Chapter 40: The Ruthless Young Master
The rain is damp and cold, the rain falls on the Golden Wind and Drizzle Pavilion.
It is neither the tender and poignant rain of Jiangnan nor the rugged and bold downpour of the frontier; it carries an inescapable air of江湖 (jianghu, the world of martial arts and chivalry), and is the unique cold rain of late autumn in Bianjing (Kaifeng).
Its fine, continuous patter fell upon the layered eaves and brackets, upon the imposing high walls of the buildings, creating an endless rustling sound. The rain then flowed down the dark blue-green tiles, converging into a line at the eaves, intermittently striking the stone slabs, splashing up fleeting droplets before being swallowed by the larger curtain of rain, enveloping the vast earth in a desolate and lonely mist.
In the rain, behind a half-open carved wooden window in a low-lying part of the pavilion, sat a person.
He sat upright, his back straight, but not in a wooden chair; rather, he sat in a finely crafted wheelchair, which was parked by the window, just a step away from the damp, cold rain. He, too, gazed at the endless rain. A few sparse rays of light filtered through the window, outlining his thin profile. His figure seemed so frail that a sudden gust of wind could easily scatter him in the bitter rain.
He appeared exceptionally desolate in this world. His face was extremely young, around twenty years old, with delicate and refined features, like a finely painted portrait; his nose was straight, and his lips were pale, still carrying a youthful spirit. His good looks were a natural gift, as if carved and polished, clear and translucent like jade. He himself was more worthy of admiration than the rain outside the window.
The young man is ruthless, the head of the "Four Great Constables" appointed by the emperor, and the eldest disciple of Zhuge Shenhou. His real name is Sheng Yayu.
Rain streaked in through the window, dampening the fabric on his shoulders, but he seemed oblivious, still gazing at the continuous rain outside. He was on one side, the rain on the other.
She was on the other side too.
A figure holding a plain white oil-paper umbrella slowly emerged from the depths of the rain. The umbrella was small, barely covering her upper body, with a slender, fair wrist peeking out beneath it. She walked slowly, her steps light, amidst the somber, towering buildings, carrying a large, incongruous bouquet of flowers.
The flowers bloomed with extraordinary brilliance, a rare sight in late autumn, their vibrant colors like fire and rosy clouds. Layer upon layer of petals, full and flamboyant, burned brightly in the gray world. Raindrops dampened the outermost petals, and the bougainvillea, clinging to the flower, occasionally let droplets roll down the edges of the petals, dripping onto her skirt, which was also slightly wet, leaving a small, dark, adorable watermark.
But she didn't seem to care about her disheveled state. She just focused on holding her beautiful flowers and walked towards the building. She was framed by the wooden window frame, which became a picturesque scene. The annoying autumn rain was an insignificant background to her.
It's impolite to stare at a girl for too long, so he abruptly looked away. Almost simultaneously, she looked up out of the corner of his eye.
She must have seen him too; the two figures in the painting and outside the painting exchanged a glance, their radiance reflecting each other. But she quickly left the painting, the flowers vanished, and she disappeared to a place where he couldn't see her—a fleeting glimpse.
Wuqing continued watching the rain, then heard the sound of the curtain being lifted.
The person carrying the flowers was actually coming in. As if stepping across a scroll, she entered the building, and the sound of the rain faded away. However, she stopped at the threshold, looked down at the fiery red flowers in her arms, then looked up at the long, winding staircase. She frowned, as if regretting something.
Then she suddenly changed her pace and came to him in a few steps. Wuqing was taken aback. Before he knew who she was, she recognized him. The air was filled with the scent of water and flowers.
"Does the ruthless constable like flowers?" She spoke softly, her tone indistinguishable from the rain.
Wuqing froze. The question seemed abrupt and out of the blue. He didn't even know who she was, or why she was throwing this question at him while he was holding flowers in the rain. She was a complete stranger to him. But before he could finish thinking, he felt a weight on his chest.
His answer didn't matter to her; the flowers bloomed on his lap in an instant, filling his embrace. He instinctively held the bouquet, the rain-soaked blossoms softening in his hands. His aloofness and loneliness were all washed away by the bouquet. Wuqing, always a loner, meticulous in her thoughts, rarely showing her emotions, was also taken aback at this moment; the rain-drenched flowers were an unexpected gift.
Wuqing asked, "Thank you, young lady, but this flower..."
He was going to decline, but she didn't want him to. It was her good fortune to be able to give the flowers away. She said, "Watching the rain with flowers in hand, one realizes the true beauty of a flower only when it is in its most delicate state. It's more suitable for the chief constable to keep them than for them to stay in my hands."
Ruthless shook his head and said to her, "One should not accept rewards without merit."
She replied amidst the sound of rain, "Accepting it is already a merit."
Wuqing didn't know what to say. Why did she give it to him? Perhaps she just wanted someone to deliver it, and he accepting it was a favor. Thinking of this, he still couldn't quite understand it, but she had already picked up her oil-paper umbrella, determined not to let him return it. But if he accepted it, it sounded very strange—he had received a bouquet of flowers from a strange woman on a rainy day, in the brothel of Jinfeng Xiyu Tower.
He finally decided to ask her name, before she left, while she was still picking the blown-away petals from the bouquet, he wanted to at least find out.
Wuqing had already opened his lips, and the girl guessed what he meant, tilting her head to wait for him to ask.
But there's no need to ask anymore.
"Xie Huailing."
A deep, cold voice, all too familiar to them. After it finished speaking, there was a panting sound; the newcomer was coughing, deep within the corridor.
It was Su Mengzhen.
Wuqing and Xie Huailing looked at him together. They didn't know when he had arrived, or if he had just arrived. He was dressed in red, which complemented the flowers perfectly. They couldn't see his expression clearly, but his gaze was sharp as a knife. He first looked at Xie Huailing, whom they hadn't seen for several days, and then seemed to think of something else. In the end, he couldn't call his cousin too coldly, so he called her name again, this time only calling her by name.
.
Xie Huailing found it very strange.
Honestly, it shouldn't be like this, but she didn't want to think too much about what was wrong. Perhaps it was the intense gaze of her boss, who had been withdrawn for days, shrouded in shadow; perhaps it was the unsettling stillness of the building after Su Mengzhen's appearance; or perhaps it was simply the composition of the scene itself that made her mind go blank. An inexplicable sense of stagnation permeated the damp air. "Su Mengzhen doesn't have her period, does she?" she wondered.
Luckily, she was too lazy to climb the stairs earlier and gave the flowers to Wuqing, otherwise she probably would have climbed for nothing once he came downstairs. She thought to herself.
In short, I swear to God, everyone here is innocent. Now that things have come to this, let's find Doraemon's time machine first.
Su Mengzhen continued speaking, first looking at Wuqing in the wheelchair and greeting him, then saying, "I just finished preparing the last dose of medicine for today in the medicine room, which took some time and kept you waiting. Now we can continue to discuss the matters we had not finished earlier."
His words were ordinary; he explained the reason for the delay and got back to the point, appearing forthright and courteous. He maintained the politeness expected of a fellow traveler and business partner, while also showing the sincerity one would show to a friend.
Then, he turned to Xie Huailing. Xie Huailing could feel the trajectory of his gaze, first falling on her rain-soaked skirt, then sweeping over the red flower that was now peacefully in Wuqing's arms, and finally settling on her face.
He spoke in a question, but it sounded more like the beginning of a statement: "What are you doing here? What brings you here?"
Xie Huailing composed herself, pulling the inappropriate, strange feeling from her mind. She looked up at Su Mengzhen and replied in a flat voice, "It's nothing. I was just taking a walk and happened to pass by the building. I saw the rain scene was nice, so I stopped to look at it for a while."
Her answer was impeccable, explaining the reason for her appearance, clarifying her purpose, and politely indicating that it wouldn't interfere with important matters, but it didn't fool Su Mengzhen. Su Mengzhen said, "A brothel isn't a place for leisurely strolls. If you have something to say, just say it directly."
Xie Huailing avoided answering, only saying to him, "It's all over now, how can I trouble you, cousin?" She said it lightly, and then added, "Besides, you and Wuqing the constable have something to discuss, so I'm disturbing you here. I'll take my leave now."
As she spoke, she turned slightly, about to step back into the misty rain with her oil-paper umbrella.
“No need,” Su Mengzhen said immediately.
Xie Huailing stopped in her tracks, slightly raised the edge of her umbrella, revealing a somewhat puzzled look on her face as she looked at Su Mengzhen.
Su Mengzhen looked directly at her, his thin lips pursed slightly, then relaxed, and said clearly, "I need to talk to you. Go to my study and wait for me. I'll talk to you after we're done."
It seemed the silent treatment was about to end. Xie Huailing understood, wondering what this man had been holding back for days. She glanced at him, then at Wuqing, who sat silently in his wheelchair, observing quietly, and replied, "Oh."
Then she pressed Su Mengzhen for answers, not wanting to climb several floors and get scolded: "Am I going to get scolded this time? If I get scolded, I won't go up."
Su Mengzhen didn't feel comfortable saying anything in front of Wuqing, so she only said, "I've never scolded you, it's just a matter of whether you listen or not... Go upstairs first."
Xie Huailing decided she wouldn't be scolded. She walked up the steps of the brothel and headed straight upstairs. As she turned a corner, her white figure quickly disappeared.
Under the empty eaves, only Su Mengzhen's slender yet upright figure remained, along with Wuqing's knees, which were occupied by a large bouquet of vibrant flowers. The autumn rain continued, the most unusual footnote, and the most profound breath. The two looked at each other in silence, listening to her footsteps fading into the distance, then suddenly quickening, probably as she lifted her skirt and ran away.
His callous fingers unconsciously caressed the petals. With this interruption, he had no choice but to accept it. What had just happened was a first for him. He went to ask Su Mengzhen, "Is that your cousin?"
Su Mengzhen suddenly didn't know what to say. He could only say, "Yes. She is self-confident in her intelligence and often acts as she pleases. She is difficult to restrain. If she causes you any trouble, I will teach her a lesson when I get back."
"It's not exactly a problem," Wuqing said, looking at the flower in her hand. "Let's continue with what we hadn't finished about Wuzheng Manor."
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