Drifting Clouds (Part Two)

Greenlan had pierced through her thoughts.
"Actually, I don't even know what I truly feel for him. Perhaps I'm only grateful he saved me," Ye Qianran said ambiguously, her gaze lowered as she fiddled with the hem of her sleeve.
Greenlan laughed again. "Miss has always been exceptionally clever, yet it seems even you can become muddled when it comes to matters of the heart. Why only 'perhaps grateful'? Isn't there still a faint hope for him in your heart?" she leaned in, probing.
Ye Qianran fell silent once more.
Nothing prompts silence more than someone striking at the hidden depths of one's heart.
The night grew darker.
A faint sigh drifted from ahead, near the phoenix tree.
Ye Qianran drew a sharp breath, her body instantly tensed.
Greenlan shuddered, leaping up warily, "Who’s there?"
Ye An slowly emerged from beneath the tree.
Ye Qianran relaxed, her body softening. Greenlan was about to bow, but Ye An waved a hand to dismiss the gesture, and sat down beside Ye Qianran where Greenlan had been moments before.
"It's so late, is there something brother needs?" Ye Qianran asked, turning toward him.
Ye An opened his hand, revealing a leaf-shaped sheep-fat jade pendant that glowed gently in the moonlight.
"What is this?"
Ye An looked at the pendant. "It's Liuyun's jade. I had thought to send Juanbi to return it to him, but now I think it's best he comes for it himself."
"Such a minor matter didn't need brother to come all the way. You could have simply sent a servant."
"This is important to Liuyun. Girls tend to give me peace of mind. Besides, I had nothing else to do, so I came to see you."
Ye Qianran smiled. "Brother is always so attentive. If any young lady marries you, she will live a blessed life."

Ye An recalled how she had teased him earlier in the day; compared to her words now, he couldn't help but chuckle, "Who was it that said brother was tactless and would never marry?"
Ye Qianran instantly protested, "Brother, I was sincerely praising you, yet you still mock me for what I said before!" Though she spoke in anger, there was more of a playful pout in her tone.
Ye An immediately stopped laughing, pleading, "Alright, little sister, your brother was only joking. How could I dare to mock you?"
Ye Qianran looked triumphant, yet she remained quiet, head lowered, fiddling with her sleeve—because suddenly, it occurred to her that Ye An might have overheard her conversation with Greenlan.
Ye An, seeing her silence, waved Greenlan away, a faint bitterness rising in his heart.
He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, straightened up, and gazed at the moonlight. "Liuyun and I are the same age. When I was ten, Father took me to congratulate Uncle Zhuge on his birthday, and that's when I met Liuyun and Qingfeng. We became close, since our families often interacted and our ages matched. The three of us frequently played together. He was exceptionally gifted, and as Zhuge’s eldest son, Uncle held great expectations for him and was strict in his upbringing. When he turned seventeen, he fell in love with a poor girl. By then, Uncle Zhuge was already a second-rank minister in the Ministry of War and firmly opposed the match. The girl, pressured by her family, married an old and ugly country squire. I don’t know what happened afterward, but I do know Liuyun changed completely after that.
He had once been a spirited youth, filled with grand ideals for the country and its people, passionately detesting evil, indifferent to political intrigue. Now, he cares for nothing—no dreams, no ambitions, no hatred for foes or wrongs. To him, the post of commander of the imperial guards is no different from being a server in a tavern, merely a means to survive. He treats everyone with the same distant attitude—not liking nor disliking, neither accepting nor rejecting."
Ye An finished, silent for a long time.
Ye Qianran’s fingertips felt cold, her heart aching. The pain furrowed her brows, yet within that discomfort was a strange, inexplicable joy. She had once known nothing about him; now, whether good or bad, she finally understood a little of his life. Even if it was only the tip of the iceberg, she began to grasp why he was so lonely, so stubborn—and felt she could almost share in his feelings.
That near-drowning had changed her, for in that moment she discovered what she most feared. To ease her terror, she forced herself to become strong.
Perhaps he, too, had discovered his fatal weakness then, and so chose to change himself?
Now, she yearned to see him immediately, to look into his eyes, at his brows, at his pressed lips—just to see him, even for a moment. She clenched her hands tightly, using all her strength to resist the wild impulse that suddenly surged within her.
No, absolutely not. She must always hold the initiative in matters of feeling. She could not allow herself to fall first. Never.
She loathed the feeling of losing control. If she plunged forward and he remained unmoved, she would be destroyed—lost forever.
She thought again of that near-drowning—the water rising over her ankles, her waist, her neck, her lips. No matter how she screamed herself hoarse, how desperately she struggled, she only sank deeper and deeper, terror flooding her heart. If someone had ended her life then, she might have felt relief—anything to escape that fear worse than death.
Her clenched hands slowly relaxed.
She calmed herself.
By the moonlight, she could faintly see the crescent-shaped red marks her nails had left in her palm—shocking scars. For so many years, she had seldom lost control, because each time she forced herself to recall the terror after drowning. Whenever she remembered, she would slowly regain her composure. She believed that nothing in this world could frighten her more than drowning.
"If you wish not to see him, send Juanbi to return it. If you wish to see him, keep the jade and let him come for it himself," Ye An placed the sheep-fat jade in her palm and closed her fingers around it.

When Ye An left, she was still gazing blankly at the jade. He turned back for a deep look, lips twitching, his heart swelling with helplessness and reluctance. Qianran, I do not know if this is for your own good, or if I am harming you. As long as you know, whatever happens, your brother hopes you find happiness.
The sheep-fat jade remained in her palm, a surge of complicated emotions rising within her. What should she do—return it, or keep it? Yet what would keeping it mean? She had no confidence that he would ever care for her. When he stood at her side, that distant, indifferent air, as if all the world’s chaos meant nothing to him—she was so close, yet could not reach out. She never acted without certainty, yet those things she could grasp were not what she truly desired. Even if they lay within easy reach, what meaning did it hold? She could not fathom why people were so riddled with contradictions—what one wants, one cannot have; what one does not want, lies before their eyes. Those who love you, you do not love; those you love, do not love you. Round and round, there is never an answer.
She had always held herself in high regard. Those spoiled sons of wealth, posing as scholars and gentlemen, would flatter her, feign sophistication, circle her with their attentions and deliberate praise—but their very presence irritated her. She once believed she would never marry, that if she could not find what she sought, she would rather grow old alone than settle for less.
But now, he stood before her, and she shrank back—afraid. She thought she could understand everyone, but now she felt increasingly unsure. She began to think those rich young men were better, for at least they did not make her feel helpless.
She laughed at herself. She was always so dissatisfied, never cherishing what she had, and longing for what she could not obtain.
She wondered if it was her own pride, her own indulgence.
She looked at the sheep-fat jade in her hand, lustrous and pure, white as snow, like congealed cream—held in her palm, it was like cupping a pool of clear spring water, cool and refreshing.
She rose slowly, pulling her cloak tighter around her, and turned to enter Bamboo Snow Pavilion.
Greenlan was embroidering a sachet by candlelight, while Juanbi sat beside her, watching closely and chatting now and then. Seeing Ye Qianran at the door, Juanbi hurried to help her, her legs numb from sitting too long. As she supported her, she asked, "What was Miss thinking about? Greenlan wouldn’t let me disturb you."
Ye Qianran did not answer, letting Juanbi lead her to the bed, then waved her hand, "You two go rest now. I am very tired."
Juanbi quietly pulled down the curtain and withdrew.
The room was tranquil, scented faintly with sandalwood. Ye Qianran did not sleep. She sat by the window, moonlight spilling through the gauze, shadows of the trees flickering across the floor, dappling the moonlight. Occasionally, a dog barked, startling birds from their perches with a rustle of wings.
Ye Qianran lit a candle and, by its gentle glow, looked at her reflection in the bronze mirror—a youthful, beautiful face. Her fingers traced her features, inch by inch. From childhood, she had been praised for her beauty—an oval face, square jawbone, pure black eyes with no blemish, long dark lashes and upturned corners lending her charm, two arched willow brows, skin as pale as magnolia, pure yet enchanting. So many had bowed before this visage; she had once felt grateful, once resentful. Everyone noticed only her lovely face, never caring about the person beneath it.
Outwardly, a riot of blossoms; inwardly, desolation.
She set down the mirror, resolved in her heart. She believed she was worthy of the best.
That night, she slept deeply. Once certain matters are understood, the mind clears and all becomes bright.