After accompanying Jiang Sui through the evening meal and watching her finish most of a plate of Crispy Yellow-Alone, Pei Zhiyu finally left with peace of mind, heading temporarily to the study to handle the day’s unfinished affairs.
The night dew was faintly cold, the autumn wind bleak, stirring his wide sleeves to roll like waves. But Pei Zhiyu’s expression remained unmoved, a layer of lingering warmth still shimmering in his eyes, lending him a touch of vitality.
Passing through the corridor, he lifted his head slightly and saw a familiar figure standing not far away.
The servants following behind tactfully withdrew, their footsteps rustling into the distance.
Pei Zhiyu’s breath grew soft, his expression cooling. After a pause, he stepped forward as if nothing were amiss and said in a gentle voice:
“Father, good evening.”
The lamplight beneath the corridor was dim and could not illuminate everything. Marquis Anping turned around at the sound, half his shoulder sinking into shadow, making his face appear even more cold and stern.
“Pei Zhiyu, do not forget the promise you made to me.”
His tone was hard and cold, entirely unlike a conversation between father and son—more like a direct command from a superior to a subordinate.
Pei Zhiyu’s expression remained calm, as if long accustomed to this. He even leaned idly against a corridor pillar:
“Father jests. Have I not been fulfilling that promise all along?”
A faint smile curved at the corner of his lips, but in his eyes half-hidden by the night lay a pool of ice. He gave Marquis Anping no chance to speak, continuing:
“If we speak of betrayal and broken faith, Father is the one most skilled at it, is he not?”
Marquis Anping’s face darkened inscrutably. After a few tense breaths, Pei Zhiyu suddenly spun aside with startling speed, dodging the palm strike that came at him.
The pillar behind him let out a creaking groan, faint cracks surfacing. Had that blow landed on his body, it would surely have dealt no small internal damage.
Pei Zhiyu chuckled lightly: “Father, did I say something wrong?”
Marquis Anping slowly withdrew his palm, letting out a cold, faint laugh:
“I never deceived you. Your mother was simply too fragile and took her own life. How could I have stopped her?”
Pei Zhiyu’s long brows sank, a shadow falling across his deep-set features, his emotions unreadable.
“Father, was it that you could not, or that you would not?”
Marquis Anping narrowed his eyes, not answering the question, and said coldly:
“Pei Zhiyu, I did not oppose this marriage of yours because I believed you could manage it well. As it stands now, I was wrong.”
“Your attention to her—it is too much.”
Pei Zhiyu’s expression, which had remained largely unruffled, stirred with a ripple the moment Marquis Anping mentioned Jiang Sui.
“I advise you not to waste your energy on matters of the heart.”
“No matter how much you hate me, you are still my son, a man cut from the same cloth as I. Is your mother’s lesson not enough for you?”
“Men like us should never harbor such thoughts. You put on this act before her now—how long can you keep it up?”
Pei Zhiyu said coldly: “…I have my own plans.”
Marquis Anping laughed lowly twice, whether in grief or subtle hatred, unclear:
“I know what you’re thinking. I have done the same. Let me tell you—it is impossible.”
“If you keep chasing such fancies, she will end up like your mother.”
“My son, think on it well.”
With that, he strode away, leaving Pei Zhiyu alone, standing still beneath the corridor.
The footsteps faded into the distance. It was a long while before Pei Zhiyu turned his head stiffly, his dark eyes fixed on the direction Marquis Anping had gone.
By now, there was only dim, empty darkness there.
He closed his eyes, suppressing the cold irritation in his heart, and walked once more toward the study.
But this time, his steps were slow and heavy, as if bound by shackles.
Would Suisui… end up like Mother?
Pei Zhiyu’s eyelids trembled, and images from five years ago surged unbidden into his mind.
He had rushed back to the manor, full of anticipation and joy, heading straight for his mother’s courtyard, calling out to her ceaselessly as he pushed open the door.
The room was eerily quiet, but he paid it no mind.
For a long time now, his mother had not allowed anyone to attend to her, and the courtyard held only the two of them. This kind of silence, Pei Zhiyu had grown accustomed to.
But in the past, Mother had never slept so soundly.
The joy in his heart was gradually replaced by a nameless unease that seized hold of him.
Unconsciously, he slowed his steps, his chest constricting with each beat as he walked toward the bedchamber, so tense he could barely breathe.
That feeling eased only slightly when he saw the figure lying on the bed.
The woman lay with her back to him, seemingly dozing.
Only… today’s attire was far more elaborate and solemn than usual.
Even as Pei Zhiyu let out a breath of relief, a greater shadow of dread settled over his heart.
He vaguely sensed something, yet refused to dwell on it. He only drew near and said softly:
“Mother, I’m back.”
The figure on the bed remained with her back to him, utterly unresponsive.
Pei Zhiyu’s lips twitched slightly, but his warm smile only grew more perfect, his voice gentle and calm:
“Mother… wake up.”
“I have persuaded Father. As long as I earn distinction and restore the marquisate, he will let you leave.”
His voice was so steady, yet the hand he extended trembled without cease as it rested on the woman’s shoulder. Almost hypnotizing himself, he continued to murmur:
“Mother, wake up quickly… The freedom you wanted—I’ve won it for you.”
“Don’t sleep anymore…”
The woman’s limp body was turned around by him.
His gaze abruptly collided with that most familiar face, now utterly devoid of life.
The carefully painted features, the dried black blood at the corner of her lips, lent a strange, eerie beauty to her cold stillness.
Pei Zhiyu unconsciously tightened his grip, a muscle in his cheek twitching violently, the light in his dark eyes suddenly extinguished.
Strangely, all the tension and anxiety he had felt before dissipated completely in that moment of confirmation.
His heart was as still as dead water, his very soul seeming to detach from his body, hovering high in the air, quietly watching his own dazed figure in the room, and the mother who lay dead before him.
Suddenly, his mother’s lifeless face blurred and twisted, and when it became clear again, it had transformed into Jiang Sui’s features.
Crack.
A sharp sound from somewhere unknown jolted Pei Zhiyu from his dark memories.
The night wind suddenly surged, whipping his robes into loud flapping sounds.
He lowered his head, covering his eyes, sharp pain stabbing at his temples, thick darkness churning in his dark pupils, almost spilling out.
But the image from his imagination—Jiang Sui’s lifeless, unfocused eyes—seemed to cling to his vision, refusing to fade.
Pei Zhiyu let out a muffled groan, like a trapped beast suppressing a pained roar, as a tidal wave of terror crashed through his chest.
No… no!
Absolutely not!
Suisui cannot die… Suisui will not die!
He would handle everything, everything… there was no way he would let Suisui find out.
He would never, ever let fear and despair appear in Suisui’s eyes.
He would never make her want to cry and flee from him.
As long as he could keep her, even if he had to pretend for a lifetime… what would be wrong with that?