Chapter 30: Deep Affection, Fleeting Fate—A Farewell (End of Volume One)

Shen Yu ultimately forced Han Chu to leave, driving her away with hurtful words and compelling her to follow Yun Ci to Fangzhou.

Before her departure, Shen Yu made a point of sending someone to the Marquis of Wenchang’s residence to retrieve Han Chu’s indenture contract, then tore it to shreds before her eyes.

“Go with Wan Zhi. From now on, take care of yourself,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady and gentle, free of anger or sorrow.

Han Chu could hardly believe what she saw, staring at the scattered fragments of paper in silence. She had never imagined Shen Yu would destroy her contract.

Her stunned expression struck Shen Yu deeply. He turned his face away, only glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “What’s with that look? Still want to stay? Are you dissatisfied with how much trouble you’ve brought me? It’s better you leave. You have too many old lovers in Jingzhou; sooner or later, the truth will come out.”

At his words, Han Chu simply lifted her gaze to study him, her expression inscrutable, remaining silent.

Shen Yu still refused to look at her directly, yet all his attention was fixed on her. He didn’t know what he expected—did he hope she would insist on staying, or that she would see through his false words?

He couldn’t fathom her thoughts. All he knew was that he wanted to keep watching her. From this moment forth, every glance would be one less than before.

Delay after delay, mistake after mistake—this was the fate he was destined for.

“Wan Zhi is as close as a brother to me. Serve him well, and don’t let others think that I, the young marquis, raised someone without discipline.” Shen Yu offered his advice, feigning indifference. “Don’t think of Helian Qi anymore, and don’t contact Drunken Flower Pavilion.”

He ended with a self-mocking smile, murmuring, “With Wan Zhi there, you’ll forget Helian Qi soon enough.”

He thought he had spoken softly enough, yet Han Chu heard him. He saw two sparkling tears fall from her lashes, and then, suddenly, she bowed deeply, and knocked her head heavily on the ground before him.

No words were needed; Shen Yu understood her intent. This scene so closely resembled that night when Drunken Flower Pavilion caught fire—then, too, she had bowed to Madam Feng in gratitude for her upbringing.

Now, after having possessed her for barely over a hundred days, he received such a gift from her. The taste this time was entirely different.

He should have felt comforted—after all, the woman he valued possessed a clever, discerning heart. Though he had mocked and spoken harshly to her, she still understood his meaning. Yet she did not understand his feelings.

Unable to restrain himself at this final moment of parting, Shen Yu watched her deeply bowed silhouette and blurted out a question: “Han Chu, what am I to you?”

Han Chu rose slowly, thought for a moment, then walked to the desk and wrote: “Your kindness will never be forgotten.”

Shen Yu smiled at the words, though the smile tasted bittersweet. What else could he say?

The girl before him had loved Helian Qi, admired Yun Ci, and for him, felt only deep gratitude. It was the sincerest attitude, but the most superficial affection.

That was the most painful—“gratitude” was but a façade; in her heart, he was merely a stranger.

His ridiculous masculine pride forced him to pretend to be satisfied, replying, “At least you have a conscience. It wasn’t for nothing that I cared for you.”

Han Chu held back the tears in her eyes, pressed her lips into a faint smile, and once more pointed to the four characters—“never be forgotten.”

The calligraphy, slender and elegant, echoed another’s handwriting.

Shen Yu’s gaze drifted from the paper to Han Chu’s face, lingering for a long time before he drew a dagger from his sleeve. “Though our time together was brief, we did meet. I acquired this dagger by chance; let me give it to you for protection.”

He couldn’t resist teasing her again: “You are, after all, the greatest beauty of Nanxi. You must beware of lecherous men.”

Han Chu was amused by his words and quickly thanked him, accepting the dagger. She had indeed received many gifts recently! The sheath was exquisitely crafted, small and delicate; the blade shimmered with a cold gleam, sharp and chilling. It was clearly no ordinary item.

She never imagined she would fall in love with a dagger at first sight. As she caressed the hilt, she noticed the character “Shen” engraved there, puzzled, she looked up at Shen Yu in silent inquiry.

Shen Yu understood her question and glanced at the character, replying, “‘Shen’ is the name of the master craftsman. His weapons are unmatched, with blades of peerless sharpness.”

Han Chu understood and carefully put away the dagger, saying nothing more.

Seeing her so fond of the dagger brought Shen Yu some comfort.

Though she was the woman who touched his heart, he had never shown her kindness, causing them to miss each other time and again. Her every smile and frown was never for him—save for this moment, but there would not be another.

A cruel irony.

Shen Yu still harbored a faint hope, and so he said to Han Chu, somewhat obliquely, “Wan Zhi will not treat you poorly. But…if you ever miss Jingzhou, you may bring this dagger to the Marquis of Wenchang’s residence to visit me. No one will stop you. It is a token.”

He felt he had never spoken so sincerely, yet he knew Han Chu might not understand.

*****

Yun Ci lingered only two days in Jingzhou before setting out for Fangzhou. When Han Chu left, besides her clothes, she took only three things: writing materials, a guqin, and the dagger.

It seemed a happy ending for all. Yun Ci gained a gentle, thoughtful companion; Han Chu escaped the relentless pursuit of the Ming family; even Shen Yu felt his guilt toward the Yun family lessen somewhat.

On the day of departure, the procession escorting the heir of Marquis Lixin was grand, nearly a hundred people in all. Shen Yu smiled as he saw them out of the city gates, confident that no sadness would show.

That night, he did not return to the Marquis of Wenchang’s manor, but stayed at Zhuihong Garden.

Whether to reminisce or to regret, Shen Yu sat alone all night in the courtyard where Han Chu once lived. He saw only Zhu Xue once, and then made a decision—to send Chacha away.

“Young master, are you really sending Chacha away? Chacha truly knows her mistake…” The woman in red, who had just suffered a miscarriage, knelt crying on the floor, her voice hoarse, but Shen Yu remained unmoved.

Sitting on Han Chu’s bed, Shen Yu picked up a few strands of hair from the pillow, holding them expressionlessly. No matter how the woman pleaded, even threatening to die for her crime, he remained indifferent.

Zhu Xue and Liu Guang stood in the room, watching, knowing this time the young marquis was truly resolute.

No one dared speak. For a long while, only Chacha’s crying and begging could be heard. Who knows how long it lasted before Shen Yu finally spoke, his voice rough: “You should be happy. The Ming family is nobility, and Ming Second Young Master is willing to take you. That’s your fortune.”

Chacha shook her head desperately. “No, no, Chacha truly knows her mistake…”

“Oh? What mistake did you make?” Shen Yu’s tone was calm but icy.

He didn’t wait for Chacha to answer, a look of disgust flashing across his face. “I once trusted you, but you sowed discord between me and Han Chu. People seek to rise; now that she follows the heir of Marquis Lixin, I cannot treat you poorly.”

Shen Yu finally looked down at Chacha. The once charming beauty was now a ghostly figure, clutching his leg, refusing to let go.

His gaze turned cold and decisive, fixed on her. “Wasn’t it you who urged Zhu Xue to inform the Ming family that there was a runaway slave in Zhuihong Garden?”

“Beautiful and skilled at the zither—wasn’t that you?” His tone grew sharper. “Chacha, I remember you play the zither as well. I even gave you one.”

But that instrument was long gone. “Young master…” Those words, Chacha had uttered countless times—sometimes respectfully, sometimes coyly, sometimes with deep affection. But never had she called him with such despair as today, beyond redemption.

Her shoulders shook as she wept bitterly, and when she finally came to her senses, pain scorched her scalp—Shen Yu had grabbed a fistful of her hair.

“If you’re a runaway slave from the Ming family, shouldn’t you be sent back? I expect you’ll do well there—after all, you have some skill in bed.”

As he spoke, Shen Yu’s eyes turned bloodshot. Unable to contain his accumulated anger, he kicked Chacha hard. “If you’re smart, keep your mouth shut at the Ming family! Otherwise, not only will you offend Marquis Lixin, but your lover won’t survive either!”

Chacha continued to cry, her voice hoarse, unable even to become the concubine of the Marquis of Wenchang’s youngest son, much less hope to win the Ming Second Young Master’s favor—especially after losing her virginity and suffering a miscarriage.

The young marquis was truly merciless!

The more Chacha thought, the colder her heart became; ignoring the pain in her shoulder from Shen Yu’s kick, she desperately tried to appeal to his last shred of pity. “Young master, for the sake of serving you, for the sake of the child… Ming Cui is notorious for abusing women, I…”

“I once cherished you, but you betrayed that,” Shen Yu coldly cut off her plea, his voice as icy as a frozen wasteland, his teeth clenched. “Chacha, whose child was it, really? You know, don’t you?”

Chacha’s face turned deathly pale.

Having just miscarried, she looked haggard, and Shen Yu finally grew impatient, waving to Liu Guang. “Take her away and clean her up; send her off once she’s recovered. Don’t let Ming Cui think I have poor taste and favored a ghost!”

Liu Guang, terrified, hurried to drag Chacha out of the room.

The room sank into silence again, broken only by Zhu Xue’s trembling voice. She feared Shen Yu would punish her for spreading rumors to the Ming family, but after waiting a while, all she heard was: “How did you know Chacha was unfaithful?”

Zhu Xue, terrified, knelt and begged forgiveness, but her answer missed the mark. “Zhu Xue knows her mistake…”

Shen Yu sneered, too weary to pursue it. “Don’t defile this room. Out!”

Zhu Xue’s sweat ran cold as she left without delay.

So the room was empty once more, and the desolation and loneliness pressing in on Shen Yu nearly suffocated him.

He still held a few broken strands of Han Chu’s hair, remnants of his obsession through the years—frail and pitiful.

A thunderclap resounded, signaling the last rain of autumn. Shen Yu rose and closed the window, fearing the rain might dampen the dust of the room.

Along with the window, he closed a door in his heart.

Love given and received, counted or not, hardly matters anymore. He never had the chance to tell her—the “Shen” character on the dagger was not the craftsman’s name.

Because he owned a dagger of the same design, but with the character “Love” engraved.

Though his love was deep, fate was shallow.

The greatest regret—she never knew him.

(End of Volume One)