Overdo - Lingering Strings of Meaning
Lingering Strings of Meaning
The zither strings write out thoughts, a dense melody of shattered notes. I have filled countless pages with longing, yet I regret that my heart’s spring cannot find a way to reach you.
I lie here listening to the rain pattering against the paulownia trees, the moonlight after the storm hazy and pale. Where do my dreams wander through the long night? Once again, I am back in the Willow Pavilion.
The weather was sweltering. Because he was on duty and wearing his military uniform, Lei Shaogong was drenched in sweat after walking over from the corridor. As soon as he entered the duty room, he took off his hat; although the electric fan on the ceiling was spinning, it only circulated waves of hot air. He had just poured some cold tea from the pot when the bell rang. The attendant on duty let out an "eh" and said, "Strange, the master is not here; who is ringing the bell in the study?" Lei Shaogong replied, "It is likely the Third Young Master. I will go and take a look."
Murong Qingyi, not expecting it to be him, kept his head lowered and said, "Bring me all the files that Father mentioned yesterday." Lei Shaogong asked, "That will not be a quick task. Will you be eating dinner here today, Third Young Master?" Only then did Murong Qingyi look up. "It is you? You have become even more long-winded than the others; you are even meddling in kitchen matters now."
Lei Shaogong replied, "You have not been home for nearly a month. Today is your birthday—go home and have a meal."
Murong Qingyi let out a "hmph" and said, "Am I not at home right now? Where else would you have me go?" Seeing that he was feigning ignorance, yet fearing that if he spoke too bluntly it might backfire, Lei Shaogong had no choice but to say, "They called from over there to say that the Young Mistress has been ill for the past few days. You should really go back and check on her." Seeing that he remained silent, he knew there was some loosening of resolve, so he added, "I will go call the car."
It was the hour of twilight, and the setting sun slanted across the courtyard, casting deep, sparse shadows of the trees and flowers. Water had been sprinkled on the bluestone slabs, causing heat to rise in waves. The tuberoses below the steps were in bloom, their scent intensified by the baking heat. Susu sat in a rattan chair; all was quiet around her, save for the heat—a heat so oppressive it made one restless. She fanned herself with a silk fan in a slow, rhythmic motion. Xinjie walked over and said, "They just watered the courtyard, and it is very hot here. Why don’t you go inside and sit, Young Mistress?" She was too lazy to move, and too lazy to speak; she simply shook her head slowly. Xinjie asked, "The kitchen is asking what you would like for dinner. Shall it be porridge again?"
She nodded. Xinjie left, but after a moment, she returned beaming. "Young Mistress, the Third Young Master is back." Her hand trembled slightly; her heart felt scorched, as if by fire. He had returned after all.
Her soft-soled satin shoes made no sound as she moved across the floor. The lights in the living room were not on, and his face was indistinct in the dimness. She stood far away, lonely and isolated, waiting for him to speak.
Behind her was the hazy afterglow of dusk, outlining her slight silhouette. He gazed at her for a long time; between them stood half a room, yet it felt like a world apart. An unbridgeable chasm—he would never be able to make her smile for him. In his presence, she always kept her head bowed, silent and reserved.
A sense of powerlessness welled up within him, forcing him to turn his face away. With an expressionless, cold tone, he spoke, "I heard you were ill. Did you have Dr. Xu come to take a look?" She nodded gently. There was only a cold, weary indifference on his face, and she suddenly lost her last shred of hope. Xinjie, however, could not help herself and said joyfully, "Third Young Master, the Young Mistress was too shy to say—congratulations are in order."
He turned his face to look at her, but in her eyes, there was only a calm apathy. So, this child—she viewed it as something dispensable, or perhaps, she might even despise it. She did not love him, and by extension, she did not even want his child. He lost even the courage to ask a single question, simply staring at her.
A desolate sorrow gradually rose in her eyes... He had guessed correctly after all. This ill-timed child was merely an added annoyance, a burden to her. He turned his face away in exhaustion. Outside the window, the dusk deepened, the shadows of the flowering trees grew blurred, and the sky turned black.
Lei Shaogong did not expect him to emerge so quickly; knowing that he must be in a foul mood, he followed him into the car in silence. Finally, he heard him say, "We are going to eat Suzhou cuisine."
The tea boy at Yixinji, upon seeing him, greeted him as if he were royalty. He ushered him in with a beaming smile, chattering incessantly along the way: "It has been a while since you graced our humble establishment, Third Young Master. We have exceptionally fresh mandarin fish today." He then called to the counter, "Go to the cellar and bring that jar of twenty-year-old Daughter Red wine."
Whether it was truly twenty-year-old vintage was just the proprietor’s boast. But that Daughter Red had an excellent aftertaste. He and Lei Shaogong drank together; Lei Shaogong was still able to hold his liquor, but Murong Qingyi was already seven or eight parts drunk. Just as the dessert soup was being served, someone pushed the door open and said with a smile, "Third Young Master, on a day like today, this uninvited guest must come to offer a toast."
Lei Shaogong looked up and saw that she was wearing a fall-fragrance-colored qipao, moving with grace—it was Xu Changxuan. She was very close to Jinrui, who regarded her like a little sister, and thus she was also very familiar with Murong Qingyi. Murong Qingyi was heavily intoxicated, and he only smiled. "Aren't you studying abroad? When did you return?" Xu Changxuan replied, "I have been back for a while. I remember today is a special day; why are you eating here alone? Where is the Young Mistress?"
Lei Shaogong saw that she was touching a sore spot and quickly asked, "Miss Xu, are you back for a vacation, or are you staying for good?" Xu Changxuan said, "I am staying. I won't be leaving again." Seeing that Murong Qingyi was staring at her, she slowly lowered her head.
Madame Murong returned from her summer retreat in Fenggang, and both Jinrui and Weiyi came to see her. The children were playing in the courtyard, and the mother and her two daughters sat talking in the small living room. Weiyi asked, "Is the Third Sister-in-law coming over today?" Madame Murong said, "She is not feeling well, so I told her there was no need to come." Jinrui said, "I think Third Brother is being a scoundrel this time. With Susu in this state, he is still out causing trouble." Weiyi added, "It is also strange. We have known Changxuan for all these years—why has Third Brother taken a fancy to her now?"
Jinrui said, "I think Changxuan is being foolish." But Madame Murong said, "Changxuan is not foolish; it is Third Brother who is foolish." She added, "Jinrui, you should not underestimate Changxuan."
Jinrui felt displeased. A few days later, she invited Xu Changxuan out for tea. Seeing her wearing a snow-blue qipao with cloud-patterned damask, she could not help but ask, "Why are you dressed so plainly?" Changxuan smiled, "Lately, I feel that a more refined style is prettier." Jinrui said, "Changxuan, you know our Third Brother. He is an expert at breaking hearts. Do not fall for his tricks." Changxuan laughed, "What is the First Sister saying? I have been with the Third Young Master quite often lately, but it is nothing more than eating and drinking tea." Seeing her say this, Jinrui understood a bit more, felt quite displeased, and only said, "Then take care of yourself."
After the Lunar New Year, Madame Murong, mindful that Susu’s due date was approaching and fearing that she would be poorly cared for while living alone, had her move back to Shuangqiao for closer supervision. Murong Qingyi’s visits home were naturally fleeting—he would show his face briefly and then leave.
The weather grew warmer day by day. Susu was walking in the courtyard. Just as she passed a flower screen, she heard a familiar voice—it was Weiyi, her tone tinged with annoyance. "Third Brother is simply foolish. The Third Sister-in-law is about to give birth, yet he won't even come home." The other voice was Jinrui’s. "Indeed. Xu Changxuan really has him wrapped around her finger." Susu did not wish to eavesdrop and turned to leave, but in her haste, she twisted her waist, and a sharp pain ripped through her abdomen. She could not help but let out an "Aiya." Jinrui and Weiyi quickly stepped out from behind the flower screen to check on her. Seeing her covered in sweat from the pain, Weiyi panicked first: "Third Sister-in-law!" Jinrui said, "It looks like she is in labor. Quickly, go get someone!" As she spoke, she moved forward to support her.
Susu was dizzy and drifting in and out of consciousness from the pain. Madame Murong, though usually composed, was sitting in the living room, unable to sit still. She sat for a moment, then stood up again. After a while, she asked, "Has the Third one returned yet?" Weiyi said, "He should be here any moment now." Jinrui remained calm, only saying, "Mother, you are too partial. When I gave birth to Xiao Rui, I didn't see you like this." Madame Murong said, "This child... sigh..." As she spoke, she looked up and saw Murong Qingyi had returned. Seeing his pale face, she comforted him, "It looks like there is still time, don't worry." Even though she said that, Murong Qingyi was restless, pacing back and forth like a trapped beast, glancing up at the floor above from time to time.
It started to rain after nightfall, and past midnight, the downpour only grew heavier. Outside the window, the rustling of leaves and branches could be heard; the wind blew through the cracks of the window, causing the heavy curtains to subtly rise and fall. Madame Murong felt a damp chill seep into her body. She turned her head and softly called for the servant, "Have them light the fireplace. Be light on your feet; don't wake Susu." She then said to Jinrui and Weiyi, "You two go to sleep first. You can set your minds at ease now." Weiyi laughed softly, "How could anyone fall asleep at a time like this? We have to wait until they finish bathing the child and bring her out for us to see before we can close our eyes."
The fire in the fireplace was lit, its red glow bathing the entire room in warmth. Madame Murong saw that Susu was utterly exhausted, sleeping very deeply. A few strands of hair clung to her face, fine beads of sweat still lingered on her forehead, and on her snow-white face, thick black eyelashes rested lightly like closed fans. Looking up, she saw Murong Qingyi staring intently at Susu without blinking, and she could not help but sigh softly once more.
The nurse brought the baby out, and Weiyi was the first to take her. She let out a soft "Ah" and said, "Look, Third Brother, this child's features are so exquisite. She will definitely be a great beauty when she grows up." Madame Murong smiled, "Her grandfather has already called twice to ask about her." Jinrui let out a soft chuckle and said, "Father has finally become a grandfather; I am afraid he might be so overjoyed that he will rush back early." She added, "Third Brother, have you gone silly with happiness? You haven't said a single word." Weiyi countered, "I know Third Brother; he is sulking because a daughter was born." Madame Murong said, "What is wrong with having a daughter? You can just have a boy next year." She then added, "Let's not stay here, lest we wake Susu. You have seen the child, now hurry back to your rooms and sleep."
After they walked out, Madame Murong gave the nurse a few more instructions before returning to her own room. The nurse took the baby away, and the room grew quiet. In her groggy state, Susu only felt someone gently hold her hand. The hand was exceptionally warm, making one yearn for it. Thinking it was Madame Murong, she mumbled vaguely in her haze, "Mom," and then drifted back into a deep sleep.
Murong Qingyi gazed at her for a long time. Her hand still rested lightly in his palm, soft and slightly cool. Only now, only at this very moment, could he look at her without restraint, without her turning away from him. She had suffered so much, yet she had not breathed a word of it to him, never poured her heart out to him; she was even better disposed toward Madame Murong than toward him.
Holding his arm out for so long, it gradually grew numb and achy, yet he wished the sky would never brighten, hoping this moment could last just a little bit longer, just a little bit longer.
Murong Feng's official duties were burdensome, and it was the third day before he returned to Shuangqiao. When Murong Qingyi went to see him in the study, he saw an attendant grinding ink to the side. Murong Feng was just setting down his brush. Seeing him enter, he said, "You are here at just the right time." Murong Qingyi saw four characters written on the rice paper and softly read them aloud: "Murong Jingyan." He knew this came from the line Silently, I ponder in the Book of Odes. Madame Murong said from the side, "It is certainly a good name, but it is a bit too scholarly. Everyone has been calling her Nannan these past two days; it seems this pet name will be used for a long time."
The Murong family had a multitude of relatives and friends. Murong Feng had always disliked extravagant displays, but in his joy this time, he made an exception, and Madame Murong hosted an incredibly lively and grand one-month birthday banquet. Nannan was naturally carried out by Susu, allowing the relatives and friends to get a good look at her. Everyone clicked their tongues in praise, and Wang Qilin stood to the side, saying with a beaming smile, "What a true little beauty in the making." She then added, "It's just that she doesn't look like the Third Young Master; she has inherited all of her mother's beauty." Weiyi said, "Who says she doesn't look like him? Look at her high nose bridge; it looks so much like Third Brother." Wang Qilin laughed, "Look at my clumsy tongue; I did not mean it that way." Susu raised her eyes; her pupils were distinctly black and white, her gaze clear and cold. For some unknown reason, it caused Wang Qilin to freeze, but she immediately laughed and said, "Third Young Mistress, please don't take it to heart. You know I am the worst at speaking; the moment I open my mouth, I say the wrong thing."
The banquet did not disperse until late at night. After Murong Qingyi finished seeing the guests out and came upstairs, he first went to the nursery to see the child, then came over to the bedroom. Susu was not yet asleep. Seeing him enter, her pitch-black eyes stared straight at him like the coldest starlight, neither angry nor sorrowful, yet they evoked that bone-deep chill in him once again. This chill ultimately provoked an instinctive anger. "Do not look at me like that! I said I wouldn't touch you, and I won't touch you again for the rest of my life!"
Her eyes were like the water in a deep pool, calm and unrippled. After a long while, she slowly lowered her head as usual, as if letting out a sigh of relief. He hated her venomously in his heart. The way she treated him had destroyed his everything. The rest of his life would be this endless despair and cruelty. She had so easily forced him to a dead end, ultimately forcing him to say coldly, "Don't think you can have things your way and treat me like a fool."
She raised her eyes once again, her gaze still indifferent and clear, like fresh snow under the moonlight, chilling a person straight to the heart. She finally spoke, saying, "You suspect me like this?"
He knew she had misunderstood his meaning, but the tearful glimmer in her eyes finally gave him a resolute sense of gratification. He had angered her after all. He would rather she hate him than have her look at him with such calmness, as if her gaze passed right through his body, only looking at some empty void. Treating him as if he were nothing—he would rather she hate him, even if it meant she only remembered him through hatred. She was so heartless and cruel that she had forced even his heart to die; he was already suffering eternal torment in the lowest levels of hell. Then let her hate him completely. If she could hate him enough to remember him, hate him enough to never forget him for all eternity, it would still be better than him holding not the slightest trace of a place in her heart. He blurted out, "That's right, I do suspect you. I suspect that child—along with the one from six years ago. How do I know if he is my son?"
She trembled all over. Her heart's greatest agony was treated as a scam by him. So, in his heart, she was already this unbearable. The faint sound of a baby crying came from next door. It turned out she was wrong; he was so stingy that he refused to give her even the last shred of dignity. He was so vicious, trampling her wantonly, only to then spout such cold-blooded and cruel words. The child's crying grew louder, and she turned her head away in despair. It would have been better not to bring her into this world; it turned out what awaited her in her swaddling clothes was nothing but humiliation. She was questioned like this; to think he would actually question her like this.
The child's cries grew louder and louder, each sound seeming to tear at her very heart and soul. Tears burst from her eyes; she gently shook her head, leaving only a final, bleak despair in her gaze. That expression caused a sharp ache in his heart, and an ominous premonition surged up. He lunged forward to grab her hand. She struggled desperately, but he refused to let go. She bit forcefully into the back of his hand, the metallic taste of blood seeping between her teeth and lips, yet he still clamped onto her tightly, refusing to yield. She finally wrenched one hand free and swung it hard. With a loud smack, she slapped him heavily across the face. She froze. He stood stunned as well, gradually loosening his grip. She abruptly turned and bolted out the door. He chased after her. She nearly fell down the stairs; every step felt empty, every step a plummet. The pain was already numb, leaving only a desperate urge to abandon everything. She would rather die. She would rather die than continue living—living to suffer this kind of humiliation and suspicion, living to continue facing him. For him to treat her like this, she would rather go and die.
In front of the corridor was parked the car that had just returned from seeing the guests off. The driver had just stepped out, and the engine was still running. She shoved the driver aside and got into the car. She heard his final, mournful cry: "Susu!"
She slammed her foot down on the gas pedal. The car shot straight forward like a flitting black butterfly, crashing with a loud boom into a massive ginkgo tree thick as a man's embrace. The ginkgo tree had just sprouted new leaves; in the warm yellow glow of the streetlamp, a flurry of emerald fans drifted down like a dense, jade-green rainstorm. A tremendous pain swept over her from all directions, and boundless darkness swallowed everything. She only had time to reveal a final, relieved smile.
The long, drawn-out night seemed as though it would never wait for the dawn. In the lounge, a single lamp cast a hazy glow, like a weeping eye, blurry and stinging. The sound of shuffling footsteps finally startled him out of his deepest, most sunken shock, like a child who has only just realized he has been separated from his parents. A massive panic, accompanied by a pain akin to despair, gripped him as he stared straight at the doctor’s face. The doctor, pressured by Murong Qingyi’s gaze, dared not look back. Madame Murong asked slowly, "What is the truth? Just tell us straight."
"Intracranial hemorrhage. We—we cannot stop the bleeding."
Murong Qingyi finally asked, "What do you mean by that?" His eyes were nothing but bloodshot, entangled with a despair as demonic as a nightmare, and the sight sent a chill down the doctor's spine. Madame Murong gently took his hand and said, "Good child, go see her." Weiyi could finally hold it in no longer; she covered her mouth with her handkerchief and sobbed aloud. Murong Qingyi shook his head slightly. After a moment, he flung Madame Murong’s hand away as if he had gone mad, stumbling as he pushed open the door to the patient’s room. Jinrui, seeing him nearly fall, stepped forward to support him, only to be shoved aside by his lurching movement.
One of Susu’s arms hung limply at the side of the bed. The room was so quiet that one could almost hear the sound of the intravenous drip falling. He lifted her hand, and with great solemnity and slowness, pressed it against his own face. There was not a shred of color left on her face, and her slightly trembling eyelashes were like the most fragile stamen in the wind. Every rapid, shallow breath beneath the oxygen mask felt like a blade, slowly carving and twisting his innards, one slice at a time. He had never felt such cold; it was as if he were in an ice cellar, and the blood in his entire body seemed to be freezing into ice. He would rather it be him—he would rather be the one facing death than have to face her like this. It was so cruel. She had resisted him with such cruelty through death; she would rather die than face him again. His heart was withered to the extreme; only despair remained. So that was it—she would rather die than ever have him again.
This realization caused him to almost lose his sanity. He slowly lowered his head, filled with despair and sorrow, "I am begging you. I have never begged anyone in my life, but I am begging you—I beg you, you must live. I promise you that you can leave me from now on. I promise you that from this moment forward, I will never appear before you again. Even if it means I can never see you again for the rest of this life, I only beg you to live.”