She lowered her head, embroidering a pear blossom when the needle pricked her fingertip. She let out a soft "ouch" as a drop of blood welled up and fell beside the embroidered pear blossom on her white blouse. He furrowed his brows, "How could you be so careless?" He moved to examine her finger, but she stared at the bloodstain on the blouse, sighing repeatedly, "It was perfectly fine, and now it's ruined."
He took her bleeding finger, held it up to his eyes, then brought it to his mouth and sucked gently. She gasped again, pulling her hand back, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she shot him a glare. He smiled faintly, "Your blood is sweet."
At this moment, a pot of white chrysanthemums sat before her, equally dazzling in their whiteness. Slowly, she brought her little finger to her lips and gave it a light suck. Her gaze lost focus, scattering into a hazy mist—damp, sorrowful tears. It seemed as though the rest of her life had, from this moment onward, turned into this same layer of tearful sadness.
She glanced toward the balcony, where the ornate iron railing was entwined with verdant vines, their leaves rustling and overlapping in the wind. The lush branches spread like a large umbrella, and all around was utter silence.
When she cried, she made no sound, only two streams of hot tears tracing slowly down her cheeks.
Pingjun never imagined childbirth could be this painful—it felt as if she were being torn in two, the agony so intense she hovered between life and death. Beside her ear, the midwife's voice urged, "Miss Ye, hold on, hold on! You must push! How can you deliver the baby like this?"
She closed her eyes, her face streaked with tears, her sweat-drenched hair tangled across the pillow. The cork she bit down on was already stained with blood, and every breath was filled with steamy vapor that made it hard to breathe. She wished only to die along with this child, for she knew he would never let the baby live!
Suddenly, the midwife leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Miss Ye, I was sent by Dr. Xie. He's waiting outside. As soon as the baby is born, we'll hide it in a medical case and smuggle it out. Don't worry, Dr. Xie and I will do everything to protect your child!"
A shock ran through her, cold as ice. From somewhere deep within, she mustered immense strength, struggling to grab hold of a hand nearby—she didn't care whose it was—and clutched it tightly, gasping out brokenly, "...Save my child..."
Her heart felt as if pierced by needles, tears trickling slowly from the corners of her eyes. After forcing out those words, her face turned deathly pale. The midwife placed a hand on her sweaty forehead and murmured softly, "Don't worry."
When she heard the baby's cry, her entire body went limp, even the strength to clench her fingers gone. The midwife cut the umbilical cord, wrapped the baby, and brought it to her, whispering in a hushed tone, "I'm taking it away now." With great effort, she turned her head to look at the child—swaddled in blankets, tiny, thin, its features barely distinguishable, like a small, reddish lump of flesh. And this tiny being, just born, was already facing such a heart-wrenching separation.She lowered her head with effort to kiss the child’s face, and tears streamed down uncontrollably, falling all the way to the child’s lips. The child, still with closed eyes, smacked its lips as if drinking its mother’s tears like milk. Through her tears, she whispered, "My child, my child."
When the midwife carried the child out and she heard the door close, it felt as though her entire being died in that moment. She knew she had no way out.
The next day, Jiang Xueting arrived with a Japanese man.
Lying in bed, unable to move, she watched as the Japanese man took out a box of liquid Western medicine and drew it into a syringe. Jiang Xueting said, "It’s her first time; don’t give her too much."
The Japanese man bowed obsequiously and replied, "Don’t worry, Dean Jiang."
Suddenly understanding, she panicked and struggled to sit up. Jiang Xueting stepped forward, pressed her down, and pulled out her arm. Weak from childbirth, the slightest movement made her dizzy and disoriented. She could only gaze at Jiang Xueting in despair, pleading tearfully, "No."
Helplessly, she watched as the Japanese man approached with the syringe. Jiang Xueting held her tightly in his arms, and she heard him grit his teeth as he spoke above her head, "I’d rather let you die by my hand than let you be with him!"
Tears flooded her face like a spring. Just as the needle was about to pierce the vein in her arm, she suddenly bit Jiang Xueting’s hand with all her might. Frowning in pain, he loosened his grip. Her arm jerked upward, and the sharp needle sliced across her pale skin, cutting it open. Blood streamed down her arm. Struggling, she fell to the floor, then staggered to her feet, stumbling toward the corner of the room. Kneeling on the ground, she trembled and wept in despair, "Jiang Xueting, kill me! I beg you, kill me now!"
The Japanese man looked at Jiang Xueting, flustered and unsure. Frowning, Jiang Xueting stepped forward to grab her, his tone merciless. "Come here!"
Pingjun, terrified to the extreme, scrambled backward. He seized her, and the doctor with the syringe hurried over. She screamed, struggling desperately as tears poured down her face. "Jiang Xueting, you can’t do this to me! My mother raised you—think of how she treated you, how our Ye family treated you…"
Jiang Xueting paused slightly. Seeing a glimmer of hope, Ye Pingjun frantically pointed toward the gloomy sky outside the floor-to-ceiling window and trembled, "Jiang Xueting, look outside! My mother is watching you from the heavens! You can’t do this to me—you’ll pay for this!"
Her voice was hoarse and filled with anguish. A sudden unease gripped Jiang Xueting’s heart, and he instinctively glanced at the sky outside the window, his face paling with fear. His grip loosened slightly, and she broke free, scrambling away. He watched as she stumbled to the door, frantically pounding on it, but it remained firmly locked. Coming back to his senses, Jiang Xueting said coldly, "Ye Pingjun, let me make this clear—don’t think you can stop me with these words. Today, you will take this morphine, whether you want to or not!"She knew there was no escape for her. Suddenly whipping her head around, she fixed Jiang Xueting with a gaze brimming with hatred, tears streaming down her cheeks. She then turned and slammed her head violently against the nearby wardrobe, immediately breaking her skin and drawing blood. Losing consciousness, her body slid limply down the cold surface of the wardrobe.
Jiang Xueting never expected her to do such a thing. With a horrified cry of "Pingjun—!" he rushed forward to cradle her cold body, pressing his hand against her forehead. Her eyes were tightly shut, a large gash on her forehead gushed blood like a spring, and her breathing was faint. Trembling with fear, he watched as the Japanese assistant beside him flusteredly asked, "Dean Jiang, should we still administer the morphine?"
Clutching the unconscious Ye Pingjun tightly, Jiang Xueting turned his head abruptly, his eyes bloodshot, and roared furiously, "Administer nothing! Go get a doctor, damn it! Hurry!"
When she woke again, her mind was already unclear. She was perpetually terrified, her entire body cold, and she could not bear sunlight. Like a small animal, she curled up in a corner. When Jiang Xueting tried to pull her out, she would bite and claw at him frantically, emitting heart-wrenching screams. At other times, she would dash toward the balcony. The French windows there had been sealed, covered with thick curtains, leaving the room in utter darkness.
All the doctors Jiang Xueting summoned were at a loss. As Pingjun grew increasingly haggard and vacant day by day, Ruixiang, who cared for her, privately sighed to Fuma, who worked in the kitchen, "It's such a pity—Miss Ye, with her lovely appearance, has gone mad like this."
But after many days, Pingjun gradually grew calmer, finally settling down, docile as a fragile child. When Jiang Xueting tentatively approached, she neither fled nor avoided him, lying quietly and soundlessly in his arms, her vacant eyes fixed on the sliver of light seeping through the gap in the curtains.
It was already winter. A thin layer of snow covered the balcony, and the French windows reflected the blinding glare of the snow. The light in her pupils slowly scattered. Suddenly, she tugged at Jiang Xueting's sleeve. He lowered his head, and she gave a faint smile, pointing weakly toward the window and murmuring, "Mom..."
That year, just before the lunar New Year, Jiang Xueting announced his retirement from politics in Yuzhou. The Jinling Government and the Yuzhou Government officially merged into one, with Jiang Xueting assuming the roles of Administrative Minister and Foreign Minister of the Jinling Government. Thus, the long-sought merger of Jinling and Yuzhou, painstakingly orchestrated by the Yu family of Jiangnan, was finally accomplished.
On New Year's Eve, the sound of firecrackers could be heard near and far. Zhou Tai, the steward of the official residence, had long directed the servants to clean every courtyard thoroughly. Colorful lanterns hung in the covered corridors, and leafless branches were wrapped in brocade silk, adorned with vibrant floral arrangements. The main hall was already decorated with numerous potted plants. When Minru led Dai Ti into the hall, they saw the second young lady, Jin Xuan, helping Madam Yu arrange a pot of golden daffodils. Upon spotting Dai Ti, Jin Xuan came forward with a smile and said, "Fifth sister-in-law is here. While your waist is still supple, why not bend down and give us a New Year's bow?"
Dai Ti smiled faintly. "Second Sister, you're teasing me again."
Minru also smiled, looking toward Madam Yu as she said, "Mother, I heard Qixuan has sent a letter." Madam Yu sighed and replied..."This child is truly stubborn. The few words in the letter were just to say she's safe and not to worry." Minru smiled. "As long as little sister is safe, we can rest easy."
Just then, Zhou Tai entered from outside the hall and said to Madam Yu, "Madam, the New Year's Eve dinner is all set on the table."
Madam Yu nodded, then turned to Minru and the others with a gentle smile. "Changxuan is hosting Jiang Xueting from Yuzhou tonight. They're enjoying drinks and conversation over there, so you'll have to accompany me for this New Year's Eve dinner."
After saying this, Madam Yu led Minru and the others to the dining room. Jin Xuan specifically seated Dai Ti at Madam Yu's right-hand side. Dai Ti was about to decline the honor when Madam Yu smiled and said, "No need for formalities, please sit." Only then did Dai Ti take her seat. After just a few bites, Madam Yu looked at Dai Ti and said with a smile, "I've just placed a mutton-fat white jade Child-Giving Guanyin in the main hall. Don't forget to pay your respects after dinner."
Dai Ti lowered her head, the gold-inlaid jade earrings dangling incessantly against her collar, their pearl shadows swaying. She didn't speak, only slowly nodded in acknowledgment.
By the time Jun Daiti returned to her room, it was already late at night.
The room remained as quiet as ever, with only the pendulum of the large grandfather clock swinging back and forth before her eyes. The carpet was thick as sponge. Dressed in a blue peacock-patterned padded cheongsam, radiant and dignified, she slowly sat alone on the bed. The bed was so large, the bedding entirely new, yet the quilt surface felt cold to the touch.
From outside the door came the voice of the housekeeper Zhu Ma. "Young Madam, it's late. You should rest."
She suddenly shivered, as if chilled, and instinctively reached for the telephone on the bedside table, dialing Maple Terrace. The call was answered by his personal adjutant Wu Zuoxiao. For some reason, she felt so nervous her teeth chattered involuntarily, her voice strained. "Is he still busy?"
Wu Zuoxiao paused briefly before replying politely, "Young Madam, the Commander-in-Chief has already retired for the night."
Jun Daiti slowly replaced the receiver.
Beside the bed stood a double-sided embroidered screen depicting a mountain snow scene, exquisitely detailed and elegant. She turned her head, gazing at her reflection in the dressing mirror. The gold-inlaid hairpin in her bun had tilted slightly. She reached up to straighten it, examining her perfected reflection in the mirror before slowly lowering her hand, lost in silent contemplation.
She remembered how her father had once given her a copy of Dream of the Red Chamber when she was young. At that time, she had been quite fond of foreign operas and had little interest in such classical literature, merely flipping through a few pages casually. Yet she had somehow memorized one particular line: "I sigh for this world—now I believe nothing is perfect. Even when husband and wife show mutual respect, ultimately, the heart remains unsatisfied."
OpenNovel