Xi Ying's back slumped down, and tears hung suspended in mid-air on her round, jade-like face, forgetting to fall.
"Raise your head!"
Fukang'an's cold voice came from above Xia'er's head. Xia'er shivered and slowly raised her head, her eyes darting back and forth. Strands of hair near her ears were damp with sweat and clung to her temples, making her look pitiful.
Xi Ying gazed at Fukang'an's imposing figure, as solid as a stone. This was her husband, her everything. Back when the Irgen Jue Luo family fell into ruin, he, young and spirited, had taken her hands in his, his deep, dark eyes filled with boundless tenderness, and said, "Xi Ying, I am your husband! The Fucha family is your eternal support!" She was moved, her restless heart calmed by his gentle words.
He said it, and he did it.
If it weren't for him, Xi Ying's father would have been beheaded long ago, but thanks to the pleas of the Fucha family, he was only exiled to a harsh and cold frontier. So what if it's a harsh and cold place? There will be a day when she returns to the capital, as long as she stands firm as the general's wife.
So, in order to secure her position as the general's wife, she greeted Xiang'er with a smile and treated Yan Ning kindly, having long forgotten what she was originally like.
Autumn's chill and winter's desolation, a solitary lamp illuminates the lonely night. She had long forgotten the feeling of "a young lady in her chamber lamenting the passing of spring, her heart filled with sorrow and nowhere to release it." When she was all alone, she hid her bitter jealousy deep within her heart, smiling demurely and virtuously at the bronze mirror, smiling and smiling, and she no longer felt the bitterness in her heart. But when Fukang'an's figure hurried past Changting Garden, towards Furong Garden, towards Jiangongzhai, that bitterness still choked her throat.
Flowers bloom and fade, spring turns to summer. The vermilion pillars of the Changting Garden gate have faded from her touch, revealing the original wood beneath. She didn't have them restored to vermilion; leaving the pillars with their mottled colors serves as a reminder that she has gazed upon her beloved husband, with whom she shared such deep affection, for more than just a day or a year.
Now, everything is different from before. Xi Ying gazes at Fukang'an, hoping only for a sliver of love in his heart, just a sliver.
"If you utter a single lie, this general will not let you off lightly!"
Fukang'an's sharp gaze made Xia'er stammer, "If the general doesn't believe me, you can search Aunt Ying's cupboard. The cupboard has Yu Chunxin's fragrance on it; you can smell it if you sniff it closely!"
He didn't send anyone to search, nor did he need to. Since Xia'er dared to say that, it must be true.
Fukang'an stood with one hand behind his back, looking down at Xi Ying with a completely devoid of tenderness in his eyes. "Do you have anything else to say?"
Her hair was disheveled, tears streaming down her face, and the last glimmer of hope Xi Ying had for Fukang'an vanished. She licked her dry, bleeding lips, "If it were Yan Ning, if it were Yan Ning who committed these mistakes, how would the General have reacted? Would he have been so indifferent to our past marital bond?"
Xi Ying's voice was filled with hysterical despair, and her face showed a painful struggle.
Yan Ning's eyes followed Xi Ying's shout and turned to Fu Kang'an. She also wanted to know, if one day she made a mistake, if one day he discovered her identity, would he still remember the love they had shared when they first met?
Lifting a corner of his tortoiseshell red robe, Fukang'an sat upright in the main seat, his hand on the table tightly gripping Yan Ning's. With a blank expression, he instructed Zhao Xing, "Bring me brush and ink!"
Xi Ying's pale blue cheongsam slumped into a heap, seemingly without any support, frail and powerless. "Swallows roost in pairs last night, the lamp's back to the green screen. The fragrance fades, the rain subsides, the thin quilt is cold, yet not cold. So many days and nights, I waited for the General, forgetting to shed tears, just staring blankly until dawn. And yet, the General, with a letter of divorce, abandoned me without a second thought!" Her bitten lip bled again, lamenting that so many lonely nights of waiting had resulted in her current abandonment.
There had always been a swallow's nest under the eaves of the main house in Changting Garden, which she had never allowed the servants to touch. In the spring, swallows would roost in pairs every night. Gazing at her own black hair under the lamplight, she had thought she would grow old like this. Sometimes, the night rain would drizzle, and with the brocade quilt covering her, she couldn't tell whether it was the cold weather or her own heart that was cold.
Fukang'an grasped Yan Ning's hand and tightened his grip. A fleeting moment of pity flashed in his eyes, but it was only for a moment before his gaze returned to its icy, intimidating state. This brief instant caused Yan Ning's heart to tighten, and she frowned as she looked at Fukang'an beside her.
Zhao Xing nimbly carried the writing implements to the hall.
"Mother!"
Delin's childish voice rang out from outside the courtyard gate, and then his small figure ran into the main hall and threw himself into Xiying's arms. His tiny pink hands wiped away Xiying's tears, and he said in a tearful voice, "Mother, don't cry, Delin will protect you!"
Four-year-old Delin's sparse, shiny black hair was tied back, and his little braids, which just reached his neck, were a bit disheveled from running.
The wet nurse rushed in after them, bowing timidly to Fukang'an and Yan Ning, then lowered her head and vigorously twisted the black and gray satin jacket she was wearing.
Xi Ying hugged De Lin tightly in her arms; her son was her last lifeline.
Zhao Xing, holding the writing implements, stood to one side, unsure of what to do, and could only look to Fukang'an.
Yan Ning's hand was gripped more and more painfully by Fu Kang'an, so she wrapped her other hand around his bulging veins. She nodded at Zhao Xing, "Go down!"
Fukang'an glanced at her and met her faint smile.
Seeing Delin and Xiying together, Fukang'an's heart softened. Xiying had been divorced, and Delin's future parentage would certainly be questioned. He had already lost one son; he couldn't let another suffer.
He softened the fierce look in his eyes and beckoned to Delin. "Come here!"
Although Xi Ying didn't want to let De Lin go, she dared not let De Lin anger Fu Kang An again under these circumstances. She could only watch De Lin into Fu Kang An's arms with tearful eyes.
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