However, later on, Qin Duan had devised a fire-attack strategy. They used small boats loaded with explosives and tied them to the back of the enemy’s massive warships. Taking advantage of the favorable wind direction, these small boats served as a suicide squad, catching fire in the wind and driving straight toward the enemy fleet.
With the fierce wind fanning the flames, the river water was illuminated in a brilliant crimson, reflecting the smiling faces of the soldiers who had achieved victory against overwhelming odds.
It was precisely because they won this magnificent comeback battle that Xie Zhengming was ennobled as the Mighty General of Weiyuan by Li Chong who was then the leader of the insurgent forces—becoming his right-hand man. It was Qin Duan who, step by step, had paved the stepping stones for Xie Zhengming’s path to success.
Hearing this segment of the opera, neither Xie Zhengming nor Qin Duan spoke, yet their hearts remained turbulent and unsettled for a long time.
Xie Zhengming turned his gaze toward Qin Duan. Remembering his past self—who had clearly been consumed entirely by this person, yet somehow lost his way later on—he felt he truly deserved death. However, since heaven had granted him another chance at rebirth, he would most certainly, without a doubt, cherish Qin Duan dearly and never let him suffer sorrow or disappointment again.
Sensing Xie Zhengming’s probing gaze from beside him, Qin Duan swiftly composed his complex and (deeply stirred) emotions, turning to speak as though nothing were amiss:
“Your Highness, the singing is quite good. It deserves a reward.”
Watching Qin Duan swallow all his lingering heartache deep down inside, Xie Zhengming gripped his hand with a heart-wrenching ache, nearly losing his composure entirely. Taking a deep breath, he commanded:
“Reward them.”
As the next opera began to play, Qin Duan’s complexion turned somewhat unsightly. Most people were familiar with this particular play, but hearing it alongside Xie Zhengming made him feel inexplicably awkward and even somewhat ironic inside. When he originally selected the pieces, he hadn’t thought much of it, but following the earlier performance of Farewell My Concubine, he worried that as the emotional moments unfolded later, he truly might lose his composure in front of Xie Zhengming.
In a mild panic, Qin Duan rose to his feet and said to Xie Zhengming:
“Your Highness, I suppose I grew too busy this morning; right now, I am truly feeling rather drowsy, so I wish to take my leave first.”
Xie Zhengming was slightly startled before catching the flicker of panic in Qin Duan’s darting eyes. In his heart, he understood: Qin Duan was afraid that watching this play would stir up old emotions and painful memories. Ah, it was always my betrayal in the past that wounded him to this extent.
Yet Qin Duan possessed a character that was outwardly gentle yet inwardly resolute; while gentle and refined, he detested exposing his vulnerable side before others. Therefore, Xie Zhengming nodded and said:
“Very well, go get some rest then. Tonight we’ll go out for a stroll, so we won’t have to worry about feeling stuffed after dinner.”
“Mn.”
After Qin Duan departed, Xie Zhengming subjected himself to a form of self-torture, sitting through the entirety of Qin Xianglian. Watching Chen Shimei on the theatrical stage, he thought of his past self… Was there any difference? They were both bastards who had abandoned their loyal, weathering-the-storm spouses…
Xie Zhengming dismissed the attending servants, sitting alone beneath the empty opera stage until the conclusion of A Dream of Jiangnan.
Suddenly, a wave of profound terror gripped his heart: would this reborn life of his turn out to be nothing more than a fleeting Nanke Dream, just like Chunyu Fen’s?
As the actors took their final bows and the entire stage was left deserted with only him remaining, Xie Zhengming could no longer hold back; tears streamed down his face.
A fine drizzle began to drift from the sky, yet none of the estate’s servants dared to draw near. The Prince had explicitly ordered earlier that no one was to come up to serve or disturb him. In truth, anyone could tell that something was amiss with the Prince today.
It wasn’t until Xie Zhengming had wept his fill, steadied his emotions, and stood up that his personal page, Zhuzi, finally mustered the courage to walk over and hold an umbrella for him.
Zhuzi offered a cautious reminder:
“Your Highness, should you perhaps change your clothes first? You’re all soaked through.”
Xie Zhengming offered no reply, simply walking straight back to his main courtyard bedchamber. His intention was to find Qin Duan; even if Qin Duan was asleep right now, he wished to stand guard by his side, watching over him until he woke.
However, upon returning to the main courtyard bedchamber and stepping into the outer parlor, he didn’t see Qin Duan’s page, Yun’er. He found it strange could Qin Duan not be sleeping here?
Sure enough, the inner chamber was empty. Whirling around abruptly, he demanded with sharp urgency:
“Where is the Head of the Household?”
Startled by Xie Zhengming’s sudden change in expression, Zhuzi answered honestly:
“This servant just saw the Head of the Household leave the Luxiang Pavilion and head toward the western courtyard.”
Xie Zhengming closed his eyes for a moment. The western courtyard… A’duan, do you still refuse to trust me?
Sighing inwardly, he turned around and strode toward the western courtyard.
Upon entering the western courtyard, he spotted Yun’er squatting on the ground outside Qin Duan’s bedchamber, holding an umbrella while poking at a scrawny little turtle. Seeing him approach, Yun’er hurriedly stood up to pay his respects, wondering to himself what on earth had gotten into the Prince today why was he constantly hovering around Young Master Qin? Back at their old residence, didn’t he spend most of his time cooped up in the study?
With a stern countenance, Xie Zhengming though possessing breathtakingly handsome features looked thoroughly fierce when expressionless.
In a deep voice, he questioned:
“Didn’t I say that the Head of the Household would henceforth live with me in the main courtyard? Why has he returned here again?”
Nervously, Yun’er stammered:
“It, it was the Head of the Household himself who said he wanted to come back here…”
In truth, Xie Zhengming knew he was merely asking a redundant question, but his restless, vexed heart drove him to vent his frustration somewhere—he certainly couldn’t lose his temper at Qin Duan, could he?
Walking up to the door, he pushed it open with light, cautious steps and stepped inside. Qin Duan was indeed fast asleep, though he looked restless even in his slumber; a faint shadow of worry lingered between his brows, furrowed softly as though troubled by an unpleasant dream.
With a heart aching with tenderness, Xie Zhengming reached out to smooth the space between Qin Duan’s brows, wishing to comfort the sleeping figure. But Qin Duan was an extremely light sleeper, and the moment he felt the touch, the person on the bed instantly fluttered his eyes open.
“Your Highness?”
Xie Zhengming pressed his lips together.
“There is no one else here; why are you still addressing me as Your Highness?”
Qin Duan lowered his eyes before calling out once more:
“A-zheng, why are you here?”
“Should I not be here? Then where should I be? Oh, indeed, I shouldn’t be here. But what could I do? I had imagined that returning to the bedchamber in the main courtyard, I would find my Head of the Household sleeping soundly and securely within; instead, I found myself walking into an empty room, leaving me with no choice but to come all the way here.”
Hearing Xie Zhengming put it this way, a guilty flush stained Qin Duan’s face. He softly murmured:
“I am quite well-settled living here… as for the main courtyard… I, it simply isn’t appropriate…”
At those words, Xie Zhengming leaned over and slid under the covers beside Qin Duan, a hint of helpless resignation lacing his voice:
“You still don’t trust me, do you? From what moment onward did you stop believing in me?”
In his previous life, he had committed countless grave errors later on, chilling Qin Duan to the bone that much he knew. But when had Qin Duan actually stopped trusting him? He desperately wanted to know.
Was it when he was consumed day and night by grand ambitions of assisting the Emperor, arranging troop formations and drafting operational strategies while completely neglecting Qin Duan, who was burning with fever and unable to get out of bed? Or was it when he gathered with his military comrades from the battlefield, never once thinking to bring Qin Duan along with him? Or perhaps… when the Empress Dowager casually inquired about his age, remarking that he ought to settle down and noting how many noble maidens graced the capital, while he hadn’t uttered a single syllable concerning Qin Duan in response…?
He loved Qin Duan, yet he felt ashamed to mention Qin Duan in front of others. He truly was a complete bastard.