Chapter 73
Chapter 73
No one dared touch Pei Xianjing.
A man who would not bow or abase himself even before the Emperor now lay beside the moat like a corpse, all for the sake of one woman.
Before long, Pei Guofei returned with several physicians.
They dropped to their knees on the ground, some taking his pulse while others inserted needles.
After a long while, an older physician said, “Lord Pei, your son has damaged his organs from excessive grief. His heart meridian has also been injured.”
At those words, Pei Congxian could no longer hold back his tears.
The exalted Second Grand Secretary bowed his head, hands trembling. Through his tear-blurred eyes, he saw several strands at Pei Xianjing’s temples suddenly turn white.
“My son. Oh, my son!” Pei Congxian cried toward the heavens.
Lady Pei nearly collapsed in fright. Qingling hastily supported her. Her entire body trembled, her face deathly pale.
Pei Xianjing was carried into the Duke’s estate.
At the same time, Xing Shuwei’s carriage had already left the capital’s territory.
Xing Shuwei was hunched over, her body slumped crookedly inside the carriage.
“Qiutong, I do not know why, but my heart is pounding terribly.” Her complexion was poor, and her naturally lustrous eyes now seemed on the verge of spilling tears.
Covering her chest, she pressed down hard with her fingers. “Qiutong, am I worried about my aunt, the Empress Dowager? Why… why does it feel as though my heart is being wrung?”
Qiutong gently patted her back to help her breathe.
“Have some water, Miss. We have already left the capital, so let us stop thinking about its people and affairs.
“From now on, the world will be wide open to us. They will live their lives and we will live ours, with no ties between us.”
Qiutong held the water flask to her lips.
Xing Shuwei took a small sip, but no matter how she tried, she could not swallow it.
“Cough.” She coughed once.
Qiutong hurriedly wiped her mouth with a handkerchief, only to find red staining the white cloth.
Water spread the crimson stain until it turned pink.
“Miss!” Qiutong was terrified.
Xing Shuwei clutched the handkerchief and stopped her from raising the alarm. She coughed several more times, and only after no more blood appeared did she quietly curl up and lie down.
“Perhaps the swings between grief and joy these past two days, along with traveling without rest day or night, have simply become too much for my body,” she said.
“I do not want to delay on the road. I want to reach Qizhou as quickly as possible. Do not let Yan’er or the noble heir know.”
Qiutong nodded emphatically.
The carriage raced along the official road, leaving the capital farther and farther behind.
Xing Shuwei simply lowered her eyelids and repeated inwardly, Qizhou. Qizhou.
Those two words gradually subdued the anguish she could not suppress.
* * *
Qiansheng Pavilion.
Pei Xianjing sank into a grand armchair beside the window. His gaze empty, he stared in the direction of Qianchen Pavilion.
Chengde reported from beside him, “Eldest Young Master, all the properties Miss Xing previously entrusted the Fourth Young Master to acquire are still there.
“The silver deposited in the bank under her name is also untouched.”
This meant Xing Shuwei truly was dead.
Had she escaped, she would certainly have needed money to establish herself.
Chengde ventured to speak again. “The palace sent out these two folding fans.”
With the utmost care, he pushed the brocade box to Pei Xianjing’s hand.
In only a few days, the Eldest Young Master had become a different man.
He could summon no strength at all and looked every inch an invalid.
Even the movement with which he opened the folding fan was exceedingly slow.
Its pleats spread little by little beneath his fingertips. The scent of ink rushed to his nose, mingled with the familiar fragrance of osmanthus.
The writing that met his eyes was not in her familiar hand.
But Pei Xianjing knew that Xing Shuwei had indeed left it behind.
“This is the ink commonly used in my room. Of course I recognize it.”
Pei Xianjing murmured under his breath, tracing each character of the poem on the fan with his fingertip.
He had long known that the writing she produced with her left hand was identical to the Empress Dowager’s.
But never had he imagined that, in the end, this handwriting would bring her to such a fate!
How could she have been so foolish? Had she thought the Empress Dowager would protect her merely because she belonged to the Empress Dowager’s maternal clan?
He had failed her. He had put her in danger time and again, forcing her to plan for herself without regard for the consequences.
He had buried her with his own hands.
Pei Xianjing’s brows drew together so tightly that a crease formed between them and would not fade.
Chengde wanted to offer a few words of comfort, but anything he might say felt superfluous.
Pei Congxian had come several times, but each time he was refused entry to Qiansheng Pavilion.
The Eldest Young Master had killed the Empress’s father and his entire family. The censors of the Censorate seized the opportunity to submit memorials impeaching him.
He had originally been poised to enter the Grand Secretariat. Once Pei Congxian succeeded Qi Yusheng as Chief Grand Secretary, Pei Xianjing’s appointment as Second Grand Secretary would have been assured.
Now, both father and son’s promotions had come to nothing.
The Emperor wished to repair his relationship with Pei Xianjing. Not only did he decline to hold him accountable, he issued an edict dissolving Pei Xianjing’s engagement to Princess Jin’an.
Even when a eunuch serving at the Emperor’s side came to proclaim the edict, Pei Xianjing did not appear. The Duke handled everything in his stead.
Chengde told him all of this, but Pei Xianjing showed no concern. His sole focus was ordering Chengde to determine whether Miss Xing was truly dead.
Chengde overlooked not even the smallest detail.
The truth was cruel. Miss Xing really was dead.
Pei Xianjing closed the folding fan and placed it on his lap.
As for the one bearing the Empress Dowager’s calligraphy, he tossed it aside without a thought.
“Place her memorial tablet in my bedchamber.” At that moment, Pei Xianjing finally accepted the truth.
“Yes.” Chengde did not dare hesitate.
So what if it broke propriety? Nothing mattered more than easing the pain in the Eldest Young Master’s heart.
In the courtyard of Qiansheng Pavilion, Pei Xianjing erected a cenotaph for Xing Shuwei just outside his study window.
He carved both the gravestone and memorial tablet himself.
Summer had arrived. Whenever the wind blew, waves of emerald rippled through the bamboo grove.
From beyond the window, Pei Xianjing stared at Xing Shuwei’s gravestone.
“Weiwei, you do not know, do you? They plotted every step and believed they had truly killed the Eleventh Prince.
“Little did they know that I had already substituted him for another. The one who died was merely a replacement whose allotted years had run their course.”
As he spoke, he tipped back his head and swallowed a mouthful of wine, then continued speaking to himself. “Weiwei, how could you think I lacked the ability to keep you safe? No matter how treacherous they are or how well they hide themselves, have I not always found a way?”
“You never believed I would protect you.
“Blame me. I never explained anything clearly, and even at my side, you lived in constant fear.”
“It will not be like that in the future. From now on, whatever plans I make, I will tell you every detail.”
He rose and stepped closer, lifting his fingers to touch the characters on the gravestone. His movement was as gentle as though he were touching Xing Shuwei’s cheek.
“Do not worry, Weiwei. Not one of those who harmed you will come to a good end.
“My Weiwei suffered during the final hours of her life. I will personally send them to accompany you in death.
“Do not be afraid. I will make them die in greater pain than you did.
“Wait for me a little longer. Once I have settled all of this, I will go and join you.”
“I know you did not want to be trapped in Qiansheng Pavilion, but I… I grew accustomed to having you beside me… Weiwei.”
Thousands of unspoken words became a pain he could not swallow. Pei Xianjing ground it to pieces and, together with the agony tearing through his throat, forced it down into his belly.