The gu worm extraction proceeded smoothly, but Mo Sigui fainted due to excessive qi consumption. He slept for five days and six nights.
This sleep was incredibly refreshing. It was the first time he had slept so deeply since Lou Mingyue entered her dangerous month.
An Jiu stayed on the island to help care for both patients.
The morning mist enveloped the island, its damp air refreshing.
An Jiu sat by Mei Yanran’s bed, holding a bowl of medicinal soup. She had been feeding Mei Yanran during her unconscious days, and this morning was no different, except Mei Yanran was now awake.
“I can do it myself,” Mei Yanran said, uncomfortable with the spoon approaching her lips.
An Jiu silently handed her the bowl.
Mei Yanran propped herself up against the headboard, slowly stirring the soup.
After a moment, she paused. “From now on, treat me as a stranger.”
The room fell silent.
Mei Yanran looked up, noticing An Jiu’s slightly furrowed brow and clear but cold gaze. The familiar face with an unfamiliar feeling made Mei Yanran uneasy. “You’re not my daughter. There’s no need to fulfill filial duties for her. I had a mother-daughter bond with her. She was born to me, but I failed to care for her properly. I’ve let her down.”
Mei Yanran had been reflecting a lot lately. The same body, the same circumstances, yet a different soul could survive tenaciously where Mei Jiu couldn’t.
“Jiu’er wasn’t born weak. In the years after we fled Meihua Village, we lived in hiding, enduring great hardship. I remember once when we hadn’t eaten all day and had to trek through miles of forest. I was severely injured and lost our way. Not only did she keep walking, but she also comforted me, saying, ‘Mother, we’ll be out soon.'”
In truth, even Mei Yanran didn’t know when they’d exit the forest.
“At that time, I vowed to take good care of her,” Mei Yanran’s eyes reddened as she stirred the soup. “My overprotection cost her life.”
Mei Yanran was certain that a girl as beautiful and delicate as Mei Jiu would have been married off if she returned to the clan. But An Jiu’s arrival was unexpected, and the Mei clan valued her archery talent. This path was like putting Mei Jiu on fire; her demise was inevitable.
Yet Mei Yanran didn’t hate An Jiu. Once the Mei clan discovered her death, the fragile Mei Jiu would have lost her value, and they would have silenced her. By then, Mei Jiu was already dead. It was An Jiu’s exceptional archery that won them a chance at life.
Mei Yanran understood all this. Her deep guilt towards Mei Jiu made it even harder to face An Jiu.
“Jiu’er changed a lot because of you,” Mei Yanran’s eyelashes trembled, hinting at tears. “I won’t interfere with her life anymore. Perhaps in her darkest hour, I can use what’s left of my life to give her a chance at survival. That would fulfill our mother-daughter bond.”
“You don’t owe me anything. It’s my fault for not raising my daughter well. That’s why you came,” Mei Yanran downed the bitter medicine in one gulp, hiding her tears.
She had poured all her emotions into her daughter, albeit misguided. Admitting her mistake and letting go was a pain only a mother who loved her daughter dearly could understand.
An Jiu stood up and silently left.
No matter how good a mother is, she’s not one’s own.
Outside, the sun broke through the clouds. An Jiu closed her eyes, repeatedly recalling the memory of that emaciated woman holding a passport, excitedly saying, “An, we can go back to our country.”
She hadn’t elaborated much on their life after returning, but An Jiu could see a beautiful yet vague future in her excited expression.
Back then, An Jiu had curled up in bed, her feelings complex – fear, pity, even disdain for her mother’s incompetence and foolishness.
It wasn’t until her mother’s eyes lost their light, when grief and panic overwhelmed her, that An Jiu realized the mother who loved her most foolishly was gone forever.
As a mother, Mei might have been foolish, but undeniably, there would never be another love like hers in this world.
So regret became an eternal regret, never to be recovered.
An Jiu exhaled slowly and left Meihua Village alone, heading for the Hua mansion.
Red lanterns and silk ribbons hung on the Hua mansion, the festive atmosphere lingering.
After inquiring around, An Jiu learned that Hua Rongjian had married three days ago.
An Jiu didn’t know when the marriage was arranged, but even if it was two months ago, it seemed too rushed.
Minister Hua was trying to curry favor with the emperor. Although it couldn’t completely dispel the emperor’s suspicions, it could at least buy some time.
Was the Hua family’s situation so dire that they needed to sacrifice an heir’s marriage as a temporary measure?
An Jiu sighed inwardly. No wonder Chu Dingjiang left his powerful family without hesitation. Coming from such a background, he must have foreseen the price of staying with the Hua family and preferred to start from scratch.
“I’m here to see the Second Young Master Hua,” An Jiu bought some gifts and knocked on the Hua mansion’s door, telling the doorkeeper, “I am Mei Fourteen.”
An Jiu wore men’s clothing and a human skin mask but didn’t deliberately conceal her figure.
“Please wait,” the doorkeeper went to inquire.
After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the gate reopened, and a maid came to escort her.
An Jiu followed her to Hua Rongjian’s quarters and sat in the hall waiting. A servant brought hot tea and snacks.
After a long wait, An Jiu sipped the now-cold tea. She usually didn’t eat or drink casually outside, but she trusted Hua Rongjian.
Two-quarters of an hour passed before Hua Rongjian finally entered.
He wore a deep blue robe, his expression calm, showing none of his usual playboy demeanor. He dismissed all the servants, leaving only the two of them in the room.
“I heard you got married. I came to congratulate you,” An Jiu pushed the gift box on the table.
It was her first time giving a wedding gift, nothing too expensive – an interesting ornamental stone that had been quite heavy to carry.
“Ah Jiu,” Hua Rongjian showed no joy, staring at her, “Do you know Chu Dingjiang?”
An Jiu’s heart skipped a beat, unsure how to answer, so she remained silent.
“Is it that hard to answer?” Hua Rongjian sneered, self-mockingly, “I treated you sincerely, yet you hid so much from me. You knew the real Hua Rongjian was right beside you, yet you helped him deceive me! I don’t think I’ve wronged you in any way!”
An Jiu’s mind was briefly chaotic but quickly calmed. “I have the right not to tell.”