18: The Yandere Warlord's Substitute Bride 18

Wen Ci sized up the old man, saw the jade Guanyin on his neck and the smooth, oily purple sandalwood prayer beads on his wrist, and suddenly chuckled.

"Third Uncle's prayer beads are quite beautiful," she said, lightly tapping her lips with her fingertips, her voice clear and cool like jade. "But I wonder if when you chant every day, you're reciting the 'Ksitigarbha Sutra' or... the 'Rebirth Mantra'?'"

The old man instinctively clutched his prayer beads, his expression changing slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Buddhism speaks of karma and retribution," Wen Ci said, slowly stepping forward, her clear voice carrying a profound meaning. "Since you believe in Buddha, don't you know what I'm talking about?"

The old man was so startled by her demeanor that he took half a step back.

"Whatever you've done, you might hide it from the world, but can you hide it from the deities you worship?" Wen Ci's smile gradually turned eerie.

The old man instantly felt a chill down his spine, almost uncontrollably stumbling and nearly falling to the ground. If the two people beside him hadn't supported him, he would have surely fallen.

He pointed at Wen Ci, trembling for a long time. "You..." He couldn't even utter a complete sentence.

Everyone else was also so frightened by Wen Ci's sudden display of aura that they didn't dare to breathe.

Before, they thought this Wen Ci was gentle and easy to get along with, but now it seemed she was not to be trifled with.

"You wear it every day to worship Buddha... are you truly not afraid that the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas will see the blood on your hands?"

The old man shrieked, and the jade Guanyin on his neck suddenly fell to the ground with a loud crack, shattering into pieces before everyone's eyes.

The old man's face turned pale. He stared disbelievingly at the jade Guanyin on the ground. He had cherished it for many years, and it was tied so securely with a rope; how could it possibly break?!

And even if it broke, how could it shatter so completely!

Could it be...

"Amitabha," Wen Ci said, pressing her palms together and smiling lightly. "You see, even the Bodhisattva has abandoned you."

The old man shrieked again, looking at Wen Ci in terror, growing more and more afraid.

He dared not look at Wen Ci anymore, turning instead to stare intently at General Fu, trembling for a long time before only managing to utter two words: "Cold-blooded..."

Wen Ci turned, raised her hand to cover General Fu's eyes, then turned back to the old man, her voice faint. "If my Chenzhou were truly cold-blooded, the grass on your grave would already be ten feet high."

General Fu's pupils constricted.

His heart pounded violently, making his eardrums ache.

He had endured too many insults and scoldings since childhood, so many that he couldn't count them, and he had long since grown accustomed to them.

He had never hoped that someone would stand up for him, and indeed, no one ever had.

But now, someone had.

Now, someone was standing in front of him, covering his eyes with a warm palm, speaking up for him.

Someone worried about him, someone was angry because of him.

She called him, 'my Chenzhou.'

Mine.

Yes.

He and she were family.

His other family members were no longer family.

He only had one family member.

That was his wife, Wen Ci.

General Fu's hand, hanging by his side, suddenly trembled. For the first time in over twenty years, he tasted a salty liquid slide past the corner of his mouth.

Fortunately, the night was deep, and fortunately, everyone was staring at the dazzling young woman, so no one noticed that the formidable General Fu was, at this moment, shedding tears.

Wen Ci felt the dampness under her palm. With one hand covering his eyes, she said coldly, "Husband, don't let these people dirty your eyes. Let's go." She then led him away.

It wasn't until their figures had departed that the people on the balcony finally let out a sigh of relief and resumed their activities.

The old man, meanwhile, collapsed to the ground, staring at the shattered Guanyin with empty eyes.

*

Once they reached a quiet, deserted place, the moment Wen Ci released his hand, General Fu abruptly pulled her into his embrace. The man's broad, firm arms enveloped her slender body.

He held her so tightly, as if clutching the only ray of light in his life.

For so many years, he had been accustomed to cold words, flattery, slander, and insults. This was the first time such a sincere woman had appeared by his side, protecting him.

He was truly, deeply moved.

"Wen Ci," he murmured into her neck, his voice hoarse and broken. "Thank you."

Thank you for standing by me so unreservedly.

Thank you for being willing to speak up for me.

Thank you for standing in front of me.

Those two words, 'thank you,' were heavy as a thousand pounds.

He had issued countless orders in his life, but he had never learned to say thank you.

Nor had there been anyone worth thanking.

Now, there was.

Her.

Wen Ci raised her fingertips and stroked his damp eyelids, saying softly, "Silly boy."

There was no need for him to say thank you to her.

The more gentle and tolerant she was, the more he felt like crying.

General Fu suddenly remembered something and abruptly turned his back, raising a hand to roughly wipe his eyes.

The emotions churning in his chest almost suffocated him. This unfamiliar weakness, this shameful dependence, was like exposing his most vulnerable throat to a blade.

He couldn't be like this.

He couldn't be weak, he couldn't cry, otherwise Wen Ci would surely despise and dislike him.

No woman wanted her man to be weak.

He couldn't cry.

"Chenzhou?"

Wen Ci's voice came from behind him, soft as a feather's touch, but he stiffened all over, instinctively about to put on his cold, hard mask.

He couldn't let her see... see him in such a pathetic state...

But he couldn't quite control himself.

He stood rigidly, unmoving, when a warm hand suddenly pressed against his back. Even through the fabric of his clothes, he could clearly feel her soft, warm palm.

"Turn around," she said softly. It wasn't a command, yet he couldn't resist.

General Fu turned stiffly. Without his gold-rimmed glasses, he lacked some of his usual asceticism, and his reddened eyes instead added a touch of fragile vulnerability.

Wen Ci looked up at his eyes, which dared not meet hers, and actively cupped his face. "Look at me."

General Fu's breath hitched. He pursed his lips, then slowly looked at her.

He saw Wen Ci looking up, her eyes devoid of the expected disdain or disappointment, only a gentle clarity.

His lips couldn't help but droop, and his eyes grew even more sore.

How long, how long had it been since he had felt such tenderness?

Such a gaze seemed capable of embracing all his unworthiness.

No one had ever looked at him with such eyes, not even his mother.

All love in this world had prerequisites.

He had to be strong enough to deserve love.

"It's very embarrassing, isn't it?" He managed a forced, cold laugh, but his voice was hoarse and broken. "The great General Fu actually..."

Wen Ci suddenly stood on tiptoe, kissing away the dampness overflowing from his eyes, and also kissing away the strength he had feigned.

"My husband," her lips murmured against his skin, "is the most deserving person of love in the world."

As moonlight streamed down, her eyes seemed to hold swirling stars when she spoke those words.

General Fu trembled all over, his pupils suddenly contracting, as if he had heard some incredible, fantastical tale.

"No, no need to coax me," his voice was so hoarse it was almost a whisper, even stuttering slightly. He instinctively wanted to turn his face away, but she held him gently and firmly.

Although he said this, he still tried his best to bend down, allowing his wife to do whatever she wished with him.

"I'm not coaxing you," Wen Ci said, standing on tiptoe and rubbing her nose against his. "Just be yourself."

She gazed into the deepest darkness of his eyes, saying each word clearly, "Because I will always stand by you."

These words were like a sharp sword, precisely piercing the cold, hard wall he had built around his heart for years.

General Fu suddenly began to tremble violently, and hot tears gushed out uncontrollably.

All the grievances, loneliness, and fears that had been suppressed for years now poured out like a flood. He was like a child lost for many years, finally finding his way home.

He had never been allowed to express his emotions.

All grievances, pain, and indignation had to be hidden.

Because no one would be willing to bear his emotions, no one would unconditionally embrace everything about him.

So he could only hide them, only digest them slowly on his own.

From a very young age, he had been forced to be a cold and hardened adult; all the emotions a child should have were not allowed to appear in him.

He thought he might have to live his entire life this way.

Always hiding everything about himself.

He thought no one would ever accept and embrace all of him.

But, he hadn't expected.

To meet Wen Ci.

"Wh-why..." he choked, allowing himself to be so disheveled in front of someone for the first time in his life.

Wen Ci embraced his trembling body, feeling his hot tears fall on her head. She gently stroked his taut back, comforting him again and again, "Because you are General Fu."

That simple sentence made General Fu cry even harder. He clutched her clothes tightly, as if grasping the only piece of driftwood in his life.

The shackles of being demanded to be strong, to be ruthless, to be perfect for so many years, crumbled at this moment.

It turned out that simply being "General Fu" was enough to be deeply loved.

His voice trembled, "A' Ci, will you think I'm too weak?"

Wen Ci's body trembled slightly. She looked up at the tears streaking down his eyes and smiled. "Daring to cry in front of me requires more courage than killing enemies on the battlefield."

These words were like a key, clicking open the deepest lock in his heart.

General Fu suddenly buried his face in her neck, his tall body trembling slightly. Wen Ci felt warm liquid seep into her collar, but she said nothing, only gently patted his back, like comforting a startled beast.

"When I was little," his muffled voice came, "they said crying was a sign of weakness..."

"They were wrong," Wen Ci interrupted him, her fingertips running through his hair. "Tears are the language of the heart, and I'm very happy that you're willing to speak it to me."

General Fu sniffled and tightened his arms, holding her securely in his embrace.

It was so good.

Having her there.

It was so good.