That afternoon, Zhang Yun walked through the silent hallways of the residence, holding a small lacquered wooden box in his hands. Inside, wrapped in a fine silk cloth, rested a delicate white sandalwood hairpin he had secretly commissioned long ago, back when he first found out about Meixin's pregnancy. He had always wanted to give it to her, but then… disaster struck them both.
After everything that had happened, he thought that maybe this small yet sincere gesture could bring her a smile—alleviate, even just a little, the distance still stretched between them. He walked with emotion, almost excitement, imagining her reaction, hopeful that this might mark the beginning of a reconciliation.
But as he approached the pavilion, unknowingly, his steps led him straight into the eye of a storm.
Meixin was waiting, seated with her back straight before a small tea table. The teapot still steamed, but her hand remained motionless above the cup, as if the warmth couldn't reach her fingers. When Zhang Yun opened the door and entered the room, their eyes met immediately. It was just a glance, but it was enough to freeze him in place.
It was a cold, merciless gaze—like a red-hot blade that pierced him without touching him. Yun stopped for a moment, uncertain, the small box trembling in his hands. Even so, he forced himself forward and slowly stepped closer until he stood before her.
—I hope you like it…— he murmured, opening the box with a timid smile.
He extended the gift with both hands, almost reverently. But before he could finish his sentence, Meixin abruptly raised a hand and slapped the box out of his grasp. The sharp sound of wood striking the floor mingled with the faint clink of jade rolling from its wrapping. The hairpin lay exposed, gleaming under the dim light.
Zhang Yun immediately knelt down, startled, his heart pounding in his chest.
—Why are you doing this?— he asked in a low voice, carefully picking up the hairpin.
Meixin didn't reply right away. She simply watched him with a twisted smile—one full of sarcasm that cut deeper than any words.
Even so, he stood up, stretched his hand toward her, and offered the hairpin again.
—It was designed especially for you… I had it—
But before he could finish, Meixin let the object slip from her fingers. It fell to the ground with a soft chime. Then, without looking away from him, she lifted her foot… and crushed it.
The hairpin shattered beneath the sole of her shoe, cracking like ice breaking apart. She kept pressing until it broke into several pieces, scattered like the remnants of her heart at that moment.
Yun froze, his eyes locked on the floor, his breath suspended. But what truly paralyzed him was her gaze—a look filled with hatred, disappointment, and pain.
Meixin stepped toward him, her eyes still fixed on his face.
—Was it you?— she asked, her voice trembling but firm. —Are you the one responsible for the loss of my child?
Zhang Yun looked at her, confused at first, but confusion soon gave way to fear. His expression turned rigid.
—How did you find out?— he whispered, as if the truth held no weight unless spoken aloud.
—That doesn't matter!— she cried, her voice vibrating with restrained anguish. —I know, and that's enough! It was you who killed my child… you!
The impact of her words knocked the air from his lungs. The world seemed to sway beneath his feet.
—Meixin… please…— he murmured, stepping forward in desperation.
He took her hands firmly, seeking to hold on to more than just her skin—searching for redemption through her touch.
—Forgive me… I didn't know… I didn't mean to…— he pleaded, the words barely escaping his lips.
But she, her face drenched in burning tears, looked at him as if he were a stranger, and without hesitation, slapped him hard. The mark on his cheek burned, but what hurt more was the accusation that followed.
—You killed your own blood! Your own child!— she shouted, her voice cracking into a sob torn from the depths of her soul. —And not only that! You… you left me barren… I'll never be able to have children again because of you!
Zhang Yun recoiled as if her words were blades.
—You took everything from me!— she screamed, trembling. —You ruined everything! I hate you! I hate you so much…!
He collapsed to his knees in front of her, eyes blurred by tears he could no longer hold back.
—I'm sorry…!—He reached for the fabric of her dress, trying to touch her, to hold on, to stop her.
But Meixin immediately pulled away, as if his closeness repulsed her.
—I want a divorce,— she said, with a coldness that made the air around her shudder.
Zhang Yun remained silent. His body still knelt, his soul in shreds. Slowly, he rose to his feet, his face hardening in disbelief.
—I can give you everything, Meixin…— he said with a voice that sounded more like a vow than a plea. —Everything but that…
And without giving her time to respond, he turned and left the room, leaving behind the sharp sound of a door closing—and the love they once shared. Leaving Meixin consumed by a resentment that burrowed to her bones, like a slow poison that wouldn't stop burning.
That night, neither of them found sleep. Meixin, determined to leave him as soon as possible, tossed and turned in bed with a heart at war. Zhang Yun, on the other hand, lay awake, trapped in a maelstrom of remorse and guilt, desperately seeking a way to earn her forgiveness.
The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the mansion, Meixin sat in her room with Liu Zhen. In her hand, she held a letter carefully folded and sealed with red wax.
—Please, send this to my father immediately,— she said, her voice firm, though her eyes held a silent plea.
Liu Zhen nodded, sensing the gravity in her tone. He tucked the letter beneath his cloak and prepared to depart without delay.
However, before she could completely leave the grounds of the Zhang residence, one of Zhang Tao's trusted men, stationed in the shadows of the corridor, intercepted her.
—Sister Liu!— he called out with a wide, friendly smile, stepping out of the shadows as if his appearance were purely coincidental. —I was just thinking about you. Do you have a moment?
Liu Zhen narrowed her eyes slightly, wary of his sudden friendliness. She held the edge of her cloak tightly, beneath which the letter was hidden, and advanced with caution.
—Of course, Master Qian. How may I help you?
—Oh, nothing important, nothing at all…— he repeated, chuckling softly as he guided her toward a more secluded corner. —I was just curious… how is Lady Meixin? I've heard her health has been rather delicate lately.
As he spoke, Qian Hu positioned himself so that Liu Zhen's back was facing the path leading to the exit. Just then, a second servant emerged from the bushes, moving with the stealth of a shadow. He wore plain servant's clothing, but his movements were precise and trained. With impressive skill, he slipped two fingers beneath the fold of her cloak, extracted the letter, and replaced it with a small, blank scroll.
The entire operation took only a few seconds.
By the time Liu Zhen politely excused herself with a slight bow and resumed her path, she had no idea she was no longer carrying her lady's message. The letter, filled with determination and desperation, was no longer on its way to Meixin's father—but was instead being secretly delivered to Zhang Tao.