Recklessly Breaking a Delicate Branch - Chapter 48

“How was I to know? When I made him stand up and questioned him, he simply said my eyes and brows looked remarkably like the Madam of this manor, and these thin lips of mine resembled the Marquis. It was a reflexive reaction; that’s why he knelt to me.”

As he spoke, a flash of dimness crossed Zhou Yan’s eyes before he quickly tucked it away.

Jiang Wanshu was deeply perplexed by this.

She had once caught a glimpse of the Marchioness and the Marquis, and she truly couldn’t see any resemblance between them and Zhou Yan.

Yet this servant felt Zhou Yan looked like the masters of the house. Suddenly, the image of Zhou Shu’an flashed through Jiang Wanshu’s mind, followed by the memory of a man she had accidentally glimpsed in the past. She shuddered involuntarily.

Impossible!

She had never heard of the Marquis and his wife having a biological son lost in the outside world.

But thinking carefully, there was a resemblance between Zhou Shu’an’s features and Zhou Yan’s.

She could see the fading light in Zhou Yan’s eyes; she realized that, in truth, he wasn’t as indifferent to the matter of his birth parents as he let on.

She wanted to speak up, but feared being reckless and giving him false hope for nothing. She followed his lead, saying, “Perhaps it really is as that servant said.”

At the mention of this, Zhou Yan grew irritable and set down his chopsticks. “Of course. The Zhou family has such a grand estate; is it even possible they’d have a biological son wandering out there?”

As he spoke, a look of disdain flickered in his eyes. He said no more, lowering his head to shovel rice into his mouth.

Jiang Wanshu lowered her eyes, her heart feeling as heavy as a stone.

Ever since Zhou Yan forced her to bring him back to the palace, he had become much more childish toward her than before.

During this meal, no matter who it was, conversation died out.

When the sun finally dipped below the peaks and the ink-black night stained the earth, another night quietly arrived.

This night, Jiang Wanshu found herself completely unable to sleep.

She didn’t know if it was nervousness about entering the palace tomorrow, or because of Zhou Yan’s casual remark about a “lost biological son.”

Either way, unable to rest, she picked up the exquisite pipa gifted to her by Zhou Shu’an and began to play at her bedroom door.

Following her memory, she played a “Song of Remembering Home,” which was immediately answered by the sound of a longsword dancing in the neighboring courtyard.

Tonight, Zhou Shu’an seemed drunk again.

His clothes swayed with his movements, his tall figure dancing with the sword. When the pipa reached its crescendo, the long sword slashed down through the empty air.

Of the Six Gentlemanly Arts, he was still exceptionally skilled.

Where the sword pointed, leaves fell to the cold ground. Afterward, as the final notes of the pipa drifted into the courtyard, Zhou Shu’an ceased all movement, staring blankly at the fallen leaves before him.

He really seemed drunk again; the sword dance had flushed his pale face red.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping onto the ground.

Once the pipa music had completely faded, Zhou Shu’an finally sheathed his sword. He picked up a flask of wine from beneath a tree and tilted his head back to drink.

He usually only drank a few times a year. This year’s quota seemed to have been exhausted over these past few days.

Having drained the flask, Zhou Shu’an, his complexion looking off, entered his bedroom.

The night was deep, and mist swirled to hide the bright moon. Meanwhile, in the other bedroom, Zhou Yan was tossing and turning restlessly on the bed.

Actually, the night wasn’t that late—it was just the usual time ordinary families went to sleep.

Zhou Yan hugged the brocade quilt, rolling back and forth, feeling that something wasn’t right. He sat up and bolted toward Jiang Wanshu’s room.

The moment he leaped out of his window, Zhou Yan felt the constraints on his body loosen. He raised his brows and smiled; it turned out he had simply grown unaccustomed to sleeping alone. By the time he reached Jiang Wanshu’s side, he felt significantly lighter.

Taking advantage of the midnight hour when no one was around, Zhou Yan quietly slipped into Jiang Wanshu’s courtyard.

Jiang Wanshu was afraid of the dark. Unless he was by her side, she would always light a candle before sleeping. Thus, he found it strange.

By this hour, she would usually have been asleep long ago.

Zhou Yan walked to the wide-open window of the bedroom. Hearing no movement inside and assuming she was asleep, he stepped lightly over the sill.

To his surprise, the moment his feet hit the floor, Jiang Wanshu walked straight toward him.

In that instant, the air suddenly grew still.

Jiang Wanshu wore an unreadable smile as she looked up at the man. “Zhou Yan, didn’t I tell you not to come over?”

Zhou Yan’s limbs felt as though they were tying themselves in knots; he even forgot to pull away when her hand brushed his arm.

How embarrassing!

Zhou Yan gave an awkward laugh, reclaimed his dignity, and promptly pulled her into his arms.

That familiar sensation returned. Ultimately, this man was coarse, overbearing, and in certain situations, incredibly childish.

Jiang Wanshu didn’t struggle this time, her petite body enveloped in his embrace.

Zhou Yan said bluntly, “I only came to find my A-Jia to sleep. What’s wrong with that?”

Though his words sounded playful, his expression was quite serious.

To avoid a midnight argument with Zhou Yan, Jiang Wanshu didn’t say anything more.

After all, they had shared a bed for so long and had done even more intimate things; she had long since grown used to it.

As long as he was like he was this morning—able to sense when someone was coming and hide himself—it was fine.

Instead, Zhou Yan became talkative, scooping Jiang Wanshu up and heading for the bed.

The sudden weightlessness made Jiang Wanshu let out a startled cry. Once a man behaved like this toward her, especially on a bed, her eyes widened in alarm.

She was placed on the bed. As the man approached, she propped herself up and scrambled toward the inner side of the bed.

She cried out in panic, trying to wake the man before her: “Don’t come any closer! You remember what you promised me!”

“Isn’t it that I only get to do it with you once every ten days? I understand. Relax, I’m just doing this because I want to go to sleep early.”

Jiang Wanshu was skeptical, pulling up the brocade quilt to cover herself.

She looked at him timidly. “Really?”

Her clever, wary look almost made Zhou Yan laugh.

Look at her—she was just bristling like a wildcat, and now she was terrified of him.

He leaned in, forcefully pulled the quilt from the girl’s hands, spread his arms, and grabbed Jiang Wanshu by the shoulders. Using half his strength, he pushed her down onto the bed.

Then, he used his free hand to pull the quilt over both of them again.

“Sleep,” Zhou Yan said, his tone brook no argument.

Jiang Wanshu now knew that Zhou Yan wouldn’t force anything. Not wanting her resistance to attract outsiders later, she stopped struggling and leaned against the man’s shoulder, about to close her eyes.

Suddenly, in that very instant, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

The candle was lit in the bedroom, so Zhou Shu’an sensed that Jiang Wanshu wasn’t asleep.

Without a second thought, he walked to her door. He raised his hand and rapped on the door with his knuckles, appearing to find the task quite interesting; if she didn’t open the door, he would simply keep knocking.

It wasn’t until the door opened and Jiang Wanshu stood before him, her clothes neat and tidy, that a smile finally touched the corners of his mouth. His eyes were glazed and drunken. “Wanwan, you came out.”

“Yes.” This was a nickname he hadn’t called her in a very long time.

Jiang Wanshu answered subconsciously, but then she snapped back to reality.

Zhou Shu’an’s hand was already on her shoulder, intending to push her back into the room, but she pushed him back instead.

The wind swept past her waist and blew backward. Jiang Wanshu smelled the heavy scent of alcohol on Zhou Shu’an and frowned.

She disliked men who showed up reeking of booze, but because this was Zhou Shu’an, she could still tolerate it.

Zhou Yan was still inside, so she had to lead him outside to talk. But now, Zhou Shu’an seemed to have no such intention.

He looked drunk as he gripped her shoulder and tried to step over the threshold.

Jiang Wanshu quickly pulled his hand off her shoulder and pushed him outward.

“Brother Zhou, it’s late. If there’s anything to say, we can say it here.” Jiang Wanshu looked up at him. Sensing the alcohol on him, a flash of unease in her eyes was caught by the man.

Tonight’s darkness seemed particularly heavy. Clouds had long since obscured the moon and stars; the pitch-black night was like something swallowed by a beast, devoid of any light.

Zhou Shu’an’s face was flushed red; there was no doubt he was far too drunk.

His hand wasn’t pushed off her thin shoulder, but Zhou Shu’an did follow her lead and backed away from the door.

Jiang Wanshu frowned and tried again to pry the man’s hand away. She grabbed his hand resting on her right shoulder, but unexpectedly, Zhou Shu’an flipped his hand and gripped hers. “Wanwan, do you really loathe me that much?”

Because of the alcohol, Zhou Shu’an’s grip was clumsy and heavy, hurting the hand he held in his palm.

The sound of a man’s footsteps came from inside the bedroom, getting closer and closer. Jiang Wanshu focused on the footsteps inside and, in a sudden burst of strength, pushed Zhou Shu’an away.

“Brother Zhou, what was between us is already in the past.” Knowing Zhou Yan was angry, Jiang Wanshu hurried to push the man away.

A moment later, the sounds inside went completely silent, and Jiang Wanshu breathed a sigh of relief.

But before she could even catch her breath, Zhou Shu’an let out a cold laugh.

His eyes, usually gentle, were fixed on her. “Heh, indeed. I was the one who pushed you away with my own hands.”

“These things weren’t something you or I could have predicted.” Jiang Wanshu knew what he was talking about.

Zhou Shu’an seemed to remember something else, and a look of tension crossed his face. “But in the end, it was because of me. If I were truly a gentleman, I should have defied the decree and begged His Majesty to change the imperial order.”

“Brother Zhou, you cannot sway Father’s decisions. Besides, I went to plead with Father myself; it was only then that he painfully issued that decree.”

Jiang Wanshu had moved past most of the events of the past. Now, speaking of it in front of Zhou Shu’an, her calmness outweighed her regret.

It was true; someone who prioritized family like him might be fine marrying a daughter of the minor nobility, but marrying a princess meant taking a political stand. Once the core interests of his family were involved, his nature would inevitably lead him to abandon her.

This kind of person might be a good friend, but would never be suitable as a husband.

Hearing this, Zhou Shu’an’s footsteps became unsteady, and he mocked himself. “Then it was also my lack of action. Perhaps I should have stepped forward when the steppe people entered the palace and requested your hand at the banquet. I shouldn’t have hidden away from that day on, only to regret it once your marriage convoy was lost on the journey. Too little, too late.”

Zhou Shu’an was confessing his sins bit by bit, as if doing so could lighten his sense of guilt.

“But if it weren’t for Brother Zhou, it might be difficult for me to return to the court today.” To outsiders, the sudden appearance of a deceased princess would easily cause a panic.

Jiang Wanshu comforted the man, hoping to end the conversation quickly; otherwise, that fellow Zhou Yan wouldn’t be able to stop himself from coming out.

But he stepped forward, grabbing the corner of Jiang Wanshu’s sleeve, his expression agitated. “Then, by saying that, Wanwan doesn’t blame me?”

He smiled, thinking that perhaps Jiang Wanshu had forgiven him.

Jiang Wanshu shook her head and pulled her hand away again. “I don’t blame you, nor should I.”

This was her affair. It was a blessing if someone was willing to save her; if not, that was simply the way of the world.

After all, regarding the diplomatic marriage, even if her father was unwilling, she had to make a sacrifice for it.

A Princess is supported by the thousands; by her own strength, stopping the Steppe King from breaking the ancestral alliance—which would have led to widespread suffering—was part of a princess’s responsibility. It wasn’t something to blame others for.

“Since you went missing during the marriage journey, His Majesty was also furious, demanding to see you—dead or alive. His attitude toward the Steppe Court became aggressive. Now the alliance is still stalled. I fear that when you return to the palace, you will have to continue this marriage business between the Steppe and the Central Plains.”

In his drunken state, Zhou Shu’an poured out the thoughts of his heart.

However, Jiang Wanshu didn’t seem to care about this. Thinking of her father and mother, her eyes filled with tenderness.

“Father and Mother won’t give me up again. The feeling of finding something lost isn’t something everyone can understand. After this incident, I think even if I knelt for a hundred days, they wouldn’t agree to it again.”

Even if her parents loved her brother more, they still loved her. She had her own judgment.

No one could say for sure what would happen regarding the “marriage” afterward; everything would have to wait until she entered the palace to see how things stood.

Upon hearing Jiang Wanshu’s words, Zhou Shu’an’s expression instantly brightened. “If that’s the case, can I pursue you again?”

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