Chapter 102 Under the peach blossoms year after year, I'll share this life with you. ...
Qiao Niang's hair was neatly styled in a bun, and her green silk jacket with lotus leaves and orchid belt made her look even more delicate. Suddenly, a pair of hands with distinct knuckles came from behind and encircled her waist.
The man's chin gently rested against the crook of her neck, instantly enveloping her.
She suppressed the fear in her heart, and mimicking that delicate voice, she called out in a trembling voice, "Xuan...Xuan Xu..."
Zhang Mingxu closed his eyes, but he wasn't captivated. He only felt annoyed by the trembling in that call.
He suddenly opened his eyes, grabbed Qiaoniang's chin, and forced her to look up at him: "Three months have passed, and you can't even imitate three-tenths of her charm? You tremble like a leaf when you even address her?"
Qiao Niang cried out in pain as his fingers pinched her.
"Can't you be a little more assertive?" Zhang Mingxu's voice suddenly rose. "Everyone in the Zhang household acts according to my wishes. But you, you can't even please me?"
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she hurriedly raised her hand to wipe them away, but he sternly stopped her: "Cry! All you do is cry!" He shoved her chin away, his tone full of disgust, "When Yan'er accompanied me to banquets back then, even in the presence of princes and nobles, she never cowered like this. How are you any different from a sparrow begging for mercy under the eaves?"
"It seems that jade must be carved to become a gem. Granny Yan is too kind-hearted. Next time, let Granny Liang discipline you!"
Qiao Niang suddenly looked up, her eyes filled with fear. The scene of being tortured by Granny Liang instantly flooded her mind. She hurriedly shook her head, about to beg for mercy, when suddenly the hurried footsteps of servants came from the corridor.
"My lord, we heard that you are requesting an audience outside, saying that you have important matters to report." The attendant stood bowing not far away, not daring to raise his head.
Upon hearing the words "Lord Wen," Qiao Niang quickly wiped away her tears with her sleeve.
Zhang Mingxu's expression softened slightly, and he simply replied, "I know." He then reached out and grabbed Qiaoniang's wrist, leading her towards the study: "Come with me to the study to grind ink."
He wasn't worried at all that Qiaoniang would say something inappropriate when she saw Wen Shiqin.
Wen Shiqin, during his previous assignment to investigate a case, was so straightforward that he offended a group of powerful figures who wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible. The evidence he had gathered during the investigation, along with his own path to advancement, were all in Wen Shiqin's hands.
In their previous meetings, she had always acted flawlessly. Zhang Mingxu had already stated that if she could stay quietly in the mansion and play the role he desired, he would guarantee Wen Shiqin's promising career and protect his life from the underhanded tactics of those powerful figures.
Upon entering the study, Zhang Mingxu sat down directly at the desk and pointed to the inkstone: "Grind the ink."
Qiaoniang lowered her eyes and stepped forward to do as she was told.
She kept her gaze fixed on the inkstone and ink stick on the table, not allowing it to wander.
Even though her sharp ears caught the approaching footsteps outside the door, even though she knew a burning gaze was fixed on her face, even though that familiar voice rang out at the door, she only lowered her head and pressed the ink stick, following the method taught by Granny Yan, slowly grinding the ink in a clockwise direction.
The inkstone contained a recently acquired Huizhou ink, its surface engraved with delicate cloud patterns. When grinding it, it emitted a faint scent of pine soot. She ground it with even pressure, producing a thick yet smooth ink that pooled into a deep black pool in the inkstone.
Suddenly, a purple-tipped brush reached out from the side, its tip lightly touching the ink. Zhang Mingxu's voice carried a deliberate gentleness: "Although there are servants in the manor who regularly grind ink, they always lack a certain degree of precision. These days, only the ink you grind is just the right consistency, making it easier and more reassuring for me to write when I hold the brush."
Qiaoniang slowed down her grinding motions, looked up to meet his gaze, and smiled faintly.
Just then, a servant rushed in from outside, his voice hushed: "Sir, the Taoist priest is here again, requesting an audience in the outer room."
She knew all along that whenever this Taoist priest came, Zhang Mingxu never allowed anyone else to be present; he always wanted to meet him alone. Sure enough, upon hearing this, Zhang Mingxu got up, and as he passed by her, he suddenly reached out and gently put his arm around her waist, bringing his face close to her ear, his tone like that of an intimate caress between husband and wife: "I'll be right back. Stay in the study, don't wander around, and don't talk nonsense."
Qiao Niang stiffened and nodded slightly.
After Zhang Mingxu left with his servants, she followed behind him, seeing him off for a couple of steps, before stopping when she saw the figure in black turn into the corridor.
Wen Shiqin was still in the study, and she didn't dare to look up at him from beginning to end.
In the season when flowers bloom and willows sway, the warm breeze is intoxicating, yet also brings tears to one's eyes.
"Sister." A familiar voice sounded from behind, tinged with worry. "It's windy here, why don't you go back inside?"
Qiao Niang raised her hand to press the corner of her eye, and after catching her breath for a while, she slowly turned around, her voice calm and even: "It's nothing. Aren't you always busy investigating cases lately? How come you have time to come to the manor?"
Wen Shiqin gave a self-deprecating laugh: "If we're talking about the case, it could be explained in just a few words. I came to the manor simply to see my elder sister more often. Ever since you married into the Zhang family, you've become increasingly cold towards me. Could it be that once a daughter is married, she's like water spilled from a cup, and she doesn't even recognize her own brother anymore?"
Qiaoniang longed to look up and tell him no, and longed to grab his sleeve and say, "Take me away."
But then, images from the past flashed through her mind: his youthful spirit, holding her hand and saying he wanted to serve the people, that he would report corruption to the Censorate, that he would make a name for himself in the officialdom, and that he would protect her for a lifetime.
Now, his life and the future he's fighting so hard for are all in Zhang Mingxu's hands. If she reveals even the slightest flaw, she'll cut off his path.
Qiaoniang took a deep breath and said calmly, "A woman follows her husband after marriage. From now on, we will follow the rules and only see each other during festivals. I am doing very well in the Zhang family. Lord Zhang is fond of me and has promised me the position of his principal wife. I am grateful. The day I met him, I knew that he was someone I could entrust my life to."
Wen Shiqin stood frozen in place, his whole body stiff.
"Yes, yes... A woman follows her husband after marriage... It's such a simple principle, yet I was too foolish to understand it." His tone betrayed his disappointment. "Perhaps it's because I've been too dependent on my elder sister, still longing for the days when we depended on each other in the embroidery alley. Now that my elder sister has married a good husband and has a stable home, I, as her younger brother, have become superfluous. Compared to Lord Zhang, I am naturally inferior."
Hearing the disappointment in his words, Qiaoniang felt as if her heart was being pricked by needles, but she could only say, "You are now an official of the court, and you should have your own future to pursue. You don't need to keep thinking about me. It's getting late, you should go back to your residence soon."
Only after that figure disappeared into the depths of the red gate did she dare to cry out.
As she cried, Su Jinxiu's consciousness gradually returned to the surface, like water slowly rising from the depths.
She could clearly feel herself lying down, warm liquid constantly sliding down her cheeks—unending tears. She wanted to raise her hand to wipe them away, but her consciousness seemed trapped by an invisible barrier, unable to command her body.
The darkness before my eyes was still profound, yet my mind was unusually clear.
Those long-forgotten memories are now surging back like a tidal wave.
She was Su Qiaoniang, and Su Qiaoniang was always her.
It was merely a soul that entered the cycle of reincarnation after its death, living a mundane life in the modern world for eighteen years. Now, for some unknown reason, it has returned to its original body and come back to this world.
No wonder she instinctively responded when people called her "Qiaoniang" upon her arrival. No wonder she could quickly learn to tie hairpins, do hair ornaments, and do needlework, adapting to the local customs as if they were innate. No wonder she always felt in her midnight dreams that the bustling traffic and flashing neon lights of modern life were like a fleeting illusion, lacking any sense of reality.
So that's how it is, so that's how it is.
She never left; she was just briefly lost.
Su Jinxiu's consciousness had barely cleared for a moment before she inevitably fell back into that ending soaked in blood and tears.
In her final days at the Zhang residence, she was tormented to the point that only fear remained in her eyes, and she was increasingly unlike Chang Yueyan. Zhang Mingxu quickly grew tired of her and found several women who were not as beautiful but were willing to submit to him for money, leaving her in a cold courtyard, which gave her the opportunity to escape.
But how did she die?
Just as consciousness was about to grasp that fragment, it plunged back into chaos and darkness.
Fragmented memories struggled to emerge, piecing together the days before the escape.
Since the last time he told Achin in the study that they would "see each other again during holidays," he has indeed come less often.
Although she lived in a secluded courtyard in the Zhang residence, she was once the mistress of the house, and when she occasionally went out, she could always hear the servants chatting in private. In addition, she used to go to the study to grind ink, and she could also glean some information about Wen Shiqin from the conversations between Zhang Mingxu and his subordinates.
They said his career had been incredibly smooth, but his personality had drastically changed, turning him into a stubborn and obsessive person. Rumors circulated in the capital that, to curry favor with his benefactor and solidify his own career, he had used underhanded means to send his sister to his benefactor's household. They said that after gaining the emperor's favor, he became increasingly arrogant, impeaching only his political enemies, and had long lost the youthful spirit of speaking out for the people he once possessed. They also said he had amassed a considerable fortune, bought a luxurious mansion on the Imperial Street, and lived a life of extreme extravagance.
Su Jinxiu never believed these words. She always thought that even if the rumors were true, it was probably just that people who had gained power and influence developed a vengeful nature to protect themselves.
Now that Zhang Mingxu has grown tired of her and doesn't care much about her, and Aqin has regained his own power, he probably won't be threatened anymore.
But their first attempt to escape ultimately failed.
She had barely climbed over the back wall when she was caught by patrolling servants and locked in the servants' woodshed, where she was denied food for days. Undeterred, she tried to escape again during a break while delivering water, but was caught once more, thoroughly enraging Zhang Mingxu.
Zhang Mingxu didn't kill her, perhaps because he was worried that Wen Shiqin's power was growing, and if he really dealt with her in the mansion, it would be difficult to handle if Wen Shiqin questioned him later. With the New Year approaching, he suddenly relented and had servants send him warm clothes and prepare exquisite meals for him every day.
She sensed something was amiss and, taking advantage of the chaos of New Year's Eve vigil, escaped from the mansion once again.
Daring not to take the main road, she ran only towards the western suburbs. The cold wind stung her face, and her embroidered shoes were already worn through and bleeding. As she got further and further away from the Zhang residence, a glimmer of hope rose in her heart, but her foot suddenly slipped, and she was completely plunged into boundless darkness.
A tremendous surge of grief and indignation, like a tidal wave crashing against the shore, abruptly pulled Su Jinxiu out of the darkness.
She sat up abruptly, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. Once her breathing had calmed down, she looked around and realized that she was in the meditation room behind Tanjing Temple.
The dizziness from tumbling down the hillside hadn't completely subsided when she looked down and saw the Embroidery Alley Miscellany on her pillow. Trembling slightly, she opened it, and line after line of writing came into view—the truth from Wen Shiqin's perspective.
The book's detailed account of his treacherous nature is chilling: originally a commoner, a promising young man of unpolished talent, he transformed into a vengeful and wicked official after entering public service. To secure his own favor, he gave his sister to his benefactor; after her death, he showed no grief at her funeral, not even shedding a tear, only coldly remarking on her ill fate. He framed colleagues, fabricated charges to imprison people, and used impeachment of political enemies to eliminate dissidents—committing every imaginable evil.
But hidden deep within the pages of the book lies a secret unknown to anyone.
Those so-called framing were actually orchestrated by the emperor in secret. Because of his humble origins and lack of powerful family connections, he became the emperor's most convenient tool. He was used to eliminate dissident forces in the court, and once the goal was achieved, all the blame was placed on him, making him a treacherous minister who had misled the emperor, while the emperor himself gained the reputation of being a wise ruler who had been deceived.
His merits and demerits were recorded in history books, but he was infamous for all time.
The book recounts that on the night of his sister's burial, he secretly returned, pried open the coffin, and found her covered in bruises and welts, emaciated and unrecognizable. Later, after much effort, he learned of the torture she had suffered in the Zhang family mansion. He then secretly laid a trap, not seeking Zhang Mingxu's swift death, but only wanting him to experience the same suffering his sister had endured, to waste his remaining life in endless torment, thus avenging his deep-seated hatred.
Even the ending he left to the world was a carefully crafted piece of evidence: his evil deeds were exposed, he was denounced by his colleagues, and he fled to his old residence in Xiuxiang to atone for his sins.
No one knew how he navigated the treacherous waters between the powerful and wealthy, seemingly currying favor, yet secretly advocating for relief for the displaced and submitting confidential memorials for unjustly accused scholars. Behind unseen, he performed countless acts of kindness for the people. No one knew that after avenging his sister's blood feud, he had nothing left to care about in this world. He returned to that old house filled with memories, gazing at the familiar alleyways outside the window, recalling his sister mending his clothes, before slowly raising his hand to end the burden he carried for eternity.
Whether someone knows me or condemns me, is it only history that decides?
Su Jinxiu hastily gathered her clothes together, then noticed a plain-colored cloak draped over the bed, presumably prepared for her. She quickly wrapped it around herself and rushed out the door.
At the courtyard gate, Qingxuan was sweeping the ground with a bamboo broom. Seeing her come out, he stopped and said gently, "Young lady, you're awake? There's some ginseng soup that Young Master Wen just heated up inside..."
She wouldn't listen to any of that. After asking about Wen Shiqin's whereabouts, she ran all the way towards the mountain gate.
So he carried the memories of his past life all along? His deliberate hatred for Zhang Mingxu wasn't without reason. His constant talk about fearing she would be bullied wasn't just empty words. All his irrationality stemmed from the regret of his past life, his desperate attempt to protect her in this life and prevent her from repeating the same mistakes.
Before she fainted, it was still chilly in early spring, and the snow on the steps had not yet melted, but now the peach blossoms all over the mountain were in bloom.
Pink and white petals adorn the gnarled branches, and when the wind blows, they fall in a flurry, like a sky full of flying catkins, enveloping the blue stone steps and winding mountain road in a hazy peach blossom cloud.
Su Jinxiu had no time to ponder the strangeness of this sequence of events. She simply followed the mountain path in her memory and ran downhill, her throat choked with sobs, calling out again and again, "Aqin, Aqin, where are you?"
Deep in the peach grove, Wen Shiqin was squatting on the ground, carefully examining the excellent herb that Qingxuan had mentioned.
Suddenly, a familiar voice drifted on the wind, choked with sobs, calling out "Aqin" again and again.
He looked up abruptly, quickly brushed the dirt and grass clippings off his palms, and ran towards the exit of the peach grove following the call, urgently calling out, "Sister! I'm here!"
Su Jinxiu caught sight of that pale figure in the distance, and her pace quickened. She ran so fast that she tripped over a fallen peach branch and stumbled, falling heavily onto the petal-strewn stone steps. Ignoring the pain in her knee, she pushed herself up and ran on.
Seeing her so eager, Wen Shiqin quickened his pace to meet her. The moment she lunged at him, he stretched out his long arm and steadily lifted her up, lifting her feet off the ground. He held her tightly in his arms, while his other hand gently patted her back, just as always.
Su Jinxiu buried her face in his neck, the familiar scent of him lingering around her nose. Tears she had held back for so long finally streamed down her face: "Aqin... is this real? Am I still dreaming?"
“It’s not a dream, sister, I’m really here.” Wen Shiqin lowered his head, his warm breath brushing against the top of her head, his hand still gently patting her back, just like when she was wronged in the embroidery alley back then, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.”
Su Jinxiu buried her face in his neck, her sobs broken and her voice trembling: "I'm so afraid this is an illusion... In my dreams... in my dreams everything is just like before. You're hunched over your desk reading the Analects, and I'm sewing that long gown for you, laughing at the crooked stitches. I dreamt that Zhang Mingxu locked me in the cold courtyard of the Zhang mansion, on a winter night without charcoal, I wrapped myself in tattered cotton and thought of you, remembering how you used to put the hand warmer in my hands. I dreamt that you later became a villain in history books, and street children sang songs cursing you. I wanted to rush out and defend you, but I didn't even have the strength to speak. I also dreamt that you were in the old house in the embroidery alley, staring blankly at a dagger... Ah Qin, these dreams weighed me down so much, but thankfully I woke up and saw you, thankfully you're still here."
Wen Shiqin's heart sank as he listened, and he tightened his grip on her arms. He turned his head and whispered in her ear, "Sister, I'm sorry. My obsession was too deep. I actually dragged you back to this world, even though you had already gone to another. Even that notebook was a manifestation of my obsession. Did you see it? It asked you to expose my reputation as a treacherous official?"
He gently moved a half-inch away from her and tenderly wiped away her tears: "But why do I care what the world says? What I want to reveal is not the me in the eyes of the world, but the me in your heart."
The notebook lying open beside his pillow in the quiet room had already vanished into tiny specks of light the moment Su Jinxiu finished reading the last word, just like his past obsessions that no longer needed to be mentioned.
Ke Wenshiqin's eyes still held an unyielding sense of guilt: "Sister, I'm so sorry. I couldn't protect you before, and you suffered so much in the Zhang family. After death, because of this obsession, I disturbed your peace in the cycle of reincarnation, and dragged you into this entanglement for so many years."
Su Jinxiu raised her hand and covered the back of his hand, tilting her head slightly: "I'm willing."
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the peach grove, and peach petals, like snowflakes, fell in a soft rustling sound.
She reached out and smoothed his wind-blown hair: "I should thank you for your persistence, which gave us a chance to start over."
Wen Shiqin pulled her into his arms again, this time without any haste, only with a peaceful and cherished feeling.
He lowered his head and gently placed a kiss on the top of her head. His voice, mingled with the soft rustling of the wind and petals, reached her ears clearly: "Sister, from now on, year after year, I will never be separated from you again. The old house in Embroidery Lane is still there. After some time, when you have recovered, if you wish to travel to famous mountains and rivers, I will accompany you. If you feel tired, we will go back."
"Let's plant your favorite crabapple trees in the yard, and in spring they'll bloom in crimson. I'll still read under the eaves as before, and you can do needlework by the window, okay?"
Su Jinxiu nestled in his arms and replied, "Okay."
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