Chapter 37: Silent Longing

After Song Yu finished speaking, Cui Wangshu did not reply immediately. Instead, she took out a box from behind her and placed it on the table.

Cui Wangshu’s brows and eyes were cool and detached as she curved her lips. “Lord Song might as well take a look at this first.”

Song Yu looked puzzled as she picked up the box. It was very light, but there was something inside—likely land deeds or the like.

She opened the sandalwood box, and sure enough, it contained land deeds. Song Yu picked them up, her cold smile not yet forming before the familiar words on the deeds stopped her cold.

This was… the land deeds for Yongzhou?

Song Yu frowned and flipped through the deeds one by one. The disdain on her face was replaced by shock. She looked up at Cui Wangshu, opening her mouth, but the astonishment in her heart left her speechless.

Cui Wangshu maintained the same expression as before—cool brows and eyes, yet brimming with confidence, just like her demeanor in court.

“I wonder if these are what Lord Song desires?”

Song Yu furrowed her brows. “Did you shelter those widows, orphans, and the lonely?”

Cui Wangshu chuckled lightly, a gentleness hidden in her eyes. “Lord Song is surprised, aren’t you? Actually, it’s not just Yongzhou. I’ve been slowly doing the same in Huangzhou and other prefectures, though it’s only just starting there, so it’s not as developed as in Yongzhou.”

It would be false to say she wasn’t surprised. Four years ago, Yongzhou City suffered a once-in-a-century flood, followed by a plague that killed many, leaving behind numerous elderly with destroyed homes, children, and those with disabilities.

The government had intended to resettle them but was overwhelmed. Fortunately, a wealthy merchant had renovated a large estate in the eastern part of the city, partnering with Song Yu to provide shelter for the homeless without charging any fees. They even hired people to teach survival skills to those still capable.

This had resolved Song Yu’s urgent crisis. Later, when Yongzhou recovered, the eastern district retained those homes as a foothold for the destitute. Last year, under Song Yu’s lead, they built a street there with reduced rents, providing shops for livelihoods.

This was a brilliant stroke in her political achievements, praised by the people. Thus, Song Yu greatly admired this merchant and held her in respect, always wanting to meet her in person to express gratitude, but she was always refused on the grounds of not being in Yongzhou.

Who could have imagined that this selfless person, who taught others to fish, was none other than Cui Wangshu, the one stirring up storms in court?

Song Yu suddenly thought of something, her expression turning serious. “Lord Shangshu’s salary couldn’t possibly support those expenditures, could it?”

Understanding her concern, Cui Wangshu patiently explained, “Officials are forbidden from engaging in business, but I have people managing many industries for me. Lord Song’s clothing, food, housing, and transportation in the capital might all involve my handiwork. I have no need to embezzle, and I consider it shameful. Lord Song need not worry about the source of these funds.”

Song Yu was stunned, unaware of her capabilities. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say, her face stiff as she said dryly, “Why are you telling me this? To make me grateful and bend me to your will?”

Cui Wangshu looked at Song Yu earnestly. “It’s cooperation, Lord Song—and cooperation with me personally, not the Cui Family.”

“I’m saying this only to tell you that you and I share the same goal: to make the people of Great Zhao prosperous and safe. That’s all.”

Seeing that she had taken it in, Cui Wangshu softened her voice, coaxing, “Lord Song, if there’s a more effective way to improve the people’s lives, why not try it?”

Song Yu snapped awake, looking at the person before her, a sense of admiration and respect rising in her heart.

Cui Wangshu always saw through people’s hearts like fire, giving reasons impossible to refuse.

She didn’t crave wealth or power; she only wanted to serve the people steadfastly. But now, someone wasn’t luring her with money or prospects—instead, they were exploiting her eagerness to get things done.

They were tempting her into factional strife, so obstacles could be cleared faster, reforms pushed through, and the people benefit sooner.

Song Yu looked down at the chessboard. During their conversation, her black pieces had been firmly pinned down by the white ones, becoming prey on the board.

Unfortunately…

A firm resolve flashed in Song Yu’s eyes as she met Cui Wangshu’s gaze directly, her expression shocking. “Lord Shangshu, factional struggles have existed through the ages. Song Yu is incompetent and only wishes to serve Great Zhao, to consider the future of its youth. If everyone joins for power, wouldn’t that betray our forebears?”

“As my family precepts say: If one can loyally fulfill duties to the nation, stay if compatible, leave if not. Song Yu will never join factional strife. My heart is clear, my true feelings unchanged.”

Cui Wangshu gazed at Song Yu for a long time, regret flickering in her eyes, but more so admiration. She sighed almost imperceptibly. “Lord Song, Wangshu has offended you.”

Different paths, no common ground.

Cui Wangshu stood, bowing solemnly. “Lord Song’s words shame Wangshu. Different paths mean no collaboration, but mountains and rivers always meet again. In certain matters, Wangshu can still cooperate with you purely, unrelated to factions, only for the people.”

A faint smile appeared on Song Yu’s face. “Lord Shangshu, a lone minister may be abandoned but never compromise principles. Yet I understand that gentlemen judge by actions, not intentions. If one day we can work together for the people, Song Yu is willing to brave fire and water.”

Cui Wangshu lowered her eyes with a shallow smile, picking up a white piece and placing it in the chess box. In an instant, the black pieces tore an opening from the white’s encirclement and came alive again.

…

After leaving the Song Mansion, Cui Wangshu returned to the Shangshu Residence. Passing by the courtyard where Jiang Chenbi lived, she stepped inside.

Looking at the empty house, Cui Wangshu laughed at her own actions. The person wasn’t even there—what was she doing here?

Though she thought that, her feet seemed nailed in place, with no intention of leaving.

She sat at the vanity where Jiang Chenbi often sat, unconsciously leaning on the table and gazing at the scenery outside the window, mimicking her pose.

The osmanthus tree in the courtyard was blooming, its fragrance filling the air. Raising her eyes, she could see the pale yellow flowers and patches of blue sky through the sparse canopy.

A red ribbon hung on the osmanthus tree, placed there by Jiang Chenbi. She had said it would liven up the dull Shangshu Residence when the wind blew.

Cui Wangshu’s lips curved up as she walked into the courtyard and took down the red ribbon.

What brought life wasn’t the ribbon swaying in the wind—it was the person.

Lying on the chaise lounge Jiang Chenbi favored, Cui Wangshu thought, So this is the view from here.

The sky was framed by the square courtyard, drifting clouds close yet distant, birds chirping as they flew by—free and joyful.

Exhausted from travel without proper rest, as she lay there, Cui Wangshu fell asleep.

She seemed to see Jiang Chenbi return to the capital, complaining that she couldn’t sleep without her and demanding she stay to sleep together.

She was still so beautiful, even her feigned annoyance and furrowed brows full of vitality.

…

Dali Temple.

Ji Yunwei had dark circles under her eyes, her whole body listless as she slumped over the desk. She felt like she was about to die—three days without proper rest, and last night upon returning to the capital, she had interrogated Kang Li overnight.

But Kang Li hadn’t said a single useful thing. No matter how Ji Yunwei threatened or lured him, he refused to admit anything. Ji Yunwei even suspected if he was under gu poison—how else could he endure so much?

Ji Yunwei closed the file, fuming inwardly. In a bit, I’ll go torture him again. I don’t believe he can hold out!

Thinking of Cui Wangshu’s speculation, another idea struck Ji Yunwei. Since she couldn’t get anything out of him, let Lord Shangshu chat with him.

By the time Cui Wangshu arrived, it was already evening.

Ji Yunwei had rested a little in the afternoon. Though dark circles still lingered under her eyes, she looked much more spirited, especially with the strange excitement in her gaze.

Cui Wangshu gave Ji Yunwei a curious glance but said nothing.

Kang Li lay on the straw pile, his prison garb stained with blood, his entire form emaciated and haggard.

The sound of iron chains unlocking came from the direction of the door. Kang Li lacked even the strength to look, expecting the familiar violent dragging.

But a faint cold fragrance stood out sharply in the dank, moldy dungeon. Kang Li finally mustered the strength to turn and look.

As expected.

A figure in azure sat on the chair—like pine, like bamboo, cool and aloof.

“Is Lord Shangshu here to see if I’m dead yet?”

Cui Wangshu looked at Kang Li, examining his face closely for the first time. It wasn’t handsome—there was a long scar on his cheek—but it wasn’t ugly either, with faint traces of refinement and handsomeness in his brows and eyes.

Cui Wangshu narrowed her eyes at Kang Li, her tone icy. “No need for ghosts in your sleeve to fool me. I recognize you.”

Her lips hooked into a cold smile, enunciating each word: “Nan. Yuan. Li.”

The three words struck like hammers on his heart. Kang Li’s composed face froze upon hearing that familiar name, muscles twitching involuntarily, making his scarred face even more ferocious and sinister.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Kang Li’s tone grew agitated, his former calm shattered.

How did she know? He had erased all traces—even the face he loved most…

Kang Li glared viciously at Cui Wangshu, as if trying to bore a hole through her.

Cui Wangshu stood, walked to Kang Li’s side, and squatted down, looking down at him imperiously. Her words dripped with superiority: “If I want to know, no one has secrets.”

Indeed… She was the Cui Family’s political machine, the greatest star divination expert in Great Zhao. If she wanted to know, who could hide from her Divination Chip Technique?

Poisonous malice surged in Kang Li’s eyes. He lunged to bite Cui Wangshu’s ear—he’d drag this woman to hell even if he died!

Unbeknownst to him, his desperate move was sluggish in others’ eyes due to his heavy injuries.

Cui Wangshu frowned and tilted her head to dodge, then slapped him hard across the face, sending him crashing into the straw with blood trickling from his ear.

She swept him with a cold glance, as if looking at a stray dog. Kang Li took in her utter contempt, erupting into mad laughter.

Like a lunatic.

Completely different from his obsequious court demeanor.

Cui Wangshu stood, disgustedly pulling out a handkerchief to wipe her hand. “I have a hundred ways to make you wish for death. You’d best calm down.”

She took a vial from her sleeve, sneering, “This is from Yellow Path Palace. You should know what it is.”

Kang Li stared at Cui Wangshu, cursing, “You bastard! Just like your grandfather—insidious and cunning!”

Cui Wangshu narrowed her eyes and unhesitatingly stomped on his face, grinding heavily. Hearing his pig-like howls, she lifted her foot and said indifferently, “Sober now?”

Kang Li spat a mouthful of bloody saliva and laughed again, the sound shrill and piercing, utterly deranged.

“Sober? Hahaha… I’ve been mad for ages. Liu Zhang killed my love, ruined my life—this is what you Cui Wangshu owe me! What Great Zhao owes me!”

Cui Wangshu frowned. “Prince Jin colluded with foreign invaders, oppressed the people…”

Her words were cut off sharply: “Shut up! You know nothing. They twisted right and wrong. Great Zhao forced him—the dog emperor forced him!”

Kang Li curled up in the straw, eyes dazed, mechanically repeating, “They forced him.”

Cui Wangshu stepped back, staring thoughtfully at Kang Li’s mad state.

She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.