9: Returning home
The rain had just ceased, and the night was cool as water.
Before the gates of the Prime Minister’s residence, the carriage slowly came to a halt. As Qiuying helped Qiao Shilian alight, she noticed her mistress’s drooping eyelids and weary expression, as if her spirits were low. Qiuying assumed it was due to the exhaustion of the journey.
Although Qiuying had found it strange that Su Zhuoguang had taken over driving the carriage, she supposed the bumpy ride had become unbearable for the young general.
In fact, Qiuying felt relieved. If their family’s carriage hadn’t broken down, forcing them to ride in the Su family’s carriage, her delicate and gentle mistress would have been alone with a man inside. What if she had been bullied or wronged? Qiuying couldn’t have been at ease.
Even if the man was the cold-faced general rumored throughout the capital to be indifferent and ascetic, Qiuying remained skeptical.
When it came to men stirred by passion, weren’t they all the same? She had seen plenty of wolves in sheep’s clothing. Indifferent? They just hadn’t tasted temptation yet.
Qiuying glanced at her mistress. Her beauty was as radiant as the autumn moon, like a distant mountain lotus, captivating with every frown or smile. She sighed inwardly—her mistress was pure-hearted and unaware of the world’s dangers. Fortunately, she was under the Crown Prince’s protection, and no other man dared to covet her. Her mistress had never been mistreated.
At this moment, Qiao Shilian was still preoccupied with the identity of the person who had attempted to take her life at the Luoxia Mountain villa. Since Su Zhuoguang had arrived in time to stop the assassin, perhaps he had some clues about the culprit.
Originally, she had planned to discuss this with Su Zhuoguang in detail inside the carriage. Who could have expected such an embarrassing incident would occur, leaving her at a loss for how to bring it up?
She clenched her fingers, forcing herself to remain calm as she bowed to Su Zhuoguang, who stood at a distance. “Thank you, Young General Su.”
No matter what, she needed to find an opportunity to speak with him, to uncover the truth and take precautions. Otherwise, with each passing night, her worries would only grow, robbing her of peace and sleep.
Fenglai glanced at Su Zhuoguang’s indifferent expression and quickly smoothed things over. “Miss Qiao, there’s no need for formalities.”
Qiao Shilian smiled softly. “You’ve had a long journey. Why not come inside for some hot tea before…”
“Unnecessary,” Su Zhuoguang coldly interrupted.
Seeing Qiao Shilian’s smile freeze, Fenglai hurriedly explained, “Ah, it’s like this—the general’s estate has a family rule requiring the master to return home before the third watch.”
“If that’s the case, then I won’t insist,” Qiao Shilian replied.
Then, lowering her voice, she asked Fenglai quietly, “About the assassin at the villa earlier…”
Fenglai understood. “Since the master has intervened in this matter, he won’t abandon it halfway.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”
Fenglai blinked. “But with the master this angry, it’s hard to say.”
Qiao Shilian: “…”
She looked toward that aloof figure, pressed her lips together, and, setting aside her embarrassment, called out to him from a distance, “Young General Su, once I’ve washed your robe, I will personally return it to your residence.”
That should give him no reason to refuse a meeting, right?
But his indifferent voice replied, “No need for the trouble. Fenglai will come to retrieve it.”
Qiao Shilian clenched her sleeve, frustrated yet helpless. After all, she was the one who had wronged him by taking liberties. It was only natural he was angry and unwilling to speak with her further.
Forget it. She would wait for the young general’s anger to subside and find another way to discuss that matter with him.
The night shadows were fading, and the candlelight flickered dimly.
When Qiao Shilian entered the residence, she sent a servant to inform her parents at Songfeng Courtyard, explaining that she was tired from the journey home and would first return to her own Huaiyu Courtyard to bathe and rest. She would pay her respects to her parents early the next morning.
Inside her bedroom, the glow of lanterns filled every corner, bright and clear.
After helping Qiao Shilian wash up, Qiuying stepped away briefly to fetch something. When she returned to the bedroom mere moments later, she was startled by the overwhelming brightness and the strong scent of lamp oil that assailed her.
“Young Miss! Why have you lit so many lanterns?”
“I thought it was too dark.”
Qiao Shilian lay quietly on the bed. Seeing Qiuying about to extinguish a few lanterns, she stopped her. “Don’t touch them. I’m going to sleep now. Leave them lit just like this.”
Qiuying was puzzled. She sensed that her mistress seemed different from the day before.
If she had to trace it back, it likely started when her mistress was suddenly frightened in the villa pavilion during the day. She remembered her mistress wasn’t afraid of insects. And now, her mistress, who had never been afraid of the dark, insisted on lighting so many lanterns.
As a maid, she always obeyed her mistress’s commands, so she didn’t dare ask further and withdrew from the room with a bow.
Outside the window, the wind occasionally rustled through falling blossoms. Inside the room, the living glow of the lanterns flickered uncertainly between brightness and shadow.
Qiao Shilian tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
After the incident at the villa, she was utterly exhausted, yet returning to the sights and objects she had lived with for over a decade filled her with overwhelming turmoil.
All the way home from Luoxia Mountain, she had been thinking: once back at the residence, how should she face her parents? She couldn’t escape the tragic outcome of her past life, nor could she overcome the barrier in her heart.
The Qiao family had raised and nurtured her for so many years, caring for her with utmost devotion. Beyond the debt of her upbringing, she truly respected and loved her parents. Yet, it was precisely because of this that, during her years as a wandering spirit, she felt increasingly desolate and unable to find peace.
In truth, it wasn’t that they didn’t love her. It was just that, in their hearts, she was never their first priority.
Qiao Qingsong would sacrifice her for the sake of the Qiao family, and Madam Qiao would abandon her for the sake of reputation. As for Qiao Shiqing, she had learned after her death that her elder brother had been unable to accept her passing. He had shut himself away and mourned for three days, but afterward, he had no choice but to bury the matter deep in his heart, never daring to mention it again—because, to him, the filial duty of obeying their father held greater weight.
Everyone she had loved and trusted in this world had abandoned her. In the end, it was a stranger she had met only twice who had sought justice for her. Wasn’t that ironic?
Now, back in the very place where she had died in her past life and recalling it all, Qiao Shilian felt her chest tighten unbearably, her throat aching with unshed tears. That sense of helplessness and despair crept back into her heart, leaving her with nowhere to hide, no escape.
Only the gently flickering, eternal lanterns remained, silent and still.
The Su Residence, General’s Estate
As Su Zhuoguang stepped out of the carriage, a servant hurried over, reporting that General Su had been waiting for him in the main hall for quite some time.
Upon entering the hall, Su Zhuoguang saw his father, Su Zheng, sipping tea with his head lowered. A deep, resonant voice soon broke the silence:
“I heard His Highness the Crown Prince has sent you quite a few more concubines.”
Su Zhuoguang’s brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t need them.”
Su Zheng wasn’t surprised by this response. He then took a booklet from his sleeve. “Today, when I entered the palace, your aunt gave me this list. It contains the names of gentle and virtuous young ladies from official families in the capital. Take it and choose one you like. If there’s one that catches your eye, I’ll send a matchmaker to propose.”
With that, Su Zheng handed over the booklet, gesturing with his eyes toward Fenglai behind Su Zhuoguang.
Su Zhuoguang’s gaze darkened, and he stopped Fenglai in his tracks, his voice icy as he repeated, “I said I don’t need it.”
Fenglai was caught in a dilemma—whose orders should he follow? But seeing Su Zheng’s increasingly grim expression, he knew that tonight’s conversation between father and son was unlikely to end amicably.
Su Zheng slammed his teacdown onto the table with a thud, splashing tea everywhere.
He rose and strode over to Su Zhuoguang, his voice filled with anger. “Zhuoguang, do you think your father can’t control you anymore? All these years you were in the northwest, I never interfered. But now that you’re back in the capital, do you still think you’re the commander of the military camp, able to do as you please?”
“This is my personal matter, not a military affair,” Su Zhuoguang replied calmly, his gaze dark and intense, emotions churning beneath the surface.
“Personal matter? I’m your father! How can I not manage your personal matters?” Su Zheng, having spent years on the battlefield, was rough around the edges and straightforward by nature.
He merely glanced at Fenglai, who was standing stiffly to the side. Knowing Su Zheng’s temper was flaring, Fenglai reluctantly stepped forward and took the booklet from his hand.
“I won’t choose,” Su Zhuoguang remained unmoved.
Su Zheng glared at Su Zhuoguang’s unchanging expression, forcing down the raging fury in his chest. “Do you plan to spend your whole life resenting me and never marry?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Su Zhuoguang replied indifferently.
Seeing Su Zheng’s anger intensify, Su Zhuoguang took a step forward, deliberately slowing his tone as he asked in a low voice, “Marry someone, only to kill them with my own hands?”
His voice was icy to the extreme, like solid ice buried deep in snow, never seeing the light of day—chilling to the hear, as if frost had settled over one’s body.
Slap!
A crisp sound of a slap echoed through the hall, causing the candle flames to flicker violently.
Su Zheng lowered his numb hand, watching as Su Zhuoguang turned his face to the side, bearing the blow. A red mark quickly bloomed on his cheek, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. Only his eyes remained cold and stubborn.
Su Zheng had been furious, and the slap had been far from light. Su Zhuoguang could have dodged it or used his inner strength to protect himself, avoiding such injury, but he had chosen to endure it without a word.
Su Zheng couldn’t help but curl his fingers, his heart softening slightly. Yet when he raised his hand to touch his son’s face, he withdrew it.
After all these years, Su Zhuoguang still resented him.
That year, when the Su family was stationed at the border, the war situation was dire. Madam Su donned military armor and fought on the front lines, protecting the people as if they were her own children. But she was captured by enemy forces and used as leverage against Su Zheng. In the end, Su Zheng drew his bow and shot an arrow, killing his own wife with his own hands.
Su Zhuoguang, only seven years old at the time, knelt in the yellow sand, overwhelmed with grief and hatred, watching his mother die before his eyes. All hope in his heart was extinguished.
From then on, the relationship between father and son became as cold as ice.
Su Zhuoguang left home at the age of fourteen, traveling alone from the capital to a military camp in the northwest. He was gone for six years. During that time, he sent letters home stating that if General Su came to disturb him, he would take his own life on the gravelly Gobi Desert where his mother had died.
Su Zheng felt deeply weary. He turned his back, hands clasped behind him, gazing distantly at the faint stars outside the window, his eyes vacant and lost.
“It’s late. Fenglai, escort the young general back to his courtyard.”
The long night was quiet, with only a gentle breeze and the faint, incessant chirping of insects.
Fenglai followed behind Su Zhuoguang like a quail, not daring to make a sound.
At the moment, he was clutching two items in his hands, hesitating over whether he should mention them to his master. In his right hand was the booklet Su Zheng had given him, while in his left hand was a golden-tasseled hairpin adorned with flowers.
This hairpin was something he had picked up inside the carriage earlier, and apart from Qiao Shilian, it could belong to no one else.
After much internal struggle, Fenglai tentatively spoke up: “Mas… Master.”
“You can throw away what’s in your hands,” Su Zhuoguang said without looking back as he headed toward his room.
“But… but this is…” Fenglai lowered his gaze to the hairpin pressing against his palm, not daring to ask further.
After all, Miss Qiao had just angered his master. If he brought up her hairpin now, who knew what the consequences might be?
Fenglai felt that he must have forgotten to check the almanac today. One thing after another had happened, making him feel that his early demise wasn’t far off.
Su Zhuoguang assumed Fenglai was worried about being scolded by Su Zheng. “If Father asks, say it was my order.”
As he entered the room and removed his hairpin and crown, he noticed Fenglai still lingering outside the screen.
“But… but…” Fenglai struggled to get the words out.
“Can’t you understand?” Su Zhuoguang’s tone grew colder.
“Should… should Miss Qiao’s hairpin be thrown away as well?” Fenglai finally managed to ask.
**