A couple of days later, Huang Fei personally made her way to Zhang Yun's study.
That very afternoon, Yun was wrapping a couple of gifts. He chose a fine wooden box, inside which he placed a pair of embroidered baby shoes. The other gift, wrapped with even more care, was for Meixin: a white sandalwood hair comb, delicately carved.
Something stirred inside him—something fragile yet warm. His heart beat with anticipation, perhaps even hope. That day, he planned to speak with Meixin. Not only to give her the gifts but to ask her… to hear from her lips what he already sensed. He wanted to hear it from her. He imagined her surprise, her hands reaching for the gifts, her voice—soft, hesitant—finally telling him she was carrying his child.
But before night fell, Huang Fei appeared.
She knocked gently on the study door and entered when summoned. Upon seeing her, Yun looked up in mild surprise, though his expression remained guarded.
Fei paused at the entrance, a silk handkerchief between her fingers, her body slightly inclined forward as if uncertain whether to speak. Her brows furrowed with measured unease, and when she finally approached, she lowered her gaze, her voice trembling just enough.
—Yun ge…— she began softly. —I'm not sure if I should tell you this. I've kept it to myself for days, but… there's something that's been troubling me.
Yun leaned back in his chair, his brow tightening further.
—What is it?—he asked firmly, though not harshly.
She sighed, lowering her voice with feigned sorrow.
—It's about Meixin.
Just the name was enough to tense him. He said nothing.
Fei remained silent a moment longer before continuing in a hushed tone, as if sharing a painful secret.
—There's something strange… At first, I didn't want to believe it. But one night, I couldn't sleep. I went for a walk near the southern wing, where her quarters are. I saw a man moving swiftly. Tall, broad-shouldered…
Yun's eyes narrowed, his face still composed.
—Chen Lian?— he muttered, his voice sharp though trying to remain calm.
Fei lowered her gaze further, twisting the handkerchief in her hands.
—I didn't want to believe it either,— she whispered. —But my maid heard from other servants… that they've seen a man leaving Meixin's pavilion late at night, when the guards are distracted. I asked them not to say anything… but you know how rumors spread.
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with restrained sorrow, as if regretting every word. She delivered the final blow.
—I'm only telling you this because I care about you, Yun ge. If she's hiding something from you… you have the right to know.
Yun didn't respond. His face tightened in a grimace of restrained fury. He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to calm the torrent of emotions surging inside him. Then, without another word, he pressed his fist onto the table with such force that his knuckles turned white and the wood creaked under the pressure. Rage consumed him from within, but it was the desperation of not knowing the truth that drove him further.
With firm steps, he stormed out of the room without looking back, his breath heavy. The echo of his boots pounded the floor as he made his way toward Meixin's pavilion, his mind already filled with questions he wanted to scream, though he feared the answers.
The door to Meixin's room flew open with such force that it slammed against the wall. Yun burst in, eyes bloodshot with fury. He was breathing heavily, like a volcano ready to erupt. Meixin, who was sewing by the lamp, looked up, confused and unable to grasp the reason for his sudden intrusion. Her face reflected bewilderment, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what was unfolding.
Without saying a word, Yun lunged at her, grabbing her shoulders with such force that she staggered. He shook her violently, as if trying to rip the truth from her lips.
—Who is the man leaving your room every night?— he demanded, his voice full of rage, his eyes piercing her with distrust, as if he wanted to read in her soul what he had already decided to believe.
Meixin, stunned, couldn't comprehend the question. She looked at Yun, and in her eyes, despair shimmered, but she couldn't find the right words. Her heart pounded in her chest, trembling at the fury in her husband's eyes.
—I don't understand…— she whispered, unable to say more, paralyzed by confusion and fear.
But Yun gave her no time to explain. His anger blinded him, and no matter what she tried to say, her words seemed to fall into an abyss. He shook her again, his face contorted by the pain of betrayal he had already accepted as truth.
—Don't play innocent!— he shouted, his body trembling. —They saw a man leaving your room in the middle of the night, when the guards were distracted! You've betrayed me, Meixin! And I don't care what you say—I don't believe you anymore!
Meixin tried to resist, but fear chilled her to the bone. The anguish inside her made her step back, but Yun held her tight. Her desperation grew with every word he hurled.
—It's not what you think, Yun…— she tried to say, her voice broken by sorrow, but he wouldn't let her speak. He wasn't listening. Her words vanished into a void, as if no explanation could reach him. His fury drowned out everything else.
Yun released her and began pacing the room, his breath ragged like a caged wolf. The rage consuming him had many faces: fury, yes, but also pain, fear, and a wounded pride tearing his chest apart. Suddenly, he stopped and turned to Meixin, eyes bloodshot, his voice trembling as he uttered the next words:
—And the child?— he spat bitterly. —Were you planning to hide it forever? Did you think I would raise him as my own, while you gave yourself to another? Is that why you didn't tell me… because you knew he wasn't mine?
Meixin instinctively placed a hand on her belly, as if to shield the fragile life inside her from the poison spilling from her husband's lips. Tears welled in her eyes, but she dared not release them yet.
—Yun, please… it's not what you think. I was going to tell you… but I was afraid,— she said, her voice cracked, words stumbling in her throat.
He laughed. A bitter laugh, devoid of joy, filled with sarcasm and disdain.
—Afraid? What were you afraid of? That your lover would leave you? That I'd find out my name was being used to cover your shame? Meixin, you're quite the actress—even when you lie!
She shook her head, taking a step toward him.
—There was never anyone but you,— she whispered. —This child… is yours. I've never betrayed you, Yun.
But he no longer heard her. Fei's words echoed in his mind like poisoned chants: "A man leaving her pavilion… looked like Chen Lian." The image lodged like a thorn inside him, and every attempt from Meixin to defend herself only drove it deeper.
Yun's face hardened. In a furious impulse, he overturned the table beside him. The objects crashed to the floor with a dry thud. Meixin stepped back, startled, her hands covering her mouth to muffle a scream.
—Enough!— he shouted, as if pronouncing a sentence. —I don't care if you swear or beg! You chose this path, Meixin! You destroyed what little we had left!
She collapsed to her knees, the sobs finally bursting from her chest, yet still clinging to the hope that he would change his mind.
—No… please… don't do this to me,— she begged, voice trembling. —Not for me—but for our child…
But Yun saw only lies in her eyes. Lies disguised as tenderness. Lies that burned.
He turned toward the door with restrained fury and gave a sharp signal to the guards waiting outside.
—Take her to the cellar!— he ordered coldly, without even looking at her. —I don't want to see her. I don't want to hear her voice. I don't want her presence in this house. Let her rot in the dark.
The men obeyed without delay. Two guards approached and seized Meixin, who barely had the strength to resist. She kicked, screamed his name through tears, while being dragged toward the door.
—Yun! Listen to me, please! Don't do this to me! Please!—Her voice tore through the air, but he didn't turn. Not once.
—I'll make you pay for this humiliation,— he whispered, like venom, as she disappeared from view.
The hallway filled with the sound of footsteps, her distant screams fading into darkness. Then, silence. Only the echo of the cellar gate slamming shut.
Yun remained motionless for a long while, his back straight and his eyes vacant, staring at nothing. His heart beat fiercely, but a hollow had opened in his chest, impossible to fill.
The cellar welcomed her with sepulchral silence—cold and damp, as if its walls fed on her suffering. There, among the shadowed stones, she collapsed to the floor, pain coursing through her soul. As the doors closed behind her, the echo of the crash reverberated in her shattered chest, leaving her alone in the darkness, with only silence for company.