After the Cold and Aloof Husband's Mask Falls - Chapter 65

After Cui Jue departed, Gu Wanlan returned to her room alone.

As the hem of her skirt had gathered quite a bit of dust while she was on the roof, she prepared to shed the outfit and change into a new one to join Qi Rong and the others for the evening meal.

However, upon opening the wardrobe doors and seeing the neatly folded sets of men’s robes inside, Gu Wanlan froze for a moment.

…Cui Jue had forgotten to take his things.

Even though, as the Head of the Cui Family, he likely didn’t lack the items he left behind at the Protector State Duke’s Estate, they were his belongings after all. It was better to organize them and gather them in one place.

Gu Wanlan was about to summon a maid to tidy them up when the image of Cui Jue’s back—as he handled her clothes and straightened the bedding every morning—surfaced in her mind.

She reached out to touch the men’s robes in the wardrobe, her lips thinning.

…His clothes were mostly white or cyan, colors that complemented his aloof and refined aura. She liked them immensely, so when she bought clothes for him later on, she mostly chose those two colors. But she vaguely remembered that on that snowy night he entered the palace, the man standing beside Emperor Qingyuan had been wearing a black cloak.

What was his truly favorite color? She didn’t know.

After a bit of sorting, Gu Wanlan realized that what she didn’t know extended far beyond that.

Since she had declined the service of maidservants, everything in this room had essentially been managed by Cui Jue. The books on the shelves, the flowers by the windowsill, even the towels and wooden clogs placed side-by-side…

Everything had been arranged according to her preferences and tastes. He never seemed to express his own likes; most of the time, he was like a silent stream, quietly following her and gently enveloping her.

Gu Wanlan stopped what she was doing and let out a helpless laugh.

No wonder he had made a special trip to the estate yet left his belongings behind. He truly was… cunning.

Gu Wanlan lost the heart to continue tidying.

Forget it. There were so many empty rooms in her estate; she would simply move into another one.

She left the items scattered in the room and bundled up a set of bedding, intending to head to another courtyard. As she turned, however, her gaze caught the slightly ajar door of the study.

Earlier today, it seemed Cui Jue had emerged from that very study.

Since their marriage, she hadn’t spent much time at the estate. Even when she did return, she mostly just went to the inner chamber to sleep. This study had been used almost exclusively by Cui Jue. Furthermore, knowing the etiquette of not disturbing an artist at work, she had never once stepped foot inside.

Holding the bundle of bedding, Gu Wanlan pushed open the study door as if guided by an invisible hand.

With a soft creak, the clear moonlight spilled into the room.

The moment she stepped inside, she smelled that faint, elegant scent of ink so similar to the one on Cui Jue’s person. The study had been kept very clean by him. Gu Wanlan casually set the bedding on a small table and lit a nearby candle.

As the flame flickered to life, it illuminated two scrolls of calligraphy hanging in the room. To her surprise, they were written in a wild cursive style—vastly different from his usual aura. One read “Self-Restraint,” the other “Solitary Vigilance.”

Most of the books on the shelves were travelogues and small personal journals. Gu Wanlan pulled one out and flipped through it; it was a collection of anecdotes about a scholar and his wife. Because the language was full of the flavor of daily life, it was popular among the common folk but looked down upon by literati. She hadn’t expected Cui Jue to not only buy it, but to have written notes in the margins with great interest.

Where the scholar took his wife to a hot spring: “Hot springs, feasible.”

Where the wife cooked for her husband: “Perhaps Wanlan would like this dish?”

Where the scholar painted his wife’s eyebrows: “Painting eyebrows, take note.”

Where the wife tailored clothes for the husband: “Why the need to measure? Shouldn’t one be the most familiar with it?”

As Gu Wanlan read, she burst into a sudden laugh.

Outside, Cui Jue was the head of the great families and a man of immense renown, yet he was surprisingly good at playing the role of a devoted little husband.

Gu Wanlan replaced the journal with a smile. As she turned, her foot accidentally brushed against a scroll-bin beneath the desk, and several scrolls were pulled out by the hem of her skirt.

She hurried to pick them up, but when her fingertips touched the silk ties of a scroll, for some reason, she felt bewitched. Her fingers moved, untying the knot.

Thump, thump, thump!

In the silent study where she was entirely alone, she could actually hear the accelerated beating of her own heart.

She licked her dry lips and unfurled the scroll.

Gu Wanlan’s pupils contracted violently.

The person in the painting was her.

And yet, it shouldn’t have been her!

The figure on the scroll was a female general, spear in hand, galloping across a battlefield! The long spear was stained with blood, but her eyes were as bright as the stars in the heavens. With one hand she controlled her mount, while the other held the spear high; behind her were ten thousand charging soldiers.

With just one look, even Gu Wanlan was easily swept up in the scene, her blood boiling as if she had returned to the slaughter of the battlefield.

But… why would he paint her in such an outfit?

Her heart beat faster and faster. Desperate to prove something, she hurriedly began to untie the remaining scrolls in the bin.

A long while later, Gu Wanlan stopped moving.

She sat slumped on the floor of the study amidst a sea of unfurled scrolls, panting heavily.

Every single scroll Cui Jue had painted was of her. Every stroke, every line, was filled with a burning love that could not be concealed.

Gu Wanlan slowly lowered her head, looking at the scroll currently spread before her. It depicted a dirty little girl who had broken into a carriage.

It was the scene of her very first meeting with Cui Jue.

But…

Gu Wanlan took a breath and looked again at the date inscribed on the painting—it was from the spring of five years ago. It predated her formal meeting with him by nearly a year.

She had thought that the origin of his feelings was a complex mix of guilt and self-reproach for their forced separation at Changping Pass, and the surprise and annoyance of meeting again in Xijing without being recognized.

Gu Wanlan closed her eyes tightly.

But… was it actually more than that?

At this moment, she suddenly wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to know what he had experienced and what he intended to do now.

Gu Wanlan surged up from the pile of paintings and ran out of the study.

She was going to find Tianxuan and have her investigate everything Cui Jue was unwilling to tell her. Since they were once “arch-rivals,” it would be perfectly understandable—even to Emperor Qingyuan—for her to investigate his background as a matter of common sense.