Shen Molan’s heart sank further when he saw that the person who came out wasn’t Feng Wuhen. However, upon hearing the old man’s question, a flicker of hope reignited within him, “Uncle Fang, it’s me… I came a bit late. How… How is he?”
The old man remained silent for a long while before slowly replying, “Come in with me…” With that, he turned and led the way back inside.
Shen Molan couldn’t decipher the meaning behind the elderly man’s clouded eyes, which seemed to hold a deep significance. But that didn’t matter anymore. Nearly overjoyed, he followed the old man into the room—
“Feng…”
His words stopped.
The room’s furnishings were just as they had been before. But it was empty.
The only difference was the two lit incense candles on the table and a nameless memorial tablet. The wax dripped slowly, like someone’s tears, causing Shen Molan to tremble involuntarily.
He remembered that purple sandalwood table— that was Feng Wuhen’s favorite.
Purple sandalwood was rare and expensive, nearly impossible to obtain these days. Feng Wuhen had once spoken to him excitedly about how he had managed to buy that table at a high price, leaving his competitor frustrated when they couldn’t outbid him. Shen Molan, tired of his rambling, had pushed Feng Wuhen onto that very table at the time, even remembering the beads of sweat falling onto its intricate patterns. The purple sandalwood… really was quite beautiful.
Nonetheless, the table remained while Feng Wuhen was gone.
Instead, it had been replaced by two ominous incense sticks and… a memorial tablet?
A memorial tablet… whose tablet? Why are there no words on it?!
Shen Molan’s teeth chattered as he spoke, his voice tremolous, “What… does this mean? Where… is he?”
The old steward stood silently behind him, watching Shen Molan’s expressions change before finally saying, “Master… left behind a final letter, asking this old servant to tell you—”
“He’s gone to travel the world, to enjoy himself… Perhaps, Master Shen, you may never meet him again in this life.”
Shen Molan had been right.
Feng Wuhen had indeed told many lies in his life.
And the last lie Feng Wuhen told him was merely to give Shen Molan some peace of mind for the rest of his days.
But the old steward, unwilling to let him be deceived, showed Shen Molan the scene inside, and only then, with quiet cruelty, politely revealed the manor lord’s clumsy lie.
The wind blew, causing the candle wax to drip.
The old steward gazed silently at the young man’s back, unsure whether Shen Molan understood what had just been said.
Shen Molan stared wordlessly at the blank memorial tablet and the slow, broken drips of wax. After what felt like an eternity, he finally found his voice again.
“Why… didn’t he want to stay at Feng Manor?” Visit g.com for the full chapter.
It seemed he had believed the old steward’s words, or maybe he felt it all made sense now. In the end, he could only muster this one question.
The old steward hadn’t expected such a question and was momentarily stunned before replying, “Master… knew he didn’t belong to Feng Manor.”
“…”
“Though he was the sole heir to Feng Manor, there was no one to care for him. Master Shen, having grown up alongside Master, surely you could see that,” the old steward said.
Shen Molan thought back to his cold and distant mother, silently nodding in agreement.
“…It was widely known that Miss Mu and the former manor lord were in love. So why didn’t they care for their only son? Emotionally and logically, it just doesn’t make sense…” the old steward continued, his voice tinged with sorrow. “Until one day, I overheard something—”
The old steward paused briefly, then said in a flat tone, “Wuhen wasn’t the son of the former manor lord. Miss Mu had too many enemies in her youth and was once captured and assaulted by a villain… that’s how Wuhen was conceived.”
Shen Molan froze.
“…Afterward, Miss Mu lost the ability to bear children. The former manor lord loved her and never remarried, so Wuhen became the sole heir to Feng Manor. They made him study every day so that he could one day inherit the estate, but they cared little about anything else. I remember he initially didn’t want to return. The former manor lord had to knock him unconscious and bring him back by force. I was there at the time and saw him try to escape time and time again, only to fail each time…”
The old steward’s voice faltered as if speaking had become an immense struggle. He was silent for a long time before continuing, “The servants and guards of Feng Manor were there merely to keep him from escaping. Later, after Wuhen became the manor lord, he dismissed many of them. I, having watched him grow up and feeling guilty about the former manor lord’s actions, volunteered to stay behind.”
The old man’s voice was heavy with regret.
“The young master may not have known the truth about his origins, but deep down, he always knew he didn’t belong at Feng Manor. He would often talk about you to the servants, and once he gained his freedom, he rushed to see you. Master Shen, you were the only person the young master truly cared about. This old servant saw it long ago… But sadly…” Sadly, the wood yearns for the tree, but the tree does not reciprocate. Love, in the end, was never mutual.
Shen Molan staggered slightly, his lips twisting into a smile that looked grotesque under the dim candlelight.
Feng Wuhen cared about him? Every time he came and went, he treated emotions as a joke, used them to bargain for Chen Shaoqing’s life, and was always so flippant, never showing sincerity. How could anything he said or did be true?
How could that be caring?
How could it… be love?
He had never shown him a kind face.
Shen Molan had thought he saw through him, believing that every action was calculated, every word had ulterior motives.
He remembered that time in the capital when they met, and Feng Wuhen told him he had finally come because his parents had passed away… He found it laughable at the time, thinking Feng Wuhen’s words were contradictory, senseless, as if he were treating him like a fool. He ignored the starlit gaze that Feng Wuhen had fixed upon him.
He remembered that Feng Wuhen had once said he would accompany him. But thinking it was just another of the manor lord’s whims, Shen Molan casually replied that he already had Shaoqing and didn’t need anyone else’s company. At that, Wuhen’s expression dimmed.
He remembered… when he carried Shaoqing to Feng Manor to seek help, Wuhen had asked him, “If I were in the same situation, would you be just as anxious and concerned?”
How did he respond?
And so, the light in the young man’s eyes completely went out. Everything he did after that—the blood transfusion, the poisoning, even when the poison took effect—he never mentioned any of it to him again.
He remembered, just before he left, the young man had earnestly begged him to stay a few more days, yet… the very next day, he hurriedly left, as if the young man were some venomous creature.
The young man had repeatedly asked him to come see him in September, but he never gave an answer.
The young man asked him to call his name—Wuhen.
His response was a cold laugh, not even bothering to say another word.
And so, the young man no longer pleaded.
It was just… a simple and humble request.
“Wuhen…”
It was wrong, all of it was wrong.
Terribly, tragically wrong.
That person was like a hedgehog, someone who had grown up instinctively using sharp quills to show indifference. Yet, to him alone, Wuhen had bared himself, offered his heart, but he imagined an even stronger, false shell over him. Looking at that shell, he convinced himself that this was Wuhen’s true character.
Over time, seeing that even the only person he cared about treated him this way, Wuhen began to believe he truly belonged in that shell. After all, no one believed in his sincerity, so he gave up.
“Wuhen…”
A small sob escaped from his throat.
He stared at the blank memorial tablet, wanting to reach out and touch it, but he could no longer hold himself up.
He thought, it must be because he was too tired these past few days.
Why else would there be this suffocating, overwhelming sorrow?
That person… why is he still the same as before, leaving without a word?
Or maybe you did tell me, but I chose to remain indifferent.
So, in the end, you have given up.