Chapter 66: A Life as a Curse

When he still hadn’t gathered the courage to tell Mo’er about this matter that filled him with utter shame, it was instead revealed to her by an outsider in such a manner. This made Meng Yuanheng lose all reason in an instant. His grip around Lou Xinyue’s neck tightened, and if not for the lingering rationality owed to Lou Chen’s memory, he would have snapped her slender neck right there.

Lou Xinyue felt the murderous intent radiating from him and gave a mournful, bitter smile. She finally understood—this man held not even a sliver of affection for her.

Grief and anger surged within her; her expression twisted with despair as she laughed coldly, “What’s this? So your beloved doesn’t know your true parentage? You’re so tense—are you afraid she’ll despise you once she finds out? No wonder, with such disgraceful origins! Even I am ashamed to speak of it, let alone you—ha…”

Suddenly, Lou Xinyue turned her tear-streaked face toward Shen Qianmo, laughing madly, “Miss Shen, you don’t know, do you? Meng Yuanheng is in fact the illegitimate child born years ago to the late Emperor and the former Princess Xuan. His very existence is a monumental disgrace to the House of Prince Xuan! Ha ha ha…”

What! Shen Qianmo truly could not remain calm now. The late Emperor and the former Princess Xuan, an affair? This… this… what a melodramatic twist!

So was this why the Emperor had summoned him to the capital so urgently—because of a sudden illness, fearing he might not survive, and so desperate to reveal Meng Yuanheng’s true parentage before the end?

Hearing Lou Xinyue’s words, Meng Yuanheng could no longer restrain his rage. He struck her with his palm, then, overwhelmed by fury, blood rose to his throat and he spat it out.

Lou Xinyue’s delicate body was flung several meters away, crashing heavily to the ground. Coughing up blood, she struggled to speak, “Meng Yuanheng, you can’t kill me. Your life was saved by my brother. You promised him on his deathbed to protect me for life—you cannot go back on your word.”

A crisp, resounding slap echoed. Five red marks immediately bloomed on Lou Xinyue’s fair face.

“That was for the insults you just hurled at Ah Heng,” Shen Qianmo stood tall before Lou Xinyue, gazing down coldly. “And to wake you up a bit—stop being so delusional.”

Clutching her stinging cheek, Lou Xinyue seethed, “You wretched woman, how dare you strike me!”

Shen Qianmo’s expression barely changed, her tone still cold. “I never made any promises to your brother. Ah Heng can’t kill you, but I certainly can.”

Lou Xinyue forced herself upright, eyes burning with hatred. “And what right do you have to kill me? How much would you sacrifice for Brother Meng? Do you love him like I do?”

“In love, both hearts must be willing,” Shen Qianmo replied, calm yet resolute. “All those things you said you’d do for Ah Heng—I may not match you in those. But there is one thing I can do that you never could.” Her tone softened, but every word landed with weight. “I can make Ah Heng fall in love with me. Can you?”

With those words, Shen Qianmo turned away from Lou Xinyue, walking to Meng Yuanheng’s side, who was barely holding himself upright in silence. She gently wiped the blood from his lips, put her arms around his waist, and whispered, “Ah Heng.”

Meng Yuanheng stood there as if all strength had deserted him. When Shen Qianmo embraced him, his entire body went rigid, trembling ever so slightly.

He didn’t know how to face her. The humiliation of his birth, revealed to Shen Qianmo so bluntly by Lou Xinyue, had left him utterly unprepared and mortified.

“Ah Heng.” Shen Qianmo raised her hand to his gaunt, well-defined face. Meng Yuanheng shrank back, turning away, unable to meet her eyes.

“Ah Heng, look at me.” She cupped his face, gently but firmly turning him towards her. “No matter your birth, no matter your status, you are you. I will be by your side, always.”

Hearing Shen Qianmo’s soft yet unwavering words, some light slowly returned to Meng Yuanheng’s lifeless eyes. At last, he raised his hand to embrace Shen Qianmo’s petite frame. He choked out her name, “Mo’er,” then fell silent for a long time.

Seeing this, Lou Xinyue’s face twisted in despair and sorrow. Meng Yuanheng truly was different with this woman—only she could calm him, restore his reason, and help him regain his composure.

She recalled, back when she lived at Prince Xuan’s manor, finding Meng Yuanheng once sitting alone in the courtyard, sunk in despondence. She’d tried to approach him, to comfort him with an embrace, but the moment her hand brushed his sleeve, he flung her away with a cold gust of force. She remembered his icy rebuke: “Miss Lou, please have some self-respect.”

She remembered another night, when Meng Yuanheng was suffering a cold poison, writhing in pain. In her panic, she’d climbed onto his bed, disrobed, and tried to warm him with her body—only to be struck down with a palm and banished to the old manor that very night, forbidden ever to return.

Why, then, could Shen Qianmo so easily melt his defenses and open his heart? The more Lou Xinyue thought on it, the more bitter and desolate she became. All these years, she’d abandoned her pride, clinging to life for a shred of hope.

Hope that one day, Meng Yuanheng would see her devotion, accept her love, and they could be together.

But now, even that final hope was shattered. What reason did she have left to live?

Yet even in death, she would not let them rest easy. Clutching the Linglong Blood Jade in her hand, a look of final resolve flashed across Lou Xinyue’s face.

“Give me back the Linglong Blood Jade,” Shen Qianmo demanded, voice even but tinged with urgency. Seeing how much Lou Xinyue cherished the jade, it was clear it held special meaning. This rare Blood Jade could ward off a hundred poisons—how could she let Lou Xinyue take it? More importantly, it was Meng Yuanheng’s first gift to her; she must keep it safe.

Lou Xinyue’s beautiful features twisted with a vicious smile. “This Linglong Blood Jade is the token of every Princess Xuan for generations. There’s an unwritten rule in Prince Xuan’s house—only the one who holds this jade can become Princess Xuan. So tell me, do you think I’ll ever return it to you?”

There was such a rule? Shen Qianmo looked to Meng Yuanheng for confirmation. He simply held her close, his gaze devoid of emotion as he fixed on Lou Xinyue. “I have never cared for rules,” he said coldly. “With or without the jade, Mo’er will be my Princess Xuan.”

If not for Lou Chen’s sacrifice, this woman would never have lived to this day.

Lou Xinyue threw her head back in hysterical laughter, tears streaming down her face. Her gaze at them was filled with malice and resolve. “Fine! In that case, you will never have the Linglong Blood Jade. I, Lou Xinyue, here and now, curse you both with my life: Meng Yuanheng, Shen Qianmo, may you never be together in this life or the next, for all eternity!”

With that, Lou Xinyue spun around and hurled herself over the cliff behind her.

Shen Qianmo gasped and rushed forward, only to see Lou Xinyue’s white figure, like a kite with a broken string, plunging swiftly into the abyss, vanishing from sight.

Love—how many are blind to its ways? Lou Xinyue’s devotion was one-sided to the end, and in the end, she chose to end her life this way, unable to let go even in death.

Shen Qianmo looked at Meng Yuanheng standing nearby. His face showed not a flicker of emotion, only the faintest trace of revulsion. She found herself pitying Lou Xinyue—was it worth all this for a man who never loved her?

Yet Meng Yuanheng, even in a wheelchair, attracted such entanglements. If his legs were ever healed, who knew how many more admirers he would draw?

Ah, just the thought gave her a headache.

It wasn’t that she feared the rivalries of women—she simply thought it a waste of precious life to spend time on such meaningless conflicts.

Meng Yuanheng, seeing her clouded expression, felt a twinge of anxiety. He pulled her into his arms and led her away from the cliff edge.

That woman, at least, had the sense to end it herself. Otherwise, even for Lou Chen’s sake, if she threatened Mo’er’s safety, he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t have killed her himself.

“Ah Heng, the Linglong Blood Jade is gone,” Shen Qianmo murmured in his arms, recalling Lou Xinyue’s final words and feeling a knot in her heart.

Never together in this life or the next, for all eternity—Lou Xinyue’s curse, spoken with her dying breath as she clutched the Linglong Blood Jade, was filled with tears and hatred. Such an obsession, such deep-seated malice, such a poisonous curse.

Though Shen Qianmo didn’t believe in curses, this one felt especially vicious. The memory of Lou Xinyue’s twisted face as she uttered it sent a chill down her spine.

“It doesn’t matter. Mo’er, as long as you’re safe,” Meng Yuanheng replied, though the echo of Lou Xinyue’s curse lingered in his mind. He held Shen Qianmo even tighter, as if by doing so, nothing could ever part them.

He had never believed in gods or spirits, nor in curses, but if anyone dared harm his Mo’er, he would cut down man or god alike.

As dusk approached, the last golden rays of the sun bathed the mountain slope in warmth. By the peach grove, the two remained quietly entwined, neither speaking for a long while.

Shen Qianmo sensed Meng Yuanheng’s body was tense, as if he were struggling with his own weight. She knew that after such a long journey, his old ailment must be flaring up again. She led him under a large tree, where they sat together on the ground, leaning against the trunk.

Meng Yuanheng turned slightly, holding her in his arms. He hesitated, as if wanting to explain something, but the words would not come.

Shen Qianmo understood his difficulty. His birth had suddenly become a shameful affair, entangled with the romantic entanglements of the previous generation. He must have been deeply troubled these days. She recalled his strange behavior at the Hall of Blessings and the Emperor’s particular leniency toward him—so this was the truth behind it all.

This man seemed to carry more and more burdens with each passing day. She gently patted his back in silent comfort, feeling both helpless and heartbroken for him.

In her soothing embrace, Meng Yuanheng gradually regained his composure. In a low voice, he began to recount the secret of his birth to Shen Qianmo.

It was a royal secret that stretched back more than twenty years.