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seongwars · 2 months ago

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Romancing Doctor Zayne ⟡ Part 1

Pairing: non-mc!matchmaker x zayne Genre: Regency era! Idiots to lovers. Fluff, humor, a dash of angst. MC/non-MC appears as your older sister, Sylus is your brother-in-law Summary: Dr. Zayne Li is a brilliant physician who's completely useless in social settings. You're one of Linkon's most sought after matchmakers tasked with finding his perfect match. What could go wrong when feelings get involved? Word Count: 11K--there will be a part 2!

a/n: it's finally here! this took me forever to write and i'm not quite done with my hiatus yet but because pride & prejudice is on netflix it inspired me to finish the first part of this fic.

You had never intended to be a matchmaker.

It had all started, rather embarrassingly, with a misplaced observation at Lady Talia’s estate last year. She had been hosting one of her elaborate afternoon teas and the conversation was just lively enough to make up for the lackluster company. Amid polite chatter, you had offhandedly remarked that Mr. Gideon seemed far more open and talkative when seated next to your dear friend, Simone.

Within a month, Gideon was calling on Simone with great enthusiasm, and not long after, they were formally courting. You had thought it a happy coincidence—until the morning after their engagement was announced, when Simone's parents arrived at your doorstep unannounced, beaming as though you had single-handedly saved their daughter from ruin.

“Oh, Y/N, we cannot thank you enough!” Her mother had gushed, clasping your hands between her gloved ones.

“If not for you, dear Simone might have—” She had stopped short, as if only then realizing who exactly she was speaking to.

“Might have what, my lady?” you inquired, tilting your head.

“Nothing, nothing. Just that we are so grateful for your keen insight. What a gift you have!”

Indeed. A gift you hadn’t fully appreciated until it happened again.

Dr. Greyson and Tara, brought together after you casually noted how often he seemed to linger near her at social gatherings. Then Lord Jeremiah and Miss Yvonne, whose mutual affection had gone unnoticed by everyone but you.

At first, you had brushed these successes off as coincidence, but when grateful families began inquiring about the monetary aspect of your services, you realized there was something to be made of this.

A spinster you may be, but you were a spinster with a talent.

Your family, of course, had their opinions. Your parents were entirely unimpressed by your newfound profession, scoffing at the irony of a spinster making a career out of love matches.

“You spend your time making matches for others, but what of your own?” your mother had asked.

Without missing a beat, you had taken a sip of your tea and replied, “Well, Mother, some of us prefer to keep our hearts and bank accounts intact.”

Your father had choked on his biscuit.

Your elder sister, on the other hand, had been much more supportive, though that may have had something to do with the fact that you'd been the one to nudge her in the direction of Mr. Sylus Qin, after nearly three years of will-they-won't-they nonsense. After a number of twists, turns, and misunderstandings, the two had finally married.

“Caleb! Oh, how good to see you!” your mother exclaimed, beaming as she welcomed your ever-cheerful neighbor into your home.

It wasn’t even noon yet.

Your father made a disgruntled noise behind his newspaper, turning a page with more force than necessary. You, still nursing your first cup of tea, resisted the urge to groan into it.

Caleb Xia was a morning person. Not just any morning person, but the sort who greeted the dawn with unbridled enthusiasm, who had probably already been up for hours tending to business and charming the entire ton before you had even considered leaving your bed.

It was unnatural. Even more unnatural was your mother’s relentless meddling in attempting to match you with Mr. Xia. But you had always known he was destined to be an eternal bachelor—especially after having his heart broken when your sister married Sylus.

“Mrs. Hunter,” Caleb greeted warmly. “Always a pleasure. The garden is looking rather lovely this time of year.”

Your mother preened at the compliment, as she always did. “Oh, you are simply too kind, dear.”

“Yes, entirely too kind,” you muttered into your teacup, earning a sharp look from your mother.

“Speaking of kindness,” Caleb took the seat across from you, helping himself to a scone from the spread as if he lived here. Which, frankly, he might as well have, given how often he turned up unannounced.

“I seek your wisdom.”

You took a slow sip of tea, eyeing him warily. “It will cost you.”

“Miss Hunter, this isn’t just any work,” he countered, helping himself to another scone.

“This is an opportunity.”

You frowned. “Opportunity for whom?”

“For you, of course. And my dear friend, Dr. Zayne Li.”

You hummed, pretending to consider, but the moment he said doctor, the glint of profit flashed before your eyes. Doctors were wealthy. They tended to be responsible, successful, and, most importantly, willing to pay handsomely for assistance in re-entering society.

“Go on.”

Caleb’s grin widened. “He’s a brilliant physician from Bloomshore. Kind, respectable, completely useless in social settings. If left alone, he’ll probably marry his medical books.” He pointed his butter knife at you.

“I thought, who better to guide him to the perfect match than you?”

“Does Dr. Li know you’re putting him up to this?”

“No. But! He will be grateful once he realizes what a fine service you’re providing.”

A doctor seeking to marry? That was a premium case, easily worth double your usual rate. Perhaps even triple, if Caleb’s assessment of his abysmal social skills proved accurate. You could already envision the eager mamas flocking to you, desperate to have their daughters matched with the elusive doctor.

“When is he expected in Linkon?”

“Next week.”

“Well then, it seems I have my work cut out for me. Tell the doctor that if there’s a match to be made, I shall find it.”

Dr. Zayne Li arrived in Linkon under blue skies.

Medicine had carried him through countless towns and estates, but social calls had never been his strength. He preferred his work, things that could be studied, measured and understood. People, however, were another matter entirely.

He exhaled, scanning the streets of Linkon with a creeping sense of weariness. The city was far livelier than Bloomshore, larger, louder, closing in from all sides with a restless energy that threatened to drain him.

“There you are,” Caleb greeted him with outstretched arms. “A little road-worn, but none the worse for wear.”

“I would have been content to arrive without an audience,” Zayne remarked dryly, brushing a bit of dust from his sleeve.

“Ah, but then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of informing you of your first obligation.”

“And what would that be?” he asked, already suspecting he would not like the answer.

Caleb’s grin widened. “A ball.”

“I’m not interested.”

“W-Wait!” Caleb caught his arm as he turned to leave.

“At least hear me out.”

“There’s nothing to hear. I do not dance nor do I have any desire to engage in frivolous social gatherings.”

"W-Well, that’s where you’ll meet my friend,” he said, clearing his throat. “Suffering from, uh, spinsterism.”

Perhaps referring to you as a "dear friend suffering from the dreadful affliction of spinsterism" had not been his finest moment. But in his defense, he had been desperate to convince Zayne to come to Linkon and cooperate. And now, thanks to his own loose tongue, he was stuck in an ever deepening pit of his own making.

Zayne straightened, suddenly intrigued by Caleb’s words. “I don’t believe I’ve ever encountered such a condition in my studies. Is it a chronic affliction or an acute one?”

Caleb blinked. “Uh—”

“The symptoms,” Zayne continued, eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Are they progressive? Does it worsen with age?”

“Well—”

“Has it been observed in married women, or is it exclusive to the unmarried? What are the physiological manifestations? Fatigue? Nervous palpitations?”

“Definitely some nervous palpitations.”

Zayne hummed, already lost in thought. “Fascinating. And what treatments have been attempted? Dietary changes? Bloodletting? Surely, if it’s as prevalent as you claim, there must be documented studies on the matter.”

“You’d be the first, Dr. Zayne,” Caleb coughed. He clapped the doctor on the back and steered him forward.

“Come now, we must make haste. We wouldn’t want your patient to waste away before you can examine her.”

Zayne’s brows furrowed in concentration as he trailed behind Caleb, his mind fully engaged in the absurdity of his own making.

“I must get my hands on these studies at once. I assume the condition is more prevalent in certain social classes?”

“Oh, definitely.” Caleb was fully committed to the bit now. “Particularly among well-bred young ladies past the age of five and twenty.”

Zayne muttered something about early onset cases and socioeconomic correlations as he strode ahead, completely unaware that he was the subject of Caleb’s greatest prank to date.

⟡

You stood near the entrance of the estate, offering polite curtsies to members of your family’s social circle, clients former and current as they arrived. The evening was lively, brimming with the chatter of Linkon’s elite. Yet, despite the spectacle, your thoughts were preoccupied with one particular arrival: the esteemed Dr. Zayne Li, whom Caleb had all but pleaded you to take under your wing.

You had wondered what he might be like.

Caleb had described a man of great intellect, one of the finest medical minds of his generation. A physician of both discipline and skill, a most promising acquaintance, Caleb had assured you. But dreadfully lacking in social graces.

At last, you spotted them. Caleb, striding forward beside him, a tall, serious looking man with green eyes that flickered across the crowd like he was searching for the nearest exit.

“Ah, there she is!” Caleb declared, far too loudly.

“Dr. Zayne, may I present my dear friend, Miss Y/N Hunter. The very picture of grace and resilience in the face of her most unfortunate affliction.”

You shot Caleb a look that promised retribution before turning to his companion with a stiff smile.

“Dr. Zayne, it’s a pleasure.”

The doctor studied you with an assessing gaze, his brow slightly furrowed. “You appear…surprisingly healthy.”

You blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“For someone afflicted with spinsterism,” he clarified, tilting his head, as though he were trying to reconcile your appearance with a dreadful prognosis.

“No pallor, no visible signs of deterioration…”

Your smile froze. Slowly, deliberately, you turned back to Caleb.

“Excuse us, Doctor,” you said, voice dripping with sweetness.

Without waiting for his response, you yanked Caleb behind a nearby pillar, making sure to drag him just far enough away so Zayne couldn’t hear the imminent disaster that was about to unfold.

“What,” you hissed, “did you tell him?”

Caleb held up his hands. “Now, before you get upset—”

“Caleb!”

“I may have slightly misled him into believing spinsterism a medical condition.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “A medical condition?”

“In my defense, he took the idea and ran with it before I could clarify.”

“You implied I was wasting away, didn’t you?”

“…Only a little?”

“I am going to strangle you!” you seethed, hitting him across the arm with your fan.

You straightened yourself, taking a deep breath to regain your composure. You couldn’t stay mad at Caleb forever—well, you could, but for now, there was a much more pressing matter. With one final glare you turned on your heel and made your way back to where Zayne stood.

“Doctor,” you began, smoothing your expression into something far more pleasant, “I do apologize for the interruption.”

You shot Caleb a sharp look before turning your full attention back to the doctor.

“I assure you, I am quite well, despite the rather imaginative condition Mr. Xia has misdiagnosed me with.”

Zayne blinked, still processing what had just happened. "I...see. No harm done, I hope."

“None whatsoever! Well, Doctor,” you said, lips curving into a smile, “I shall consider it my duty to make your suffering more bearable.”

“That is very generous of you, Miss Hunter.”

Without hesitation, he held out his arm in polite invitation. You gladly accepted, letting your gloved fingers rest lightly against the fabric of his sleeve as you entered the ballroom.

As you wove through the ton, you let your gaze drift over the gathered company, taking careful note of the ladies in attendance. You had done this many times before, matchmaking for friends and acquaintances alike, but this particular challenge intrigued you more than most.

Zayne was not entirely socially inept, nor was he entirely withdrawn, but there was a guardedness about him. He would need a particular kind of match; someone patient enough to understand his quiet nature or charismatic enough to pull him effortlessly into conversation.

You stole a glance at him. He had not spoken since entering the room, but his emerald eyes flitted across the ballroom, as if cataloging details in his mind. A man accustomed to observing, rather than being observed.

“Are you always this silent, Doctor?” you asked, tilting your head to study him.

He blinked, as though pulled from his own thoughts. “Only when there is little to say.”

“Observation is a useful skill,” you mused. “As is conversation.”

“A skill I have yet to master, I’m afraid.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Then it is fortunate you have me as your guide.”

“And what, precisely, do you intend to guide me toward?”

You smiled, stepping slightly closer, letting the words linger between you for just a moment.

“Perhaps, if you believe in destiny, your soulmate. Or rather, a suitable marriage prospect.”

Zayne was not a man who responded to flattery, nor one easily drawn into idle conversation. He should have dismissed the notion outright, as romantic pursuits were a distraction, an indulgence he had never allowed himself due to the nature of his work. But something in your words, and a glint in your eyes, made his pulse stutter briefly.

“You seem far more interested in speaking with me than surveying prospects,” he remarked, with the slightest hint of amusement in his tone.

“I cannot very well find you a match if I do not first understand the man himself.”

He hummed, considering your words. “An admirable approach. Though I wonder…do all your cases earn such dedicated attention?”

“Only the particularly difficult ones.”

Zayne exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Then I fear I may be your most challenging case yet.”

Undeterred, you lifted your chin. “I do enjoy a challenge, Doctor.”

And with that, you set about proving it.

Over the course of the evening, you introduced him to a variety of eligible ladies, each one possessing qualities you thought might complement his quiet nature.

Miss Callahan was certainly lovely, though you suspected her boundless energy wore Zayne out with his clipped responses. You could practically see him retreating from her overwhelming energy.

Miss Harper had been your next choice. She was sweet and soft spoken, who seemed more suited for Zayne’s temperament. Yet, as their conversation unfolded, you couldn’t help but notice the way she nervously smoothed her skirts, her gaze darting about as if searching for reassurance.

Then there was Lady Fairchild. Intelligent, poised, and confident. She launched into conversation with ease, but her impatience for hesitation was clear. Not that it mattered, Zayne was already meandering backward, preparing his escape.

It became evident, after a handful of introductions, that Zayne was not easily impressed, or perhaps, not interested at all. No matter the charm of his potential matches, he remained politely distant, maneuvering himself toward the quieter edges of the gathering. You found him there, lingering near the terrace, loosening his cravat.

“I take it that none of my carefully selected matches have won your favor?” you teased, stepping beside him.

Zayne exhaled, a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. “They were all… perfectly pleasant.”

“And yet, here you are, standing as far from them as possible.”

“I find prolonged socializing…exhausting. I have never enjoyed being the center of attention.”

Your expression softened. “I suppose I should have considered that before parading you about the ton. My apologies.”

His lips twitched, as if he found something about your words amusing. “You needn’t apologize. I suspect Mr. Xia would have had me subjected to far worse if left to his own devices.”

You burst into laughter and Zayne found himself watching you more closely than he should have. There was something undeniably bright and effervescent about you, particularly in the way you laughed so freely. And yet, when you looked at him, it was not with expectation or disappointment, but with understanding.

You had not dismissed his discomfort or insisted he endure it for the sake of social decorum. Instead, you had acknowledged it.

His reluctance to engage with the others had been genuine, but as the evening wore on, he realized his avoidance had not been due to mere disinterest. It was not conversation he minded, it was who he shared it with.

And somehow, with you, it felt…effortless.

“If I must continue enduring such engagements, I may require more guidance,” he said, leaning in ever so slightly, as if drawing you into a conversation meant only for the two of you.

“Perhaps a bit of gentle coaching?”

“Well, Doctor, if you are willing to put in the effort, I shall gladly offer my expertise.”

Zayne held your gaze a beat longer than necessary, the edges of his lips curling into something almost like a smile. He had never been one for idle conversation, nor for the relentless pursuit of courtship but for you, he found himself willing to make an exception.

Caleb had seen a great many things in his life, but returning home after a long day at the military post to find Dr. Zayne Li standing stiffly outside your front steps, was quickly becoming his favorite source of entertainment.

And, as expected, in true Caleb fashion, he crashed breakfast the very next morning, making himself comfortable at the table. Without so much as a greeting, he reached for a generous serving of plum cake, tearing off a piece as he shot you a knowing smirk.

“I have to ask,” he drawled as he approached, “are you tutoring the poor man or have you taken it upon yourself to personally vet his prospects?”

You rolled your eyes. “I am simply assisting Dr. Li in social etiquette.”

“I’ve never seen Zayne take such a keen interest in socializing before,” he mused, reaching for another bite of cake.

“Strange, don’t you think? He’s always been content with books and yet, here he is, dutifully showing up at your door for lessons.” He propped his chin on his fist, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Interesting, isn’t it?”

Across the table, your mother raised an eyebrow at the exchange but wisely chose to remain silent, sipping her tea.

You ignored Caleb’s relentless teasing, but despite your best efforts, you couldn’t deny that Zayne Li’s presence had become unexpectedly intriguing. What began as mere social lessons had turned into a routine.

Twice in the past week, he had arrived under the guise of refining his social skills. And yet, more often than not, those so-called lessons seemed to transform into long conversations about literature, contemporary issues, and the absurdity of high society’s unwritten rules.

Zayne sat across from you in the drawing room as your supposed lesson on proper introductions unraveled into yet another conversation, this time about the novel that had taken the ton by storm.

"You mean to tell me," you said, shaking your head with amusement, "that you have never read Snowy Serenity?"

"I was not aware it was required reading," he replied, one brow lifting as he leaned back in his chair.

"Dr. Zayne, how are you ever going to capture the attention of ladies if you do not know Snowy Serenity?" you teased, folding your hands in your lap with an air of mock seriousness.

"I was not aware that my success in courtship depended upon my knowledge of serialized fiction."

You gasped in mock offense. "Serialized fiction?" you echoed.

"It is only the most talked-about novel of the season! If you wish to hold a lady’s interest for longer than a dance, you must at least feign some familiarity with it!”

"And I suppose you are offering to educate me on the subject?"

"Naturally." You rose, crossing the room to retrieve your well-worn copy from a small stack of books before placing it in his hands.

“Consider this an essential part of your guidance. If you wish to navigate the intricate social landscape, you must be prepared to discuss this novel moment’s notice.”

“And if I fail to read it?”

“Then you shall never know the joys of a thoroughly engaging conversation with any lady of good standing,” you teased, resuming your seat.

Zayne turned the book over in his hands, his fingers brushing the slightly frayed edges of its cover. It was well-loved, he noted. You had read this more than once. The thought of you lost in its pages, utterly engrossed, made something flicker in his chest.

“If I am to read this,” he said at last, his voice quieter now, “I trust you will be available for…discussion.”

You brightened at the prospect. “Naturally. It is my personal copy, after all. I expect a full report."

He huffed a quiet breath of amusement, shaking his head, but made no effort to refuse the book. As he bid you farewell and descended the steps of your home, a question lingered in his mind, persistent and unresolved.

You were intelligent, well-read, and effortlessly social, qualities that should have made you a sought-after prospect. At seven-and-twenty, you were the same age as him, yet you had not married.

The thought followed him, settling into the quiet corners of his mind.

Why?

“Oh! Doctor Zayne! Before I forget!”

Your voice rang out just as he reached the gate, and Zayne turned to find you rushing past the door, barely able to contain your enthusiasm. You were speaking a mile a minute, laying out your latest plan—the boat races, the ideal setting, the eligible young ladies you were so certain he had to meet.

Zayne stood there listening, but his thoughts had long since drifted from the topic at hand. He wasn’t focused on the event, nor the prospects you were so quick to name.

Instead, his attention was fixed on you.

The way your eyes sparkled when you spoke, so full of life, so passionate about what you believed in. The way your hands fluttered, gesturing animatedly as you painted the picture of the future you were trying to shape for him. And despite your seemingly endless energy, the way you never seemed to tire of trying to help him, trying to guide him toward something you thought he needed, even if he hadn’t asked for it.

But as he watched you, Zayne realized that none of that seemed to matter at that moment. It wasn’t the boat races, nor the eligible ladies, nor the carefully crafted plans that held his attention.

It was the way you believed in everything you did, the way you believed in him, even when he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

⟡

The day of the boat race had arrived, and while the rest of the ton was content to picnic along the riverbanks and observe, you had viewed the event as an excellent opportunity to introduce Zayne to eligible young ladies rather than simply a leisurely afternoon surrounded by the finest families in Linkon society.

It was perfect.

"Now, remember," you began, tapping your fan against your palm as the two of you strolled past clusters of well dressed ladies.

"You may be broody, but only just enough to be intriguing. If you tip too far into outright scowling, they’ll think you despise them rather than merely possessing an air of dark mystery."

Zayne, walking easily beside you, let out a quiet hum, not in protest, but in pure amusement. "And here I thought my mystery was my most appealing quality."

You shot him a knowing look. "It’s positively dreadful for conversation."

"And yet, you seem to enjoy conversing with me just fine," Zayne pointed out.

“I enjoy a great many things, Doctor. You’re simply fortunate to be one of them.”

It was a lighthearted deflection, meant to turn the conversation back in your favor, but the way Zayne’s gaze lingered made your heart stop for a moment.

Ahem. "You must also ask follow up questions," you continued, scanning the gathering until you spotted a promising group of young women beneath a flowery pergola.

"A woman enjoys speaking about herself, but she’ll think you a great bore if you simply grunt and nod. Make an effort, Dr. Zayne. Feign interest, if you must."

“Then shall I practice with you, Miss Hunter?”

“Me?”

"You seem to have very strong opinions on the matter," he said. "If I were to practice my charm, shouldn’t I know what you find interesting?"

You opened your mouth, but no immediate response came to mind. Again, why was he looking at you like that?

Caleb, who had been chaperoning you a few steps behind, let out an exaggerated groan and threw his hands in the air.

"Are you even trying to meet anyone else?"

Zayne, still entirely at ease, turned his head slightly, just enough to acknowledge Caleb’s presence. "I am here, am I not?"

You ignored them both, pressing forward toward the pergola, where a small gathering of young women stood in a semicircle, chatting beneath the shade. This was the perfect setting, the perfect opportunity, so why did you feel suddenly, inexplicably unsettled?

And then you saw her.

"Ah, Miss Hunter. What a pleasant surprise."

Your mouth felt dry. "Lady Qi," you greeted, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. Formerly Lady Evelyn Xander. Now Lady Evelyn Qi.

She looked past you, taking in Zayne at your side, then Caleb a few steps behind.

"Quite the entourage you have today."

Caleb exhaled a dramatic sigh and acknowledged her with an incline of his head. "Lady Qi."

Evelyn let out a soft chuckle before turning back to you. "Are you enjoying the races?"

You tightened your grip on your fan, willing yourself to focus.

"I can’t quite possibly enjoy the day when there is work to be done," you said lightly, though there was an edge of honesty beneath the jest.

"Ever the dutiful matchmaker, I see.” Evelyn waved a hand gracefully. "My husband was keen on attending, so here I am, though I would much rather be at home away from this dreadful heat."

My husband.

The words were spoken so effortlessly, so naturally, that they should not have affected you at all. And yet, they still served as a reminder of a reality that you could have never had with him.

"Rafayel always did have a taste for grand occasions,” you replied sweetly.

"That he does," she chuckled, oblivious or perhaps not. Her gaze flickered over you, sharp and assessing, before she turned her attention elsewhere.

"Oh! But I’m so glad you came when you did, Miss Hunter," she continued smoothly.

"It’s quite the coincidence, really. I heard you’ve been helping a certain doctor navigate Linkon society, and as luck would have it, I happen to know a young lady who is also looking." She turned slightly, gesturing gracefully.

"May I present to you Miss Diana Carter."

Diana Carter was lovely.

Her dark hair was pulled into an elegant chignon and there was a self-assured grace that suggested she knew exactly how others perceived her but had mastered the art of wielding it to her advantage.

She stepped past you offering Zayne a charming smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Zayne."

Zayne inclined his head politely, his gaze steady. "Likewise, Miss Carter."

"Diana is a dear friend," Evelyn continued.

"Well read and quite interested in the medical sciences, if I recall correctly." Her eyes flickered between Zayne and Diana with unmistakable purpose. A perfect match, her expression seemed to say.

"I do believe you both would have much to discuss."

You straightened your shoulders, willing your smile to remain effortless. "Well then," you said lightly, "let’s see just how charming our Doctor can be, shall we?"

Zayne shot you a look, one brow raised as if he found your words amusing, but you ignored it.

“I’ll be off," you said, your voice steady despite the strange unease stirring in your chest.

"My brother-in-law, Gods bless him, has impulsively decided to partake in the races. I shall see you later, Dr. Zayne—er, Dr. Li.”

You turned before you could second guess yourself, your fan tightening in your grip. The moment you took a step away, Caleb fell into step beside you.

And yet, for some inexplicable reason, the ground beneath you felt unsteady. You swallowed, forcing yourself to breathe evenly. There was no reason, no reason at all, for the uneasiness creeping through your chest, the sudden weight pressing against your ribs.

You had brought Zayne here for this exact purpose. To meet eligible young women. To find someone who suited him. And Miss Diana Carter suited him. She was beautiful, poised, intelligent—exactly the sort of woman who would compliment him in every way. Exactly the sort of woman he should be drawn to.

So why did it feel as if the air had become too thin?

⟡

You inhaled sharply, shifting your gaze to the water where the rowers were making their final preparations. The river glistened under the afternoon sun, its gentle ripples at odds with the sudden unease pressing against your ribs.

“You’re frowning,” your sister pointed out.

"It’s nothing," you said, adjusting your posture. "I’ve just been experiencing tightness due to my corset."

It wasn’t entirely a lie. The stiff boning pressed insistently against your ribs, but that wasn’t what had your chest aching in a way you couldn’t quite place.

Your sister hummed knowingly, but whether she believed you or not was unclear. "I did warn you not to have it laced so tightly."

"It isn't too tight," you argued, even as you shifted uncomfortably.

The starting horn sounded, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Rowers strained their muscles under the sun as they surged forward. A sharp cry rose from the banks as one boat veered too close to another, its occupants scrambling to correct course before they lost precious seconds.

You joined in, clapping along with the rest of them, willing yourself to be swept up in the excitement.

And yet the tightness in your chest remained.

You told yourself it was your corset.

And if you kept telling yourself that, perhaps you would believe it.

The excitement from the boat race buzzed through the air. A few yards away, spectators were still clapping and calling out congratulations as the rowers made their way back onto shore. And at the center of it all, grinning like a man who had defied fate itself, was Sylus.

He stood victorious on the riverbank, drenched from head to toe, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his shirt clinging to him in a way that mortified your sister. From this distance, Zayne could see your family gathered around Sylus, their faces alight with pride and celebration.

"Dr. Li?"

"My apologies," he said smoothly, forcing his attention back to his companion. "You were saying?"

"Only that I find medicine to be a rather fascinating subject."

"And what is it about medicine that fascinates you, Miss Carter?"

"The intricacies of it, I suppose. How the body is both fragile and resilient all at once. My father has quite the library on the subject. I've read most of his books on anatomy."

Zayne's brow lifted faintly. That was not the sort of answer he had expected.

"You've read on anatomy?"

"Is that so surprising?" Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Only that most ladies I know would find such books rather...clinical."

"I find them practical. There’s a comfort in understanding how things work, don’t you think?"

Zayne's lips twitched despite himself. Practical. A word he had always valued. A word he had always found reassuring. And yet, her answer did nothing to ease the inexplicable tightness in his chest.

Diana Carter was precisely the kind of woman he ought to be courting. Composed, with a beauty that would have turned heads in any drawing room. If he had met her under different circumstances, he might have genuinely enjoyed this promenade.

Despite his best efforts, his gaze drifted, once again, across the pond, where the soft hum of conversation and laughter floated through the air. He caught a glimpse of you, standing beneath the shade of a willow tree, your fingers absently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It was an unremarkable gesture, one you must have done countless times before, and yet—

He looked away quickly, but not quickly enough.

"You seem distracted, Dr. Li," Diana observed lightly.

Zayne’s gaze snapped back to her, his posture stiffening. For a moment, he was certain she had caught him staring, certain she could see straight through him.

He knew better than to let his attention drift. You had reminded him, more than once that presence mattered, that eye contact and genuine engagement were the keys to making an impression.

“No one likes a man who appears disinterested, Dr. Zayne. Even if you are brooding, you must at least be brooding with intent.”

"My apologies," he said again, his voice steady. "It’s the heat, I expect."

"Perhaps a respite from the sun is in order, then," she suggested.

"My mother often hosts small gatherings at our estate. Nothing as grand as this, of course, but I daresay a cup of tea and a shaded veranda would be far more agreeable than enduring this dreadful afternoon heat."

It was an invitation. One that any man with sense would accept.

It wasn’t as if he had any other engagement. It wasn’t as if he had any reason to refuse. This was precisely why he had come today, to meet an eligible young woman, to entertain the very idea of courtship. To prove that he was capable of doing so.

"That is generous of you, Miss Carter," he said at last, his words carefully measured.

"I would be honored."

Across the pond, you caught sight of Zayne and Diana, promenading at an easy, unhurried pace. The sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, making the world around them seem otherworldly. They looked comfortable together.

Zayne, walked beside her, listening attentively, and you can tell he was engaging based off of Diana’s reactions. It was everything you had wanted for him, everything you had planned.

A slow breath left your lips. You were proud of this. It was, after all, one of your greatest achievements to date. Hadn’t you orchestrated this from the start? Hadn’t you taken Zayne under your wing, guiding him through Linkon society so he might find a match precisely like Miss Carter?

And perhaps, perhaps you could give Evelyn Qi some credit for her introduction, though you’d rather not.

This was the logical conclusion of all your efforts. The payday was to be immaculate, your reputation as the greatest matchmaker in all of Linkon would spread, and you would graciously accept your accolades with a modest smile. Future generations would tell tales of your legendary ability to pair the most impossible of spinsters. A lifetime of smug satisfaction awaited—

Oh.

Why did it suddenly feel as though the air had been squeezed from your lungs?

The pain had started the moment you stepped away from the pergola. It was irrational and inexplicable, a quiet but insistent ache you couldn't name. You rolled your shoulders, as if the movement might shake off the sensation. It was the weather, surely. The heat. The wretched afternoon sun.

"Are you unwell?" your sister asked, as soon she caught sight of the way your fingers trembled against your bodice.

"Just a touch of discomfort," you reassured her, forcing a steady breath. "It’s nothing serious.”

Still, you could see the doubt in her eyes, the way her lips pressed together in a firm line. You had never been the fragile sort, nor one to complain of ailments without reason.

"There’s no sense in you lingering if you’re not feeling well," your sister said firmly. "I’ll have Sylus fetch the footman and have them bring the carriage around."

You opened your mouth to protest, to insist that you were more than capable of enduring the rest of the afternoon, but the words faltered. The excitement of the boat race suddenly felt distant, like you were standing behind some invisible barrier, watching it unfold rather than being a part of it.

Reluctantly, you nodded, lifting your skirts as you stepped away from the shaded picnic area toward the waiting carriage. With each step, a strange sort of exhaustion settled over you, as if the very act of walking was more effort than it should have been.

Zayne sat in the sitting room of the Carter Estate, his fingers resting lightly on the delicate porcelain cup before him. Mrs. Carter, seated across from him, observed him with polite curiosity, her sharp eyes missing nothing.

"It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dr. Li," she said, stirring a lump of sugar into her tea.

"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Carter. Your home is…exquisite.”

Mrs. Carter hummed, clearly measuring the sincerity of his words.

“Don’t overdo it,” you had instructed. “A well-placed compliment, a touch of charm, but never flattery for flattery’s sake. The moment they sense you’re pandering, you’re done for.”

"I imagine it must be the envy of many,” he continued.

Mrs. Carter sniffed, clearly pleased. "We do take pride in maintaining a certain standard."

"When in doubt, appeal to their sense of status. Mamas like to believe they’ve built something worth admiring. Recognize that, and they’ll be much more inclined to approve of you."

Mrs. Carter continued, "I understand you have traveled quite a bit. Medicine must keep you rather busy."

"It does," Zayne admitted, setting his cup down.

"Chansia, in particular, was fascinating—so much to learn from their medical practices. Their use of herbal remedies alongside surgical techniques is something I hope to integrate into—"

He stopped himself just in time.

"Never let them think you are too busy for their daughters," your voice echoed in his mind, teasing yet firm. "A man too devoted to his work is a man who will neglect his wife."

Zayne cleared his throat, smoothly shifting gears. "But I’ve always found time for good company." He glanced at Diana with an easy smile.

"After all, what is life without moments of leisure?"

Mrs. Carter’s expression softened just a fraction and for a moment, he allowed himself to revel in the small victory.

Then, the door opened.

A footman stepped inside, bowing slightly before addressing them. "Doctor Li, Mr. Xia has arrived with urgent news."

Zayne barely had time to process the words before Caleb appeared behind the servant, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with something bordering on urgency.

"Zayne!"

He turned sharply at the sound of his name.

"Y/N isn’t well," Caleb said, breathless.

The cup in Zayne’s hand stilled, and his pulse quickened. His mind raced ahead, already picturing the worst.

"Excuse me," he said curtly.

Without a second thought, Zayne strode past them to the waiting carriage, all thoughts of charming Mrs. Carter forgotten.

"How bad is it?" His tone was tinged with something Caleb rarely heard from him—genuine concern.

Caleb hesitated, waving a vague hand. "Oh, well, she said it wasn’t serious, but she looked rather pale, for all we know she could be on death’s door—"

Zayne didn’t wait for the reassurance. He was already shutting the carriage door. Fine or not, he needed to see you for himself.

By the time he arrived at the Hunter estate, his mind had already conjured the worst possible scenarios. He barely waited for the footman to announce him before striding inside.

"Where is she?" he asked, his voice clipped with urgency.

A maid blinked up at him, startled. "Miss Y/N? She’s in the drawing room, Doctor. Shall I—"

Zayne didn’t wait. He was already moving.

But when he stepped into the parlor, expecting to find you pale and frail, perhaps even draped dramatically across a chaise in some near-fainting state, what he found instead was…

You.

Perfectly upright. Reclining comfortably with a book in hand, looking for all the world as if you hadn’t just been dying an hour ago. A tea service sat on the table beside you, steam curling gently from the delicate porcelain cup.

Zayne’s jaw tightened.

You looked up at his arrival, blinking as if surprised to see him. "Zayne?"

"Miss Hunter," he greeted flatly, arms crossed. His gaze swept over you, taking in your relaxed posture, the untouched plate of pastries, the distinct lack of impending doom.

"You seem…remarkably well for someone allegedly suffering from chest pains."

You were confused. Yes, you were experiencing chest pains, but you didn’t appreciate the accusatory tone in his voice.

"I was unwell," you said, sitting up straighter. "But a moment of rest, and I’m quite recovered."

"Recovered," Zayne repeated dryly.

"Forgive me for the misunderstanding. Caleb made it sound as though you were at death’s door. I thought I was rushing to your bedside, not intruding on tea."

"That menace.”

Muttering curses at Caleb under your breath, you barely noticed Zayne step closer, until he knelt beside you without a word, his fingers brushing your wrist, pressing gently against your skin. Your breath hitched.

"You don't need to—"

"Be still," he interrupted, his voice softer now, more like a request than a command. His thumb moved in slow, methodical circles as he counted your pulse, his brows furrowing slightly in concentration.

"I'm not dying, you know," you pointed out.

"No," he agreed. "But humor me."

Your heart was beating perfectly fine, perhaps a little quicker now that his hand was still wrapped around yours, but that was neither here nor there. After a moment, he seemed satisfied, releasing you with a quiet hum.

"Your pulse is steady. Did you experience other symptoms?”

Your lips parted, but for a second, you forgot what you were going to say. Zayne was close, closer than he had any reason to be. The afternoon light cast a soft glow over his sharp features, highlighting the curve of his cheekbone, the green of his eyes that seemed to search for something unseen. His fingers, warm and sure, lingered just a moment longer than necessary against your wrist before he finally released you.

Your heart fluttered.

You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself. “It was just a bit of tightness in my chest,” you admitted.

“I did feel like I was on uneven ground.”

Zayne nodded, listening intently.

“When did these symptoms begin?”

You were not going to tell him the tightness in your chest had started the moment you left him with Diana Carter. That would be mortifying. Unacceptable. A completely ridiculous thing to admit.

“Well,” you began carefully, lifting your teacup with studied ease. “It’s difficult to say. Perhaps when I was with my sister, although the weather certainly didn’t help…”

You trailed off, suddenly hyper aware of how closely he was watching you. He was not just listening, but truly paying attention. His posture was composed yet open, his expression unreadable save for the faint crease in his brow.

Had he always looked at you like this?

And then it struck you. This was all the etiquette you had painstakingly drilled into him. The art of attentiveness, the careful balance of presence without intrusion. Every lesson, every refinement of social grace, now seamlessly woven into his demeanor.

Yet somehow, it felt…different. It was intimate.

Zayne exhaled, his sharp gaze assessing you one last time before leaning back slightly. “It doesn’t seem serious. I’d prescribe rest,” he said firmly.

“And if the pain persists, you’ll let me know.”

You hummed, lifting your teacup to your lips. “Doctor’s orders?”

“Precisely.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only when you tilted your head, watching him with quiet curiosity.

“How was your promenade with Miss Carter?”

“She invited me for tea.” He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly before flicking back to yours.

You hummed, keeping your expression carefully neutral. “And yet, here you are. How fortunate for me.”

It wasn’t, really. Or maybe it was, but you didn’t particularly feel like acknowledging the thought of him accepting her invitation.

Zayne smirked. “Yes, well I was in the middle of charming her mother, but I swore an oath as a physician to prioritize my patient’s well being. Besides,” He reached for a macaron, “it would be a terrible waste to leave these unattended.”

You scoffed, plucking a pastry from the tray. “How very selfless of you.”

“I do my best.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a bite before adding, “You realize, of course, that you now owe Miss Carter an apology for abandoning her.”

Zayne made a vague noise of acknowledgement, though his attention remained fixed on the spread before him rather than the prospect of penning an apology.

“Zayne.”

He glanced up, expression utterly unrepentant. “I’ll do it later.”

“You will write to her.”

“Of course.” He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully before adding, “Eventually.”

⟡

“I see you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Miss Hunter,” Caleb remarked, chalking the tip of his cue stick before lining up his next shot.

He had grown curious, given Zayne’s frequent visits to your home over the past few weeks since your supposed health scare. For a man who had always preferred solitude, Zayne now seemed unusually preoccupied with your wellbeing, checking in, ensuring you were resting properly, lingering even when there was no real reason to stay.

“I noticed you have a rather impractical weakness, Dr. Zayne.” You tapped a finger against the table as you watched him pick up another card.

Zayne raised a brow, selecting his next move with careful precision. “Do I?”

“Indeed. You have an undeniable penchant for sweets.”

“That is hardly a weakness.”

“Perhaps not in the medical sense, but it is rather unbecoming for a man of your supposed discipline.” You gestured toward the plate of biscuits beside him.

“I have seen you reach for those at least three times.”

He picked one up without breaking eye contact. “Four,” he corrected before taking a bite.

You smirked, shifting a card between your fingers. “A man of science you may be, but if a lady believes you to be as sweet as the confections you so adore, she may be more inclined to consider you as a suitor.”

“So you believe an excess of sugar may enhance my marital prospects?”

“Precisely.” You placed a card down with confidence.

“A bit of sweetness never hurt anyone.”

“And what of you, Miss Hunter?” He leaned in, plucking a card from the pile.

“Are you likewise swayed by sweetness?”

You swallowed, fingers tightening ever so slightly around your own hand of cards. “I suppose I do not mind it. Though, truthfully, I much prefer sincerity to sweetness. Sweets are fleeting. Sincerity however, lingers.”

As if drawn forward by an unseen force, he shifted closer. Just slightly at first with his forearms resting on the table. His fingers toyed idly with a card but his eyes never left yours.

“In your expert opinion as a matchmaker, Miss Hunter, would you say that my affections are merely confectionary…or something more enduring?”

Your pulse quickened as Zayne’s gaze flickered downward, perhaps to your lips, or to the card still between your fingers. Without thinking, you leaned in as well, only enough to test the boundaries of his bluff. His lips parted as if he might say something, but he didn’t.

“I suppose I shall have to keep playing to find out.”

“She needs consistent monitoring. Symptoms of the heart can be unpredictable,” Zayne replied, carefully angling his cue.

He took his shot, the ball striking with precision, but Caleb, ever persistent, was not so easily shaken.

“I suppose that’s why you’ve spent more time with her than entertaining potential matches. A Miss Diana Carter, perhaps?”

Zayne’s jaw tightened. He had, in fact, spent several afternoons at the Carter estate, dutifully fulfilling the social obligations expected of a man in his position. Diana was charming, intelligent, and had a sharp wit that could keep up with him, yet��he hesitated.

“If you’re implying something, Caleb, I assure you, your efforts are wasted.”

“Of course, of course,” Caleb drawled, his smirk deepening.

“I’d never dare suggest that the esteemed Dr. Zayne Li is growing fond of a certain matchmaking lady.”

Zayne turned his attention back to the game, ignoring him but Caleb didn’t miss the telltale pink dusting the tips of his ears.

“You know,” he continued, his tone almost idle, “she was courted once.”

Zayne’s grip on his cue stick tightened, his knuckles going briefly taut before he forced them to relax. He tilted his head slightly, feigning mild curiosity.

“Is that so?”

“Lord Rafayel Qi,” Caleb supplied, taking his shot.

The billiard balls scattered with a sharp crack, but he took his time straightening, watching Zayne’s reaction. A flicker of something passed over his face. Annoyance? Interest? Perhaps both.

“Shame, really,” Caleb went on, retrieving his glass and swirling the amber liquid inside. “They were quite taken with each other.”

He took a slow sip, letting the words settle as Zayne lined up his next shot. Caleb didn’t need to see his face to know he had struck a nerve, from the slight flex of his fingers to the subtle tightening of his jaw.

“He did not marry her?”

Caleb smirked behind his glass.

“No,” he drawled. “Rafayel’s family had matched him with Lady Evelyn Xander.”

The colonel sighed, shaking his head. “A tragedy, really. A man letting duty dictate his course. A noble sacrifice, some might say.”

Zayne didn’t respond. He took his next shot with just a bit too much force, the cue ball ricocheting hard off the edge.

“I hear the Qi’s will be hosting pall mall on their grounds in a few days,” Caleb remarked, idly spinning his cue stick between his fingers.

“Will you be inviting Miss Carter?”

Zayne made a vague noise of acknowledgement but said nothing. His focus had drifted elsewhere.

“Or,” Caleb continued, watching him closely, “perhaps Miss Hunter would be the more suitable choice? She’s quite ruthless.”

The Qi estate and its sprawling grounds stretch as far as the eye could see. Bursts of vibrant flora painted the landscape in splashes of color, dotting the numerous pathways and fountains that were hidden about the estate.

Zayne stepped forward, rolling his shoulders back as he aligned himself with the ball. With a smooth and precise swing, he struck the ball cleanly and it sailed through the wicket, drawing murmurs of approval from the onlookers.

You hadn't expected him to be this athletic, but the fluidity of his movements and the quiet confidence in his stance made it clear—he was no stranger to competition.

“With your luck, Dr. Zayne, I’m not worried about losing this match at all,” you grinned.

Zayne smirked and he leaned in just slightly, “I prefer to think of it as skill.”

“Of course, you’re naturally gifted in all that you do.”

“I think my performance speaks for itself,” he teased, eyes gleaming with a playful challenge.

There was something undeniably charming about the way he said it. It was self-assured but not arrogant, teasing but entirely sincere.

You stood beside Zayne, resting your mallet over your shoulder. The day after his billiards game with Caleb, he had arrived at your home with spring in his step.

“I hear you’re quite skilled at pall mall.”

You glanced up from your book, arching a brow. “Did Caleb tell you that?”

Zayne said nothing, but the faint flush on his cheeks was enough. You closed your book slowly, watching him. He was not a man prone to idle conversation or casual invitations, which made his next words all the more intriguing.

“Do you have any plans this Friday afternoon?”

“No. Why?”

His fingers twitched at his side before he clasped them behind his back, as if reining himself in. “Would you care to join me for pall mall?”

A slow smile spread across your lips, excitement bubbling to the surface. Before he could say another word, you were already straightening up.

“Say no more, Doctor,” you replied, brimming with enthusiasm.

As the match continued, you happened to glance across the lawn and spotted a lone figure standing off to the side. Lord Xavier Shen of Philos, with his golden hair and striking blue eyes, looked entirely unbothered by his solitude, though he seemed more likely to drift into a nap than to seek out company.

On a whim, you called out, “Lord Shen, have you any interest in pall mall?”

Xavier blinked slowly, as if processing your words took a considerable effort. Then, after a beat, he ambled forward.

“I suppose it would be an amusing way to pass the time,” he mused, his voice light and unhurried.

Caleb gave you an incredulous look but said nothing as Xavier took his place among your party, accepting a mallet.

Xavier Shen was heralded throughout the ton for his beauty. Despite his delicate stature and tendency to drift off to sleep in the most unexpected places, which often led his mother to fuss over him, there was an undeniable boldness beneath his refined exterior.

With a slow blink, Xavier lined up his shot, looking more like he might nod off than make a proper swing. Then he struck the ball with unexpected force. The resounding crack echoed across the lawn as the ball launched into the air, soaring far past the intended wicket.

A stunned silence fell over the gathering as heads turned, tracking the ball’s trajectory as it disappeared into the distant shrubbery. A faint thunk followed by the startled squawk of a bird confirmed that the ball had, indeed, landed somewhere it absolutely should not have.

“By jove! That was magnificent, Lord Shen!” someone applauded.

“Incredible!” another cheered.

Caleb shot you and Zayne a smug look, rocking back on his heels. “Well, well. It seems I’ve been blessed with a secret weapon.”

For the first time since the match began, victory actually felt within reach. He had expected Xavier to be more of a decorative presence than an asset, but after that display of sheer power, Caleb could practically taste the win in this round.

You grimaced, adjusting your grip on the mallet as you lined up for your turn. “That was well beyond the bounds of fair play!”

Caleb only smirked, but before you could take your shot, the sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention.

“Dr. Li.”

Your shoulders stiffened, grip tightening around the mallet as you turned to see Diana striding toward your party. She was effortlessly composed, as always, her dark hair neatly tucked beneath her bonnet, a parasol resting elegantly in her hand. She looked as if she had stepped out of a world far more dignified than this scrappy game of pall mall.

From the corner of your eye, you caught how Zayne turned fully to greet her, softening just slightly. A small smile tugged at his lips, polite, but warm.

“Miss Carter.”

Something in your chest tightened.

With a sharp exhale, you turned back to line up your shot, pouring every ounce of whatever was churning inside you into a single, decisive swing. You barely had time to register the impact before the ball went flying, landing completely out of bounds.

“Oh, fuck me,” you hissed.

Caleb let out a bark of laughter. “Well, that’s one way to show off.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face, but Xavier only let out an impressed whistle.

“You’ve made the game much more interesting, Miss Hunter.”

You shot him a dry look. “You flatter me, my lord.”

“Only when deserved,” Xavier replied smoothly, inclining his head. “Shall we?”

Zayne, still lingering behind with Diana, observed as you effortlessly fell into step with Lord Shen, the two of you exchanging lighthearted words while making your way to the next wicket.

It was, in truth, rather unfair how instinctively you understood others, how effortlessly you commanded attention without the slightest attempt. Conversation seemed to come to you as easily as breathing, as though you belonged everywhere and nowhere all at once.

And yet, for some reason, it bothered him more than it should.

“Doctor,” Diana drew him from his thoughts. “I must introduce you to Lord Rafayel Qi. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Zayne stilled, his brow furrowing slightly at the name.

Lord Rafayel Qi. The man who once held your heart. Caleb had mentioned him once before, but now, the prospect of finally meeting him stirred something unexpectedly sharp in his chest.

What kind of man had once held your affections? What did he have that had drawn you in so completely?

Before Zayne could so much as nod, she whisked him forward. You barely registered Xavier speaking at your side, your attention fixed on Diana leading Zayne toward Rafayel, her arm still linked with his, drawing him seamlessly into her world.

Rafayel stood tall, every bit the man you had once loved, his presence commanding and impossible to ignore. Dressed impeccably, he guided his wife with a hand resting lightly at the small of her back. Evelyn, for her part, maintained her cool composure as she greeted acquaintances and guests.

She was beaming as she made the introductions, her enthusiasm unyielding. Zayne, composed as ever, offered a polite nod in greeting, his expression unreadable as he met your former paramour’s gaze.

And for some reason, it bothered you.

But it shouldn’t. This was the role you were meant to play, to ensure that Zayne, Diana, and all the unmarried of Linkon society, found their happiness.

Yet that same sharp feeling took root in your chest, the same one that had nearly consumed you at the boat races. It crept in, settling deep in the hollow of your ribs. Your fingers curled against the fabric of your skirts, grasping for an anchor, but the world beneath your feet felt unsteady.

Xavier’s eyes narrowed with concern as you clutched your chest. “Miss Hunter?”

“If you’ll excuse me, my lord,” you forced a small smile as you turned, but before you could step away, he moved slightly closer, lowering his voice.

“Are you quite well? Perhaps I should escort you—”

“No,” you interjected quickly. The tightness in your chest sharpened, but you swallowed it down, inhaling sharply, willing the ache to subside.

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted, though the words felt empty even to you.

“Truly.”

⟡

As the weeks passed, Zayne saw you less.

At first, it was easy to dismiss. You were busy, preoccupied with your work. This was, after all, the height of the season. It made sense that you would be swept up in a whirlwind of events and introductions. And yet, as your absence stretched on, something settled uneasily in his chest, a quiet, creeping feeling he dared not name.

“You haven’t insulted me once since I sat down. I’m growing concerned,” Caleb said, feigning heartbreak as he lounged in the chair opposite Zayne.

Zayne barely glanced up, stirring his tea absentmindedly. “Must you always assume the worst?”

“When it comes to you? Yes.”

Caleb studied him for a long moment, his gaze narrowing slightly, as though piecing together a puzzle he’d been turning over in his mind. After a few seconds of silence, he leaned back in his chair, the faintest smile playing at his lips.

“You’re dissociating. And I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with a certain matchmaker.”

The sudden flush of color in Zayne’s cheeks was all the confirmation Caleb needed. He exhaled sharply, setting his spoon down with a quiet clink.

“That is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Caleb mused, arching a brow. “I must say, your visits to her home have been less frequent these days. Perhaps it has something to do with Y/N being sent away?”

Zayne froze, his entire body going stiff.

“Sent away?”

Caleb hesitated, suddenly realizing his mistake. “It’s not—” He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat.

“It’s not as dire as you seem to think. Her family physician insisted she stay with her sister.”

His stomach twisted. He had been careful, so careful, to keep his distance. To remind himself that you were a professional connection, nothing more. And yet, the idea that you had been unwell, that you had been sent away, alone, without him even knowing, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“She was ill and no one thought to tell me?”

Caleb shifted uncomfortably. “It wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t what?” Zayne snapped. “Any of my concern?”

Caleb exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Zayne—” He stopped himself, reconsidering his next words.

“Are you not about to move forward with formally courting Diana Carter?”

Zayne didn’t respond right away.

He should have nodded, should have sighed in that resigned way men did when discussing matters of duty. He should have confirmed that yes, of course, he was prepared to court Diana Carter formally.

It was expected after all, given all of the time you’ve spent tutoring him just so that he could charm Diana and her family. But instead of thinking about Diana Carter, all Zayne could picture was you.

Were you being tended to? Was someone there to care for you, to ease whatever ailment had sent you away? His attention snapped back to Caleb as he noticed the pause in the conversation.

Caleb’s brow furrowed, his fingers nervously tapping on his glass, his eyes avoiding Zayne’s gaze.

Zayne’s impatience grew. "Where is she? Where was she sent?"

Caleb shifted uncomfortably, clearly reluctant to answer, but Zayne wasn’t giving him an option.

“Does it matter? She’s taking time for herself. Which, frankly, she deserves.”

“Caleb.”

Zayne could feel his patience fraying.

Caleb groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re impossible, you know that?” He muttered something under his breath before finally revealing your location.

“Whitesand Bay.”

That night, you rushed home, your heart pounding, not from exertion, but from something far more insidious. A tight, unrelenting pain had you clenching your chest, while your fingers tingled uselessly at your sides. You tried to steady yourself, but your legs wobbled beneath you.

Your mother noticed first. The moment she saw you gripping the doorway for balance, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps, she was at your side, calling for the servants, demanding water, a chair, anything to steady you.

Which was how you found yourself subjected to Dr. Ulysses’ diagnosis of emotional duress.

A statement that, of course, sent your parents into a flurry of panic.

“What does that mean?” your mother cried. “Is she dying?”

“It means,” he said, with the patience of a weary saint, “that she requires a change of scenery. I suggest she take residence with your other daughter at once.”

And so, you had been unceremoniously sent off to your sister’s estate in Whitesand Bay, where the seaside was supposed to heal whatever affliction had taken hold of you.

Yet, despite the distance, the whispers of the ton still found their way to you. You tried to ignore them, retreating into the quiet of your own mind, willing the words away as if sheer force alone could make them untrue.

"Dr. Li is planning to return to Bloomshore! And Miss Carter has been seen in his company so often. Surely she’ll be going with him?"

"It’s only natural that a proposal would follow!"

And now, here you were, lying motionless on the floor of your sister’s drawing room, staring blankly at the ceiling, mourning a fate that had not yet come to pass, but one that felt inevitable.

“What are you doing?”

“Wasting away.”

“Care for a pillow?” Sylus chimed in from the doorway. Your sister shot her husband a withering glare before turning back to you.

“You cannot possibly lie there forever.”

“Dr. Ulysses recommended I take residence here and I am doing just that.”

She sighed, moving to sit on the settee beside you. “For someone who insists on matchmaking others, you are alarmingly terrible at managing your own affairs.”

You had always maintained a fine line between yourself and your clients. It was strictly professional, nothing more. You had spent years matchmaking, priding yourself on identifying the subtlest signs of romantic inclination in others.

But now?

Now you were beginning to question your own sanity.

Perhaps it was the relentless pressure of your work and the constant need to anticipate emotions before they were even felt.

Perhaps it was exhaustion, making you see things that weren’t there. That had to be it.

And yet, despite the demands of your job, at the center of all these expectations and obligations was a certain doctor.

He was intelligent, perceptive, and shy, not cold, as so many wrongly assumed. He was measured and thoughtful, with a dry wit that caught you off guard and lingered long after a conversation had ended.

Perhaps you had grown accustomed to his attention. To the way his gaze always seemed to seek yours in a crowded room. You had spent so much time considering who would be a good match for him that you had never stopped to consider what it might feel like to watch him be matched.

“If you’re so keen on finding something to do,” Sylus remarked, far too amused for your liking, “perhaps responding to a letter from Lord Shen may be in order.”

You sat up, furrowing your brow. “Xavier?”

The maid approached, placing the letter in Sylus’s hand before you rose up from the depths of the floor and snatched it from him. Ignoring his protest, you unfolded the letter and began to read aloud:

Dear Miss Hunter,

I hope this letter finds you in better health.

My mother, by way of your mother, has informed me that you are recuperating in Whitesand Bay. I imagine the sea air must be a welcome change, though I confess, I have never spent much time by the coast myself.

I will be passing through Whitesand Bay on my way to Philos to visit my grandfather. Is it true that the seafood is as remarkable as people claim? I have heard outrageous tales of oysters the size of one’s head.

Wishing you a swift recovery.

“You’ve made a little friend,” Sylus cooed.

You shot him a look, tucking Xavier’s letter against your palm. “I simply invited him to join our party at pall mall. The man was standing off to the side on his own.”

“One would suspect they were avoiding him for a reason. Perhaps they fear his mother’s wrath,” your sister quipped.

“Lady Miranda of Philos could strike fear into anyone’s heart.”

You hummed, considering the thought. Xavier’s mother was indeed an imposing woman, it was no wonder her son found himself on the fringes of society, few were willing to risk her displeasure.

You hesitated, fingers grazing the edges of the letter. “I suppose I will write to him,” you admitted.

“It was kind of him to reach out.”

As you returned to your room with Xavier’s letter in hand, you sat at your writing desk and smoothed out a fresh sheet of parchment. But as you dipped your pen into the inkwell, another thought crept in, unbidden.

Zayne.

You froze for a moment, your hand hovering above the parchment. It was for the best that you didn’t entertain such notions. He was a busy man bound to his job and future bride. And you...you were merely his matchmaker. A professional connection. Nothing more.

With a steady hand, you began writing, but the weight of Zayne’s presence lingered in your chest.

Part 2

#zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lads zayne x reader #regency au #love and deepspace x reader #l&ds x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace #lads zayne #li shen #lads #lnds zayne #Zayne #zayne fluff #idiots to lovers

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circumference-pie · 3 months ago

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琅琊榜 | Langya List, Published Ch. 68

The published version of Chapter 68 in the novel added a confrontation between Mei Changsu and Xiao Xuan that's reminiscent of the one in the drama but is absent in the web version (Chapters 172 to 173 on the web). Below is a complete translation of the published Chapter 68, with text unique to new version in blue.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Black text: same as the webnovel, translated by Dawn at langyanirvana.wordpress.com. Blue text: unique to published version, translation mine.

In the split second after the Crown Prince made his stand clear, it was as if the wind blew through a field of wheat. The rest of the court officials who had decided to wait and see immediately bowed down one after another in succession, clamoring the two words, “I second”. After a while, even the timidly cowering Prince Xu and Prince Huai ventured to mumble something very softly as they joined those assembled in protest at the steps.By now, the entire hall was assembled in protest, except the one guest official, who observed all these proceedings with eyes that were clear and cold as ice.

If it had been just an assembly of court officials causing a commotion, the Liang Emperor was confident of suppressing them, but confronted in that moment with Xiao Jingyan’s fiercely intense gaze, he began to feel a little flustered.

Because he understood this son’s feelings towards Prince Qi and the Lin clan. Back then, although he was severely disadvantaged, he totally disregarded the consequences and argued fiercely for them. Now that irrefutable evidence had emerged, Xiao Jingyan would naturally not let it go.

If he didn’t restrain this son, he wouldn’t be able to keep the presently tumultuous situation in court under control. But after some consideration, he suddenly realized that he no longer had any real power in his hands now, to control and suppress a Crown Prince who had been supervising the country with outstanding achievements.

It's not that the emperor wasn't moved by the facts Princess Liyang just revealed. He was also shaken, he was also stunned, but his mean, chilly nature and ruler's instincts quickly rose up. He started to realize the damage overturning the case would do to his reputation and authority, and with horror he also started to realize that Xiao Jingyan's power had already grown out of his control. The Crown Prince who he had personally raised up -- his unyielding attitude at this moment, coupled with the support the court officials gave him -- these caused the emperor to feel shocked and unable to accept the situation. So he gritted his teeth and let his eyes roam over the hall, trying to find some support.

Old court officials, new court officials, the imperial family, the harem…he couldn’t find what he was looking for in any one of their faces. Not even the gentle and sweet-tempered Consort Jing, whose eyes were presently so bright he couldn’t bear to look at them.

In all his decades as the supreme ruler and absolute monarch, the Liang Emperor had never felt truly alone and helpless until that moment. What’s even more important, he could no longer override all objections with force and cruelty as he did back then.

"According to this letter, the main conspirators were Xie Yu and Xia Jiang and no one else. Now one is dead and the other on the run. What can we hope to achieve with the perpetrators absent? Why don't we wait until Xia Jiang is captured, and then we'll see…" The Liang emperor had thought for a long while, and now he argued this last excuse in a soft, humble voice. But almost as soon as he finished speaking, Cai Quan tore this last resort to pieces in his uncommonly piercing voice.

"I wish to inform Your Majesty…Xia Jiang has already been returned. The summary I presented to Your Majesty yesterday reported this. Surely Your Majesty hasn't forgotten?"

It wasn't that the emperor had forgotten; it was that he hadn't looked at all. Upon suddenly hearing this news, his whole face immediately took on a greenish tinge.

After a period of uproar, the hall gradually quietened, but the quiet carried with it a sort of silent power that made the Emperor feel even more pressured compared to the earlier chaos. Because all present were no longer behaving impulsively or simply following the crowd, but were now calm-headed. They all continued to stand in place, showing no sign of retreating.

The Liang Emperor knew that now that matters have come to this, it didn’t matter how long they remained in stalemate, there could only be one outcome.

“I….allow the ministers to present a memorial….”

The old Emperor spat these few words out weakly. Xiao Jingyan suddenly felt his heart surge, but he immediately suppressed it and didn’t reveal anything. Instead, he gave Cai Quan a quick glance.

“Since Your Majesty has approved the reinvestigation of the Chiyan case, would Your Majesty also like to appoint someone to preside over the reinvestigation?” asked the shangshu of the Ministry of Justice as he bowed respectfully.

“I won’t discuss matters of the court now,” declined the Liang Emperor softly, “….the presiding judge will be decided another day.”

“Your Majesty, this is a serious matter and should not be delayed. Since matters have already come to a head, why postpone it?” said the Zhongshu Ling Liu Cheng in response, “This old minister thought it over. Selecting the presiding judge is no small matter. He must be a person of good moral standing and reputation, loyal, upright and impartial. He must also be astute and meticulous. I’m afraid it would be difficult to find all these qualities in one person, so perhaps it would be best to appoint a few presiding judges to conduct a joint reinvestigation.”

“Liu daren is right,” said Shen Zhui immediately. “Your servant proposes Prince Ji.”

“Your servant proposes Marquis Yan!” said Mu Qing loudly as before.

Faced with all these proposals, the Liang Emperor squeezed his eyes shut. Actually, it no longer mattered who would be presiding judge. As long as Xiao Jingyan remained, the outcome of the reinvestigation of the Chiyan case was clear. Even if he himself was the imperial throne, he no longer had the power to prevent this. Prince Ji, Marquis Yan and the Senior Official of the Imperial Court of Justice, Ye Shizhen received the most votes for the role of presiding judge. Feeling the fatigue suddenly surge in his heart, the Liang Emperor gave in and approved all of their requests. When the three men appointed to bear that great responsibility bowed to receive the imperial decree, Xiao Jingyan, who had been doing all he could to hold it in, suddenly felt a burning sensation in his throat and involuntarily turned to look at Mei Changsu.

Mei Changsu remained as silent as before. Although beneath the surface, he was like a pot of water brought to a rolling boil, he was so quiet it didn’t seem like he was there at all. But anyone observing carefully would notice the deep anger in his dark, bottomless eyes as he stared with scorching eyes at the old emperor seated on the throne, as if he wanted to pierce through that decaying and weak exterior to stab at his fierce, vicious and self-centred past self…..

But the Liang Emperor did not perceive this guest official’s gaze. He got up to get away from the hall where he could no longer breathe, his entire body swaying, his white hair and beard trembling in disarray. As before, the Crown Prince and all present still proceeded to kowtow deferentially as he took his leave. Looking down at them in that moment, however, what he felt in his heart was already entirely different from what it used to feel like in the past. This difference was in the bones, so deep that no words could describe it.

Consort Jing got up to accompany the Liang Emperor as she had always done, but just as she extended her hands to support him, the Liang Emperor pushed her away, leaning only against Gao Zhan’s shoulders for support to board the Dragon Carriage alone. His refusal did not bother Consort Jing. She bore it with equanimity, her lips lifted faintly in a calm smile as she took another palanquin back to the inner palace.

On the small table in the Emperor’s bedroom, that morning’s unfinished game of chess was still laid out, untouched. It was the first thing the Emperor saw when he stumbled in. In a sudden fit of anger, he overturned the chessboard, scattering the black and white jade chess pieces. Some of them hit his face, causing a stinging pain on his skin.

Father and son were supposed to resume their game after the birthday ceremony….but after what happened today, was there any point to the game? Regardless of its outcome, he had already been forced against his will to capitulate to the Crown Prince and all the ministers during the earlier uprising, so he had already conceded defeat.

The Chiyan case was the greatest knot between father and son. This was something the Liang Emperor had long since been aware of. However, he didn’t expect that there would be so many facts tied to the case that he wasn’t even aware of, and that they would suddenly surface again after thirteen whole years, as if the resentment of all the dead souls refused to be pacified.

The Liang Emperor suddenly began to shiver all over. He was just about to summon Consort Jing but stopped himself.

He didn’t know why but the old emperor suddenly recalled the commotion that happened in the outer corridor this morning. Slapping his palm on the top of the table, he called out loudly, “Men! Summon Concubine Yue! Quickly summon Concubine Yue for an audience!” The Emperor was still the emperor after all, and his orders were quickly executed, and before a quarter of an hour had passed, Concubine Yue was led into the hall. She had lost the elegance she once had, and looked like a haggard old woman now, though the contours of her eyes were still graceful and elegant, and they flashed occasionally with a cold gleam. As soon as she saw the Liang Emperor, she immediately rushed forward, repeating the same words over and over, “Your Majesty, your servant has a secret report*.….a secret report.….” *literal translation

“Concubine Fei,” The Liang Emperor held her chin between his fingers and raised her face up, “What secret report do you have? Was it about Liyang’s sudden revolt in Wuying Hall today?”

“Your concubine wants to secretly report Prince Jing….Prince Jing is plotting some wrongdoing….”

“You’ve been in the palace. How would you know what Jingyan is doing?”

“Zuo Zhongcheng, the Eastern Lord mentioned it….” said Concubine Yue eagerly, her speech a little incoherent. “His niece entered the palace….told your servant…that the Eastern Lord is loyal to the Crown Prince….loyalty to the Crown Prince makes him loyal to Your Majesty….”

The Liang Emperor frowned. It took him a while before he realized that the Crown Prince she was referring to was the abolished Xiao Jingxuan, and his face immediately darkened.

“Prince Jing has been summoning the court officials non-stop, and many of them….the Eastern Lord heard of this….but Your Majesty hasn’t been attending court, so he couldn’t tell Your Majesty, and could only think of your concubine. After so long, he was the only one who still remembers your servant….as long as Prince Jing falls, the Crown Prince can return….the Eastern Lord is a faithful official. The Crown Prince will not treat him unfairly. Your Majesty will also not treat us unfairly. We are the first to report this. It’s the highest merit. You must be sure to break Prince Jing into a million pieces and bring the Crown Prince back….Xuan’er is the true Crown Prince. By preventing Prince Jing’s conspiracy, your concubine is rendering great merit. The Eastern Lord also supports Xuan’er. Your Majesty, please restore the Crown Prince, restore the Crown Prince!”

As she spoke, Concubine Yue’s previously gloomy expression changed. She became more emotional, her voice shrill and she even began foaming at the mouth, greatly alarming the Emperor. Perhaps he hadn’t seen Concubine Yue in a long time, but he never thought that this once magnificent imperial consort would become like this, her shrewdness and eloquence completely gone, leaving behind only paranoia and delirium. Even though what she said was true, she was clearly mad. Realizing this, the Liang Emperor began to shake off the hands that clung him, but the more he shook her off, the more she clung on, her fingernails gouging into his flesh, the pain causing him to cry out loudly, “Men! Take her away! Quickly, take her away!”

“Your Majesty….Prince Jing is planning a rebellion. For this servant’s meritorious deed in reporting it, please restore the Crown Prince….”, screamed Concubine Yue as she was being dragged away. The Liang Emperor’s hands and feet felt cold, his eyes flickering, and he unconsciously slumped forward, his eyes squeezed shut as he gasped for breath. Gao Zhan rushed forward with calming tea, patting the Emperor softly on his chest and stroking his back as he drank it up.

The Liang Emperor felt a pain in his chest, like he couldn’t catch his breath, and all his limbs were numb. Thinking about what Concubine Yue had said, he felt angry and helpless at the same time. As matters stand now, what difference did such knowledge make? He didn’t even have the energy and mental strength to pull himself together…..

“Your Majesty, shall I summon the imperial physician?” asked Gao Zhan.

“Summon….go summon….” No matter what, staying alive was the most important. The more he struggled to breathe, the more anxious the Liang Emperor felt. Fortunately, after the imperial physicians quickly rushed over to examine him, they concluded that it was due to irregular flow of qi and blood caused by disharmony in the viscera* with no major symptoms. They prescribed a dose of herbal medicine and quickly steeped it. After drinking it, the Emperor was a little more calm. Then he had his bath, after which he went to bed. *approximate translation for TCM medical diagnosis. High likelihood of an inaccurate translation

Whether it was the effect of the medicine, or because the Liang Emperor was too old to endure such turmoil, it wasn’t long before he fell asleep. Gao Zhan kept watch by the foot of the bed for a while, and when he was sure that the Emperor was sound asleep, he silently got up, looked at the bed for a while, then quietly retreated backwards in a crouch, one step at a time until he reached the side door where he slipped out without a sound.

Just outside the side door was the long and winding Yunding corridor. Consort Jing was still waiting patiently along the corridor, the sleeves of her robes fluttering, her gown billowing in the wind. Her gaze was clear and calm, and bore no particular expression. Gao Zhan stopped about ten zhang* away from where she stood, gazing attentively at this imperial consort who had risen steadily to the top without getting embroiled in a fight for the crown. This steward of the inner palace had always kept his gaze downcast and vaguely submissive, but for the first time now, his face revealed an expression, an expression of secret determination. *ten x 3.3m (1 zhang is 10 Chinese feet i.e. 3.3m)

Gao Zhan knew that it was finally time for him to take a stand.

“Reporting to niang niang, it was Zuo Zhongcheng, the Eastern Lord….” Approaching Consort Jing, he simply said these few words, after which he curled forward and waited unmovingly for a response.

Consort Jing’s pupils shifted faintly, and she merely gave a quiet “Ng”, but the tension in Gao Zhan’s face relaxed visibly. After bowing deeply at the waist in salutation, he retraced his steps back to the Emperor’s bedroom.

The Liang Emperor remained in the same position as before on the bed, but his breathing had become increasingly irregular, and after a short while, he began to stir agitatedly, his head tossing side to side on the pillow, his forehead breaking out in cold sweat, his hands stretched out, grasping the air, his mouth muttering incoherently.

“Wake His Majesty up. He’s having another nightmare,” Consort Jing gently instructed, seeming to have suddenly appeared.

Gao Zhan hurriedly responded. Getting up, he leaned over the bed and gently shook the Liang Emperor’s arm.

“Your Majesty….Your Majesty!!” After calling out to the Liang Emperor a few times, he suddenly sat up as if something had jolted him awake, staring dully ahead, his head dripping with perspiration. “What did Your Majesty dream about?” Consort Jing wiped away the old Emperor’s perspiration with a plain handkerchief and said softly, “It’s probably not only Concubine Chen. Was there anyone else?”

Trembling all over, the Liang Emperor shook her hand away, saying angrily, “You still have the audacity to appear before me? All my generosity towards you mother and son has been in vain, for you to harbour such evil intentions and deliberately scheme to overturn the Chiyan case! I have been really blind, to have trusted such disloyal and unfilial persons!”

“Even if we had deliberately schemed,” said Consort Jing calmly, “There is something Your Majesty must understand. In addition to long-standing feelings and long-standing planning, there is another more important reason for overturning the Chiyan case.”

“What, what other reason?”

“The truth. The truth of the matter.” Consort Jing’s gaze pierced right into the heart of the Liang Emperor. “Your Majesty is the Honorable Son of Heaven. As long as you refuse to admit to the facts revealed today, of course nobody could force you to. But even though you are the Son of Heaven, there are some things you cannot do, for example influencing the conscience and convictions of the people, modifying the opinions of future generations, nor can you prevent the people of the past from appearing in your dreams…..”

"Stop talking!" The Liang Emperor’s face was pallid and he was shaking all over, both his hands clasping his forehead as he fell backward with a loud cry, convulsing and gasping for breath against the pillow, but he didn't dare close his eyes. "Why did you come to me, this is all Xia Jiang, it's all because of Xia Jiang and Xie Yu…"

"Next time they appear in your dreams, perhaps Your Majesty can ask them." Consort Jing's voice was still warm and gentle, as if she were talking about nothing of import. "But your concubine believes that even for someone as monstrous as Xia Jiang, there should be one or two people who make him afraid of dreaming."

The emperor turned around and stared at her for a long time, then muttered, "Xia Jiang betrayed me too…but some things he said were true…he said Jingyan hadn't let go of the Chiyan case, and…" When he got to this point, his whole expression suddenly hardened, and he gripped the teacup on the table, spitting toward Consort Jing, "He said that Su Zhe was once Prince Qi's man. Am I right?"

Consort Jing lifted the zisha* teapot to refill the cup, and said mildly, "True or not, what does it matter? Xia Jiang's betrayal isn't a lie, and the injustice to the Chiyan Army isn't a lie. As long as Your Majesty is clear about these two matters, the rights and the wrongs are plain. What other doubts are there to harbor?" *Yixing clay teapot, also called a Zisha or purple clay teapot, used to brew a traditional style of tea.

A glimmer of cold light flashed in the depths of the Liang Emperor's eyes, and his whole body slowly tautened. Raising his voice, he shouted, "Men!"

"This old servant is here…" Gao Zhan hurried to say.

"Go…summon that Su Zhe here! I want to see him!"

Consort Jing really had not predicted the emperor would give such an order. She was slightly startled, and though her shapely eyebrows rose, she slowly lowered her eyelids again, and sat down peacefully without saying anything.

The door to the hall opened about an hour later, and Mei Changsu entered, his gait even, still in his plain robes, crow-black hair encircled by a jade ornament. He stopped before the emperor's couch and offered his respects without a word. After bending for a while, there was still no response at all from the emperor, so he just stood up of his own volition. The Liang emperor wrinkled his brow, but didn't use this as an excuse to give him trouble. Instead, he looked at Mei Changsu coldly for a long time, then asked, "Su Zhe, how many times have we met so far?"

"This should be the fourth time," Mei Changsu replied, after thinking about it a little.

"Do you remember when I asked you why you came to the capital, and you said…Jingxuan and Jinghuan both wanted to recruit you at the same time, so you didn't have any choice but to enter the capital, am I right?"

"That was true." Mei Changsu smiled slightly. "Everything was in Your Majesty's palm at that time, so would I dare to not tell the truth?"

"That's right. I verified it, and you really did tell the truth. At the time I wouldn't have minded one or the other of those two having another strategist." The Liang emperor narrowed his eyes, his tone of voice becoming colder and colder. "Although what I missed then is that it wasn't that simple, you're not just a strategist. And…you didn't tell me the whole truth."

Mei Changsu still wore his little smile. He said, "Like I just said, at that time Your Majesty held everything in the palm of your hand. How could I say the whole truth?"

"Then what about now? I am in the depths of old age, and can't even hold a teacup steady. Can you tell the truth now?"

"Your Majesty is still Your Majesty," Mei Changsu said gently, "The people still anxiously await Your Majesty's enlightened justice."

"So if I overturn the Chiyan case, this will be 'enlightened justice'? Is that it?" A glimmer of viciousness appeared in the emperor's expression. "Jingyan controls the whole court in the palm of his hand. I can't do anything to him anymore. Tell me, why couldn't he wait until I was dead to overturn this case?"

"Because it wouldn't be the same."

"What about it wouldn't be the same?"

Mei Changsu looked deeply and directly into the old emperor's muddled eyes, and enunciated, "To Prince Qi, it wouldn't be the same."

"Prince Qi?" It was as if the emperor had been pierced by a sharp needle. His lower lip trembled violently. "Prince Qi…You -- you are one of Prince Qi's people…tell me, tell us…who were you in Prince Qi's household?"

"Is that all Your Majesty wishes to ask?" Mei Changsu's tone was even and frozen, as if he was holding a piece of ice with his teeth. "Consort Chen, Prince Qi, General Lin, Grand Princess Jinyang…and Lin Shu…which one of these departed wasn't once dear to Your Majesty? But as soon as people raise their voices to cry injustice for them, where did Your Majesty's thoughts go? To calculate how much power the Crown Prince has now! To doubt the positions and motivations of the court! To question the identity of a strategist! It has been many hours since Grand Princess Liyang so simply spoke those lines in the great hall, but Your Majesty, haven't you even thought to glance at the letter Xie Yu wrote? Is it that to Your Majesty, the truth of the past is really so small a matter? How your eldest son, your flesh and blood, came step by step to death? Do you really care so little?"

The Liang Emperor had only just gotten control of his feelings with difficulty, but Mei Changsu threw them into disorder again. A flush covering his whole face, his lip turning purple, he hissed loudly in anger, "You…insolence! Insolence!"

"I've already read this letter of Xie Yu's, and it's very detailed. How General Lin was killed, how Prince Qi was shattered like a piece of jade, one occurrence after another, nothing left out. I have the copy I made here, would Your Majesty like to see it?" Mei Changsu tilted his head up, the white jade of his face like ice. "Or…I can read it out loud to Your Majesty?"

Seeing this guest of the court feel out some folded papers from his sleeve, the Liang Emperor clenched his jaw, his head covered in cold sweat. He said forcefully, "Shut up! We…We don't want to hear it…"

"Is it that Your Majesty doesn't want to hear it, or that Your Majesty is afraid to hear it?" The corner of Mei Changsu's mouth formed a cold smile as he looked directly at the Son of Heaven. "It is said that when Prince Qi was about to die all those years ago, he still ordered the officer who bore the news of Your Majesty's edict to him to repeat it three times, and after he was done listening he only said one thing: 'The father doesn't know the son, and the son doesn't know the father.' And then he drank the poisoned wine without even blinking…Your Majesty, do you know what he meant by this?"

The Liang emperor was trembling all over. He lifted a hand to cover his eyes, but all of a sudden felt that his arm weighed a thousand pounds, and only raised it halfway before it came heavily down again, thumping dully on the royal table.

There was no expression on Mei Changsu's face as he continued, "If Your Majesty had understood Prince Qi, you wouldn't have suspected him of rebellious intentions. And if Prince Qi had understood Your Majesty, he would not have refused to believe that you would kill him, up to the very end…If I may be so bold as to ask, now that you've learned that Prince Qi and General Lin were wronged, do you feel any remorse in your heart?"

"Shut up! Shut up! I order you to shut up!" The emperor exploded in anger, forced to the point of frenzy, seemingly forgetting his own lofty identity. He pushed back in a loud voice, "What do you know? Lin Xie was consolidating military power for himself -- that's a fact! The people that I sent were pushed to the side without an exception, but you know what he did do? He used Prince Qi's people instead. Every time, every time he went out on campaign he would always say, 'When a commander is on the battlefield, he can't always follow his lord's orders completely.' How could I let that slide?

"And Prince Qi…winning over people's hearts in court, throwing around mad ideas with the nobility at home, always attempting to change my established way of doing things. In the end, when even the court high ministers presented reports, they'd say, 'According to Prince Qi's idea' -- How was I supposed to tolerate that?

"He was both my subject and son, but he kept insolently challenging me in court, always saying, "The country, the country." Tell me, in the end was this country mine, or Xiao Jingyu's?"

"This country belongs to the people," Mei Changsu said, his voice as freezing as the Arctic glaciers, "Without the common people, what is the Son of Heaven? Without the state, what is its lord? Commanders and soldiers fight ahead in blood-soaked battlefields -- but you* are issuing edicts from the faraway capital, and if there is any violation, it will be secret jealousy, hidden suspicion, and the merciless butcher's knife! Unfortunately, perhaps in Your Majesty's heart, there is only room for the lofty authority of the throne. When did it ever hold the country? * Mei Changsu has switched to the casual "you" for this, where before he was using "Your Majesty" and occasionally the respectful "you."

"Prince Qi's reputation of sincerely handling the court and government for the good of the kingdom, of being hardworking, virtuous, and wise -- it was built true achievement by true achievement. His views on politics differed from those of Your Majesty, but those were all plainly spoken in front of all the court, directly to Your Majesty, with not even a shred of inappropriateness. But of all this brilliant loyalty and forthrightness, the only thing Your Majesty saw was 'insolently challenging'…When Prince Qi drank down the poison wine all those years ago, how dismal and despairing he must have felt in his heart, how completely the pain must have pierced, to the bottom of it. Unfortunately Your Majesty will never know this from experience.

"Even if it's only for the past affection between father and son, for that heart of Prince Qi's that would rather die than rebel, I just ask for Your Majesty to genuinely and sincerely verify his innocence, and in this way comfort his soul in the heavens, which has been bitterly miserable these thirteen years.

"Is it really that hard? Can you really not do it?"

When the emperor first started listening to Mei Changsu, his face was still white with rage, but at this last sentence he suddenly felt as if a knife had sliced into his heart. His imperial air fled completely. He slumped against the back of the cushioned couch, covering his face with both thin, gnarled hands. Under his chin seeped the traces of water.

Prince Qi, Jingyu…once they were intimately close as father and son, even if instance after instance of conflicts they couldn't resolve caused them to grow distant. But no matter how ruthless a person was, no matter how vicious, could it really not hurt? If it really didn't hurt, why keep people from even touching on this imperial offense these thirteen years? Why be unafraid to erect a memorial tablet to Consort Chen, but not dare to exchange even one sentence about his eldest son?

Mei Changsu lowered his eyelids over eyes that had already frozen over like a winter pond. He knew that the thoroughly defeated old emperor in front of him would raise no more obstacles to overturning the case, but for some reason he was unable to feel any relief, only a melancholy rage, so strong that he couldn't stand to look at the emperor one second longer.

"I will withdraw." With these simple words, Mei Changsu bowed slightly at Consort Jing, then turned and walked out of Qin Hall. The Liang emperor felt that his whole body was soft and weak, his head empty in bursts, and couldn't spare any strength for Mei Changsu at all. He lay fallen on the couch, his mass of gray hair in disarray.

Consort Jing extended a cool hand and gently massaged the area between his eyebrows, saying softly, “Your Majesty, if you speak of loyalty and filial piety, one can’t say that Commander Lin was disloyal, or that Prince Qi was unfilial. They had always been Jingyan’s role models. What they did not do, neither would Jingyan. Your Majesty, please don’t worry yourself unnecessarily.”

The Liang Emperor slowly relaxed the hands covering his face and looked fixedly at Consort Jing, “Can you guarantee it?”

“If Your Majesty truly understood Jingyan, you wouldn’t ask your consort to guarantee it.” Consort Jing kept the corners of her lips lifted in a slight smile, but her eyelashes hung low, concealing the expression in her eyes. “What Jingyan is requesting is for nothing more than truth and justice. If Your Majesty is able to give him this, then why harbour other suspicions?”

The Liang Emperor was expressionless as he contemplated, his gaze pinned fixedly on Consort Jing’s gentle face for a long while before he finally heaved a long sigh and murmured, “….things have already reached this point….just do as you will….I’ll not say more….”

The day after the Emperor’s birthday, the Inner Court Division issued a formal decree, ordering Prince Ji, Yan Que and Ye Shizhen to be the presiding officials to reinvestigate the Chiyan rebellion case. Regarding this case, that had once greatly shaken the entire Da Liang, there were many who were sympathetic and harboured doubts back then, but due to the threat of power and intense pressure, they were suppressed for all these thirteen years. In the wake of Xia Jiang’s confession and in-depth review of the case, the details of the massacre at Meiling were revealed bit by bit. The grief and indignation of all levels of society and all the common folk grew and intensified to a boiling point.

Nie Feng, Nie Duo and Wei Zheng were taken away by Xiao Jingyan to provide their witness testimonies and to reinstate their identities. Finding the most opportune moment and natural way for them to reappear wasn’t a simple matter. As was habitual for him, Mei Changsu naturally wanted to put his mind to planning this, but this time, Lin Chen and Xiao Jingyan happened to share the same mind on this. One issued an order as his doctor, while the other interfered as a friend, so the matter was ultimately drawn out in full detail by the strategists amidst the Crown Prince’s trusted aides, not allowing Mei Changsu to intervene, merely keeping him updated daily on its progress. As far as possible, they sheltered him from the disturbances that were raging through the outside world in order for him to wait for the final outcome with a calm mind.

By the middle of the 9th month, the reinvestigation process was concluded, but because this case had far reaching implications, it wasn’t just a matter of amending the judgment, so it dragged on for more than half a month as the details of the amendment, as well as those of compensation for survivors and financial support for their families, and other such matters were worked out.

On the 4th day of the 10th month, the Crown Prince led the three presiding officials to the palace to meet the Emperor, remaining there from early morning till nightfall. Two days later, the Inner Court Division issued three imperial decrees. The first, exonerating Prince Qi, Lin Xie and thirty-two other implicated civil and military officials from the criminal charge of plotting a great rebellion, declaring the facts of this injustice far and wide. The second, to order that the remains of Consort Chen, Prince Qi and all his direct line of descent be moved to the imperial tomb, and to rebuild the ancestral hall of the Lin clan in order to reinstate the ritual sacrifice to the departed for both families; to restore all survivors to their original positions and reward them; to order the Ministry of Rites to discuss a manifold, generous compensation to support the families of the deceased who had suffered injustice. A grand ceremony was scheduled on the 20th day of the 10th month, when a spiritual altar would be set up in the temple of the imperial household, and the Emperor would lead hundreds of officials to personally offer sacrifice to appease the souls of the deceased. The third, the leading conspirators, Xia Jiang, Xie Yu and their accomplices were convicted of the capital crime of rebellion, and were sentenced to death by a thousand cuts. Since Xie Yu was dead and it was not possible to execute him, after some consideration, all nine of his clan branches were implicated and wiped out except for Grand Princess Liyang and her three children who earned merit by reporting it first.

These three orders more or less confirmed the reversal of the case verdict, and the next step was to plan and implement it across the various ministries, departments and local administrations. On the 20th day of the 10th month, the sacrificial ceremony was held as scheduled. As a show of respect, both the Emperor and the Crown Prince wore plain caps made of cloth, personally lit the incense before the spiritual tablets and burnt written prayers, offering them to the heavens. The sky was overcast that day, and the atmosphere was solemn. After the Liang Emperor added his joss stick and candle, he wept before everyone to show repentance for his own guilt. Although Xiao Jingyan never expected the Emperor to pull this off, he wasn’t surprised. He merely said something polite to console him, but did not participate in the tearful performance his father put up in order to arouse sympathy. And it was obviously all hot air. Days after the sacrificial ceremony, he never made any further mention of repenting his guilt.

The day Xia Jiang was sentenced, Lin Chen went with Mei Changsu to the top of a tall building to watch the execution from afar. This director of the Xuanjing Bureau, who had once been unbelievably powerful and well-respected…not a single tear dropped for him as he reached the end of his road. Xia Chun and Xia Qiu had already been sentenced to exile, and although Xia Dong stood in the execution ground with a coffin, waiting to prepare the body for burial, she didn't have any intention of paying respects. Xia Jiang was bound to the execution platform with his hair all loose, without a person to send him off. It was Marquis Yan, who was tasked with supervising the execution, who walked up him and said a few things that could only be guessed at.

"Changsu, hunting down Xia Jiang was the thing you were most worried about, but then, when he was captured, you didn't even go ask him a single question?" Lin Chen asked, looking far off into the distance at the criminal on the execution platform.

"The thing I was most worried about was actually whether or not he would be executed, so after he was caught, what is there to ask?"

"Whether or not, having forged the chain of such cruel events all those years ago, he has one spark of regret?"

With a chilly laugh, Mei Changsu said, "How boring."

"Boring, perhaps…but I heard you had a lot of words with the emperor that day?"

"Those were the words I said in Prince Qi's place." Mei Changsu's gaze darkened. "Prince Qi was both talented and idealistic, and his greatest weakness was that he didn't sufficiently guard against his own father. He thought that disagreeing on politics would only lead to debate; he never thought that it would lead to murder.

"Though I have always felt that, with regards to the emperor's pitiless and heartless decision, he would make the same decision if events occurred over again -- however, Prince Qi's spirit is in the heavens, and he must have hoped that his father could come to some remorse. So there are some words that I had to help him say. As for Xia Jiang….whether or not something like him has regrets, who even cares?"

Lin Chen inclined his head without speaking, and the watchman's rattle was already sounding for half an hour after noon. The executioner, thick-armed and round-waisted, stepped onto the platform and stretched in preparation.

"Not much to see, let's go." Disinterestedly casting out an apathetic look, Mei Changsu turned to leave. Lin Chen was about to follow him down the stairs, but stopped suddenly. Watching the faraway execution platform, he raised his eyebrows.

Mei Changsu followed his gaze and saw only an old, simply-dressed housewife leading a youth to the platform. She placed wine and food in front of Xia Jiang, lit incense, and looked at him silently for a while. Then she left, having not said a single word throughout.

"'To win and to lose.' These few words must be the hardest to comprehend in the world." Lin Chen shook his head and sighed regretfully, his words seemingly apropos of nothing. Mei Changsu nodded, understanding. His eyes followed the old housewife and youth until they disappeared in the crowd, his face briefly betraying a complicated expression that mixed deep respect with disappointment and frustration.

#nirvana in fire #langya list #langya bang #琅琊榜 #mei changsu #xiao xuan #circ translates mandarin #franken-translation #this is actually from 2023 lol #super casual translation

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