Chapter 30: Beneath the Blossoms and the Moon

Xie Mingyu and Shen Qianmo were anxious about the safety of the Xie family, while Lu Ziqing was eager to pursue the traces of the Wujijiang Sect. The group hurriedly bid farewell to Leng Aoshuang.

As they were about to leave, Shen Qianmo noticed the unusual look Xie Mingyu gave Leng Aoshuang, and her heart stirred. Could it be that this late-blooming youth had finally awakened to matters of the heart? Yet, why had he set his sights on Leng Aoshuang, the icy beauty? She sighed inwardly, recalling Leng Xiangning’s final words to her sister before her death. After her sister’s bitter lesson, would Leng Aoshuang easily trust a man again?

She resolved to help Xie Mingyu. The Xie family, though scholarly, had no one in officialdom and thus no restrictions from court protocols; Xie Mingyu, carefree by nature, disliked constraints, and pairing him with Leng Aoshuang, whose roots lay in the world of wandering heroes, seemed fitting.

Taking advantage of the moment when Leng Aoshuang was escorting them out of the palace, Shen Qianmo found an opportunity for the two to be alone and took her aside. “Miss Leng, I can see you are cold in appearance but warm at heart. I feel a kinship with you, so let’s dispense with formalities. From now on, I’ll call you Aoshuang, and you may call me Qianmo. Is that all right?”

Leng Aoshuang readily agreed. She too felt a fondness for this calm and intelligent woman. A rare smile appeared on her frosty face as she nodded, “Of course.”

Shen Qianmo was momentarily stunned. It was the first time she had seen Leng Aoshuang smile, and she finally understood what it meant for a smile to captivate a city. Xie Mingyu, your taste is excellent! She thought.

She shook off her wandering thoughts, gathered herself, and asked, “Was it you who sent word to us about my cousin’s whereabouts at the Ruyi Inn the other day?”

Leng Aoshuang nodded without hesitation.

“Thank you. And also, when you shielded my cousin from your sister’s blow and were severely injured yourself, the Xie family will always remember your kindness.”

Leng Aoshuang’s expression was a little uneasy. “Qianmo, there’s no need to be so formal. I simply didn’t want my sister to continue down her mistaken path and commit another crime.”

“Regardless, this kindness will never be forgotten by me or the Xie family,” Shen Qianmo solemnly took her hand.

In truth, Shen Qianmo meant that Leng Aoshuang’s selfless act would be repaid by Xie Mingyu with his devotion.

“By the way, last time the palace master mistook my cousin for Tao Zhirui. Do they look alike?” Shen Qianmo asked, pretending it was a casual question.

“No, they are not similar at all. My sister’s obsession led her to make the mistake.” At the mention of Leng Xiangning, Leng Aoshuang’s expression dimmed. The sudden loss of her only kin was a devastating blow, and the way she had swiftly restored order to the Flower Moon Palace was a testament to her strength and resolve.

“I see.” Shen Qianmo didn’t know how to comfort her, and the two fell silent. As they parted, Shen Qianmo held Leng Aoshuang’s hand. “Aoshuang, your sister’s death is connected to the Wujijiang Sect. When you’ve settled matters at the Flower Moon Palace, why not come to Suzhou and join us in confronting them?”

“I intend to do just that. The Wujijiang Sect infiltrated the palace and harmed my sister—this debt will be settled.” At the mention of the sect, Leng Aoshuang’s beautiful face turned as cold as ice, her voice filled with hatred.

Shen Qianmo glanced at Xie Mingyu, seeing a faint trace of joy on his face, and thought, Xie Mingyu, this is all I can do for you for now. The rest is up to fate.

After leaving the Flower Moon Palace, the group pressed on without pause and arrived at the Ruyi Inn late at night. Green Bamboo and Bi An wept with joy upon seeing Shen Qianmo and Xie Mingyu return safely. The night was deep, so everyone decided to stay at the inn and set out at dawn.

Having endured the turmoil of the Flower Moon Palace these past two days, Shen Qianmo was feeling worn out. Yet the more tired her body became, the sharper her mind. Unable to sleep, she put on a cloak and went out to the courtyard to clear her head and review the clues about the Wujijiang Sect.

She found she was not alone—Xie Mingyu was sitting at the stone table, drinking alone under the moon.

“Cousin,” she called softly, sitting across from him. “Are you worried about the Wujijiang Sect?”

Xie Mingyu poured her a cup, his tone tinged with concern. “The Wujijiang Sect is a secret in the Dasheng Dynasty; I’ve only heard bits and pieces. When the Taizu Emperor overthrew the previous dynasty as a prince, his army stormed the capital. The former emperor, Zhao Wen, and his consorts, princes, and princesses all hanged themselves, except for one infant prince, who was saved by palace guards.

About fifty years ago, at the start of the reign of Emperor Mingxiao, a group called the Wujijiang Sect appeared, preaching ‘Punish traitors, restore the nation,’ and ravaged the land. The leader was said to be that surviving prince—the last bloodline of the previous dynasty. The emperor was furious and ordered a crackdown, after which the sect vanished. Now they’ve resurfaced, and the Xie family has been dragged into the mess.”

So it was a rebel organization! No wonder the Minister of Justice, Dong Runian, reacted so strongly upon seeing the Wujijiang tattoo on that dead assassin.

Shen Qianmo pondered, sipping her drink, and frowned in disbelief. “Cousin, you’re drinking wine! I thought you only drank tea.”

“Did you really think so little of me, Mo’er?” Xie Mingyu chuckled at her grimace from the wine, feeling his spirits lift.

“If I underestimate you, it doesn’t matter—so long as Miss Aoshuang doesn’t,” Shen Qianmo teased.

“Oh? You even dare tease your cousin now. Seems you’ve grown bolder after spending time with Prince Xuan.” Xie Mingyu bantered back, enjoying Shen Qianmo’s rare playfulness.

“Who’s talking behind my back?” A low voice sounded from behind. Shen Qianmo twitched her lips—was he playing the part of Cao Cao?

Meng Yuanheng appeared in his wheelchair, his face dark and stern. It was late, and this woman was alone with Xie Mingyu, enjoying their conversation. How could he be pleased?

Xie Mingyu stood and greeted him, “Greetings, Prince Xuan.”

Meng Yuanheng’s gaze was fixed on Shen Qianmo, his handsome face clouded with displeasure, as if silently declaring, “This prince is very unhappy.”

What was wrong with him now? He looked as if someone owed him a fortune.

Shen Qianmo pursed her lips and stood up, saying to Xie Mingyu, “Cousin, we have an early start tomorrow. You should rest.”

Xie Mingyu nodded, smiled meaningfully at her, and departed.

Meng Yuanheng continued to gaze at Shen Qianmo, his expression shifting from gloom to grievance. Shen Qianmo noticed the red veins in his eyes, evidence of exhaustion, and felt a pang of sympathy. “Since you’re tired, you should rest. I’ll take you back to your room.”

He had dragged his poison-weakened legs through so much these past days, saving her time and again. It was only right she took care of him now.

Hearing the concern in her voice, Meng Yuanheng’s face softened. He had long realized this woman responded better to gentleness than force. Whenever he acted pitiful, she rarely refused.

He looked up, gazing at her with hopeful eyes. “But I want to spend more time with you, Mo’er. Can you stay with me a while longer?”

Shen Qianmo found herself increasingly powerless against such a gaze, inwardly cursing herself, but replied, “Fine, but not for too long. Mr. Situ said you need plenty of rest.”

She pushed his wheelchair next to the stone bench and sat beside him. They sat together, side by side.

The moon was bright and the stars sparse, the night as gentle as water. Meng Yuanheng watched the serene woman beside him and couldn’t resist tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. As expected, a blush rose on her delicate face, and he smiled, satisfied.

This was surely what “under the moon and before the flowers” meant—a silent understanding between hearts. When love is true, words are unnecessary; even quiet companionship is enchanting.

And the one lurking in the shadows, daring to covet his woman—Meng Yuanheng’s eyes flashed coldly. He would give him no chance.

Shen Qianmo felt she must be truly exhausted, for Meng Yuanheng’s affectionate gesture made her heart race and her face flush. When he produced a jade pendant and placed it around her neck, she finally snapped back to herself.

“What is this?” Shen Qianmo examined the jade that had appeared on her chest, puzzled.

It was a translucent blood-red jade, exquisitely crafted and smooth to the touch—clearly precious.

Meng Yuanheng coughed lightly, seeming a bit awkward. “Wear it. Don’t take it off.”

“Why are you giving me something for no reason? And this jade seems very valuable.” Shen Qianmo asked.

“This prince gives as he pleases; there’s no need for reasons.” When Shen Qianmo tried to remove and return it, his face darkened. “I never take back what I’ve given. If you don’t like it, throw it away.”

Shen Qianmo was dumbfounded. Even gifting was so awkward—Meng Yuanheng, you really are something. Well, since you’re generous, I’ll accept it.

In the dim night, Feng Ze watched from the shadows on the second floor as the two sat together in quiet conversation. His hands clenched, and a torrent of pain, regret, and unwillingness surged in his heart. He recalled their first meeting in the alley, remembered the day he escorted her home and the smile she gave him, and how she disguised herself as Moxin to clear his name. How foolish he’d been—not realizing Moxin was her all along. With a bitter smile, he withdrew into the darkness.