Chapter Fourteen: Unspoken Truths
Pushing open the door, Lian Heng found Yun Zixing leaning against the wall with arms crossed, a faint, teasing smile playing on his lips.
"What's this? Displeased with me, little one?" Yun Zixing's voice was lighthearted, yet laced with a peculiar sharpness. "You know I can't stay at your house all day, don't you? With all this tension lately, I've even had to turn down a few invitations from the lovely Linglong."
His smile widened mischievously. "The Lian family drama is truly endless! Honestly, little one, why don't you just come away with me?"
Half-joking, he reached out and placed a hand on Lian Heng's cheek, feigning concern. "Look at you! Sleepless nights have stolen all the color from your face."
"I'm fine," Lian Heng replied, sidestepping his touch. Her eyes flicked toward Di Yun, who stood stiff and silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. His expression was unreadable, but a glimmer of pain flickered in his gaze.
"Miss Lian is not Linglong," Di Yun remarked coldly, meticulously examining the room. "And since Master Lian has chosen not to involve the authorities, I'll conduct the investigation myself. The truth," he added, lifting a delicate silver incense ball adorned with pomegranate blossoms and bird motifs, "is already within reach."
He opened the ball, carefully poured its powdery contents into a paper packet, and sealed it.
"Indeed, the truth is near," Yun Zixing interjected, his tone suddenly more serious. He opened a hidden compartment in a drawer, revealing a small bag of green powder.
"It looks just like matcha," Yun Zixing mused, testing the powder with a silver needle. Instantly, the needle turned black.
Di Yun's expression darkened. His hand clenched at his side, but when his eyes met Lian Heng's, a faint flush crossed his face. For all his poise and maturity, he was still just a nineteen-year-old boy, shaken by this startling discovery.
When Lian Zheng learned what had been found, he stormed into the servant quarters where Lu Qiaoqiao was confined. His anger erupted in a barrage of accusations, his voice echoing off the walls. He even threatened to expel her from the Lian household.
Lu Qiaoqiao, her face pale and her hands trembling, vehemently denied the accusations. But before she could leave the room, she collapsed in a pool of blood. She had miscarried.
The sight of the dark red stain struck Lian Heng like a physical blow.
"Father, you're too impulsive! What if she was framed?" Lian Heng protested, her voice tight with emotion.
"And you're still defending her?" Lian Zheng roared, his face livid. "The evidence is clear! Would you only believe it if she had killed your mother?"
At that moment, Su Caiyun appeared, supporting the trembling Yu Luoying. "Ah Heng," Su chided gently, "at times like this, you must stand firm. Your mother was killed. Isn't that proof enough?"
Lu Qiaoqiao lay weakly in Lian Zheng's arms, her face ashen.
"Call the physician," Lian Zheng commanded frantically. His earlier fury had evaporated, replaced by regret and panic.
Lu Qiaoqiao's lips curled into a faint, bitter smile. "You truly don't trust me," she murmured. "And I… was a fool to trust you."
Her voice was barely audible, but it cut through Lian Zheng like a blade. He clung to her limp body, calling her name over and over, but her eyes fluttered shut as she began to sing softly:
"A letter from afar, sent with longing. Above, it speaks of eternal yearning; below, of endless separation."
The melody lingered in the air like a fragile wisp of smoke, carrying both tenderness and sorrow.
Three years ago, in the bustling Yunxin Pavilion, Lian Zheng had first met her. She was as graceful as a lotus on a tranquil pond. Her soft voice singing that very song had captivated his heart.
One was a dazzling merchant, the other a woman of rare beauty. They had shared three years of love, yet in the end, "eternal yearning" gave way to "endless separation."
Now, in this moment of anguish, Lian Zheng's tears fell freely. "Qiaoqiao… please, stay with me!" he pleaded.
But her world had already darkened. The child was gone.
After the miscarriage, Lu Qiaoqiao recovered for only a few days before making a decision. She would leave the Lian household.
"I failed to kill Ah Heng or Miss Lian," she said flatly. "Though my sins don't merit death, I have no place here anymore. And after all, Master, you did say you wanted me gone."
She took nothing with her but a few simple clothes. As she walked out of the mansion, her once-graceful figure now appeared frail and weary, yet her back remained straight.
Watching her leave, Lian Heng's thoughts were a tangle of emotions. One phrase surfaced in her mind: storming off in anger.
Why did men insist on marrying so many wives?
Lu Qiaoqiao vowed never to believe in love again. Never again would she entangle herself in the labyrinth of marriage and jealousy.
And so she left, leaving behind a shattered Lian household and a man who, despite his wealth and power, found himself utterly bereft.