Ch 33: When the Wild Goose Returns

Qing Yan’s first thought was—how could an outsider man have the nerve to stand in the courtyard asking to enter a lady’s sleeping quarters?

But she quickly remembered: Chang Bai was no longer the older brother she once knew. Now, as a eunuch serving the palace, he had been “cleansed.”

Still, Qing Yan felt uncomfortable receiving him in her sleeping quarters while wearing nightclothes. She changed into her regular clothes, finished washing up, and only then allowed him in.

When Chang Bai entered, Sui’er was bent over, tidying the bedding.

His eyes brushed past the disheveled bedding, and a strange sting flashed through his chest.

The pain came quickly—and without reason.

He withdrew his gaze and bowed. “Greetings to My Lady.”

Qing Yan deliberately maintained the princess’s airs, mimicking Princess Huachao’s tone of speech. She drew out her words lazily: “What is it?”

“It was this servant’s failure to allow a criminal disguised as a eunuch to sneak into the estate. I’ve already redrawn the patrol schedule overnight and came to report it to you.”

Qing Yan leaned on her hand, putting on an expression of boredom. She said listlessly, “Why bother me with such trifles?”

“Yes. My Lady is correct to reprimand me.” Chang Bai bowed lower.

Qing Yan huffed and raised her chin slightly, appearing rather displeased.

She said, “Just remember this—it better not happen again. If it does, ten heads won’t be enough for you to lose!”

“Yes.” A faint crease appeared between Chang Bai’s brows.

His Qing’er had always been cheerful and soft-spoken, with dimples in her smile. She would never speak this way.

“Leave now!” Qing Yan waved her hand.

“Yes, My Lady.”

Chang Bai was about to turn when his gaze unintentionally swept across Qing Yan’s hand—specifically, the web between her thumb and forefinger.

He froze.

There, on her left hand, was a tiny red mole.

Before he could look more closely, Qing Yan quickly pulled her hand back and sat upright.

A glint of suspicion flickered through Chang Bai’s eyes.

Qing’er had a red mole in that exact spot.

He thought he had just seen the same on Princess Huachao’s hand—but hadn’t seen it clearly.

“What are you still doing here?” Qing Yan’s voice turned cold.

Chang Bai could not stay any longer. He bowed and retreated.

But in his heart, he made up his mind: next time, he would find a way to confirm whether that red mole truly existed.

Qing Yan had withdrawn her hand because she, too, remembered the mole.

It was the only visible one on her body—and she knew Chang Bai had seen it before.

Did he see it just now?

She tried to read his expression as he left. He likely hadn’t seen clearly.

But sooner or later, he would.

What should she do?

Qing Yan walked slowly to the incense table in the southwest corner of the room.

Lifting the candle lamp, she remarked casually, “The pattern on this lamp base is quite pretty.”

Qing’er was about to agree, but then—Qing Yan’s hand trembled. The lamp tipped, and flame spilled onto her left hand.

She cried out in pain.

Qing’er and Sui’er panicked and rushed to find the burn ointment.

Sui’er quickly treated the burn and wrapped Qing Yan’s hand in layer after layer of gauze.

The flame had singed her skin, but for Qing Yan, this pain was nothing.

She had been thinking of Chang Bai—and became lost in thought.

She had met him at ten years old, after being taken in by her lady.

Her lady’s father was the Prefect of Zhanyuan Prefecture. Her lady had married into a once-wealthy but fallen family. Her husband had been betrothed to her since birth, and the Prefect had taken him in after his family’s downfall—paying for his education and helping him prepare for the civil service exams.

Her lady and her husband grew up together, married, and were deeply in love. Eventually, they had a daughter.

Qing Yan had grown up at their side, and thus saw Chang Bai often, since he served that man. In a way, she and Chang Bai grew up together.

Then her lady and the man married, and the household was harmonious.

As Qing Yan matured, she occasionally overheard whispers from the other maids.

They said the man’s gaze had lingered on Qing Yan after the lady became pregnant.

Qing Yan, having once been sold from place to place—passing through even a brothel—was always more sensitive than most.

In a household like this, it wasn’t unusual for a maid to be taken as a concubine.

But the man had a complicated position. He owed everything to his wife’s family. Even if their marriage was nominally equal, it always carried the air of dependence. He would not dare take concubines openly.

Because Qing Yan had been betrayed and sold so many times, she placed enormous weight on kindness.

She knew that if not for her lady taking her in, she might have grown up in that brothel and become like the other courtesans.

She remembered standing quietly by the door, watching her lady hold the little girl and sing her to sleep, the moonlight pouring over them.

Her lady’s gentle smile still tugged at Qing Yan’s heart.

What should she do?

She couldn’t bear to upset her lady. She should have distanced herself early on, before anything ever happened.

She knew that if she told her lady she wanted to retrieve her deed of sale and leave, the lady would surely agree.

But she couldn’t bring herself to part from her.

A few days later, the man casually mentioned wanting to betroth her to Chang Bai.

Qing Yan was stunned.

Had she misunderstood everything from the start?

Seeing the man’s gentle, fatherly expression as he soothed the little girl, Qing Yan began to doubt herself.

Perhaps he had only been momentarily tempted, but now had come to his senses and intended to devote himself entirely to her lady.

The maids at her lady’s side all seemed to be matched to the attendants at the man’s.

Suddenly, Qing Yan thought—if she married Chang Bai, wouldn’t that both avoid suspicion and allow her to stay by her lady’s side forever?

Besides, Chang Bai had always treated her well.

At the time, she thought marrying Chang Bai was the best choice.

So, she agreed.

Her lady was surprised, but gave her blessing.

However, the lady said she was still too young—barely fourteen—and kept her for another year.

And after that…

Did she hate Chang Bai?

No, not really.

Everyone has limits. Seeking benefit and avoiding harm is human nature. No one should be expected to bear full responsibility for someone else’s safety.

Rather than blame others for standing by, it’s better to blame herself for being weak and powerless.

Qing Yan had never truly hated anyone.

It wasn’t worth it.

She frowned, lips tightly pressed together.

If she could turn back time, maybe she would’ve left her lady early on and married someone outside the household.

Maybe she would’ve risked her lady’s disbelief and told her everything.

Qing Yan sighed.

“Does it hurt, My Lady?” Qing’er asked nervously.

Qing Yan returned to her senses, realizing she’d been zoning out for who knows how long. Qing’er and Sui’er were both watching her anxiously.

She immediately smiled and said, “It doesn’t hurt, but I’m starving to death.”

Qing’er and Sui’er hurried out to summon someone to bring food.

For the rest of the day, Qing Yan remained in the room, waiting for Wen Xi and Duan Wucuo to return.

She had originally only planned to wait for Wen Xi, but after what happened with Cheng Ji, she found herself hoping Duan Wucuo would come back soon too—with news from the palace.

Wen Xi returned first.

When a maid reported her arrival, Qing Yan didn’t let Qing’er or Sui’er come with her—she rushed straight to Wen Xi’s room alone.

“Sister Wen Xi!”

She pushed the door open.

Wen Xi was sitting at the table, staring blankly at a dagger in her hand.

Seeing Qing Yan, she silently put the dagger away.

Qing Yan made a curious sound. “Isn’t that General Li’s dagger?”

“Yes. It’s not entirely safe being in a foreign land. General Li gave it to me for self-defense.”

“Oh.”

Qing Yan sat across from her and said, “General Li is really devoted. I hope once he returns to the Tao Kingdom, he can let go of the princess and find someone new.”

“Why do you always care about other people’s affairs? None of that has anything to do with you. You’d be better off worrying about yourself.”

Wen Xi’s tone was cold.

Qing Yan looked at her in confusion. Wen Xi’s mood shift seemed unprovoked.

She figured it must have something to do with Cheng Ji’s death and said nothing more.

As Wen Xi looked at Qing Yan, the word sincerity came to mind.

Qing Yan’s kindness and genuineness often left her puzzled.

Wen Xi sighed silently and tucked the dagger back into its case.

She would never tell Qing Yan that the dagger General Li gave her wasn’t just for self-defense—it was to constantly remind her to protect the real Princess Huachao.

And if Qing Yan were ever exposed—she was to be eliminated.

Qing Yan waited and waited, but Duan Wucuo never came back.

As time dragged on, her unease grew.

She summoned Steward Bai and asked him for news.

Sure enough, less than a day had passed, and Cheng Ji’s death had already caused a huge uproar in the capital.

While she remained unaware inside the estate, the outside world was in chaos.

Word had it that the old Madam of the Cheng family had fainted from crying several times, and the Left prime minister was so furious he skipped court that morning.

There was no word yet from the Empress Dowager—but there was no doubt the news had already reached the palace.

Now the Imperial Guard was out in full force, combing every street and alley.

Several high-ranking officials had been personally appointed by the emperor to investigate.

And yet, the Left Chancellor still wasn’t satisfied. He had already mobilized his own forces, determined to get justice for his only grandson.

Qing Yan only then learned that Duan Wucuo had tampered with Cheng Ji’s corpse. His death had been gruesome—his head severed, the wound on his neck unnaturally clean.

His limbs were intact, but every joint had been crushed.

His internal organs were missing, though remnants had been found in his mouth.

Qing Yan was horrified.

The more she heard, the more anxious she became.

Only a few people in the estate knew what had happened the night before.

Steward Bai tried to reassure her. “Do not worry for His Highness. He will be fine.”

Worry for Duan Wucuo?

Qing Yan was clearly more concerned about herself—and Wen Xi.

“His Highness has returned!” Sui’er rushed in, knowing Qing Yan had been waiting anxiously.

Qing Yan jumped up with a start and ran out.

In the courtyard, she saw Duan Wucuo walking toward her.

But one look at his face, and all her questions died in her throat.

A calm, gentle smile was on his face—but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He rolled the Buddhist prayer beads between his fingers. His monk’s robes were perfectly arranged, making him look otherworldly, composed, and refined.

It was said Duan Wucuo never lost his temper.

He smiled—even when killing.

Qing Yan instinctively stopped. Seeing the expression on his face, she knew he was truly angry.

A memory from childhood resurfaced—being scolded by the old women in the household. That fear of Duan Wucuo stirred in her again.

When he approached, she reflexively stepped aside to let him pass.

Clearly, she wasn’t the only one who noticed. The courtyard fell completely silent.

Even after Duan Wucuo passed, Qing Yan stood frozen in place.

If her actions had implicated him, Qing Yan felt a deep guilt.

She exchanged a glance with Wen Xi, then bit her lip and decided to go find Duan Wucuo.

He had gone to the kitchen.

Qing Yan followed and peered in through the open kitchen window.

Duan Wucuo was slicing meat.

His long, fair fingers held down the marbled pork belly. The other hand gripped the knife, his movements practiced and smooth.

She couldn’t tell whether it was the beauty of his hands or the fluid grace of his actions—but watching him slice meat, Qing Yan found a strange sense of aesthetic pleasure.

She quietly observed his expression.

Head bowed, eyes lowered, completely focused.

Only then did she notice—his eyelashes were long.

She asked softly, “Your Highness, what are you doing?”

“Steamed pork with rice flour.”

°❀.ೃ࿔°❀.ೃ࿔