Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him.
“Were you there that day too?” she asked, a little surprised.
Duke Jin’an rested his hands behind his neck, leaning back onto the cushion. A slight smile played on his lips as he gazed up at the carriage roof, as though his eyes could see right through it.
“There were many people, and the procession moved slowly. I couldn’t hear the zither clearly, nor could I make out much. But when the writing began, I heard the recitation of poetry. I couldn’t get up, though, so I didn’t see the characters.” Instead of answering her question directly, he spoke these words, then suddenly sat upright. “But I did see the fireworks.”
The evening light inside the carriage was dim, which made his eyes appear even brighter.
“They filled the sky – truly beautiful,” he said. “I never imagined fireworks could shine so brilliantly in colors even during the daytime.”
“Where were you?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
There were carriage curtains, and he had heard the zither, knew about the writing, and had listened to the poetry recitation. He must have been on the same street at the same time as they were.
“I’ve said it before – this is the most important thing to me, the one I care about most, and I didn’t want to miss it,” said Duke Jin’an as he lay back down, gazing up at the carriage roof as if transported back to that day. “I had my attendants carry me into the carriage and leave the house, waiting right on this street. When your procession arrived, the carriage was driven out. I lay inside – the roof had a cloth cover that was slowly drawn back, so I could see outside without having to sit up.”
He chuckled softly as he spoke.
“You were sitting then, weren’t you? And you couldn’t see outside either.”
So that was how it was, Cheng Jiao-niang thought as she looked at him.
“That’s right, I didn’t actually see it,” she said with a faint smile. “Was it beautiful?”
Duke Jin’an looked at her and nodded.
“Beautiful,” he replied.
The carriage interior wasn’t large. He was lying down, she was sitting – less than half an arm’s length apart. The familiar, subtle fragrance had long since filled the space inside. Now, as Cheng Jiao-niang turned her head to smile at him, something stirred impulsively within him.
“Lying down, the fireworks look even better,” he said, reaching out a hand to gently tug at her sleeve. “Try it.”
Caught off guard, Cheng Jiao-niang was tugged sideways, her arm bumping against his chest.
A pained groan escaped from inside the carriage.
“Your Highness?” Eunuch Jing, who was seated at the front of the carriage, immediately turned and asked, hastily lifting the curtain and pushing open the carriage door.
Inside, Cheng Jiao-niang was half-leaning over Duke Jin’an, her hands pulling open his robes and exposing his chest.
Good heavens! Eunuch Jing thumped the carriage door shut and swiftly lowered the curtain, his face flushing red.
How… how… could they not even wait a little longer?
Eunuch Jing gazed into the distance where the Duke’s residence was already faintly visible. If they entered the residence now and interrupted their… mood…
It had only been three days and two nights, and His Highness already didn’t need to take medicine anymore. If there were a few more times like this, he would surely be bursting with energy.
At this thought, Eunuch Jing gritted his teeth. Let it be improper then – those are just appearances for others to see. What truly matters is His Highness’s health.
“Someone!” he beckoned, whispering to a guard on horseback nearby.
The guard quickly drew closer. After listening to Eunuch Jing’s soft instructions, though looking slightly surprised, he still accepted the orders.
Cheng Jiao-niang sat upright and carefully closed Duke Jin’an’s robes.
“It’s bruised,” she said.
“Then does this count as having the same effect as the evening treatment?” Duke Jin’an asked through gritted teeth.
“It doesn’t,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Duke Jin’an let out a soft groan.
“So it was all for nothing,” he said.
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him. The young man was smiling, revealing teeth that were once fine and white but had now taken on a dull gray hue – a lasting mark left by the poison on his body.
Yes, how could what had happened ever be forgotten? It was a clear, unmistakable, and deeply felt pain.
Forget it, forget it. It would be best to forget.
How could that be possible?
Yang Shan – it’s simply impossible!
She reached out and gently touched Duke Jin’an’s face.
Duke Jin’an froze instantly.
“Not for nothing. Sometimes a short, sharp pain is better than a long, lingering one,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, lightly patting his cheek. “It won’t hurt anymore from now on.”
Her palm was soft, with a faint, subtle roughness of thin calluses, brushing against his face like a mother cradling him in her arms when he was a child.
“…Cong-lang, don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid, it won’t hurt, it won’t hurt…”
That distant, almost forgotten memory surged up in an instant. Duke Jin’an felt his eyes sting. Abruptly, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Cheng Jiao-niang’s waist, burying his face against her back.
“Cheng Fang,” he called out.
Cheng Jiao-niang stiffened slightly, hesitated for a moment, then withdrew the hand she had been about to use to push him away.
“I’m sorry,” Duke Jin’an’s voice came from behind her, muffled. “I’m sorry for still bringing harm upon you.”
…
Su Xin lifted the carriage curtain and frowned.
“Why haven’t we arrived yet?” she asked.
Weren’t they taking the shortcut?
She had traveled that shortcut before. Even with the crowds on the wedding day, it only took an hour – and normally it wouldn’t even take half an hour. Why did it feel longer today than it had on the wedding day?
As she took in the surroundings, Su Xin’s expression turned surprised.
“What’s this…”
“What’s wrong?” Ban Qin also leaned out to ask, finding the environment unfamiliar.
“What are they doing? This isn’t the Duke’s residence,” Su Xin said, looking ahead.
The procession in front and behind had already dispersed, leaving only a dozen or so guards spread out. Duke Jin’an’s carriage moved slowly ahead.
“This is the Duke’s residence,” Ban Qin suddenly said, pointing toward the wall by the roadside. “It looks like the wall of the residence’s backyard.”
The backyard wall of the Duke’s residence?
Su Xin looked over – indeed, it seemed somewhat familiar. They weren’t yet very acquainted with the interior of the residence, but as for the outside, Su Xin often traveled around the capital and was familiar with every nook and cranny.
This was indeed the backyard wall of the Duke’s residence.
So where were they heading?
“We were told to follow, not where we’re going,” the carriage driver whispered. “For now, we’re circling the Duke’s residence.”
Circling the Duke’s residence?
Su Xin and Ban Qin exchanged a glance, then looked toward the carriage ahead.
What was going on?
…
“I can’t remember much of what happened after the poisoning. It was like being awake, yet also like drifting in a haze. I remember them carrying me to you, only to find you weren’t there. I wanted to wait, but you weren’t there…”
Duke Jin’an spoke, his arms tightening unconsciously around Cheng Jiao-niang’s waist. His fingers shifted, as if instinctively trying to grasp something, only to realize his hands were empty.
“After that, I kept drifting in and out of sleep. I thought for sure I was going to die this time. But I never expected to wake up again, and to hear… that something had happened to Cheng Si-lang…”
Cheng Si–lang was dead. That Cheng Si–lang – the only one in the Cheng family who had genuinely treated her with kindness.
He was actually dead, and worse, he had died right before her eyes!
What could she… possibly do… How much pain must she have been in…
He didn’t even dare to imagine it. Just the thought alone made his heart ache so much he could hardly breathe.
“Cheng Fang, I’m sorry.”
Duke Jin’an lifted his head, his gaze resting on the girl’s neck – smooth and upright, always poised and steady no matter the situation.
“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been targeted like this.”
“If you put it that way, then this matter should still be blamed on me,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, tilting her head slightly.
Duke Jin’an could see her profile – the high bridge of her nose, the long, slightly fluttering lashes that curved downward.
“If I didn’t know medicine, if I hadn’t declared that rule of ‘treating only those at death’s door,’ I wouldn’t have been targeted like this. My brother wouldn’t have died either,” she said.
Duke Jin’an looked at her.
“Cheng Fang, I’m sorry,” he said. “I spoke wrongly.”
Cheng Jiao-niang turned her head slightly to look at him.
It seemed as though she was waiting to hear where he had gone wrong.
But Duke Jin’an didn’t speak again, instead gazing at her profile so close at hand.
Her expression was calm and composed, as if no trace of sorrow or anguish had ever been allowed to linger on her face.
Yet, beneath that serene exterior, how much hidden grief and unspoken pain was she suppressing?
He had always thought himself the most wretched person in the world, yet time and again, it turned out she had suffered even more than he did.
They were truly a matched pair – both appearing brilliant and poised before others, yet encountering events increasingly sordid and heart-chilling.
Another low, soft cough sounded near his ear.
“If you sit like that, your chest will hurt,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Sit like that?
Sit like what?
Duke Jin’an looked down at himself in a daze, then jolted back as if scalded by fire.
A loud thud shook the carriage, making it sway.
Eunuch Jing, who was driving himself, also trembled.
Thankfully, for the sake of greater safety, this carriage had been chosen. Though it was a bit hot in summer, it had complete doors and windows, good soundproofing, and – most importantly – the people inside seemed mindful that they were on a public street and hadn’t made any noticeable commotion. Only low, indistinct voices could be heard.
This loud thud was the first real disturbance.
“Are you all right?”
“It hurts!”
The words from inside followed immediately.
Eunuch Jing quickly composed himself, focusing his gaze ahead, while mentally recounting the dishes he’d eaten at the Cheng residence earlier that day.
Tofu, carved tofu – I’d long heard that Tai Ping Residence became famous for its intricately carved tofu offerings to the Buddha, but today was the first time I truly saw and tasted it…
Cheng Jiao-niang watched as Duke Jin’an reached up to rub his head, a slight smile touching her lips.
“Knowing pain isn’t so bad. If you didn’t feel pain, that would really be trouble,” she said.
Duke Jin’an didn’t look at her, his expression a mix of embarrassment and feigned composure.
“That’s true. Pain means life, after all,” he said, his entire ears burning red and hot, almost as if they were melting.
This is really too much – what was I doing just now?
“Isn’t it ‘flow’ that means life?” Cheng Jiao-niang’s voice came, tinged with amusement.
“It’s the same – pain leads to flow,” Duke Jin’an replied, disregarding whether she was smiling or showing any other expression. With a forced calm, he reached to lift the carriage curtain. “Are we home yet?”
“Going by distance, we’re probably on the third lap,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
“Third lap of what?” Duke Jin’an was momentarily confused, then suddenly realized what she meant. His expression shifted to astonishment, and he abruptly pushed open the carriage door. “Ah-Jing!”
This shout nearly startled Eunuch Jing off the carriage seat – he’d been pondering whether fish soup or vegetarian duck came after the braised pork.
He turned around to see Duke Jin’an half-kneeling inside the carriage, one hand holding the door open, his brow furrowed as he glared at him.
“What are you doing? Exercising the horses?”
Not exercising the horses – exercising people.
Eunuch Jing thought to himself as he looked at Duke Jin’an, whose robes were slightly disheveled and whose hairpiece was a little askew.
“That was… quite fast,” he murmured under his breath.
As Duke Jin’an strode quickly into the courtyard gate, his expression stern and hands clasped behind his back, Master Gu pointed a reproachful finger at Eunuch Jing, who trailed behind looking embarrassed, then hurried in after him.
Back in the bridal chamber, the maids promptly stepped forward to help them change clothes.
“You go freshen up first. I need to discuss some matters with them,” Duke Jin’an said.
Cheng Jiao-niang called him back.
“A study has been arranged in this courtyard. If you need to talk, you can go there,” she said.
Duke Jin’an paused for a moment in mild surprise.
“Alright,” he nodded promptly.
“Your Highness, this way please,” Su Xin quickly stepped forward to lead the way.
Watching Duke Jin’an walk out, Cheng Jiao-niang headed off to wash up herself.
When Eunuch Jing, Master Gu, and three or four other advisors were summoned and led into the study, they still looked a bit uneasy.
They had assumed they would be meeting in His Highness’s usual study, not that they would be brought into the inner courtyard.
“Has His Highness set up a study here as well?” Master Gu remarked.
“This belongs to Her Highness,” Su Xin replied with a smile as she personally poured tea for them. “Her Highness suggested it would be best for His Highness to discuss matters within the courtyard.”
Eunuch Jing chuckled.
“That’s just as well. Her Highness can keep an eye on His Highness at all times,” he said, with a hint of flattery.
Where did you get the idea that she can’t bear to be apart from me and wants to see me every moment?
Duke Jin’an shot him a glare.
Was it me who was poisoned, or was it Eunuch Jing? Why does he seem to have grown a bit foolish?
But then again, maybe… perhaps… possibly… she didn’t want him to go far in case something happened and she couldn’t attend to him quickly?
She’s really being too careful – I’m not a child…
Watching Duke Jin’an break into a wide grin under the lamplight, Master Gu couldn’t help but sigh softly and avert his gaze with a hint of helplessness.
Is it going to be like this all the time from now on?
