Chongye felt dizzy and disoriented, jolted from his daze by a piercing cold gaze. Turning around, he saw Yu Changxuan standing on the platform glance at his face—a gaze sharp as blades. Changxuan paused briefly before turning away to continue his speech with a smile.
The shift was so abrupt that Chongye wondered if he had imagined it.
With only a thirty-hour leave granted, Chongye naturally had to rush back to the military academy. Fortunately, the speech had ended. She walked out of Jiangye University alone and, as expected, saw He Liansen, the chief attendant, waiting for her. Across the street stood an American Buick car, surrounded by guards.
As she got into the car, she noticed his cold expression. "Who is that guy?"
She was prepared. Tipping her head slightly and curling her rosy lips like peach blossom petals, she replied with a laugh, "I won’t tell you."
He stared at her, and she met his gaze defiantly, tilting her head in a childish manner. "You’re so busy—why bother with me?" His eyes swept over her face, and suddenly he smiled, faintly at first. But she grew anxious, pouncing on him to gently nip his cheek like a mischievous little fox. "Don’t laugh at me, don’t laugh at me!"
He grabbed her hand, his eyes dark and intense. "You little thing, daring to play games with me."
In the evening, he took her to Qishilin for Western food—her choice, as she loved their butter-braised pigeon. By the time dessert was served, night had fallen, and candles flickered in the restaurant. Under the swaying candlelight, she used her fork to snatch the strawberry garnish from his plate, her sparkling eyes brimming with laughter. "You have to let me have this."
He smiled. "Don’t you have your own?"
She blinked playfully. "I just want to take yours."
That night, she stayed at Maple Terrace, but first called home to say she was staying at a classmate’s. Her mother was easygoing, but her father was strict. Luckily, he was still busy at the hospital.
Moonlight spilled like quicksilver onto the thick carpet. When she rose, the silvery glow illuminated her pale shoulders, delicate as fragile glazed tiles. Just as she finished dressing, he remarked coolly, "Move to Maple Terrace."
Fanshu turned, her gaze soft and alluring. "No." After a pause, she added with a laugh, "I want you to think of me all day but not see me—that’s what I want."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Child." His tone was indifferent, its meaning unclear.
Fanshu returned home in the morning and heard from a servant that a classmate named Xinping had called several times. Exhausted, she went straight to her room and slept until afternoon. Passing her father’s study on her way downstairs, she suddenly heard his voice from inside.
"That photo was clearly tucked in this book—how could it be gone? I said no one should open this bookcase! How could you be so careless?"
Her mother replied, "I was just tidying up for you. If the photo is lost, so be it. Eighteen years have passed—what’s the point in keeping it? It only brings heartache."Father's voice carried a hint of sorrow, "After all, she is the child's mother. We must leave something to remember her by."
Standing outside the door, she felt as if thunder had struck her ears. She could no longer hear what her parents said next; only one chaotic echo reverberated in her mind: eighteen years—eighteen years had passed. She was exactly eighteen this year.
From inside the room, her father's voice came again, "Chongye has known about this for a long time. I think he treats Fanshu quite well, but Fanshu's temper worries me."
Her mother gently added, "If Chongye marries Fanshu, wouldn't that be perfect? We'd still be one family."
Fanshu trembled all over as she ran back to her room. She took out the photograph from her pocket. In the photo, the girl standing beside the spring bonsai was still bright and clear. Tears streamed down her face as she suddenly realized who her parents were talking about.
That afternoon, she rushed to Maple Terrace on her own. As soon as she entered the bedroom, she carelessly threw her handbag on the floor, scattering its contents. Ignoring the mess, she threw herself into Yu Changxuan's arms. "I might not be my parents' child!"
He laughed, "Then whose child could you be?"
She shook her head, "I don't know."
He gently stroked the hair on her forehead and said softly, "What a pitiful child."
She continued to cry, "Father, Mother, and Chongye all know, but I’m the only one kept in the dark." She cried herself to sleep in his arms. In the middle of the night, a sharp pain shot through her arm, and she woke to find him standing by the bed in his sleepwear, holding that very photograph. His expression was terrifyingly fierce, his hand gripping her arm so tightly it felt as if he might crush her. "What is your father's name?"
Terrified, she replied, "Xie Zhaohua."
"And your mother?"
"Bai Liyuan."
"How old are you?"
"Eighteen."
Yu Changxuan suddenly released her arm. His face turned ashen, his eyes gleaming with an almost predatory ferocity that sent chills down her spine. She even noticed his body trembling.
Bewildered, she sat up in bed and reached for his hand. "What’s wrong with you?"
He violently shook off her hand and turned away, striding out of the bedroom as if in a daze.
The next morning, she hurriedly left Maple Terrace alone. All the way home, she agonized over how to explain her absence to her parents—a young girl staying out all night. No matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t come up with a solution. Finally, as she stepped out of the car, she resolved to face whatever came her way.
As soon as she entered the house, she sensed something was wrong. Chongye was actually home. Aunt Wu was weeping uncontrollably, and Chongye’s eyes were red and swollen. In a hoarse voice, he said to her, "Fanshu, Father and Mother went out looking for you last night and... they were in a car accident..."
She stood there, her face deathly pale, her soul seemingly shattered.
Well, now Xie Fanshu no longer had to rack her brains about how to explain her whereabouts from the previous night.
Three days later, before her parents' funeral arrangements were even completed, Chongye was unexpectedly arrested by the military police. The charge was inciting public unrest and gathering crowds, accusing him of being a revolutionary. It was a completely unfounded calamity—a false accusation without any basis.She was utterly desperate and ran to Maple Terrace to find him, but He Junsen intercepted her with his men, giving only one reason: the Commander-in-Chief was too busy to see anyone. Later, He Junsen personally drove her home. She returned in a daze, where Mother Wu stood in the corridor outside the house. Flanked by tall, pristine cylindrical pillars, the elderly Mother Wu resembled a withered branch between them. She said to Fanshu, "So it was you who provoked them."
Fanshu stared blankly at Mother Wu, whose gaze held a deep chill. "Fanshu, there is one thing you must know."
When Fanshu returned to Maple Terrace, it was nighttime. She vowed not to leave unless he saw her.
He finally met her in the parlor, clad in a stern, iron-gray military uniform, cold and aloof. He didn’t even glance at Xie Fanshu. "Nothing you say will change anything. I’ve already signed the order. Execution before ten tomorrow night."
She fixed her gaze on his back. "If I beg you, can you spare Chongye?"
He was merciless. "No!"
She stared at him, then suddenly gave a sorrowful smile. "You know perfectly well Chongye isn’t a revolutionary. Yet you insist on taking his life! Must you kill everyone around me? Does your execution list include me?"
His figure paused briefly.
Outside the window, white jade hairpin flowers bloomed profusely, their slender stems supporting delicate, elegant blossoms like ethereal fairies, swaying quietly in the night. His face was pale as he said, "Leave. I never want to see you again."
The following evening, Fanshu called Yu Xinping and invited her over. Knowing Fanshu’s family had suffered a great upheaval, Xinping quietly came to check on her. She found Fanshu looking haggard, dressed in a blue cheongsam with a floral pattern, its hem sweeping past her ankles as it swayed gently. She stood alone by the long carved window, like a withered, fading flower.
Xinping tried to distract her. "You never liked wearing cheongsams before."
Fanshu smiled. "Chongye liked seeing me in cheongsams."
Xinping said guiltily, "In a few days, I’ll speak to Father about Brother Chongye." She didn’t yet know that Chongye was to be executed before ten that night—on Yu Changxuan’s direct orders.
Xie Fanshu shook her head gently and smiled. "No need. I have a way." Her spirits seemed surprisingly steady. Xinping stayed with her, sharing dinner, and they spent some time playing the piano in the music room. By nine in the evening, Fanshu took Xinping to the small parlor for snacks, deliberately turning on the radio. As they listened to music, Fanshu poured Xinping a cup of tea and suddenly said with a laugh, "Your hair is messy. Let me fix it for you."
Xinping nodded, holding her teacup obediently as she turned around, chatting while sipping her tea. Fanshu combed Xinping’s hair with an ivory comb, her slender fingers weaving intermittently through the strands. Xinping blushed inexplicably and whispered, "Sister Fanshu, I really like you."
Fanshu nodded. "I like you too."
As the night deepened, Fanshu finished styling Xinping’s hair. The gentle Xinping lay quietly in Fanshu’s arms, no longer breathing.
The study was silent.The grandfather clock stood beside the bookcase, its pendulum swinging back and forth. In the sandalwood incense burner, a bundle of purple jasmine rouge smoldered, releasing a subtle fragrance. A green-shaded desk lamp cast a soft glow across the table, while thin moonlight was blocked outside the window by fully drawn floor-length curtains. The door was inlaid with stained glass carved in intricate patterns, its dazzling designs shimmering before one’s eyes.
Yu Changxuan sat in the chair before the desk, quietly gazing at the photograph in his hand. His dark eyes and profound features were veiled in faint shadows. He felt only cold, as if surrounded on all sides by a vast, frosty haze that tightened around him, making even breathing painfully difficult.
He still remembered the girl he had once cherished beyond measure. On that silent, deep night, the moonlight like frost had illuminated the scattered shadows of trees on the ground. She had turned her head slightly, her fair and delicate face seeming to melt into the silvery moonlight. With brows and eyes as clear and lovely as a petal of snow-white pear blossom in spring, her ethereal beauty carried a hint of cool, subtle fragrance.
All these years, he had remembered it vividly.
Slowly, he placed the photograph face down on the desk, his heart in turmoil as if countless ants were gnawing at it. A look of profound pain shone in his eyes as he murmured under his breath, "Pingjun, is this how you punish me..."
Suddenly, the telephone on the desk rang sharply. As he picked up the receiver, He Junsen’s voice came through, "Commander, Miss Xie is on the line."
After a long pause, he finally replied, "Put her through."
Xie Fanshu’s voice soon came over the line, calm and detached, "Yu Changxuan, since you are this ruthless, do not think I am easily trifled with. You caused the deaths of my father and mother—I will make you pay the same price!"
He remained silent.
Xie Fanshu continued, "Xinping is with me. She’s asleep, very peaceful."
Instantly enraged, he demanded, "What have you done to her?!"
She laughed lightly, "I’m just here to tell you one thing: you needn’t worry so much. Back then, Ye Pingjun gave birth to a boy. I am not your daughter."
It felt as if he had stepped into empty air or been struck hard in the face. His body jolted violently, his breathing grew rapid, and he gritted his teeth, "Xie Fanshu, explain yourself clearly! That boy... where is that boy now?!"
OpenNovel