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Chapter 46: Marriage
Pei Shang is a very good person; she would always have… him in her heart.

Jizhuxuan had been reached. Cheng Qing quietly closed the door and tactfully withdrew.

In the vast room, only she and Xie Zhuoguang were left.

Perhaps because they were all men of stature, and the situation was urgent, no one had cared about trivial matters like opening the windows to let in fresh air. The carved wooden window behind the qin, with its sky-blue gauze, had gathered a thin layer of dust—no one had opened the windows or wiped it clean.

The drapes were the same. Two or three thick layers of linen and light gauze hung naturally, blocking out all light completely.

From the moment she entered, the dim and suffocating atmosphere had pressed in on her. The heavy medicinal scent lingered at her nose and wouldn’t dissipate; it had almost become ingrained.

Yu Mingyao did not hurry toward the pearwood bed where the person lay.

She raised her hand and first pushed open the windows, letting in the fresh air from outside. Then she drew the heavy drapes to both sides, leaving only a thin layer of gauze. Only then did she lift her gaze and quietly take in this familiar yet strangely unfamiliar room.

It was too cold and lonely here—vastly different from the Jizhuxuan in her memories.

At the entrance, there should have been a clothes rack carved with magnolia flowers, and next to it an ink-painted screen. By the window had been an especially comfortable beauty couch, its cushions filled with golden silk cotton tributed from foreign lands.

Even the outer covers had been exquisite—green bamboo twining with magnolias, occasionally adorned with snowy mountain breezes.

Back then, whenever she came, she would naturally take off her cloak and hang it on the rack. Sometimes she would lounge lazily on the beauty couch, flipping through Xie Zhuoguang’s books.

She would ponder his thoughts and imitate his handwriting.

When he returned, Xie Zhuoguang would always be calm and composed as well. Then she would undo his robes and hand him his casual clothes.

Though she hadn’t come here often—only twice in the early days of their marriage, and later more often he visited her in Nüanyu Pavilion—the layout of Jizhuxuan in her memory had never been this sparse.

Now, there wasn’t a single extra decoration in the room—only a qin placed by the window, a sandalwood bookshelf full of books beside it.

In front of the bookshelf was a writing desk. There was also a folding screen placed at the curtain partition.

Even for wealthy families, they would not let their children’s room be this cold and bare—it was almost unseemly.

Recalling how Xie Zhuoguang and Xie Fu had similarly stubborn tempers, Yu Mingyao furrowed her brow, shook her head, and let out a long sigh.

She lifted the azure gauze curtain and slowly walked toward the person lying motionless on the pearwood bed.

Even from several yards away, his pale, withered face came into view.

The last time they met, he had been wearing a crane-blue robe, graceful and poised, and even when he uttered harsh words, he had been unflinching. Yet after just over half a month, the vitality in him seemed to have drained away like sand slipping through fingers.

Her movements weren’t exactly light, yet he still lay there with eyes closed, as if he would never open them again.

At that thought, an overwhelming wave of sorrow surged in Yu Mingyao’s heart. She covered her mouth, unable to contain her grief, her sobs nearly choking her.

Scalding tears rolled down her cheeks. Trembling, she reached out and touched Xie Zhuoguang’s dry, cracked lips.

Wasn’t he supposed to have a high fever? Why was he so cold?

Cold—just like her elder brother who had once fallen into an endless sleep!

A deep panic rose like crashing waves, engulfing her whole body.

She desperately tried to steady her trembling hand to check his breathing.

None. No movement…

Yu Mingyao collapsed to the ground. Golden stars flickered before her eyes.

She tried to call Cheng Qing, but her throat had gone hoarse. Her lips only moved silently; no sound came out.

When she looked up again, at some point Xie Zhuoguang had opened his eyes, quietly, gently, and sorrowfully gazing at her.

The corners of his lips moved slightly.
“Yao-niang, you’ve come to see me.”

“You called me what? Yao-niang?”

A heavy blow landed in her chest.

The sudden surge of joy and fear drained all her strength. She could barely remain upright, having to forcefully prop herself up with her hands to avoid collapsing outright.

She didn’t want to worry him.

“Come up here, Yao-niang. Sit closer.”

Xie Zhuoguang’s voice was gentler and more tender than Yu Mingyao had ever heard—like a clear lake, long still, finally rippling golden in the warm sun.

She didn’t know where the strength came from, but she forced her weak body up and sat by his side. She tucked the blanket snugly around him before taking the hand he struggled to stretch out.

“I’m here, Liu-lang. Yao-niang is here.”

Her voice dropped low, faintly choked, fragmented and unsteady.

“Don’t cry.”

He reached out to touch the corner of her eye, but after lifting his hand only a few inches, it dropped heavily back down.

Yu Mingyao quickly grabbed his hand, pressing his cold, jade-like fingers to her cheek. Then, as if thinking of something, she released it and breathed warm air onto his hand.

Only then did she press it back against her face.

An unprecedented tenderness overflowed from Xie Zhuoguang’s dark eyes. His gaze upon her was filled with sorrow.

“I’ve never dared ask you—do you truly hate me? Back then, when Jinnian wanted to enlist in the army, I actually already knew. I couldn’t stop him.”

“He made me swear to keep it secret. I thought, since he was going to my maternal family’s territory, I sent word to have my trusted men watch over him. After a year or two, if he wanted to return, he could.”

“At that time, he would have honor and accomplishment. As a man, he wouldn’t always feel guilty toward you. Then, our family could live peacefully and happily together.”

In the quiet room, his low, gentle voice lingered with boundless sorrow.

A tear slid from his still, lake-like eyes, trailing down his wilted, raven-feather lashes.

A soft sigh echoed in the silent room—one couldn’t tell whose it was.

Yu Mingyao’s gaze fell to their intertwined fingers.

Xie Zhuoguang’s hand in hers was still so cold. She tried to warm it, but in doing so, even her own heat seemed to drain away, the chill spreading through her bones and limbs.

She felt as if all the blood in her body had cooled.

After releasing his hand, she gently placed it back under the blanket.

Without looking at his expression, Yu Mingyao slowly leaned down and pressed a kiss to his dry, cracked lips.

Then, as Xie Zhuoguang slightly parted his lips in response, she slipped her tongue inside, slowly drawing out the bitterness of the medicine in his mouth, letting her wet warmth intertwine with his coldness.

For a couple long familiar with kissing, such bodily closeness was as natural as breathing—without unnecessary imaginings.

She gently suckled his tongue, swallowing every trace of his bitter saliva, not leaving a single corner untouched.

Only when his mouth was filled entirely with her taste did she let go of him.

His face, previously pale and lifeless, now flushed with red from the exertion of breath.

She lifted his chin with one hand and, as if nothing had happened, lightly stroked his heaving chest to guide his breathing.

When Xie Zhuoguang’s eyes brightened and his body calmed down, Yu Mingyao finally met his gaze.

Some people, even when sick, were still beautiful.

His hair was unbound, long tresses falling freely. Two cool, black locks clung playfully at his temple, making his sickly frailty resemble that of a “sick beauty” (like Xi Shi).

His once refined face gained a hint of delicate charm.

Yu Mingyao used her fingernail to toy with those two locks for a while before leaning close to his ear with sparkling eyes.

“If you die, I won’t keep widowhood for you. You still remember Pei Shang, don’t you? Yao-niang isn’t joking with you. Once you’re dead, I’ll surely marry him.”

“You always envied and resented him, didn’t you? After I marry him, I’ll bring my mother’s dowry and share bliss with him. I’ll bear many children.”

“You couldn’t give me an heir, but he is so vigorous—he’ll definitely make my belly round again and again.”

“Yao-niang is a heartless person—you’ve known that from the start, haven’t you? But don’t worry. When Qingming comes, I’ll take the children to visit your grave. Since you dislike Pei Shang, I won’t let him come along. Anyway, I’ll be with him every day, till our hair turns white.”

The moment these words fell, the previously calm Xie Zhuoguang suddenly struggled to breathe. A breath clogged in his chest. After a long spell of dry coughing and heaving, a mouthful of black blood burst from his lips.

Yu Mingyao’s dress was stained with splatters of blood.

Cheng Qing, who had likely been waiting nearby, immediately knocked and rushed in without waiting for her permission upon hearing the commotion.

When he approached the bed, he saw Yu Mingyao calmly pulling out a bamboo-embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve and slowly wiping away the blackish blood at Xie Zhuoguang’s lips.

Cheng Qing remembered the imperial physician had once said that if the stagnant blood was expelled, there might still be hope.

Overjoyed at this thought, he quickly turned to fetch a token to summon the doctor.

“Wait a moment.”

Yu Mingyao’s weary voice stopped him in his tracks.

He saw her stuff the bloodied handkerchief into Xie Zhuoguang’s hand and coolly say, “If he asks later, just tell him I came. Nothing more.”

That pair of cold, emotionless eyes—just like Xie Zhuoguang’s—pierced straight into him.

Unconsciously, Cheng Qing lowered his head and agreed obediently, just as he would in front of Xie Zhuoguang.

Even after Yu Mingyao had left for a while, Cheng Qing still couldn’t understand why both of them were like this. Clearly, they cared for each other deeply, yet neither was willing to speak it aloud, nor let others mention it.

Under the vast sky, seated in the carriage from the Duke Xie’s residence, she felt a long-missed peace and calm.

She wasn’t in Xie Zhuoguang’s usual carriage but rather one Jizhuxuan used to send off guests. It bore no marks of the Duke Xie’s residence.

Aside from Pei Shang, Xie Zhuoguang had few other social ties.

Pei Shang rarely came to Xie Zhuoguang’s, and even if he did, he would either ride horseback, share a carriage with Xie Zhuoguang, or use his own family’s carriage.

He was a man who loved luxury, so naturally his carriage was lavishly decorated, its expenses drawn from the Pei family’s private accounts.

Madam Zhen, generous in managing money, would never have let her only son suffer in material things.

In her past life…

At this thought, Yu Mingyao’s mind drifted.

Because of what happened in the Pei residence, rumors spread wildly, and she had no ability to suppress them.

At that time, all she could do was shut herself away, blocking her ears and refusing to hear or think about it.

She had been filled with fear, uncertain of the future.

Xie Zhuoguang could have married her—or not. Either way, in such matters, it was always the woman who suffered. For men, it was nothing more than a fleeting affair.

He came to propose three days later—alone.

Back then, her grandmother and brother gave him a hard time, but he bore it all, arranging every detail of the wedding and dowry meticulously.

She married in haste, and many things couldn’t be prepared in time—especially shops and farmland for the dowry, which were in Suzhou and couldn’t be gathered in just two months without causing others to mock them.

Xie Zhuoguang gave her a wedding so grand that no one could find fault.

A bridal procession of ten miles, a story admired throughout the city—so splendid that the noblewomen of the capital only envied her, and no trace of past rumors remained.

As the daughter of the General of Zhenxi, her dowry was naturally astonishingly rich. From the beginning, he gave it all to her—after that, husband and wife were one, with no division between personal and shared property.

That was why, just now, she had said she would take her mother’s dowry and marry Pei Shang.

A single tear slowly slid down from the corner of her eye. She reached into her sleeve to search for a long while, only to realize the handkerchief she usually used had been given to Xie Zhuoguang earlier.

Never mind. As husband and wife, that was her final tenderness to him.

If he truly died, she really would marry Pei Shang and live out her life well with him.

Pei Shang was a very good person. She would always have him… in her heart.

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