SGEIRS -Chapter 459 Watching His Misfortune

Gu Jingxi furrowed his brows even tighter. He believed he had already made himself perfectly clear, yet the other person still dared to ask such a question. Without hesitation, he replied, “I have never loved you.”

After speaking, he added, “The one who truly loved you for over a decade is Wei Heng.”

Hearing the first part of his words, Mei Qingyun felt disbelief in her heart. But when she heard the second part, her mind jolted violently.

Gu Jingxi continued, “Miss Mei, you are intelligent and should understand the meaning behind that divorce decree.”

He looked at Mei Qingyun with a faint curl of his eyes, calm and measured: “Others might think that Wei Heng divorced you because you remained childless for so many years, but those who know the truth understand the real reason. My safe return to the capital signifies that the Wei family’s fortunes are over; there is no chance of recovery. That divorce decree was meant to completely sever your ties from the Wei family, to spare you from any entanglement.”

At these words, Mei Qingyun’s shock could no longer be concealed. She stared at Gu Jingxi, astonished and stupefied.

Gu Jingxi gave a slight nod toward her: “Miss Mei, I bid you farewell.” After saying this, he glanced toward the pavilion. When his eyes fell on that graceful figure, they softened, and he strode toward the pavilion.

Mei Qingyun turned her head, watching Gu Jingxi leave without looking back. Her expression wavered as memories from over a decade ago came flooding back, when she and Gu Jingxi had first laid eyes on each other.

At that time, her mother told her that the Gu family intended to form a marital alliance with theirs. She had been overjoyed; Gu Jingxi was talented, handsome, and the ideal husband in the eyes of many young women—also, the best match in her heart.

The two families agreed to visit the temple together. Upon meeting, after paying respects to Madam Gu, her mother said: “Yun’er, this is your Third Brother Gu—the youngest son of Uncle Gu you saw the other day. He has come to meet you.”

Shyly and hesitantly, she said, “Mother, I have met Third Brother Gu at the poetry gathering. I wonder if he still remembers me.”

Gu Jingxi was polite. He only glanced at her once and did not look further. He replied, “Miss Mei, I have long admired you.”

“Long admired you.”

The words said only at a first meeting. This meant he hadn’t noticed her at the poetry gathering, so there was nothing to remember. She had felt disappointed at the time, but to her delight, Gu Jingxi had agreed to the marriage.

Their relationship began with “Miss Mei, I have long admired you” and ended with “Miss Mei, I bid you farewell.” Or perhaps, it had never truly begun—ending before it started. Gu Jingxi had never loved her. They had only been engaged by the arrangement of their parents.

Never loved.

For years, what she had firmly believed was overturned. These four words left her utterly ashamed of her own misplaced affections.

These four words told her she had lost. What she had assumed was mutual was, in fact, only her one-sided wishful thinking. She recalled how she had boldly told Wei Heng that Gu Jingxi loved her deeply, angering him time and again. Now, she felt the sting of humiliation.

She had relied on Gu Jingxi’s love for her, for his refusal to marry another for over a decade, to assert herself against Wei Heng, and to justifiably resent him for ruining her life. She had felt righteous because Gu Jingxi’s devotion had shielded her from that, something Wei Heng could never do.

Because of her hatred for Wei Heng, she had been able to take for granted the freedom granted by that divorce decree at a crucial moment. She had felt Wei Heng owed her—that it was her due.

Now, Gu Jingxi had said: “I have never loved you. The one who truly loved you for over a decade is Wei Heng.”

Mei Qingyun turned her head away, no longer following his departing figure with her eyes. She did not want to see the loving scenes between Gu Jingxi and Meng Jinyao. She looked at the snow-covered ground, vast and white, but her mind was blank.

A single, simple sentence—not only had it shattered her perception, it was like a powder keg with endless destructive force, obliterating the pillar that had supported her for so many years, leaving her no grounds for self-righteousness—not even self-deception.

Suddenly, it was as if something had drained all her strength. She collapsed, powerless, onto the snow.

Her maid, standing not far away, rushed over when she saw her mistress in such a state. Seeing her sorrowful face, her tear-filled eyes, the two streams of tears sliding down her cheeks, the maid knew without asking that the Marquis of Changxing must have rejected her. She hurriedly said, “Miss, it’s bitterly cold today. The ground is freezing. Please get up first.”

Mei Qingyun lifted her head and looked at her maid. After a moment, she suddenly smiled: “I lost… but he didn’t win either. He and I are just two pitiable people.”

The maid did not understand: “Miss, what are you saying?”

Mei Qingyun did not answer. Tears streamed down her face. She cried and laughed at once, fully lost in her sorrow.

Returning to early October:

Back then, when Wei Heng was sentenced to be beheaded publicly, the day before his execution, Mei Qingyun, for reasons even she didn’t fully understand, secretly went to the prison with food and wine to visit him.

Everything had been settled, and there was no chance of redemption. Wei Heng was unusually calm, prepared to face the beheading and the meal of his last supper. After all, he had reached this point—regret would be useless.

“Here, Wei Heng is in that cell—a criminal sentenced to death. What’s so worth looking at?”

“Thank you, sir. Just a small token—consider it a drink offered to you, please accept it.”

Suddenly, Wei Heng heard the conversation between a jailer and a woman. He instinctively looked toward the sound, seeing a slender woman with her face veiled, carrying a food box and walking gracefully.

Wei Heng was very surprised by Mei Qingyun’s arrival. At a time like this, even if someone were to visit, it shouldn’t have been her—but the impossible had become possible.

The jailer opened the cell door, let Mei Qingyun in, and closed it again. He said to her, “You have at most two quarters of an hour. Make it brief.”

Mei Qingyun nodded: “Alright, thank you, sir.”

The jailer left, secretly sighing at Wei Heng’s fortune. On the verge of death, he still had someone come to see him.

Wei Heng frowned: “Why did you come? To laugh at me?”

Mei Qingyun glanced at him. He no longer had his former elegance, wearing prison clothes, his face haggard, unkempt for a long time, stubble on his face, much thinner.

Though downcast, he had not yet developed middle-aged weight. His appearance still carried traces of his youthful charm.

Over a decade ago, Wei Heng had stood like an orchid or jade tree—a strikingly handsome man.

Mei Qingyun withdrew her gaze and sneered: “Yes, I came to see you laughable—to see you reduced from a court official to a prisoner. Besides that, I’ve come to see you off, for the sake of the years we were once married.”