Chapter Eleven: The King of Dilemma

Ye Qianmu fell into a silent reverie, unmoving, until the old man interrupted her wandering thoughts with a curious, gossipy smile. “Judging by your age, you two aren’t married yet, are you? Young lady, you treat him so well that even this old man is touched.”

The words startled Ye Qianmu. She even forgot to withdraw her hand from Sui Gaolang’s face. Once she realized, she avoided the old man’s gaze, flustered and uneasy. “No, sir, we’re not... it’s not like that. We’re just acquaintances, we only just met.” Her face flushed scarlet almost instantly, the composure in her voice dissolving into a shy whisper. Seeing the old man’s obvious disbelief, she chose not to explain further. In truth, a part of her wished it were as he said.

That thought scared her. What was happening to her? How could she harbor such strange feelings for someone she’d known only a few hours? No matter what happened, the two of them could never be together. Even if she was swept up in her emotions, reason told her the gap between their stations was insurmountable—a dream that could never come true, no matter how much she wished it.

The old man dabbed disinfectant on the wound, glancing at Ye Qianmu, who remained frozen in her earlier posture. Without pausing his work, he said, “Girl, finding someone you truly like is no easy thing. If your feelings are mutual, don’t let go unless you absolutely must. Otherwise, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” His tone was full of sighs, as if offering advice from the vantage of someone who had lived through it all.

Ye Qianmu returned from her internal struggle, casting a lingering glance at Sui Gaolang before nodding. “I understand, sir. Thank you.” Her words were tinged with sorrow and hesitation, yet she lifted her head to ask, “But what if being together is impossible from the start? What should we do then?”

“In all my years, I’ve never seen anyone truly doomed to be apart,” replied the old man almost instinctively. “If two people are willing to let go of some things that stand in their way, any lovers can end up together.”

“But some things just can’t be abandoned. If I let go, I’d hurt not only myself but many others. What then?” Ye Qianmu pressed on, her heart full of confusion and contradiction.

“In that case, it’s better never to begin. If you end things before they start, there’s nothing to regret, and it’s better for both.” The old man couldn’t help adding, “But be sure in your choice—once you miss your chance, it’s gone forever.”

How many in this world enter into marriage for duty or for reasons strange and sad? To meet one’s soulmate, to love and be loved, to spend a lifetime together—what more could one wish?

Such was Chen Guangyuan’s story. Having missed his true love, he spent his remaining years as a humble healer in a remote corner, living out his solitude.

In his youth, Chen Guangyuan was famed as the greatest physician in the land, with countless disciples kneeling at his door. Even Hu Guangshen, now Director of the Imperial Academy of Medicine, was once his pupil. Chen passed on all his skills to Hu, and it was all because of his aunt—the one love he could never have. Though they loved each other, the difference in their families was too great. She married a scion of a noble house by her parents’ will, and on her wedding night, unable to accept her fate, she took her own life. From then on, Chen withdrew from the world, taught his last and brightest disciple everything he knew, and vanished into obscurity.

The moment he saw these two young people, Chen Guangyuan understood at once. The girl wore a dress with the peacock ring pattern exclusive to princesses of the Night Kingdom, while the boy’s clothing was plainly that of a commoner, and the sword at his waist belonged to a friend who’d spent years in the music halls for love. The boy’s identity was obvious.

That was why Chen Guangyuan had shared his story and wished to help them. A princess and the son of a musician—only a miracle could bring them together. Their gulf was far wider than any he had ever known. Though the Emperor of Night, whom Chen once knew, cared nothing for class prejudice, he was a man of principle who never set foot in a music hall and looked down on that profession. He would not curse his children, but this was a near-impossible quest.

Yet even knowing it was hopeless, Chen Guangyuan could not bear to see two lovers part. But solutions were not so easily found. In the end, it was up to the young ones themselves.

Chen Guangyuan saw Ye Qianmu waver and sighed inwardly. So be it—each person must choose their own path; it was not his place to judge.

“Miss, the bleeding is under control. He’s out of danger now, don’t worry.” Chen put down his scissors and needle, disinfected them, and placed them back in the medicine chest.

“Thank you, truly, thank you.” Hearing that the danger had passed, Ye Qianmu’s sadness gave way to relief, her eyes reddening with grateful tears as she thanked Chen Guangyuan, then moved to Sui Gaolang’s side.

She sat by the bed, gazing at his handsome features, saying nothing, simply waiting for him to wake. After a minute, he still showed no signs of stirring. Worried, she turned to Chen Guangyuan, who was tidying up the medical instruments. “Sir, why hasn’t he woken up yet? Is something wrong?”

Chen smiled reassuringly. “The anesthetic hasn’t worn off yet, that’s all. He’ll wake soon.”

“Third Miss,” a guard who had gone out for food now returned, “I’ve brought something to eat.”

“Thank you, you may go,” Ye Qianmu replied, her eyes never leaving the man on the bed.

“Third Miss, the physician has arrived. Should I let him in?” the guard asked.

“No, let him eat and send him back. Tell him I appreciate his efforts.” Ye Qianmu glanced at Chen Guangyuan, who was watching her as well. She then gently brushed the hair from Sui Gaolang’s brow, trying to tidy it. “Don’t let anyone know I called the imperial physician. Tell him to say nothing, especially to my brother. Just say I wanted to spend some time outside, to experience the local customs, and that I’ll return in a few hours.”

When the guard had left, Chen Guangyuan took in the scene and quietly slipped out, closing the door to leave the pair alone.

When Sui Gaolang regained consciousness, he felt an inexplicable discomfort. Perhaps it was the aftereffects of the anesthetic; his body wouldn’t move, only his eyes could open. He saw Ye Qianmu asleep at his bedside.

At the sight of her sleeping face, Sui Gaolang’s cheeks flushed to his hairline. He quickly averted his gaze, but Ye Qianmu did not stir—she was truly asleep.

Looking at the girl who had saved him from disaster, Sui Gaolang felt a profound peace. A wave of shyness and joy surged up within him.

Recalling the events of yesterday, his happiness was soon tempered by sorrow. His mother had been murdered, his days had never known peace, and from now on, he lived with only two goals: vengeance, and reclaiming his heritage, so that his mother’s spirit might rest among the ancestors of the Sui family, and his father might one day be proud of him.

Yet this girl’s appearance made him wonder, almost against his will, if he might dare to add one more wish—to marry her, and spend their lives together.

Perhaps it was growing up in a music hall that made the feeling so clear. At first, he hadn’t understood, but now, in silence, everything became obvious.

He had fallen in love—with a beautiful girl he’d known less than twelve hours. He was willing to risk his life for her; a little foolish, a little naive, but endearingly so. Sui Gaolang smiled faintly, his eyes narrowing in a way that could captivate the soul and left Ye Qianmu, upon waking, utterly lost.

The moment their eyes met, both looked away in unison, as if by silent agreement. Sui Gaolang found himself at a loss for words. It was Ye Qianmu who broke the silence. “Thank you for saving me.”

Unsure how to continue the conversation, Ye Qianmu wished Night Qianling were here; with him, there was never an awkward pause—he could talk endlessly, whatever the occasion. Her own temperament was always calm and reserved, choosing silence around strangers, much like her mother. In moments like this, it was a little embarrassing.

“You’re welcome.” As the anesthetic wore off, Sui Gaolang slowly straightened and sat up in bed. Ye Qianmu picked up a pillow and placed it behind him.

“How did you end up being hunted like that? Those men seemed far from ordinary.” Sui Gaolang was not one for conversation, but his fondness for her overcame his natural reticence. Though grief for his mother’s death left little room for budding romance, he couldn’t help but continue.

“My family offended someone, and so they came after me. I just didn’t expect to be ambushed in such a remote place.” Ye Qianmu gave a bitter laugh, mocking herself.

“It’s all right, it’s over now. Just be careful when you travel in the future.” As soon as he spoke, Sui Gaolang realized he’d ended the conversation, leaving Ye Qianmu with nothing to say.

Once again, silence fell, both afraid to meet the other’s gaze. The situation was almost comical. After a moment, they both laughed.

Sui Gaolang knew the dead could not return. Now he had to look forward, and this girl made his frozen heart start to thaw. He even wondered—was it possible to pursue love and revenge at the same time?

“It seems neither of us is very good at conversation.” After their laughter faded, Sui Gaolang looked at her seriously and extended his hand. “Miss, it’s a pleasure to meet you. You saved my life, and I saved yours. Shall we be friends?”

“All right,” Ye Qianmu replied, her lips parting slightly, her eyes filled with an indecipherable emotion, deep and complex. Sui Gaolang said nothing, watching her, until she smiled and placed her smooth, delicate hand into his. “My name is Shan Mu. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The moment their hands touched, a tingling sensation swept through them both.