Jian Qiao ran back to the hotel in a panic, and in a panic he turned around and around the room, muttering, âHow terrible, how terrible, everythingâs gone terribly wrong!â
Without thinking about it he sharply ordered, âPack up our things, weâre leaving at once!â
The two manservants were bewildered but they began to pack the luggage.
At the same time, from outside the balcony there came the sound of a galloping stallion. The hoofbeats were swift and urgent, as if the horse was going to shatter the stone cobbles of the street.
Jian Qiao didnât need to run to the window to know Rege had chased him.
He quickly shut the door of the room and pressed his back against it.
A few short moments later, heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, followed by a ragged gasp. This ferocious panting was the sound that only a seriously wounded beast could make.
âJian Qiao, come out,â Rege called in a low voice.
Jian Qiao pressed against the door panel more anxiously, not daring to say a word.
The two servants also stopped packing the bags. They looked at the door with apprehension.
âDo I disgust you that much, eh, Jian Qiao? Does kissing me make you vomit?â Rege asked hoarsely. If one listened carefully, there was even a trace of a choking sob in his voice.
He had never been so sad!
Jian Qiao closed his eyes and shook his head gently.
No, itâs not disgust. Iâm just⌠just afraid of the taste of blood.
He didnât say these words aloud. He didnât dare to communicate with the current Rege.
Rege, who received no response after waiting a long time, let out a miserable laugh. In a very depressed voice he said, âJian Qiao, give me an answer! Either reject me completely and tell me you can never fall in love with me, or promise me weâll try to go forward together. Jian Qiao, open the door and let me see you. Letâs talk about everything. Jian Qiao! Donât leave without saying a word, donât say weâll never meet again! Give me a clear answer, Jian Qiao!â
By the end, he was almost begging.
Jian Qiao was still shaking his head.
The corners of his reddened eyes were glittering with tears.
He couldnât do it. He couldnât give a definite answer. He couldnât stab Regeâs heart with the sharp blade of his words, leaving him in pain and despair; nor could he overcome his fear and step into an abyss heâd vowed to never enter.
Love is an abyss! Love is doomed to disappear! But friendship endures, friendship can last forever. So why destroy their friendship?
This was the only friend heâd ever had!
Jian Qiaoâs eyes were rimmed with red, his nose was also red, and he seemed on the verge of crying.
Rege waited a few more moments, but the room was still silent.
The silence burned him more than the blaze inside his heart.
âYou come out! Letâs talk face to face!â He slammed his fist against the door.
The tremendous force made Jian Qiao, who was clinging to the door panel, jerk forward.
The two servants recovered from their consternation and hurried to help their master hold the door. A rampaging lion wasnât something they could handle. If Rege smashed the door and broke in, there was no telling what would happen tonight.
But they were wrong.
Rege had only struck the door panel when he realized there was a person behind the door, and that person must be Jian Qiao.
So, in an instant, the frantic lion who was about to go berserk restrained his agitation and reluctance. He didnât throw a second punch because he knew it would definitely crack the wooden door, and the person behind it would be hurt. Fragments of broken wood would scratch his pale cheeks, fear would fill his dark eyes.
Thinking of this scene, Regeâs raging and helpless heart immediately softened.
He didnât move for a long time, but his ragged gasps came one after another.
The intricate pattern of iron and copper inlaid on the door had cut his hand, causing blood to drip from his fist.
When he saw the blood, he finally took two steps back. With great dejection he said, âIâm leaving. Weâll talk when youâve calmed down.â
He paused for a moment to catch his breath and tame his erupting emotions.
Then he took out his handkerchief and carefully wiped the blood from the door and the floor.
His wish to protect Jian Qiao hadnât changed, even at such a time.
The heavy footsteps retreated farther and farther away, and Jian Qiao, who was hiding behind the door, slid to the ground. He thrust his ten fingers into his hair and tugged helplessly.
His only heart-to-heart friend was lost, just like that?
â
Jian Qiao spent three days writing farewell letters to the lords he knew well, but he still had no idea what to write to Rege.
Any words were pale and meaningless. He knew how to make the man despair, but he couldnât bear to; and he knew how to make the man rejoice, but he couldnât do it.
Faced with the empty sheet of paper, Jian Qiaoâs hair almost went gray.
He covered his face and let out a low moan.
ăMy dearest friendâă
This line of text had taken several days of deliberation to write, and the ink had long since dried.
Rege also spent three days writing letters, but he didnât write to Jian Qiao.
âSend these letters and paintings away, and donât mix them up,â Rege said in a hoarse voice.
The butler took the box of letters, bowed in response, and then told the servants to pack up the hundred portraits one by one, affix their addresses, and send them back to the heroine depicted in each painting. They were all once Regeâs lovers, and after breaking up they still maintained a friendly relationship.
But now Rege was cutting his last ties with them.
His heart had been taken over by someone, completely filled to the brim, without any gaps at all.
He was still waiting for that person to come and crush his heart or make it beat again.
âThere are some portraits whose mistresses we cannot find. Either they passed away or weâve no word of them at all. What do you wish to do with them?â the butler reminded.
âBurn them.â Rege did not hesitate.
Just then someone arrived from the palace, an attendant of Queen Moen.
Rege visited the palace that night.
â
The following day, the two servants who had gone outside to deliver farewell letters for their master came back in a hurry and said with excitement, âMy lord, no need to fear, Lord Rege wonât disturb you anymore! Heâs getting married!â
âWhat?â Jian Qiao, who was lying on the desk worrying over the blank letter, jerked his head up, revealing a pile of messy hair.
âHe, heâs getting married?â As Jian Qiao opened his mouth, a mass of incomparable bitterness sprang into his throat.
This bitterness was impossible to explain, but it also made him feel at a loss.
âYes, heâs marrying Princess Clarice of the Principality of Orson. Itâs an absolutely advantageous marriage! Itâs said the matchmaker is Queen Moen. Princess Clarice has already arrived in Grande, where sheâs planning to hold the wedding.â
As soon as the servantâs words fell, the sound of a mighty procession running through the street came from outside the window, accompanied by the ringing blare of trumpets and the majestic bells and drums of the tower, a very grand sound.
Crowds of people flocked to follow this entourage, running and shouting as if they were celebrating a festival.
âSheâs here.â The servant opened the window and pointed outside.
Jian Qiao walked over and looked down.
It was a procession without end, preceded by dozens of luxurious carriages clearing the way, followed by hundreds of heavily armed knights, with a high raised flagpole where a golden banner fluttered, a flag embroidered with red roses and a sword.
This was the crest of the Principality of Orson.
The carriage at the forefront surprisingly had an open top. A woman in elegant clothes sat on a blood-red velvet sofa, gently waving to the people on both sides of the street.
She had blonde hair and blue eyes, snowy skin and red lips, and was brilliantly beautiful. Like Rege, she was a most dazzling existence.
There was no smile on her lips, but her eyebrows were relaxed and natural, and she showed no nervousness despite visiting the most powerful city-state in Tortus for the first time. The way she greeted the commoners was condescending and careless, as if this was her domain.
Of course, if she married Rege this would indeed be her domain.
Her jaw was slightly raised, her eyes were cold, and her body exuded the same self-confidence, flair, and arrogance as Rege.
They were two of a kind.
Jian Qiao stared at this woman for a long time and didnât know when his hands first grabbed the balcony railing. When he heard the news of Regeâs wedding he should have felt relieved, but the lake of his churning heart raised even higher waves.
He didnât feel relieved at all. Rather, he was even more panicked and confused.
He turned away, fleeing into the house in disarray.
For some reason he didnât want to see this woman.
Just then there was a knock on the door, and the voice of the calm and proud butler of the ducal palace came from outside: âYour Lordship, Iâve come to deliver a gift on behalf of my master. I ask you to please accept this painting.â
Jian Qiaoâs manservant became even more reassured, saying quietly, âHe must have come to return your portrait. They say that in order to prove his loyalty to Princess Clarice, Lord Rege returned all those pictures of beautiful women. And when he couldnât find the owners, he burned them straight away. He attaches great importance to his future wife, so you can rest assured.â
Jian Qiao responded with a hoarse voice, but his thoughts were a mess.
He opened the door and took the painting.
The butler bowed slightly in acknowledgement, then went away in silence.
Jian Qiao dismissed the two male servants and locked the door before he lifted the white cloth on the painting.
Indeed this was the painting of ăDanaĂŤă. The youth who was trapped in the darkness received a release of both body and soul from a golden beam of light. Every stroke on the painting was full of the desire that Rege had nowhere to vent.
This lust was entangled in the body of the young man, just as Regeâs words drenched with turbulent, maddening love echoed in Jian Qiaoâs mind.
But only a few days later, the madness suddenly came to an end. It was like the confession never happened. Rege completely disappeared from Jian Qiaoâs life.
Jian Qiao only had to burn the painting and all the traces would be gone. He could return to his previous uneventful life.
Jian Qiao stared at the painting in a daze. After returning to his senses, he hurriedly covered it with the white cloth, then stepped back in a hurry, rubbing his hands as if heâd been scalded by fire. He blinked his stinging eyes and a few glistening tears emerged.
âCorton, take this paintingââ
When he made up his mind to really burn the painting, he couldnât even give a proper order. His voice was low, as if he were muttering to himself.
Eventually he sat down in the rocking chair and covered his pale face, letting out a trapped and broken sigh.
â
Rege was busy preparing for the wedding, and Jian Qiaoâs manservants slowed down their pace of packing.
Two more days passed before everything was ready to go.
Just as Jian Qiao put on his coat and was about to step out of the room, a decree came from the palace. He was ordered to take his knights and report immediately to the military barracks outside the city.
Gloria was about to go to war with another powerful empire. Prince Andrew had taken his army into the other countryâs territory without permission to engage in hunting, and heâd slaughtered one of the countryâs villages.
There were more than three hundred villagers living there. From the elderly to the infants, none of them survived.
This was, without question, something Andrew was capable of.
Where did the glory and power of the nobility come from? It came from war.
The fiefs that every nobleman received from the king were earned through their military achievements, and Jian Qiaoâs ancestors were no exception.
If they wanted to keep or expand their territory, they had to answer the kingâs call to fight and win every war.
It was a responsibility that couldnât be denied.
And now the responsibility fell on Jian Qiao.
Jian Qiao had never been to war but he could imagine what he would encounter. He got a fever after a rain, and he fell ill when the wind blew for a while. He even fainted when he saw blood. He would certainly die when he went to the front line!
He might scare himself to death before the butcherâs knife of the enemy ever fell.
Fearing death, Jian Qiao gripped the draft letter in his hand and shook like a leaf in the autumn wind. He began to suspect this was the retribution heâd earned for hurting Rege.
TL Notes:
Transliterated names, titles, and placesânew in this chapter:
ĺ Źä¸ť â GĹngZhÇ â Princess, Grand Princess, infanta