare them off. In despair, she shrieked, "If you want to harm my child, you'll have to kill me first!" Brandishing the dagger, she grabbed a small stool by the bed and hurled it at the French window on the balcony. With a loud crash, the window shattered, shards falling through the third-floor railing and clattering to the ground below. A cold wind rushed in. She screamed into the empty night, "Help! Help—!"
The night was deathly still; her cries seemed to dissipate without traveling far. In the distance, tall trees stood shrouded in darkness, their shadows looming like hordes of ghosts—lost, solitary spirits staring expressionlessly, waiting for her to die so they could devour her.
Taking in the scene, the doctor snatched his medical kit and fled, muttering repeatedly, "She's insane! She's a madwoman!"Ruixiang was still trying to calm Pingjun when she saw her with disheveled hair, pale and bloodless skin, clutching that sword as she charged toward her. But Pingjun stumbled and fell to the ground, yet struggled to stand up again. Terrified, Ruixiang let out a sharp cry, turned, and ran out. The commotion had already alerted the guards downstairs in the guardroom. Zhou Zhenghai led the guards rushing up and called out to Ruixiang, "What happened?"
Ruixiang pressed herself tightly against the door, shouting in panic at Zhou Zhenghai, "It's terrible! Quickly barricade this door! Miss Ye has gone mad—she wants to kill someone!"
Zhou Zhenghai froze for a moment, then turned to a guard beside him and said, "Go lock the door." The guard immediately stepped forward to help Ruixiang secure it.
Hearing the sound of the door being locked, Pingjun's heart pounded wildly. Her throat burned with pain, and she kept repeating to herself, "I won, I won, I drove them away..."
Clutching the short sword, she slowly retreated to the bed, pulled the covers over herself again, and lay there. The two shattered floor-to-ceiling windows rattled noisily in the wind. Suddenly, warmth spread beneath her nose. She wiped it with her hand and found it covered in nosebleed. Tilting her head back toward the ceiling, she let the warm blood flow backward, yet two silent tears streamed from the corners of her eyes...
Her entire body seemed suddenly agitated. Her head throbbed unbearably, but she couldn't sleep. Her shoulders trembled uncontrollably as she lay there, wide awake, watching the night-darkened window gradually brighten. And so, the night passed.
Around eight or nine in the evening, because her elder sister Tao Yayi had come to visit, Tao Ziyi did not go out dancing that night. Instead, she stayed at the residence and had some snacks with her sister. Tao Yayi ate a portion of fruit jelly but frowned after a few bites. "This small town of Yuzhou really can't compare to Golden Mausoleum. Even the refreshments are made like this—how can anyone eat them?"
Tao Ziyi sipped her coffee. "What I'd really like are the Fragrant Crisps from Golden Mausoleum." She took a sip, lightly tapped the teaspoon on the saucer, and said with a grin, "Elder Sister, I've heard that Father thinks it's no good for the two governments to remain separate. He wants to reunite with Golden Mausoleum, and they're willing too. They've even sent representatives to Yuzhou for negotiations and said they'll entrust Father with an important role."
Tao Yayi smiled. "That's true, but Father's intention alone isn't enough. There will always be opposition—like your Dean Jiang, for instance."
Tao Ziyi pouted and tossed the teaspoon down with a clatter. "Instead of going to Golden Mausoleum, he insists on staying in this wretched place. I always knew there was something wrong with his head. I'll have to teach him a lesson sooner or later."
Tao Yayi quickly waved her hands. "Little Sister, don't talk like that. Xue Ting is, after all, the Administrative Dean and Chairman of the National Government. You have no idea how hot-tempered he is now. Even my father-in-law can't persuade him. Yesterday, he openly contradicted Father at the routine meeting, leaving him embarrassed with a few sharp remarks."
Hearing this, Tao Ziyi's delicate brows furrowed instantly, and she flared up in anger. "What? He dares treat Father like that? Has he forgotten who helped him get where he is today?!"As these words were spoken, footsteps echoed from outside the living room, and a maid announced, "Dean Jiang is back." No sooner had she spoken than Jiang Xueting entered, followed by his adjutant Xue Zhiq and several aides-de-camp. His expression was grim, and upon seeing Tao Yayi in the hall, he said indifferently, "So Elder Sister is here."
Tao Yayi quickly stood up and smiled, "Brother-in-law, you're back. You must have been busy these past few days?"
Jiang Xueting nodded, then turned to Tao Ziyi and said, "Keep Elder Sister company. I have some matters to attend to in the study." Tao Ziyi snorted haughtily, "What a joke! She's my own sister—do I need you to remind me?" Jiang Xueting turned away without another word and headed to his study.
Xue Zhiq turned on the study lamp as Jiang Xueting entered. Without hesitation, Jiang Xueting pulled a pistol from inside his coat and tossed it onto the table, his voice cold as he spat, "These old fools chase after any scrap of profit. They talk of merging Golden Mausoleum and Yu, but let's see how much benefit Yu Zhongquan actually offers them when they return!"
Seeing his fury, Xue Zhiq hesitated for a moment before cautiously saying, "The Fusang people have expressed support for our Yu government and even sent a special envoy..."
"Enough!" Jiang Xueting whipped around, enraged. "I, Jiang Xueting, am not so desperate as to betray my country by aligning with the Fusang!"
Xue Zhiq immediately fell silent. Jiang Xueting waved him away and sat under the jade-green desk lamp, irritably lighting a cigarette. He knew that since the Jinling faction's representatives had arrived, over half of the Yu government had agreed to the merger with Jinling. Even the Mou and Tao families were inclined toward it—all because he, as the Executive Dean and National Chairman, hadn't offered them enough benefits.
Now, the Yu family of Jinling had joined forces with the Xiao Family to resist the Fusang army, fighting fiercely on both the western and eastern fronts. Public opinion nationwide sided with the Jinling Government, rendering the Yu government seemingly redundant and insignificant. To make matters worse, the Fusang envoy's repeated visits had sparked rumors that he, Jiang Xueting, harbored traitorous intentions.
Everyone was pushing him—all of them were forcing his hand!
His head throbbed violently. As these chaotic thoughts swirled, his frustration grew. No matter how he turned things over, he saw no way out, and his anger intensified. Unconsciously, he had smoked a pile of cigarette butts onto the floor. Only when the grandfather clock chimed twelve times did he startle, realizing how late it had grown. He stood up, pushed open the study door, and headed upstairs. The bedroom light was still on. Tao Ziyi leaned against the headboard, a book in hand. When he entered, she lifted it to cover her face entirely.
Seething with irritation, Jiang Xueting ignored her and went to wash up. When he returned, he found Tao Ziyi seated at the dressing table, vigorously brushing her hair, her face taut with tension. Forcing patience, he approached and gently touched her shoulder, offering a faint smile. "You were lying down so comfortably earlier—why get up now? What if you catch a chill?"
Tao Ziyi retorted, "None of your business!"
Jiang Xueting smiled slightly. "You're my wife—how could I not care?"
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