Chapter 97: Jun Ci's Farewell - An Extra Story

For the first time, Shen Nanyuan saw Jun Ci with reddened eyes. His gaze was clouded, as if shrouded in mist, lost and desolate, a wandering soul, broken and worn. His eyes were pitch black, the last glimmer of light extinguished.

"Yuan Yuan..."

His voice was hoarse, his eyes bloodshot, a sense of bleakness and sorrow spreading through his body, pain and overwhelming regret flooding every limb until even breathing became difficult.

Reflected in his eyes was Shen Nanyuan’s calm, indifferent face.

He was powerless, drowning in despair: "Yuan Yuan..."

His Yuan Yuan.

She was supposed to belong to him, entirely.

—

"Young Master, after the execution today, the Duke of National Stability’s family was thrown into the mass grave. Miss Shen was your childhood companion; shall we give her a proper burial?"

The servant glanced nervously at Jun Ci, then lowered his head, anxious.

After a long silence, he finally heard Jun Ci’s raspy voice: "No. Now, those officials friendly with the Duke’s family are all living in fear, terrified of bringing disaster upon themselves. The Jun family cannot take that risk."

"Yes," the servant bowed even lower, "Young Master."

His heart was filled with helplessness.

The Duke’s family had conspired with foreign enemies to seize the throne—an offense punishable by the extermination of nine clans. It truly was unwise to step forward; a single misstep could bring calamity upon one's own house.

It was a pity about Miss Shen.

Since he began serving the young master, he often saw Miss Shen. She always came running with a bright smile, like warm sunlight in winter, her eyes sparkling, gentle even with the servants. They all liked her.

But the young master did not.

From the start, he saw Miss Shen as a sister. After meeting Miss Lin, his impatience with Miss Shen only grew.

In the end, Miss Shen died tragically.

She was only nineteen this year.

The servant felt a wave of regret and sorrow. He bowed slightly, preparing to leave, when suddenly the young master’s urgent voice called out.

"Wait."

He froze, then looked up, meeting the young master’s eyes, tinged faintly with red.

"At midnight, take a few men to the mass grave..."

Jun Ci’s throat tightened, his fingers unconsciously clenched. "Give General Shen, Madam Shen, and the others... a proper burial."

"Yes, Young Master."

The study was utterly silent.

"Brother Jun."

Jun Ci abruptly looked up, but before him was emptiness; nothing remained.

On the day of his grand wedding with Lin Yan, many guests arrived, and the entire Jun residence was filled with joy—a scene he had dreamed of countless times.

He drank heavily, guests congratulating him one after another, and he accepted every toast. In the end, he was dead drunk, assisted to his chambers by the servants. Lin Yan scolded them for letting him drink so much, but ultimately removed all formalities, settling him onto the bed to sleep.

Late in the night, Jun Ci awoke. Lin Yan’s steady breathing sounded by his ear, the room was dark, a faint fragrance lingering in the air. He sat up in a daze, donned his outer robe, and stepped outside. The servant waiting outside greeted him, bowing slightly: "Young Master."

The moonlight was bright, casting a silvery glow over the courtyard, a touch of desolation.

If only...

If only she were still here...

Jun Ci smiled faintly, bitterly.

If she were still here, today's wedding would not have taken place; who knew when he and Lin Yan could have wed.

"Brother Jun, the plum blossoms in your courtyard are so beautiful."

"Brother Jun, the weather’s cold—remember to dress warmly, or you’ll catch a chill. I was ill with a cold a few days ago; the medicine was so bitter, but I poured it in the pond and fed it to the fish."

"It’s snowing—the winter is so cold this year."

From now on, he would never hear these words again.

Never see her again.

Suddenly, snow began to fall in the courtyard, growing heavier, blanketing the ground in a thin layer.

"I love snow—it’s so beautiful. Each year, I look forward to it most. What about you, Brother Jun?"

Jun Ci stood alone beneath the eaves, gazing at the snowy courtyard. His heart felt as if pierced by countless needles, throbbing with pain.

This year, it snowed again, Shen Nanyuan.

"Where did you bury her?"

His voice was so low and hoarse it was barely audible. He clenched his fists tightly and, turning, caught the servant’s evasive gaze.

"In a grove, Young Master. The whole Shen family is buried there."

"Take me."

He suddenly longed to go, to see her.

"Young Master, it’s very late, and snowing. Perhaps wait a few days."

"Now. We leave now."

Jun Ci’s gaze sharpened, observing the servant’s anxiety. A wave of foreboding swept over him, chilling him to the core.

His tone grew heavier, unable to hide the agitation in his voice.

"Has something happened?"

The servant dropped to his knees, voice trembling with anxiety: "Young Master, when we went, we did not find the Shen family’s bodies. Your wedding was approaching... so we didn’t tell you."

The mass grave was heavy with death, devoid of any signs of life. They searched for a long time, but found nothing.

Once so illustrious, the Duke of National Stability’s family had vanished so completely that not even their bodies could be found.

It was as if struck by a blow, Jun Ci felt dizzy, his body swaying. In an instant, shock, panic, and countless indescribable emotions flooded him, leaving him silent and helpless, frozen where he stood.

After a long while, he croaked out hoarsely,

"Why couldn’t you find them?"

"I do not know, Young Master."

So now, he could not even see her one last time.

He had tried deliberately to forget, to cast Shen Nanyuan from his mind.

But instead, endless panic filled his heart.

In the half-year after his wedding, he never once mentioned Shen Nanyuan’s name. On the court, no one dared speak the Duke of National Stability’s title; everything about them became a taboo. Even Jun Ci believed he had forgotten.

The capital grew ever more prosperous; it was late spring, with all things revived.

It seemed no one remembered the general who defended their peace, the one hailed as the God of War. No one recalled how they had once been protected, nor remembered it was thanks to General Shen that the capital thrived as it did.

No one remembered.

"Candied hawthorns for sale! Everyone come try some!"

Jun Ci’s steps faltered, his head suddenly aching as if splitting apart.

A voice rang out, ethereal and clear: "Brother Jun, I want candied hawthorns."