Chapter 128: The Heart of Cold Jade

Deep in the night, Shen Qingyun leaned against the window, lost in thought. Sometimes, when she recalled the events of her past life, it felt as though she had merely awakened from a long, strange dream.

She looked at her hands resting on the windowsill. The skin was fair and delicate, her fingers slender and well-formed, her nails glowing with a soft, pale-pink luster. Yet, in that past life, these same hands had been withered and chapped, the fingertips covered in chilblains and calluses, the backs scarred from the abuses of maids and matrons.

Those days of darkness and suffering were forever etched upon her heart.

Hanyu appeared suddenly before her, his voice low. "My Lady, the night is deep, and the wind is cold."

Startled, Shen Qingyun closed the window and turned to face him. "Speak. What is it?"

He would not have appeared unbidden unless he had something important to say. Yet, Hanyu only gazed at her for a long moment, remaining silent. Shen Qingyun frowned in confusion, her clear eyes rippling like the surface of a lake. She pressed her lips together, waiting quietly for him to speak.

A sharp, stinging pain pierced Hanyu’s heart. His expression was one of deep reverence, tinged with a hidden, lingering attachment. With both hands, he presented a bundle wrapped in cloth.

Shen Qingyun took it and unfolded the soft brocade to reveal a hairpin. The tail of the pin was carved with an auspicious cloud pattern, inlaid with a moonstone that possessed a soft, hazy radiance, emitting a faint, ghostly blue light. The craftsmanship was exquisite; it was clearly of great value.

"My Lady, this is a gift I wished to give you," Hanyu said, suppressing the bitterness in his heart. "I am leaving."

He had originally intended to give it to her on her coming-of-age ceremony, but Yicui had intercepted him then. If he did not give it to her now, he feared he would never have the chance again. To afford this pin, he had secretly taken on an assassination mission; though he had suffered minor injuries, the generous payment had made it worthwhile. Now that the pin was finally in her hands, his heart was filled with a bittersweet joy.

"Leaving? When?" Shen Qingyun asked, a hint of surprise in her voice, though she quickly regained her composure. She had anticipated this; the year-long tenure was nearly up.

"With your permission, tonight," Hanyu replied, scanning her features, memorizing her brow and eyes, desperate to imprint her image firmly into his mind.

"And Hanfeng?"

"He is with me, waiting outside. Does my Lady have any final instructions?"

Shen Qingyun looked at Hanyu. Compared to a year ago, his face was more stern, his stature taller, carrying an unspoken sense of pressure. His demeanor had grown steady and powerful. Clad in black night-garb, he was mostly shrouded in shadows, yet the light in his dark eyes always made her feel at ease.

She sighed inwardly and offered him a faint, gentle smile. She rose and went to her cabinet, opening the third drawer on the left to retrieve a box, then reached into the bottom-most compartment for something else before returning to Hanyu.

"Here. These are the deeds of indenture for you and Hanfeng. You may tear them up," she said, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

Hanyu’s expression was complex, his ears turning slightly red. He took the deeds but did not destroy them; instead, he folded them carefully and tucked them into the inner pocket of his tunic. Shen Qingyun then handed him a small box. Hanyu opened it to find, to his shock, fifty banknotes, each worth one hundred taels.

"I know that your and Hanfeng's identities are likely not simple. Beyond money, there is little else I can do to help. Accept it; whatever you intend to do, it is always better to have some silver on you." She added sincerely, "Hanyu, thank you for the hairpin. I like it very much. From now on, take care of yourself."

Hanyu turned abruptly, his back to her. He had so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask. *My Lady, what else can I do for you? When we meet again, may I call you Qingyun? What kind of man do you admire? Could you not marry so soon? My Lady, will you miss me? Will you ever...*

But he said none of it. A lump in his throat stifled every impulse. He knew he had no right to make promises to her, nor dared he hope that she would wait for him. Without another word, he left only the silhouette of his departing back before vanishing from her sight.

In the thick of the night, Hanyu looked back one last time at her chamber. His lashes trembled, a glimmer of tears in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by coldness and resolve. Hanfeng stood silently behind him. After so long, the turning point had finally arrived, and they could shed their disguises. "Master, let us go."

Hanyu nodded. From this moment on, Hanyu and Hanfeng would cease to exist. Their figures vanished into the night sky.

The next day, as Yicui combed Shen Qingyun’s hair, she noticed her weary expression. "My Lady, did you not sleep well last night?"

Zhenzhu, hearing this, came over with concern.

"It is nothing," Shen Qingyun said. As she picked up an accessory from her jewelry box, she noticed the jade whistle Hanyu had given her still hanging on her wrist. She carefully removed it and placed it in a hidden compartment of the box.

Looking at the whistle, she sighed almost imperceptibly. "I should tell you: Hanyu and Hanfeng have left. From now on, Hanqing and Hanshuang will take their places."

Yicui’s hands paused. "Left? Where did they go?"

"I do not know."

Zhenzhu, stunned by the sudden news, said indignantly, "But the year isn't even up yet! How inconsiderate of them to leave without a word." Despite their limited interaction, the news left her feeling a sense of loss.

Shen Qingyun smiled. "Hanyu came to tell me last night. It simply left me feeling a bit sentimental, which is why I slept late."

Zhenzhu sighed. "Well, I hope they stay safe and sound."

Yicui remained silent, her hands continuing their rhythmic movements until Shen Qingyun’s hair was neatly styled. After applying a light layer of powder, Yicui returned to her own room. She picked up a silk pouch she had been working on, finished the final stitches, and stared at it while sitting on her bed. Tears began to stream down her face. She had never managed to give it to him, to thank him for saving her life. Recalling Hanyu, she wiped her tears and shoved the pouch under her pillow.

Even if she had managed to give it to him, he likely wouldn't have accepted it. She had always known: Hanyu’s eyes held only the young mistress.

They had never held her.