Chapter 21

After a night of consideration, Lan Yi decided not to go through Jian Su and instead meet Yang Wen Xu herself.

It wasn’t because she still harbored any lingering feelings for him, but rather a rather unkind mentality—like wearing brocade at night, flaunting her newfound status where it would be seen.

If possible, she would have even been interested in meeting Master Yang.

Lan Yi realized that while she had come back to life, her heart had not. The resentment and bitterness in her chest had faded, but what remained was not peace—just emptiness.

This made her feel no regret for her actions, no fear about meeting Yang Wen Xu, and she didn’t even take Prince Yi—whose motives were unclear, whose methods were overbearing, and whose relationship with her was awkward—seriously.

Though he was imposing and intimidating, and she was no exception to feeling a bit daunted, she could overcome it with some effort.

The maids were still terrified of him.

During a lull in the morning while waiting, Cui Cui asked her for the secret to overcoming that fear.

Lan Yi paused before answering, “His Highness is just a man, after all.”

This was an excuse—the real reason couldn’t be spoken aloud. Though her rebirth had changed some things, it shouldn’t affect the grand scheme of the world. That future upheaval would still happen sooner or later.

As the mistress and maid chatted idly, word came from outside: Yang Wen Xu had arrived.

Lan Yi was carried to meet him. Prince Yi’s Residence was too large, and her body wasn’t yet strong enough for her to walk to the reception hall.

Upon arriving, Lan Yi found it to be a rather bizarre marital reunion.

Aside from Cui Cui, the two palace maids, Jian Su and Bao Pu, had also followed, standing behind her—ostensibly to serve, but effectively acting as guards.

Outside the reception hall were four more guards, standing in two rows, motionless and staring straight ahead, yet their presence was overwhelming.

Lan Yi: “…”

Something felt off.

Yang Wen Xu was a scholar, the type who valued dignity above all. Was there really any fear that he might lose control and do something violent?

Even if he did, it had nothing to do with Prince Yi. True, this was Prince Yi’s territory, but in name, she and Yang Wen Xu were still husband and wife. Between the two of them, Prince Yi was the outsider.

Prince Yi himself didn’t seem to realize this. He had claimed his territory—and her along with it.

Lan Yi had never considered this angle before. Though something had happened between her and Prince Yi, as she had told Cui Cui, she truly regarded it as a misunderstanding. At her age, and in her condition, she should have nothing to do with worldly romance.

And given Prince Yi’s status and refinement, even if he had such inclinations, they would never extend to someone like her.

Lan Yi suspected her expression wasn’t very pleasant, but fortunately, she noticed Yang Wen Xu’s face looked even worse.

Not just unpleasant—haggard.

During Lan Yi’s convalescence, the Yang family had been plagued by one misfortune after another. He had struggled to hold on until the end, only to face the greatest upheaval of all.

Prince Yi’s men had brought the marriage contract between him and the youngest daughter of the Zhao family, demanding that he go to Prince Yi’s Residence to divorce Lan Yi.

It was utterly absurd!

Yang Wen Xu’s mind buzzed, his sleepless nights leaving him with no one to blame: his father was now bedridden, mouth twisted and eyes askew, unable to speak, with doctors uncertain how much he might recover; Consort Jiang, following his orders, had taken the blame and been exiled to the countryside—even if she were summoned back, further punishment would be pointless; Master Zhao, realizing his blunder, had thrown his lot in with Prince Yi’s Residence…

He was trapped in despair.

He had been having a very rough time lately.

Lan Yi had reached a conclusion.  

This was good.  

She felt at ease now. The suffering had been worth it. Though she had grown accustomed to illness, that didn’t mean she enjoyed pain.  

Yang Wen Xu’s gaze turned toward her. He had many questions—ones that had kept him awake at night, unresolved for days. But the many eyes around them drew an invisible chasm between him and Lan Yi, preventing him from speaking his mind freely.  

All he could ask was, “What happened to you at Prince Yi’s Residence?”  

Lan Yi smiled.  

“Are you asking me?” she countered. “I don’t know. I’ve only just woken up. What did the residence tell you?”  

Yang Wen Xu lowered his voice. “They said you had passed away.”  

He hadn’t believed it, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t enter Prince Yi’s Residence, and soon after, a series of incidents befell the Yang family, leaving him no time to pursue the matter.  

“Two days ago, they said you were still alive and asked me to come—” His voice caught. For any man, these words would be difficult to utter.  

“Come back with me,” he said, stepping forward and reaching out to take her hand. “You are my wife. We’ve been married for eight years. No one can tear us apart.”  

Lan Yi’s eyes turned cold.  

There had been no eighth year for them.  

She had died at the end of the seventh.  

What survived was a heartless vengeful ghost.  

“Go back and die again?” she asked pointedly.  

Yang Wen Xu’s hand, nearly touching hers, fell limply to his side.  

Jian Su, who had been about to step forward, retreated.  

“Nothing like that will happen again!” he insisted. “Father—he won’t be allowed to make such a mistake again.”  

“A mistake?” Lan Yi repeated.  

How interesting. Master Yang had nearly poisoned her to death—a crime of murder—yet it was dismissed so lightly.  

Yang Wen Xu spoke earnestly. “Father is already bedridden, unable to eat or drink without assistance. If you return, you’ll see for yourself. He regrets it deeply.”  

“Regrets not having poisoned me to death?”  

Yang Wen Xu: “…”  

Lan Yi said no more. Arguing over this was meaningless. Master Yang had brought this upon himself—his paralysis was his punishment and retribution. Yang Wen Xu could never hold his own father accountable.  

“The marriage contract between you and the Zhao family’s daughter is in Prince Yi’s hands. Aren’t you worried if I return with you?” she asked instead.  

Yang Wen Xu didn’t hesitate. He had made up his mind before coming. “I don’t know what Prince Yi truly wants. If he intends to make it public, then let him. I, Yang Wen Xu, am not a man who would sell his wife for glory.”  

Cui Cui couldn’t help but be moved.  

Lan Yi let out a low chuckle. “Hah.”  

This was how he always was—just when her heart was on the verge of death, he would give her a sliver of hope, softening it once more, only for it to be trampled upon again later.  

If he had been an outright villain, if she had held no expectations of him at all, perhaps she wouldn’t have died of despair.  

When she had wandered the Yang household as a ghost, she had overheard the servants whispering. They all said she had been worn to death by Madam Yang and Consort Jiang. But only she knew the truth—she had died of despair.  

Despair toward Yang Wen Xu.  

“There’s no need,” she said. “It is I who wish to divorce you.”  

She watched as Yang Wen Xu’s face twisted in shock.  

How strange. After all the suffering she had endured in the Yang household, he still couldn’t believe she wanted to leave him.  

“Did Prince Yi force you into this?” Yang Wen Xu’s eyes reddened, his composure slipping. “You don’t have to be afraid. Even as a prince, he can’t act lawlessly. I’ll take him to court. The authorities will report to the imperial court, and the Imperial Clan Court and the Emperor will discipline him. He’s a depraved and shameless man who forcibly took another’s wife—”

Lan Yi couldn’t bear to listen any longer: “No one is forcing me. I simply don’t want to be with you anymore. Since you’re fond of Consort Jiang, you can spend your days with her from now on. Or if you find her status too lowly and wish to remarry a proper wife, that’s your choice too.”

“Yang Wen Xu,” she addressed him solemnly, “I’m letting you go, so you let me go too. Let us part ways and both find freedom.”

Yang Wen Xu couldn’t fathom how many layers of meaning were contained in her words. All he knew was that he couldn’t accept this.

This wasn’t why he had come.

Nor was it the outcome he desired.

He had only pretended to agree to Prince Yi’s conditions to secure this meeting. Lan Yi’s stance now felt like a slap across his face.

He had never felt such pain before.

“You’re the wife I married!” he shouted. “You’re a woman of the Yang family. You can’t marry someone else. I won’t agree to a separation!”

Jian Su and Bao Pu stepped forward simultaneously, positioning themselves protectively on either side of Lan Yi.

Lan Yi wasn’t surprised by this scene, though she was slightly startled. Prince Yi’s arrangements hadn’t been excessive after all. Perhaps men understood other men better.

Yang Wen Xu, being somewhat cultivated, quickly composed himself. “Lan Yi, come with me. If you’re angry with me, we’ll discuss it at home. What are you doing staying here? Prince Yi has ill intentions. You’ve been secluded at home and don’t know how treacherous people can be. You’ll suffer greatly.”

His words were earnest, spoken through gritted teeth. Yet not a single syllable reached Lan Yi’s heart.

Because all the suffering she’d endured in both her lifetimes had been within the Yang household.

Lan Yi had no desire to continue this entanglement.

“I knew there was poison in the medicine,” she said. “Someone had tampered with it, and I discovered it.”

As the words fell, Jian Su shot her a surprised glance.

Yang Wen Xu’s eyes widened uncontrollably.

For a moment, the meaning didn’t register. Instinctively, he asked, “What did you say?”

Lan Yi remained silent, watching him calmly.

Then Yang Wen Xu understood.

He was incredulous. “You knew, and yet you still—”

Beyond these five words, he found himself speechless. He could only stare intently at Lan Yi’s face, scrutinizing her from head to toe as if she’d suddenly become a complete stranger—someone he was meeting for the first time.

“Why?” he finally demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lan Yi replied softly, “What was there to say? The master simply had a momentary lapse of judgment.”

Yang Wen Xu was rendered speechless again. These were his own words, now thrown back at him. He’d never known her to be so sharp-tongued, nor had he imagined she possessed the resolve to drink poison!

Had she been so despairing that she sought death? Or had she calculated everything that would follow, deliberately planning to punish him? He couldn’t be sure, didn’t dare ask, yet couldn’t refrain from asking: “You hate me? Do you think I also—I didn’t! I knew nothing about this!”

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” Lan Yi said.

Not long ago, when returning to the Yang residence from Reverence Heaven Temple, she’d said these same words to Cui Cui.

Whether Yang Wen Xu believed her or was willing to stand up for her no longer mattered, because the final outcome would always be her yielding and getting hurt. She used to wonder why this was, but later understood—because she didn’t matter.

In Yang Wen Xu’s heart, her place came after so many other people and concerns. He knew she suffered, but that was all. He didn’t realize that within the mundane routines lurked blades meant to kill, each slash landing on her body—but the pain wasn’t his to bear.

“How can it not matter?” Yang Wen Xu hastily defended. “You can’t misunderstand me like this. I never intended—”

“I did,” Lan Yi cut him off. “I did it deliberately.”

She didn’t hesitate to expose her vengeful heart, unconcerned about Yang Wenxu’s potential reaction or fear of his retaliation. She sought only catharsis!

Meeting Yang Wenxu’s indescribably complex gaze, she pressed on: “If you still refuse the divorce, we’ll settle this in court. You pushed Jiang Ru forward as the scapegoat—even if that works, you know full well the penalty for a concubine murdering her mistress, and the consequences of attempting to abandon your wife to remarry.”

With a bitter laugh, utterly exhausted, she collapsed backward.

…

Yang Wenxu was “escorted” out.

Lan Yi remained conscious. After resting awhile, she received the divorce contract handwritten by Yang Wenxu.

The wording was terse and devoid of Hanlin Scholar’s literary flourish: “Now acknowledging irreconcilable differences with Lu Shi Lanyi, with frequent discord causing mutual distress and inability to share life’s fortunes, we hereby announce our separation before relatives and witnesses.”

Below was Yang Wenxu’s signature and seal—no well-wishes about “parting amicably to seek individual happiness.”

Lan Yi read it through.

Perfect. She was thoroughly satisfied.

Whether Yang Wenxu found peace mattered not—she had attained hers.

Author’s Note:

The divorce contract draws inspiration from historical models.

Next chapter at 9 pm~