Chapter Fifty: The End of Affection

He knew Feng Qiuji had not returned to the Prime Minister’s residence and was somewhat worried she might have encountered trouble, so he sent Wen Changfeng to secretly investigate her whereabouts. In the end, he found out she had become a mountain bandit... Though he was speechless, he also recognized this was exactly Feng Qiuji’s style. So he thought, let it be; if that’s what she likes, then let her do as she wishes.

He felt stifled inside. Even though he hadn’t had dinner, he wasn’t hungry; he just wanted to take a walk.

The weather was growing colder, and the night wind even chillier. Gazing into the vast darkness, Ling Zetian felt deeply lonely. His father, the emperor, was dead, his mother too. His other siblings had all either married or been granted titles and sent away. Ling Zexin, favored by their father despite his idleness, was kept in the capital out of concern he wouldn’t survive on his own if sent elsewhere. Now, in this desolate palace, other than the endless ranks of eunuchs, maids, and guards, he had no family left. There were still a few consorts, but he had no interest in them and had never even met them.

Suddenly, he found himself questioning the purpose of his existence. In the past, his goal had been the welfare of the common people. But thinking about it now—was he truly living just for the sake of the masses?

For a fleeting moment, he wanted nothing more than a family member.

He wandered aimlessly for a long time and, without realizing it, found himself by the water’s edge. Looking across, he noticed a figure on the waterside pavilion—a silhouette that seemed faintly familiar.

Qin Ruyan stood by the railing, gazing into the boundless night. Moonlight spilled across the lake, shattering into a field of silver. In such cold weather, she hadn’t wanted to come outside, but tossing and turning in her chambers, unable to sleep and with her mind in disarray, she decided to brave the chill for some fresh air, hoping it would clear her head.

She had just received a letter from home saying her mother had suddenly fallen gravely ill and died an hour earlier.

When she first saw those stark black characters on white paper, she felt she might cry, but though a heavy block pressed on her heart for a long time, no tears would come.

Now, she too was someone with no home. The place where she had lived since childhood had never held much affection for her. Her mother, a woman of the dust, had never been favored and had grown indifferent to warmth and coldness in human relationships. She did not care to interact with others, paid little attention to her daughter, and rarely expressed concern; their bond was so faint it hardly resembled that of mother and daughter. Perhaps, knowing her own lowly origins, she had feared her daughter would be looked down upon, and so, when Qin Ruyan was young, her mother kept her at arm’s length.

As a child, she had disliked her mother, always wondering why other girls’ mothers cherished them so dearly, while her own did nothing when she was bullied by her siblings—never seeking justice for her nor offering a word of comfort.

Later, as she matured, she understood her mother’s hardships. Though she cared for her in her heart, she never showed it outwardly. Afterward, she was often away from home, and her father nearly forgot her existence. No one cared if she came or went. Watching her mother grow older day by day, she realized how difficult her life had been and tried to speak with her more, always checking on her health whenever she visited.

“Why aren’t you in Muchu Palace on such a cold night?” Suddenly, a deep voice sounded behind her, startling Qin Ruyan.

She whirled around. A tall, familiar figure blocked her view—it was Ling Zetian.

The cold moonlight washed over her face, and Ling Zetian was taken aback to see faint tear tracks upon her cheeks.

He remembered the last time he’d seen Qin Ruyan cry—it was three years ago, when they were out on a mission together. He’d been injured, and Qin Ruyan had sat by his bedside all night. When he awoke in the middle of the night, he found her still keeping vigil, eyes wide open. When she saw he was awake, she threw her arms around him and wept as if she were a child, saying she was afraid something would happen to him and begging him not to leave her.

Back then, he had held her and comforted her, promising to marry her one day and never to leave her for the rest of his life.

Youthful love, however, cannot withstand the passage of time.

“Why are you crying?” He rarely saw Qin Ruyan so vulnerable, and at that moment, he was strangely moved.

Hearing his words, Qin Ruyan quickly wiped her face and realized she didn’t know when she had started to cry. Seeing the concern flickering in Ling Zetian’s eyes, she suddenly threw herself into his arms and wept openly like a child.

It had been so long since she had seen such an expression directed at her from Ling Zetian. No matter what she said or did, he always looked at her with those cold, indifferent eyes, holding her at arm’s length without a word. She had thought Ling Zetian would never forgive her, never care for her again.

As she sobbed against his chest, Ling Zetian neither embraced nor pushed her away; he simply let her hold him, standing silently.

All these years, he had known how hard Qin Ruyan’s life had been and pitied her unfortunate fate. Now, whatever she might ask of him, he would give without hesitation—everything except his love, for he simply no longer felt it.

She did not know how long she cried, but eventually her tears subsided from exhaustion. Ling Zetian stood like a statue, letting her cling to him. When she looked up, she saw him looking down at her, his features hidden in shadow, his expression unreadable.

She hugged him tighter, like a child afraid to lose her favorite thing, pressing her face to his chest. But through the thick layers of his clothing, she could not hear his heartbeat, nor feel his warmth.

“My mother… she’s gone.” Qin Ruyan choked out the words between sobs.

Ling Zetian’s expression faltered at her words. He knew her mother—the quiet, solitary woman who never sought conflict with others. After a moment’s thought, he gripped Qin Ruyan’s shoulders and forcibly drew some distance between them. “You should go back now. I’ll send someone to escort you.”

“No,” Qin Ruyan shook her head. “I’ll go in the morning.”

“Why not go now?”

“Tonight, I want to be with you,” Qin Ruyan forced a pale smile. “I’ve been in the palace for almost a month now. When I leave tomorrow morning, I’ll never come back.”

Ling Zetian was momentarily stunned. Feng Qiuji had already left, and he hadn’t expected that now Qin Ruyan, too, would choose to go.

“You don’t love me anymore. What’s the point of me staying?” Her smile faded into a bitter, helpless grimace. “Tomorrow, I’ll take my mother’s body and go somewhere far, far away, never to return. So, will you stay with me tonight?” She had entered the palace for another reason as well: she had discovered that the Empress Dowager was the true culprit behind Qin Rushui’s death and had wanted to avenge her sister. But now, she no longer wished for revenge. All she wanted was to find a place where no one knew her, to hide away and live out her days under a different name.

Hearing she was leaving, Ling Zetian felt a lump rise in his throat. He wanted to say something, but looking at her, could not speak.

He let his arms fall to his sides and looked at Qin Ruyan. “No. There is nothing left between us. If you wish to go, then I will let you.” With that, he turned to leave.

It had been Qin Ruyan’s wish to enter the palace. He hadn’t wanted to agree but owed her a promise. Now, if she wished to leave, he would not stop her or try to persuade her to stay.

“Just one hour, that’s all I ask.” Qin Ruyan clung to his sleeve, her tone plaintive.

“Yan’er, you…” Ling Zetian truly did not want to see her like this, but neither did he wish to see her at all.

“You still love me, don’t you?” Qin Ruyan gripped him, holding something in her hand.

He looked down and saw she was clutching the jade pendant at his waist.

Qin Ruyan turned over the fine blood jade pendant, revealing another small piece of jade attached at the back. He had worn this blood jade since he was a child, only to learn later that it was a gift from his birth mother. The smaller jade piece was something Qin Ruyan had tied to the pendant herself, a token of their love. When she left, he had not thought of it, simply keeping the jade with him all along. Now, she seemed to believe he still had feelings for her.

He considered for a moment, then removed the pendant and detached the small piece of jade, placing it in her hand. Looking at her intently, he said, “Qin Ruyan, I’ve already told you. Don’t overthink it.”

When she saw him return the token, Qin Ruyan’s world seemed to collapse. After losing her mother, Ling Zetian was the only person left in the world to whom she felt close. Now, even he was cutting ties with her.

“I gave it away, so I won’t take it back,” she said, pushing the pendant back into his hand.

“I don’t want it,” Ling Zetian replied, shoving it back at her. Since he had decided never to see her again, he did not wish to keep her things.

In the struggle, the pendant slipped from Ling Zetian’s hand and, with a splash, fell into the water, sinking straight down.

Ling Zetian saw the jade fall but said nothing. He glanced at Qin Ruyan, then turned and walked away.

What was lost, he would never try to recover. It was not in his nature—whether it was Qin Ruyan or the pendant. If it was gone, then it was gone.

A loud splash sounded behind him. Ling Zetian stopped abruptly and turned, only to see that Qin Ruyan’s slender form had vanished, leaving only a great disturbance of water on the lake.

—End of Chapter—

Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m deeply grateful to all of you for reading and supporting. I know the emotional scenes in this story were poorly written, so I’ll strive to better organize the relationships and write a good story in the next book. Thank you all!