Chapter 542: There Is No One More Hateful Than You |
After Xuanchengzi left, Ruyi finally spoke.
Ruyi stroked Lihua’s back and said, “Uncle Chen is so kind to others. If it were me, I wouldn’t even meet that Daoist Priest.”
Chen Changsheng replied, “Daoist Priest Xuanchengzi is not like his junior brother. You shouldn’t hate him just because of his brother.”
Ruyi gave a light hum and said nothing more.
Holding Lihua close, she announced, “I must go to the Embroidery Workshop now. I won’t keep Uncle Chen company to argue today.”
Chen Changsheng asked in disbelief, “Since when are we arguing?”
“Whatever you say.”
Ruyi hummed twice before adding, “Lihua is coming along to play too.”
Chen Changsheng nodded and said, “Just don’t wander off.”
Chen Changsheng let out a sigh of relief and lay down on the long chair to rest.
It was noon, the perfect time for a nap.
But his mind drifted to people and events from many years ago.
After that incident at the execution ground, he hadn’t seen Chang Shan again. Probably he had gone to the Cultivation World—Chen Changsheng wondered how he was doing now.
And Tong Zhihuan with Tao’er? When he passed through Autumn Moon Market, Chen Changsheng didn’t find them. He had no idea where they might be.
He thought of other old friends, but one after another, all of them were now separated by life and death.
Many years had indeed passed.
Feeling troubled, Chen Changsheng stopped dwelling on it. He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
The noon sunlight streamed into the courtyard. Luckily, a small tree shaded Chen Changsheng from the light.
At some point, a woman entered the courtyard.
She watched the man on the long chair in silence for a long time.
Then she sat on a nearby stool, placed a pack of Preserved Fruit she was holding onto the table, and quietly waited for him to wake.
Only moments later, the Green-Robed Gentleman resting on the chair spoke.
“When did you arrive?”
Yun Xiang replied softly, “Just now.”
Chen Changsheng paused briefly. “Manager Liu gave me some fine tea earlier. Would you like a cup?”
After thinking, Yun Xiang said, “Yes, please.”
She turned her face slightly away, as if nervous about something.
Chen Changsheng got up to boil water and make tea. After pouring it, he handed her a cup.
In a voice tinged with hurt, she asked, “Since you returned… why didn’t you come to find me?”
Chen Changsheng answered, “At times, I wondered whether it was appropriate.”
Yun Xiang understood his thoughts perfectly.
She said, “Next time you return, Sir… please don’t hesitate. Yun Xiang has never forgotten you, and she never will.”
Chen Changsheng fell silent.
He asked, “Is there anything worth remembering about someone like me?”
Yun Xiang replied, “I explained it to you long ago.”
Chen Changsheng sighed inwardly and did not press further.
“Why do you keep hiding your face, Miss Yun?” he asked. “It seems as though you’re avoiding me.”
She bit her lip. “I’m not young anymore. Not good-looking anymore.”
Chen Changsheng said gently, “I am no rigid-minded man. Please do not avoid me.”
Clutching her sleeve tightly, Yun Xiang hesitated before finally looking straight at him.
Time had aged her profoundly.
Wrinkles marked the corners of her eyes, grey strands threaded through her once raven hair, and her skin had lost its youthful fairness.
Yun Xiang immediately turned her face away, regret flashing across her features.
Then she heard Chen Changsheng say,
“You’re good-looking.”
Yun Xiang froze. She turned back.
As their eyes met, tears welled in hers.
She took a shaky breath, wiping the tears away. “No need to cheer me up, Mr. Chen.”
Chen Changsheng answered, “The Miss Yun in my memory will always be that little Maid who knew nothing.”
Yun Xiang lowered her head. A flicker of a smile touched her lips before fading into sadness.
She had always felt such complexity inside, but in the past, she didn’t show it. Not like now.
People said with age comes steadiness. But Yun Xiang found herself growing ever more fragile—nothing like the girl she’d once been.
Collecting herself, she pushed the Preserved Fruit toward him. “I brought these for you, Sir.”
Chen Changsheng accepted it.
Then Yun Xiang stood up abruptly. “I feel unwell. I must go.”
Without a backward glance, she walked toward the gate.
Just as she reached the door, Chen Changsheng called out,
“The tea hasn’t been drunk yet.”
Yun Xiang froze. Tears spilled unbidden down her cheeks.
She turned around and rushed back to him.
Chen Changsheng saw her eyes shimmering with tears.
Yun Xiang leaned on his shoulder. She held Chen Changsheng tightly, her tears soaking into his clothes.
The sound of her quiet sobs filled the air.
Chen Changsheng sat stunned. Slowly, he raised a hand and gently patted her back.
He asked softly, “What caused these tears?”
Her voice trembled, broken by sobs. “Before… when I tried to leave… you never stopped me…”
In that moment, Chen Changsheng understood—something so simple, so ordinary, had meant everything.
Yun Xiang’s pain shook Chen Changsheng’s calm.
He truly had done her wrong.
Hearing her weeping, he sighed deeply. “I was wrong.”
Yun Xiang shook her head but remained silent.
For a long time, she wept against him, refusing to let go.
“The first day you returned, I knew. I wanted to come see you. But Hong Jin stopped me. She held me back. So I waited… I thought you might be tired. Maybe you’d come the next morning. I sat in the courtyard, waiting to hear you knock.”
“But you never came. Today. Tomorrow. Every day I waited. You once promised to make amends. How could you break that promise? Only a dozen years passed… did you really forget?”
“I didn’t forget,” Chen Changsheng soothed, patting her back. “But matters remain unresolved.”
“Liar!”
Yun Xiang hammered his chest with her fists, her pent-up pain from over a decade breaking free.
Chen Changsheng didn’t flinch. He looked down at the woman weeping freely in his arms.
Moments later, Yun Xiang buried her face in his shoulder and cried as she never had before.
It was as if every hurt and injustice of the past decades burst forth at once.
Gradually, her weeping eased.
She whispered, “Chen Changsheng.”
“I’m listening,” he answered.
“There is no one in the world more hateful than you.”
“Yes,” he said.
