The Night Before the Divorce, She Was Reborn to Before Her Marriage - Chapter 75

Ning Fu never expected the word “miss” to come from Murong’s mouth. For a moment, she was at a loss as to his intentions.

“Do you even know what it means to miss someone?” she asked after a moment of thought.

Murong stood motionless. Another silence followed. Reflecting on the answer himself made it feel somewhat unbelievable. After a long pause, he replied impassively, “I know.”

To miss someone represents affection; it represents falling.

However, he did not provide a specific answer to her question. Instead, he simply looked at her. Within those unfathomable eyes, one could faintly discern a complex swirl of emotions, as if he were deep in thought.

Ning Fu did not press him further. Longing and resentment were both lingering threads; if one’s thoughts were constantly occupied by another, there was bound to be some measure of affection involved.

“Are you missing me as a person, or are you missing my silver?” She broke the ambiguous atmosphere with a smile, her mind calculating his ultimate goal.

Murong watched her for a while. He showed no embarrassment at being labeled a lover of wealth, answering candidly, “Perhaps. It may not truly be you that I miss.”

Perhaps he was merely attracted by her beauty. With a beauty in one’s arms, it was difficult to remain unmoved—especially since she was his first woman.

Ning Fu remained silent.

Naturally, she did not believe for a second that a man thriving in a place like the Linglong Pavilion could possess true feelings. Moreover, she was now more convinced than ever that his identity was not simple; he was likely an informant planted in the Pavilion by someone else. Based on Meng Ze’s attitude toward him, the person backing Murong was likely one of the Sixth Prince’s own associates.

Ning Fu began to deliberate. It was impossible for Murong not to have recognized her as a woman earlier. Furthermore, having seen Meng Ze, he must have heard enough to guess that she was exactly who Meng Ze was looking for. Since he was now willing to hide her, only Zong Si shared that same alignment of interests with her.

“Is your patron from the Xuan Prince’s Manor?” Ning Fu asked tentatively.

Murong answered with a question of his own: “What makes you say that?”

“As we agreed, here is the one-thousand-tael banknote.” Ning Fu did not explain herself. Instead, she placed the banknote on the shelf beside the canopy bed. Since the task was done, she would not treat him unfairly.

Murong paced over to her side and glanced at the note. He folded it and tucked it back into her sleeve. “In the future, there is no need to give me money when you seek me out. Keep the silver for your own affairs.”

Ning Fu paused.

“However, you are not permitted to use it to keep other men,” Murong added.

His tone carried the effortless composure of a superior. That sense of familiarity caused Ning Fu’s heart to sink. She said with a beaming smile, “But other men are handsome, know how to please, and might even hold high office. In what way can you compare to them?”

This teasing was a deliberate jab at his pride, much like the words of those who favor the wealthy and despise the poor. Yet, for Ning Fu, it was a test of his identity.

“So, you truly have been blinded by another,” Murong remarked, looking at her.

Countered by his retort, Ning Fu momentarily lost her momentum.

Murong sat at the edge of her bed and continued, “As for holding high office—if I were to contend for it, I might not be inferior to anyone else.”

“You are a gentleman of the Linglong Pavilion,” Ning Fu countered. “Do you truly think you can become a high official?”

Murong replied with quiet confidence, “Even the late Emperor was a commoner before founding the dynasty. Your own forefathers were likely the first generation to carve out an estate. If one possesses talent and learning, the path to a career in officialdom is without worry.”

He spoke so candidly—valuing talent over background—that he clearly viewed the world from the perspective of an observer or, more accurately, a superior selecting capable generals. This only deepened her suspicion regarding his true identity.

Ning Fu smiled, her eyes rippling with light. “But no matter how hard you work, Master Murong, you can never compare to the Sixth Prince. You will always be a subject, while the Sixth Prince is…”

“Shall I go and call him back for you?” Murong said tonelessly.

No matter how little Ning Fu understood men, she knew he was currently displeased. Her smile widened. “If you are willing, Master Murong, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. However, since you work for the Xuan Prince’s Manor, I doubt you would be willing to hand me over. Then again… I suspect your role is not as simple as merely working for the Manor.”

This last sentence, though phrased as a test, was nearly an open confrontation.

“Change your clothes,” Murong said, having produced a set of women’s garments from somewhere. Before she could speak, he turned his back to her.

Ning Fu did not hesitate. Given the silk curtains on the bed, she quickly swapped her clothes and said, “It is done.”

Murong did not speak again. Instead, he draped his own heavy cloak over her. He intended to take her out himself. Just as Ning Fu was about to step down, he swept her up into a horizontal carry. Holding her steadily, he whispered a warning to stay hidden before walking toward the door.

Ning Fu had no choice but to bury her head inside the cloak.

Meng Ze watched as Murong approached. The woman in his arms looked incredibly petite, tucked away beneath the cloak so that he couldn’t see a thing. He could only see her hands clinging to Murong’s neck for balance. Those hands were as fair as scallion shoots, hinting at the beauty of the woman. The faint teeth marks and red welts on his arms told of the intensity of their recent encounter.

The scene made it look as though she had lost all strength after the act, finding Murong to be the only person in the world to rely on. This sense of dependence created an erotic tension that stirred a restless heat in Meng Ze’s gut.

Beneath the cloak, however, Ning Fu was not as Meng Ze imagined. She was neither asleep nor at peace. She was wondering: If Murong truly is Zong Si, then his secret flirting with me earlier was quite the bold display for such a reserved man.

And if he frequented the Linglong Pavilion, how much did he know? He might already have leads on Meng Yuan. No matter how much Meng Yuan pretended to be devoid of ambition, he still needed people to work for him, leaving traces behind. Zong Si was different from her; he was a central player in this power struggle. The inside information he possessed was far beyond her reach.

“The woman in your arms must be a rare beauty indeed,” Meng Ze said longingly. “I wonder where you found her.”

If the timing hadn’t been off, he would have guessed it was Ning Fu. But when he entered the room, Murong and the woman had clearly been at it for some time; it couldn’t have been the fourth Miss Ning. Moreover, if it were an act, there wouldn’t be actual bite marks on the wrist or scratches on the neck. Furthermore, his cousin was not the type to jeopardize his marriage prospects for a moment of lust.

“A newcomer just sent over,” Murong replied.

“The beauties by your side truly outshine one another,” Meng Ze remarked. He thought of Yue Niang; though he had many beauties, their quality could not compare to Murong’s.

“The Sixth Prince jokes. I have no women by my side,” Murong said, glancing at the person in his arms.

Ning Fu took this as a mere denial. If he truly had no women, Meng Ze wouldn’t have said that. It seemed he had quite a few, but kept them well-hidden. Neither in her past life nor this one had she ever noticed many women around him.

“Did Your Highness find the person?” Murong asked.

Meng Ze gave a cold laugh, his frustration unvented. “I found the one I was looking for, but I must have been mistaken. Up close, there was no resemblance at all.”

When he had found the person earlier, Meng Ze doubted his own eyes. Though the man was petite, he did not look like a woman at all.

“The factions within the Linglong Pavilion are complex,” Murong advised. “Your Highness should not tarry too long.” With that, he carried her away.

As they reached the exit, Meng Ze noticed Murong pull the cloak higher, seemingly unwilling to let anyone catch even a glimpse of her. It looked like the behavior of a man deeply enamored. Meng Ze chuckled; no man was truly a saint. It was just a matter of high standards. Confronted with a true beauty, any man would react. It was just that Zong Si maintained his public persona so well that everyone thought him a man of pure integrity.

Ning Fu’s clothing was thin, and the cloak offered little protection against the night air. As the cold wind hit her, she couldn’t help but shiver. Murong tightened his hold.

“Master,” a voice called out after fifteen minutes.

When Qu Yang saw Zong Si carrying Ning Fu, he said, “The Master is a noble guest. You have worked hard.”

Murong showed no sign of fatigue as he steadily carried her into the carriage. Qu Yang’s expression turned strange and searching.

Inside the carriage, Ning Fu caught a faint scent of sandalwood, which allowed her to relax. The small burning heater chased away the chill. Seeing that he remained silent, she didn’t dare peek out from the cloak.

Finally, Murong lifted a corner of the cloak and looked down at her. Her face was flushed from being muffled, and her eyes held a trace of panic before she quickly regained her composure. Ning Fu looked at his python-patterned mask.

She reached out toward the mask, but as her fingers touched the cold metal, she hesitated. Murong remained still, as if leaving the decision to her.

“Zong Si?” Ning Fu tested softly. This was one of the few times she had addressed him by name; usually, she called him “Heir Apparent” with polite formality.

“You have the wrong person,” the man said calmly.

“Not necessarily,” Ning Fu countered. Thinking back, no matter how much he disguised himself, that specific aura of his would inadvertently bleed through. She simply hadn’t connected the two before, but once the link was made, they seemed identical.

“On what basis do you judge?” Murong asked slowly, staring at her. “Is it because you think he would be so eager to get into bed with you and play this part? Or that he would definitely help you in such a dangerous situation?”

Ning Fu’s heart raced. She struggled to remain calm.

“If you take off my mask, won’t you know if it’s him?” Murong whispered, almost encouraging her.

Ning Fu’s mind raced. If she confirmed it was Zong Si, what then? Breaking this thin veil of pretense would bring her no benefit; instead, she would be constantly entangled with him. It was better if he remained Murong.

Ning Fu withdrew her hand and lowered her eyes. “I have misunderstood Master Murong. The Heir Apparent is a man of rules; he would never disgrace the Xuan Prince’s Manor by masquerading as a courtesan.”

Her words seemed to praise Zong Si, but if he was Zong Si, it was a subtle threat. Masquerading as a male entertainer, even for official business, was a scandal that could keep the capital gossiping for months.

Zong Si did not fear her threat, but since they were bound by shared interests, he respected her choice. Ning Fu had stated her position: to her, Murong was only Murong.

Murong looked at her for a moment, his gaze cooling, and spoke no more. Ning Fu quietly tidied her appearance so that no one at the manor would suspect anything. She wondered how Sister Wei was doing. The rest of the ride was filled with a stifling, uneasy silence.

When the carriage stopped at the Duke of Ning’s Manor, Ning Fu mentally prepared herself to face her mother. Murong leaned over to adjust her hair ornaments.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I have no intention of forcing you, and I respect your decision. I will wait for you to come to me of your own accord,” Murong said flatly. “Go back, bathe, and rest early. Your Sister Wei has already been sent back by the Xuan Prince’s men. Do not worry.”

Ning Fu’s heart sank; she was now certain of his identity. Now, she had to be wary of him using both persuasion and pressure.

She stepped off the carriage with a heavy heart. Back at the Bamboo Courtyard, Wei Ziyi and Madame Ning were drinking tea. Seeing her, Wei Ziyi stood up, her eyes red, but she forced herself to hold back her tears under Ning Fu’s warning gaze.

“You’re finally back,” Wei Ziyi said.

“Sister Fu kept me a while longer,” Ning Fu smiled. “We had some private things to discuss, so I had Sister Wei come back first.”

“It’s good that you’re back,” Madame Ning sighed. “But you’ve been seeing that Fu girl far too often. What noble lady spends all day with a merchant’s daughter?”

Madame Ning didn’t necessarily look down on merchants, but the social circles of Great Yan were rigid.

Ning Fu worried about her brother and Sister Fu. “Mother, much of the military funding for the North comes from the Fu family. Even the Emperor gives them face. Marrying into the Fu family wouldn’t be a loss.”

“The Fu men are quite handsome; have you taken a fancy to one?” Madame Ning asked suspiciously. “What is wrong with young Master Lu? Stop seeing the Fu girl for now.”

“Master Lu may have someone else in his heart,” Ning Fu replied. “Besides, Sister Fu invited me to Jingshan Restaurant in a few days. If I refuse, wouldn’t I offend her?”

“Then say you are busy and have your brother go in your stead,” Madame Ning commanded.

Ning Fu smiled. “Very well then.”

When Ning Zheng heard of this, he stammered, “I… I shouldn’t go.”

“If you don’t go, should your sister go alone?” Madame Ning insisted.

Ning Zheng had no choice but to take Ye Sheng with him.

At the restaurant, Fu Jiahui was busy. Hearing he had arrived, she came to greet them personally.

“What would the two masters like to eat?” she asked, smiling.

Ye Sheng looked at Ning Zheng, only to see his friend’s ears turning red. “You decide,” Ning Zheng said stiffly.

“I’ll decide?” Fu Jiahui said with a playful glint. “Master Ning, are you saying I can serve you… anything?”

It was a blatant tease. Ning Zheng, annoyed at being toyed with like a child, stonily ordered a few dishes. Once she left, she returned to sit opposite them.

“Miss Fu, we should keep our distance,” Ning Zheng said. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, but he knew the Duke’s manor wouldn’t accept her, and he didn’t want her to suffer the hardships of that gap in status.

Fu Jiahui laughed heartily. “Master Ning, you misunderstand. This is just how I treat my customers. Did you think I was trying to get close to you?”

Ning Zheng lapsed into silence. A manager whispered something in her ear, and she stood up. “A noble guest has arrived. Excuse me.”

A moment later, Zong Si walked in. Fu Jiahui attended to him with a warmth and enthusiasm far exceeding what she had shown Ning Zheng.

Ning Zheng felt a surge of bitterness. He downed a cup of strong liquor and shot a cold glare at Zong Si. If Zong Si has designs on her, they aren’t pure. He likely just wants the Fu family’s money.

Zong Si glanced at him once and looked away.

When paying the bill, Ning Zheng told her, “The people of the Xuan Prince’s Manor are all calculating. Even if he takes you as a concubine, it’s for the Fu family’s influence, not for you.”

Fu Jiahui blinked, then smiled meaningfully. “What he wants is naturally not me. But even if you dislike him, you’ll end up just like him eventually.” She added lightly, “Please leave, Master Ning.”

Ning Zheng stood there, heart aching with jealousy. Fu Jiahui watched him, feeling increasingly confident. She added, “If I do become the Heir Apparent’s concubine, I won’t forget to send you an invitation. People always aim for the heights, and compared to the Heir Apparent, you are…”

She didn’t finish, but the implication was clear: he was inferior to Zong Si.

By the time Ning Fu returned from Yongzhou, she had missed the capital’s summer. It was now late autumn, and the Mathematics and Arts examination was approaching.

While not her strongest suit, Ning Fu believed in diligence. She spent more time in the academy than usual.

“Sister Ning, I heard your brother’s matter with the sixth Miss Mu fell through?” a classmate asked.

Zong Ning, Zong Si’s sister, looked at Ning Fu and said, “Miss Mu’s heart belongs elsewhere, so she declined my third brother.”

“I wonder who will eventually end up with the Heir Apparent,” another girl mused.

Zong Ning went over to Ning Fu. “Sister Ning, do you know how to solve this problem?”

Ning Fu took the paper. It looked simple at first, but the calculations kept coming out wrong. She became engrossed in the puzzle. Zong Ning glanced at the door until she finally saw her brother.

Zong Si’s appearance caused many of the young ladies to blush. Even Rong Min, who liked Lu Xingzhi, felt flustered. Over the past six months, Zong Si had become more imposing, his sharpness hidden beneath a mature, restrained air that made people’s hearts race.

“Third Brother,” Zong Ning called.

Ning Fu looked up and locked eyes with him. He was in his official uniform, looking even more cold and aloof than usual. Having not confirmed his identity as Murong, she felt a strange lack of reality regarding their recent intimacy.

“Let’s go,” Zong Si said, withdrawing his gaze.

“Brother, Sister Ning is stuck on a problem. Can you help?” Zong Ning asked.

Zong Si walked over and sat beside Ning Fu. He took the brush from her hand and began the calculations.

“Is the Heir Apparent just returning from the palace?” Ning Fu asked politely.

“Yes,” Zong Si said quietly. “There is a polo match at the palace in a few days. Your brother is participating, though we aren’t on the same team. Who do you want to win?”

Ning Fu smiled. “It’s just a game. I would be happy for either of you.”

Zong Si didn’t believe her. After finishing the problem, he began to explain it. They were so close she could feel his breath. He was strikingly handsome up close, his skin flawless.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

Ning Fu hadn’t been listening. “Thank you, but this is quite difficult. I’ll find someone to help me back home.”

Zong Si thought of Lu Xingzhi. His expression cooled. “I will explain it one more time.”

Since they were in public, she didn’t refuse. Zong Ning was amazed; her brother was never this patient with her.

“I have questions too, Heir Apparent!” another girl chimed in.

Zong Si looked at Ning Fu as if gauging her reaction. Seeing none, he said, “I must return to the manor.”

“Go ahead and teach her,” Ning Fu said. “I’ll figure mine out.”

Zong Si paused, then took the other girl’s paper but did not move from his seat next to Ning Fu.

Ning Zheng arrived just then to pick up his sister. Seeing Zong Si, his eyes flashed with displeasure.

“Master Ning,” Zong Si greeted him.

“So it is the Heir Apparent,” Ning Zheng said sarcastically, thinking of Fu Jiahui.

Zong Si frowned slightly. Ning Fu, sensing the tension, stood up. “Heir Apparent, Sister Ning, I shall head back first.”

As Ning Zheng stood near Zong Si, he caught sight of the faint, ambiguous scratch marks on Zong Si’s neck. He immediately guessed where they came from. He felt furious on Fu Jiahui’s behalf, convinced Zong Si was a philanderer hiding behind a facade.

Without a word, Ning Zheng swung a fist at Zong Si’s face.