Chapter 55

Chapter 55

“Quan Quan…”

He pulled her into an embrace.

But Du Lingjing raised a hand, resisting, pressing against his chest.

Her fists clenched tightly, just like that, pressed against his chest.

Her strength was negligible to Lu Shenru, yet that faint force, pressing into his chest, felt like twin daggers piercing his heart.

His heart ached with each beat, yet he only held her tighter, pulling her into his embrace.

She resisted even more, but with her strength, she couldn’t possibly overpower him. Still, she seemed to exert every ounce of effort, refusing to yield.

If this went on, she would get hurt.

Lu Shenru’s heart twisted in pain, and just as he was about to release her, she unexpectedly relaxed her resistance before he could.

He paused, thinking she had finally stopped fighting him—only to see her close her eyes.

She no longer struggled, allowing him to hold her, but her eyes remained shut. Her expression was cold, not even sparing him a glance.

Bitterness like coptis root spread through Lu Shenru’s mouth, seeping between his teeth and tongue.

“Quan Quan,” he called her.

Only the slight tremble of her delicate eyelashes.

Outside, snow fell in soft whispers, and the man’s bitterness became unbearable. He reached out, brushing his thumb gently against the fine hair at her temple, then leaned down, pressing a light kiss to her cheek.

But she turned her head away, icy and indifferent.

This silent rejection, more than her feeble resistance, pierced his heart inch by inch.

With no other choice, he could only lay her back down on the inner side of the bed.

Yet the moment he set her down, she silently turned away, her back to him.

The spring snowfall grew heavier, howling on the wind, almost bending the roof beams under its weight.

The man’s chest tightened unbearably. He glanced back at his wife, who refused to acknowledge him, wondering how he would endure this endless, dark night.

...

Just as the court assembly ended, someone approached Grand Secretary Dou.

The Grand Secretary had lost weight after battling a winter chill earlier in the year, his long beard now streaked with gray. Hearing the whisper beside him, he listened as the man said,

“Grand Secretary, did you notice? Marquis Lu seemed out of sorts today. The Emperor asked him three times, and he didn’t answer immediately.”

As they spoke in hushed tones, Grand Secretary Dou caught sight of the young Marquis of Yongding—his longtime rival—striding out of the hall with a cold, forbidding expression, daring anyone to approach.

The speaker immediately fell silent, not wanting to provoke him needlessly.

But Grand Secretary Dou was unafraid. Instead, he paused, waiting for the marquis.

“A man your age, Marquis, it’s natural to be troubled by matters of the heart. But don’t torment yourself. If she stays, she stays. If not, let her go.”

As he spoke, he noticed the Marquis’s expression darkening further. Stroking his beard, the Grand Secretary continued amiably,

“In my youth, I too had my share of heartache. Romantic or otherwise, there are always lingering attachments. But once severed, it’s all the more liberating.”

He smiled knowingly at the young nobleman.

He had heard the rumors—how the Marquis and his wife of half a year had walked through the snowstorm in the city streets yesterday, and how, before that, his wife had met someone at the Pillow Moon Pavilion.

Seeing the Marquis’s grim expression, he added,

“That’s how life is. You must let go to gain.”

At these words, Lu Shenru actually gave a cold laugh.

He glanced at the old man, who remained undaunted even as the Shao family had fallen silent.

“Save your concern, Grand Secretary. I neither let go nor lose. You’d do better to worry about Prince Yong. If you keep cozying up to the Shao family, the Emperor will be displeased.”

With that, he wasted no more words on the old man and strode away, flicking his sleeves dismissively.

Unfazed, Grand Secretary Dou instead thought of the Du family—of the Du residence in Chengqing Lane. He stood silently before the grand hall, letting his gaze linger in that direction...

As soon as Lu Shenru left the palace gates, he asked Chong Ping,

“How did my wife fare today?”

Chong Ping glanced at him and replied quietly,

“My lady was at home, no different from usual. Only… she was quieter. She spent the morning in the west chamber, mending books, hardly speaking.”

His heart grew heavier, his steps quickening. Once in the saddle, he rode straight home.

Upon arriving, he strode directly into the main courtyard, glancing toward the west chamber. Sure enough, she was still there, mending books.

The court session had dragged on, and now the sun hung high in the sky—yet she was still bent over her work.

Lu Shenru stepped inside, perhaps too loudly, and her gaze lifted to meet his.

He moved closer, noticing several unfamiliar books—likely military texts—on her desk.

Before he could get a proper look, she swiftly covered them with a stack of other books and stowed them away into a chest below.

Once the books were stored, she returned to her work.

But in that brief moment when she had looked up, he’d seen the redness in her eyes.

Last night, she had turned away, giving him the cold shoulder—yet her breathing had never steadied into sleep. Only near dawn had she finally drifted off.

Now, with eyes that sore, how could she keep working at the desk?

He stepped forward, covering her hand with his.

“You’re straining your eyes. You shouldn’t keep reading like this.”

But at his words, she just pulled her hand away and moved to a nearby bookshelf.

Lu Shenru’s chest constricted painfully. He followed her, only for her to turn away again.

With no other choice, he simply scooped her up into his arms and carried her straight to the daybed by the window.

She didn’t want to, yet he pressed her against the window, his nose brushing against hers.

“Don’t be like this, Quan Quan… Don’t ignore me, don’t refuse to speak to me.”

He whispered pleadingly, nuzzling her nose gently before his lips grazed the corner of her mouth.

He hesitantly leaned in for a soft kiss, but Du Lingjing glared up at him and immediately raised her hands to push him away. Yet he refused to relent, his breath quickening slightly as he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her with soft, barely-there kisses.

Unlike his usual domineering manner, he now kissed her with light, teasing kisses, his thumb carefully caressing her cheek.

It was as if he sought to soften her with these gentle kisses—he wanted to make peace.

Du Lingjing’s heart ached, yet under his tender coaxing, she unwillingly relented.

She stopped pushing him away, no longer resisting. Sensing this, he deepened his kisses slightly, his eyes crinkling with warmth as he drew her closer into his embrace.

But Du Lingjing lifted her gaze, slowly holding his gaze.

If only he could confess all his secrets and lies to her, she might forgive him…

Outside the window, the thick snow from last night lingered, slowly melting under the sunlight.

She watched him.

Her eyes glistening met his, and in that instant, Lu Shenru understood her silent question.

Yet the man hesitated, his lips thinned.

The room was dead silent.

Du Lingjing understood his answer.

She smiled faintly.

Clouds covered the sun, and the melting snow outside no longer turned to spring water—instead, it turned to ice in the cold wind.

He could hold her, kiss her, soothe her—but the truth she wanted from him, he would never reveal.

…

A chilly rain came down in the afternoon, covering the unmelted snow from the morning and freezing it into ice.

Chong Ping found the marquis in his study at Yuanxiu Pavilion, his face dark and his eyes closed in silence.

His silence made the air stifling over the entire pavilion. No one said a word, and Chong Ping brought tea himself into the study.

The man did not look at him, but Chong Ping spoke anyway.

“My lord, regarding those past matters… perhaps this subordinate could explain them to Madam on your behalf—”

Before he could finish, the marquis snapped.

“Not a word.”

“But Madam, she—”

The man shook his head. The study was heavy with tension, as if the lingering frost had seeped into its walls.

Lu Shenru’s gaze drifted beyond the window, gazing blankly.

“She and I only met three years ago when I passed through Qingzhou. There is nothing earlier than that.”

He called to Chong Ping.

“You are not to speak of it either.”

If the marquis would not say it, neither could he.

Chong Ping sighed silently but had no choice but to comply.

“Yes.”

…

That evening, when Lu Shenru returned to their chambers, he found his wife already in bed. Yet from her breathing, she was clearly awake.

“Why wasn’t the floor heating lit? It’s still cold.”

He asked, but the bed curtains remained silent.

The man exhaled softly, undressed, and got into bed.

Once inside, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. Du Lingjing shifted slightly, but he refused to let go.

His warm hand and strong arms held her tightly.

He left her no room to resist, just muttered,

“Sleep.”

…

For several days after, he held her like this every night, saying nothing more.

Just as he had once made her marry him with an imperial decree—without her say—now, the answers she sought, she would never hear from his lips.

Du Lingjing smiled faintly.

She read silently, edited manuscripts, compiled them into collections, and had Shopkeeper Zhao take them for printing and distribution.

On the surface, she seemed fine. In contrast, Lu Shenru came home more often, only then relaxing when he saw her in their chambers or the courtyard.

Yet then, there was a mutiny in Kaiping Garrison—Tatars had infiltrated the ranks and caused unrest. Upon hearing the news, he immediately sent Chong Ping to investigate.

The incident was not too serious; a few officers were injured, but it was swiftly suppressed. However, the emperor became uneasy and called him to court, ordering him to personally oversee the matter.

“The Tatars have gotten bolder. Just days ago, they wounded Count Zhongqing’s heir in Ningxia. You should handle this yourself.”

Rongchang’s Earl had been sent to Xi’an to oversee matters due to his two troublemaking sons, while Wei Cong, Count Zhongqing’s heir, had been sent to Ningxia. Before Wei Cong could get to know the Ningxia troops, the Tatars attacked without warning. Though he reacted swiftly and drove them back beyond the borders, he was wounded in the process.

His injuries were not light. As both the heir to Count Zhongqing and the son-in-law of Prince Yu—husband to Princess Nianjia—the emperor looked out for him, ordering him back to the capital to recuperate.

Before Wei Cong could reach the capital, Kaiping Garrison was hit with more trouble.

The emperor, uneasy, told Lu Shenru to go himself.

That night, the man returned home to find his wife already in bed.

He touched her shoulder, hoping to talk, but she played asleep, ignoring him.

He sighed, but in the middle of the night, she suddenly woke up.

Still dazed from sleep, he immediately got up and helped her into a robe.

"Thirsty? Want some tea?"

She paused briefly before coming to her senses and tried to get up on her own, but he steadied her shoulder.

"Stay in bed. I'll fetch you a cup of warm tea."

The night wind made the door creak as he spoke, already pouring her a cup of warm tea.

After she drank, he took the cup back.

He left the small lamp burning, hesitating before saying,

"I’ll be returning to the capital in a couple of days. Should I bring back some potted plants?"

She looked at him, and Lu Shenru sighed softly, gazing at his wife.

"Wait for me at home."

Only after speaking did he turn to put out the lamp, failing to notice Du Lingjing watching him intently from behind before pursing her lips and averting her gaze.

The next day, before dawn, the marquis left the capital on horseback, trampling over the remnants of snow.

Whatever orders he had given, Du Lingjing noticed Chong'an watching her furtively.

She read for a time, as was her habit, and when the hour grew late, she suddenly instructed Qiu Lin,

"It’s been a while since I’ve gone out. Get the carriage ready—I’d like to take a ride."

Chong'an was still watching her covertly, but she pretended not to notice and added,

"Fetch Guard An and inform him as well."

……

Things escalated quicker than anticipated.

Just as Lu Shenru galloped into Kaiping Guard, a breathless messenger came from the capital’s marquis residence.

"My lord, the lady has left! No one knows where she went!"

The news hit Lu Shenru like lightning. Even though he had anticipated it, hearing it confirmed sent a numbing shock through his heart.

She really left. All their shared intimacy since their marriage counted for nothing—she truly intended to leave.

Kaiping Guard’s officers rode forth to meet him.

"Why has the marquis come personally? The rebellion’s already been put down, only minor matters remain. There was no need for you to—"

Before they finished speaking, the marquis abruptly issued a barrage of orders.

He gave over a dozen commands in rapid succession, leaving the officers stunned—they’d never heard him issue so many orders at once. Before they could react, the marquis suddenly spun his horse around and galloped back the way he came.

"My lord?!" The officers looked at each other in confusion.

……

Chong'an was relieved when the marquis returned. His elder brother followed behind, already aware that he had failed to stop the lady. The look in his brother’s eyes was sharp enough to flay him alive.

But the marquis had no time to dwell on that. He ordered a full account of the situation and soon found the clue.

"Investigate every carriage from the Dou family. Check every one that left the capital after the lady departed!"

His voice turned to ice, and none dared defy him.

They had a trail within the hour!

Meanwhile, Du Lingjing woke in the middle of the night.

Their stopover was remote, yet inexplicably, she thought she heard the sound of galloping hooves outside the courtyard.

Holding her breath, she listened carefully—there was nothing. But the moment she closed her eyes, the familiar rhythm of those hooves pounded against her heart.

The imagined sound pressed on her heart, suffocating and painful. She abandoned sleep and called for Qiu Lin and Ruan Gong to pack their belongings and continue their journey.

Before leaving the courtyard, she took something from her sleeve.

An ornate key shaped like a tiny pavilion still carried her warmth and scent. She polished it with a handkerchief, erasing her traces, and placed it on the table at the center of the room.

The night wind moaned outside, whipping through the open doorway.

She’d never wanted to come to the capital at all. If he saw this, would he understand her meaning?

Let her return to Qingzhou.

A tear rolled down her cheek. Du Lingjing brushed it away, let her gaze linger on the key, and melted into the night...

By the time Lu Shenru arrived, the room’s lamp had died.

The key still held a whisper of her warmth, but the wind stole the last warmth from his fingers.

The man closed his eyes.

"My lord, shall we continue the pursuit?"

The lady truly intended to leave.

But his voice was rough as he uttered a single word.

"After her!"

……

But she was cunning—not only did she move ahead of time, but she also changed course at random.

Lu Shenru searched three or four places, finding only false trails, without a sign of her.

His chest tightened as if under a boulder, yet hollow with dread.

He couldn’t accept she’d disappear entirely, yet after several searches, she remained elusive.

For a heartbeat, panic flickered in him.

The weight in his chest became unbearable. He should’ve stayed in the capital—or better yet, taken her with him, never letting her out of his sight...

Every report echoed the same: nothing.

The man's lips were tightly pressed, and he coldly whipped his horse forward.

Yet just as the road ahead was blocked by a town gathering, he suddenly spotted a figure in the crowd.

Lu Shenru's eyes lit up suddenly. He dismounted and strode forward.

By the time he reached behind her, she was jostled by the crowd, and he caught her by the shoulder.

“Thank you.”

But the next moment, she turned her head—her eyes widening in shock when she saw him.

...

“May I ask, Marquis Lu, what exactly is it that you desire?”

“All I desire is you, my wife.”

...

In the carriage back to the capital.

The man no longer rode his horse but sat inside with his wife, clutching her hand.

Du Lingjing glanced at him, and he met her gaze, his gaze dark and inscrutable.

His grip was so firm it was nearly painful. When she tried to pull away, he refused to let go.

Before, she thought she couldn’t discern his thoughts—now, she simply couldn’t understand him at all.

“Marquis, must you really trap me in the capital?”

The man’s voice was gentle, yet his answer was firm. “Yes.”

Du Lingjing turned her head to look out the carriage window.

The wind rushing toward the capital rustled through bamboo.

The familiar fragrance of bamboo leaves drifted into the carriage, and she couldn’t help but gaze a little longer.

But the man beside her suddenly spoke. “Change the route. Leave this place.”

Before Du Lingjing could react, the carriage swiftly altered its path, diverting far from the bamboo grove.

She was stunned. Lu Shenru glanced at her from the corner of his eye but remained silent.

The affection she'd ever shown him had never amounted to even a fifth of what she had given her former fiancés, Jiang Zhuxiu or Jiang Sanlang—now, there was none at all.

This time, she was even more resolved to leave him.

Yet she and he were wedded partners, bound by marriage.

...

Bound by imperial duties, he couldn’t stay overnight at the marquisate. After escorting her back, he left—though not without casting a few lingering glances at her before departing.

Du Lingjing was exhausted.

Staring at the main courtyard of the marquisate, where she had just left and now returned, she sat before the dressing table by the plantain-leaf window, dazed for a long moment.

Qiu Lin, worried she might do something rash, stayed by her side without leaving for a moment.

She insisted she was fine—this was the marquisate, a place she had lived for months. It wasn’t a prison.

He naturally couldn’t return that night.

But Du Lingjing sat by the window, wrestling with her thoughts all night. She didn’t know what he truly wanted.

If he wouldn’t let her return to Qingzhou, she could at least go back to Chengqing Lane.

If her father were here, he would surely take her home.

Perhaps they both needed time apart to cool their tempers.

That night, she sorted out her feelings again and again. Before dawn the next day, she had Qiu Lin and the others gather their things, preparing to return to Chengqing Lane.

But the moment she reached the marquisate’s front gate, the doors were abruptly shut tight by guards.

Chong’an hurried forward. Du Lingjing asked, “What is the meaning of this?”

Chong’an bowed his head with deference. “My lady, you may not leave.”

Du Lingjing said nothing. “I’m not leaving the capital—I just want to return to Chengqing Lane.”

Yet even after her explanation, Chong’an shook his head.

“By the marquis’s order, from today onward, your maids may come and go only under the escort of the marquisate’s guards. And you…”

Chong’an looked at her, and Du Lingjing’s heart lurched.

A cold wind howled at the gate as she heard Chong’an continue.

“And you, my lady, may not take a single step beyond the marquisate without the marquis’s permission.”

The icy wind carried his command, lashing it repeatedly into her ears.

Du Lingjing stood stunned.

He wasn’t even in the capital.

Yet in that instant, the vast marquisate transformed into a looming, ice-cold prison—impenetrable and inescapable.

He had imprisoned her within this gilded cage—the so-called Marquisate of Yongding.

Without his express permission, she could not set foot outside its walls.