It struck like a bolt from the blue.
Chu Ruoyan took the name card and saw it was the exchanged birth dates from their betrothal negotiations!
Chu Huaishan hesitated too. After all, with the imperial court currently deferring to the Yan Family’s stance, if they spoke up first, perhaps the matter would be settled…
He turned to his daughter. "Yan’er, if we give up half the medicine, what would it mean for your health—"
"No!" The refusal burst from Chu Ruoyan’s lips before she could stop herself.
Both men frowned in unison, and she quickly amended, "Father, what I mean is—the medicine can be given, but this marriage…"
"Lady Chu, rest assured! This old servant swears on my life—our Third Young Master never breaks his word!"
Steward Fang, mistaking her hesitation for fear of the betrothal’s dissolution, immediately pledged with fervor.
Chu Huaishan added, "You needn’t worry about that. The Yan Family has upheld their honor for three generations. There’s never been a case of them going back on their word."
Chu Ruoyan pressed her lips together, realizing she’d dug herself into a pit.
The medicine had to be given—otherwise, Grandma Yan’s life would be at stake.
But how could she dissuade them from calling off the engagement now?
"Father, Steward Fang, I believe this matter is too significant. We should wait until representatives from both families are present before discussing it further."
The moment she spoke, Steward Fang’s expression darkened. "Lady Chu, you may not know this, but the Yan Mansion is in dire straits. After the Grand General and his wife, four young masters have fallen in battle. Grandma Yan collapsed upon hearing the news and remains unconscious. The Fifth Young Master’s wife has returned to her family. Only the Third Young Master and the Second Young Master’s widow remain kneeling before the ancestral tablets, along with a five-year-old grandson."
"Surely you don’t expect our young grandson to discuss breaking the engagement with you?"
The Yan Family’s situation was worse than she’d imagined.
Chu Ruoyan sighed, deciding to cut to the chase. "Steward Fang, you misunderstand. My meaning is—I do not wish to break the engagement."
"What?!"
Steward Fang and Chu Huaishan exclaimed in unison.
The latter’s shock was tinged with gravity. "Yan’er, do you realize what you’re saying?"
Chu Ruoyan bowed deeply. "Father, the betrothal gifts have been exchanged, the marriage contract signed. How can we simply return them?"
Then, turning to Steward Fang, she declared clearly, "You heard correctly. Chu Ruoyan, legitimate daughter of the Chu Family, is willing to marry the Third Son of Yan."
The hall fell dead silent.
Not just the Yan Family’s representatives—even Lady Jiang the Younger, who had just returned from seeing off Doctor Cheng, wondered if she’d misheard.
What state was the Yan Family in? Their only remaining heir was a cripple!
If they’d been bound by imperial decree before, now that the Yan Family had come forward themselves, refusing this golden opportunity would be sheer madness!
Feeling the Duke’s gaze upon her, Lady Jiang the Younger offered a perfunctory objection. "My dear, your kindness is commendable, but marrying out of pity is no foundation for a lasting union..."
Chu Ruoyan watched her father nod vigorously beside her and decided to lay her cards on the table. "Father, this isn’t pity. The truth is—I have long admired Yan Zheng!"
"What?"
"Admired?"
The hall erupted. Lady Jiang the Younger gaped. "Since when? I don’t recall you ever meeting him!"
Apart from their encounters in dreams, Chu Ruoyan had only seen Yan Zheng in the portrait sent during the marriage selection.
Falling for a man based on a painting? No one would believe that.
Lowering her eyes, she answered calmly, "Mother, you may not know this, but last year during the Lantern Festival, I saw the Third Young Master from afar at the Wangshuang Pavilion... He rescued an orphan girl from a group of ruffians, asking for no reward. His noble bearing struck me deeply. That day, I vowed silently—I would marry no one but him."
Every word wove a tale of tender longing.
The listeners were spellbound, even Yulu looking slightly dazed, as if her mistress had truly stood on that pavilion, pledging her heart to Yan Zheng.
Steward Fang bowed solemnly. "This old servant misunderstood Lady Chu’s feelings earlier. I beg your forgiveness."
"You’re too kind, Steward Fang. Yulu will take you to retrieve the medicine."
The steward thanked her profusely.
Once he left, Chu Huaishan struggled for words. "Yan’er, you—"
His expression screamed, Of all people, why him?
Chu Ruoyan knelt. "Father, I’ve acted willfully and caused you trouble."
Chu Huaishan sighed heavily. "That’s not what concerns me. Even if Yan Zheng turns to scholarship, his leg disqualifies him from office! The Emperor won’t defy ancestral law for him. Without an official post, the Yan Family has no future. Marrying into that house means suffering for you!"
Great Xia’s ancestral law decreed: Those with physical defects could not serve in government.
But how could her father know this man would one day wield power that shook the empire, overturning the capital itself?
Chu Ruoyan kept her eyes downcast, not daring to meet his gaze. Chu Huaishan sighed again. "Very well. If this is your choice, I’ll say no more. Just remember—the Duke’s Mansion will always be your refuge, should you ever wish to return."
Her eyes stung.
She feared neither hardship nor needing refuge—only that she might fail to alter the tragic fate from her dreams.
Yan Mansion, before the ancestral altar.
White banners hung heavy in the mourning hall.
After paying respects to the tablets, Steward Fang retreated and whispered, "Has the young master eaten?"
Meng Yang, Yan Zheng’s longtime attendant, shook his head. Turning, they saw a gaunt young man kneeling rigidly before the memorial tablets—Yan Zheng.
Beside him sat an untouched meal box. Steward Fang paled. "The young master’s injuries... How can he go on like this?"
Meng Yang smiled bitterly. "You know his temperament. If he chooses to kneel, who can make him rise?"
Since returning with the coffins, Yan Zheng had remained like this—kneeling, neither eating, drinking, nor speaking.
Whether receiving officials or imperial kin, he stayed rooted as a stump, prompting visitors to whisper that grief had addled the Third Son of Yan.
Meng Yang sighed, then asked softly, "What of your trip to the Duke’s Mansion? Did you retrieve the medicine?" To him, it was a foregone conclusion—half the medicine in exchange for dissolving the engagement. The Chu Family should be falling over themselves in gratitude.
Yet Steward Fang shook his head. "We got the full dose. But the engagement stands."
Meng Yang froze.
Inside the hall, Yan Zheng’s statue-like form twitched slightly.
Steward Fang hurried forward. "Young Master, Lady Chu declared she has long admired you and refuses to break the betrothal!"
Yan Zheng shuddered, turning his head with painful slowness.
Days without food had cracked his lips; bloodshot eyes fixed on the steward.
"She said... what..."
The rasp was barely audible, but Steward Fang nearly wept for joy—these were the first words the young master had spoken since returning!
Containing his excitement, he repeated Chu Ruoyan’s words verbatim, concluding, "...Surely this is the late master and mistress watching over you, ensuring you’ve found a virtuous wife to share life’s trials until old age!"
Shock gave way to bewilderment on Yan Zheng’s face—then suddenly, he threw back his head and laughed wildly.
"Orphan girl... admiration..."
"Hahaha..."
Between peals of laughter, he shook his head—before coughing up a mouthful of blood!
