Note: Prince Andrew shows up again in this chapter and heâs a jerk. The last scene contains a depiction of attempted sexual assault. Iâll provide a brief summary in the TL notes for people who decide to skip it.
Jian Qiao held the piece of landscape agate and sat on the sofa as if frozen.
His dark eyes were as quiet as a pool of water without a source, and melancholy spread through them.
No one knew what he was thinking at that moment.
âMy lord, itâs getting late. We should go back.â As evening approached, his two manservants walked gingerly to the sofa and spoke cautiously.
âAh, is it dark already?â Jian Qiao seemed like heâd awakened from a long dream, a trance-like expression on his face.
He looked at the night-shrouded street, then at a candle beside him, before gently placing the landscape agate into the box. However, when he was about to close the lid, he suddenly stopped.
He held the box, frozen in place, for a long time.
âMy lord, itâs time to go.â The two servants reminded again.
Jian Qiao rubbed his temples and asked tiredly, âDo you think I should bore a hole in it to make a pendant?â
Heâd been struggling with this question all afternoon.
The two manservants exchanged bewildered glances, then chose silence. The master regarded this piece of agate as a precious treasure, they didnât dare to offer random suggestions.
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Jian Qiao didnât seem to need an answer from the two. After pausing for a moment he murmured again, âBut if you bore a hole in it, wonât it be incomplete? It will hurt, right?â
Did a stone need light and freedom, would it cry if it was kept in the dark, would it feel pain if you drilled a hole in it, would its existence be incomplete as a resultâŚ.
These odd questions were clearly beyond the comprehension of the two servants.
Only a person with a romantic nature would make such absurd associations. Unfortunately neither of them were of this type, so both men lowered their heads and didnât dare to say a word.
The indecisive Jian Qiao hesitated again as he held the agate and fell into contemplation.
Meanwhile, Rege, whoâd returned to the ducal palace, stood in the dimly lit corridor, staring intently at the faceless ăWater Nymphă by the glow of the torches.
âWhy did you change her hair to black?â The tired voice of the old Duke came from the end of the corridor.
Several servants hastened to raise their torches and light the wall lamps.
A moment later, Helen stumbled down the steps and through the corridor, shouting at the top of her lungs: âI gave birth to a little prince! I want to see Charles! I want to be queen! Iâm Gloriaâs most distinguished woman! All of you will finally witness my glory.â
It was obvious she was mad.
The Duchess chased after her into the misty night, helplessly calling over and over again, âCome back, Helen, please come back! Your baby is long gone!â
These women, whoâd once regarded Rege as the thorn in their side, passed by as if they couldnât even see him. Maybe it wasnât that they couldnât see him, but they finally understoodâas long as Rege wanted, he could control their life and death.
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The old Duke watched the figures of mother and daughter recede, and there was no sadness in his cloudy eyes, no pain, only an endless numbness.
He knew all this had been caused by his own willful arrogance and delusion. When he deliberately betrayed the mother of Rege and Moen, this tragedy was set in stone.
âSo, why did you change her hair to black?â The old Duke pursued the question.
Heâd always known the meaning of this painting. In the eyes of others, it was just a lifeless object, but in Regeâs heart, it was the living, breathing, predestined person he would eventually meet. He even saw the other party in his dreams.
It was his greatest treasure.
âWhy did you blacken her blonde hair?â The old Duke pressed again.
It was only when the situation was irreparable that he realized he should have tried to understand this child long ago. Rege was also of his blood, and so strong, resolute, and brave. Heâd inherited the most excellent qualities of Grande.
He wanted to enter this childâs world, and this artwork was a door to that world.
Rege stared at the painting with a focused, unmoving gaze for a long time before he finally reacted. He reluctantly looked away and walked deeper into the corridor. When he passed his father he said in a low voice, âI donât know.â
Indeed, he truly didnât know.
Each time his father asked, he pondered it in his mind but couldnât find the exact answer. Suddenly, one day, heâd inexplicably come up with the ideaâthat black hair might be more beautiful than blonde.
And it turned out this idea wasnât wrong. After the painting was altered, ăWater Nymphăwas countless times more beautiful than before.
The darkness gradually swallowed Regeâs tall figure.
The old Duke turned to look back and said hastily in an ingratiating tone, âI think itâs a good change. With black hair she looks more mysterious and noble. You know, your dream will come true someday. Sheâll come to you and bring you happiness and joy.â
â
Jian Qiao stayed in Grande to recuperate from his illness. In addition to fretting over when he should go back, he now had another worry. That is, whether he should punch a small hole in his treasure and make it into a necklace to wear.
Every day he held that box and pondered over it for a while. This also killed some of his boredom.
He liked to sit on the balcony of the hotel all day with a cup of coffee, doing nothing. Occasionally the sun would break through the clouds and fog, shining through the fissures in the sky. When this happened, heâd reach out his hand, catch a handful of golden sunlight, and silently feel the precious warmth.
Of course, such good luck was very rare.
Every day, Rege rode his horse past the balcony.
When he saw Jian Qiao, he always reined in his horse and halted, and asked in a loud voice, âAre you selling that agate? I really like it! I loved it at first sight!â
âItâs not for sale.â Jian Qiaoâs answer was always the same.
Rege glared at him and looked annoyed, but the next day he would ask the same question again. His love for that agate seemed to increase with every day that passed.
After some time, Jian Qiao, whoâd established a firm foothold in Grande and Polsa, received invitations one after another. Among them, Prince Andrewâs banquet was one he absolutely couldnât refuse.
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Although he knew he had zero control over what would happen when he went to the Princeâs mansion, Jian Qiao still had to go.
He couldnât afford the price of offending the future king. If the king gave the order, the armies of the major lords would assemble to flatten the city of Desolette.
Here in the center of power, Jian Qiao was at the very bottom of the food chain. If he wanted to climb up, he needed more troops and weapons, and it all required money.
Where did the money come from? From free and open trade.
How to achieve free trade? Free trade could be achieved by befriending the king and major lords.
Therefore this was a closed loop in which Jian Qiao had absolutely no choice. He could only bear the burden of humiliation and move forward step by step.
He arrived at the Princeâs mansion as scheduled.
A servant took him over to Prince Andrew. The prince was lying in the arms of a heavily made-up young man, with a glass of spirits in his left hand and a sack of hookah in his right, drifting off to the sensual stimulation of tobacco, wine, and beauty.
The people surrounding Prince Andrew were also in a drunken haze, they looked to be entranced. They were laughing, clamoring, and writhing like a cluster of dancing maggots. The other guests were enjoying rich food, beauties, and fine wine.
This wasnât so much a grand banquet for the rich and famous as it was a playground for adults.
As he drew near, Jian Qiao immediately frowned.
He smelled the scent of opium, it was absolutely impossible for him to misidentify this particular spice after years of immersion in perfume.
So he understood the water pipe in Prince Andrewâs hand wasnât filled with ordinary tobacco, but drugs that could make people unhinged.
Jian Qiao looked around and found that eighty or ninety percent of the people in the hall were smoking waterpipes and drinking hard liquor.
This group of so-called nobles, who had no need to work and didnât feel the pressures of daily life, could only pursue happiness in a pathological way. Their roots were rotten.
What would happen if he stayed with a group of hookah smokers and drunken maniacs, Jian Qiao understood without a momentâs thought.
So he turned around and left.
However, Prince Andrew had already staggered forward and pounced on him, pulling Jian Qiao into his arms. Both men fell into the soft chair.
He smiled broadly and said to everyone, âLook, this is the legendary Earl of Flowervale. Isnât he more beautiful in person than a flower?â
Prince Andrew spoke while pinching Jian Qiaoâs jaw, forcing him to tilt up his face for all to see.
Wild and unrestrained, he regarded Jian Qiao as an actress, singer, or performing dwarf.
This earl from a small, remote town, without a powerful army at his back, was just a little thing that could be toyed with at will.
The guests standing around sized up Jian Qiao openly and roared with laughter. Others blew provocative whistles.
A blaze of anger surged in Jian Qiaoâs heart.
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But to make matters worse, the intense anger tinted his too pale skin a gorgeous shade of scarlet. And this beauty made Prince Andrew even more reluctant to let go.
He gently stroked Jian Qiaoâs cheek and marveled, âMy dear, your skin is as delicate as cream. You really are a treasure!â
Those who surrounded Prince Andrew also looked like they were salivating.
This was a group of beasts dominated by desire. The noble status of their prey wouldnât make them shrink, but further stimulate their urge to tear him apart. They loved mutilation, pain, and despair.
Of course, this mutilation, pain, and despair had to happen to someone else.
Jian Qiao struggled to get up.
But he was still convalescing from a serious illness. He was no match for Prince Andrew, who was as strong as a bull, not to mention his reason had been completely corroded by drugs. He was in a frenzy.
A pure-blooded earl was nothing in his eyes. He just wanted to destroy this beautiful, fragile little thing.
Jian Qiaoâs shoulders were firmly pressed by Prince Andrew, and all the people nearby swarmed around him, hurrying to restrain his limbs.
The guests who stood a little further away saw Jian Qiaoâs wretched and embarrassed appearance and couldnât help but jeer.
They had long grown used to such outrageous scenes.
This was a class of people in the center of power, with vast armies and inexhaustible wealth, who found their entertainment in the suffering of others.
Prince Andrew kept touching Jian Qiaoâs cheek, pressing his fingertips to the thin, red lips, rubbing them back and forth.
âMy God, I canât believe youâre not wearing lip rouge. Your lips are as delicate as roses. How beautiful they are!â Prince Andrewâs voice was hoarse as he murmured, a look of confusion on his face.
Jian Qiao looked at the manâs eyes, which were gradually distorted by desire, and understood that something terrible was about to happen to him. Even if he shouted for help without regard for his dignity, no one there would answer.
These guests would only look over indifferently, then shake their heads and laugh. This could also be called aristocratic poise, but to them, none of this was surprising. When they left, not only would they feel no sympathy for what happened to Jian Qiao, they would also use his pain and despair to make him a laughingstock and publicize it to others.
This wasnât high society, it was the Colosseum. Everyone caught up in it would become a beast without even noticing it, and those who refused to assimilate would be stripped of their personality and self-worth.
The attendant brought a bottle of spirits.
Prince Andrew didnât even bother with a cup, he directly took the bottle and prepared to pour it into Jian Qiaoâs mouth.
The heavily made-up young man who was hugging Prince Andrew earlier grabbed Jian Qiaoâs hair and said the most filthy words. âHurry up and lift your head, you little bitch, youâll drink this entire bottle of good liquor. I guarantee, it wonât be long before you enjoy our games! Youâll hug our thighs and beg for more, and then weâll let you drink a little something special.â
His audience grasped the deeper meaning of the words and let out more sinister laughter.
Jian Qiaoâs body was already wet with cold sweat. A constant stream of despair and fear poured out of his dark eyes.
In a trance, he seemed to have returned to his previous life.
The feeling of being imprisoned by these people overlapped with the memory of being caught under his motherâs arms and dragged into the river, which gave him a strong desire to vomit.
He was so nauseated he was about to faint.
The flames of anger had long since been suppressed by massive fear. Without the support of anger, Jian Qiao went limp.
Prince Andrew hugged his body, which seemed as soft as if it had no bones, and laughed even more wildly.
The surrounding guests either looked on coldly, or ignored them, or were full of contempt. No one tried to walk over and pull Jian Qiao out of the endless darkness.
As Prince Andrew squeezed open Jian Qiaoâs jaw and poured the pungent liquor into his mouth, a big hand suddenly reached out from behind and snatched away the bottle.
âGentlemen, you crossed the line.â A low voice full of fury and threat made the noisy banquet hall suddenly become dead silent.
Everyone stopped their carousing, including Prince Andrew.
The musicians and singers were like rabbits with their tongues pulled out, cowering together.
TL Notes:
Summary of final scene: Jian Qiao attends a wild party hosted by Prince Andrew. At the party, Prince Andrew tries to push down Jian Qiao against his will in front of a crowd. An unnamed person heroically interrupts. End scene.