Chapter 10
Chen Xuanqing was propping his elbows against the edge of the desk, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the cover of the ancient book lying open on the desk. He was so sleepy that his eyelids kept drooping, and he could hardly hear the sound of the bamboo shadows swaying outside the window.
He was startled awake when the study door was gently pushed open and the sound of footsteps carrying the chill of the night wind came. As he straightened up, the chair leg scraped lightly on the blue brick floor.
Looking up, Chen Yanyun was taking off his cloak, the hem of his dark official robe still damp with night dew, his brows bearing the marks of the trials and tribulations of court meetings. Chen Yi stood to the side, holding the cloak. Seeing Chen Xuanqing rise, he merely nodded slightly and quietly slipped out, closing the door behind him to shut out the moonlight and the sound of the wind from the corridor.
Chen Yanyun walked to the other side of the desk and sat down. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips, and his gaze swept over the bloodshot eyes of his son. He first frowned and tapped the table with his knuckles: "You're still waiting in the study at this hour. Is there something important?" His voice was a little tired, but he still maintained his usual composure. His gaze fell on Chen Xuanqing's tense profile, and he could tell that this was not just a casual greeting.
Chen Xuanqing clenched his fists, the tension that had been eased by drowsiness surging back up.
He looked at his father's face, his Adam's apple bobbed, and the words he had rehearsed countless times in his mind suddenly became stuck. He could only stand up and bow: "Father, I do have something I want to tell you."
The study was so quiet that only the soft rustling of bamboo shadows brushing against the windowpane and the subtle sound of Chen Yanyun's fingertips caressing the teacup could be heard. He neither asked any questions nor urged him on, but simply lowered his eyes and slowly stirred the remaining tea in the cup with a whisk. The foam swirled in the celadon cup, much like Chen Xuanqing's turbulent emotions at that moment.
Chen Xuanqing stood in front of the table, his hands clenched tightly in his sleeves, his fingertips almost digging into his palms.
Having been reborn, he thought he was now able to bravely face his feelings and bravely fight for Gu Jinchao.
But now, facing her father's calm gaze, the courage she had mustered at the Gu residence deflated like a kite punctured by a needle. Her Adam's apple bobbed, but the words that reached her lips remained stuck in her throat.
"Father..." He opened his mouth, his voice surprisingly tense even to himself, "Son..."
He spoke, then immediately fell silent, as if afraid that uttering even one more word would reveal more of his inner turmoil. Moonlight streamed through the window screen, casting a long, thin shadow at his feet. The shadow trembled slightly, betraying his inner turmoil even before the expression on his face.
Chen Yanyun finally raised his eyes, his gaze falling on his tense shoulder line. His eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly, but he still didn't say anything. He simply placed the tea whisk gently on the rim of the cup, waiting for him to finish speaking.
"My son wants to break off the engagement with the Yu family..."
These words exploded like a thunderclap in the silent study. Before the words had even finished, Chen Yanyun suddenly looked up, his calm expression instantly replaced by fury.
He hurled the celadon cup, which had just been filled with leftover tea, at Chen Xuanqing with tremendous force.
The porcelain cup grazed Chen Xuanqing's forehead and crashed onto the bookshelf behind him with a loud bang. Shards of broken porcelain splattered all over the floor, and brown tea trickled down the wood grain of the bookshelf, soaking the covers of several ancient books.
Warm drops of blood slid down Chen Xuanqing's forehead, running along his brow bone and finally dripping onto his moon-white robe, leaving a small, dark stain. He seemed oblivious, neither raising his hand to wipe it away nor taking a step back, but staring intently at Chen Yanyun. All the stubbornness and determination he had suppressed earlier surged up with the stinging pain in his forehead.
The words that had been building up inside him could no longer be contained, as if they were about to burst from his chest. Meeting his father's furious gaze, his chest heaving violently, he repeated each word, his voice deeper and more resolute than before: "Your son wishes to break off the engagement with the Yu family. Please grant my request, Father!"
The study was eerily quiet, save for the heavy breathing of the two men. Chen Yanyun trembled with rage, pointing a finger at Chen Xuanqing, his lips moving several times before he managed to utter, "Do you know what nonsense you're spouting! The marriage agreement between the Chen and Yu families was arranged by your grandmother, a fact known to everyone in the court! You just want to back out like that? Do you want the Chen family to become a laughingstock in the capital, or do you want to make your father unable to hold his head high before the Emperor!"
Chen Xuanqing raised his hand and wiped the blood from his forehead. The crimson stain on his fingertips made his eyes shine even brighter, as if he had finally let go of all his worries: "I know the marriage is important, but Miss Yu is not the one I love. If we force them together, it will not only disappoint Miss Yu, but also wrong myself—more importantly, I already have someone else in my heart, and I cannot delay the Yu family any longer!"
"A stranger?" Chen Yanyun's eyes suddenly sharpened, his gaze like a knife chilled to ice, piercing straight into Chen Xuanqing, as if trying to dissect all the thoughts in his heart.
Chen Xuanqing's Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't flinch. He slowly straightened his back, his shoulders taut, and met his father's scrutinizing and furious gaze, saying each word in a deep voice, "Yes. In this life, I only wish to marry the woman I love. I do not wish to waste my time marrying a woman I do not love, only to add to my suffering."
These words, like a fine needle, unexpectedly pierced the tense atmosphere in the study and quietly pierced Chen Yanyun's heart.
He clenched his hands, hidden in his sleeve, until his knuckles turned white—were Chen Xuanqing's words also a reflection of himself? His marriage to his first wife was also arranged by his family. Although they later treated each other with respect, the word "beloved" was always a barrier. In the dead of night these past years, he would occasionally recall the unspoken feelings of his youth, and the regretful look in his wife's eyes as she looked at him before she passed away.
The study fell into a deathly silence; even the bamboo shadows outside the window seemed to stop swaying.
Chen Yanyun lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on the shattered porcelain shards scattered on the ground, his expression complex and unreadable.
There was anger, helplessness, and a hint of melancholy that even he himself was unaware of.
He remained silent for a long time, so long that a few more drops of blood trickled down Chen Xuanqing's forehead, soaking his clothes, so long that the candle wick burned down to a wick, bursting into tiny sparks.
After a long while, Chen Yanyun slowly raised his eyes. His voice was no longer filled with rage, but only with deep weariness. Looking at the stubbornness and expectation in his son's eyes, he finally relented: "Tomorrow, you will go to your grandmother and ask her to annul the engagement."
These words, though spoken lightly, struck Chen Xuanqing like a thunderclap.
He was stunned for a moment before he realized what his father meant—his father agreed!
The overwhelming joy that had been building up inside him surged up instantly. He forgot the pain in his forehead and the confrontation just now. He hurriedly bowed and said in a trembling voice, "Thank you, Father, for granting my request!"
Seeing his excited expression, Chen Yanyun felt a complex emotion flash across his eyes, but he didn't say anything more. He simply waved his hand and said, "Go down and let Chen Yi treat your wounds."
Chen Xuanqing bowed again before turning and leaving the study.
As he walked under the eaves, the evening breeze brushed against his cheeks, carrying a slight chill. Only then did he dare to raise his hand to touch the wound on his forehead—though it hurt, his heart felt as if it were burning with warmth.
He looked up at the moonlight on the horizon, and couldn't help but smile.
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