Overdo - You Are a Good Person, But I Am Not Worthy of You

You Are a Good Person, But I Am Not Worthy of You

She had a large bruise on her leg; the next day, she accidentally bumped it against the practice barre, and the pain made her gasp softly. After practicing for two hours, the pain in her leg grew increasingly severe, so she had no choice but to stop. With the year coming to an end, everyone felt a bit lazy, so when the afternoon practice finished and the director announced he was treating everyone to a meal, they all left happily. Only after arriving did they realize the hosts were several businessmen sponsoring the dance troupe. Fortunately, because there were so many people, it was lively enough that their chatter and laughter drowned out even the sound of the pingtan singers on stage.

Susu sat in the corner, though she could hear every word being sung clearly. She had been away from her hometown for a long time; the Suzhou dialect was like scattered wildflowers in her memory, one branch here, another there, swaying and drifting in the wind. The plucking of the pipa sounded so beautiful, as if it were strumming her own heartstrings. She passed the meal in a daze, and it wasn't until the shark fin was served that she heard someone beside her ask in a low voice, "Is Miss Ren from the South?" It startled her, and she realized it was that Mr. Zhang whom Mulan had mentioned. She replied softly, "Yes." Mr. Zhang continued, "What a coincidence, so am I." He then began to describe the scenery and customs of their homeland in detail. He was naturally articulate, and his descriptions of the local culture were so engaging that even the people around them stopped to listen. Susu had moved to Wuchi with her uncle when she was very young, and her childhood memories had long since faded into a vague nostalgia, making her listen with even more intensity.

After the meal, everyone played cards in the private room. Susu didn't know how to play, so she said she would leave first. Mr. Zhang, having the intention to follow, said, "I have a car; let me take you, Miss Ren." Susu shook her head and said, "Thank you, but I will take a rickshaw back. It is very close." Mr. Zhang did not force the issue; he personally hailed a rickshaw for her and insisted on paying the fare in advance. Susu felt uneasy about it and could only thank him.

The next day, Mr. Zhang invited her out again, but she used a headache as an excuse to decline. Alone at home with nothing to do, and the weather being very cold, she casually held an orange by the stove to warm it, producing a faint, sour fragrance. She didn't feel like eating it, though, and out of boredom, she began looking around. With the New Year approaching, the dampness in the room had caused many black spots to appear on the walls, so she mixed some paste with flour and took some white paper to patch the walls. She had only pasted a few sheets when she heard someone outside ask, "Is Miss Ren at home?" Looking through the window, she saw it was Mr. Zhang. She hadn't expected him to find her at home; though she felt uneasy, she had no choice but to open the door and invite him in. With a smile, she said, "I am so sorry, I have the whole place in a mess." Mr. Zhang, seeing the situation, understood immediately and rolled up his sleeves, saying, "How can I let a young lady like you do this kind of work?" Without further ado, he pulled over a stool and began pasting the paper for her.

She could not refuse, so she had no choice but to hand him the paper while he worked and chatted with her. Only then did she learn his name was Zhang Mingshu; his family ran an industrial business, and he had recently returned to the country after finishing his studies. Seeing him, she figured he was the type who had never lifted a finger, let alone done such heavy labor, and she felt a touch of guilt. By the time the wallpaper was finished, it was nearly dark. He jumped down from the stool, clapped his hands, and looked up to survey the room with a sense of pride. "There, it’s much brighter now."

Susu said, "I’ve troubled you for half the day; let me buy you dinner." Zhang Mingshu was pleasantly surprised to hear this. He didn't stand on ceremony, simply saying, "Alright, but I get to choose the place."

As it turned out, he took her to Lower Street to eat dandan noodles. Dressed in his suit and leather shoes, he stood out in the small shop, but he didn't care in the slightest, gasping with enjoyment at the spiciness. His personality was remarkably open and magnanimous. After finishing the noodles, he walked her back. The night market in winter was desolate, with only a few small stalls at the street corner selling wontons and tangyuan. A vendor selling pinwheels was heading home with his rack on his back; only three pinwheels remained, spinning with a whirring sound in the wind—a very pleasant noise. Seeing her glance at the pinwheels, he said, "Wait a moment." He took out some change, bought all three, and handed them to her. She finally offered a faint smile. "Why buy them all?" He said, "I've already thought it out for you: plant one on the fence so you can hear it from afar, stick one on the windowsill so you can hear it inside the room, and keep one in your hand to play with."

Because no one had ever bought such childish toys for her before, she was quite happy holding them. As they walked back, the wind made the pinwheels whir, and she listened to him chatter away. She had never met someone so talkative; he could go on endlessly. He spoke about interesting experiences while studying abroad, funny mishaps at the factory, and stories about his family. It wasn't until they reached her courtyard gate that he finally stopped, looking unsatisfied, and said, "Oh, we're here already?" Then he added, "You don't have training tomorrow. I'll come to pick you up to go to the North City Corner for taro; I guarantee it’s authentic." He seemed like a coarse and careless person, yet he had unexpectedly remembered that she enjoyed eating taro during the banquet the day before.

The next day, he indeed came again. The weather had turned overcast, and he was wearing a plaid suit over his sweater. As soon as he entered, he said, "It’s going to be colder than yesterday; don't just wear a lined jacket." Yesterday, she had been wearing only a plain lined jacket, and hearing him say this, she had no choice but to take out her overcoat to wear. The two of them walked again. Though it was a long way, with someone as lively as him talking the whole journey, she didn't feel bored. When they finally reached the North City Corner, they had walked for nearly three full hours, crossing most of the city just to eat sugared taro. Susu thought about this and couldn't help but smile. He happened to look up, saw her expression, and was stunned for a moment before asking, "What are you smiling at?"

Susu said, "I am smiling because we walked so far just to eat this." He felt apologetic and said, "It’s my fault. You’ll probably have sore feet later. But if we had taken a car, we would have arrived in a moment, and then I wouldn't have been able to talk to you for so long." She hadn't expected him to be so candid and slowly lowered her head.

Seeing her reaction, he remained silent for a long while before saying, "Miss Ren, I know I am being very presumptuous, but you know that I am someone who cannot keep things inside. When I saw you last time, I understood in my heart that the wife I dream of is you, Miss Ren."

Susu’s heart was in chaos. After a long pause, she said, "You are a very good person, it is just that I am not worthy of you."

Zhang Mingshu had already anticipated she would say this, so he replied, "No, I don't have any prejudice regarding social standing, and my family is very open-minded. If it is too early to talk about this now, as long as you are willing to give me some time, I will prove to you that I am sincere."

Susu felt a sharp pain sweep through her heart; that suffocating lump lodged in her throat again. She only said in a low voice, "I am not worthy of you, Mr. Zhang. Please do not come to look for me again in the future." He looked at her blankly and asked, "Was I too rash?" Then he asked, "Are you disgusted by my mentioning my family's situation?"

No matter what he said, Susu only shook her head. He simply didn't believe that things couldn't be salvaged. He didn't look dejected in the end and said, "Then, we can at least be ordinary friends, right?" His eyes were almost pleading. Susu felt deep reluctance; she didn't nod, but she didn't shake her head either.

When she returned by rickshaw in the afternoon, she really couldn't walk anymore. When the rickshaw reached the alley entrance, she got off and said goodbye, adding, "In the future, you really shouldn't come to look for me." He didn't answer but handed her the paper bag in his hand. The sugar-roasted chestnuts in the bag were still warm. She hugged the bag and walked toward her house, seeing from afar the pinwheel stuck to the fence, whirring as if a child were crying there. She took out her keys to open the door, but it was ajar. Fearing she had forgotten to lock it, she found the room door was also ajar. She pushed it open and stepped inside. The chestnuts in the bag against her chest radiated a faint heat, but that heat instantly dissipated into the cold air. She stood there hugging the paper bag, her voice as low as a whisper, "Why are you here?"

He asked, "Where did you go?"

She hadn't noticed if a car was parked at the alley entrance. She said, "I went out with a friend."

He asked again, "What friend?”

The chestnuts were piled against her chest, pressing in so hard they made her breathless. She lowered her head and said, "You don't need to know." True to form, the single sentence provoked him into a cold sneer. "I certainly don't need to—"

She remained silent, and he stood there motionless as well. The sky grew dark, and the vast, gray twilight quietly closed in from all sides. The light gradually blurred, and his face was hidden in the shadows. Finally, she asked, "What are you here for?" This was no place for a man of his stature; someone of wealth and jade-like elegance, a man always surrounded by the admiration of the masses, a life of brilliant splendor and dazzling glory.

He didn't speak. Instead, she seemed to find courage and said, "You should go." His eyes appeared as if they might erupt with fire, but she felt oddly calm and just watched him there. He turned his face away, his voice sounding strangely weary. "You said you wanted to marry me. I accept."

Horrified and startled, she took a step back. The way he looked, it was as if he wanted to devour her, yet his eyes held an expression of extreme disgust, as if she were some monstrous scourge, as if she were the most detestable demon in the world. He kept his lips tightly pressed together, staring at her.

Extreme fear took hold of her, and she instinctively blurted out, "I don't want to marry you."

Even in the darkness, she could see the sudden sharpness in his eyes, which were as keen as a hawk's. The veins on his forehead bulged, and his breathing grew rapid, sounding like gasping. With a swing of his hand, he slapped her across the face. A buzzing sound rang in her ears, her vision went black, and she nearly fell forward. His grip tightened on her wrist, causing such bone-deep pain that it felt as if he were about to crush the bone. His voice was squeezed out from between his teeth: "Have you had enough?"

Tears fell in torrents from the pain, but he shoved her against the wall and kissed her fiercely. The force seemed less like a kiss and more like an attempt to kill her. She wept and struggled, striking his back with all her might, but he caught her wrists, rendering her strength useless, and she had no choice but to bite his lip. He finally let her go in pain, and she curled up in the corner, trembling and sobbing. He looked at her as if looking at a venomous snake. She didn't know why he hated her so much; his entire body radiated a biting, freezing hatred, as cold to the marrow as the sharp northern wind outside.

Gritting his teeth, he said, "You were playing with me. You were just playing with me." Yet, he felt a heartache for her damned tears! How could a woman like this exist, and how had he been played right in the palm of her hand, turned in circles by her whims?

She had said she wanted to marry, and he had agreed. Then, she had just as easily said she didn't want to marry. She was simply triumphant—triumphant to see him so restless and uneasy, tossing himself at her feet to be toyed with.

He turned and left.

Lei Shaogong was pacing beside the car and hurried to open the door when he saw him emerge. Seeing the look on his face, he didn't dare to ask questions and took the initiative to order the driver back to Duanshan. As soon as they entered, Murong Qingyi grabbed an ashtray and hurled it to the ground. Even after smashing the crystal ashtray to bits, he didn't feel any relief. He took a riding crop and whipped it against the wall. Seeing him strike blow after blow, Lei Shaogong watched as the wall plaster was shredded in moments, revealing the blue bricks underneath. Powder and dust flew everywhere, swirling as they fell. Murong struck harder and faster with every swing. Only the sharp, tearing sound of the whip slicing through the air could be heard, followed by the thwack against the bricks like a dull thunderbolt. Although his temper was never good, Lei Shaogong had never seen him this angry. Growing worried, he rushed forward to grab his arm, almost pleading, "Third Young Master, Third Young Master, if you continue like this, I will have to call the Madam."

His hand faltered, and finally, it dropped. The whip fell onto the carpet. His forehead was covered in sweat, yet his face held no expression at all. Lei Shaogong said anxiously, "You should go take a bath and get some sleep; you will feel better." He pressed a hand to his own sweat-drenched forehead and said hoarsely, "I must be possessed by a demon."

Lei Shaogong said, "It doesn't matter. Just sleep, and tomorrow everything will be fine."

He nodded slowly and went upstairs to bathe. When he came out, only a dim lamp was on in the room, casting the place in gloom. He pulled back the covers, and the bedding had a faint scent—something like flowers, yet not quite, and certainly not the smell of incense. The fragrance was strange yet familiar. He buried his head in the pillow, where the scent was even fainter and more elusive. He had been utterly exhausted, so he fell asleep within moments. His sleep was not entirely peaceful; waking in a daze in the middle of the night, the fragrance lingered, hovering around him as if it had seeped into his very bones. The radiator was warm, and in his drowsy state, he suddenly called out, "Susu." Everything around him was silent; in the darkness, he could only hear his own breathing. He reached out his hand to the other side of the bed where she always curled up like a child, huddled in the corner furthest from him. But his hand met only empty air, and his heart felt empty, too.

He remembered Lei Shaogong saying, "Tomorrow everything will be fine." A bone-chilling cold welled up inside him—tomorrow would not be fine; it would never be fine again.

It was the fourteenth day of the twelfth lunar month, the day the City God Temple fair began. Zhang Mingshu had intended to ask Susu to go to the fair, but unexpected guests had arrived at home, making it impossible to leave. Several cousins dragged him to play cards, so he had no choice but to sit down and keep them company. His mind was elsewhere, and he only heard his eldest cousin ask him, "I heard you put up the money to sponsor a ballet troupe. Which one is it?"

He replied, "The Yun troupe."

The eldest cousin remarked, "The Yun troupe does have one remarkably outstanding beauty. I wonder if you’ve seen her?" Hearing this, his ears burned hot for some reason. He muttered a vague response, asking, "What beauty? The girls who dance ballet are all beautiful." The eldest cousin said, "I mean the one who played Yingtai in The Butterfly Lovers a few months ago. Tsk, she is truly beautiful—even more stunning than many movie stars."

Another cousin, the fourth, laughed. "Listen to your tone; you are practically drooling. Since you're so eager, why don't you go after her?"

The eldest cousin shook his head and said, "Not many outsiders know about this, but do you know whose woman she is? You could give me ten times the courage, and I still wouldn't dare covet her."

Zhang Mingshu asked, "Does this young lady's surname happen to be Fang?" As he spoke, he put down his cards and asked, "Do you want a Five of Bamboo?" The eldest cousin quickly said, "Put it down, that completes my flush." Everyone pushed over their tiles to count the points and pay up. As they shuffled the mahjong tiles with a clattering sound, the fourth cousin said with a smile, "Mingshu’s luck is poor today; unlucky at the gambling table, perhaps because he’s lucky in love. Judging by your tone, you are quite familiar with Miss Fang?"

Before Zhang Mingshu could speak, the eldest cousin said, "I wasn't talking about Miss Fang; I was talking about a Miss surnamed Ren."

Hearing this was like a bolt of lightning to Zhang Mingshu. His hand, as he stacked the tiles, slowed down, and he stopped completely. The fourth cousin still had a playful expression. "Even someone as daring as you claims not to dare. I, for one, would like to know the background of this Miss Ren.”

The eldest cousin said, "I heard it from our family patriarch—they say she is the Third Young Master's 'forbidden fruit.' Who would dare go into the tiger's mouth to steal its prey?"

The fourth cousin asked, "Which Third Young Master? Could it be Third Young Master Murong?"

The eldest cousin replied, "Who else could it be? That Miss Ren is indeed beautiful, though it's a pity she rarely smiles. Otherwise, she would truly be a beauty capable of toppling a city."

The two of them were deep in their lively discussion, not noticing Zhang Mingshu’s expression. It was only when he stood up that the eldest cousin asked with bewilderment, "What is wrong with you? Your forehead is covered in sweat." Zhang Mingshu said, "I have a terrible headache." Seeing his face ashen, everyone chimed in, "You must have caught a chill; you look so pale. Go upstairs and get some rest." Zhang Mingshu said with great effort, "You all continue playing; I am going to lie down for a while." Then, he walked upstairs. The room was quiet, and one could hear the faint sounds of the guests laughing downstairs, children playing, and the crisp clicking of mahjong tiles. He felt as if a sharp blade were twisting in his chest, and even more, as if a hand were tearing him apart. It was a sensation that, for the first time, made him feel painfully out of control. He paced the room like a caged beast until, finally unable to bear it, he grabbed his coat and slipped out through the back door.

He didn't want his family to know he was leaving, so he walked to the street corner before hailing a rickshaw. His thoughts surged throughout the journey. Whenever he had traveled this road before, the distance felt like a long, arduous trek, and he would yearn to see her sooner. Today, however, he was suddenly afraid—afraid that the road was too short, afraid that what his cousin said was the truth. He had never been a cowardly man, but for some reason, he felt cowardly at this moment, wanting only to deceive himself.

The familiar alleyway appeared before him. He gave the rickshaw puller a dollar and saw, from a distance, that the pinwheel was still stuck to the fence outside her house. His heart felt even more agonizing, as if it were being cut by a knife. But then, he saw her emerge from the courtyard. She was not alone. In front of her walked a strange man; although he wore a Western suit, his gait suggested he was a military man. He turned to open the car door for her. The car was a new model Lincoln. She kept her head lowered, and he could not see her expression. He felt as if he had been struck a heavy blow to the chest, shattering his very vitals, as he watched the automobile speed away.

Susu looked quietly out the car window as the vehicle traversed the bustling city center and turned onto a secluded asphalt road. She finally felt a vague sense that something was wrong and asked, "Where are we going?"

The attendant who came to fetch her said, "Miss Ren, you will know when we arrive."

The scenery alongside the road was incredibly serene. Towering maple and maple-leaf viburnum trees lined the path, interspersed with elegant silk trees. The season of falling leaves had passed, leaving only the intricate patterns of the bare branches. One could imagine that in summer and autumn, the scenery must have been breathtaking. A jade-clear river meandered alongside the road, its rushing water swirling and splashing against the scattered rocks. The car traveled for a long time until, after rounding a bend, they saw a guard post. The car stopped for inspection before continuing forward. Now, the sides of the road were lined with dense pine forests, where the wind sounded like rising tides through the trees. Though Susu felt some unease, she had not imagined that there could be such an elegant and tranquil place in the suburbs of Wuchi.

The car finally came to a stop. As she stepped out, she saw a magnificent mansion nestled among the trees. Although it was an old Western-style house, the iron gates and window grilles were intricately carved and exquisite. The attendant led her through a side door. After a turn to the left, the space opened up abruptly; a Western-style grand hall stretched out before her, as deep as a temple. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystal tassels swaying slightly in the breeze from the bronze rings. Countless oil paintings of various sizes hung on the walls. To the south, a row of more than ten floor-to-ceiling windows were draped with silk curtains three or four people high. Beneath her feet, the marble floor was polished enough to reflect one’s image. Such a quiet, profound hall was as breath-taking as a museum. The attendant led her through the hall and down a corridor into a glass-roofed sunroom. It was the middle of the afternoon, and the winter sunlight felt warm. Amidst the lush flowers and trees, a person in a wicker chair set aside the English magazine in their hand. Susu felt as if she were in a dream and subconsciously whispered, "Madam."

Madam Murong, however, remained expressionless. Her gaze swept over her, and she immediately said, "Miss Ren, please sit."

A maid brought milk tea. Susu was confused by the situation, but Madam Murong said, "We have met before—Miss Ren’s ballet performance was truly beautiful." Susu said softly, "Madam, you are too kind." Madam Murong continued, "You are a girl of ice and snow, very intelligent; I like you. You must understand why I have brought you here today."

Susu’s heart filled with sudden suspicion. The person who brought her was an attendant of Murong Qingyi, and she had not known she was coming to see Madam Murong. Hearing her cold tone, she could not guess what the matter was and could only say in a low voice, "Please, Madam, speak your mind."

Madam Murong sighed lightly and said, "That child, Third Young Master, has had a stubborn temper since he was small. Once he sets his mind on something, even I, as his mother, can do nothing. But this time, no matter what, I cannot allow him to act so recklessly." Susu listened quietly, only hearing her continue: "Miss Ren, it is not that I look down on you, nor is it some prejudice regarding social standing, but for a daughter-in-law of the Murong family, every movement is scrutinized by the masses. To be honest, I fear you cannot shoulder such a heavy responsibility."

Susu raised her head in shock, her heart filled with confusion; she never expected Madam Murong to say such a thing. Just then, a maid walked over and whispered something in Madam Murong’s ear. Madam Murong remained composed and nodded. Suddenly, Susu heard the rapid sound of leather shoes approaching from the end of the corridor. The footsteps grew closer and closer, and she recognized them, subconsciously turning her head. It was indeed Murong Qingyi. As he entered, he called out, "Mother." There was an urgent, furious tone in his voice. She looked up and saw that his face was pale as he stared straight at Madam Murong. Madam Murong let out a light, indifferent laugh and asked, "What is it? Why have you come home in such a hurry, and for what matter?"

Murong Qingyi’s voice was deep, like the dull rumble of thunder before a rainstorm: "Mother, if you do anything to break my heart, you will definitely regret it." Madam Murong’s expression changed slightly, and she said, "Is that how you speak to your mother? I think you have truly lost your mind. Yesterday, when you told me you wanted to marry her, I knew you had become bewitched."

Murong Qingyi said coldly, "I know your methods—you have already lost one son. If you are not afraid of losing another, then feel free to tread the same path again."

Madam Murong’s face changed dramatically, and her body actually trembled slightly. She had always been exceedingly graceful and calm, but hearing such words from Murong Qingyi, the sudden pain and anger struck at the deepest, most painful wound in her heart. But after only a moment, she smiled composedly. "What nonsense are you spouting? I am doing this all for your own good."

Murong Qingyi said, "You thought you were doing it for the Second Brother's good as well, but what was the result?"

Madam Murong was silent for a long time before saying, "Fine. I will no longer concern myself with your affairs. You can make as much of a fool of yourself as you wish; I will act as if I never gave birth to this useless thing." By the last sentence, her voice still held a hint of sobbing. Hearing the desolation in her tone, Susu felt deeply reluctant to see her hurt. She wanted to offer words of comfort, but she was never good with words and did not know how to start. Murong Qingyi, however, cut in very quickly, saying, "Thank you, Mother, for your compliance." He grabbed Susu’s arm and said, "We will no longer disturb your peace."

Madam Murong was hurt to the extreme; her heart was in total despair. She realized that the matter was irreparable, having originally hoped to remove the foundation of the problem, never expecting her son to threaten her with his own life. Feeling heartbroken and weary, she was unwilling to say anything more and just waved her hand powerlessly, leaving them to go their own way.

Murong Qingyi grabbed Susu’s arm and did not let go until they were in the car. Susu’s mind was in total chaos, unable to make sense of anything at all. He, however, still kept that cold, icy tone: "Why did you just follow anyone who asked you to come?”

She did not know why he was so angry and said in a low voice, "It was the attendant by your side."

He repressed his fury. "There are so many people around me, yet you are so stupid? You wouldn't even know when you were being sent to your death!"

She bit her lower lip gently, as if wanting to flee from his presence. This expression often infuriated him, but for some reason, today he restrained himself, ignored her, and turned his head to look out the car window. The car fell silent. As they were about to enter the city, she could no longer endure the pain and let out a soft groan. Only then did he turn back, immediately noticing that something was wrong—her forehead was covered in a fine layer of sweat. His face changed drastically. "What is wrong?"

She shook her head and said, "I don't feel well." He grabbed her hand, two flickers of fire seemingly dancing in his eyes. "What did they feed you?" Lei Shaogong called out in alarm, "Third Young Master!" He ignored him entirely, only gripping her as if he intended to crush her. "Tell me, what did you eat just now?" The pain made her vision swim; looking out, she saw his face, which was almost twisted. Why was he asking this? She said weakly, "I haven't eaten anything—I only drank the milk tea."

He looked terrifying, like a desperate and enraged beast that had fallen into a trap. He let out a low roar, and Lei Shaogong immediately told the driver, "Turn around. Head to Jiangshan Hospital."

The car changed direction toward Jiangshan. She was in immense pain; she did not know why he was acting this way, but he hugged her tightly, his arms like iron bands, as if he wanted to force her to be embedded into his own body. She heard him gritting his teeth, a grinding sound, and he looked as though he wanted to devour someone. Lei Shaogong’s face was also incredibly grave as he said with difficulty, "Third Young Master, it cannot be." She did not understand what they meant, but fire seemed to be erupting from Murong Qingyi's eyes. He gritted his teeth and said, "I know you people. You schemed against the Second Brother, and now you come to scheme against me with practiced ease."

Lei Shaogong’s expression grew even more ominous, and he called out again, "Third Young Master." She began to break out in cold sweats, and a slight, buzzing ringing sound filled her ears. She did not understand his words, but his appearance was so truly terrifying that it filled her with dread. The car drove to Jiangshan Hospital, charging straight in and stopping in front of the emergency wing. She was nearly collapsing from the pain, and he scooped her up horizontally. Lei Shaogong rushed ahead to find a doctor.

Voices were clamoring all around them. In the noise, she only heard his heavy breathing, close to her ear, yet seeming to come from the ends of the earth. His sweat dripped down one drop at a time; even in such cold weather, his forehead was covered in beads of cold perspiration. When the doctor arrived, he still would not let go of her. Lei Shaogong urged anxiously, "Third Young Master, put Miss Ren down and let them examine her." Only then did he place her on the hospital bed. Three or four doctors crowded around to examine her, and she grabbed his sleeve weakly, as if it were the only support she had left.

He suddenly drew his sidearm and slapped it onto the medicine tray with a loud clack, causing everyone to look at him in terror. His eyes were nearly dripping blood, and his voice seemed squeezed out from between his teeth: "I am telling you, if anyone here dares to play any tricks today, and she suffers the slightest harm, I will accompany her! You decide what to do!"

She gradually began to understand. The immense pain and unprecedented terror made her dizzy. She tried hard to keep her eyes open and saw Lei Shaogong rush forward to hold Murong Qingyi’s arm, though he did not dare to seize the gun. The doctors also grew tense. She continued to clutch his sleeve, two lines of tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

He had actually said that... he would accompany her in death... The tears fell in a torrent. The pain of her body seemed to transfer into a pain of the heart. With death looming just a step away, her hand held only his sleeve—only him—and all of this was so hurried, so hurried that there was no time for anything. She dared not look at his face again; the expression on it seared her. She had never known until today, and today, everything was too late. He was like this; he wanted her even in death. It was too late. Her heartbeat became the most painful palpitation, and her vision and consciousness began to blur...

When she awoke, it was already late at night. Her right hand was held warmly in someone’s palm. She turned her face with some difficulty; he looked so haggard he seemed like a different person. Her tears rolled down in strings as she choked out, "I am fine." His voice was also hoarse. "I frightened you—the doctor said it is only acute enteritis—I was so afraid... I actually thought..."

She only shed tears in silence. The medicine from the IV drip fell drop by drop, yet each one felt like a heavy hammer striking directly at her heart. His embrace was so warm, and he kissed her gently, with such caution, as if touching the most delicate of petals. She closed her eyes in the blurred light of her tears, sinking weakly into the feeling.

Madam Murong called Lei Shaogong over, and he recounted the whole situation exactly as it had happened. Madam Murong sighed after a long silence and said, "As a mother, what purpose do I even have left?"

Lei Shaogong remained silent. Beside them, Jinrui remarked, "Looking at it this way, the Third Young Master is truly serious this time. I fear we really must let him have his way."

Madam Murong waved her hand, signaling for Lei Shaogong to leave. After being lost in thought for a long time, she said to Jinrui, "There is no choice but to let him. For the Third to be so suspicious and paranoid—thinking of it truly makes me sad."

Jinrui advised in a low voice, "He was truly bewitched, which is why he thought that way." Knowing Madam Murong did not like to mention the past, she said vaguely, "How could you, Mother, be wrong?"

Indeed, Madam Murong sighed deeply and said, "He is so determined to marry her that I fear no one can stop him. We might be fine, but I fear he will not pass the hurdle of your father so easily."

After Susu was discharged from the hospital, she recuperated for several more days. It was already the end of the twelfth lunar month. On this day, Murong Qingyi sent someone to pick her up to eat Suzhou cuisine at Yixin Ji. The upper floors of Yixin Ji were heated. As Susu entered, a waiter helped take her overcoat. She wore only a honey-colored qipao with dark, delicate floral patterns. Upon entering, she realized that besides him, there was another guest. Murong Qingyi said to her, "Greet him. This is Uncle He." She followed his instructions and addressed the man in a low voice. The man, as was customary, replied politely, "You are too kind." He sized her up for a moment and smiled at Murong Qingyi: "Third Young Master has a good eye."

Susu blushed and sat down beside Murong Qingyi. Murong Qingyi said, "Mr. He, I would rather strike the golden bell once than tap the wooden fish three thousand times. I only wish to ask for Mr. He’s guidance."

The man was none other than He Xuan, known as the "Number One Talented Official." Hearing this, he smiled slightly. "I am flattered that the Third Young Master thinks so highly of me—however, this is a slow, grinding process that requires patience. In front of you, sir, allow me to find a way slowly. In a year or two, perhaps there may be some movement."

Murong Qingyi said, "Mr. He knows my temper—I do not want to wait a year or two, nor even a year or half a year. I fear that if this matter drags on, complications will arise. Please, Mr. He, for my sake, find a way for me.”

He Xuan pondered for a moment and said, "There is one method that might succeed, but..."

Murong Qingyi hurriedly said, "Please, sir, speak your mind."

He Xuan said, "It is truly too risky; at most, there is only a thirty percent chance of success. Furthermore, the outcome is uncertain; I fear it might prove counterproductive."

Murong Qingyi, however, retorted, "To stand on the brink of death is to find life; how can one know if it won't work without taking the risk?"

He Xuan smiled slightly and said, "The Third Young Master is resolute and decisive, showing the spirit of a military family."

Murong Qingyi also smiled and said, "Enough of that, tell me what the method is."

He Xuan then said, "You must promise that you will not ask 'why' regarding the arrangements I make, and furthermore, whether it succeeds or fails, you must not reveal anything to anyone, before or after the event." Driven by his desperate desire for success, Murong Qingyi said, "Everything will be as you wish, sir."

He Xuan thought for a moment before saying, "Tomorrow is the twenty-seventh day of the twelfth lunar month. Your father is going to Qinghu."

The Qinghu official residence was situated beside the Scenic River, leaning against the mountains and facing the water, overlooking the jade-green expanse of Qinghu Lake. The setting was exceptionally tranquil. Murong Feng had a habit of taking a walk after meals; he followed the winding stone path down to the foot of the hill. Just then, a breeze blew, and in the plum orchard at the base of the hill, rows of plum blossoms bloomed sparsely and elegantly, their faint, hidden fragrance stealing through the air. The attendants all followed from a distance. As he paced slowly with his hands behind his back, he caught sight of a pale cyan figure standing beneath a plum tree, wearing an old-fashioned, long qipao, slender and graceful as a branch of green-calyx plum blossoms. The wind blew, brushing against the hair on her forehead, revealing eyes as clear as autumn water. Two tiny emerald butterfly pendants on her ears brushed softly against her collar.

He froze in a daze, as if caught in a nightmare, murmuring like a sleepwalker, "It is you—"

Murong Qingyi stepped forward from behind him and said, "Father, this is Susu."

He glanced at his son. Murong Qingyi saw that there was a hint of confusion in his father's eyes, mixed with a strange expression, one so complex that he could not decipher it—it looked like anger, yet not quite; for a fleeting moment, his gaze even seemed pained. Remembering He Xuan's instructions, Murong Qingyi only said, "I beg for your blessing, Father."

Murong Feng watched him expressionlessly, remaining silent for a long time. Murong Qingyi felt a sense of dread but did not dare to make a sound. After what felt like an eternity, he heard Murong Feng let out a long sigh and say, "Marriage is a major life event, not child's play. Have you truly considered this?"

Murong Qingyi was overjoyed but still held his composure, dutifully replying, "I have."

Murong Feng nodded slowly. Murong Qingyi had not expected to gain his father's consent so easily. Overwhelmed with joy, he took Susu’s hand and beamed, "Thank you, Father."

That uncontrollable joy felt as though the plum blossoms throughout the entire garden were all blooming in unison, exhaling their fragrance. It felt as if the sky and earth had suddenly opened wide, making him want to leap into the highest azure heavens; it was a joy so full, so overflowing from his heart, that it seemed to fill the entire world.