Waiting for You for a Long Time, But You Haven't Arrived - Chapter 44

Things remain, but people have changed; seeing the objects brings back memories of the person. Her Ming Yishu will never return.

That strand of hair was found in a very hidden corner.

Before this, Jiang Qionghua pushed open that long-sealed door and saw many things she had never noticed before. Ming Yishu was a meticulous and sensitive girl; she would carefully store away all her belongings, especially those she liked, which she would hide away with extra care.

Previously, while she was still alive, Jiang Qionghua never inquired about the things in her room. Sometimes when she came to see her, she would find her playing the zither alone; sometimes she would be holding a brush, sketching something—perhaps writing, perhaps painting. Sometimes… Ming Yishu would personally wipe down some of the small objects she cherished. Throughout all those trivial, ordinary matters of the past, Jiang Qionghua had never stepped closer to take a detailed look.

Jiang Qionghua thought to herself that she had always prided herself on being her “elder,” yet she had never truly approached her. Throughout these years of companionship, she had always treated Ming Yishu with an arrogant attitude, never considering what the other thought, and too lazy to savor the subtle changes in her emotions.

She was base and selfish, assuming Ming Yishu would stay as she was forever, keeping her heart entirely and wholeheartedly on her for a lifetime.

Ming Yishu was too good to her, which fueled her wickedness; she truly owed Ming Yishu an apology.

She was sorry to the only girl in this world who loved her with genuine sincerity.

She was a bad person.

Jiang Qionghua’s shoulders slumped, and her stature seemed to shrink by several inches. Mournfully, she leaned against Ming Yishu’s zither table, her eyes filled with grief and desolation.

She regretted it. Back then, she always used harsh and heartless words to provoke Ming Yishu. It wasn’t that she didn’t realize the words were hurtful, but rather because she was a piece of trash—she was selfish and haughty, not considering Ming Yishu a truly important person, which is why she allowed herself to hurt her.

Her mood swings, her unbridled madness—all of it was predicated on Ming Yishu’s love.

She had squandered too much of the other’s sincerity. She did not deserve such a wonderful girl. Perhaps Heaven could no longer bear it, which is why it allowed Ming Yishu to accidentally ingest the crane-red poison, liberating her from this misery and calamity.

Jiang Qionghua thought dejectedly that she should have seen it clearly sooner. If only she had treated Ming Yishu well earlier; there were clearly so many times she could have almost reached out and held her hand. Instead of cherishing her, she entangled herself in old grudges and hatred. Out of a sliver of suspicion, she linked Tang Guangjun with Ming Yishu, using it to bully her, suspect her, and hurt her…

It was only now that Ming Yishu was gone that she seemed to wake from a long dream, completely casting aside the resentment from years ago.

But it was too late.

Everything was too late. Ming Yishu was gone; what use was all this repentance now?

Jiang Qionghua’s head throbbed as if it were splitting—not from irritation, but from excessive grief. The more she thought, the more she felt she was wrong; the more she thought, the more she felt she did not deserve to be human. The curses people hurled at her were right. Yes, Jiang Qionghua’s notoriety was not without cause; she had done many evil things, not just to others, but also to the one she loved.

In the past, she wouldn’t have felt even a spark of remorse amidst such curses; she even felt that these insults were a form of praise, for the louder and denser the cursing, the more it proved the greatness of her power.

She was arrogant to the extreme. Looking back from where she stood now—how ridiculous. Because of her malice, she had actually personally destroyed the person she loved most and betrayed the purity of those feelings.

Just like Chu Qing had said long ago—she would come to regret her arrogance and conceit.

She was right.

Jiang Qionghua numbly brushed the dust off the zither, her soul in agony, feeling as though she had fallen from a great height into a deep valley, overflowing with despair.

Her enemies were gone, and she was still the all-powerful Right Chancellor. There was no force left in the world to obstruct her, but… she did not feel a single shred of joy.

Because she could no longer obtain love. Looking around, everyone was fawning and flattering her; none of it was sincere, all of it was based on the pursuit and worship of power.

Jiang Qionghua suddenly felt that the mortal world was utterly uninteresting. She seemed to have lost the things she pursued; nothing could make her stir her heart to care again. The world was vast, the capital was bustling, and people swarmed beneath her feet, yet she felt the surroundings were incomparably cold.

What was the point?

What was the point of her living all alone like this?

Her family and kin were all dead, and her beloved Ming Yishu had passed away in resentment, never hearing the words she wanted to tell her until the moment she died.

What was there in her life worth being happy about?

Previously, Ming Yishu had asked her countless times, “Is there love?” and she had rejected and avoided it every time, as if those two words were laced with poison. Jiang Qionghua wished she could strangle her past self—why couldn’t she say what she clearly knew to be true? Was it that hard? Was it worth making excuses time and time again? What was even more ridiculous was that she clearly knew feelings had grown back then, yet she deliberately and maliciously told Ming Yishu “I don’t love you,” intentionally teasing her just to see that look of disappointment.

Ming Yishu was tragically beautiful when she was disappointed and weeping; she used to love watching it, observing her closely as the tears dampened her lashes and welled up from her eyes.

It was absolutely insane. Jiang Qionghua felt as though her head had been crushed by a speeding carriage—how could she have deliberately made things difficult for Ming Yishu, intentionally making her cry and then feel disappointed? Even if Ming Yishu cried beautifully, she should never have done that.

Ming Yishu was so obedient, her mind so delicate; she listened to her so well that she would take those words to heart as the truth.

Jiang Qionghua had been slow to understand this truth, and now that she had the time to reflect, she would never see Ming Yishu again.

No matter how bright the white moon outside was, it could not illuminate the dark and dilapidated interior of the hall. Jiang Qionghua’s gaze fell into the deep gloom; she seemed unable to see clearly. When Ming Yishu was here, this place was so bright and warm, but visiting it now, only darkness remained.

“Ming Yishu.”

“I have come to see you.”

“Auntie is here to tidy your room.”

Jiang Qionghua spoke softly to the darkness, wanting to organize Ming Yishu’s old belongings, as if doing so could compensate for half of her debt to her, or be counted as… repentance.

Ming Yishu’s bedchamber was very clean and tidy; everything was organized in a very orderly fashion. Jiang Qionghua knew Ming Yishu had organized this herself, never letting the servants touch it.

She came to a corner that had been well-kept. Here lay Ming Yishu’s favorite things, though she didn’t know if they were cherished jewelry or ornaments…

Jiang Qionghua leaned down, wiping the items Ming Yishu had treasured one by one. Every piece and every item was so familiar. She picked them up and put them down, moved them and then set them back, only to realize—these old items hand-sorted by Ming Yishu were all gifts she had bestowed.

They were all things she had given to Ming Yishu, and Ming Yishu hadn’t lost a single one.

Jiang Qionghua’s eyes suddenly stung again. She suppressed her emotions, checking and wiping each piece. In her ears, she seemed to hear Ming Yishu’s soft, gentle voice again.

That person was always by her side, gazing at her deeply, her eyes forever fixed upon her.

When she had asked why she still kept these useless things, Ming Yishu would show a faint smile and tell her with a gentle expression—”Auntie gave them to me; I can’t bear to throw them away.”

So Ming Yishu had cherished them like this all along? After so many years, not a single piece was missing or lost; they were always carefully and exquisitely hidden away by her. In those nights of light sleep and many dreams, would she quietly take them out and remember things… using that deeply affectionate gaze to look at the objects and miss the person for a long, long time?

A metallic taste of blood rose in Jiang Qionghua’s throat, and she coughed several times uncontrollably.

She didn’t dare think further. She could not endure the pain of losing her; every time she recalled her face and voice, it was nothing but agonizing torture.

Jiang Qionghua desperately suppressed her pain and continued to organize the mementos—though they were Ming Yishu’s old things, every single one was related to her. Anything she gave to Ming Yishu, regardless of size or value, would be meticulously preserved. A soft handkerchief she had used to wipe Ming Yishu’s sweat, a jade buckle she had discarded on a whim only for the other to catch it, a brush she had used while teaching her to write, even a few calligraphy pieces and paintings she had crumpled and thrown away… The paintings had been carefully smoothed out and pressed flat by Ming Yishu, treated with unprecedented seriousness.

Every single thing was a piece of her heart. Within these fragmented objects lay Ming Yishu’s hidden feelings; she had always placed her heart upon Jiang Qionghua. Her favorite things, her most precious treasures—every single one was connected to her.

Jiang Qionghua’s hand suddenly froze. She realized she had underestimated Ming Yishu’s love and care for her all these years.

Such love, such treasure, such pure emotion…

It had fallen upon her.

And she had failed to catch it.

Jiang Qionghua trembled uncontrollably, suddenly breaking into tears. She couldn’t help but recall: every time she suspected Ming Yishu, how much bitterness must the other have felt, unable to defend herself? Despite holding such deep affection, she could only keep it suppressed in her heart, always subjected to her harsh treatment and torment, yet unable to speak out.

How wronged Ming Yishu must have felt then, how powerless.

Not only that—not just the guilt and suspicion—Jiang Qionghua felt as if her body was being sliced by a blunt knife. She remembered many things, such as that time after waking from a dream when she had a few ambiguous thoughts of wanting to touch Ming Yishu, to destroy their relatively harmonious relationship. At the time, she thought Ming Yishu’s refusal was because she still saw her as a trusted elder and couldn’t accept such a sudden intimate affair.

It wasn’t that. Not at all. Ming Yishu had always liked her—not out of an orphan’s admiration for an elder, but out of pure love.

Jiang Qionghua understood it all. Ming Yishu’s refusal was because of her flippant actions; at that time, she only wanted Ming Yishu’s body, her eyes full of lust rather than love. Ming Yishu saw through it; she knew everything, and that is why she would not entrust herself so casually.

Thinking of this, what followed was an even heavier sense of hatred for herself—Ming Yishu’s feelings for her were precious to the extreme, not simply about obtaining her body. There was genuine heart in it. Under those circumstances, she would rather push her away and call her “Auntie” for a lifetime than give her a careless consent.

Therefore, how malicious were Jiang Qionghua’s actions? She had kept pushing her to lose heart time and time again until finally—Ming Yishu, filled with disappointment, shed all her clothes before her, allowing herself to be treated lightly and entangling her limbs with her.

Jiang Qionghua hated herself intensely. She breathed heavily, her heart feeling as though a sinful mountain of stone was placed upon it, weighing her down so much she couldn’t straighten her back or catch her breath.

For over a year, she had sealed away her longing and the old objects together. Those things she had deliberately tried to forget and guarded against had now returned all at once to haunt her, nearly driving her mad.

Every old object that met her eyes was like a blunt knife carving into her body and soul; every cut was painful, every cut was profound.

Ming Yishu…

Ming Yishu…

Ming Yishu…

Her Ming Yishu was dead and would never come back.

Jiang Qionghua had cried too many tears; her eyes were becoming unable to see clearly. She leaned against the chest beside her and slowly stood up.

Inside this chest seemed to be rolled-up paintings and calligraphy, likely created by Ming Yishu; they were not dusty and didn’t need wiping. Jiang Qionghua knew she shouldn’t keep looking, she should leave… but something seemed to be guiding her to look, telling her she should stay now, unroll those scrolls, and see what Ming Yishu had been painting during those sleepless nights over the years.

Opening the first one, it was a painting of a deity delivering a child. The location in the painting was a noble household in the capital; the pregnant lady had received a blessing from a divine official, and the birth of the child drew the blessings of the world.

The artwork was excellent, but there was one discordant part: a woman stood far off to the side, looking toward where the child was born, appearing like someone from outside the painting, completely out of place with the rest of the scene.

There was no candlelight in the hall, making it extremely difficult to see. Jiang Qionghua glanced over it briefly, saw nothing else, and turned to pick another one.

The second painting she picked up at random, the third, the fourth… they gradually began to become more realistic until the Chancellor’s Manor appeared in one. Jiang Qionghua was suddenly startled, finally realizing something. She abruptly took the painting and stood up, walking to the window to look closely by the moonlight.

The scene in the painting was the Chancellor’s Manor. Within the manor were two people: herself and Ming Yishu… but that wasn’t the most important part. The most terrifying thing was that Ming Yishu had actually painted her appearance from when she was young.

Jiang Qionghua stared for a long time, bringing the painting closer to read the inscription on the side word by word—and then, she gritted her teeth in unbearable pain.

This was a birthday celebration painting, celebrating her twentieth birthday. Ming Yishu had included herself in the painting, symbolizing being born to accompany her, staying with her year after year, as if the two of them had walked through the first half of her life hand-in-hand.

This was a celebratory painting for a twentieth birthday, then…

Jiang Qionghua hurriedly returned to the chest where the paintings were kept. She counted them and found there were thirty-three paintings. Ming Yishu had silently painted thirty-three birthday celebration paintings for her during the nights over these years, as if to complete the first half of her life before she had come to her side.

What kind of affection was this? To make Ming Yishu go to such lengths… Jiang Qionghua covered her face in mourning, remembering how she had always disliked Ming Yishu’s birthday gifts for not being formal enough, how she had looked down on the jade hairpins she carved…

She hadn’t expected that her true, unspeakable birthday gifts had always been hidden in this chest. Not only were they extremely formal, but they even made up for the birthday gifts for the years she hadn’t been by her side.

A full thirty-three years were stored here.

And she, Jiang Qionghua, had never known.

Jiang Qionghua closed her eyes heavily, thinking that in the year Ming Yishu died, she ultimately didn’t have time to finish the final painting. It was her constant harsh treatment that caused the other to lose hope, preventing her from completing the last birthday painting.

It was just as well that it wasn’t finished; she didn’t deserve to be painted with such treasure again. Such treatment—by what virtue or ability did she deserve it…

Jiang Qionghua’s eyes throbbed with waves of sharp pain. Her tears had run dry as she stared blankly at the empty hall.

Just then, she suddenly saw a rolled-up scroll painting still hanging on the wall—when did a painting appear there?

Jiang Qionghua remembered that there was originally supposed to be a fixed mountain-and-water wall vase there; why had it become a scroll? Somewhat surprised, she approached, and suddenly her foot stepped on something. She looked down; it seemed the wall vase hadn’t been secured properly and had fallen to the ground. The vase was hollow, and it had shattered into fragments upon hitting the floor. Perhaps the scroll had been hidden inside the wall vase all along, which is why no one had ever noticed it.

The scroll painting was fixed there by something on the wall. Jiang Qionghua, feeling a premonition, walked over and reached out to take it down. However, because the scroll had been left in this dilapidated place for so long, it wasn’t tied properly and suddenly unrolled. Jiang Qionghua was startled by the movement and took half a step back.

—On the painting was her, but Ming Yishu was no longer there.

In the thirty-fourth year’s birthday celebration painting, Ming Yishu was gone.

Jiang Qionghua thought she could never shed another tear, but the moment she saw this painting, a wave of grief rose again immediately.

The inscription on this final birthday painting was very simple.

Looking at it by the moonlight, it was written—

“Great is the kindness, deep is the love; I humbly pray you stay well.”

“With you, a parting of life and death.”

In an instant, Jiang Qionghua felt as if her skull had been split open by an axe. The intense pain made her instantly fall to her knees, agonized beyond measure. Multiple shadows appeared before her eyes, as if she were seeing countless souls flickering; amidst the ghost-like shadows, she felt she was about to go mad.

So, this is what it feels like to go insane—

She took a blade from her sleeve and slashed it across her forearm. Instantly, blood flowed from the arm like a stream. The physical pain momentarily brought her back to her senses, suppressing the hallucinations before her eyes.

Her spirit returned, and a massive wave of suffering poured over her head. Jiang Qionghua could not feel the pain of the wound; like Ming Yishu when she had gone mad, she covered her ears with both hands and let out a mournful, blood-curdling cry of grief.

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