Chapter Fifteen: Burning Desire

The mansion was deathly silent. The once brightly lit hall was now pitch black, with only a few pale moonlights seeping in through the high windows, barely outlining the blurry shapes of the furniture, adding to the emptiness and desolation.

After Lin Tang left, the house seemed to have suddenly lost its vitality; even the air seemed to freeze, leaving only boundless desolation.

Cheng Qing intended to use the darkness to sneak back to her secluded room, but just as she held her breath and tiptoed through the hall, a faint light suddenly appeared in the corner.

Her heart sank, and she stood rooted to the spot.

The faint light came from the small round table. A lone oil lamp, with a small wick, flickered with a tiny flame, barely illuminating a corner of the table. Beside the table, a quiet figure sat alone.

Qiao Yuan.

He didn't look at her, seemingly immersed in his own world, his slender fingers holding a small white porcelain wine cup, pouring himself a drink.

A wine jug sat on the table, and the air was thick with the strong aroma of sorghum liquor.

The light was too dim, only revealing half of his profile. His jawline was taut, and he exuded an indescribable loneliness and exhaustion, as if the heavy night had bent his spine.

Cheng Qing stood frozen in place, unsure whether to move forward or backward. Instinctively, she wrapped her plain shawl tighter around herself, trying to conceal the disheveled state of her tattered cheongsam.

"You're back?" Qiao Yuan's voice suddenly rang out, but he still didn't look up. He just poured himself another glass of wine, the sound of the clear liquid being poured into the glass being particularly clear in the dead silence.

Cheng Qing's throat tightened, and she couldn't make a sound. She just nodded subconsciously, then realized that he probably wasn't even looking at her.

Qiao Yuan finally slowly raised his eyelids, his gaze falling on her. His eyes were deep and scrutinizing, like a cold star shining through the twilight, sharp yet seemingly veiled by an impenetrable mist.

He looked at her silently for a moment, his gaze sweeping over her disheveled hair, her pale, bloodless face, and her body, which was wrapped tightly in a shawl but still trembling slightly. He was a man, and naturally, he could tell at a glance what she had been through.

Cheng Qing had never felt ashamed of herself, but for some reason, at this moment she hid her embarrassment for the first time.

However, to Cheng Qing's surprise, Qiao Yuan looked up at her, and there was no anger, no contempt, or even a ripple in his deep eyes as she had expected.

"Sit down." Qiao Yuan gestured to the empty seat opposite him, his voice flat and emotionless.

Cheng Qing hesitated, unsure of his intentions: mockery? Pity? Or... another form of punishment?

Qiao Yuan didn't urge her. He simply picked up the wine pot, took a clean wine glass, slowly poured more than half a glass, and pushed it in front of her. The amber-colored wine shimmered under the dim light.

"Have a drink to warm up," he said casually.

Cheng Qing looked at the glass of wine, then at him. The almost ashen calm on his face filled her with a strange panic, a chill that ran through her more than anger. She slowly moved closer, stiffly sitting on the edge of the chair, without touching the glass of wine.

Qiao Yuan didn't seem to care whether she drank or not. He picked up his glass, tilted his head back, and took a big gulp. The strong liquor burned his throat. He frowned slightly, then relaxed.

“We’re all just nobody,” Qiao Yuan’s voice was low, as if he were talking to himself, or as if he were speaking to Cheng Qing. “In this chaotic era, we’re not even a speck of dust. Our fates have long been laid out on the chessboard, and we have no choice in what we do. You…me…we’re all the same.”

He paused, his gaze seemingly drifting to a distant place, perhaps the direction Lin Tang had left in, or perhaps a deeper, unspeakable past.

"We...have no other choice." The last few words were as soft as a sigh, dissipating into the heavy smell of alcohol and the darkness of the night.

Cheng Qing's heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by something, a mixture of sourness, bitterness, and a sharp, piercing pain. She looked at the man before her, the man she had schemed so hard to get close to, to control, and even to destroy.

He was a person she had never seen before. Gone was his usual cold and imposing demeanor, gone was the indifferent detachment he displayed when faced with her countless temptations, and gone was the complex, indescribable focus he displayed in front of Lin Tang. Only a bottomless weariness and a resigned calm remained.

Cheng Qing was puzzled. She couldn't understand Qiao Yuan. In the education she received since childhood, men were nothing more than animals who thought with their lower bodies. She was young and beautiful, and she could naturally find a way to get what she wanted. But it was all in vain for Qiao Yuan. An indescribable emotion surged in Cheng Qing's chest.

"Lin Jintang..."

Hearing him utter that name, she suddenly felt jealous of her. Why was she able to capture this man's heart, even after betraying him with another man and leaving, still haunting him like a ghost? And what about her? She was clearly using him, so why did she feel a twisted pity and...love that she herself was unwilling to admit?

The thought sent a chill down her spine and made her feel a sense of absurdity. Love? To this man who treated her like a pawn, a tool, like air? Yet, the vulnerability and loneliness he revealed at that moment were like a poisoned hook, seizing the twisted desire in the darkest corner of her heart.

Jealousy and a morbid love intertwined and burned, almost destroying her already crumbling reason.

Cheng Qing's fingers unconsciously clenched the edge of the shawl, her knuckles turning even paler from the force.

"What...is it that I'm inferior to Lin Tang in?"

Qiao Yuan rubbed his fingers against the rim of the wine cup, the wine on his fingertips was icy cold.

“You can’t compare to her… in life,” he said, his voice like a damp cotton ball, sinking into the ground.

"Alive?" Her eyes almost glazed over; she couldn't comprehend what he meant.

"Yes, we are all alive... but we are all powerless to control our own lives, so how can we be considered truly alive?"

"Living?" she repeated the word, then suddenly laughed. "I'd like to live! But will anyone give me that chance?"

Qiao Yuan didn't move. He looked at Cheng Qing, his eyes filled with pity that slowly enveloped his pupils like a layer of mist.

“Cheng Qing,” he said softly, “you should leave.”

"Leave?" Cheng Qing's grip tightened, her nails digging into Qiao Yuan's skin, drawing a bead of blood. "Where to go? Sato won't let me go, you won't let me go!" She leaned closer, her lips almost touching Qiao Yuan's chin. "Qiao Yuan, can you... can you please not let me go? Even if you're lying to me, even if you're using me, even if you're..." Her voice suddenly softened, like a child pleading, "even if you're just using me as a substitute for her, okay?"

"It's too late, you should go and rest!" Qiao Yuan stopped looking at her, and downed the remaining wine in his glass in one gulp. As his Adam's apple bobbed, a strong smell of alcohol spread out.

Qiao Yuan stood up, his body swaying slightly, and gradually disappeared into the deeper darkness of the hall, moving towards the guest rooms downstairs.

Cheng Qing remained frozen in place, her fingertips digging deep into the rough fabric of her shawl, almost tearing it through. The hall returned to deathly silence, with only the flickering flame of the lone lamp casting an uncertain shadow on her face.

After a long while, she slowly got up and returned to her room.

She slammed the door shut behind her, then slid down onto the cold door panel, feeling all her strength drain away, leaving only a long-suppressed tremor.

She seemed to snap out of her daze, lunged at the washbasin stand, grabbed a cold towel, and frantically scrubbed away the filth. The icy water stung her wounds, but she paid no heed, scrubbing even harder as if trying to peel away her tainted skin along with the trampled soul within.

The sound of rushing water, mixed with her heavy breathing, echoed in the small space.

The towel was thrown heavily into the basin, splashing water everywhere.

Cheng Qing was panting, her wet hair sticking to her forehead, water droplets sliding down her neck and into her collar. She stared at the pair of burning, dark eyes in the mirror. There were no tears in them, only a near-mad flame that burned even more fiercely after being doused with ice water.

A cold and twisted thought, like a poisonous vine, sprouted wildly from the darkest corner of her heart.

Since Sato is so arrogant and insists on subduing Qiao Yuan, this "harmful" sword, then she will personally temper this sword with the most intense poison fire!

Since Lin Tang insists on burning herself out of her own wits in an attempt to illuminate this dark world, then she will help this foolish flame burn even brighter and fiercer!

Didn't Qiao Yuan still have expectations for Lin Tang? Wasn't he still moved by that glimmer of light? Then destroy it completely! Let Lin Tang's failure, her disarray, and her fate of being crushed in this chaotic world be like the sharpest dagger, stabbing fiercely into the soft, pure land in Qiao Yuan's heart.

Only when the glimmer of light in his heart is completely extinguished, buried by the ashes of despair and betrayal, will he truly fall into this boundless darkness... fall into her palm.

Cheng Qing looked at her wet, pale face, which was burning with a dark flame in the mirror, and slowly, silently, she grinned into an almost ferocious smile.