The night grew deeper, and the heavy dew froze into frost, silently blanketing the deathly quiet Side Courtyard of the Governor’s Mansion.
Qin Shu leaned against the cold wooden bed, wrapped in a stiff, thin quilt.
The burn on the back of her right hand had been treated with the ointment Jiang Chen had sent. It was wrapped in a clean but faded strip of cloth, while the cooling medicine barely suppressed the searing pain.
Her left hand tightly gripped the now-empty tin tube of burn ointment. The cold metal edges pressed into her skin, keeping her strangely clear-headed.
Floating Cloud lay curled up on the small couch at the foot of the bed, breathing steadily. The aloe vera and ointment had reduced the swelling on her face somewhat, but the dark purple finger marks remained painfully distinct, branded into Qin Shu’s heart like permanent scars.
Qin Yan’s venomous boasting during the day…
Floating Cloud’s tearful grievance…
The truth Nanny Zhang had revealed…
And the silent concern represented by the cold tin tube in her palm…
Countless fragments collided inside her mind before sinking into an endless sea of hatred burning with icy flames.
The paper window rustled beneath the cold wind. The faint bustle from the main courtyard had long since faded, leaving behind only deathly silence.
Qin Shu could not sleep.
Her deep brown eyes remained open in the darkness like two dried-up wells that reflected not the slightest trace of light.
Suddenly, a heavy, staggering set of footsteps approached from afar, breaking the stagnant silence of the Side Courtyard.
The footsteps were uneven and dragging, echoing hollowly over the damp stone path outside, accompanied by slurred muttering and rough breathing.
They were not the orderly footsteps of the night patrol.
Nor were they Uncle Li’s stiff, measured strides.
These footsteps…
They carried a strong smell of alcohol and the unmistakable danger of someone completely out of control.
Qin Shu’s body instantly tensed.
Her grip around the tin tube tightened so hard that her knuckles turned white.
Floating Cloud was awakened as well. She sat upright in terror, her eyes wide in the darkness.
Bang!
Something slammed violently against the courtyard gate.
Then came the grating sound of a key repeatedly scraping against the lock, missing the keyhole several times.
“Open the door… Open the damn… door…”
A hoarse, slurred male voice, thick with alcohol, sounded from outside, full of impatience and rage.
It was Xu Feng.
Floating Cloud clapped both hands over her mouth, too frightened to even breathe.
Qin Shu’s heartbeat suddenly accelerated, pounding against her chest like a battered drum struck by a heavy hammer.
Xu Feng…
Drunk…
In the middle of the night…
Why had he come here?
What was he planning to do?
An icy chill seized her, colder than the winter night itself.
Creak—
The rusted iron lock was finally forced open.
The courtyard gate was shoved inward with tremendous force, crashing against the damp stone wall.
A tall figure stumbled into the courtyard, bringing with him the pungent smell of liquor and the freezing night air.
Moonlight struggled through the clouds, faintly illuminating him.
His dark green military overcoat hung open, exposing the wrinkled shirt beneath. His shoulder insignia sat crooked.
His hair was disheveled, several damp strands clinging to his cold forehead.
One hand braced against the doorframe as he struggled to steady himself.
His hawk-like eyes, once razor-sharp, were now clouded by drunkenness and confusion as they wandered aimlessly through the dim courtyard.
“Where is everyone… Are they all dead?”
Xu Feng’s slurred voice carried the habitual authority of a man accustomed to command, made even more violent by alcohol.
His gaze finally settled upon the worn wooden door where faint candlelight escaped through the cracks.
Swaying unsteadily, he began walking toward the room.
Each heavy military boot landed on the frozen ground like a blow against Qin Shu’s taut nerves.
Bang!
He kicked the door open.
The wooden door slammed against the wall, shaking loose strands of dust from the ceiling.
The overpowering stench of alcohol instantly flooded the tiny room.
Xu Feng’s tall figure filled the doorway, blocking the pale moonlight behind him.
Squinting, he adjusted to the darker interior.
His eyes swept briefly over the trembling Floating Cloud before settling on Qin Shu, who sat curled against the head of the bed.
The instant he kicked the door open, Qin Shu had instinctively straightened her back.
She resembled a bow drawn to its absolute limit.
She raised her eyes to meet his drunken yet still piercing gaze.
There was no expression on her face.
No fear.
No pleading.
Only the stillness of stagnant water.
Beneath that stillness lay endless coldness.
The candlelight flickered within her deep brown eyes without bringing even the slightest warmth, making her pale face resemble an ice sculpture.
Xu Feng stared at her for several moments.
His eyes were unfocused with intoxication.
He looked at her overly thin cheeks.
Her tightly pressed, bloodless lips.
The loose strands of hair across her forehead glowing faintly beneath the candlelight.
For one brief, hazy instant…
That cold, stubborn face, pale with illness, seemed to overlap with a blurred figure buried deep within his memories—a figure long drowned beneath blood and fire.
That shadow…
Had once possessed eyes just like these.
Eyes that had shone with astonishing brilliance even in absolute despair.
A faint trace of confusion flickered through his drunken mind.
The fingers gripping the doorframe unconsciously tightened.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as though he wanted to say something.
But the heavy intoxication and the deeply rooted hatred he had harbored for so many years swallowed that fleeting ripple without a trace.
Just then—
A shrill, frantic female voice pierced the silence of the Side Courtyard as it rapidly approached.
“Governor! Governor, where are you? You frightened Yan’er to death!”
“Hurry! Find the Governor!”
The hurried footsteps and approaching lantern light quickly drew near.
It was Qin Yan.
She had brought her maids and several elderly servant women on night duty, all carrying lanterns as they rushed over in apparent panic.
Their lanterns instantly bathed the dark courtyard in wavering light.
Qin Yan immediately spotted Xu Feng standing in the doorway of the small room.
She also saw Qin Shu’s cold face illuminated by the candlelight inside.
A flash of vicious satisfaction crossed Qin Yan’s eyes.
Her scheme had worked.
Yet the next instant, her face became the picture of panic and grievance.
Like a gust of fragrant wind, she rushed forward and clung tightly to Xu Feng’s arm.
“Governor! Why did you come here? You frightened Yan’er to death! The hangover soup is already prepared, but no one could find you…”
She sobbed sweetly while pressing herself tightly against him, raising a delicate face full of tears.
“This place is cold and full of bad luck. How could someone as precious as you come here? You must have had too much to drink and taken the wrong path. Come back with Yan’er…”
As she spoke, she shot Qin Shu inside the room a venomous glare.
After Qin Yan threw herself into his arms, Xu Feng seemed even more intoxicated.
He irritably shook his head.
The heavy perfume and cosmetics Qin Yan wore completely erased the strange moment of confusion he had just experienced.
He lowered his gaze to Qin Yan’s beautiful, charming face, full of dependence and grievance.
Then he looked again at the woman inside.
She wore an old padded jacket.
Her complexion was pale.
Her eyes were cold.
Instantly, the familiar mixture of anger over having once been deceived and instinctive revulsion surged violently through him.
“Bad luck!”
Xu Feng violently flung Qin Yan’s hand away with such force that she stumbled.
His bloodshot eyes glared once more at Qin Shu.
His drunken fury and brutality erupted without restraint.
“You bitch! Get the hell away from me! Stop pretending to be some innocent ghost! Trying to seduce me? You’re not worthy!”
The words “trying to seduce me” struck Qin Shu like a poisoned whip.
Her grip around the tin tube tightened violently.
The cold metal nearly embedded itself into the flesh of her palm.
Her fingernails pierced through the old cloth wrapped around her burned hand.
The sting barely registered.
It was nothing compared to the freezing humiliation repeatedly trampling her heart.
Qin Yan immediately seized the opportunity.
“Exactly! Elder Sister!” she cried shrilly.
“You… you have absolutely no shame! The Governor was drunk, yet you actually… actually lured him into this filthy place! What are you trying to do? Are you trying to make the Governor catch an illness?”
She pointed accusingly at Qin Shu, speaking with righteous indignation as though she had uncovered an unforgivable crime.
The surrounding maids and elderly servants stood holding lanterns.
The shifting light illuminated faces filled with contempt, shock, or eager curiosity.
Their gazes pierced Qin Shu like countless needles.
Provoked by Qin Yan’s accusations, Xu Feng became even more enraged.
He cast one final disgusted glance toward the silent woman inside the room.
She remained as motionless as a stone statue.
Merely looking at her for another second seemed to soil his eyes.
He abruptly turned around, wrapped an arm roughly around Qin Yan’s waist, and pulled her against him with the possessiveness of a man venting his anger.
“Let’s go! Back to the room! Looking at her makes me sick!”
Holding Qin Yan against him, he staggered away.
His tall figure, surrounded by the overwhelming smell of alcohol and violent hostility, disappeared beyond the courtyard gate together with the swaying lanterns and Qin Yan’s sweet, complaining voice.
Bang!
The last elderly servant slammed the courtyard gate shut and locked it once more.
The harsh sound echoed through the silent night.
The lantern light faded into the distance.
The Side Courtyard once again sank into even deeper darkness and silence.
The freezing wind poured through the open doorway, making the tiny candle on the table flicker wildly as though it would be extinguished at any moment.
Floating Cloud had long since collapsed onto the floor in fright, covering her mouth as silent tears streamed down her face.
Qin Shu remained exactly where she was.
Her back stayed perfectly straight.
She resembled a stone statue frozen beneath endless ice and snow.
The pale candlelight danced across her bloodless face, outlining every cold contour.
Deep within her brown eyes…
The sea of icy hatred that had lain dormant after enduring yet another humiliation and baseless accusation finally erupted into towering waves.
Those waves no longer rolled silently.
They roared.
They battered the fragile embankment of her reason.
They carried the resolve to destroy everything.
Slowly, she lowered her head.
Her gaze fell upon her tightly clenched left hand.
The empty tin tube of burn ointment had already been crushed and twisted beneath her immense grip.
Its sharp edges had pierced through the cloth wrapped around her injured right hand and driven deeply into her palm.
Dark crimson drops of blood slid down the distorted metal tube…
One by one…
They dripped onto the cold, dust-covered stone floor.
She slowly opened her hand.
The twisted, bloodstained tin tube fell to the ground beside her feet.
Then she raised her injured right hand—the one that had been burned and further pierced by her own fingernails—and reached toward the flickering candle flame upon the table.
Molten wax flowed down the candle in burning streams, hardening into ugly scars along its sides.