Chapter 239: World-Weariness

The sky had already darkened, and the ginger soup prepared in advance had gone cold.  

Jiang Xuening still had not returned.  

Yan Lin sent someone to summon Xie Wei to discuss the next steps, and Xie Wei, lowering his eyes, picked up a snow-white handkerchief to wipe the bloodstains from his fingers. He said lightly, “I’ll be there shortly.”  

He set down the handkerchief, ordered the mess in the room to be cleaned up, and instructed the kitchen to keep the ginger soup warm. Then he left the room.  

The path to the meeting hall passed by Jiang Xuening’s courtyard.  

Unexpectedly, he encountered Shen Zhiyi along the way.  

The former imperial princess no longer favored the ornate palace attire of old. She wore a deep red and white wide-sleeved fairy skirt, coming from the direction of Jiang Xuening’s courtyard. Her brows were slightly furrowed, her expression far from relaxed, as if she hadn’t found the person she sought.  

There was a faint scar at the corner of her eye—a mark left on her cheek over twenty years ago when the Tianjiao sect and the Pingnan Prince’s rebels stormed the capital. Back in the palace, she had been preoccupied with the beauty of a woman’s appearance, deeply troubled by this scar. But after enduring a thousand-mile journey for a political marriage, the sandstorms of the frontier, and being reduced to a puppet, she no longer cared about her outward appearance. She didn’t even bother with makeup to conceal the scar, instead embracing a candid, unadorned truth.  

Some things, if ignored or glossed over, were merely self-deception. What was there would not change because of hypocritical pretense.  

That afternoon, Shen Zhiyi had met Zhang Zhe, and her emotions had been in turmoil. Though the mansion was full of people, she could think of no one else to talk to. After sitting alone for over an hour, she decided to seek out Jiang Xuening.  

Unfortunately, Jiang Xuening wasn’t there.  

Just a few steps around the corridor, Shen Zhiyi looked up and saw Xie Wei. In that moment, both their steps came to an eerie halt. The evening rain had not yet ceased, but the air suddenly grew heavy with tension.  

Some things didn’t need to be said aloud—they both understood perfectly.  

The so-called “loyalist army,” the “princess’s edict,” the “restoration of the dynasty”…  

All of it was nonsense!  

Shen Zhiyi had neither issued any edict nor expressed any desire to return to the capital. It was all orchestrated by a hidden hand, manipulating everything and using her as a puppet to provide a convenient, justifiable reason for their actions—a way to make it all appear legitimate and honorable.  

And the so-called “noble princess”?  

She couldn’t even freely step beyond the city gates.  

Shen Zhiyi felt a twinge of irony but didn’t let it show. Instead, she asked first, “Ningning said she was going out of the city to find Wei Liang this afternoon. It’s so late now—has she still not returned?”  

She had seen Zhang Zhe not long ago.  

Xie Wei, hands clasped behind his back, didn’t answer. Instead, he countered, “She’ll return when she’s meant to. She visited Your Highness at noon, and now Your Highness comes seeking her in the evening. Is it to inform her that Zhang Zhe has arrived and arrange a meeting?”  

There were spies among her attendants, reporting her every move. For Shen Zhiyi, raised in the palace, this was nothing new or surprising.  

But knowing that Xie Wei had such precise knowledge of her actions still sent a chill through her.  

She even felt a surge of disgust.  

Her expression grew colder, but she said, “I just wanted to talk to her. With Master Xie holding such power, having already claimed half the realm, there’s no need to be so wary of a discarded puppet like me. After all, isn’t the reason you still allow her to see me because you’re certain I won’t say anything to trouble her?”  

Though Jiang Xuening had rushed to the frontier and saved her, the Xinzhou and Huangzhou armies were undeniably rebellious traitors. For a princess of the imperial clan to be rescued by rebels already placed her in an awkward position.  

If that were all, it might have been manageable.  

But the person she truly cared about had deep, intricate ties to the mastermind behind the rebels.  

You Fangyin was already gone.  

Shen Zhiyi knew everything had been done for her sake. No matter how difficult it was, no matter how far the surface diverged from reality, she would never confide in or complain to Jiang Xuening.  

Because Jiang Xuening was her only friend—  

She didn’t want to burden her with more troubles or push things toward an irreparable abyss.  

Xie Wei knew this well and didn’t deny it. He simply gazed at Shen Zhiyi, his calm, emotionless voice carrying a peculiar ruthlessness: “Since you know I’m wary, you shouldn’t keep seeking her out.”  

Was this the same Xie Wei from the Fengchen Hall days?  

Shen Zhiyi could hardly believe he could say such a thing.  

In an instant, anger surged within her.  

She demanded coldly, “Is this how you love someone? Have you ever asked if she knows, or if she’s willing? There’s no wall in the world that doesn’t let secrets slip, no fire that can be contained by paper. She’s honest and kind, free by nature, while you’re hypocritical and cunning, scheming at every step, keeping her in the dark! What do you take her for? A caged bird?”  

Xie Wei said, “What should she know?”  

Shen Zhiyi sneered, “The Tianjiao sect—you captured them, then released them, letting them wreak havoc and bring suffering to the world! Along the way, how many were displaced, how many perished in the flames of war? If you wanted to rebel, the world has always been there for the taking, but why should the innocent suffer? If you lacked the power to stop it, that would be one thing. But you had the means and chose not to act, deliberately allowing evil to flourish for your own selfish ends! If you wanted to overthrow the court and seize the realm, you could have fought openly, not resorted to such despicable tactics that treat lives like grass!”  

Xie Wei knew exactly what he had done.  

Unmoved, indifferent to the lives of the masses, he only said, “So what?”  

*So what?*  

Shen Zhiyi had seen it all along the way—devastation everywhere. Merchants robbed of their life’s work, wives mourning murdered husbands, homeless children…  

Cries and screams echoed in her ears.  

Traveling with the army, unlike Jiang Xuening and Wei Liang, who were always a few days ahead, she witnessed and heard everything, often unable to sleep at night.  

Now, looking at Xie Wei, she felt as though she were staring at a monster.  

What kind of cold-blooded person could say such a thing?  

She blinked, finally calming herself, and said with deliberate clarity, “Jiang Xuening has a heart full of sincerity. She deserves everyone’s eternal kindness, but you don’t deserve her.”  

With that, she turned and left.  

The words “don’t deserve” stung sharply.  

Xie Wei lowered his eyes, unwilling to argue further. But as he walked a few steps, memories of the past flooded back, intensifying the dark, violent energy already swirling in his heart.  

Suddenly, he stopped.  

Turning back, his voice laced with icy malice, he said cruelly, “The weak are prey to the strong—fools deserve to be slaughtered! Your Highness stands on a crumbling wall, so you should watch your words. Even if one day I kill every last person in this world, blame only the world for willingly being dogs!”  

Without another glance at Shen Zhiyi, he strode toward the meeting hall.  

Shen Zhiyi watched his figure disappear among the layered columns, sensing a ferocious, near-unhinged madness lurking beneath his calm exterior.  

A gust of wind blew, and she felt a chill seep through her.  

She slowly opened her hand, revealing a military tally pieced together from two fragments, lying quietly in her palm. Staring at it for a long time, she felt an absurd sorrow. Closing her eyes, she gripped it tightly, letting it dig painfully into her skin.  

—  

Jiang Xuening didn’t know how she made it back, as if wandering through a dream spanning two lifetimes. The shadows of flowers and trees blurred past, momentarily transforming into the faces of people she’d known across both lives. Her head felt heavy, her steps unsteady, and she could hardly tell where she was.  

Until a hand suddenly grabbed her arm from the side.  

She snapped back to reality.  

The rain had lightened. Yan Lin, dressed in a fitted outfit, stood without an umbrella. Seeing her dazed, almost soulless expression, his sharp brows furrowed. A strange emotion stirred in his chest, leaving him momentarily speechless.  

Jiang Xuening looked at him.  

His maturing features, half-shrouded by the descending night, carried an indescribable weight. He should have asked, “Where have you been?” But what came out was, “Ningning, I had a nightmare last night.”  

Jiang Xuening froze.  

Yan Lin’s hand still gripped her arm, his dark eyes fixed on her. “I was scared. In that dream, I was so cruel to you…”  

A dream…  

If she’d been lost in a haze before, those words jolted her awake.  

A fear from her past life surged up, nearly overwhelming her.  

For a moment, Yan Lin’s face overlapped with the one from her previous life, staring at her in her palace chambers. Her heart trembled violently, and she couldn’t control her instinctive reaction. She yanked her arm free and stepped back.  

Yan Lin watched, his heart twisting as if cut by a knife.  

Before saying those words, he’d even told himself it was just a dream.  

But why was she so afraid?  

His voice, tinged with a hoarse sob, broke slightly. “The dreams you spoke of, the dreams I had—are they real?”  

He was still the Yan Lin of this life.  

Realizing this, Jiang Xuening knew her reaction had hurt him, but she couldn’t help it.  

Was there anything so strange in this world?  

Or had Zhang Zhe’s stories that day, blending past and present, created an illusion where truth and falsehood blurred?  

No…  

She shook her head, a splitting headache overtaking her. She didn’t want to stand there and say another word to Yan Lin.  

But after a few steps, she saw him standing there, like a discarded youth, stripped of his former innocence.  

Guilt welled up.  

Jiang Xuening thought, *They’re not the same person, after all.*  

After standing still for a long time, she finally turned back and said, “It was just a dream. When you wake, it fades. Don’t dwell on it.”  

Yan Lin stood beneath a wall draped in withered vines, watching her walk away.  

Her slender, delicate figure was illuminated by lanterns.  

But in his eyes, reflected in his heart, there was only desolation.  

—  

By the time she reached Xie Wei’s courtyard, the rain had stopped.  

Jiang Xuening’s mind was burdened with too many thoughts, so much that she didn’t want to dwell on what Yan Lin’s words might mean. Even when she arrived at the gate and Dao Qin told her Xie Wei was waiting, she still felt a vague emptiness.  

She stepped into the room.  

A table was set with delicate dishes, a few plates of food, a jug of wine, and two cups already filled. The wine’s surface was still, mirror-like, suggesting it had been poured long ago.  

A new zither rested on the music table.  

The room’s earlier chaos had been tidied away.  

Xie Wei sat at the far end of the table, watching her enter. His face showed no trace of anything unusual. He picked up a cup of wine and offered it to her, asking, “What did you and Wei Liang talk about, coming back so late?”  

Jiang Xuening and Wei Liang had finished early due to the rain, but on her way back to the city, she’d seen Zhang Zhe and chased after him, talking for a long time before returning.  

She didn’t want to tell Xie Wei.  

At the offered cup, she lowered her eyes, avoiding his direct gaze, and smiled. “A farmer’s family kept me talking for a long time. I lost track of time.”  

Xie Wei sat by the table, watching her quietly.  

Her emotions were noticeably more disordered than usual. She didn’t even question why he’d prepared a table of food and wine. Taking the cup, she raised it to drink after speaking.  

Xie Wei’s gaze fell on her fingers holding the cup. 

But just as the cup neared her lips, he abruptly stood, snatched it from her hand, and hurled it to the ground. It shattered with a sharp *crack*.  

In that moment, his face was chillingly cold.  

Whether it was more anger or hatred, he scolded her mercilessly, “Jiang Xuening, are you a fool?!”  

Two drops of the spilled wine splashed onto the silver chopsticks, leaving faint black stains.  

But Jiang Xuening didn’t see.  

She looked up at him, bewildered, unable to process what had happened.  

It had rained that afternoon and evening. Returning from outside, her dark hair was damp at the tips. When Xie Wei grabbed her shoulders, his palms felt the chill of her body.  

His anger flared even hotter.  

He pulled her into the inner room, ordered hot water for a bath, and, with a cold expression, stripped off her rain-soaked clothes, tossing her into the tub.  

Jiang Xuening sank in, nearly submerged in the hot water. Her loosened hair fell in disarray, draping over her pale shoulders and curves.  

When she surfaced, water droplets clung to her long lashes.  

She found his sudden behavior inexplicable and was about to demand an explanation when Xie Wei pressed a hand to the back of her neck. His lips descended, claiming hers with an invasive intensity, tinged with a need for release. His tongue probed, pinning her completely.  

He left Jiang Xuening drenched.  

But the water from her soaked his once-neat robes. She whimpered, feeling a fleeting sense of suffocation.  

This time was fiercer than any before.  

Yet Xie Wei’s eyes were calmer than ever.  

He said, “I want you.”  

Jiang Xuening looked at his obsessive, almost mad expression. For some reason, she felt as though a knife had sliced open her heart, blood gushing from the wound. A profound sorrow overwhelmed her, but she couldn’t speak.  

It was hard to imagine she could feel such pain for this man.  

Xie Wei suddenly loathed the look in her eyes. He covered them with his hand, then buried himself in a deep kiss to her flushed lips, slowly pressing himself into her, bit by bit.  

It was an almost transcendent pleasure.  

But what followed was a desolate emptiness, an unfillable fear, and a deep self-loathing.  

She lay beside him.  

After a quiet moment, Xie Wei asked, “Shall we marry?”  

Jiang Xuening didn’t answer.  

She bit her lip, one hand clutching her chest, desperately suppressing something. Tears soaked the pillow—she feared that if she spoke, she’d sob aloud.  

Xie Wei waited a long time.  

But he didn’t dare ask again.  

Rising and dressing, he saw the spilled wine and the moonlight streaming through the window. He recalled Lu Xian’s old jest:  

*Xie Ju’an may not always win, but he’ll never lose.*  

But what if…  

This time, he wanted to win, no matter what?

Previous

Next