Chapter Thirty: The Duke of Peaceful Joy Goes Mad (5k)

Although it was already bright outside, the Duke of Anle’s room remained shrouded in gloom. The doors, windows, and bed curtains were all tightly shut, causing the sunlight filtering in from outside to turn into a desolate, sickly grey in the blink of an eye.

The air inside the room was heavy with decay. When Zhang Ximiao pushed the door open, a stench of alcohol so potent it felt as if it were rotting hit her, forcing her to cough slightly.

As she took a few more steps forward, the atmosphere in the room became even more indescribable. Scraps of spoiled food were scattered haphazardly on the floor, alongside various yellowed and misshapen garments belonging to both men and women. Beside the bed stood a low table cluttered with a variety of wine vessels. Beneath the table, the charcoal in the brazier was still smoldering faintly, and judging by the accumulated ash, it seemed no one had tended to it for two or three days.

The sight made Ximiao frown even deeper, and she turned her gaze to the Duke of Anle, who was fast asleep on the bed.

Indeed, Liu Xun was lying stark naked on the bed, having kicked away two of the three layers of heavy winter quilts. A disheveled concubine lay sprawled across his chest, equally naked. Looking over, Ximiao noticed that although the concubine remained silent, her body was trembling slightly. Clearly, she was already awake, but finding herself in the presence of the lady of the house and fearing she might wake the Duke, she had no choice but to remain perfectly still, feigning sleep.

Zhang Ximiao sighed inwardly. In the beginning, such sights would have made her angry with Liu Xun, but by now, she had grown somewhat numb. She made no attempt to hide her presence. First, she picked up a few garments that were still relatively clean, then straightened her posture and walked slowly to the wooden window, pushing it open directly.

The daylight and cold wind, which had been waiting for a long time, swept into the room in an instant. The chamber suddenly brightened, and as the bed curtains were pulled aside, the chill crawled over Liu Xun’s entire body, jolting him awake in a panic.

"Who?" the Duke of Anle shouted, sitting up abruptly and shoving the concubine aside. He squinted toward the light, and upon realizing it was his wife, he let out a breath and relaxed, asking irritably, "Why have you returned? Didn’t we agree that you should rest and look after your pregnancy?"

Zhang Ximiao walked over, her belly protruding, and threw the clothes onto Liu Xun. "I have something to discuss with you."

"What is it?"

"It concerns Piji."

"I thought it was something important." Hearing that the matter concerned Liu Xian, Liu Xun simply lay back down on the bed, squinting his eyes listlessly. "His affairs have always been decided by you; why bother coming to ask me? Just decide it yourself."

Seeing the Duke of Anle display such habitual indifference, Zhang Ximiao could not help but feel a flicker of anger. She tossed the clothes onto the bed. "It is indeed a major matter."

"What major matter?"

"Piji’s marriage."

After Ximiao spoke, she waited for the Duke of Anle’s response, but Liu Xun remained silent. After a moment, Ximiao felt curious and scrutinized him closely, only to discover his chest rising and falling rhythmically, accompanied by the faint sound of snoring. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he had fallen into a deep sleep.

Zhang Ximiao stood there, momentarily stunned. She turned to look at the leafless willow branches dancing outside the window, her mind filled with countless thoughts while her heart felt an immense sense of loneliness.

When she was married, it was also in the first month of the year. There had been a small pond and willow trees outside, but then, the spring breeze had been warm and the willow leaves as fine as silk. She had been only fourteen at the time, sad to leave her home yet happy to be marrying into the imperial family. The night before her wedding, her mother had spoken with her all night long, shedding so many tears—some of joy, some of sorrow—that their eyes were red and swollen when they parted.

At that time, the Prince of Xinxing, Liu Xun, was only sixteen—a youth with a fair face and a refreshing smile. When he led the carriage to the Zhang residence, he personally distributed gifts to the children and elders gathered in front of the manor. The air had been filled with laughter and joy, vibrant beyond measure. When Ximiao emerged in her wedding attire, the two young people had looked at each other shyly amidst the blessings of the crowd; she had felt a premonition that their happiness would last forever.

Yet that was a very, very long time ago. Now, gazing out the window, bathed in the desolate northern wind of Luoyang, Zhang Ximiao felt as if she had never truly lived at all.

"My Lady?" The Duke’s concubine, sensing that something was wrong, whispered, "You are carrying a child. Please do not stand in the cold wind; be careful not to upset your pregnancy."

Zhang Ximiao turned to look at her. After a moment, she finally remembered her name and smiled. "You are Xingnü, aren't you? Do not worry, I am not so fragile. I have matters to discuss with his Lordship. Since you are awake, put on your clothes and leave early."

"But if his Lordship gets angry..."

"I am here. Do not worry."

Xingnü hurriedly got up, cautious not to disturb Liu Xun yet afraid to disobey the mistress. After dressing, she bowed to Zhang Ximiao and hurried away.

Watching her leave, Zhang Ximiao turned her gaze back to her husband. She moved once more, sat directly on the edge of the bed, and touched his face with her cold right hand.

This jolted Liu Xun awake again. Seeing his wife’s face, he immediately pushed her hand away and complained, "Why are you still here? Didn't I tell you? Just decide Piji's matter yourself."

Zhang Ximiao remained unmoved. She gripped Liu Xun’s hand and, with an unprecedented seriousness, stared straight into his eyes. "Liulang, this is not a small matter! It is Piji’s marriage!"

"What?!" Liu Xun heard her clearly this time. He sat up and asked, "When did this happen? Why didn't I know?"

Zhang Ximiao let go of his hand, sighed inwardly again, and replied slowly, "It was just yesterday. A family sent a marriage proposal through the younger Duke of Ruan, which is why I came to discuss it with you."

"What kind of family? It wouldn't be some humble house, would it?" Liu Xun draped a robe over his shoulders and said dismissively, "If their status is too low, just refuse them directly!"

Zhang Ximiao pretended not to hear him. If the Princess of Juancheng hadn't taken the initiative to propose, would he even have had a choice? The reason Piji remained unmarried until now was precisely because of the Duke of Anle’s unrealistic expectations. Her husband seemed to live in a floating world, completely unaware of what life was truly like. She simply said, "They are not a humble family; they are our social equals."

"Social equals? What family?"

"The House of the Duke of Juancheng."

"The Duke of Juancheng..."

"The Grand Tutor to the Crown Prince, Cao Zhi, Lord Yunggong!"

Upon hearing this name, Liu Xun fully awakened. He looked at Zhang Ximiao with suspicion and asked, word by word, "You mean the grandson of Cao Cao, the son of Cao Zhi, and the childhood friend of Sima Yan?"

"Why would he come to propose?"

"This is how it happened."

Ximiao summarized the encounter between Liu Xian and the Duke of Juancheng at the younger Duke of Ruan's place, and how he had won the Duke's favor. She highlighted the excellence of her child and the impact this engagement would have on Liu Xian’s future, hoping her husband would grasp the significance and not let other thoughts take root.

Concluding, Ximiao said, "The upbringing in the Duke of Juancheng’s household is excellent. That he has taken a fancy to Piji is a blessing of the highest order. When the younger Duke of Ruan arrives, even if there are excessive conditions, we must accommodate them. We must ensure this marriage succeeds."

The Duke of Anle did not speak for a while, appearing to fall into deep thought.

Zhang Ximiao had feared he would explode with anger, spouting nonsense about how a great-grandson of Liu Bei could not marry a great-granddaughter of Cao Cao, claiming it was a disgrace to their ancestors. Since that did not happen, she felt slightly reassured and waited for his reply.

However, the Duke’s silence lasted a bit too long. He dressed in silence, paced the room twice, and still did not speak. This made Ximiao suspicious. "Is something wrong?"

"My Lady," Liu Xun said slowly, "I feel there is a trap in this."

This statement was nonsensical, leaving Zhang Ximiao even more confused. "Liulang, what are you saying? Is this not just a marriage?"

"You don't understand." Liu Xun stroked his chin, his expression grim. "This looks like a marriage, but in reality, it is a snare—it is a stratagem of Sima Yan!"

"A stratagem?"

"Our family has never had dealings with the House of the Duke of Juancheng. Decades ago, our ancestors were mortal enemies. How could people like them propose an alliance with our family for no reason?"

"It is not for no reason..."

The Duke of Anle waved his hand to interrupt his wife and turned his gaze to the window. "Don't listen to his talk of admiring Piji. How many young men has Cao Zhi seen in his long life? To suddenly take a liking to a brat like Piji—that is clearly just an excuse. He says he wants to marry his daughter to us, but he must have ulterior motives..."

In all the world, how many children are like Piji? Hearing her husband’s prejudice against their child, Zhang Ximiao wanted to shout: As a father, why do you look down on your own legitimate son?

But she also understood that for Liu Xun, who never paid attention to his children, this would only provoke his contrarian nature.

She had to suppress her dissatisfaction and change the subject. "What could they possibly plot against our family?"

"Good question!" Liu Xun, unable to see Ximiao’s expression, became increasingly excited and fluent. "What could the Cao clan possibly plot against the Liu clan? Of course, it is to find a way to exterminate us and take revenge!"

"If Piji marries that girl, whatever her name is, once she enters our household, after some time, couldn't she frame us under the name of being Piji’s wife? Whether it's accusations of lèse-majesté, conspiracy to rebel, or spreading sorcery—even without evidence, with Cao Zhi’s connections and influence, couldn't he turn it into an ironclad case?! At that point, our entire family would be headed for the executioner's block!"

What utter nonsense! Zhang Ximiao could no longer bear to listen. Talking about extermination at every turn—did he think killing people was like slaughtering chickens? And framing them—did they need to marry into the family for that? They could solve it by bribing a servant. To sacrifice a daughter for such a goal—he was far too self-important! But she could not say this, for it would shatter his fragile self-esteem and drive him into a frenzy. She could only continue to persuade him circuitously.

"The Duke of Juancheng has been an official for decades without a single enemy. This shows his gentle nature. How could he do such a thing?"

Clearly, persuasion was futile. Liu Xun easily dismissed his wife’s doubt. "You are right. I saw Cao Zhi at the annual ceremony; he is aged and weary. He lacks the heart, and perhaps the courage. But what if Sima Yan is pulling the strings behind the scenes? They are childhood friends. How could Sima Yan not know about the marriage? It is impossible!"

"Furthermore, a while ago, Sima Yan put on a show with a factional dispute, dismissing Cao Zhi, only for them to 'accidentally' meet through Ruan Xian. Is this not a ruse to dispel our concerns? I know him too well. Sima Yan appears benevolent but is as treacherous as his grandfather. It is a chain of schemes, and he is waiting for us right here!"

Having deduced this, the Duke of Anle reached an ironclad conclusion. His eyes were as firm as if he had witnessed the Emperor and the Duke of Juancheng plotting the entire process. He muttered to himself, "Everything makes sense now, it all makes sense..."

Finally, he declared with finality, "My Lady, we must not fall into this trap!"

Zhang Ximiao was in despair. Before coming, she had expected Liu Xun to refuse. After all, she knew her husband could never forget the national feud and family hatred; that was not entirely blameworthy—she felt the same. She had intended to use a wife’s gentleness to dissolve the resentment in the Duke’s heart. But she never imagined his refusal would take such a bizarre form, bordering on delusion.

Sima Yan was the current Emperor. If he wanted to kill someone, why go to such lengths? Would he painstakingly scheme against the Duke of Anle, even going so far as to struggle against his own brothers?

Even if what her husband said were true—even if it were an imperial plot—if they refused this time, what then? Could they escape next time? When Sima Zhao killed Ji Kang, he used the charge of "harming the times and corrupting morals." Was her husband not even more "fitting" for such a charge than Ji Kang?

At this point, Ximiao no longer knew how to care for Liu Xun’s feelings. The Duke of Anle seemed to live in an entirely different world; he could not see Piji’s growth, could not see the goodwill of others, and could not even see his own wretchedness and insignificance. It seemed that everyone and everything in the world existed solely to influence his thoughts and moods; otherwise, they had no meaning.

How could she continue to submit to him? She had submitted for so long. If she forced herself to submit this time, what about the next? And the time after that? Lies only led to more lies. There was no end in sight to such a life.

At the same time, Ximiao realized with sorrow that she no longer recognized her own husband. All she could do now was express her true thoughts and opinions to him, to try and wake him up!

So, Ximiao said, "No."

She looked at her husband, tired yet resolute. "No!"

Liu Xun turned around abruptly. His bloodshot eyes met her clear ones. The Duke of Anle asked in disbelief, "Are you mad?"

"You are the one who is mad." Zhang Ximiao stared at her husband, stating in an extremely calm voice, "You just spoke a heap of nonsense."

Liu Xun’s eyes widened. In the sunlight, the veins on his forehead bulged, and his brows began to twitch uncontrollably. "Don't you understand? This is Sima Yan’s strategy—a strategy to put us to death!"

"What evidence do you have?"

"Isn't it obvious? Why would I need evidence?"

"This is your delusion." Zhang Ximiao said each word clearly. "Liulang, look at yourself. Why don't you look in a mirror? Do you really need someone to frame you with a conspiracy? You are already living a life worse than death."

"Hahaha, you really are mad. Where am I..." The Duke of Anle wanted to continue his lecture, but after hearing her words, he subconsciously glanced at the bronze mirror nearby and froze. The person in the mirror was disheveled, hair unkempt, face so emaciated that his cheekbones protruded sharply, his complexion pale and hollow like a ghost. Combined with those bloodshot eyes, he looked like a monster seeking lives.

Is this me? The Duke of Anle did not recognize the reflection, nor was he willing to admit it. He hurriedly turned away, muttering, "Someone poisoned me, someone must have poisoned me..." Then, as if waking from a nightmare, he shouted, "There are assassins! Catch them—"

*Slap.* The Duke of Anle’s voice was cut off.

He looked at his wife in disbelief. Zhang Ximiao’s hand remained raised, not yet pulled back.

Zhang Ximiao looked at the Duke of Anle with sorrow, pearls of tears rolling down her cheeks. Though she tried to keep her voice calm, her body could not stop trembling. "Liulang, wake up... If you continue like this, how can you face the ancestors of the Great Han? How can you face your older brother..."

The Duke of Anle seemed to understand something. He stood up, returning her gaze with equal sorrow, his hysterical state fading. He whispered, "So, it was you who poisoned me..."

Then, he smiled desolately, stepped closer, and asked in a low voice, "You can't stand it anymore, either, and you want to abandon me, don't you?"

He placed his hands on Ximiao’s shoulders, forcing her back a few steps like iron tongs, and continued, "Back in Chengdu, it was actually all my fault, wasn't it?"

As he spoke, Ximiao was pressed against the wall. Liu Xun could no longer contain himself and roared, "Actually, that day, the one who should have died was me, wasn't it?!"

When emotions erupt like a blazing fire, reason becomes nothing more than fuel. Unprecedented rage and violence dominated the Duke of Anle, leaving only one thought in his mind: to vent and seek revenge against something.

In that process, he had no consciousness, only the gratification of catharsis. It was like a prisoner on the execution ground in autumn, finally awaiting the clean, decisive stroke of the blade, wiping away the pain and depression of years.

When the Duke of Anle regained his sanity and slowly came to, the sight before him left him stunned.

Zhang Ximiao lay unconscious on the bed, eyes closed, lips pale. Her protruding belly was now flat, and scarlet blood dripped from her dress, forming a small pool on the floor, in which lay a formless mass of flesh.

Liu Xun stared at everything before him, motionless.

The noon of the first month was quiet. Footsteps approached from afar—it was Xingnü, having heard the commotion, followed by Liu Xian.

Liu Xun felt as if his entire body had been drained of energy. He did not know how to face them, nor how to explain. He could not believe he had committed such a horrific error. Was this a hallucination? A nightmare? The Duke of Anle tried to summon the rage he had felt while lashing out, hoping it would allow him to stand there with some semblance of justification, but there was nothing. This only deepened his panic.

This panic was like a demon devouring Liu Xun, enveloping him from all sides. As the footsteps reached the door, Liu Xun could bear it no longer. He felt profoundly ridiculous, yet he had to continue being ridiculous. He leapt out the window, fleeing into the shadows of the woods, and ran without stopping.

Behind his panicked silhouette, there was only the sound of Liu Xian’s heart-wrenching wails.