---

Chapter 51 — Regret

“Xie Zhuoguang, don’t make me look down on you.”

When Yu Mingyao returned to her room bearing traces of her earlier encounter, Yanyue was in the midst of making the bed.

She wore a long robe and skirt, with a cloak draped over her shoulders for cover.

Although nothing as she’d imagined had actually happened between her and Pei Shang in the end, the fact remained that Pei Shang had kissed her shoulder and her neck.

Yu Mingyao did not feel ashamed. Intimacy between lovers was a joy of the mortal world.

But constrained by propriety, she still couldn’t afford to be too unrestrained.

She and Yanyue shared a room. She slept on the inner bed, while Yanyue took the outer bed near the curtains.

During the day, to make it easier to come and go, the outer bed had to be folded and moved aside to not block those entering the room.

As Yu Mingyao walked silently to sit before her dressing table, Yanyue, as usual, busied herself deftly with the bedding.

When she turned her head, she caught sight of Yu Mingyao’s forlorn expression, her elegant brows faintly furrowed. Ever since returning, she had looked like someone who’d lost her soul.

Yanyue glanced at her briefly before turning her gaze back and continuing her work.

“Isn’t it funny?” Yanyue said suddenly. “I just ran into Young Master. He told me that while strolling on the first deck today, he saw a familiar figure. It looked like Cheng Qing, the one always following the Heir Xie.”

“How could that be Cheng Qing?” Yu Mingyao responded lightly. “The Heir Xie isn’t from Suzhou. Besides, why would he idly run around—he wouldn’t possibly…”

Yanyue’s words trailed off as something occurred to her. She glanced toward Yu Mingyao.

Yu Mingyao shot her a faint glance, then let out a long sigh.

“Miss…” Yanyue called out hesitantly.

Yu Mingyao took in her maid’s hesitant expression, but she had no strength left to explain or argue.

Her face, usually bright and charming, now looked like a half-wilted flower mottled with yellow spots — fragile and lifeless.

Her voice sank low. “Have someone bring water for a bath. I want to sit quietly for a while.”

“…Yes.”

After the words fell, Yanyue lifted her gaze and cautiously glanced at her again.

Even as the warm water soaked her entire body, Yu Mingyao couldn’t shake off the chill that seeped from her bones.

She had noticed Pei Shang’s unusual behavior. Coupled with Yanyue’s casual comment just now, how could she not realize the true reason for Pei Shang’s sudden strangeness?

He had never been the kind of frivolous man who would take advantage of others, nor someone who would use petty tricks to annoy strangers. He always appeared carefree, but deep down he had a clear sense of right and wrong.

For him to suddenly behave like that — there was only one explanation.

He had guessed that the one constantly disturbing them in the next cabin wasn’t some stranger — it was Xie Zhuoguang.

But… how could it be Xie Zhuoguang?

Wasn’t he supposed to have completely lost his memory, holding nothing but disdain and disgust for her?

For a woman so unlike his ideal virtuous wife — frivolous and wayward — would he really go to such lengths, secretly trailing her for thousands of miles? Was it necessary?

At that moment, Yu Mingyao truly didn’t understand.

After her bath, Yanyue oversaw the servants carrying away the tub.

Once everyone left and the door was closed, Yanyue still seemed hesitant, her words caught in her throat. Yu Mingyao knew she had something to say.

“Earlier…” Yanyue began, then faltered.

“Earlier what?” Yu Mingyao asked, brushing her hair before the mirror.

Yanyue’s gaze flickered. After hesitating for a long moment, she finally spoke: “Earlier, Brother Cheng Qing told me that the Heir Xie wants to meet you at the deck at the hour of Hai (around 9–11 p.m.). He says he has something to tell you.”

Yu Mingyao’s hand froze mid-stroke. Her face darkened uncontrollably.

A wave of restless frustration surged in her chest, and she let out a cold smile.

“Who does Xie Zhuoguang think he is? Just because he tells me to go, I have to go? And you—” she turned to Yanyue — “this isn’t the first time. You’ve relayed messages for Cheng Qing again and again. I understand you owe him a debt of gratitude. But could you also consider my feelings?”

“That man… I really don’t want to see him again.”

She placed her comb back on the dressing table, her brows and eyes heavy with sorrow.

Seeing this, Yanyue wanted to explain. Her lips moved twice, but in the end, she couldn’t say a word.

Room No. 12, Xuan deck

Cheng Qing stood beside the table, a dark expression clouding his face.

His usually noble master had never set foot in such a shabby place, yet now he sat directly on a low stool, who knows how many people had sat on it before. Not only had he not wiped it clean, but he even leisurely sipped the aged tea from the old teapot as though tasting fine Longjing tea.

Time ticked by.

Finally, after who knows how long, the man who had been sitting quietly, holding the teacup, spoke in a soft voice. “Still no word from her?”

Cheng Qing truly didn’t understand. The Heir wasn’t far from Miss Yu — it was just a short walk away. Why insist on relaying the message through him, even involving Yanyue?

His puzzlement was written all over his face. Xie Zhuoguang glanced at him but said no more, still sitting motionless as though he could wait forever.

Cheng Qing grew anxious. They weren’t short of rooms — why linger here?

At last, just when he could bear it no longer, Xie Zhuoguang moved. He rose and walked to the window.

The Xuan deck rooms couldn’t compare to the Tian deck ones. Never mind the size or furnishings — even the windows were different. One offered a grand view; the other barely qualified as a ventilation slit.

Yet even so, Xie Zhuoguang stood silently at that tiny opening, lost in thought for a long, long time.

Cheng Qing’s legs grew numb from standing. Warmth faded into chill sinking into his bones — still, Xie Zhuoguang made no move to leave.

Seeing this, Cheng Qing simply gave up urging him. He dragged over the only low stool and sat down with a look of readiness for a long conversation.

“My lord, you know I’m clumsy with words. But if there’s something you want to say tonight, feel free. I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”

Xie Zhuoguang merely cast him a cold glance, his gaze weary.

His long lashes, under the dim candlelight, cast shadows across his face.

His lips pressed tight, the corners of his mouth pulled sharply downward — unmistakable displeasure.

But then again — who in life truly lived in ease and comfort?

Cheng Qing sighed deeply. He truly wanted to persuade Xie Zhuoguang to let it go. After all, Pei Shang and Yu Mingyao were devoted to each other, a talented man and beautiful woman, already formally betrothed.

To break up such a marriage would surely invite heaven’s wrath.

These words, however, he couldn’t say aloud when he saw Xie Zhuoguang’s tightly pressed lips.

Cheng Qing found it hard to endure — but so did Xie Zhuoguang. In the vast world, he suddenly felt a profound, rootless loneliness.

Since he had married and established a home, such feelings had been rare. After marrying his wife, his once-cold Jizhuxuan had grown warm with life.

Her warm Jade Pavilion reflected his presence everywhere.

In their seven years of marriage in the previous life, those were the happiest, most carefree years of Xie Zhuoguang’s life.

He had a loving wife who cherished him, who held him in her heart, and a kind and easy-going in-law family.

Xie Zhuoguang didn’t understand — it was just a child. Why had it shattered all the happiness they once had?

Was offspring truly that important?

Since ancient times, men seemed to marry mostly for the sake of lineage. But this filthy, selfish, and indifferent bloodline — what was worth passing down?

He didn’t understand.

As the Hai-hour bell rang, Xie Zhuoguang still hadn’t heard any movement outside the room.

His half-lowered eyelids trembled, and after a long while, settled back into calm.

“…My lord, aren’t you going to wait a bit longer?”

With no figure in sight for a long time, the cool, jade-like voice finally answered:

“No need.”

He stepped out into the ship’s corridor. The vessel had four decks in total — Xuan deck was on the second. He passed various cabin doors: some snored thunderously, some ground their teeth and muttered in dreams, some huddled together playing dice and laughing loudly, some couples flirted boldly…

Yet there was neither the voice he longed to hear, nor the person he longed to see.

The biting chill of winter worsened in the Hai hour, the cold cutting like knives. But no night chill could match the cold in his heart.

If she were here, she would never let him freeze like this. She would grumble but still fetch the cloak she had made by hand to drape over him, her soft, warm hands feeling for his temperature.

She would ask if he was hungry, if he was warm enough.

She was so perceptive she could instantly see whether he was happy or not.

Such a good wife — he had lost her.

His long-lowered eyes shimmered with moisture. Xie Zhuoguang’s heart, like the howling wind outside the deck, had no road forward and no way back.

Like a wandering soul, he drifted aimlessly toward Room No. 5, Tian deck.

Just as he neared the end of the fourth deck, a figure appeared before him, blocking his path.

—It was a woman.

Xie Zhuoguang looked up, following the soft white hibiscus satin cloak upwards. The embroidery was Suzhou style — exactly her favorite pattern.

His heart, suddenly, felt like a flower blooming after spring rain.

But that flower withered instantly when he saw Yu Mingyao’s expressionless face.

“If you have something to say, say it.”

She didn’t even waste an extra word.

Although Yu Mingyao showed no overt impatience and even looked faintly indifferent, as someone who had shared a bed with her for years, as the person closest to her in this world — how could he not know…

Where there is no hatred, there is no love.

Where there is no resentment, there is no affection.

His thin frame, beneath his light robe, convulsed sharply as he realized this, his chest tightening as if crushed by a boulder, suffocating him.

This rare vulnerability fell into Yu Mingyao’s eyes, and she merely thought him pretentious.

“Whether there’s something or not, this will be the last time.”

She looked coldly at Xie Zhuoguang. “Whatever you think, I am already Pei Shang’s wife. Xie Zhuoguang,” she called his name, “if you still have a shred of decency, you should know coveting a friend’s wife is the most despicable act.”

“Xie Zhuoguang, don’t make me look down on you.”

The wind whistling past her ear carried those light words away without a trace. But to Xie Zhuoguang, it was like a resounding bell, striking him heavily.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Without thinking, he called after her retreating figure:

“What if I said I remember?”

Mingyao, would you hate me?

But before he could say all he wanted to say, Yu Mingyao’s cold voice cut through the air—

“So what?”

Yes — so what?

Xie Zhuoguang’s ever-straight-as-bamboo posture finally broke.

He was guilty. Toward her, he was truly guilty.

A few feet away, Pei Shang leaned close against a cabin door, his body lowered and gaze half-lidded, revealing a smile half mocking, half cold.

This dearest friend of his was indeed just as heartless as he’d thought. Fortunately…

The woman he loved still carried him in her heart.

---