Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

The drizzle pattered upon the smooth bluestone slabs, casting a sheen like a layer of pig’s lard. Feng Zhongyan walked slowly, pausing to look back as he descended the steps. Behind him, Shen Mingsu held up her skirt with one hand and raised an umbrella with the other; the low-hanging canopy shielded her gaze from his, her footing steady and sure.

The two exchanged a few words in the carriage.

Shen Mingsu first inquired, “Governor, why did you return so early today?”

Feng Zhongyan knew what she was waiting to hear; with his wounds healed, the case should naturally have reached its conclusion. He replied, “Rongxiu has confessed.”

The carriage jolted as they sat down. Shen Mingsu’s eyes flickered; though she already suspected the answer, she still sought confirmation. “It was her?”

Feng Zhongyan paused briefly, expression unchanged, then nodded. “There won’t be a next time.”

Shen Mingsu remained silent, not pressing further, but glanced sideways at him. “Are your injuries fully healed as well?”

He smiled faintly. “My skin is thick; it’s long since mended.”

She smiled along, casually agreeing. “Mmm, you’ve never feared pain.”

That single remark stirred memories.

A dull ache surfaced faintly—a lingering tension between them, unbroken for half a month, weighing heavily upon his chest.

Feng Zhongyan’s gaze drifted to her hand resting on her lap.

Just then, Shen Mingsu lifted her arm, gently pushed open the lattice window, and lifted a corner of the cloth curtain. A cool breeze swept inside, stirring a strand of hair by her cheek with a chill. “It’s stopped raining.”

The carriage halted at the street corner, dusk settling like a veil. The clouds overhead dispersed, revealing a heightening sky. Without umbrellas, they strolled along the riverbank.

Lanterns flickered aboard the black-canopied boats.

The street gradually came alive with activity.

Feng Zhongyan no longer walked ahead alone; he adjusted his pace to match hers, walking side by side.

The wind caught his wide sleeves, trailing them by her side. That fluttering cuff came closer than ever before, yet her hand never reached out to touch it.

The burning frustration consumed him like shifting quicksand. Suddenly, he stopped.

Shen Mingsu took several steps before turning back.

Since the calamity, she had grown noticeably leaner. Today, she wore a smoky purple gown cinched at the waist, accentuating her slender figure.

Through the faint lamplight, he observed her calm expression, but his throat tightened unexpectedly. Softly, he said, “Tomorrow, I’ll take you back to the Feng estate. Let Liansheng prepare some nourishing soup for you.”

Though they had never spoken of it, some things must be voiced. Since he would not move, she ceased walking as well, replying slowly, “A year ago, Madam Feng asked me how I came to the capital.”

“I said by boat, but I didn’t tell her how I boarded that boat.” She looked at him calmly. “After the Shen family was destroyed, I left Youzhou with Yueyao, begging along the way. I hid from assassins, struggled to survive, scavenged under watchful eyes, stole food from shops, was bitten by dogs, chased by enemies. After losing Yueyao, I spent two days in the water before finally finding a ship bound for the capital.”

She averted her gaze from his face. The river rippled lightly in the breeze. She inhaled softly. “So, I’m not afraid of pain.”

Having known true suffering, these surface wounds were nothing.

After the wind died down and hearing no response, she continued, “Do you remember the medicine boy? He always smiled, and every time we returned late, he was the one to open the door for us. That day, he blocked the door. The Shen family’s dozen or so men protected us—mother, Yueyao, and I fled with father. Kneeling before old friends, we begged for shelter, but none opened their doors. Father couldn’t endure and passed away; mother, in despair, took her own life. She made me bring Yueyao to the capital to find you.”

The pain and helplessness of falling into the abyss remained vivid and real after more than a year.

As they escaped the Shen household, the medicine boy shouted through the closing door crack, “Mistress, don’t be afraid. I’ll wait for your return and open the door for you again.”

They were still waiting for her, waiting for her to come back and open the door.

“You’ve protected me for a year, deliberately testing my patience, hoping I’d forget the Shen family, settle for the present, and cease holding grudges. But...” Through the misty haze, she looked at his blurred figure blending into the night and asked hoarsely, “Can I forget?”

Could she ever forget?

Memories cannot be erased, nor could he imprison her forever.

“I’m not going back.” Only now did she answer his earlier words, calling out the name he had waited half a month to hear. “Brother Feng, I can’t go back.”

Night deepened, pressing down like a shroud, shadows disappearing. After a long silence, Feng Zhongyan finally spoke, his voice hoarse and hurried, “I will take you back.”

Shen Mingsu shook her head. “Your surname is Feng, not Shen.”

“Back then, you were drowning in blood, your leg broken, helpless as the Feng family died one by one protecting you. That feeling of helplessness—you can’t forget it either.”

He had struggled to rise; how could she drag him back into the abyss again?

“You once told me no one in this world could protect me except myself. Now, the same applies to me.”

“Don’t worry, I’m no longer the Ajin I used to be.” The blur in her eyes faded slowly. She glimpsed his pained face and smiled lightly. “You were right to restrain my temper. On the way to the capital, I thought: once I reach the Feng family and have someone of your stature backing me, I will repay all the suffering I endured—double. If you truly let me act recklessly, who knows what chaos would ensue?”

“My father often said my nature was unchangeable. This pride of mine probably can’t be fixed. I never imagined I could change even a little. If I were still the fiery spirit I once was, and Lord Feng treated me with such coldness over this past year, I might have thrown myself into the lake long ago. But I am no longer that person. Besides living for myself, I carry the lives lost in the Shen family on my shoulders.”

She had no time to pity herself.

“I’ve already given the marriage contract to Madam Feng,” she said, echoing his earlier words to her. “Forget everything about the Shen family, Brother Feng.”

Regrets, of course, remained.

The girl who loved him for four years had crossed mountains and rivers, survived countless tearful nights fueled by hope in him, persevered to reach the capital, yet in the end, never found the embrace she longed for.

But in this world, regrets are never just one.

Her father’s last glance was to the north. He never saw his beloved disciple return. Her mother’s dying regret went unfulfilled—she lost Yueyao.

Many things cannot be made whole.

She raised her head, looking at the motionless figure before her. His refined face was bathed in dazzling light, the brilliance obscuring his eyes. She no longer looked closely.

The weather was fickle. She said, “It might rain again soon. Lord Feng, please see me off here.”

Before he could answer, she turned and headed toward the narrow alley.

She would not go to Qingzhou. She would live here as Jiang Shijin, continuing to seek the truth.

She did not know if the man behind her was still there, but after countless disappointments from looking back, she no longer made a habit of it.

Nor was there any need to look back. After today, they were strangers.

—

That figure receded into the distance and vanished. Fu An looked at his master in confusion, seeing him still standing motionless. As he stepped forward, Feng Zhongyan turned around.

He did not return but sat sideways on a stone bench by the riverbank.

The cold wind brushed his face. For the first time, he felt the chill of spring rain.

He had wanted to shape her into a smooth, warm jade, as long as she would live safely. But over the past year, the submissive person he thought he knew was not her at all.

The one who had stood before him just now, tearing at his heart—that was the true Shen Mingsu.

He could not contain her. Or rather, he could, by countless means, hide her again, but he hesitated.

Did she want to cast him aside?

She could not escape, Ajin.

Exhaling, he realized his chest was so tightly bound it tingled numb. The moisture in his eyes grew cold. Feng Zhongyan gave a bitter smile. She had truly grown up—could be ruthless now.

As he rose, Fu An asked cautiously, “Master, where is Lady Shen? Where did she go?”

“She left me behind,” he said as if it were a casual remark.

“Huh?”

Fu An wanted to ask more but glanced at Feng Zhongyan’s pale face. Having lain buried in the snow all night, he was hardly in good shape and dared not speak further.

—

After returning to the small courtyard, Shen Mingsu changed her clothes and lay on the garden chair, gazing at the sky devoid of nightfall, and dozed off.

Her sleep was restless.

Perhaps recalling the memories in front of Feng Zhongyan was the cause. She dreamed again of the Shen household.

The Shen family was still intact; everyone was there.

Feng Zhongyan was there too.

A group moved the medicinal herbs in the yard. Her father turned back. “Yueyao, go check if your mother’s dumplings are ready.”

“All right.” Her swirling skirt floated like mist within her sight.

Soon, people emerged, followed by her mother, each carrying two plates of dumplings. “You must be hungry; wash your hands quickly.”

“They smell so good.” The eldest cousin was the first to the table.

Seeing him reach for some, she hurriedly tapped his wrist with her chopsticks. “Don’t touch that—it’s mustard greens. Brother Feng dug them up.”

The cousin glanced at Feng Zhongyan still gathering herbs inside the house, grinning mischievously, “Good sister, just let me have it.”

“No way!”

“Why are you fighting again?” Father stepped forward, pushing cousin’s hand away. “If you want some, dig them yourself tomorrow.” He lifted the whole plate and set it before her. “These are all Ajin’s. No one else is allowed to take them.”

She beckoned, “Brother Feng, Yueyao, come eat quickly...”

Nearby, the medicine boy, his mouth still burning from the dumpling, stammered, “If the masters like them, I’ll go dig more on the mountain tomorrow.”

“I’ll go too.”

“Me too...”

“I think you’re just trying to slack off. Don’t you need to dry the herbs inside?”

Laughter erupted, filling the air. Suddenly, the ground shook violently; the courtyard transformed, the people changed. Blood covered the floor. The medicine boy’s face turned sorrowful and fierce as he shouted at her, “Mistress, hurry and take Master away!”

Where should she go? She did not know. Holding her father, sitting on the street, the cries of her mother and Yueyao ringing in her ears—endless anguish and helpless despair nearly consumed her.

She woke gasping for air, only to find a few faint stars overhead.

—

The next day, her shadow puppet show reopened.

At the same place as before, Aunt Wang hadn’t seen her for over half a month and thought she wouldn’t return. Suddenly seeing her again, she was both surprised and delighted, anxiously asking, “Miss Shijin, are you all right?”

Shen Mingsu smiled, “It’s all past now, Aunt Wang. No need to worry.”

She had not performed during the day, wandering around, even lingering near the brothel for half a day.

Feng Zhongyan said it was Rongxiu, and surely all those who interrogated her had been dealt with. However, besides her, there had been one other person in the cell that day.

After searching all day without success, upon returning to the bridge market and passing the stone bridge, she spotted someone reclining at the bridgehead. The posture seemed strangely familiar. As she stepped forward, she stumbled back. Before she could speak, the person turned his face.

Unlike the last time’s fake skin, this time he wore a silver mask.

The exposed corner of his lips curled upward as he smiled at her. “Looking for me?”