Chen Shaoqing had a hard time getting up in the early morning, and it wasn’t until Shen Molan had knocked on the door for a long time that he groggily got up and opened it.
“Shen-dage?”[1]
Shen Molan looked at the dazed, confused youth in front of him. His gaze softening as he gently patted Chen Shaoqing’s head. “Have you packed your things?”
Chen Shaoqing came to his senses and nodded. “I’ve packed. Are we leaving now?” His tone carried a trace of excitement that he couldn’t hide. Although life at Feng Manor ensured he was well-fed and well-clothed, he always felt like he was in some sort of confinement, unable to go anywhere. Now, with the chance to leave, how could he not be excited?
Shen Molan replied, “Yes, the Manor Lord has arranged a carriage and provisions for us. Where do you want to go first?”
Chen Shaoqing wasn’t too keen on accepting more favors from Feng Wuhen, but now things were different from before. Slightly unhappy, he said, “I plan to return to the Chen family in Gusu[2] first to see my parents. I exchanged letters with them a few days ago, and after over a year of separation, they greatly miss me.”
Shen Molan nodded. “That’s perfect.”
Chen Shaoqing then asked, “And you, Shen-dage?”
Shen Molan paused. His mother had passed away a few years earlier, leaving him with no home to return to, so he replied, “I’ll accompany you to Gusu first.”
Chen Shaoqing’s eyes lit up with joy. “That’s wonderful! Let’s set out now—we should arrive by tomorrow. Gusu isn’t too far from here.” With that, he happily went to fetch his belongings, his steps light and carefree.
Shen Molan watched Chen Shaoqing bustling about, feeling a sense of relief. Just a year ago, Chen Shaoqing had been poisoned, his movements slow and even walking was difficult. Now, seeing him restored to his former healthy self, Shen Molan couldn’t help but feel at ease.
“That Miao woman, I’ll make sure she pays for this,” Chen Shaoqing muttered angrily. “If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have ended up like that. After I visit my parents, I’ll make her the first person I settle the score with.”
Shen Molan shook his head in disapproval. “Revenge only breeds more revenge. Besides, that woman knows countless types of poisons—you wouldn’t stand a chance against her.”
Chen Shaoqing countered, “No, not if Shen-dage helps me!”
Shen Molan sighed softly and patted Chen Shaoqing’s head, his hair seemingly standing on end with anger. “We’ll talk about it when the time comes. Let’s focus on getting ready to leave for now.”
He felt that just dealing with one poison had already cost him so much effort, and he had no idea what further trouble would come if they crossed paths with that poison woman again. For now, though, seeing Chen Shaoqing’s frustration and sense of injustice, Shen Molan decided to console him for the time being.
In August, the lush green trees provided shade during the long summer days, and the reflection of the manor’s pavilions shimmered in the ponds. The Feng Manor was full of vibrant greenery.
But, alas, someone would have to leave.
Feng Wuhen leaned against the gate of the manor, watching as the servants busied themselves preparing the carriage and provisions for Shen Molan and Chen Shaoqing. His gaze wandered, lost in thought.
Shen Molan, after a moment’s consideration, let Chen Shaoqing board the carriage first. He then approached Feng Wuhen and said, “Thank you, Manor Lord, for taking care of Shaoqing for over a year. He’s now fully recovered, and I am deeply grateful.”
Feng Wuhen smiled in response. “Your gratitude means nothing to me. Molan, remember to come visit me in September—I’ll send someone to pick you up.”
Why was he so fixated on September? Why can’t he get over it?
Shen Molan frowned slightly. He had originally planned to cut ties with Feng Wuhen after this, never to meet again. After all, over the past year, their relationship had been one of mutual benefit. However, now that he had just expressed his gratitude, it didn’t seem right to immediately reject Feng Wuhen’s invitation. Moreover, when he thought of the lively Chen Shaoqing waiting in the carriage, Shen Molan politely replied, “Thank you for the invitation, Manor Lord. I will carefully consider it.”
That response was much better than expected. Feng Wuhen raised an eyebrow, about to push his luck and say more, when Chen Shaoqing had already lifted the carriage curtain. “Shen-dage, are we leaving now?”
Shen Molan acknowledged him and looked back at Feng Wuhen. “Take care, Manor Lord.”
Feng Wuhen slowly withdrew his smile, feeling a familiar pang in his chest. He masochistically thought to himself, only Molan could make him feel as if he were still alive.
Earlier, Shen Molan had declined Feng Wuhen’s offer to hire a coachman, planning instead to alternate driving the carriage with Chen Shaoqing on their journey north to Gusu. Feng Wuhen knew that Shen Molan didn’t want to owe him anything more.
Feng Wuhen quietly watched the carriage disappear into the distance. He imagined countless times that Molan might turn his head for one last glance. Even though Feng Wuhen was now a bit unsteady and had to lean against the gate for support, he was certain that if Molan did turn back, he would straighten himself up and show the healthiest smile he could muster.
But, alas, until the carriage was completely out of sight, Molan never once turned around.
Feng Wuhen lowered his head and laughed softly.
He found his own life laughably absurd, but he was too proud to admit it. He didn’t want anyone else to know how much pain he was truly in.
However, he had to admit one thing: he envied Chen Shaoqing for having loving parents and for having Molan by his side.
He suddenly thought of his deceased parents. Throughout his life, they hadn’t paid much attention to him, but he could still feel the intense, almost obsessive love they had for each other. In the past, he didn’t care about it, but now he found himself envious.
He envied many people but despised himself.
He knew that Molan no longer wanted to see him, but he was selfish, wanting to see Molan one last time before he died, disregarding Molan’s own feelings.
What a pity.
“Master, the carriage is long gone. Shall we head back inside?” Xiao Lian asked with concern. Even with a light dusting of rouge on his cheeks, Feng Wuhen’s face still appeared unnaturally pale and slightly blue.
In truth, Xiao Lian didn’t really know what was wrong with the master. Feng Wuhen had always given the impression of being carefree, never complaining of any discomfort. But recently, she had the growing feeling that his health was deteriorating, as if he could pass away at any moment. It all seemed to have started when he agreed to treat Chen Shaoqing’s illness.
But the master never said anything, not even to Shen Molan, the person he always kept in his heart. Now, everyone had left, not even sparing a glance back, yet the master still waited, hoping someone would remember him.
Xiao Lian bit her lip, torn between sadness and anger.
“Xiao Lian, why the long face again?” Feng Wuhen, seemingly pleased by her expression, smiled and teased, “At this rate, you’ll look thirty by the time you’re fifteen.”
“Master!” Xiao Lian stomped her foot in frustration.
Feng Wuhen comforted her, “Well, at least with Molan gone, I won’t have to keep borrowing your rouge anymore. You always pretended to lend it to me willingly, but I know deep down you were unhappy about it.”
Xiao Lian pouted, “…I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” With that, she stormed off into the manor.
Feng Wuhen smiled helplessly. He was truly exhausted today, having stood under the scorching August sun for so long. He slowly walked back to his room.
He thought to himself that he had been right—Molan’s departure had its advantages. Currently, he wouldn’t have to worry about preparing breakfast for him every day, or about Molan seeing him without rouge or with his white hair showing. He wouldn’t have to agonize over every word or action of Molan’s.
Now, he could lie in bed and finally be the elderly man at peace with his life.
When he thought about it, it didn’t seem so bad after all.
[1] 大哥 is a polite way to address a man with same age as oneself.
[2] Kris Xian: I don’t think it’s the same Gusu we’re thinking. Haha. MDZS’s disciples from Gusu are much better than these trash.