Chapter 56

Chapter 56

"...Without the Marquis's permission, the Lady is not to take a single step outside the Marquis's estate."

Dawn had yet to break, the lingering night still shrouding the heavens in darkness, seamlessly merging with the towering walls of the vast Marquis of Yongding's estate.

The night descended, the courtyard walls stretched upward.

Du Lingjing looked up, as if seeing a vast black cage that had trapped her within.

She slowly turned, surveying the boundless depths of the estate. Qiu Lin hurried forward in distress, "Miss..."

What was to be done?

Du Lingjing shook her head gently.

Perhaps the moment she had accepted the decree he sought, donned the wedding gown he had made for her, and stepped into this residence, it was already destined that she could never leave again.

He could be absent from the estate, absent from the capital, even a thousand *li* away—yet as long as he refused to let her go, she could not step beyond its walls.

The man felt inexplicably distant, so much so that even his face blurred in her memory, obscured by mist. Only his ink-black, abyss-like eyes beneath knit brows remained, gazing steadily at her.

But he had not been like this before.

Though they had been married for less than half a year, there had been moments—moonlit banquets, evening rides, boating on the lake. He had accompanied her in paying respects to Sanlang, stepping forward to offer three sticks of incense. He had spoken to her of his longing to reside in Jiangnan, perhaps a wish shared by all northerners. She had gently reminded him that Jiangnan lives most vividly in poetry, that he had already seen it in verse...

Yet now, he had imprisoned her. She could not resist. She could only submit to his control over every aspect of her life.

Du Lingjing swayed slightly, her steps unsteady.

Which was his true self?

Was this Marquis Lu now truly Lu Shenru, Marquis of Yongding?

"Miss?!" Qiu Lin called to her again.

If her father were alive, if her family were whole, if the Du house had not fallen into decline—would the Marquis have dared treat her this way?

How could anyone lock away their own wife?

Qiu Lin wept angrily, but her mistress merely turned away, walking back in silence.

...

The Marquis had been dispatched by imperial decree to Kaiping Garrison to quell a mutiny and had not yet returned.

Yet the following day, he sent flowers.

Du Lingjing sat staring blankly by the window. The plantain outside had frozen to death in the spring snow. The gardener had removed it and now stood just beyond the window to report.

"Madam, the Marquis has sent a carriage-load of flowers. Which do you prefer? Where shall they be placed?"

At this, Du Lingjing faintly recalled his words the night before he left home days earlier:

"In a couple of days, when I return to the capital, I’ll bring back some flowers for the estate. Would that please you?"

The gardener selected several choice blooming specimens and had the maidservants carry them into her chambers for her to see.

Such precious flowers—last year, his uncle had purchased twenty-eight pots at once to arrange the "marriage" of his second sister. But for Marquis Lu, sending an entire carriage-load of flowers was as easy as giving an order.

Though the weather had yet to warm, these flowers were already bursting into bloom, as if spring had arrived early.

At his command, even flowers could be forced to blossom ahead of time.

Du Lingjing did not choose a single pot. She refused to offer any opinion on the flowers he had sent.

The gardener hesitated. "Then this lowly one will arrange them as I see fit, filling the main courtyard with the flowers the Marquis has sent for you. Will that suffice?"

But by the window, Du Lingjing spoke softly.

"I don’t want his flowers."

She said, "Not a single pot. Take them all away."

Her words traveled from the window to the courtyard, and the courtyard fell silent, even the birds ceasing their songs.

Yet the gardener did not leave. Instead, he replied awkwardly.

The Marquis had foreseen that the Madam might refuse. But he had left instructions.

"...These flowers were promised to you by the Marquis. They shall remain in your courtyard."

Qiu Lin and Ai Ye both gasped beside her—

What the Marquis bestowed, the Lady could not refuse.

Du Lingjing paused, then suddenly gave a bitter laugh.

She pushed open the window. The chill spring wind, heavy with pollen from the courtyard, rushed at her—striking her face, her neck, even creeping beneath her collar, as if gripping her shoulders.

Truly, he was a lord of boundless power, a chief minister who gave and took at his pleasure within his domain.

All of Yongding Manor was his—and so was she.

What he wanted, he would have.

Qiu Lin and Ai Ye dared not speak, watching as their lady sat silently by the window.

*

...

The northern frontier, Kaiping Garrison.

Marquis Lu had not yet finished settling all affairs. Though the rebellion had been suppressed, new generals appointed, and Tatar spies captured, little remained unfinished.

He had not returned to the capital, yet news from his home there continued to reach him steadily, as per his orders.

Now, his subordinates reported about the flowers.

"The Madam did not wish to display the flowers, but as you commanded, they have been placed in the courtyard, the chambers, and by the window where the Madam likes to read."

The messenger finished speaking and glanced up to see the Marquis inquire softly,

"What did she say?"

The servant shook his head. "The Madam said nothing."

Hearing this, the Marquis closed his eyes.

For a long while, he did not speak. At length, he said simply, "Understood."

The messenger left, and Chong Ping sighed silently as he topped off his tea before excusing himself as well.

The letters from the court and the military remained untouched. He rested his head in his hand, but the image of her leaving the marquis' estate stubbornly burned in his mind.

She had departed under the guise of the Dou family's carriage, without a backward glance.

She had anticipated he would find where she’d stayed—not only did she leave beforehand, but she also left behind the key to the Guilin Tower.

That key had been part of his wedding gift to her.

She no longer wanted it.

The man closed his eyes, his chest clenching painfully at the memory of that day.

Back then, he had seized her wrist.

"The wind is too strong. You’re not strong enough for this—don't go that way."

She didn’t turn around. "I don’t find the wind on this path too strong. As long as I’m not walking with the Marquis, this wind means nothing."

Only then did she glance at him. "If the Marquis would allow me to leave alone, I would be eternally grateful."

Eternally grateful...

"Then will you return?"

"Since I’m leaving, naturally, I won’t."

"But what if... you already carry our child?"

He held her gaze.

She gave him only four words. "Not a chance."

In his quarters at Kaiping Guard, Lu Shenru remained silent, eyes shut.

She was so certain—was it because of the birth control herbs?

Had she really never once thought of having a child with him...?

The northern winds rattled the windowpanes.

The man laughed.

She swore she trusted him, to never doubt him again, yet in the next moment, she took Jiang Fengchuan’s side.

If it had been Jiang Zhuxiu who lied to her instead, could she have cut Jiang Zhuxiu off just as coldly, never to see him again?

Silence answered him.

The generals at Kaiping Guard had been puzzled by the Marquis’ intentions these past few days.

The rebellion was all but settled, yet the Marquis neither planned next steps nor left.

From the number of messengers arriving daily from the capital, these generals saw how swamped the Marquis was.

But why didn’t he leave?

Since the Marquis wouldn’t leave, who’d dare to tell him to go?

...

The next day, Chong Ping watched from afar as the messenger sent by Chong'an arrived at the mansion and sighed.

Who knows what news it brings this time?

The messenger from Chong'an stepped forward to report.

"My Lord Marquis, Princess Nianjia is back in the capital with the Heir Apparent of Count Zhongqing. The Princess sent gifts of celebration for you and Madam, as well as an invitation for Madam, delivered to the Marquis’s residence."

Princess Nianjia.

Lu Shenru knew all too well about her history with Princess Nianjia.

When she was young and followed her father to the capital, Empress Xiaorong, the late emperor’s widow, had taken a liking to her and often summoned her to the palace. Prince Yu died young, leaving only Princess Nianjia, his posthumous daughter. The late emperor raised this orphaned granddaughter in the palace.

They were close in age and temperament, having known each other since their time in the palace.

At this, Chong Ping remarked, "Madam and the Princess go way back. The Princess has only just returned to the capital and immediately sent an invitation to Madam."

Lu Shenru paused slightly. He understood the implication behind Chong Ping’s words.

Without his permission, she wasn’t going anywhere.

The man went quiet, his voice unintentionally gentler.

"Does she want to go?"

He could let her.

But the subordinate replied,

"Madam stayed silent—no reply to the Princess’s invitation."

No response...

The words burned like oil on fire, searing the heart with a slow, relentless burn.

No peace, no rest.

The man pressed his lips together in silence, then abruptly stood the next moment.

He told Chong Ping to rally the Kaiping Guard’s generals, briefly outlined the next steps, mounted his horse, and left.

In a blink, he disappeared into the dust-laden wind.

Again, the others traded confused looks.

*

The capital.

Du Lingjing reread Nianjia’s invitation.

Nianjia wasn’t summoning her to Count Zhongqing’s estate but to Prince Yu's Mansion—no prying eyes there. In the past, whenever they met outside the capital, it had been at Prince Yu's Mansion.

Prince Yu, Imperial Dowager Consort Jiang’s long-lost son. Sadly, he’d died of plague before Nianjia’s birth.

Nianjia had grown up without a father. Her grandfather, the late emperor—what attention could he spare her?

She mostly lived in the palace under Dowager Consort Jiang’s care. Back then, Du Lingjing wasn’t the one closest to her, who only occasionally entered the palace, but Wei Jue, now Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, who’d been her study partner.

NianJia and Wei Jue grew up together in the palace. Nianjia was originally meant to marry Wei Jue and even learned sewing for him, but in the end, she married Wei Cong, the Zhongqing heir from the same Wei clan, Wei Cong being Wei Jue's cousin.

Du Lingjing didn’t know exactly what had happened. She inexplicably thought of herself—she was supposed to marry the third young master, but ended up wedded into the household of Marquis Lu Weishi.

Lu Weishi...

He hadn’t returned home for days, yet he still confined her, barring her from taking even a single step outside.

Tears glimmered at the corner of her eyes.

Just then, sudden, hurried footsteps echoed outside. Before she could turn around, she heard someone announce:

"The Marquis has returned."

As the words floated through the window, he pushed aside the door curtain and strode in.

Du Lingjing’s gaze happened to turn toward the entrance.

The instant their eyes met, the room’s air went still.

Lu Shenru’s eyes caught the tears at the corner of her eyes.

Though the tears hadn’t fallen, they might as well have pierced his heart, sending a tremor through him.

But she swiftly wiped them away, coldly turning her face away.

She didn’t speak to him, nor grant him another look—as if he hadn’t been away for days, finally returning home with difficulty.

His chest constricted. He pressed his lips together in silence, leaving only the courtyard’s floral scent drifting quietly into the room.

He noticed the invitation from Princess Nianjia by her hand.

Nianjia was Dowager Consort Jiang’s granddaughter, and thus was practically Jiang family.

Were those tears—had she been thinking of Jiang Zhuxiu again...

"Why isn’t the underfloor heating lit? Aren’t you cold?" he asked her.

Du Lingjing didn’t respond. She watched as he changed in silence, then heard him speak again.

"Is there anything in the courtyard you like? Perhaps we could move a couple of pots into the room?"

His tone was mild—an outsider might think this marquis had the gentlest temperament toward her.

Du Lingjing stood up, sidestepping him toward the door.

But before she could take a single step, she was suddenly hauled back by the waist, spun around, and crushed against his chest.

His body still carried the grit and wind of his hard ride back.

Du Lingjing was held tightly against him, her entire body flush against him. He lowered his head, his gaze locking onto hers.

"Where are you going, my lady?" His mouth grazed her forehead as he spoke.

Du Lingjing caught her breath for a moment. Remembering his imposed restrictions, she scoffed.

"His Lordship has already imprisoned me in this mansion. Now, am I not even allowed to leave this room?"

Though held firmly in his arms, her words were like a spear hurled with the wind, piercing his weakest spot.

She had always been all soft words and gentleness with Jiang Zhuxiu—when had she ever been so sharp?

Each had questioned, yet neither answered.

The room was so silent one could hear a pin drop. Even the scent of blossoms outside dared not drift in further.

Finally, one of them broke first.

Lu Shenru eased his grip slightly, allowing her more comfort—but he didn’t let go.

Her hair’s fragrance teased against the tip of his nose.

Yet the moment he relaxed, she immediately pushed him away and returned to the window.

With his arms empty, his chest ached hollow.

His gaze followed her as she went back to the table by the window, taking Princess Nianjia’s invitation to put it away.

Against his will, he spoke.

"Nianjia sent you an invitation. If you wish to go..."

"I’m not going anywhere."

Du Lingjing decisively shut the invitation away.

He wouldn’t let her leave the house—even when Nianjia invited her, she required his leave.

Then she simply wouldn’t go anywhere at all.

After speaking, she held his gaze defiantly.

Lu Shenru gave a low laugh.

He wouldn’t let her leave, so she refused to go anywhere.

She was watching—just how far he’d push this.

But if he lifted the restriction, she would leave, far away. Next time, and the time after that—would he always be able to find her?

He said, "Fine," and the room fell completely silent.

The night watch’s drum sounded distantly in the alley.

Maids came to prepare their washwater. Du Lingjing then directed Ai Ye to fetch bedding and place it on the daybed.

Lu Shenru caught sight of it sidelong, assuming it was for him.

If she meant for him to sleep on the daybed, so be it.

But once the servants withdrew, she herself sat down on the daybed.

This was his estate—she would sleep on the daybed, leaving the bed for him...

This time, his breathing roughened. He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and swept her up in his arms.

In a whirl of motion, Du Lingjing found herself pinned beneath him on the bed.

His lowered gaze locked onto hers, his lips pressed into a thin line. Their breaths mingled, their heartbeats tangling, each thud unmistakable.

The bedchamber gradually filled with the familiar, moist warmth of past moments.

The man's gaze softened. Though he was her captor, his eyes held a trace of pleading.

His fingers gently brushed aside the stray hairs at her temple.

The air between them grew more tender.

But Du Lingjing raised her hand and pushed him away.

He was pushed back and fell silent for a moment before his eyes swept toward the window.

By the window near their bed had once stood the pair of adorable prayer dolls for conception she had acquired.

They should have had a child by now.

But because of Jiang Fengchuan, she no longer even displayed the dolls...

The man called for Ying Bi and Xiang Yi, two maids.

"Tomorrow, bring out my lady's prayer dolls and place them beneath the window."

His gaze shifted from the window to her face.

"The prayer dolls we prayed for must be used, or it would be disrespectful to the gods."

He slowed his speech for the last sentence, letting each word sink into Du Lingjing's ears.

Du Lingjing spun away from him.

He said nothing about today's events, simply wrapping her in a brocade quilt and telling servants to heat the floors.

He looked into her eyes.

"There's no rush."

She wouldn't look at him again. In the short time between his return and when the candles went out, she had turned from him coldly, again and again.

Lu Shenru found himself remembering the scene from that year at Mian Tower.

Now was just like then.