Chapter 70: The Mountain Vow Endures in an Old Brocade Letter

"Madam!" Shen Yu hurriedly rose, stepping in front of Chu Xiu and said, "Please leave!"

"This is the Yun residence. Why should I leave?" The old lady’s face was calm and severe; under the candlelight, one could still see her frosted hair and the fine lines of age.

As she spoke, she took a step into the room, her expression composed, her gait steady, as if overnight she had returned to being the respected Lady Xie, who had presided over the Yun family for more than a decade.

"Madam!" Shen Yu hastily moved to block her path, reaching out to stop her and whispered, "Don’t forget what you promised Wan Zhi..."

"I have not forgotten," the old lady met Shen Yu’s gaze unflinchingly. "I will only speak a few words with her. Whether she stays or leaves afterward, the Yun family will not prevent her."

"Please show some respect, Madam!" At these words, Shen Yu’s patience frayed, and he lowered his voice further. "Wan Zhi’s body is barely cold, must you ensure he cannot rest in peace?"

"It is precisely because my son’s body is barely cold that I must come here tonight!" The old lady’s presence radiated an air of command, her words and expression brooking no challenge. She raised her hand and pushed Shen Yu aside, snapping, "Stand aside!"

Unprepared, Shen Yu stumbled backward. By the time he regained his balance, the old lady had already strode to the side of Chu Xiu’s couch and was bending over her.

As for Chu Xiu, she was biting her lip, clutching her wounded shoulder as she forced herself upright. When she saw that the old lady, usually dressed in understated finery, was now also in plain white, her heart lurched, and she could not help coughing.

In the old lady’s eyes there was a mingling of resentment and anger, sorrow and pity. When she saw Shen Yu about to intervene again, she called coldly, "Guards!"

From outside came a chorus of responses, "Madam!"—the voices of dozens. The old lady turned to Shen Yu and said, "Ci’er has just passed away and I have no wish to shed blood within these walls. If you are wise, Young Marquis, you will withdraw."

The words "barely cold" fell chillingly from her lips, startling both Shen Yu and Chu Xiu. Shen Yu realized for the first time that these people were not the usual house guards, but the iron-masked shadow guards raised by the Yun family.

But tonight, entrusted by Yun Ci, how could Shen Yu fear them? Even at the risk of his life, he would protect Han Chu! Thus, faced with the old lady’s naked threat, he did not move, declaring resolutely, "Even if I must spill my blood here today, I cannot obey."

At this, the old lady’s eyes narrowed, surprised and perhaps approving, as she looked him up and down before nodding slowly. "Good. Good! No wonder Ci’er still trusted you even at the end. Well done."

"Please be careful with your words!" Shen Yu knew the old lady was being deliberate, first mentioning Yun Ci’s death, now alluding to his final moments—she wanted Han Chu to hear every word.

The candlelight in the room flickered, the air thick with danger. Just then, Chu Xiu spoke, her voice faint: "Young Marquis, please leave."

"Han Chu!" Shen Yu frowned at the woman reclining on the couch, only half of her form visible in the shadow beyond the candle’s reach, her face, expression, and wounded left shoulder all hidden.

"Young Marquis, please withdraw. I have something to say to Madam," her voice even hoarser than before. Shen Yu’s worry deepened, and he insisted, "Whatever it is, it can wait until you’ve recovered."

At this, the old lady sneered, "So you refuse—"

But Chu Xiu cut her off, "Young Marquis, do you wish to see me die?"

"What are you saying!" Shen Yu was alarmed, sensing the threat behind her words and filled with dread. "You know I—"

"Then please leave," Chu Xiu coughed softly, shifting in the shadows. "If I do not get answers tonight, you may save me for a moment, but not for a lifetime."

She was staking her life on this! But Shen Yu cared only for Chu Xiu, knowing her nature too well; he could only grit his teeth and glare at the old lady, saying, "I leave her in your care. She is not yet healed; do not agitate her."

The old lady merely glanced coldly at him and said nothing.

Shen Yu felt powerless. Alone in the Yun residence, and faced with Han Chu’s resolute character, he began to suspect Yun Ci’s arrangements in life might have been misplaced.

With such a mother, Shen Yu did not know whether to be glad or sorrowful for Yun Ci. He stepped out and looked around; sure enough, forty shadow guards knelt in the courtyard in five rows of eight, heads bowed in obedience.

One, apparently the leader, rose and saluted Shen Yu. "Young Marquis, forgive us."

He ignored the apology, instead gazing into the dim room. "I’m not going anywhere. I will stand guard here. If you wish to act, do so."

At these words, the leader fell silent. Their orders were only to watch Shen Yu, not take him elsewhere. Guarding him in the courtyard would suffice.

The leader signaled with his left arm, and the guards rose to encircle Shen Yu. He paid them no heed, staring intently at the door, his face set with deep worry.

Long moments passed inside, but Shen Yu could well imagine what the old lady was telling Chu Xiu. Suddenly, from within came a harrowing cry, raw and piercing, the sound of a soul in torment.

It was Han Chu! Hoarse as the voice was, Shen Yu knew it at once. She had found out! Yun Ci’s painstaking efforts had been undone, destroyed by those closest to him—by the deranged Qian Yun and the heartless Lady Xie.

Shen Yu rushed toward the door, fearful for Chu Xiu, but the guards drew their blades and barred his way. Unable to endure any longer, Shen Yu struck the nearest guard, a flash of steel slicing the man’s throat.

In an instant, Shen Yu snatched up the fallen guard’s sword, watching him die before his eyes. Sword in one hand, dagger in the other—the same dagger Qian Yun had used to wound Chu Xiu—Shen Yu stood tall, fury blazing.

The remaining thirty-nine guards were shocked—first that he had truly attacked, second at his skill. Seeing their comrade slain, they attacked in anger, yet held back, not daring to kill.

Shen Yu dodged and parried, retreating, his eyes bloodshot as he bellowed, "Madam!"

"Stop!" came the old lady’s command from within. "Let him in."

The guards parted. Shen Yu rushed inside and saw Chu Xiu curled on the couch, hugging her knees, expressionless, her tears still glistening though she had ceased to weep, pale and dazed.

Were it not for the tears on her cheeks, Shen Yu might have thought her dead. Drawing closer, he saw her trembling, clutching a piece of paper in her left hand—surely what the old lady had brought.

He gently turned her shoulder, checking her wound—thankfully, the injury had not reopened. The old lady’s face was tinged with sorrow, but she remained composed.

"I must take Han Chu away at once!" Shen Yu, heedless of propriety, faced the old lady. "I respect you as Wan Zhi’s mother. Please, honor his last wish."

The old lady gave no reaction, not even glancing at him. "Whether she stays or goes is not for you to decide."

Shen Yu’s fists clenched. He turned to Chu Xiu. "Did you not ask me to take you away? Let us go now, at once."

At last, Chu Xiu lifted her head, brushing damp hair from her cheek, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at Shen Yu. "Very well. I am tired. When my shoulder has healed, I will go with you."

Relief filled Shen Yu’s face. "It’s a promise."

"It is," Chu Xiu replied hollowly, then turned to the old lady. "I have disappointed you. Since this is the Marquis’s final wish, I will honor it."

Disappointment flashed across the old lady’s face as she closed her eyes. "I misjudged you, and overestimated your feelings for Ci’er. So be it—go."

"I wish to wait until the Marquis’s seventh-day rites are over before I leave. I ask your permission," Chu Xiu said humbly.

The old lady, wearied and sorrowful, nodded. "Very well. It is already late February, and the stewards of every region and trade should be coming to report. I did not expect it to coincide with Ci’er’s funeral."

Her smile was bitterer than tears as she turned to leave. After a few steps, she looked back at Chu Xiu. "That paper—I leave it with you as a keepsake." With that, she departed without a backward glance.

At those words, Chu Xiu’s tears fell silently, like broken pearls, but she could not even cry aloud, her earlier outburst having left her voice in tatters. Now, she could only sob inwardly, voiceless as in a nightmare.

Shen Yu reached out to comfort her, his hand suspended in midair, but was stopped—not by Chu Xiu’s hand, but by the piece of paper she released onto the couch.

Faint and wavering in the dim candlelight, the slightly yellowed paper was covered in tiny, dense writing. Shen Yu could not make out the words, but at the bottom, two names stood side by side in neat, slender characters: Yun Ci and Chu Xiu. Next to their names were two bright red fingerprints.

Shen Yu picked up the paper with trembling hands and steadied himself, seeing at the top two bold characters: "Marriage Contract."

In that instant, Shen Yu understood—this was what Yun Ci had treasured, what he had meant to offer Han Chu as her rightful place.

Yet though the promise remained, the man was gone. All that was left was an unfulfilled marriage contract, a testament to their tragic love and Yun Ci’s most precious keepsake.

The vow endured, but the letter could not be delivered.