"...Asked me, who exactly is your husband?" Lan Cao sat on the chair, her expression nearing collapse. "The Pavilion Master, leaning against the doorframe, asked me expressionlessly, 'If he doesn't know you, then who did you marry?'"
"……how do you say?"
"What can I say? Of course, I can only make up a lie, saying that your husband is a young master Xu from Yuyuan Villa, a handsome and refined man who disappeared while doing business in Suzhou and Hangzhou."
"He believed it?"
"...How could I not believe you?" Lan Cao said with a mournful face. "I made it up so convincingly, describing the location of Jade Garden Mountain, the scenery in the garden, the temperament of the estate owner, and even the family business."
"Isn't that it?" Hua Chongyang raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it better to put it that way? Then why are you acting like a cornered dog?"
"...Why?" Lan Cao weakly raised her eyes. "Because—"
Hua Chongyang raised an eyebrow.
Lan Caoqi slumped her shoulders helplessly and sighed deeply.
"That's the problem—after hearing this, the Pavilion Master expressionlessly ordered Lan Shu to kill Xu Qingyu."
"...Xu Qingyu? Who is that?"
"Xu Qingyu," Lan Cao looked at Hua Chongyang earnestly, "the master of Yuyuan Manor, your husband, Fu Shun's father, Xu Qingyu. What do you think of him?"
"……"
"Tell me, what should I do, Hua Chongyang?"
"……"
"Now I'm in a bind, and I realize I've brought this upon myself." Lan Cao sighed. "If I had known, I shouldn't have kept it from him. Whether it's a blessing or a curse, the Pavilion Master can decide for himself. Hua Chongyang, haven't you also blamed me for not telling the Pavilion Master the truth before?"
Hua Chongyang hadn't yet recovered from the new information about the orchids. Hearing him say that, he shook his head in a daze:
"...If it were me, I wouldn't be able to bear seeing him suffer from a splitting headache."
"The Pavilion Master is not one to fear suffering," Lan Cao shook her head. "Now we can only wait for Zu Xian to arrive tomorrow and see what he has to say."
Hua Chongyang was still somewhat dazed. Lan Cao looked at her, walked closer, and poked her shoulder with her finger:
What are you doing?
She looked up in a daze:
"I'm wondering... why did he want to kill Xu Qingyu?"
"……"
"There's no such person. Even if there were, what difference would it make if we killed them?"
"...Lord Hua," Lan Cao said, looking defeated and rubbing her temples, "if I'm not mistaken... his actions are similar to those of countless lecherous thieves, villains, scoundrels, and lackeys throughout the land—the Lord has condescended to send someone to kill an unknown nobody like Xu Qingyu, probably to seize his wife and children."
"……"
The orchid fiercely raises its head:
"What kind of weird look is that? Don't tell me you didn't notice how good the Sect Master has been to you and Fu Shun these past few days."
"...Good? He's good to me?" Hua Chongyang asked in surprise.
The orchid is almost going crazy again:
"He allowed you to live not far away, took Fu Shun in his arms, and even coaxed him—you talked back to him but he didn't do anything, and when he woke up and saw you touching him, he didn't even have you killed—"
"……"
"Isn't that good enough?" Lan Cao sighed. "Don't forget, he is Lan Wuxie."
"...Yes, I almost forgot." Hua Chongyang smiled bitterly, "I only remember how he treated me before—compared to that, what is this?"
Hua Chongyang almost didn't know how to face Lan Wuxie again.
Around noon, the inn's kitchen brought in some snacks. Hua Chongyang sat at the table absentmindedly, picked up a piece, and called out to Lan Fushun:
"Son, come and have something to eat."
Fu Shun was sitting alone by the window, playing with something. Hearing the sound, he only glanced at him without moving. Hua Chongyang turned to look at him, and only then did he climb down from the chair and approach.
"What?"
"A snack." Hua Chongyang had no intention of coaxing him; he pushed the plate closer, "Have a taste."
She was too lazy to coax him to eat more. Since Lan Fushun started eating, his tastes have become almost as picky as Lan Wuxie's. He would never eat anything unless it was made to be extremely exquisite—unless it was something he liked. Unfortunately, he liked very few things, so much so that Ye Laoqi, who usually served him, would often sigh and beg him to open his mouth.
At this moment, Lan Fushun glanced at the dishes and, perhaps sensing Hua Chongyang's distraction, obediently picked up the pastries from the four dishes and tasted them one by one—then climbed down from the chair, picked up the pastries from the second dish, smiled, and approached Hua Chongyang:
"Mom, eat this, it's delicious."
Hua Chongyang hugged him and ate half a pastry together. Looking at the pastry in his hand, he thought for a moment, then put Fushun down.
"Fu Shun, be good and play by yourself for a while. Mom will be right back."
She took the half-plate of snacks and went outside.
Under the flower trellis outside Lan Wuxie's room, dappled sunlight cast shadows. She stepped over the flickering shadows, then hesitated before stopping at the door. The room was silent. She peeked through the half-closed door and saw Lan Wuxie leaning against the headboard, wearing the same snow-white undergarment over a robe as before. Her hair, as black as jade, was disheveled, and she held an old book in her hand, her gaze slightly lost in thought.
Such an expression was most often seen on him when he was half-drunk. When they first met, she would occasionally go there in the middle of the night. In the dead of winter, the room would be warmed by four or five braziers, and he would lean against the couch in a daze, occasionally with a slight smile on his lips—not at all like the ruthless Master of Zhaoyang Pavilion, but more like a lonely child in illness.
Just as I was thinking this, the plate suddenly slammed against the door with a "thud".
Lan Wuxie snapped out of his daze and looked up to see her.
Hua Chongyang had no choice but to take a step forward and enter the room. Before she could say anything, Lan Wuxie glanced at her with apparent impatience and casually tossed aside the book in his hand.
"Where did you get these clothes?"
Hua Chongyang bowed his head.
She wore a blue robe adorned with auspicious dragon and cloud patterns, and a blue silk sash around her waist—this was the same robe and design that Lan Wuxie had personally chosen for her years ago; otherwise, she wouldn't have bothered to bring it. Hua Chongyang didn't answer, but went inside first and handed him the plate.
"Have some snacks. These taste pretty good."
Since Lan Fushun is willing to eat it, then Lan Wuxie should also be able to stomach it.
Lan Wuxie glanced at it, casually picked up a piece, took a small bite, and after a long while said:
"Barely edible."
Hua Chongyang had never thought Lan Wuxie was so deserving of a beating. She finally understood why so many people in the martial arts world hated him—if she weren't Hua Chongyang, and if he hadn't loved her so much, she probably would have wanted to kill him right now: He clearly wanted to possess someone else's wife and son, yet he had to pretend to be impatient in front of others. Wasn't he tired? She barely managed to suppress the urge to kill him, trying her best to ignore Lan Wuxie's awkward demeanor.
"This was a gift from my 'husband'."
She bit out the word "husband" with a fierce tone.
Lan Wuxie paused, tossing the pastry back onto the plate, and then let out a soft hum.
"What a waste of this blue silk."
This time, Hua Chongyang refused to back down. Upon hearing this, he raised an eyebrow and glared back:
"What gives you the right?"
Lan Wuxie looked away, not even raising his head, and touched the books on the bedding, acting as if to kick him out.
Hua Chongyang stepped forward, giving a cold, mocking laugh:
"I happen to have something to ask Master Lan. Why did you send someone to kill my husband?"
Lan Wuxie's expression froze.
Hua Chongyang's long-suppressed emotions finally erupted. A strong urge for revenge surged within him. He crossed his arms, raised his pointed chin triumphantly, and gave Lan Wuxie a provocative, light laugh:
"My husband, the father of my son Lan Fushun, is unparalleled in appearance and elegance, and his martial arts are unmatched in the world. Master Lan, how could you possibly harm him in the slightest?"
Lan Wuxie remained expressionless, her face gradually turning pale before stiffening.
He slowly raised his head and stared at Hua Chongyang, his fingers holding the book trembling slightly:
"What did you just say—your son's name is—Lan Fushun?"
Hua Chongyang was suddenly startled. He went through the process in his mind and a thought suddenly struck him: ...Oh no.
Her first reaction was to turn tail and run away, forget about it, let Lan Cao clean up the mess -- but Lan Wuxie was faster, straightened up, got out of bed and grabbed her sleeve:
"What happened?"
"……"
"You said his name is Lan Fushun?" Lan Wuxie spoke calmly, but her expression was displeased. "Besides Lan Yinggong, is there another person in the world with the surname Lan?"
"...Well," Hua Chongyang tried to argue forcefully, "of course there is!"
"Is that so?" Lan Wuxie pulled her wrist, took two steps back to sit on the bed, and coughed twice. "Lan Ying Palace was built by Grandmaster Lan Ji. She herself said that those with the surname Lan are unique in the world. With her personality, she would never submit to anyone else—cough cough! Madam Xu, is your husband's surname Xu or Lan?"
Hua Chongyang was stubborn:
"Of course it's -- Xu! You're pulling so hard it hurts --"
The pale hand gripping her wrist suddenly tightened its fingers, causing her to recoil in pain. She simultaneously felt the hand's icy coldness. Looking up at him, she saw Lan Wuxie also looking at her, his brows slightly furrowed, his tone suddenly gentle:
"You cried yesterday because you blamed me, didn't you?"
Sweat gradually seeped from his forehead.
It was nearing noon, and the weather had warmed up slightly, but it wasn't hot enough to cause sweating—besides, Hua Chongyang knew best that Lan Wuxie was least afraid of the heat; any sweating at this moment would only be due to pain. Ignoring all that, she hurriedly stepped forward and touched his forehead:
"Is your head hurting again? Why are you sweating?"
"I think I know you—but my mind is all blurry..." Lan Wuxie closed her eyes slightly and then opened them again, but didn't loosen her grip on Hua Chongyang's wrist at all, looking at her, "Your name is Hua Chongyang, isn't it? Your features are exactly the same as in my dream—you can't leave—"
He gasped slightly from the pain, but seeing Hua Chongyang try to get up but not let go, he pulled her closer, raised his other hand to gently touch her eyebrows, his fingers tracing the tip of her brow and then brushing away the stray strands of hair by her ear, finally wiping away the moisture from the corner of her eyes. Seeing the large beads of sweat on his forehead, Hua Chongyang couldn't help but shed tears, wiping them away with one hand as she turned back:
"I won't leave! I won't go anywhere! You lie here and I'll call out to Lan Cao—Lan Cao! Lan Cao!"
After calling several times without response, Hua Chongyang watched anxiously as Lan Wuxie's face grew paler and paler, but he was helpless. He could only wipe his sweat with his sleeve. After a long while, his sleeve was almost soaked through. It was probably past noon when footsteps sounded in the courtyard. Lan Cao pushed open the door:
"Master, Zu Xian has arrived—"
Hua Chongyang breathed a sigh of relief.
At the same time, the five fingers on his wrist loosened, and Lan Wuxie slumped onto the couch, looking at the orchid:
"Don't tell her...to leave even half a step..."
98. The End
In fact, Hua Chongyang not only wouldn't run away, she was absolutely unmovable even if you chased her with a stick. Zu Xian hadn't even had a sip of tea before she was practically forced into the house to take Lan Wuxie's pulse, only to have Zu Xian flinch and step back to avoid Hua Chongyang.
"No need to take your pulse. The unconsciousness is due to a headache."