Chapter Eight: Night Unending

The Ancestral Office

Led by the guards to Room Number One of the Ancestral Office, the place reserved for imprisoning royal offspring guilty of grave insubordination, she was shoved inside and the door slammed shut behind her. Silence enveloped the chamber; more silence, thick and oppressive. Her wounds had grown inflamed, untended, and her fever burned hotter than before. No sooner had she stumbled in than she collapsed, consciousness fading, sprawled across the cold stone floor. Her clothes were filthy beyond repair, half her face bruised and swollen, and beneath her garments, countless horrifying injuries lurked, hidden from view.

When she awoke, the ground beneath her was unyielding, and her mind, fever-stricken, could scarcely distinguish where she was. Tremors wracked her body, arms wrapped tightly around herself, legs drawn close, curled into a ball. Once plump with childhood softness, the girl had not eaten for nearly six hours and was dizzy with hunger. Her physical distress heightened her sensitivity to her surroundings. At the faintest sound, her eyes darted toward its source.

The door swung open. Night Qianling said nothing, recognizing the newcomer instantly. It was him. She silently lamented—there was no escaping this madman. He radiated a dangerous aura: upturned phoenix eyes, thin lips, and from his features alone, one could sense his cold cruelty. He was not a kind soul.

“Master Sui, you’re here?” Night Qianling forced a weak smile, struggling to rise, leaning against the wall. The elegance cultivated from years of high station forbade her from revealing any hint of despair or disgrace before others.

Sui Gaolang regarded her with probing eyes, shaking his head meaningfully, disregarding her effort to maintain dignity and wearing an expression of regret. “Fifth Princess, the Empress was revered throughout the realm. I’m merely curious—what does it feel like to kill one’s own gentle mother?”

Her forced smile froze at the corner of her lips. A wave of fury rushed to her head, and she glared at him, but within seconds, her expression returned to calm. “I know your methods well enough, Master Sui. Whatever you do, you should know I will not utter a single word.”

“Then why did the Emperor have you brought here, Fifth Princess? Is it to let you experience the life of a criminal?” Sui Gaolang’s tone was light and feigned confusion, but he deliberately emphasized the word “criminal,” as though inflicting pain brought him pleasure. Such perversion was terrifying. He even followed with a low, mocking laugh.

Sui Gaolang was the illegitimate son of the Minister of Revenue. His mother, Song Shishi, was a famed courtesan, and their status barred them from entering respectable society. Yet, through ruthless cunning and unscrupulous conduct, he gained the favor of Sun Xiang, the influential head of the Ancestral Office. Sun Xiang married his niece to Sui Gaolang, and from then on, Sui’s rise was meteoric, eventually becoming the deputy of the Ancestral Office.

Curiously, the Minister of Revenue’s only two recognized sons drowned in the city moat overnight. No one knows who was responsible. Left with no choice, the Minister brought Sui back, made him an official heir, and entered him into the family register. Now, thanks to his father’s influence, Sui’s standing in the Ancestral Office rivaled Sun Xiang’s. The two began an open and covert rivalry. Sui’s fiancée, Sun Xiang’s niece, slit her wrists in a stormy night and could not be saved, driving the animosity between the two men to greater extremes.

Everyone suspected Sui Gaolang of both incidents, but lacking evidence, he could not be punished. The Minister of Revenue, feigning ignorance, introduced his son to other powerful families in the capital, seeking to pave his way.

Night Qianling ignored his words; her anger flashed in her eyes for a brief second. She stared at him with large, unfocused eyes, a hint of malice flickering in her gaze, before she spoke in a level tone: “Sui Gaolang, you have skill, character, and courage. I admire you, but I never regretted preventing you from being with my sister.” Seeing his face darken at the mention, she sighed, “You are masterful in scheming, but I never doubted your feelings for her. Thinking carefully, my sister is likely the only one in this world who could stir your emotions. Fortunately, she saw through you. Otherwise, I’d have to agonize over how to deal with you.”

Each word brought piercing pain, but she felt compelled to speak. Sui Gaolang and Night Qianmu had fallen in love young, meeting on a rain-soaked night. Night Qianmu rescued the gravely injured Sui, caring for him tenderly. She often absented herself from the palace, slipping away on whims; Night Qianchen and Night Qianzhi conspired to send Night Qianling to follow her, hoping to learn what was happening. That was how Night Qianling discovered her sister’s romance. As a result, Night Qianmu ignored Night Qianling for nearly half a year, and barely spoke to her brothers. Only after learning Sui’s true nature did she reconcile with her siblings.

Sui Gaolang saw Night Qianling’s discomfort. As a hardened official, he could tell from her pallor how grave her injuries were. Her determination inspired a rare respect within him. Yet he said nothing; he was never one for words, and even less so when deep in thought. Just then, Night Qianling succumbed once more, fainting onto the floor.

“Ling’er!” A familiar yet strange and urgent voice rang out, stirring indescribable emotion. The two had not met privately for nearly a year. Without hesitation, Sui Gaolang turned and bowed deeply to the newcomers. “Your servant greets the Crown Prince, Second Prince, Third Princess, and Fourth Prince.” Night Qianchen acknowledged him with a nod, signaling him to stand.

Behind him, Night Qianmu ignored Sui Gaolang, rushing to kneel beside the unconscious Night Qianling. Her voice trembled as she propped Qianling’s upper body onto her arm, anxious and tearful: “Ling’er, don’t frighten your sister. Wake up, please wake up.”

Night Qiege hurried to Night Qianling’s side, feeling her pulse and beginning his diagnosis. His brow furrowed. Standing nearby, Night Qianzhi cast a questioning look at Qiege. “Qiege, how is she? Is she all right?”

Qiege looked up, sensing everyone’s concern. He reassured them: “She’s fine. Ling’er has spent years on the battlefield; her constitution is strong. Only a broken rib needs careful setting, but her fever is serious and must not be delayed.” He opened his medicine kit, and began applying silver needles to Qianling.

When he first touched her pulse, her energy was chaotic and she was weak, but not in mortal danger; he simply hadn’t expected her to be so abused. Watching her sweat profusely in her fevered coma, Qiege felt a stab of sorrow. Beside him, Qianzhi gazed at his youngest sister with deep affection, covering her with his coat and gently feeling her burning forehead. He turned to Qianmu, “Don’t worry. Qiege says she’ll be fine, so she will be fine. Try to calm down.” He lightly patted Qianmu’s back to comfort her.

Night Qianchen saw Sui Gaolang’s conflicted expression, fixated on the kneeling, worried Night Qianmu. He sighed and stepped over, following Sui’s gaze, though Sui seemed oblivious.

Ten minutes later, Qiege exhaled in relief, his tone relaxing. He gently tapped Night Qianling’s head. “It’s all right. I’ll reset the broken bone soon. She’ll be fine.” His words soothed the tension around him. Seeing the blood on Qianling’s clothes, his tone grew cold as he turned to Sui Gaolang, his eyes icy. “She’s my only sister. We teased her plenty growing up, but besides us, no one is allowed to harm her, not even a little.” He was about to say more, but Night Qianchen cut him off: “Master Sui hasn’t harmed Ling’er, Qiege.”

Sui Gaolang was mad; if they provoked him now, Ling’er might truly be torn apart. But if he still bore any affection for Night Qianmu, he might show mercy. Night Qianchen was preparing to give him a reason he could not refuse.

Since meeting Night Qianmu, Sui Gaolang’s gaze had never left her. Startled by Night Qianchen’s words, he instinctively stepped back.

Night Qianchen understood—Sui Gaolang loved Night Qianmu deeply. For the two to be together would require sacrifices beyond imagining, ones Sui might never be able to make. It was nearly impossible.

“Master Sui, you and Lord Sun are fiercely competing for the chief post of the Ancestral Office. I am willing to help you gain that position, so long as you can help Ling’er suffer less.” He glanced at the fallen Night Qianling, then at Night Qianmu, offering a comforting smile. “Master Sui, you know my father loves Ling’er most. Hurting her like this is unavoidable. I hope you’ll do me this favor; whatever you desire, I will arrange it.”

Before Sui Gaolang could speak, Qiege interjected urgently: “I need to perform surgery to set Ling’er’s bone, but this place is filthy. Master Sui, is there a clean room here?” His mother’s sudden death and his sister’s injury had left Qiege in a foul temper, and his words were sharp, showing his impatience more than ever.

What did he mean by a clean room? The remark was biting sarcasm. Night Qianmu glanced at Qiege, knowing his mood was sour, and tried to smooth things over, awkwardly addressing Sui Gaolang, unsure how to respond, her voice uncertain: “Gaol...”—she caught herself and corrected—“Master Sui, forgive us. My siblings’ emotions are strained; Fourth Brother’s words were blunt. Please don’t mind, could you help us find a place suitable for surgery?”

At this, Sui Gaolang’s irritation melted away. Seeing Night Qianmu flustered and vulnerable, he felt that not only would he grant this small favor, he would pluck stars from the sky if she asked. His normally impassive face finally showed expression. “You are too polite, Third Princess. I understand. Please follow me.”