Chapter 14: She Could Feel His Sorrow

“I want this dress.” A woman, dressed elegantly and strikingly, placed a stack of silver notes on the table.

“I want it too.” Another woman snatched the design sketch and tossed down a gold ingot. “I want it, it’s mine.” “Mine, mine!”

The shop owner panicked, “Everyone, please don’t fight. There’s enough for everyone.” Her heart was nearly torn apart; that design was precious, and she prayed it wouldn’t get torn.

“Shopkeeper, all these fabrics—I can help you design styles, and then you can have them made. Would you be willing to cooperate with me?” She grabbed the shopkeeper, who was about to dive into the crowd to stop the scramble, and asked.

The shopkeeper beamed, “Willing, willing.”

“Take my sketches to your master. I only discuss cooperation matters with your master.”

This was an exceptionally luxurious room, adorned with majestic landscape folding screens, polished wooden floors, exquisite redwood beams, rare plants, and antiques, all exuding an ancient, refined beauty.

Yun Qiange had just settled onto a stool when a servant brought her fruit and tea. She didn’t refuse and started cracking melon seeds, waiting for her legendary mysterious husband to make his entrance. Thinking of Wan Qi Haoyu’s appearance, her husbands should all be handsome, right?

Someone like Pan An, graceful and dashing, handsome and charming. As she cracked seeds, endlessly fantasizing, a pair of black boots appeared in her sight. Looking upward, she saw a pure white noble flowing robe. Higher still, a jade pendant of translucent emerald hung at the waist, clearly a priceless treasure. Not bad, not bad. Yun Qiange evaluated with delight: a wealthy man plus a handsome face, and one with taste at that. Looking further up, she saw slender, fair fingers twirling a golden fan. Even the collar and jade belt were studded with sparkling gems. And then…

“Cough, cough…” Forgive her; she choked on her melon seeds.

“Water… water…” She reached out, groped for the teacup, took two big gulps, and coughed violently before feeling better.

“Miss, are you feeling better?” Murong Xi sat across from Yun Qiange, waving a golden fan. Though his face showed concern and polite words, Yun Qiange could detect no genuine care.

She had imagined her husband to be stunningly handsome, a man whose charm could shake gods and mortals alike. But who was this man before her, his face severely scarred by burns? The scars were old, crusted over, large patches of red, eerie to behold.

Clearing her throat, Yun Qiange asked uncertainly, “Are you Murong Xi?”

“That’s me.” Murong Xi’s expression did not change as he smiled calmly.

Yet the more he smiled, the more monstrous the scars appeared, and he smiled so brightly and confidently.

Suddenly, her heart ached. She seemed to see herself—also disfigured, also smiling brightly, unconcerned with others’ gazes. But was she not sad inside?

Very sad indeed. Once she was a favored daughter of heaven, proud of her beauty, figure, and talents—none of which could be missing. Now, though her disfigurement hadn’t taken her life, it had broken her heart. Was he as sorrowful as she was?

“My purpose, I’m sure your people have explained to you. We can collaborate on a project together.” Yun Qiange forced herself to focus, shifting the conversation to business.