After seeing Yuan Qingling back to the Marquis’s Mansion, Yuwen Hao hugged Yuan Qingling before leaving, and softly said, “Thank you, sister.”
Being called “sister” made Yuan Qingling's heart feel soft.
She deliberated for a long time, and felt that she still could not do as Yuwen Hao said.
"Is the Prince in the mansion?" she asked her servant.
"Yes, he's in the study," the servant replied.
"I'm going over to find him," said Yuan Qingling as she tidied her clothes before heading out.
The evening mist was heavy, casting this courtyard in dusk’s colors, making it feel tranquil and mellow. Curls of cooking smoke rose lazily from the kitchen, the scent of worldly life permeating every corner, making one feel the reality yet ephemerality of it all.
Today’s ordeal gave Yuan Qingling a true sense of living in this era, rather than just existing.
Arriving at the study, a maid was just carrying over some food to the door. "I'll take it," Yuan Qingling said softly.
"Yes, my lady," the maid acquiesced with a curtsy before leaving.
Yuan Qingling brought the food in. The room was lit with just two candlesticks, the flickering light both lively yet wan.
He was practicing calligraphy at his desk. On the ground were many discarded papers, each forcefully inked with the character “endure”.
Hearing footsteps, he looked up. In the dancing candlelight, his face appeared and disappeared, the corners of his eyes and lips turned up, making him look solemn yet forlorn.
The scar winding from the corner of his eye to his ear added a ferocious air.
"What are you doing here?" Yuwen Hao put down his brush and asked coldly.
Yuan Qingling set the food down on the Eight Immortals table. Going over, she said, "It's time to eat."
"I'm not eating. Take it away!" Yuwen Hao frowned.
She stood amidst the scattered papers, not knowing what to do with her hands as they hung clasped in front of her. "Let's talk," she said.
"If it's about what happened today, there's nothing to discuss. I've made my decision," he said icily.
Yuan Qingling slowly walked over to stand at the other side of the desk, looking earnestly into his eyes. "Enduring is unnecessary. Perhaps many matters require endurance many times, but even endurance has a bottom line. Once that line is crossed, further endurance will lead to a complete loss of integrity. I don't care what others say; I only care whether good and evil receive their due."
"You don't care? Easy to say, but when slandered, who can remain unaffected?" He spoke from experience. This past year, all kinds of malicious words had pierced his heart.
"I can. I truly don't care, because I care about something more," she said.
"Something you care about more?" Yuwen Hao looked straight at her. "What is that?"
"Conviction!"
"What conviction?" He was surprised. This was not something Yuan Qingling would say.
"The conviction to be human – to not let evil run rampant and wreak havoc in this world. The Marquis harmed many women. He represents evil." Yuan Qingling spoke righteously, but these words were not for Yuwen Hao. They were for him to relay to the Emperor.
"Say something normal," Yuwen Hao frowned.
Yuan Qingling's eyes chilled. "Revenge. He nearly disgraced me and wanted to kill me. If I don't avenge this, how can I swallow this indignation? I cannot tolerate such a despicable person living well in this world."
Yuwen Hao's expression softened slightly. "Even if we do as I proposed, he won't last long. I've already informed Jingyan, who will hint subtly to Father at the right time."
"No, Prince. There's no need for hints. Since the Emperor appointed you Prefect of Jingzhao, he must want you to accomplish great things vigorously. If you don't speak plainly, and only let...Jingyan...hint, the Emperor may feel you're timid and unfit for the task."
Yuwen Hao stared at her. "Who taught you to say these things?"
"My own thoughts and ideas make me say them."
"Impossible. You're not that clever."
"That's an ad hominem attack. I advise the Prince to be virtuous," Yuan Qingling said.
Yuwen Hao reached out a hand to habitually pat her head, but remembering her head injury, he stopped and let his hand fall onto her shoulder instead. "Eat."
Yuan Qingling said, "You have to agree with me first."
"No more nonsense. Eat!" He grabbed her wrist and pulled her over. "Keep me company."
"I've eaten. I've had soup," she said.
"Then attend me while I dine."
"As you command!" Yuan Qingling rolled her eyes.
He ate as if famished, the meal disappearing in the blink of an eye with nary a grain of rice left.
"That hungry? Should I have them make you something more?" She remembered he usually ate very moderately. Such ravenous eating showed his deprivation.
"No need. Attend me in changing clothes. I'm going to the palace to see His Majesty."
Yuan Qingling hopped to it happily. "Yes!"
The two returned to Xiao Yue Pavilion. Yuan Qingling opened the wardrobe to rows of neatly folded clothes, and looking back, asked him, "Which outfit?"
"Official robes!" he said impatiently.
"Oh!" She shut the wardrobe and went to the clothing rack to retrieve the official robes he had changed out of when he returned today. Reaching out, she touched the exquisite embroidery – the symbol of power.
The purple robe cinched at the waist, the gold and jade belt perfectly delineating top and bottom, the proportions perfect.
Topped with the official hat, he seemed to temper his sharp edges, the entire person becoming steady and grounded.
This was Yuan Qingling's first time attending him. Though serving someone was tedious work, today she was happy to do it.
She couldn't help speaking lightly, "The Prince looks so handsome."
"Scram!" He glared at her.
"Yes, will scram shortly," she said ingratiatingly. Couldn't offend the master.
Yuwen Hao's eyes and brows somehow betrayed a hint of a smile as he slanted a glance at Yuan Qingling.
Yuan Qingling's heart thumped loudly. She gazed blankly at him.
"Stupefied?" He didn't have her attend him in changing shoes, doing it himself as he sat down.
Yuan Qingling returned to her senses. "No, just wondering how to fade your scar a little."
"No need. I'm not some woman," said Yuwen Hao as he stood, a good half head taller than Yuan Qingling. She figured she was about 165 cm. Judging by the average head being 22 cm, she estimated him to be around 185 cm, no more than 187 cm.
The height difference was significant. Without high heels here, walking beside him made her feel too short.
Ah, why was she pointlessly estimating heights here? Damn!
Seeing Yuwen Hao off, Yuan Qingling slowly paced back into the room. She had thought about following him into the palace but she was supposed to be terribly frightened and traumatized now, needing rest and recuperation in the manor to appear pitiful.
But she couldn't calm her thoughts, recalling that thrilling moment earlier, as if electric currents had coursed from her toes to the crown of her head then out to her limbs.
This was illogical.
Yuwen Hao was a scumbag, coarse and rude. She couldn't change her opinion just because he occasionally showed kindness, even disregarding past grievances entirely.
Yuan Qingling, you can't be so cheap. Don't freely give your true feelings.
She must be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, the most salient symptom being developing reliance and trust in one's abuser.
This was sickness needing immediate treatment.
The cure was maintaining a positive attitude, not easily giving in to reality. Understanding the abuser's weaknesses to launch preemptive counterattacks, and establishing systems limiting the abuser's evildoing.
After this heroic pep talk, she immediately softened. She didn't want to oppose him anymore. What to do?
