She didn't care at all about the surname Zhuge, nor did she care about the status of "Zhuge Manor's Eldest Daughter." If she could, she would rather not set foot in Zhuge Manor at all, would rather never have met Zhuge Jun, and would rather have died of illness in that simple thatched hut in the mountains during that hot summer.
In the most remote courtyard of Zhuge Manor, Zhuge Jingjun sat alone on the plank road on the water. In the middle of the artificial lake, there was the "Water Moon Pavilion" made of white marble, with its long gauze curtains dancing gracefully in the breeze, exuding elegance everywhere.
Most of the "old people" in the manor knew that the "Water Moon Pavilion" was a residence specially built by Zhuge Jun for a woman. It was built on water, superbly crafted, and took a lot of thought.
Unfortunately, the woman only lived in the Water Moon Pavilion for less than half a year before she passed away.
After that, Zhuge Jun cut off all access to the Water Moon Pavilion, burned the small boats moored on the lake shore, leaving this exquisite building isolated in the water. With the passage of time, it lost its beauty and fell into decline.
The Water Moon Pavilion was the forbidden place of Zhuge Manor.
Zhuge Jingjun forcibly wiped away the tears about to overflow from her eyes, looking at the white building shrouded in moonlight opposite with a complicated expression. After staring for a while, a figure seemed to appear between the pillars and corridors. The figure was dressed in white, graceful and elegant. Even the cold and monotonous air seemed to emit a faint fragrance because of her unparalleled beauty. Every place where she existed was like an orchid blooming quietly in the dark, deeply occupying your eyes and heart with the slowest and most understated feeling.
Except for her mother, except for the woman named Ni Xuechang, who else could achieve such a situation.
Zhuge Jun loved her mother for eighteen years, no, it should be longer, even before she was born.
Zhuge Jingjun lowered her head, a strong sense of powerlessness crawling all over her body. If he loved someone else, she would still have the confidence to compete with that person, she would still have the strength to fight for a home for her feelings, she would still have the reason to stand tall for all this. But the person he loved was Ni Xuechang.
This woman was not only her mother but also someone who had already passed away. There are two types of people in this world who one should not go toe-to-toe with: relatives and the dead. Confronting relatives, connected by blood, ultimately harms both others and oneself; confronting the dead, separated by life and death, only wastes one's own youth.
Zhuge Jingjun smiled bitterly. If everyone knew that the person she fell in love with was Zhuge Jun, they would probably do nothing but rain curses on her for committing the worst offense[1] and being delusional.
Eight years ago, when Zhuge Jun appeared in the hut where she and her mother lived, and picked her up from the sickbed that was already touched by the fingers of death, her young and fragile eyes were branded with the face of this man.
"With me here, nothing will happen to you."
She only remembered this sentence of what the man said.
In his broad and warm embrace, she experienced a kind of stability that she had never experienced before. It was a place completely different from her mother's arms.
He carried her into Zhuge Manor and thus into his life.
She changed her surname to Zhuge after her mother died of illness.
When he carefully wrote down the words "Zhuge Jingjun" on paper, she clearly saw a certain satisfaction and relief in his eyes.
Up until that point, she had no surname; her mother only called her Jingjun.
A child without a surname meant no father.
This important role had been missing from her life since she was born. Whenever the children in the village laughed at her for being a fatherless wild child[2], she would cry and ask her mother, "Where did Daddy go?" And her mother would always just hold her tightly in her arms, not saying a word, only shedding tears. Her mother's tears fell on her face, both scalding hot and cold, each drop carrying deep sorrow.
In her memory, her mother's favorite thing to do was talking to the water. Whether it was the clear springs flowing in the mountains or the raindrops falling from the sky. She always saw her mother carefully reach out her hand, cupping the water droplets, gazing at them spellbound, and then murmuring to herself.
She couldn't understand her mother's behavior, but slowly, she learned to ignore the taunts of those children and stopped asking her mother about her father. She was a sensible child, and a sensible child wouldn't always make her mother cry.
Before she was ten years old, she lived in that barren mountain village that didn't even have a name. Her mother relied on her excellent sewing skills, embroidering and darning for others, in exchange for meager income. And she herself, as early as four or five years old, would carry a bamboo basket almost as tall as herself up the mountain to pick various medicinal herbs or beautiful wildflowers, and give them to her mother to sell at the market.
Once, she slipped and fell off a cliff while trying to reach a medicinal herb growing on the mountainside. Fortunately, she survived. When she woke up, she found that she only suffered some superficial injuries.
When her anxiously searching mother found her, who had a lucky escape, she hugged her and cried while saying sorry.
If Zhuge Jun hadn't appeared, her life would have remained stagnant in that village, continuing in poverty and peace until the end of her life.
Everything changed on that hot summer day.
Her mother used up all her savings to invite a doctor, but he couldn't cure her typhoid fever.
She was ten years old that year, lying in bed as if on a cloud. Her consciousness flew far away, unable to return to her body, nor did it want to. In the distance, a blurry figure in white swayed, calling her name with affection and urgency...
Jingjun, Jingjun.
But it was Zhuge Jun who really woke her up, clad in black robes embroidered with domineering golden cloud patterns, far from the figure in her dream.
Zhuge Jun invited the most renowned doctors in the country and used the most precious medicinal materials to save her life.
But he couldn't save her mother.
What her mother drank was poisoned wine.
She still remembered her mother's appearance when she passed away. It was more like she was sinking into a beautiful dream, except that she would never awaken from this dream.
When the name Jingjun was given the surname Zhuge, with status, honor, wealth, and glory within reach, her parents were gone, taking family love and joy far beyond her reach.
The world saw her as Zhuge Jun's adopted daughter, but she never regarded him as her father, even though he had raised her until now.
She was in the closest proximity to him, using her right and proper identity to feel everything about this man. His high spirits when strategizing, his erudite elegance when reading and writing, his leisurely and tranquil demeanor when tired, the way he smiled, his angry expressions, all of it, were captured in detail in her eyes.
He had never married. Zhuge Jingjun understood that his heart had always remained in that secluded Water Moon Pavilion, never leaving and never allowing anyone close.
What kind of love could make a man's affection linger like this?
Zhuge Jingjun dared not delve too deep into such thoughts; the more she thought about it, the more the sense of loss she felt.
But even if she had no chance to get close to him in this life, then she would just stay by his side and watch him from afar. At least, she had the same surname as him, which was always another kind of comfort.
But now, he was about to personally hand her over to another man under the most noble pretext—happiness.
She knew that the one who proposed betrothing her to Feilong General was not really the emperor but him.
The emperor was a frequent visitor to Zhuge Manor, and private visits incognito were commonplace. That day, after three rounds of wine, with both host and guest drinking to their fill, the serving maid at his side overheard Zhuge Jun requesting the emperor's imperial decree to betroth her to Long Renyu.
He must be tired of her presence. Or, from the beginning, she was just an accessory to his feelings for her mother. He was good to her simply because she was Ni Xuechang's daughter. What mattered to him was Ni Xuechang, not her daughter. He had raised her, a sponger, for eight years, and that was enough.
The more Zhuge Jingjun thought about it, the sadder she became.
The cold air and dark night enveloped her body heavily, but suddenly, a strange warmth flowed through her wrist.
She raised her right hand, and there on her wrist was a simple glass bracelet, colorless and transparent. Upon closer inspection, there was a faint water ray flowing within.
This was the only keepsake her mother had left her, and she had worn it since she was a child. Her mother had instructed her to treat the bracelet as if it were her own life.
At first, she didn't think the bracelet was anything special, but later she realized that whenever she was truly sad and upset, the bracelet would change from cold to warm, kindly comforting her with a small but marvelous power, like the touch of a loved one's hand.
She grasped the glass bracelet and murmured, "You know I'm sad, right... He doesn't see me at all."
As soon as the words left her lips, she began to mock herself for being so stupid as to talk to a bracelet.
Lost in her emotions, shuttling between the present and the past, she was so focused that she didn't even notice when someone appeared behind her.
[1] 大逆不道: disgraceful behavior that is unfilial, rebellious or otherwise in grave breach of the norms of society.
[2] 野孩子: An insulting term referring to children in single-parent families.
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