Chapter Forty-Seven: Encounter

Ye Qianran stared at him, as if still lost in a dream. He reached out, gently brushing aside the long hair at her temple, his voice tinged with laughter and a barely audible sigh, “It’s only been a few days, Miss, and you don’t recognize me anymore?”

Warmth surged in her heart. Ye Qianran quickly lowered her gaze to his snowy white robes. “What brings you here?”

Liuyun smiled, “I came with my mother to offer incense. With nothing else to do, I wandered to the back hills. I saw you as soon as you stepped out the monastery’s rear gate. I wanted to surprise you, but I stood behind you for quite some time, and you never noticed.”

Ye Qianran looked up at him. Between his handsome brows, there was a faint heroic air. His eyes gazed at her, deep and tranquil, and his lips curved with gentle tenderness. In the depths of his eyes, Ye Qianran saw her own reflection clearly. All the words she’d kept in her heart vanished at that moment; just seeing him was enough.

They walked side by side along the winding, secluded path. Occasionally, they met acquaintances; he would pause to greet them—simple yet polite. When others glanced at her, their looks carried a hint of curious scrutiny, but he did not shy away, comporting himself with the calmness of one who belonged.

Ye Qianran had not expected to encounter Gu Qingcheng here, nor had she expected Wei Zhuang to be at her side. Their paths crossed under the bodhi tree before the eastern side hall. At that moment, Ye Qianran was asking Liuyun about the matter of abolishing the feudal lords. In just a few months, the court had successfully deposed six princes—Lu, Yan, Zhao, Chu, Qi, and Zhou. Some were exiled, some granted death, others confined for life. Far in the southwest, the Prince of Jingjiang had finally rebelled, claiming to “purge the emperor’s inner circle of traitors.” His words implied that the emperor’s actions against the princes were the result of evil counsel, leading to kin turning upon kin; thus, he intended to help the emperor rid himself of traitors.

Hearing this, Ye Qianran remembered the figure clad in deep purple; evidently, he was unwilling to relinquish the military power he’d held for over a decade. Yet by raising arms, he had sealed his fate—victory would engrave his name in history, defeat would leave him forever reviled.

History has always been so merciless.

Though she had met him only once, she felt a deep sense of regret for him, though she could not say why.

Lost in thought, Ye Qianran was startled by a polite yet surprised voice from ahead. “Miss Ye, Master Liuyun?”

Instinctively, Ye Qianran looked up. At the end of her gaze was Gu Qingcheng, dressed in misty white gauze adorned with cold plum blossoms. A slight shift revealed Wei Zhuang in dark robes, smiling as he studied her, his gaze filled with an indescribable mockery.

The rumors were true; his connection with Gu Qingcheng was indeed ambiguous.

Liuyun nodded with a gentle smile. “Miss Gu.” Then he turned to Wei Zhuang. “And this is...?”

Gu Qingcheng introduced, “This is Mr. Wei Zhuang,” then to Wei Zhuang, “Master Liuyun.”

Liuyun extended his hand politely, his voice mild and warm. “I have long heard of you.”

Wei Zhuang’s gaze lingered on Ye Qianran, but when Liuyun offered his hand, he withdrew his eyes and shook hands courteously. “Forgive my manners.”

He then turned to Ye Qianran. “Miss Ye, it has been a while.” His tone was polite and distant, as if they truly hadn’t met for a long time.

Ye Qianran glanced at him, thinking to herself how adept this man was at playing a role. Still, she cooperated, naturally placing her hand in his. “Mr. Wei, it has indeed been a while.”

As she laid her hand in his, he smiled silently. Ye Qianran was startled, fearing another trick, but he did nothing, releasing her hand like a proper gentleman.

At times, Ye Qianran truly could not fathom his behavior, but she never sought reasons.

They exchanged a few polite words. Liuyun’s snowy white robes and Wei Zhuang’s dark garments formed a vivid contrast, yet an odd harmony.

Thus, they passed by, their meeting simple to the extreme.

Wei Zhuang turned to look back after a few steps, watching the two grow distant, their laughter drifting away. The corners of his lips curled with a barely perceptible smile.

A breeze swept by, stirring his wide sleeves. At the cuffs, the dark embroidery danced like an elusive butterfly—strange and unpredictable.

Gu Qingcheng looked at him in confusion. “Sir, is something the matter?”

Wei Zhuang smiled and shook his head.

When Liuyun escorted Ye Qianran back, his mother and Meng Lanyi stood by the carriage, gazing toward the mountain gate. Seeing Liuyun, his mother was delighted, her eyes shining as she looked at him. Ye Qianran felt embarrassed. At parting, his mother urged him to visit the Ye residence more often, to which he agreed with a smile. He instructed the coachman to drive carefully and watched them leave before turning away.

By the time Ye Qianran returned to the residence, dusk had fallen. Ye An waited at the gate. Meng Lanyi had spent the afternoon with her mother listening to the abbot’s teachings, her brows and eyes showing signs of fatigue though she forced herself to stay alert. Ye An’s gaze lingered on her face for a long while.

At dinner, Meng Lanyi did not eat with the others, but had a maid bring her meal to Ling Garden. Ye An, seeing this, had his meal sent there as well. Rarely did they dine alone; this meal was quiet and gentle. She didn’t speak, and Ye An only watched her silently. Meng Lanyi knew he was looking at her, but acted as if he did not exist.

She rose and let the maid clear the tableware. Night gradually enveloped the room in darkness, so quiet one could hear a heartbeat. Ye An remained as he was, watching her, while Meng Lanyi sat by the window inside.

A maid came to light the lamps, but Ye An stopped her. After a long silence, he sighed. “You still don’t intend to let me stay tonight?”

Meng Lanyi clenched her hands for a long time, then let go helplessly, raising her brows. “Lu Lan... she is with child. You should spend more time with her.”

He asked every night, and received the same answer each time. Ye An lowered his head and laughed softly, his tone full of irony. “You are truly generous. I’ve never seen a wife push her husband away.”

With that, he rose slowly, his movements light. Meng Lanyi still heard the rustle of his sleeves against the table and chair; she knew he had left.

Her body slumped weakly. She pressed her forehead. She had not let him stay before out of fear; the longer she delayed, the less courage she had. But what exactly was she afraid of? She didn’t know.

At the corner of Ling Garden, Ye An met Ye Qianran, who was coming to see Meng Lanyi. She called softly, “Brother, where are you going?”

Moonlight poured down, silver and bright. Ye An’s fine brows showed no emotion. “Baihe Courtyard.” With that, he swept his sleeves and departed.

Ye Qianran watched his retreating figure, then turned into Ling Garden. The room was unlit, pitch black. She stood beneath the withered phoenix tree, moonlight spilling through the western window, casting the faint, swaying silhouette of Meng Lanyi. After a long while, she signaled Qingge outside to lift the curtain.

There was a faint sound in the room. Ye Qianran groped her way to the place where Ye An had sat.

Meng Lanyi’s heart tightened. Was it him returning?

No one spoke in the room.

After a long silence, Meng Lanyi tried to speak, but her mouth was dry. She called, “Ye An?”

The name lingered quietly in the air. No answer. She felt suffocated.

After a while, a soft sigh. “Sister, it’s me.”

Meng Lanyi breathed out, uncertain if it was relief or disappointment. “Why have you come?” Ye Qianran answered obliquely, “Sister... you’ve always hoped Brother would turn back.”

“No,” she denied instinctively.

“Why not keep him here? If you care, why push him away?” Ye Qianran did not heed her denial. In the past, perhaps she would have believed, but not now. Meng Lanyi had always made things difficult for others, and for herself.

“I said, I haven’t,” Meng Lanyi’s voice carried suppressed anger, fiercely denying it. Why deny it? Even she didn’t know. Would yielding kill her? No, but she simply refused to yield.

“Sister... are you still angry with me?” Ye Qianran changed the subject.

Silence.

Ye Qianran knew she was still angry. That was good; as long as she was angry, there was hope. Ye Qianran rose quietly and paused at the curtain. “Lu Lan was eight, I was six. Once, playing, I crossed a narrow bridge and slipped into the river. I was terrified, struggling, shouting until my throat was raw, but no one came. When I thought I would die, Lu Lan ran towards me and jumped in without hesitation. I don’t know what drove her, but she grabbed my hand tightly, never letting go, even after we were rescued. Lu Lan is my benefactor. If I don’t repay her, I feel indebted. I knew telling you or our parents would lead to the same outcome—she would bear the child. But Lu Lan was afraid, and to repay her kindness, I had to follow her wishes.”

Meng Lanyi said nothing.

Ye Qianran laughed softly. “I have never feared you would hurt her, nor do I value her above you. One is my benefactor, one my kin; there is no comparison, nor need for it. You are smarter than I am, you know the difference between benefactor and family.”

“I thought you would understand me, but I never expected you to think that way. Now, I say this not to seek forgiveness but to let you know: your judgment of me was wrong from the start. You have trapped yourself in illusions, ignoring the truth. Many facts are the opposite of what you imagine. Why not break free from your self-imposed prison and see the world outside?”

The room remained shrouded in darkness.

“I’ve said all I needed. If you think these are excuses, then pretend I never came.”

She turned and walked out, gazing up at the starry sky. Her mood suddenly lifted. It had been a long time since she spoke so much sense; she almost admired herself. Some of what she said was true, some not. She wanted to protect Lu Lan without offending Meng Lanyi, knowing there would be no perfect solution—but she was willing to try.