Chapter Sixty-Four: Blame Me, Hate Me (Part Two)

Deep within the Song Mountains, there was a secluded courtyard. Whitewashed walls and black-tiled roofs stood amidst decorations fashioned from mountain bamboo, wildwood, and native blossoms, all exuding a pure and refreshing elegance. The front yard was spacious, its grounds paved with blue bricks, and to the side lay a practice ground covered in sand. The rear courtyard, exquisitely adorned, held its own charm; to its west stretched a large garden lush with trees and crossed by murmuring streams and small bridges. Within the garden stood pavilions, winding corridors, and a loft from which one could gaze far into the distance.

In a bedroom of a side wing at the back, a man and a woman lay upon a bed—the man’s head wrapped in gauze.

The woman awoke first. With a sharp scream, she clutched the blanket to her chest, terror etched across her face.

Startled awake, the man too was seized with shock. He sat up, clutching his chest, searching for his clothes but finding none. In his panic, he tore the milky-white bedsheet from the bed and wrapped it around himself.

“Stay back! Don’t come any closer!” The woman, trembling violently, looked at the man as though he were a sworn enemy.

“Aunt, I truly don’t know how this happened,” the man stopped, mortified.

Footsteps sounded outside. The visitor, impeccably mannered, knocked at the door. “Honored guests, are you awake?”

The voice was old, suggesting advanced years.

The man and woman exchanged bewildered glances before the man cleared his throat and called out, “Please, come in.”

An elderly country gentleman entered, flanked by two maids. He pressed his hands together and smiled warmly. “How fortunate it is that you, a devoted couple, have survived the ordeal. Truly, it is cause for celebration.”

The woman shrank into the corner of the bed, silent and wary. The man responded with a bow, “Elder, I presume it was you who rescued us. May I ask how you came to believe we are husband and wife?”

The old gentleman chuckled. “I have lived over sixty years and my eyes are sharp. That day, I was enjoying tea at the mountain’s foot when this lady fell from halfway up the slope. The gentleman followed at once, and upon landing, shielded her with his own body—a sacrifice only true lovers would make. Fortunately, fate was kind and you both landed on a net laid for catching birds. Else, I fear the outcome would have been tragic.”

At these words, disbelief flickered in the woman’s eyes. She glanced at the man’s bandaged head, her gaze tinged with worry.

The old gentleman waved his hand, and the maids brought forth clothing. “Ah yes, during the physician’s visit, he mentioned the lady’s health was somewhat frail and performed some minor treatments. How do you feel now, honored guest?”

The woman, surprised, moved her body and shook her head. The sharp pains and weakness of before had vanished, leaving her feeling light and vigorous. Overjoyed, she seized the man’s hand, shaking it repeatedly. “Husband, I’m cured! All my ailments are gone!”

The man laughed heartily with her.

The old gentleman, his face benevolent, stroked his beard. “Why don’t you both freshen up? I shan’t disturb you further. Oh, and please tell me where your household servants might be found so I may send for them—lest your family worry.”

At this, the woman’s face lost all joy, replaced by anxiety. The man patted her hand. “Thank you, Elder. Please send word to Zhongyue Temple that Quan Ce is here; someone will come.”

The old gentleman accepted and withdrew.

Behind the screen, the man donned his clothes. The woman, under the brocade quilt, hastily dressed as well. Soon, silence settled over the room.

The man was indeed Quan Ce, and the woman was Lady Ruilai.

After a long pause, Lady Ruilai sighed and spoke first. “Let us both forget what happened today.”

Quan Ce did not answer at once. He walked to the window, hands behind his back. “Ruilai, do you not feel that after such an ordeal, it is as though fate itself has intervened?”

Ruilai’s heart raced with dread, though she forced herself to maintain the composure of an elder. “What did you call me? You forget yourself—I am your aunt, and you must not be disrespectful...”

“The gravest disrespect has already occurred. Have you ever heard of an aunt and nephew sharing a bed?” Quan Ce’s voice was cold, his words merciless as he exposed the wound, on the verge of madness. “This is fate—fate’s compensation for my years of longing.”

“Enough, cease this madness!” Ruilai trembled, barely recognizing the man before her. She struggled to appeal to his conscience. “I know your feelings, but I am bound to your uncle by solemn vows. If your heart cannot die, then let us leave it to fate in the next life, not this one.”

“My uncle?” Quan Ce sneered. “Don’t forget, you fell from the Cliff of the Ancestral Tomb. If I had gathered a few of your garments and returned with them, claiming your body was devoured by wild beasts, what do you think he would do? He’d erect a cenotaph in your honor.”

“You... would imprison me?” Ruilai’s anger faded, her eyes dull with despair. “What use is a living corpse?”

“I do not want a living corpse.” Quan Ce’s face softened with deep sorrow. “I want your heart. Whatever he can give you, so can I.”

Unable to bear his gaze, Ruilai turned away. “It’s impossible. If you force me, you’ll have nothing but a corpse.”

“You threaten me?” Quan Ce’s face twisted, his eyes cold and sharp. “Then, upon your death, a tale will circulate—a scandalous romance about an aunt and her nephew, with real names printed for all to read. Let’s see how Chongmin and Chongxing will live in this world then.”

Shock and a trace of calculation flickered in Ruilai’s eyes. “If I’m gone, what of you? How will you show your face?”

“Ruilai, you’re mistaken.” Quan Ce sank to the floor, his expression etched with unspeakable grief. “If you die, I will not survive alone. If the tale ends in mutual death for love, it would sell even better.”

Ruilai shot to her feet, biting her lip as she looked down at him. “So you’re set on never letting me go? I will never yield to you.”

He gazed up at her for a long while, closed his eyes, and tears slid down his cheeks. “Even a heart of stone may be softened in time. Even if it’s impossible, if I do not try, I will never be content.”

Ruilai said nothing, only stared at him unflinchingly.

Quan Ce’s face was ashen. “Very well, let us make a pact. In two years—if you can amass a fortune of a million strings of cash, and I fail to win your heart, I will grant you freedom.”

“Do you mean it?” Her eyes lit up, but she grew wary. “You must not secretly hinder me.”

He gave a bitter smile. “Of course not. I’ll send Quan Li to assist you. You may not make candles, but any other business is yours to pursue.”

Ruilai’s bright eyes flickered, and a blush crept up her cheeks. “For these two years, you must not lay hands on me.”

“Naturally,” Quan Ce agreed readily.

Ruilai felt a weight lift from her heart, yet a strange melancholy lingered. “It would be best if you didn’t appear before me at all during these two years.”

He chuckled softly. “That’s impossible. Every ten days, I’ll visit to admire your dancing.”

She gave a muffled grunt and said nothing more.

“Master, your humble servants Shazhafu and Juedi await your orders.” A rush of footsteps sounded beyond the door—Quan Ce’s guards had arrived.

He stood, glanced back at Ruilai, and spoke gently, “I will purchase this place and bring in new servants. Rest easy here.”

“Leave—now!” Ruilai’s tone was harsh, her face dark with resentment.

Quan Ce smiled and left the room.

The door swung closed, a ray of sunlight flashed and vanished, and the room returned to gloom.

Quan Ce stretched his shoulders, gazed at the ranks of his guards, and asked with concern, “Have you found Lady Wu?”

“No, sir.”

A heavy thud sounded at the door, as if something weighty had struck it.

Facing the morning sun, Quan Ce smiled radiantly. Within his heart, there was hatred, unwillingness, and hope—enough, perhaps, to sustain her life.

Blame me, hate me—it is but the way of the world.