Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 177: Missing

   With the scissors plunged into her heart and so much blood having flowed, anyone with eyes could see at a glance that Ming Yu was already beyond saving.

Wei Yingluo knew it too, but she refused to believe it.

Everyone is the same—they refuse to accept that a loved one or family member has simply left them forever. They torment the doctors, torment themselves, until finally they break down and burst into sobs.

“Guard Soulun, what are you doing?!”

“Quick—stop him!”

“Don’t let him disturb Her Ladyship!”

The eunuchs grabbed his arms, others clutched his legs. Hailancha’s eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted in fury, the veins near his temples bulging violently—no one dared let such a man get close to Consort Ling.

“Soulun guard, my mistress has ordered that she will see no one!” Xiaoquanzi cried while clinging to his leg. “Barging in like this is making things difficult for us servants!”

“Get out of my way!” Hailancha’s mind had already been scorched by the dreadful news. He kicked the man aside and lunged toward the bedroom doors. “Consort Ling, come out! I have something to ask you!”

The doors remained tightly shut; no one answered. Just as Hailancha was about to force his way in, Chenbi arrived from outside with her attendants. Seeing the scene, her expression immediately darkened:

“Consort Ling is overwhelmed with grief and does not wish to see anyone. If you have something to say, you can say it to me.”

“I only want to ask her one thing…” Hailancha stared fixedly at the closed doors. “Why did Ming Yu die?”

Chenbi sighed:

“When we reached Ming Yu’s room, she had already taken her own life. She left no message behind.”

That explanation was worse than none at all. Hailancha broke free of the others, threw himself against the door, and pounded on it:

“Consort Ling! Ming Yu was your closest friend, your most trusted confidante. Is this all you have to say about her death? Come out!”

His commotion was so great that it finally alerted Hongli.

With a single command from Hongli, guards rushed into Yanxi Palace and dragged Hailancha back to Yangxin Hall in restraints.

“Hailancha, you are truly outrageous!” Hongli glared at him furiously. “Who gave you permission to cause such a disturbance in Yanxi Palace and frighten Consort Ling?”

Hailancha knelt on the ground, head bowed, stubbornly refusing to offer a single word of explanation.

Under normal circumstances, he would have been severely reprimanded, but today, considering the pain of losing his beloved, Hongli chose not to press the matter. His gaze shifted to Ye Tianshi, who was kneeling on the other side.

Unbidden, the face of Chenbi rose in his mind—along with the words she had spoken to him that very morning:

“Your Majesty, regarding Ming Yu… I have something to report…”

“Ye Tianshi,” Hongli said coldly. “Speak.”

Ye Tianshi had already been kneeling for some time. He sighed and answered honestly:

“The young lady once came to see this humble servant. I diagnosed that the silver needle had already pierced her heart and lungs—there was no medicine that could save her. Ming Yu instructed me not to tell anyone. I never expected she would… take her own life—”

Halfway through the explanation, Hailancha could bear no more. He lunged forward, seized the other man by the collar, and roared:

“She told you not to say anything, so you said nothing at all?!”

Another chaotic scuffle erupted. Hongli shouted sternly to stop it; Li Yu stepped forward to intervene and finally pulled Hailancha away. After taking several deep breaths, Hailancha suddenly choked with sobs:

“It’s my fault… all my fault. She didn’t say anything, and I didn’t ask…”

A man may shed blood but not tears—unless the pain reaches the heart. After Hailancha was escorted away, Ye Tianshi asked in a low voice:

“Your Majesty, regarding Consort Ling…”

“There is no need to tell her,” Hongli replied.

Ye Tianshi felt uneasy. At first he had believed that keeping a patient’s confidence was only right and proper. But after witnessing Hailancha’s misery, regret began to creep in. He even wondered whether, if he had told Hailancha earlier—or told Wei Yingluo—Ming Yu might have met a different fate.

After hesitating for a moment, he said:

“Your Majesty, this servant committed a grave error by withholding information. To continue concealing it from Consort Ling now would be…”

“There is no need to make extra trouble,” Hongli said, gazing in the direction of Yanxi Palace, his expression complicated. “She didn’t understand before, but now she should have figured it out.”

Yet some things in this world, even when one can reason them out, are still impossible to accept in the moment.

Ding-ling, ding-ling, ding-ling…

Inside Baoyue Tower, soft songs and graceful dances filled the air.

Skirts swirled through the air, tiny bells chimed crisply. Chenbi danced with joy, bending backward in a perfect arc that outshone all others, her smile bewitching, enchanting—and utterly innocent.

“Lady.” Yizhu came to her side and spoke cautiously, “We just received news… Consort Ling has gone missing.”

The dance steps halted. Chenbi turned her head. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know.” Yizhu shook her head. “His Majesty just sent people to look for her, but she wasn’t in the palace. Now the whole of Yanxi Palace is going mad searching for her.”

Chenbi let out a soft laugh. “I see… Bring me my shoes.”

The sound of her anklet bells rang out like a melody from a foreign tune, drifting from Baoyue Tower all the way to the palace gate. Chenbi waited for a long time until she finally spotted the person she was looking for. Smiling, she called out, “Lord Fucha!”

Fuheng had entered the palace on official business and was now finished, about to leave. Seeing her again, he couldn’t help but frown.

Chenbi hurried over, her voice carrying a note of urgency. “Yingluo has disappeared!”

She quickly recounted the tragedy that had occurred in Yanxi Palace, then sighed. “She blames herself deeply for Ming Yu’s death. I’m really afraid something might happen to her.”

Fuheng was silent for a moment before replying, still maintaining his distance, “Consort Rong, I am merely an outer-court official. I cannot interfere in inner-palace affairs. My apologies.”

He gave a courteous bow and stepped forward, about to pass through the palace gate, when he suddenly turned to look back.

Behind him was empty air. Chenbi had disappeared at some point without a trace.

Fuheng hesitated for a moment, then gritted his teeth and turned back toward the direction of the inner palace.

Changchun Palace, now without its mistress, was always filled with falling leaves and an overwhelming sense of desolation. Over time, aside from the occasional birds and sparrows, no one came anymore.

Today, however, was unusual. From within the empty palace came the sound of sweeping—slow, steady strokes, one after another.

“You really are here.”

The broom paused for a second, then resumed its motion.

Fuheng stepped in from outside and spoke to the person across from him. “You are no longer the little palace maid of Changchun Palace back then. You are Consort Ling now. If people find out you’re here sweeping the floors, what will they think?”

With that, he reached out abruptly, snatched the broom from her hand, and tossed it aside.

Wei Yingluo glanced at him blankly, showing neither resistance nor anger. Suddenly she knelt down on the ground. Beside her was a bucket of water with a cleaning rag draped over the rim. She deftly wet the rag, wrung it out, and began wiping the floor—just as if she were still that little palace maid of Changchun Palace.

Fuheng said sternly, “Wei Yingluo! The late Empress is gone. Ming Yu is gone. Of all the people who used to be together, you’re the only one left. So what? You are Wei Yingluo. Even without them, you can stand on your own!”

Wei Yingluo could not get up. She remained kneeling on the ground, wiping the floor without pause.

“Enough!” Fuheng dropped to one knee in front of her and placed both hands firmly on her shoulders, trying to shake her awake. “This is not your fault. Even if she hadn’t taken her own life, she wouldn’t have lived much longer. Didn’t the imperial physicians already say so? The needle pierced her lungs—there was no cure!”

“No… it is my fault.” Wei Yingluo closed her eyes, tears falling as she spoke. “Because of my selfishness…”

Fuheng: “What selfishness?”

“The Empress once said that in the future she would personally see me off in marriage. Unfortunately, she never got to see it.” Wei Yingluo’s eyes were blurred with tears. “I wanted Ming Yu to marry, to wear that bright red wedding dress, to fulfill the dream that I could never achieve myself…”

Fuheng stared at her in stunned silence.

He kept telling her not to cling to the past—but could he do the same?

If he truly could, he would not still keep the letters sent by old friends, the old robe woven by his wet nurse, the old books given by classmates, and that old sachet Yingluo once gave him.

Fuheng was, in fact, the most sentimental person in the world.

“Do you understand now?” She lifted a pair of tear-filled eyes to look at him and murmured, “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have forced a dream I could never fulfill onto Ming Yu.”

This isn’t just your dream—it’s mine too… Fuheng gazed at her in a daze, almost believing he had merely been trapped in a nightmare. He had never married Erqing, and she had never married Hongli. They were still young, still in their prime: she a little palace maid of Changchun Palace, and he her young master…

   But alas, this was no dream.

Wei Yingluo cried for a long time before finally calming down somewhat. She glanced at the hand still resting on her shoulder and unobtrusively pushed it away. “I’m sorry, Lord Fucha. I lost my composure.”

Fuheng: “Yingluo…”

Wei Yingluo stood up. Though she was still dressed in a palace maid’s attire, her demeanor had already returned to that of a consort. “Lord Fucha, it is improper for you to address me that way.”

Fuheng forced back his sorrow: “Your Ladyship Consort Ling, please take good care of yourself.”

Wei Yingluo walked out without looking back. Halfway there, she suddenly stopped. “…Lord Fucha, who told you I was here?”

Fuheng: “I ran into Consort Rong on the way. She said you had gone missing. I guessed you would be here.”

Consort Rong? Wei Yingluo was momentarily stunned, then fell into thought. “Consort Rong… Consort Rong… Wait, could it be…”

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