Chapter 53: Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms (Part 2)

Wei Zhuang listened to her earnest words, a smile blooming at the corner of his lips and spreading coolly into his pitch-black eyes. "If you truly were the same as me, I wouldn't need to work so hard," he said, turning to look at her, his smile both genuine and false.

Ye Qianran sensed something, but couldn't quite grasp it. She avoided his gaze. "What does sir mean by that?"

Whatever lingered in those dark eyes slowly faded away, but his smile remained as the fine spring breeze brushed their faces, scented with flowers and sunlit warmth. He answered her question with another, unrelated reply. "Zhuge Liuyun has gone southwest. Did he propose to you before he left?"

Ye Qianran paused in her steps for a moment, then smiled. "That's a rather odd question, sir. Why should he need to propose simply because he went southwest?"

"The war between the court and the princes won't end easily—three to five years if quick, ten years or more if slow. Yet he leaves you alone in the capital, seemingly unconcerned." As he spoke, he glanced sidelong at her. Ye Qianran stopped, her expression bewildered, as if she hadn't quite caught on.

He continued, "If he doesn't return in three or five years, even ten or eight, will you continue to wait for him?"

Ye Qianran smiled lightly. "Sir, don't try to frighten me. Everyone knows the court is bound to win this war. I have always believed the Sixth Prince would not accept being weakened and would surely resist, but I never doubted his inevitable defeat. Now, the nation prospers and the people are at peace; rebellion is unpopular. To hold out for one or two years would already be remarkable, let alone ten or eight."

Wei Zhuang chuckled. "If I weren't confident, I wouldn't have chosen to follow the Sixth Prince. The court may have strong armies, but there are few generals capable of leading them. The old are too old, the young too young—an awkward transition. Look at Lantian and Zhuge Liuyun; they're prime examples."

"You..." Ye Qianran stared at him in disbelief. "How can you be so bold, openly admitting you’ve joined the Sixth Prince?"

Wei Zhuang laughed heartily. "If I were afraid, I wouldn’t be so blatant. Besides, I know you won't tell anyone." As they walked, he carefully brushed aside stray flower branches for her. Ye Qianran looked up at him—a refined man, with a subtle air of danger beneath his cultured demeanor. No matter how rumors painted him outside, he treated her well, yet she realized she knew little about him, not even his exact age. Before she could ponder further, she asked, "Sir, how old are you?" The words startled her as soon as they left her lips, regret and embarrassment flooding her face. How could she ask such a question? She heard Wei Zhuang's low, mischievous laughter and quickly covered her face with a handkerchief, forcing herself to ask, "Why are you laughing, sir?"

Wei Zhuang deliberately suppressed his smile. Something surfaced in his dark eyes. "I am twenty-seven and have not yet married."

Her face flushed instantly. Ye Qianran knew he'd misunderstood her intent, yet there was no way to explain why she’d asked such an indiscreet question. She pressed on, "How is it that at your age, you have not married?"

Wei Zhuang smiled gently. "I've grown accustomed to freedom and never considered marriage. I suspect I’ll never marry in this lifetime."

Ye Qianran was taken aback and blurted, "What about Miss Qingcheng?" Instantly, she bit her lip in frustration, wondering what had gotten into her—circling around others' private matters all day. Anyone watching might think she fancied him. This time, Wei Zhuang did not laugh. A mysterious depth appeared on his face. "Qingcheng is wonderful, truly wonderful. If it's not that I am too lonely, then perhaps it's because she is too good..."

Ye Qianran gazed at him, dazed. This enigmatic man, occasionally revealing loneliness, always made her lose herself. She was filled with curiosity about him—what he was like when sad, happy, angry, or sorrowful. She wanted to know so much, yet knew so little. She wasn’t sure what these feelings meant, but she knew it wasn’t right. She shouldn’t feel curious about him, nor had any reason to.

"You’ve asked me so many private questions. Shouldn’t you answer one of mine?" That fleeting loneliness vanished so quickly Ye Qianran wondered if she’d imagined it.

"What question?"

"If," he said softly, "if Zhuge Liuyun never returns, will you continue to wait for him?"

The wind swept over the mountains, scattered the clouds, brushed the green waters, and filled the peach groves. She caught a drifting petal, its soft, smooth touch lingering at her fingertips. "He promised to return and marry me, and I promised to wait for him. As for the rest, I won’t think about it now."

Under the blue sky and white clouds, with songbirds calling and peach blossoms ablaze, the water-blue young lady reminded one of Zhang Ruoxu's "face among the peach blossoms." Wei Zhuang smiled softly, squinting at the distant horizon.

After parting from Wei Zhuang, Ye Qianran and Juanbi lingered in the peach blossom grove. Ye Qianran insisted on waiting for dusk, imagining the brilliant clouds illuminating the green leaves and red flowers covering the hills—a dazzling, beautiful sight. True to her expectations, the setting sun bled across the sky, the evening glow spreading like celestial brocade woven by a fairy’s shuttle. Layer upon layer, the colors were magnificent and strange, like an abstract painting rendered in bold strokes. The radiant peach blossoms, verdant mountains, swaying woods, wild geese flying across, and distant curling smoke—though full of earthly warmth, it felt as though she were in the highest heavens, a vast, beautiful dream reminding her of Tao Yuanming’s Peach Blossom Spring. Only, there were no neat houses, no intersecting paths, nor flowers blooming along the roads—otherwise, it would be another earthly paradise.

The carriage traveled along the mountain path, flanked by endless ridges. Gradually, the scenery became dense thickets. Through the gaps in the woods, the dying sun was visible, and returning birds circled overhead—a scene of breathtaking desolation. Lowering the curtain, Ye Qianran suddenly recalled her previous encounter returning from Suzhou to the capital, her heart skipping as if something might happen. Before she could shake off the thought, a horse neighed loudly and the carriage jolted to a halt.

Ye Qianran realized trouble was brewing. A weak-voiced man drawled, "Miss, please step down."

Clearly, they had come prepared.

Juanbi looked at Ye Qianran in panic, but in the face of danger, Ye Qianran suddenly felt calm, as if it were no big deal. She patted Juanbi’s hand, lifted the curtain, and stepped out.

Ahead stood seven or eight figures. The slightly younger man sat astride a horse, dressed in fine clothes—a nobleman. The others wore rough linen, standing by the horses. The nobleman glanced at her arrogantly, idly twisting the ring on his thumb. "You are Ye Qianran? Are you the one who called me a gilded fool, flashy on the outside but rotten within?"

Ye Qianran was momentarily stunned, her mind racing, unable to recall who he was. She could only ask helplessly, "May I ask your name, sir...?"

She realized this question must have angered him, for his reply was laced with annoyance. "You certainly forget important people." A slightly plump man standing nearby chimed in, "This is Young Master Wu Ling from the household of Lord Wu Duan."

Wu Duan was a second-rank official, Grand Scholar of Donghua Pavilion, a man of great status known as Minister Wu.

Ye Qianran suddenly remembered how she had offended him: around mid-February, Wu Ling and his father came to propose marriage. Ye Qianran eavesdropped from the next room; Wu Ling hadn’t seen her, but she saw him. From his words and careless demeanor, she immediately judged him a wastrel, and discussed it privately. Somehow, those words reached his ears.

Wu Ling went on, "I never wanted to propose, but for my father’s sake, I did. Not only did you reject me, but you slandered me behind my back. This is intolerable. In this world, only I refuse others—never have others refused me. Today, I’ll see what makes you so bold." With that, he raised his chin, and two men stepped forward—one grabbed Juanbi, the other dragged Ye Qianran to the front of the horses.

Ah Sheng seemed ready to intervene, but Ye Qianran’s look held him back. Wu Ling leaned down to inspect her, but Ye Qianran deliberately turned her head away. The hand gripping her arm tightened. Wu Ling grabbed her chin, his eyes slowly sweeping over her brows, eyes, lips, nose, and then, satisfied, released her. "A beauty, indeed. But after offending me, you’ll have no good days ahead."

Ye Qianran smiled coldly. "Under the emperor’s nose, in the bright capital, Young Master Wu dares flout the law so brazenly—quite astonishing."

Wu Ling looked down at her. "Law? I am the law. Who do you think you are? The daughter of a mere merchant dares act so arrogantly. Let me tell you: today, even if I abduct you or kill you and dump your body in the wild, no one will dare touch me."

"You’re far too arrogant, Young Master Wu. Your father is but a minor official, yet you act lawlessly. It’s truly shameful."

"Hmph..." Wu Ling scoffed, "You’re obviously not ordinary. Most people who offend me come begging for forgiveness. You, however, remain defiant." He dismounted. "I’m used to playing with obedient women. Today, encountering a stubborn one is a refreshing change. The more you resist, the more impatient I become. Tell me, what should I do?" His tone was mocking and malicious. Ye Qianran instinctively stepped back, but her arm was firmly held.

Laughter erupted around them, echoing in the twilight, eerily sinister.

Only now did Ye Qianran realize the true danger. Her earlier bravado stemmed from vague confidence in Wu Duan’s friendship with her father, believing he wouldn’t dare harm her. Now she saw how mistaken she was—she had underestimated the situation, thinking too simply.

Wu Ling reached to touch her face, his expression hungry. Ye Qianran turned away in disgust, but he yanked her hair, his face close to her ear, voice icily menacing. "Let me tell you: there’s nothing I can’t have in this world. You won’t break that rule. You refused my proposal—now you’ve brought this upon yourself."

He finished by flinging her onto the roadside grass. Those familiar with his ways understood immediately; several men rushed to restrain Ah Sheng, then split into two groups, standing at a measured distance from Wu Ling and his men.

The dusk deepened; occasionally, the cry of a crow pierced the air. The shadows of the trees wavered, dense and undulating like rising waves of darkness.