GU FANG BU ZI SHANG - Volume 2, 28

Volume 2, Chapter 28

 

To describe the kind of woman Bai Pingting is was something that even Chu Beijie couldn’t do.

He sat up in bed, his eyes full of unrest as he turned to the figure lying beside him.

The morning sun managed only a trace of light to pierce the heavy clouds and fall softly on her spread-out black hair. He saw a hint of smile on her unsuspecting sleeping face.

A good dream?

Chu Beijie couldn’t help it. He drew closer to her.

He knew he hadn’t been nice to her.

For eight months, she has been imprisoned in the west chamber. Every night he violated her, gaining a lingering ecstasy each time, but he had yet to be nice to her once. n/(0𝒱𝓮1𝒷1n

Why does she still have sweet dreams? Chu Beijie didn’t understand.

He neared her, wanting to see the smile in her lips in more detail. The breath ejected from her nose sent strands of her soft hair fluttering.

Her thick eyelashes began to flutter. Chu Beijie pulled away and slipped out of the bed.

Pingting opened her eyes, seeing Chu Beijie’s turned back. She sat up, whispering, “Up already, Duke?”

His back. It was always and only the back view.

Last night’s affection was a passing cloud. When she woke, not even a trace was left.

The Chu Beijie she saw today was the same as that day he left without a word, his straight posture and unchanging heart of stone.

Eight months have passed. Now is the season of snow. Spring was still in a distant place.

“Miss, you’re up?” Her personal maid, Hongqian, stepped into the room holding a brass basin full of hot water. She placed it down on the table and rubbed her hands while saying, “It’s really cold today, and snow already started falling before dawn. It isn’t heavy, but it’s still dreadfully cold. You should wash soon, while the water’s still hot.”

She walked forward, helping Pingting off the bed. Catching a glimpse of Pingting’s frown, she hurriedly asked, “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

Pingting sat back on the bed. She closed her eyes to compose herself before opening them again. Shaking her head Pingting replied, “It’s nothing. I simply rose too quickly hence a hamstring was pulled.”

The water was warm. The mist whirled and lightly danced, enveloping the smoothly polished copper basin. Pingting slowly immersed her fingers into the water, appreciating the different temperatures.

Hongqiang stared at the ten fingers, sighing softly. “What beautiful hands.”

“Beautiful?” Pingting questioned.

“Beautiful.”

Pingting pulled her hands out of the water and Hongqian wrapped them in a white cotton towel, gently patting dry.

Tender fingertips, beautifully shaped nails and thin, scallion-like fingers.

Pingting laughed. “What’s the point about beauty? These two hands can no longer play the qin.”

“Why?” Hongqian asked curiously.

Pingting didn’t appear to be in the mood for talking. She turned away, idly looking at the bitterness of winter outside her window.

Hongqian had already been serving Pingting for over a month and knew her temper. Knowing that she’d been speaking out of place, she didn’t ask any further. She good-naturedly packed up the things, picking up the basin and preparing to exit the west chamber.

The maid walked out of the threshold. She was about to turn to close the door when she heard a voice.

The voice was like smoke and vulnerable to the wind. It left a hint of incense residual that lingered by the ear.

“I…don’t have a qin.”

The qin quickly came.

Not quite noon, a guqin had been placed on the desk.

It wasn’t something fancy like the tail-burnt guqin or made of parasol-tree, but to find such a thing in such a desolate place within half a day was an achievement within itself.

Pingting reached out, touching that qin. She stroked it gently and lovingly as if it weren’t a qin but a frightened kitten, needing much comfort.

Hongqian came in again.

“Miss, you can play qin now right?”

Pingting shook her head.

Honqian continued, “Don’t you have a qin now?”

It seemed as if pain or something else hooked the corners of Pingting’s red lips into a laugh, but she still shook her head absentmindedly. “What’s the point of having a qin? No one’s listening, therefore why waste the effort?”

“I’ll listen.”

“You?” Pingting paused, turning around. She smiled. “Can you understand what you hear?”

Before Hongqian’s frustration surfaced, Pingting began to laugh softly. “Oh well, I’ll just assume you understand it then.”

Hands were washed; incense was lit.

The hazy white smoke fluttering in midair brought an indescribable tenderness that gently floated at the tip of people’s noses.

Pingting kneeled and composed herself.

She plucked a string…

Following the soft sound, the notes danced away from the strings with invisible wings, stretching out with graceful posture and extending into the beyond.

“When there is trouble, there are heroes; when there are heroes, there are beautiful women; surviving the turmoil, surviving the turmoil…”

She opened her heart to the singing, plucking the strings with greater emotion.

Whether it be about heroes or beautiful women.

This phrase, she knew, was just silly people in a silly knot of emotion.

“If there are soldiers, there will be fame; if there is fame, there will be fraud; soldiers know fraud, soldiers know fraud…”

Despite her hands being both thin and white, her singing was as steady as a rock.

As she plucked the strings, it was as if she had returned to the dangerously shrouded cliffs of the Cloud Valley route where she was in Chu Beijie’s arms, promising to never go against each other despite the abyss below their feet.

If soldiers knew fraud, then what about feeling?

Yangfeng was a thousand miles away. She sent three letters, each word carrying tears and sorrow. Each one was more anxious than the last.

Pingting restrained her emotion. She ripped each and every one of those letters sent from a thousand miles into shreds until they became flying paper butterflies that filled the skies.

It was the cause.

How to explain? What to explain?

She could not end the House of Jing-An bloodline.

Nor did she want to believe that Chu Beijie’s love for her was nothing but a perfect scam.

If there were true feelings, how could one lose to fraud?

If there was deep love, then believe to the end. Love until the end. Regardless of the innummerable twists and turns, one’s mind should never be changed.

“Swallows bring fortune, but too much fortune brings damage. A joy to look, a joy to look…”

Steadily and tactfully overturning the accusations was the most intelligent approach.

Praying for a test of heart? It’s foolish to use love to resolve resentment.

Pingting stroked the qin, chuckling softly.

When women want love, they do everything they can.

She had always been smart, so being foolish this one time meant no harm.

The final note glided into the air, hovering in the ceiling beams as if reluctant to leave. Pingting raised her head and saw Hongqian’s intoxicated face, two teardrops already forming on her eyelashes.

“Silly girl, what are you crying for?” Pingting couldn’t help but laugh.

Hongqian raised a hand to wipe away her tears, saying unhappily, “It’s all Miss’ fault for playing such a miserable song yet I’m the one who’s to blame.”

Pingting wrinkled her little nose, revealing a childish expression. She spluttered, “Such a good song, yet in your ears, it becomes miserable?”

She took her hands off the qin and was about to tell Hongqian to pack it away, when Moran entered the room. “The Duke said that after Miss is finished playing, the qin must be returned. Whenever Miss wishes to play in the future, she is welcome to borrow it again.”

Pingting’s expressive eyes rotated before hesitantly nodding her head. “Sounds good.” She had Moran pack up the qin and walked over to the side table where a cup of tea was waiting for her.

Hongqian hurriedly added, “Miss, please don’t drink it; that tea is cold. I’ll go brew some hot tea now.” She moved forwards, ready to receive the piece of ceramic.

Pingting didn’t bother. “I feel hot from just finish playing qin, so cold tea is fine.” Not waiting for Hongqian to come to her side, she drank from the cup. In one gulp, not one drop was left. Moran had just picked up the qin and although he tried to stop her, it was already too late.

It was winter hence the tea was as cold as ice water. Ever since the chaos at the Jing-An Ducal Residence, Pingting had undergone all sorts of setbacks, resulting in weaker health. Suddenly chugging this huge mouthful of frozen tea down her throat made her chest stiffen and was momentarily unable to speak.

Honqian, seeing her expression, urgently said, “See, the cold has gotten to you now.”

Hongqian hurriedly began to fetch hot water, but Pingting grabbed her, whispering, “It’s fine, just choked a little”. She raised her head to see Moran who was still holding the qin. “Why are you still standing? Go back soon. If you’re late, the Duke will be angry again.”

Moran bowed and stepped out of the room. He did not head towards the Duke’s office. Instead, Moran turned twice at the end of the corridor until he arrived in a room adjacent to Pingting’s where Chu Beijie was waiting. He was wrapped in a mink coat, his face ashen.

“Duke, I’ve got the qin back.”

Chu Beijie scanned that qin, frowning as he asked, “How is she?”

“She’s a bit pale.”

“Nonsense!” Chu Beijie’s face darkened even more. “If it’s to relieve boredom, playing something cheerful is fine but not these complex, mind-probingly classical pieces.” After saying this, he loudly harrumphed.

Moran only then understood that the “nonsense” was not aimed at himself but at Pingting. He sighed secretly in relief when he heard Chu Beijie instruct, “Find a doctor to take her pulse.”

“Yes.” Moran lowered his head as he obeyed.

Chu Beijie’s eyebrows locked in a frown. “Who could stand such a large cup of ice cold tea? Tell Hongqian to serve her carefully and prevent this from happening again.” Moran agreed, secretly peeking at Chu Beijie’s expression which remained a raven black mess. The Duke’s temper was always abrupt when it came to Bai Pingting, making it difficult to figuring out.

The qin’s sound sprinkling life was for a brief moment and could no longer be heard.

Chu Beijie returned to his office in the afternoon. He wasn’t always in the office. Most of the time he dwelled in the neighbouring room. Doing paperwork was a lie. How would he still have paperwork these days? The secluded little building used wood thinner than his ducal residence, and it was unable to cover any sound. If Pingting sung, even if she sang softly, her sound still floated from her room room to beyond the wall, intoxicating Chu Beijie.

Even though intoxicated, he was definitely never drunk.

If he had gone crazy drunk, he would not hesitate to bypass that wall and stroll into Pingting’s room to hug the singing person tightly to his chest, cherishingly and lovingly.

But he hadn’t.

He stood at the wall, listening to her carefree singing, her conversations with Hongqian about the wind, grass and flowers that had yet to blossom.

Eight months. The most painful and longest eight months of his life.

Long ago he promised her when spring came and the flowers blossomed, he would pick some to take to the temple.

When will spring come?

When night dawned, Chu Beijie returned to Pingting’s room.

Regardless of the violation, the indifference remained immovable.

“Duke.” Pingting looked beyond the window. There was not a star in the cold, lonely night sky. She lowered her voice, “Tomorrow, perhaps there’ll be heavy snow?”

Chu Beijie held her, seemingly asleep.

She knew that he wasn’t asleep.

He knew she knew of his pretense.

Apart from indifference, he had no idea how to punish the woman beside him nor how to punish himself.

“It’s my birthday tomorrow.” Pingting whispered into Chu Beijie’s ears. “Will the Duke accompany me? It’ll snow tomorrow so allow me to play qin for Duke while admiring the snow…”

Chu Beijie couldn’t stand it any longer. He widened his arms and hugged Pingting tightly, receiving a yelp.

Don’t say any more; don’t speak any more. So what about your birthday? Pingting, I can only love you like this under the cover of darkness. When morning comes, my dearest Brother and the spirits of his dead children surface once more.

Chu Beijie parted early in the morning. Pingting stared at his back, biting her lip and staying silent.

The sky transitioned to light. The brief period of sun was replaced by gloom, dark clouds, causing a pressuringly bitter chill.

“Ah, it’s going to snow?” Hongqian breathed a sigh.

Pingting was sitting by the window. She held out her hand. She turned her head, “Look.” In the middle of her palm laid a single snowflake.

“It’s snowing.”

The snowflakes fell gently and quietly, but the winds picked up intensity, hurling the frozen droplets of water around. The sky was sullenly overcast as if sick of the sun and planned to chase it behind the clouds forever.

The sand in the hourglass slipped little by little, and Pingting silently counted.

Today was her birthday, and three hours have been wasted already.

She was born in the midst of snow at least what she imagined though in reality, it was the Duchess who was. The parents she had never met were perhaps the only people who knew the exact date of Bai Pingting’s birth.

She remembered the day the Duchess brought her to the Ducal residence. She’d boasted, “With a wit as smart as snow, she must be a baby born in heavy snow.” The Duchess then chose a snowy day to be the anniversary of her birth.

Pingting liked snow. Every year on her birthday, the Ducal Residence was vibrant with celebration. He Xia often invited a crowd of nobles to drink, Prince He Su included. The more the boys grew tipsy and drunk, the more urgent the encouragements were. “Pingting, play the qin! Hurry up and play qin! Pingting, play a piece please!”

Dongzhuo loved to prank the most and often already had the qin over brought and prepared. He’d pull her over and placed her hands at the strings as she doubled over, laughing. The crowd would always be noisy at first. As the qin sounded, everything quickly quietened down. Whether leaning or standing, they listened to the song while admiring the snow. As one song was finished, she’d hear a soft applause that was different from everyone else’s. She’d happily turn around, yelling, “Yangfeng, don’t you dare be lazy! I’m the birthday girl, so for every song, you have to play ten.”

Pingting began to chuckle, then struggled to restrain her smile.

The heavy snow seemed to mock the metamorphosis of life.

The day’s loneliness was something that no one needed to care about, but Chu Beijie had to.

He shouldn’t disregard it.

She gazed at the hourglass once more, watching the time slipping grain by grain. The person she wanted to see did not come. She had endured all sorts of coldness in these eight months yet she had not seen a smile nor heard any warm words. Why was there nothing in return?

“Hongqian.”

Hongqian stepped through a side door, asking, “What would you like, Miss?”

Pingting lowered her head, examining her slender fingers.

“Find the Duke.” She articulated each word carefully, with a pause after each. “I want to borrow the qin.”

The qin was quickly borrowed, and Moran personally carried and prepared it, saying, “If Miss would like to play qin to relieve her boredom, play something light. If it’s complex or mind-probing, please don’t play at all.”

“Where’s the Duke?”

“The Duke is…” Moran avoided her gaze, “is in his office doing paperwork.”

“Is he busy today?”

Moran was silent for a long time before he replied with a single word. “Yes.”

Pingting nodded her head. “I understand. As for the qin, I’ll return it afterwards.”

As Moran left, Hongqian tried to light the incense. Pingting interrupted her. “No need, I’ll do it myself.”

She personally broke the incense, lit it, and brought the water. She carefully dipped her hands, slowly patted them dry and sat at the qin.

Pingting positioned herself. With a small smile, she placed her scallion like fingers onto the qin, calmly tuning a few notes. She combined a vibrato and a trill, creating a startling agitation as if an armoured cavalry units rushed from within. The entire room instantly quieted down.

Pingting was on a verge of laughter yet her face was solemn, her fingers anxious. Within a moment, raging battle cries, neighing horses, and thundering drums engulfed the surroundings shook the skies. The listening Hongqian’s face was pale as she tightly clutched to the cloth covering her chest, completely devoid of energy.

Chu Beijie was not to blame; it was her own fault.

It was she who blocked Chu Beijie’s movement and it was she who said, “That promise still stands. Please let Pingting follow Duke to the ends of the earth, my honour is decided by Duke and my death decided by Duke.”

She had held out her hand, which Chu Beijie took.

From thereon, her honour, life and death, was not hers but his.

She thought she’d endured enough.

Since last spring, all she received was a back view with no lingering feelings. She had endured for eight months and finally given up on this day, a day she dearly hoped to have some affection. She would endure anything for a phrase, an expression, or even for a single trace of the person she loved.

It was a pity, but there was nothing at all.

The qin sound gradually calmed as if the sounds of war had come to an end and the few surviving bloodstained horses stood on the battlefield while a fire lightly burned a fallen flag. It was utterly desolate.

Thick sweat oozed out of Pingting’s forehead, yet she refused to give up. She struggled to finish the remaining notes. Her upper body swayed slightly before crumpling to gravity.

Hongqian was too shocked by the qin sound and had not yet recovered. A figure rushed into the room, catching hold of Pingting with one hand and the placing the other on top of the qin to cease its sound.

Pingting could only feel someone supporting her and felt her heart throb with excitement as she turned. The light in her eyes suddenly dimmed as she pursed her lips. “Let go.” She struggled to get up. A pang of dizziness instantly washing over yet she refused to make any sound.

Moran hurriedly let go, reasonably saying, “The Duke is currently working outside this room. Miss’ qin sound…is too loud.”

Pingting’s expression was tired. She laughed bitterly. “I am so sorry about that.”

Moran then added, “The Duke also reminds that Miss is borrowing this qin. Since Miss has already played a few pieces, it’s time to take it back.”

“Moran, I want to see the Duke.”

Moran hesitated for a moment as if listening to the surroundings. He waited for a while before gritting his teeth. “The Duke is very busy. He will come in the evening as usual.”

“I have something important that I must tell him.” Pingting stressed every word. “I must clarify all of the misunderstandings he currently has.”

Moran hesitated for a while again, but there was no sound to be heard. This time, even he seemed a little disappointed himself, and sighed as he repeated, “The Duke, he…he will come in the evening as usual.”

Pingting’s eyes flicked over to Moran who seemed to be afraid of her gaze. He turned away. Pingting lowered her voice. “You can take it back. Thank the Duke for me.” She could no longer take the weight of her body and gripped the chair for support as she slowly sat down.

Moran picked up the qin and spun out of the room.

Chu Beijie was not in his office. He was standing in the middle of the raging snowstorm. His body stood, determined and fixed like iron as if completely unaware of the snow around him.

“Duke, I have retrieved the qin.” Moran passed the qin to him.

A few snowflakes had gotten onto the qin. In Chu Beijie’s eyes, it brought an unexpected prickling sensation.

He was regretting it. He shouldn’t have given her a qin and shouldn’t have listened to the qin’s sound. Pingting’s last piece fluttered in his heart like an unwavering ghost yet stabbed at his heart like a knife, slicing his flesh into the finest pieces while death lingered. When he heard that final, elegiac piece, he had felt an overpowering devastation, scaring him into a cold sweat.

Without his few remaining threads of reason, he wouldn’t have asked Moran to go in. He would have rushed inside himself. He’d pick her up and would severely warn her to never, ever, play such a piece again.

She had enough of life.

She didn’t care about life or death. She wanted, with war-like determination, to generously cut her throat and die a tragic death that belonged to anyone but herself.

He deeply hated her but could not stand the idea of losing her.

Moran couldn’t help but ask, “Duke, are you really not going to see Miss Bai? Miss Bai said…”

Chu Beijie’s gaze was like daggers and tossed the qin at his face, which he caught with a shudder.

Moran hurriedly lowered his head, “I, your servant, deserve death.”

A strong gust of wind blew past his ear. He felt something colder than the snow.

It was a while before he heard Chu Beijie’s deep voice.

“You can go.”

Chu Beijie returned to his office and did not come out again, not even for lunch. Moran was jumpy all day. He uncomfortably waited for two hours in the side room until Hongqian entered with a food container. She asked worriedly, “What are we to do? Miss refuses to eat.”

She opened the food container, taking each dish out one by one two different meat dishes, two different vegetable dishes, a dish of pickled radish, and snowy white rice. None were touched.

“I spent ages begging her, but she seemed to be counting the rice grains or something. After picking out a few, she put her chopsticks down and said she was full. If this continues, she’ll end up getting sick. The Duke would peel the skin off all of us servants.”

“Peel whose skin?” A looming shadow appeared at the doorway to the office.

This startled Hongqian. She spun around to look but quickly lowered her head. “Duke…”

Chu Beijie’s gaze fell on the laid out dishes of the food container. “Is it her?”

“Yes,” replied Moran.

Hongqian carefully, concisely reported, “Miss Pingting only drank half of bowl of porridge this morning. She barely touched her lunch. I thought this wasn’t too good, so I came to tell General Chu.”

Chu Beijie’s heavy gaze shot towards her. “Has she been like this recently?”

“Her appetite hasn’t been good since winter. She is eating less and less these days and it seemed a little better last night. She ate some side dishes and a whole bowl of rice.”

Moran seemed to remember something, and lowered his voice as he whispered to Chu Moran, “Last night, Duke told me to give the dishes sent from the Ducal Residence to Miss Bai. Perhaps…”

Chu Beijie listened, before instructing Hongqian. “There’s still some of those dishes left. Take them to her.”

Hongqian was originally chosen to serve Pingting for her clever and well-behaved nature. Seeing Chu Beijie unangered, the maid plucked up her courage. Her voice. involuntarily having a little too much fear, softly said, “Reporting to the Duke, I thought that perhaps Miss Bai liked those side dishes, so I had them prepared for today. However, it wasn’t helpful at all. She didn’t touch them yet she claimed she was full.”

Chu Beijie coldly gazed at the cold dishes. “Understood, you may go.”

After sending back Hongqian, he turned to Moran. He faintly asked, “What do you think?”

“Yes?” Moran was perplexed by the question. After studying Chu Beijie’s expression, he knew that he couldn’t afford to say the wrong thing, but could only answer in such a way.

Chu Beijie seemed to be mumbling to himself however, “She can’t take it any more, right?”

“Duke…”

Before Moran could finish his words, Chu Beijie suddenly interrupted. “Don’t say anymore!” He turned away, his hands behind his back, shoulders constantly trembling. It could have been because of anger or of excitement. Several moments later, he finally calmed down. His voice was cold. “Let’s go to see her.”

The two neared Pingting’s room and happened to hear sound coming from the inside.

“Miss Bai, the Duke commanded me. I cannot defy his orders. Whether your body is unwell or not, please just let me take your pulse so that I can explain myself.”

“I’ll go see the Duke. Just say I’m not sick.”

Chu Beijie’s thick eyebrows suddenly creased. He pushed open the door and marched into the room. His body was huge. He stood by the window, blocking most of the sunlight to enter room and casting a massive shadow onto the floor.

The entire room fell quiet.

Pingting was wearing a little jacket. She sat on the bed covered in green velvet blankets, suggesting that she had just gotten up from an afternoon nap when the doctor had come. Her silky black hair had yet to be combed and was scattered on one side of her body. Her white face and black eyes were completely devoid of expression. She hadn’t expected that Chu Beijie would suddenly rush in. She only felt a huge gush of wind darting inside and the room dropping several degrees. She jerked her head upwards to meet Chu Beijie’s blazing eyes. Their hearts suddenly thumped as their gazes touched as if stuck together, unable to move.

Chu Beijie’s cold fury rose again but wavered under her gaze. Trying to regain his composure, he waved the others away, “You can all leave.”

Hongqian, Moran, and the doctor immediately cleared the way. Only two people locked in gaze remained in the entire room.

Chu Beijie stared condescendingly at Pingting for a long time. He looked at her pale face and fragile, uncomfortable body, remembering her crisply healthy body back then. He was enraged she refused to see the doctor despite her current state. But the angrier he was, the calmer his tone. He asked, “You’re not such a disgraceful person, so why are you doing such a ridiculous thing for?”

It would have been better if he hadn’t asked. Pingting lowered her eyelids and began to chuckle softly. She raised her energetic eyes, smiling at Chu Beijie. “The Duke is here. Pingting’s goal is finally fulfilled.”

Even though she was not a beauty of the upper ranks, her clever eyes were seductive enough. Coupled with her sweet smile that revealed two fine dimples, Chu Beijie’s heart was pierced. Chu Beijie stepped forward until his line of sight was filled with her, the woman in her bed.

His war-like expression cold and unfeeling resurfaced again. Chu Beijie’s numbing coldness enveloped Pingting’s body.

“Even now that you are before me, why do you still play these pointless tricks?”

Pingting raised her head to look at Chu Beijie. She lowered her voice, “Duke is wrong. How is this a pointless trick?”

Having the Duke by Pingting’s side for this brief moment, in Pingting’s eyes, was a happiness that she would not swap for even all of the world’s riches.

This sentence was like a master move, an attack that caught Chu Beijie off guard. He had planned to leave, but couldn’t bear it right now. With a tug from Pingting’s small hand, he couldn’t help but sit down by the bed.

Pingting’s warm body leaned towards him, her hands tightly wound around his neck. Chu Beijie hated her for poisoning his nephews with her schemes and sworn never to show any affection. That moment, however, he couldn’t bear pushing away so he held her. “You wanted to see me to tell me what?”

“It’s too late.”

“Too late?”

Pingting hugged Chu Beijie tightly, lowering her voice. “I was going to say it, but Duke has missed that chance. Why would Pingting beg a third time to get someone to listen to their innocence? From my birth to my death, I will no longer tell Duke the truth. If you wish to wrongly accuse me, then go ahead and do so.”

Chu Beijie suddenly stood up, throwing her onto the bed, furious. “You’re not repenting and still playing these tricks?”

He turned and stormed away.

“Please wait, Duke!” Pingting suddenly yelped out, forcing Chu Beijie to pause.

“Pingting has already thought this through.” Pingting’s voice remained soft but gradually turned cold. “Since eight months of endurance is unable to make Duke fall in love with Pingting once more, there is no reason for Pingting to forcibly stay.”

Chu Beijie promptly turned around, his voice icier. “Don’t you dare run away.”

“No,” Pingting laughed shallowly, “I’m committing suicide.”

Chu Beijie laughed scornfully. “To use the death threat is the most flawed tactic ever.”

Pingting paid no attention to his scorn and continued, “Unless the Duke stays with me at all times, I will not continue to live peacefully.”

Chu Beijie fiercely replied, “In my hands, dying is not such an easy task.”

Her determination met with Chu Beijie’s blazing eyes, unwavering. Slightly ashamed, she lowered her voice, “A person who wishes wholeheartedly to commit suicide cannot be stopped by anyone.”

Chu Beijie suddenly opened the curtains, allowing the snowflakes to spiral inside.

“Moran!”

“Here!” Moran hurriedly rushed forward.

“Make sure,” he pointed at the thin figure in the room, “you take good care of her. If there is the slightest hint of an accident, report it to me at once!”

Translation Notes:

“As smart as snow”: This is a very common metaphor in Chinese. (I don’t know why or how this metaphor came to be, so I really just left it for humour here.)

“Tail-burnt guqin”: One of the four greatest guqin of China, with the most famous “history”.

“Threshold”: The strip of wood/stone at the bottom of a doorway. A raised threshold is/was popular in Chinese architecture and the taller it is, the more prestigious the family is.