Entangled Love GL - Chapter 14

The current Emperor has a full sister, originally named Zhaoyuan, who was deeply beloved by her father and elder brother. When the current Emperor ascended the throne, she was granted the title of Princess Wushuang (Matchless), and subsequently, the name Zhaoyuan was replaced by Wushuang.

“Could it be,” Duan Min couldn’t help but press, “that your mother was the current Princess?”

Yang Mei nodded, casually pulled over a stool, and sat down beside Duan Min, then shook her head and explained: “Not anymore. Back then, my mother broke off with the Imperial Family to marry my father, giving up her noble title and status.” By the end, she was grinding her teeth, “And my father had no feelings for her at all. He quickly stopped caring for her, locked her up in a secluded small courtyard, and had two or three servants guard her. It was very difficult for me to see her when I was little, and whenever I saw her, she was always depressed. Later, they said she went mad, and then she died!”

“He actually mistook me for her… How ridiculous! Does he even remember her! It looks like he’s close to death. Perhaps my mother has come to collect her debt from him.” Yang Mei’s eyes were icy cold, and a strange smile hung on her face.

Duan Min didn’t know what to say in this situation. Duan Min knew that Yang Mei had always been mistaken; if she knew the secret of Princess Wushuang, she wouldn’t interpret what she saw in her childhood this way. But she probably wouldn’t know for her entire life, and Duan Min didn’t plan to tell her—not for her sake, but simply because Duan Min was not supposed to know these things in the first place.

Yang Mei slowly calmed down. Seeing her thoughtful and silent, she cautiously leaned in and gently said, “Now that you mention it, you do resemble her a bit: you are also always unhappy, always thinking about something.” Yang Mei thought about it, and it seemed that Duan Min had only smiled somewhat happily on the day she first arrived in the mountains and saw Xiaonian when entering the door. At all other times, even her smiles were always faint, more like a mockery, or an endurance, or a concealment.

Yang Mei suddenly felt a little jealous, and three parts heartache.

Duan Min was holding a book, sitting quietly by the window, looking at the loquat tree outside. When Yang Mei walked in, she unconsciously held her breath, staring at her in fascination. But she was unhappy—calm, but unhappy—and didn’t even cheer up a little upon seeing her. A strong feeling of dissatisfaction arose in Yang Mei. She had been tolerating her, treating her so well, and why couldn’t she be happy for her sake?

“How about the looks?”

“What?” Yang Mei was spaced out and didn’t immediately understand.

“Does my appearance also resemble your mother’s?”

Yang Mei looked at her closely and shook her head: “I was still young when she passed away, so I really don’t remember what she looked like.”

“There must be some resemblance.” Duan Min smiled, her expression quite self-mocking. Before Yang Mei could figure out the meaning of the self-mockery, the self-mockery had turned into a solemn expression, grave and yet perplexed, even carrying a slight hint of fragility.

Yang Mei felt a little flustered, staring at her, afraid to look away. She heard her slowly say, “You don’t even clearly remember her appearance, and you weren’t together much, so why…”

Duan Min didn’t finish. Yang Mei didn’t wait long and immediately said, “There’s no ‘why.’ She is my mother. If I don’t remember her pain and think of doing something for her, no one else will think of or do anything for her.”

Duan Min listened to her reply with her eyes slightly lowered, making her emotions unreadable.

Yang Mei frowned, her voice tinged with impatience: “What’s wrong?”

Duan Min suddenly raised her eyes, looked at her, and smiled: “If you are drawing close to me out of nostalgia for your mother, I can consider graciously accepting it.”

“Forget it, don’t treat me like a child!” Yang Mei’s face flushed. She paused and said, “What are you thinking? Your smile is too fake!”

“Oh?” Duan Min raised a hand to touch her cheek. “It’s not fake, you’re just being overly sensitive.”

Yang Mei suddenly felt very annoyed. Duan Min wouldn’t admit it, wouldn’t be frank, wouldn’t accept concern, yet she deliberately let her see her distress, making her worry! Yang Mei was also angry with herself. She took a few breaths before finding a topic to continue the conversation, saying: “Now that everything I should do for my mother is done, and the things I should get are in my hands, you can live here in peace. I will treat you well, and you don’t need to worry about anything, or be anxious.”

Duan Min slightly frowned: “Do you really plan to keep me locked up here long-term?”

“Don’t even try to discuss that.” Yang Mei’s expression was a little cold. “My mother’s matter has been a taboo for many years, but you can talk about anything else you want. You can discuss anything here, except for that.” She then smiled and said, “Actually, I don’t want to keep you locked up either. I really want you to be able to go anywhere, as long as you swear you’ll always come back.”

Duan Min had utter disdain for things like swearing. As for swearing to do things she couldn’t or didn’t want to do, Duan Min was even more disdainful. But she only said, “If you truly mean that, I can swear a hundred times right now.”

Yang Mei’s face turned from red to white. Annoyed, she couldn’t sit still, standing up and pacing back and forth, murmuring, “You are simply too much!”

Duan Min had dreams for several consecutive nights, and in them, there was always one person. This person would either smile, or just give a cold glance, or bend over working, or speak some words. Each time she dreamed, it was only extremely fragmented snapshots, but they always startled Duan Min awake, and she would remain unsettled for a long time after waking.

This person was Duan Youchang.

Duan Youchang sighed when he passed away, a sigh of both relief and worry. He hadn’t asked Duan Min to do anything, but Duan Min had always known that he hoped she could do something: not to inherit his medical skills, nor to heal people, but to make amends for his past mistakes. These things, Duan Min had never agreed to verbally, but had long since consented to in her heart.

In fact, over the past decade or so, Duan Min had continuously sought to understand the story that Duan Youchang kept hidden in his heart, constantly contemplating what she could do. These matters, kept in her heart for years, were no longer entirely Duan Youchang’s business.

What’s more, it was only right for a daughter to pay a father’s debt.

Even more, if she didn’t do these things for him, no one else would…

Duan Youchang had always been concerned about five people, one of whom was Xiaonian. Duan Min had already sent her away, letting her keep a distance from the past troubles. The troubles of the past wouldn’t have caused waves again, but Duan Min sent her away because she decided to open the healed scab and see if there was anything that could still be treated.

Duan Min didn’t know why she was having dreams. Duan Youchang had passed away over a year ago, and he had never disturbed her so frequently. Perhaps he was afraid she would get too comfortable and change her mind? Perhaps he was afraid of Yang Mei’s many entanglements, which might cause complications? Duan Min didn’t know, nor did she believe in that.

Yang Mei took over This Place Pavilion with basically no trouble, but the sub-pavilions below still caused some problems. After the Crown Prince’s wedding, she took a trip to a few surrounding locations with some capable subordinates to assess the situation and stabilize the morale. Xue Yuyu remained in the capital to handle daily affairs, with a dignified manner and authoritative conduct, clearly taking the entire Pavilion as his personal responsibility.

Duan Min stayed put dutifully. The loquats gradually ripened. Plates of them were picked and eaten, but they were actually both sour and tart, far less pleasing than when they hung on the tree.

There was nothing left to see outside the window. In addition to reading, Duan Min often took walks in the courtyard, sometimes with Yueting, sometimes alone, and occasionally she encountered some people from This Place Pavilion, such as Xue Yuyu.

Xue Yuyu seemed to particularly like a small pavilion on the east side of the courtyard. Duan Min saw him there three times when she passed by. The first two times, they merely nodded in greeting. The third time, he stood up and invited her, saying, “Miss Duan, why don’t you come in and sit for a while?”

The pavilion was small, just big enough for a stone table and two stone benches. A chessboard was carved onto the tabletop, with black and white pieces intertwined, the game already past the midpoint.

Duan Min looked down. The chessboard was meticulously carved, the ink lines level, even, and straight. Having been smoothed and polished by years of chess pieces and fingers, the surface was glossy black and smooth, making Xue Yuyu’s hand, which held a black piece, look especially fair. Duan Min smiled and said, “I’m sorry to interrupt Military Advisor Xue’s refined leisure.”

Xue Yuyu shook his palm-leaf fan, his smile very elegant: “Would Miss Duan be willing to finish this game with me and offer some advice?”