Chapter 223: Hatred

“After receiving the order from you, sir, I was supposed to head out immediately. But just as I was about to leave, I heard from the subordinates that Zhou Yinzhi had gone to see Her Highness the Princess and had a conversation with her. It seemed he even gave her something.” Dao Qin knelt with one knee at the bottom of the steps, head lowered. The fingers resting on the hilt of his blade were tightly clenched, as though trying hard to suppress something, yet his eyes were still red, and his voice hoarse as he continued, “After instructing them to keep an eye out, I went to look for Zhou Yinzhi. But when I got there, when I got there…”

By the time he arrived, Zhou Yinzhi was already inside You Fangyin’s quarters, holding her hostage at knifepoint.

Dao Qin knew full well how important You Fangyin was.

With a hostage in hand, Zhou Yinzhi stood in an invincible position. Though Dao Qin was skilled in martial arts and tried multiple times to strike, with You Fangyin in the enemy’s grasp, he hesitated again and again, fearing she would be harmed.

When one hesitates for fear of injuring the innocent, one’s hands become tied.

Zhou Yinzhi hadn’t risen to the rank of Vice Commander of the Embroidered Guards by being a fool. In the blink of an eye during a clash, Dao Qin nearly lost his head to Zhou Yinzhi’s blade. He barely managed to dodge in time, resulting in just a cut across his face.

But that single retreat gave Zhou Yinzhi his opening.

In that moment, the man’s ruthlessness and lack of scruples were revealed in full—

He mercilessly drove a blade into You Fangyin’s back.

The blood-stained Xiuchun blade pierced through her body with cold precision.

Dao Qin was frozen with horror. All he could do was rush forward and catch You Fangyin as she collapsed, frantically pressing on her wound, trying to summon a doctor. Meanwhile, Zhou Yinzhi took the opportunity to escape, vaulting over the courtyard wall and vanishing without a trace.

Xie Wei’s abdominal wound had yet to fully heal. He was supposed to be resting in his room, but at this moment, he stood in the kitchen, quietly placing a small dish of freshly made peach blossom cakes into a food box.

It was midday outside the door.

The sunlight shone lazily, but it carried not a hint of warmth.

Jiang Xuening had remained in her room all day without emerging.

On the night of the incident, she had held tightly to You Fangyin’s gradually stiffening and cold body, refusing to let go. No one could persuade her to leave. In the end, Yan Lin returned and had no choice but to knock her unconscious to get her back into her room.

The entire residence was thrown into chaos.

Strangest of all, despite the immediate city lockdown order, Zhou Yinzhi was nowhere to be found. Not until midnight, after investigating the soldiers stationed at various city gates, did they uncover a group of men Zhou Yinzhi had bribed and recruited. It turned out that right after leaving the General’s Mansion, Zhou Yinzhi wasted no time and fled the city straightaway.

Someone had died.

The murderer had not been caught.

The next day, delayed news from Sichuan and Jiangnan finally arrived. It reported that as early as half a month ago, the Ren family’s salt yards and associated merchants in Jiangnan had all been arrested on charges of conspiracy and treason. Those who resisted were executed immediately to set an example. The enemy had struck too quickly and ruthlessly—few even survived to send word. Furthermore, Zhou Yinzhi had ordered the city to be sealed off, cutting off all routes westward and suppressing any flow of information. And because the journey was long, if news wasn’t sent through the imperial courier system with urgency, it would take at least a month for any ordinary message to reach Xinzhou.

Zhou Yinzhi knew all of this.

He left the confiscations to the Embroidered Guards and the authorities, while he himself came to the capital alone, putting on an elaborate act of false goodwill—waiting for a chance to strike at You Fangyin and steal her official seal. With it, he could gain access to the immense wealth stored in various banks and money houses.

Such a swift and brutal scheme may have been carried out by Zhou Yinzhi, but it was undoubtedly backed by imperial power.

But when Jiang Xuening awoke and heard the report, all she said was blankly: “I understand.”

She dismissed everyone and closed the door, refusing to see anyone or listen to any news. The meals brought to her door had grown cold, but she never once came out, nor took a single bite.

Xie Wei did not look up at Dao Qin, only lowered his eyes and said, “Before Zhou Yinzhi made his move, he already anticipated that between pursuing him and saving You Fangyin, you would choose the latter. That his heart is more ruthless than yours should come as no surprise.”

But Dao Qin didn’t see it that way.

The wound on his cheek was still fresh, and his eyes nearly brimmed with tears: “If I had arrived a bit earlier, or even a bit later, Miss You might not have suffered his hand. It was my hesitation, falling into his trap, that doomed her…”

Dao Qin had followed Xie Wei for many years and seen much, yet he had rarely done anything he regretted. Especially not something like this—how could he live with causing harm to a girl like her?

After all, there was still some youthful passion left in his heart.

Anger and guilt surged together, weighing so heavily on him that he couldn’t lift his head. Tears spilled from his eyes. He wiped them away roughly, not caring how he looked—there was only a restrained fierceness in his movements, making him appear particularly disheveled.

Xie Wei glanced up at him and let out a soft sigh. “You did nothing wrong. Stop kneeling.”

Beside them, Jian Shu couldn’t stand seeing him in such a rare display of weakness.

He stepped forward and tried to yank him up forcefully, frowning as he scolded, “What’s the use of crying? Will tears bring her back?!”

Xie Wei simply said, “Only by catching the murderer and offering justice to the deceased can we begin to make amends.”

But Dao Qin refused to rise. He gritted his teeth and said, “Dao Qin is willing to lay down his life in service!”

Xie Wei closed the lid of the food box. Ignoring the two men behind him, he carried the box and walked slowly past them. His tone was calm: “Wait a few more days. Let Miss Ning speak for herself.”

But after just a few steps, his pace stopped again.

He turned and asked, “How is Lu Xian doing lately?”

Jian Shu was taken aback. After a moment, he replied in a low voice, “He looks normal on the surface, burying himself all day in military expense ledgers. But yesterday, one of the clerks said he made several mistakes in the calculations.”

Xie Wei fell silent and asked no more.

He carried the food box and walked toward Jiang Xuening’s courtyard.

His injury had yet to heal, so his steps were small and slow.

When he reached the corridor outside the courtyard, he happened to spot Shen Zhiyi.

Though she had been rescued, the princess couldn’t return to the capital for the time being. She wore a pale, plain dress and stood quietly beneath a flower trellis just budding for spring, gazing toward the courtyard. Her eyes held a distant sorrow, like misty rain.

Xie Wei paused.

He looked toward the courtyard as well, then said, “Your Highness, aren’t you going to see her?”

Shen Zhiyi saw him and remained silent for a moment before replying, “I don’t dare.”

Xie Wei said, “Second Miss Ning came to the borderlands to save the princess. You Fangyin followed her here and lost her life because of it. Your Highness feels guilty, so you dare not face her, am I right?”

Shen Zhiyi heard a faint edge in those words.

She stared at Xie Wei.

But Xie Wei remained calm, as if life and death were nothing to him. He merely said, “If I were in your place, I, too, would lie awake at night with a troubled heart. But standing here won’t change anything. If you have nothing else to do, Your Highness, it’s still early spring and the wind is cold—better not linger out here and risk falling ill.”

He walked down the steps.

Shen Zhiyi watched his back. She wasn’t sure if that trace of hostility was real or just her imagination. Yet at that moment, she didn’t care about who Xie Wei really was.

So she asked him, unusually blunt: “Mister Xie, are you jealous of me?”

Xie Wei didn’t smile, didn’t respond. He simply lowered his eyes and walked away.

The maids outside stood anxiously in place, ready in case Jiang Xuening suddenly called out.

The food inside had long gone cold.

The door remained tightly shut, with no sign of opening, and complete silence within.

In truth, the door wasn’t locked—not even bolted from the inside.

But no one dared to disturb her.

Xie Wei didn’t even need to look at the maids to know the situation. Carrying the food box, he stepped forward and gently pushed the door open.

Though it was daytime, the room was extremely dark.

A streak of harsh light widened slowly with the creak of the door, falling across the cold floor.

From a shadowy corner came a cold voice: “Get out.”

Xie Wei heard it but wasn’t angry. After stepping inside, he turned and quietly shut the door behind him.

He followed the voice, carrying the food box.

Jiang Xuening was sitting on the floor in a dark corner, leaning against the wall, her arms loosely wrapped around her drawn-up knees. When she heard footsteps approaching, a flash of intense hostility suddenly swept across her otherwise emotionless face. She looked up, ready to lash out.

But what she saw was Xie Wei.

Her face was so pale it was nearly translucent, her body so frail it looked as if a breeze could carry her away. Her lips, drained of color, were fragile, yet her eyes—deepened by her sunken cheeks—were shockingly dark, like blades gleaming in the night, sharp enough to pierce the heart.

Jiang Xuening stared at him. “Why are you here?”

Xie Wei placed the food box on the table and set the plate of peach blossom pastries in front of her. “Eat something.”

He had intended to sit down in front of her.

But the wound in his abdomen still hadn’t healed, and he couldn’t manage to sit on the floor. So instead, he gently pulled a chair over, sat beside her, and said, “Zhou Yinzhi has escaped. It’s unlikely he’ll be caught any time soon. If you starve yourself to death first, people will just laugh at us.”

Jiang Xuening noticed the stiffness in his movements, more pronounced than usual, and calmly said, “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

But Xie Wei said, “Ning’er, sometimes it’s not that people want to stand at the summit, or climb to the edge of a cliff. It’s just that they walk all the way to the end—only to realize it is a cliff. Life is like the storm behind you: flying sand and crumbling stones, a raging wind that destroys everything. You either stand there and let it devour you, or you’re forced to close your eyes and jump into the abyss ahead. Even if you wanted another choice, there is none.”

Jiang Xuening blinked. “Why me? Why her?”

Xie Wei raised his hand, his fingertip touching her cheek as he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her snow-white ear.

His voice was like the mountain mist after rain, soft and quiet with a faint veil of haze.

He said, “Life is a process of constant loss. If not this, then that. You can’t cling to the things that are already gone—that will only make you lose what you still have.”

In this moment, Jiang Xuening seemed so fragile.

As if dropping her would shatter her to pieces.

His movements were incredibly careful—even the sleeve of his robe barely stirred the dust floating in the air.

She felt like a porcelain jar filled with hatred, anger, unwillingness, and sorrow—raging within, yet outwardly cold as dead ash.

There are many things in this world that are hard to understand.

She stared at Xie Ju’an, and at such an unfitting time, thought of the past. Then she asked, “That day when I said you once killed me—why didn’t you come and ask me what I meant?”

Xie Wei lowered his eyes and slowly said, “I didn’t want to know.”

Jiang Xuening gave a faint, distant smile. “You really are clever.”

In truth, that sentence had been unfair to this life’s Xie Wei. She knew that. But it was something she couldn’t control—because she was the Jiang Xuening who had lived two lifetimes. The past might fade from others’ memories, but it could not erase the scars carved into her heart.

Xie Ju’an was always a perceptive man.

He could sense the signs and guess the truth—but he didn’t necessarily need to confirm it outright.

As the saying goes: sometimes, it’s wisdom to play the fool.

He was not like Zhang Zhe. Zhang Zhe believed that if two people were to be together, there should be no secrets—otherwise, it wouldn’t last. But Xie Wei was too clever. And precisely because of that, he was willing to remain “ignorant.” Secrets didn’t bother him. To him, they were merely trivial things.

He simply asked in a soft voice, “Do you want to tell me?”

Jiang Xuening said, “I don’t want to.”

She slowly leaned back, her head resting against the cold wall. Blinking, she suddenly recalled something from a long, long time ago. Then she quietly said to him, “Actually, from the first moment I saw you when I was young, I disliked you. You were dressed in white, holding a qin, looking like some frail ghost about to collapse—pitiful, and hard to respect. But your demeanor wasn’t like the others at all, and you were nothing like me. What I hated most were your eyes. They looked like they knew everything, understood everything. I even felt like you were pitying me. You made me realize how different people can be from each other. You made me stand on the far side of a chasm, knowing I was nothing. The closer I got to the capital, the more afraid I became—and the more I hated you. Later, I truly thought, if I had the chance to go back to that moment, I would take your knife, smash your qin, and leave you in the wilderness for the wolves to devour.”

A tear rolled down the corner of her eye.

Xie Wei slowly reached out and pulled her into his arms, letting her rest against his leg, and murmured, “You should have done that.”

Her tense body finally began to tremble.

Jiang Xuening, in the end, revealed all her vulnerability in front of him. But she stared only at a fixed point in the void, and said, “You’re a very bad, very bad man.”

Xie Wei replied, “I am.”

Jiang Xuening cried for a long time.

Xie Wei sat with her through it all. Then slowly said, “Sometimes, if you can’t be a good person, then being a bad one isn’t so terrible. You need to believe you can become someone different—only then can you become someone different. Break through the barrier you’ve set for yourself. First believe, then act. Either be crushed by it, or walk through it. Fortune always favors the few, and Heaven is not especially kind to us. Ning’er, hatred—sometimes it’s a useful thing.”

Just like how he hoped she could believe they could be together.

To break through that barrier.

Jiang Xuening looked up at him. Her smile carried a hint of sarcasm, but it quickly faded, replaced by a profound sorrow and sadness. She asked, “Xie Ju’an, is this how you’ve lived your whole life?”

Xie Wei gave a small nod. “Yes.”

With his eyes lowered, he thought—

Yes. This is how it has always been.

Previous

Next