Taming of Loneliness

When Jiang Manyan woke up again, she could not remember the dream she had the night before. She found herself lying on a clean but unfamiliar bed, with only water stains on the pillow.

The wounds on my body were still painful because they had been carefully treated, but they were no longer as burning and unbearable as before.

He looked around; the furnishings were simple, yet they gave off an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

He struggled to get up and found that the door was not locked.

A sense of absurdity washed over him. He pushed open the door…

The sight that came into view made him freeze in place, his blood seemingly freezing at that moment.

The familiar low wall, the familiar blue brick ground, and... the tall, lush jacaranda tree in the courtyard, which is in full bloom.

Blue-purple flowers shrouded the branches like clouds and mist. A gentle breeze blew, and the petals fell like a light rain, covering the ground with a thin carpet.

This is... the secluded little courtyard where he and his mother lived in the Song family mansion for more than seven years!

His heart felt like it had been struck hard by something, a dull, throbbing pain shooting through him. Almost involuntarily, he dragged his heavy, aching body step by step toward the jacaranda tree.

Up close, you can see that near the base of the thick tree trunk, there are a few small, long-faded characters and a scratch representing his height—carved when he was seven years old.

His mother was still alive then, and she would gently stroke his head and say with a smile, "Our Manyan will definitely grow very tall in the future."

...

Now, it feels like a lifetime ago.

He slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping across the entire courtyard with a complex expression. The courtyard was still the same, the layout unchanged, but the feeling was completely different.

The dilapidated, leaky, and rickety little house in his memory seemed to have been carefully repaired. The windows were bright and clean, and even the window frames had been replaced with new ones, so much so that he felt a sense of unfamiliarity at first glance.

However, those old bricks in the corner, covered in moss and never replaced, and that familiar dent worn down by time under the porch...

These subtle details, like sharp thorns, ruthlessly pierce the illusion, reminding him of all the coldness and cruelty that had once occurred here.

He walked to the courtyard gate, reached out and pushed it; sure enough, there were heavy chains hanging outside.

The courtyard wall here isn't very high for an adult, and with his current skills, even with his injuries, it wouldn't be entirely impossible for him to climb over it.

But he only glanced at it before looking away, a barely perceptible sneer playing on his lips.

He wasn't naive. Since Song Guansui dared to leave him here, and even leave the door unlocked, he would never give him any real chance to escape.

This seemingly lax guarding is probably the most ingenious form of imprisonment.

Beyond the courtyard walls, an even more intricate web of traps awaits him. Any rash action could lead to even more unbearable consequences.

The wounds on his chest and body still throbbed, a stark reminder of his current weakness and perilous situation.

He silently walked to the newly placed deck chair under the tree, and as if he had exhausted all his strength, slowly lay down.

The recliner was very comfortable, perfectly supporting his aching body. He closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep.

He let the tiny blue-purple petals drift down in the wind, some playfully landing on his thick, dark hair, others gently brushing against his pale cheeks like sighs, and finally slipping quietly onto his plain clothes.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled, flowing halos of light on him.

The scene was serene and beautiful, even possessing a fragile poetic quality, yet it formed a strange contrast with the turbulent undercurrents within his heart.

He needs rest, he needs to recover his strength as soon as possible, and more importantly... he needs to think calmly!

Silent torment and inner turmoil!

As the days passed, the jacaranda's flowering season gradually ended, new leaves sprouted, and time seemed to stand still in the courtyard.

Apart from a mute servant with an expressionless face, like a programmed puppet, who would appear on time to bring her three meals a day, Jiang Manyan had not seen anyone else.

He tried to communicate with the mute servant, whether by probing with words, gesturing, or trying to convey information with his eyes, but the servant did not react at all. He would put down the food, bow and retreat like a ghost, leaving no trace.

The food wasn't luxurious; it consisted of simple, home-style dishes, but the ingredients were fresh and the cooking was excellent.

Jiang Manyan did not resist at all, and quietly and carefully ate all her food at each meal.

The more than ten days of wandering, hunger and cold had exhausted his strength. The thin layer of muscle he had built up in Jincheng had faded away, and his body was so thin that it seemed as if a gust of wind could blow him over.

He was like a plant struggling to absorb nutrients in the bitter cold, waiting for the time to revive, silently and obediently accepting everything before him, just to accumulate strength.

However, when night falls and one finds oneself alone in this familiar yet unfamiliar courtyard, the calmness of the daytime is often hard to maintain.

Lying in bed, even though the cabin had been renovated, the air still seemed to be filled with the faint musty smell unique to old wood, which was no different from the smell deep in my memory!

The mottled wooden marks on the roof, the slightly loose stone slab under the bed that makes a slight sound when you turn over... every detail is like a cold key, unexpectedly unlocking the gates of dusty, fearful memories.

He could almost hear the harsh voices that had pierced his skin when he was a child, and he could almost feel the burning pain of the whip striking his flesh.

This pervasive sense of familiarity wove itself into a vast, suffocating, invisible net in the darkness, binding him tightly.

An intense urge to escape, like a venomous snake, gnawed at his reason—to smash the door and rush out! But in the end, reason always forcefully suppressed this restlessness.

A profound sense of helplessness and the panic of imprisonment overwhelmed him along with the thick darkness of night. He felt like a bird trapped back in the cage of his childhood nightmares, futilely crashing against unseen bars.

But every time dawn breaks and the sunlight floods the courtyard again, Jiang Manyan forces herself to break free from the terror of the night.

The instinct for survival and a tenacious will gradually take over as the light shines.

He knew Song Guansui's purpose—to wear down his will through loneliness, the pressure of a familiar environment, and uncertainty.

Make him break down!! And ultimately make him completely dependent.

He told himself: He must not let him succeed. He regarded this state of imprisonment as a special, silent war, with Song Guansui as his opponent, and also his own inner fears...

He began to examine the courtyard more closely, as if it were a battlefield—it was just an ordinary courtyard, without any power to devour people's hearts.

And I am no longer that six or seven-year-old child who was powerless to resist!

He moves his body within a limited range to maintain basic physical strength and agility.

More often than not, he repeatedly reviewed the process of his capture, calmly analyzed Song Guansui's current power, his stubborn weaknesses, and the actions Qin Lingfeng might take.

He transformed his time of solitude into time for strategic thinking, using the sharp edge of reason to combat the fragility of emotion.

This focused thinking is the best shield against the erosion of loneliness.

However, as time went on...

In the long days and nights when no one speaks to you, those unpleasant memories still surface uncontrollably.

Liu's cold gaze, her father's indifferent back, the servants' wanton bullying, and Song Guansui's transformation from offering sweet words to wielding the ruler... especially her mother's swollen, deformed face, filled with pain, before her death...

The details replayed vividly in my mind, bringing waves of heart palpitations and profound sorrow.

Whenever negative emotions threaten to overwhelm him, he immediately, almost compulsively, switches to memories of Jincheng.

He missed the simple and sincere smiles of the people of Jincheng, the moments when he and Qin Lingfeng planned for the future together and the land beneath their feet gradually prospered, and the vibrant bustle of that land.

These memories are his true "pure land," his spiritual fortress against the despair he faces.

Day after day, his heart became a battlefield where the past and the future, despair and hope clashed fiercely.

These vague, lonely days and nights, imprisoned by invisible pressure, seemed to split him into two people: one was Jiang Manyan, a prisoner who appeared compliant but was tormented by loneliness and memories, and would helplessly shed tears in the dead of night.

The other is the cold-hearted Lord of Jincheng, who constantly reminds himself that he must be patient and learn to disguise himself in order to seize the opportunity.

Until the morning of the twelfth.

The sunlight had just dispelled the morning mist, but Jiang Manyan did not close her eyes to rest as usual.

He walked to the center of the courtyard, looked up, and spoke in a low but clear voice to the empty courtyard, his tone carrying a deliberately drawn-out, almost coquettish complaint.

"Brother, it's so boring here... I want to read some books."

He paused, tilted his head as if recalling something, and added, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"I'm craving grilled fish again, the kind we used to grill outdoors... and grilled taro, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside..."

His voice echoed in the quiet courtyard before fading away without any immediate response. He seemed unconcerned, and after speaking, he leisurely strolled back to his recliner, his posture relaxed, as if it had been just a casual remark made on a whim.

However, these seemingly casual words are like pebbles thrown into a still lake.

The next morning, when Jiang Manyan opened the door, she found a small, exquisite wooden table in the courtyard, placed next to the recliner where he often lay.

A stack of new books was neatly arranged on the low table.

The pages were clean and crisp, still fragrant with ink, but the contents were not ordinary stories or scriptures for entertainment, but rather several rather professional books on water conservancy and local customs—the kind of books that he would really be interested in.

Next to the book, there was also a pot of steaming hot tea.

Jiang Manyan's gaze lingered on the books for a moment, her fingertips gently brushing along the smooth spines, her expression complex and unreadable.

Song Guansui was indeed watching him closely! Moreover, he precisely delivered things that would interest him, a silent declaration: I understand you, I can satisfy you, but everything is under my control.

At noon, the mute servant brought lunch. It was the usual three dishes and a soup, but this time, there was a golden-brown, fragrant fish on the plate, accompanied by a bright red chili sauce.

However, there was no roasted taro as he casually mentioned...

Jiang Manyan silently picked up her chopsticks and first took a piece of grilled fish. The fish skin was crispy, and the inside was tender and juicy. The cooking time was perfect, far surpassing the taste of the casually grilled fish she remembered.

But as he savored the delicious food, his heart remained cold. Song Guansui responded to him in this way: I can satisfy you, but only the parts I want to satisfy.

You can make requests, but the final decision always rests with me.

Grilled fish is a gift, a temptation; the absence of grilled taro is a reminder, a warning. This is a subtle, gradual game of psychological manipulation.

Jiang Manyan ate all the food quietly and slowly, including the grilled fish, leaving nothing behind.

Then, he picked up a book on water conservancy from the low table, walked back to the recliner, and began to read intently, seemingly captivated by its contents.

On the surface, everything was calm and undisturbed, as if yesterday's "request" was merely for amusement, and today's "reward" was just right.

But deep within his lowered eyes, he was more clear-headed and cold than ever before.

Day 15

The jacaranda trees in the courtyard have almost all shed their leaves, and new leaves are just beginning to sprout, creating a lush green scene, but the atmosphere is more stagnant than usual.

The sound of the courtyard gate being pushed open abruptly broke the silence that had lasted for days.

Song Guansui walked in, his black brocade robe accentuating his tall and immaculate figure, a clear, almost joyful smile playing on his lips.

He exuded an aura of self-satisfaction, as if he had just won some important victory.