Chapter Forty-Eight: Verdant Radiance

Some matters cannot be resolved simply by running away, such as the entanglement between Meng Lanyi and Ye An. Some people and some things linger, regardless of one’s desire to ignore them—like Lülan.

When Lülan, with her gently rounded belly, appeared before her, Meng Lanyi felt little change in her emotions. Only when she saw the man beside Lülan, who turned his face and smiled at her, did Meng Lanyi feel as if the sky itself had fallen. His smile was so carefree and bright, like a warm spring breeze. How long had it been since she’d seen him smile so unreservedly? Meng Lanyi could only watch as the pair in the corridor drew closer, wanting to hide but finding nowhere to retreat.

And so, they collided head-on.

It was the first time Meng Lanyi truly looked at Lülan. In her memory, Lülan had always been the reserved, slightly aloof maid who followed Ye Qianran. Even after learning that Lülan was carrying Ye An’s child, Meng Lanyi had never really paid her much heed. But now, observing her closely, she realized Lülan was a rather pretty girl: an oval face, large eyes, cherry lips. Yet such features alone would not have caught Meng Lanyi’s attention—she had seen too many girls of this type. What set Lülan apart was her understated composure, as quiet and essential as water—so easy to overlook, yet impossible to do without.

Upon seeing her, Lülan pressed her lips together, paused, and lowered her head in a graceful curtsey, her posture humble to the point of self-effacement. “Good evening, Madam.”

Such humility only unsettled Meng Lanyi further. If Lülan had been arrogant and domineering, she might have been relieved, certain that Ye An would never fall for such a woman. But Lülan was precisely this calm, serene presence. Meng Lanyi glanced at Ye An, who was looking at her with a thoughtful gaze, as if watching a drama unfold.

Her hands clenched within her sleeves. A cold, mocking smile flickered at the corner of Meng Lanyi’s mouth, as she tried to appear indifferent. Yet the words that came out were tinged with unintended jealousy: “Very good. This is very good.”

Then she left, maintaining her poise.

Suddenly, Meng Lanyi remembered what he had once said: “As long as you’re not afraid I’ll fall for another woman over time, then I have nothing to fear.”

In truth, she wanted to ask him: Are you testing me now, too? Have you fallen for another woman? If I wished to keep you, could I succeed?

That night, for the first time, Ye An did not ask her that familiar question. Perhaps he felt her answer no longer mattered; perhaps he had lost faith in her. Meng Lanyi felt an emptiness inside—so hollow it hurt. Lying on the bed, still dressed, she stared at the candle burning to ash, while outside the moonlight was cold and lonely.

In the days that followed, Ye An did not come to see her. She would often sit by the window, lost in thought, speaking rarely to anyone. She didn’t know why, but even eating and sleeping felt like torment. She felt like a sunflower deprived of sunlight, slowly withering away, inching toward death.

So this is what it’s like when a person’s heart is empty.

So, she did love him after all.

So, some things are only recognized for their value once they have been lost.

The Lantern Festival arrived—the fifteenth day of the first month.

The moon hung at the tips of the willows.

Across the city, lanterns bloomed, the streets teemed with people, fireworks burst in splendor, and shops glimmered with colored lights. Ye Qianran, walking beside Liuyun, felt her heart full to the brim.

They guessed lantern riddles together and watched the fireworks, the dragon dances, and the lion dances. Ye Qianran feigned indifference, but could not fool herself. She knew he was troubled tonight; from the beginning until now, he had been absent-minded. When she spoke, he only looked at her in silence, taking a long time to respond. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, the question tangled in her heart for ages, yet remained unspoken. She had promised to trust him; what he did not wish to say, she would never ask.

Liuyun escorted her to the gates of the Ye estate, where two large red lanterns glowed a sweet orange in the darkness. Moonlight flooded the space before the gate, the wind stirred the trees, and Liuyun’s wide robe fluttered in the night breeze. He watched her quietly, unwilling to let her go, yet said nothing.

After a long silence, he finally spoke with difficulty, his gaze locked onto hers. “Qianran… I have something to tell you.”

Her eyelid twitched sharply. “What is it?”

His eyes were fathomless, as if he meant to see straight through her. His voice was low and hoarse. “His Majesty… has named me Vice General of the Left. Soon, I will go with the army to the southwest…”

Hearing him say “Soon, I will go with the army to the southwest,” Ye Qianran felt as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over her heart. She stared at him, unable to react for a long time.

“Qianran,” he called softly, his dark eyes full of unspoken emotion.

After a moment, Ye Qianran forced a smile, staring somewhere into the distance. “Aren’t you the Commander of the Imperial Guards? Why would His Majesty send you to the southwest?”

“He said that, as Commander, I have never seen battle and should be tempered by experience.”

Ye Qianran paused, then continued, “With Qingfeng gone, you’re leaving too—will Lord Minister agree?”

“It was my father who suggested to His Majesty that I accompany General Lantian to the southwest.”

Ye Qianran acted as though she hadn’t heard. “If you leave, who will safeguard the capital?”

“Qianran…” he called her again.

“If you leave, my brother will…” Before she could finish, he pulled her firmly into his arms, holding her so tightly it was as if he meant to fuse her into his very bones.

His chest was broad and warm. Ye Qianran pressed her head tightly against him. Liuyun’s low voice sounded above her, “I cannot let you go.”

A rush of heat welled from her heart to her eyes. Instinctively, Ye Qianran closed her eyes, hugging him back with all her strength.

Meanwhile, in Jade Lotus Court, Ye An was thoroughly drunk. No matter how Lülan pleaded, she couldn’t stop him. He leaned against the table by the window, wine jug in hand, pouring drink after drink down his throat. Lülan tried to take the jug from him, but he deftly evaded her.

Exhausted, Lülan slumped onto the bed, still trembling slightly. She watched Ye An, drunk beyond reason, his lips ceaselessly repeating that name she knew all too well: “Lanyi.” How many times had this happened? She had lost count. At first, whenever Ye An came to her, she had felt elated, even jubilant. But gradually, she realized his heart was elsewhere. When he spoke to her, he was always distracted, easily lost in thought. He had set up a soft couch in her room, and in the quiet of the night, Lülan would hear him mumbling another woman’s name—and that woman was not her.

She began to question whether all she had done to be by his side was right. She had never dared hope for more, never expected his love. She kept telling herself all she wanted was the title of Second Lady of the Ye family, to change her child’s fate. But when truly faced with Ye An, she found she could not remain unaffected. This man, when looking at her, was thinking of someone else. Suddenly, she felt monstrous; she and her child’s existence only brought him pain. He had once been a dashing, elegant gentleman—her idol. Now, he was a man she could barely endure.

She began to wonder if she’d made a mistake. A mother unloved by the father, and a child whose birth would only bring sorrow—what future could there be?

Lülan gripped the bed curtains tightly, gazing at Ye An, disheveled and desolate. She bit her lip, a tear glimmering at the corner of her eye. She stood, supporting her awkward waist, and step by step walked out. Candlelight stretched her departing shadow long upon the floor.

The moon was full, its light pale. Fireworks still bloomed in the sky. She suddenly remembered the days when she, Juanbi, and the young mistress played with firecrackers. Though she had only been a maid, she was happy and fulfilled. Now, as half a mistress, with servants attending her, she felt terribly alone.

The lamp in Meng Lanyi’s room was still lit. Lülan sent a maid to announce her presence, and soon Meng Lanyi emerged. Under the cold moonlight, with the faint fragrance of plum blossom, Meng Lanyi stood poised and proud. Lülan forced a smile, leaning on her maid, bowed with difficulty. “Good evening, Madam.”

Meng Lanyi’s manner was cold and distant, her voice as chilly as the night air. “It’s late. What brings you here?”

“The young master is drunk,” Lülan replied just as coolly, neither subservient nor arrogant.

“Oh?” Meng Lanyi arched an eyebrow. “What’s that to me?”

“He’s your husband. Shouldn’t you tend to him when he’s drunk?” Lülan asked calmly.

Meng Lanyi let out a sudden, icy laugh. “He’s the father of your child. Isn’t it more appropriate for you to care for him?” She turned to leave, but stopped at Lülan’s next words.

“It’s not the same,” Lülan sighed.

It’s not the same.

Meng Lanyi turned back, curiosity in her gaze. “How is it not the same?”

“You, Madam, know better than anyone. Why ask what you already understand?” Lülan’s gaze drifted to her own belly. She paused, then continued, “The young master doesn’t need me, nor the child I carry. As for whom he holds in his heart, whom he loves—if you don’t know, no one does.”

Lülan turned her back to Meng Lanyi. “He’s still in Jade Lotus Court, drinking endlessly. I cannot dissuade him. I think you’re the only one who can. I won’t return tonight. If you feel it unnecessary, you need not go.”

With that, she left, decisive and direct. Meng Lanyi laughed aloud. Like mistress, like maid—this girl truly showed traces of Ye Qianran’s style.

When Lülan entered Bamboo Snow Pavilion, she found Juanbi passing the time alone, trimming candle wicks. Seeing Lülan, she was astonished. Since Lülan had moved to Jade Lotus Court, Juanbi had rarely seen her. When bored, she often recalled their old bickering days. But things had changed; Juanbi remained the same, but Lülan was not who she once was.

Seeing Lülan awkwardly supporting her waist, Juanbi hurried to help. Lülan looked around, and Juanbi’s tone was as blunt as ever, as if they were still as close as before. “No need to look—miss isn’t here. You can come in without worry.”

Her eyes reddened instantly. It was a familiar cadence. In the past, they would argue, fight, make up, then repeat the cycle—never realizing the value of those days until they parted. Now, all the grievances of recent days surged forth: the whispered gossip, Ye An’s neglect, Ye Qianran’s indifference… She had always thought herself strong enough to endure, but Juanbi’s words—hardly tender—made her want to weep uncontrollably, like an orphan meeting a long-lost relative.

Tears fell uncontrollably, splashing on Juanbi’s hand. Frowning, Juanbi helped her to a chair. “Has someone bullied you? Did the maids or old women in the house say something awful again? Tell me who, and I’ll let miss know so she can stand up for you…”

But the tears kept falling, only more fiercely. Standing by her side, Juanbi was helpless as Lülan clung to her, sobbing brokenly.