The young gentleman stood up and stretched. Outside the bamboo curtain, Zhiqiu was discussing something with Zhidong in a trembling voice. The two servants were scared out of their wits by this news, yet they didn’t dare to directly tell the still-joyful Meng Jun.

“How could it be such a coincidence that in this military unit, only Li Shinu encountered an ambush and perished? This can’t be—” Zhidong’s voice stopped, looking puzzled at Zhiqiu who suddenly lowered his head. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t worry, usually at this hour, the young master takes a nap. We should first think of a strategy.”

On the table, the small gilded incense burner wafted the scent of agarwood.

The young man standing behind the bamboo curtain had turned pale. He listened in a daze as Zhidong talked about how to coax him back to the mansion and keep this news from him.

In his haze, he seemed to hear her sighing softly, “Silly Jiujiu.”

His arm gripping the doorframe was shaking uncontrollably. Meng Jun bit his lower lip hard to suppress the cry that was about to escape. It can’t be.

He clearly had a premonitory dream.

The young gentleman’s temples were buzzing. He stumbled out of the room. The daylight was bright, but he felt as if everything before his eyes was covered in layers of gray, with nowhere to hide, suffocating him.

Hot tears fell one by one, rolling heavily down his still-flushed cheeks. Those phoenix eyes brimming with tears gazed blankly at the servants rushing towards him. Their lips moved constantly, yet he couldn’t hear any sound.

She had clearly returned.

He walked forward step by step, wanting to push aside the figures blocking his way.

His Tangtang was clearly standing at the flower-hung gate. The young gentleman curved his lips; he knew they were all deceiving him.

The sachet in his palm was already damp with sweat. Meng Jun looked at that thin silhouette from afar. The buzzing in his ears seemed determined to torment him to death before stopping.

He moved his lips. The daylight before his eyes seemed like the night after sunset, heavily pressing down on those red and swollen eyes.

All was silent, as if time had stopped.

The body lying on the bed sank deeply into the bedding, but that tiny bit of consciousness had already drifted away. The pillow, wet with tears, was bone-chillingly cold, and even the cotton quilt covering his body couldn’t ward off the chill rising from the depths of his heart.

Meng Jun was still in a daze. He had slept for a day and a night, but the falling tears had never stopped.

Three waves of doctors had come to the Meng mansion. They had tried everything – administering medicine, acupuncture – but there was no sign of improvement.

It was as if an invisible and intangible thin thread was stubbornly and firmly constricting that heart that alternated between joy and sorrow.

Only when he occasionally heard others unintentionally mention the three words “Li Ruantang” would those thick eyelashes tremble slightly.

Meng Xiaozhi let out a long, winding sigh. Yesterday, when Li Ruantang’s coffin entered the capital, the Emperor summoned her, and there were hints of intention to bestow marriage in their conversation.

However, with one spouse dead and one alive, they couldn’t directly issue an edict. They should at least ask the opinion of the young man’s family.

If Meng Xiaozhi was purely utilitarian, she would have kowtowed to thank the Empress long ago.

After all, once the two families were joined in marriage, she would be the one benefiting no matter what. Not only would she gain the Su Qin Wang mansion for nothing, but she would also solve a problem for the Empress, comforting the loyal souls of the Su Qin Wang lineage, and clearly showing her own loyalty. In the future, she wouldn’t marry into other noble families, and her background in the Censorate would remain clean and clear.

But she still remembered her late husband, and was even more reluctant to let her silly young son become a sacrifice in the court struggle.

Especially since her Jiulang was just of age to have his hair bound, and hadn’t yet deeply tasted the meaning of love. How could he spend a lifetime guarding an empty Su Qin Wang mansion?

“Silly child, mother knows your feelings for Li Shinu, but things have come to this point, you should look forward.”

Meng Xiaozhi let out a low sigh, looked at the still dazed and tearful Meng Jun, and lovingly reached out to stroke his forehead. “After all, she did think of you, leaving this letter to help the Meng family turn the situation around. Now, mother will refuse this marriage on your behalf. Don’t worry, after some time, everything will get better.”

She stood up to leave, but her sleeve seemed to be weighed down.

Meng Xiaozhi turned back, her eyes full of surprise. “Jiulang, you’re awake?!” She quickly sat back down and patiently asked, “Do you want some water?”

The young gentleman’s mind was still foggy. He shook his head slightly and said weakly, “Mother, I… I will marry.”

“Nonsense!” Meng Xiaozhi’s eyes suddenly turned cold. “Mother knows you’re delirious from illness. We’ll talk about this when you’re better.”

“Mother.” The young man lying on the pillow gripped her sleeve tightly, not letting go. His voice was dry from lack of water, and every word seemed to take all his strength. “I, I will marry.”

“Why do you torment yourself like this?”

The young man holding her looked haggard, his eyes seemed covered in dust, only lighting up slightly when Li Ruantang was mentioned.

“I, I will marry.” He stubbornly and firmly repeated these words. His pleading voice was like a rusty saw, grating on Meng Xiaozhi’s motherly heart.

“Mother—” The young gentleman took a sip of tea from Zhiqiu’s hand to moisten his throat. “I promised her.”

“Jiulang, do you know what kind of life you’ll have if you marry into that family?” Meng Xiaozhi patiently persuaded, “You’re still young now, love can quench your thirst. But mother fears that as you grow older, if you meet another lady you like, you’ll be unable to break free because of this bestowed marriage.”

“Life is so long, why must you—”

“Mother, she saved me. Without her, how could I have a future?”

He gave a bitter smile, “Mother, life is indeed long, and no one can predict the future. But right now, I just want to think of her and remember her openly as her widower. Besides, in Changshan Valley, I already called her wife-master.”

Once the long-hidden secret was revealed, the young gentleman felt the bitterness in his heart lighten. He seemed lost in memories, softly recounting his experiences with her, “…When pretending to be her husband, I was the one who fell in love first.”

“Mother, wife-master was very good to me.” Those listless phoenix eyes seemed to scatter all their light. He kept talking, while Meng Xiaozhi’s palms grew cold.

She hurriedly embraced the increasingly weak young man, softly calling his name, “Jiulang, can you bear to leave mother like this?”