Chapter 35
Chapter 35: I Will Not Think of You—Do Not Think of Me
Su Xuan Ming staggered out of the room and seized Chen Yi Xuan’s hand, his eyes full of hope and dread at once. “Yi Xuan… Jing Niang—she… she’s alright, isn’t she?”
His heart felt as if someone had grabbed it and kneaded it hard. He feared Jing Niang’s decision to leave was unshakable, yet he feared even more that she had no one to rely on, forced to sit alone and swallow her grief in silence.
Chen Yi Xuan’s smile stiffened. His dark, round eyes did not dare meet Su Xuan Ming’s. Instead, he kept flicking glances toward Gu Nan Xi, as if begging her to save him.
Su Yun Ting had been waiting outside so long his legs were numb. He snapped, “Brother asked you a question. Answer honestly. Why are you staring at Mother?”
“This… ah… well…” Chen Yi Xuan’s toe traced nervous circles on the ground.
Gu Nan Xi endured the ache in her legs and gave him a calm nod. “At this point, there’s nothing we can’t say in front of everyone. Speak. Don’t hold back.”
With that permission, Chen Yi Xuan finally burst out, still bristling, “Jing Niang switched carriages several times and took those back roads nobody uses. Old Nine said it looked like the kind of route kidnappers take. So we split up—one group went to report it at the prefecture yamen, and the other stayed on their tail.”
Su Xuan Ming’s face drained.
Jing Niang was in the bloom of youth, beautiful by nature. If kidnappers tricked her away, they would only sell her to some filthy place.
“Quick,” he rasped. “Yi Xuan, take me to find Jing Niang. She needs me.”
He snatched the sword hanging on the wall, intent on charging out like a hero.
But his panic made him clumsy. His left foot caught his right, and he sprawled face-first onto the floor.
“Tsk.” Su Yun Ting clicked his tongue. “With your skills? You’ll go there and get yourself taken too.”
He sat down as if nothing had happened and poured himself a cup of agarwood water.
Su Xuan Ming pushed himself up, cheeks burning, and glared at him. “Second Brother, if you don’t want to go, then don’t. But don’t stop me.”
Su Yun Ting gave a cold snort and jerked his chin at Chen Yi Xuan. “Do you see Tenth Brother panicking? Let him finish, at least.”
Chen Yi Xuan swallowed and hurried on before the two brothers could start shouting. “The carriage stopped at a small courtyard on the capital outskirts. An old woman came out, and the two of them talked like old friends. Then she welcomed Jing Niang inside. We asked the neighbors—turns out the owner of that courtyard is a young man.”
Su Xuan Ming went rigid, as if someone had slapped him.
For a moment, the world went silent. They could hear each other breathing.
A strange gust swept across the courtyard. Thick clouds rolled in and swallowed the moon.
In the sudden darkness, no one could see Su Xuan Ming’s expression. They only heard his hoarse voice, slow and unsteady. “I have to look. Even if it’s only one glance… What if something really happened to her?”
As the last word fell, the moon broke free again. Cold light washed over his face. A heavy haze filled his eyes, and it looked as though the next blink would spill tears.
Gu Nan Xi sighed. She patted her numb legs and stood, sweeping her arm wide. “Go. We all go.”
“Got it, Godmother!”
Seven or eight sturdy young men rose at once—some tall and lean, some short and solid. Every one of them wore the same hard expression as they strode forward, all swagger and menace, as if they were not going to check on Jing Niang but to start a fight.
To save time, they took only two carriages. Chen Yi Xuan and Li Ming De volunteered to serve as coachmen.
Under the pale moon, weary birds returned to their nests while the two carriages cut against the flow of people, swerving left and right before turning onto a country road.
Su Xuan Ming kept pushing the curtain aside, craning his head out like a man trying to will the road shorter. “Are we there yet? How much longer?”
Su Yun Ting curled his lip, but he lowered his voice—at least he knew how to spare someone’s pride. “First time I’ve seen someone rush to put on a green hat. Wouldn’t it be better to part cleanly and be done? Why insist on tearing off the last shred of dignity?”
Gu Nan Xi reached into her pouch, pulled out a piece of candied fruit, and stuffed it into his mouth. “Yun Yan gets tofu pudding. You get candied fruit. Be sweet.”
Su Yun Ting’s cheeks puffed out. “Why?”
Su Yun Yan was focused on shelling sunflower seeds for Gu Nan Xi. Without even looking up, she answered at once, “Because you’re lacking sweetness in your fate.”
Gu Nan Xi pressed a hand to her forehead, then calmly stuffed another candied fruit into Su Yun Yan’s mouth.
Those two were the same breed—each one half a mess, together a full disaster.
The carriage rattled on and soon reached the small courtyard on the capital outskirts.
It looked old. Soot stains clung to the roof tiles like scars.
Because the courtyard sat among fields, the air carried the thick stench of manure fertilizer.
The tears Su Xuan Ming had fought all the way finally fell. “To live in such harsh conditions… why would Jing Niang do this to herself?”
Jiang Guang Hai stroked his chin and answered with cheerful sincerity, as if he were explaining something obvious to a sheltered young master. “It’s not that harsh. Housing in Capital costs a fortune—every inch of land is worth gold. An ordinary official could go without eating or drinking for two hundred years and still barely afford a home in Capital. The outskirts are farther, but anyone who can buy property here isn’t ordinary either.”
Su Xuan Ming paused, caught between grief and disbelief, suddenly unsure whether he should keep crying.
Su Yun Ting leaned close to Gu Nan Xi’s ear and murmured with a smirk, “Mother, Seventh Brother Jiang Guang Hai is the one who truly needs candied fruit. I just have a sharp mouth. He’s honestly clueless.”
Gu Nan Xi flicked Su Yun Ting on the forehead. “You know better and still do it. Deserves a beating.”
They left the carriages around a corner not far from the courtyard. From there, they watched Su Xuan Ming go alone to knock.
“Lord Yan! You finally came to see me!”
A woman’s bright, delighted voice rang out across the fields.
The door swung open. Jing Niang stood there in a misty purple wrap top beneath a vivid blue jacket. Her wide satin skirt was embroidered with large butterflies that seemed to flutter with every excited step.
Then her gaze landed on Su Xuan Ming.
The joy froze on her face.
“Why is it you?!” she blurted.
Su Xuan Ming lowered his head like a child caught in wrongdoing. “I… I was worried about you.”
Jing Niang’s eyes darted behind her. She leaned out, scanning the road and the fields, then slipped outside and pulled the door mostly shut.
“Su Lang,” she said quietly, “since you’ve found me, I won’t hide it from you. A good bird chooses the best tree to perch in. I, Li Ning Jing, refuse to spend my life as a merchant girl. I refuse to have my children and grandchildren be looked down on forever. I want to defy fate and change my life!”
Her voice sharpened as she went on. “You may be the eldest son of Marquis Yong Chang, but you can’t sit for the imperial exams, and you can’t go to war and earn merit. You’ll drift through life, mediocre and unnoticed. That isn’t what I want.”
“Besides…” She bit her lip until it turned pale. Old rumors, old humiliation—each memory was a blade, slicing her again and again. “I can’t win against your Mother.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, bright as glass in the moonlight.
Su Xuan Ming snapped his head up, words tripping over themselves. “Jing Niang, I can— I can take the imperial exams! I’ll study. I’ll work hard!”
“Su Xuan Ming!” Jing Niang scolded, low and fierce. “You ranked at the bottom at Song Shan Academy. You can’t even get into the Imperial Academy. How could you ever compare to Yan Fu Song—Young Master Yan?”
She turned back toward the courtyard, leaving him only a resolute back. “I will not think of you—so don’t think of me. Give the heart you once gave me to someone else, if you like!”
Somewhere nearby, Xie Zhi recited the Fortune-Telling Tune in a soft, steady voice:
I will not think of you; do not think of me.
Give the heart you once gave me to someone else, if you like.
In plain words, it meant: I won’t miss you, and you shouldn’t miss me either. If you ever loved me, then love someone else instead.