Chapter 8: Grounded

The room was engulfed in complete silence.

Jiang Wu didn’t even dare let her mind wander. She thought of how Chu Ling had crushed the jade pendant in his hand, and it felt as if her own head were about to be crushed like that pendant the very next moment.

After an indeterminate amount of time, she finally saw Chu Ling rise to his feet.

“The matter from last time hasn’t been punished yet. Then, one month of house arrest,” the man’s low, restrained voice, tinged with anger, sounded less like a sentence of confinement and more like a death sentence. Jiang Wu even felt a faint relief that this was the punishment.

Noticing that he had walked away, she cautiously lifted her head and stole a glance in his direction.

Chu Ling was nearly stepping out of the main hall’s door, still tightly clutching the crushed jade pendant in his hand. It must have cut into his palm—the crimson drops staining the path he walked. Coupled with the rage evident even from his back, it was chilling to the bone, leaving the servants in the house as silent as if gripped by fear.

Only after his figure vanished did Jiang Wu finally collapse in exhaustion.

The others must not have fared much better. After a while, someone came over to support her: “Madam.”

Jiang Wu waved her off, unwilling to have her come closer.

A troubling thought now weighed on her mind.

She had been so eager for Chu Yan to return and reconcile harmoniously with Chu Ling that she forgot to consider whether Chu Yan even wished to be with him.

What if, when the time came, her sister-in-law became entangled with Chu Ling? Jiang Wu’s neck would surely go cold. Given Chu Ling’s tendency to kill at the slightest provocation, how many people would end up caught in the crossfire?

What was she to do?

Finally, Jiang Wu slowly got to her feet, clutching her aching chest.

Who was this man to her? Not an enemy, but more like an ancestor, one she had to placate and appease—now even worrying over his affections.

There was probably no other legitimate wife in the world as miserable as her.

***

After two days of house arrest, Jiang Wu could no longer bear it.

Having narrowly escaped death from Chu Ling’s wrath, she had been quite relieved. But being confined within the manor these past two days, her mood had grown steadily irritable.

What did he mean “punishment not yet complete”? Weren’t the trees all replanted?

“Madam,” the nearby servants quickly admonished, seeing she had put down her chopsticks, “you are eating far too little; how will your body endure this?”

Jiang Wu had no appetite.

“Clear it away. I’m not eating anymore.”

She rose and stepped outside, catching sight of a swallow in flight.

Only then did she realize that house arrest was far more unbearable than any punishment—it was as if her heart were trapped in a pitch-black box, suffocating and gradually turning into a seething fire.

This wretched life could only get worse; there was no worst.

“Madam!” Zhi Zhi’s voice rang out from a distance. Her impetuous demeanor drew a frown from the nearby maids, but seeing their lady seemed to have finally eased her melancholy, they quietly bowed their heads.

“What is it?” Jiang Wu felt a flicker of joy.

In this cold, desolate courtyard, Zhi Zhi was the only person who made her feel alive.

The first time she met Zhi Zhi was outside Chu Ling’s bathhouse— the young girl wore a light, thin garment, her eyes brimming with unhidden ambition. She was carrying some fragrant herbs, clearly intending to go inside with a purpose. Their collision was accidental.

The girl, visibly nervous, immediately knelt with a flurry of apologies.

Jiang Wu found it amusing.

She didn’t mind at all that someone wanted to climb into Chu Ling’s bed—in fact, she was rather excited and eager for Chu Ling to officially take her in. So instead of stopping the girl, she even lent a helping hand.

The result was Zhi Zhi nearly being executed by Chu Ling. Jiang Wu risked half her life to save her.

Since then, the girl had been sincerely loyal to her and had no improper thoughts toward Chu Ling whatsoever.

It was hardly surprising—who could harbor feelings for such a despicable man after truly knowing him?

Later, because Jiang Wu had taken cinnabar, Zhi Zhi nearly faced execution again.

By calculation, she was probably the only one who had twice escaped death at Chu Ling’s hands because Jiang Wu had risked her life for her. When Chu Ling had pressed a knife to her throat to test Jiang Wu’s resolve, he had even drawn blood.

Thinking back to Chu Ling’s expression then made Jiang Wu’s legs go weak—a man known for his stoic demeanor had eyes reddened as if about to devour her whole.

In hindsight, she admired her own courage for that moment. At least Chu Ling had relented in the end.

Jiang Wu hadn’t given it much thought—Zhi Zhi was the only living person in the entire residence who belonged to her.

Most around her were servants loyal to Chu Ling, who were frequently replaced, leaving her unable to remember even a single name.

Their role here was either to serve her like lifeless mannequins or to keep watch over her.

Only Zhi Zhi was truly hers.

Zhi Zhi held a letter in her hand, smiling as she said, “Princess Qingyang has sent you a letter.”

In that moment, the gloom on Jiang Wu’s face vanished, though she still restrained her smile, feigning calm. “I see. Give it to me.”

After taking the letter inside and dismissing the servants, she opened it alone.

Sure enough, the letter came from Princess Qingyang but was written by Mo Yangzhou.

The man’s words were devoid of sentimental longing; he merely explained that he had been invited to sing at the great-grandmother’s birthday banquet of the Gao family’s eldest daughter that day, without any private encounters with the young lady.

Reading this, a smile involuntarily appeared on Jiang Wu’s face.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of the fact that Yangzhou had no contact with her or because of his urgent tone in the explanation.

Indeed, if she was to find a husband, it had to be someone like this.

She read on. The latter part was a stream of reminders from the man, urging her to eat on time and not to take medicine recklessly if she couldn’t sleep.

Jiang Wu sat by the window, reading every word carefully.

The warm spring sunlight bathed her, allowing her to feel a rare warmth even within this house.

The last line of the letter was a rare request from Mo Yangzhou.

“If possible, might we meet in the near future?”

Jiang Wu stared blankly at that final sentence. The ink there was noticeably heavier, as if the man had carefully pondered and struggled before dipping his brush again to write it.

She had always been the one to call him at will, dismissing him as she pleased. Mo Yangzhou was considerate; he never asked for anything that would trouble her.

To him, she was more a pastime, and he clearly understood his place—he never sought to break that barrier beyond cheering her up.

Now it seemed he was overcome with longing and could no longer restrain himself.

Perhaps... Jiang Wu thought, it was she who was truly overcome.

She lowered her head, bringing the paper to her nose. Beyond the scent of ink, there was a faint fragrance of osmanthus—Mo Yangzhou’s scent.

Her heart grew increasingly urgent. She could no longer wait to escape this place, to have a new home and a fresh start.

***

When she returned indoors, the meal was still laid out on the table.

Seeing her, the servants anxiously urged again, “Madam, please eat something.”

Only Chu Ling could make these timid young servants wear such expressions of fear and trepidation. Jiang Wu guessed that if she ate too little, Chu Ling would blame them.

Those in power always had strange reasons to punish others for their own faults.

Jiang Wu sat back down at the table and picked up her chopsticks. But this time, she thought of Yangzhou’s concern for her, of how he was still waiting.

She had to take the initiative and do something.