Volume One: Flames at the Border Chapter Thirty: Playing Matchmaker

How could such a wretched affair fall upon my head, He Yu thought, skulking past his own courtyard and approaching the side door in the eastern wall of the Lan Residence. He rapped gently on the door knocker, and soon a maidservant, clearly irritated, came to open it.

Since Chen Qingyun was an unmarried young lady, all the servants within Lan Residence were women, girls, or children. After the day’s business was concluded, the doors would be shut and locked by dusk.

He Yu’s visit at this hour was, to say the least, untimely. Chen Qingyun was the second-in-command within the stronghold, mistress of the inner household, and her servants were notorious for their overbearing arrogance.

“Who’s there, coming to call at such an hour? Are you not afraid the mistress will be angry?”

“I am He Yu. Please inform Lady Chen that I have urgent business to discuss with her.”

The moment the maid heard his name—a favorite of the fortress lord—her attitude changed entirely. She became all smiles, fawning and obsequious, and hurried off to announce him, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

He Yu lingered outside the wall, nervous as a thief, afraid that Deng’er might appear out of nowhere and make trouble.

Soon the maid returned, apologetic. “Commander He, the mistress has retired for the night. She said if there’s anything, it can wait until tomorrow. Forgive us.” With that, she slowly closed the side door.

He Yu glanced at the sky; it was only the end of the Shen hour—around five o’clock at most. Who would go to bed so early? Clearly, Chen Qingyun was sulking with him.

Turned away at the door, He Yu didn’t mind in the least. The whole affair was troublesome and thankless; if Chen Qingyun refused to see him, he could use that as an excuse to brush the matter aside. If Lady Chen wouldn’t receive him, Li Jun could hardly blame him.

Relieved, He Yu shook his head and planned to circle around Lan Residence and return home via a small path through the northern courtyard. The north gate of Lan Residence opened into a peach grove, the blossoms in full splendor.

As he approached the north gate, it creaked open just a crack. A breeze scattered petals like rain, and in that floral shower stood a breathtakingly beautiful young woman, her robes fluttering, her figure graceful—it was Chen Qingyun herself.

He Yu’s cheeks flushed. He bowed and said, “Greetings, Lady Chen.” Chen Qingyun returned the courtesy with elegant poise, smiling softly. “Sir He, please follow me.”

He Yu’s heart pounded in his chest. Fearing they’d be seen, he darted behind her and hurried into the courtyard.

Lan Residence was spacious, with many rooms front and rear. Whenever He Yu consulted Chen Qingyun on business, it was always in the front hall. This rear court was her private inner quarters; he had never set foot here.

He worried about running into others—rumors could be ruinous. But as they entered, not a soul was in sight; evidently, Chen Qingyun had sent everyone away.

Suddenly, He Yu’s heart leapt. Chen Qingyun, hopelessly in love with him, had finally found a chance for them to be alone—of course, she would not allow anyone to disturb them.

Chen Qingyun led the way, her steps light and fragrant. They ascended to the second floor; the room to the east was her boudoir, resplendent with gold and jade. An incense burner shaped like a beast’s head sent up delicate trails of smoke, perfuming the air with rare spices—a luxury that put the simplicity of his own bedroom to shame.

He Yu had never been anywhere so enchanting, and didn’t know what to do with his hands. Chen Qingyun knelt gracefully, motioning for him to sit opposite her.

He Yu complied. Chen Qingyun poured him tea herself, and, half-teasing, asked, “You were so heartless to me the other day. Have you come to apologize, or do you truly have something important to say?”

She smiled, lips pursed, the picture of bashful affection. At first, He Yu had mistaken her for a strong-willed woman, but the more they interacted, the more he saw her true, tender nature.

He Yu blushed, cleared his throat, and replied, “You jest, Lady Chen. I am truly sorry for offending you the other day. But today I do have a matter to discuss.”

Chen Qingyun sighed softly. “Sir He, you are made of stone; you care nothing for my feelings. If you have business, speak.”

He Yu was mortified but pressed on. “Brother Bojun cares for you deeply, but he cannot understand why you do not return his affections. So... he asked me to inquire on his behalf... to act as a go-between.”

He forced himself to finish, sweating with embarrassment. Chen Qingyun was in love with him, yet he had rejected her and now had come to play matchmaker. Such an offense could easily be seen as pity, as if she were someone no one wanted.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than He Yu regretted them. He should have refused Li Jun outright. One must learn to say “no” in life.

Sure enough, at his words, Chen Qingyun seemed struck by lightning. Her delicate brows arched, her eyes filled with tears, and she laughed coldly again and again. “Sir He, you meddle too much! Since you do not care for me, whom I marry is none of your concern. Do you truly think I am so unworthy as to need your pity? Outrageous!”

“They say Sir He is a rare talent, extraordinary in both mind and bearing. I, too, have admired you.”

“But I see now: you have talent but no virtue. You are a heartless, petty man.”

“I was blind to have misjudged you. I brought this shame upon myself!”

She wailed, her grief growing until she collapsed over the table in sobs.

He Yu was at a complete loss, unable to sit or stand. He wanted to comfort her but had no words, so he sat awkwardly, watching her shoulders shake with sorrow.

After a long while, her sobs faded. She raised her face, makeup streaked with tears, eyes swollen and averted, silent.

He Yu’s heart ached. In desperation, he bowed deeply. “I was disrespectful—please forgive me, Lady Chen. My brother Bojun asked me to come; I spoke without thinking and was out of line.”

“Please, Sir He, do not!” Chen Qingyun hadn’t expected such a formal gesture and hastily reached to stop him. Their hands met; both felt an unfamiliar tremor stir within.

Though their ranks differed, He Yu was no servant of the Chen clan; as a man and a prominent figure in the stronghold, such a humble bow was most unusual, which was why Chen Qingyun moved to prevent it.

He Yu, a man from the modern age, had only a vague notion of such formalities and did not take them seriously. To him, it was nothing to kneel before a beautiful woman.

Chen Qingyun, seeing how much he cared for her feelings, felt her anger melt away. She gently withdrew her hand and asked, “What did Li Bojun say to you? What message did you bring?”

She had often been angry with He Yu, but whenever she saw him in distress, her resentment seemed to vanish—she even wondered if she had been too harsh.

He Yu gathered his thoughts and explained Li Jun’s accidental killing of his wife.

Chen Qingyun replied coldly, “Li Bojun is ten years my senior. I have always regarded him as an elder brother. That he killed his wife was wrong, but it is no concern of mine. I do not love him, nor have I ever. Do you truly not know the reason, Sir He?”

Her voice, soft and wistful, made sweat break out on He Yu’s brow once more.

Chen Qingyun fixed her gaze on him, waiting for his answer.

He Yu had never been so ill at ease; his words trembled. “Lady Chen, you honor me beyond measure. I can never repay your kindness. But since I have already wed Deng’er, I can only let you down, only let you down...”

“Hmph, I knew you would say that. But have you considered, with your talents, you could rise swiftly in the world? Deng’er is a fine woman, but she was born a maid. If not for your own sake, have you not thought of your talents?”

She twirled a lock of hair at her temple, her tone aggrieved. Her analysis was not without merit—Eastern Jin society prized family background. He Yu’s origins were mysterious, but his gifts were exceptional; if he married into a powerful family, his prospects would be limitless. But with Deng’er’s humble birth, she would inevitably hinder his ambitions.

In that era, it was expected that men of status would take concubines. But with Deng’er as his primary wife, any secondary wives would be beneath her in rank. Thus, marriage could no longer change He Yu’s social standing.

He Yu understood all this well. Yet Deng’er had saved his life, and he loved her deeply. Compared to his feelings for her, fame and fortune were fleeting illusions. Coming from the modern world, with no family ties, he was far less attached to worldly success.

Having thought it through, He Yu spoke firmly. “Every word you say is true, but since I have married Deng’er, we are bound as one—sharing life and death, enduring hardship together. Compared to her, I care nothing for rank or wealth.”

“And what about me?” Chen Qingyun asked sadly. “Since you have married Deng’er, am I too nothing to you?”

He Yu’s own impassioned words moved him, yet Chen Qingyun turned them back on him, posing a dilemma. If he said she mattered, it would sound insincere; if not, it would seem heartless.

He Yu was utterly at a loss, his usual quick wit gone. He opened his mouth but only stammered, unable to form a coherent reply.

Chen Qingyun managed a bitter smile, her eyes glistening. “Sir He, you are so flustered you cannot even speak to me. Very well, let me ask one last question: if Deng’er did not exist, or if I had met you before she did, would you have married me?”

The question was ambiguous but demanded an answer. After a long pause, He Yu regained his composure, thought for a moment, and bowed deeply.

“If that were the case, I would gladly take you as my wife.”

Chen Qingyun was stunned; she hadn’t expected such an unequivocal answer. Her heart leaped, but then sorrow washed over her.

He Yu’s certainty showed he did not dislike her, but also emphasized that fate had decreed they would never be together.

Ah, how passionate and yet how resolute is Sir He.

Having spoken, He Yu felt a sense of relief. Seeing that night had fallen, he knew it was time to take his leave.

“Lady Chen, rest well. It grows late—I must go.” With a bow, he started downstairs.

Chen Qingyun, feeling desolate, returned the gesture. “Allow me to see you out.”

They descended, walked through the corridors, and passed through the shadows of blossoms to the north gate. He Yu turned, bowed, and said, “Please, Lady Chen, go no further. Thank you for seeing me out. Farewell.”