Chapter Eleven: Breaking Off the Engagement (Part Two)

“Proposing marriage?”

Qin Luo was momentarily stunned, then forced an awkward smile. It seemed this old man was indeed aware of the engagement; otherwise, how could he so readily assume that Qin Luo had come to propose? Of course, he must also have great confidence in his family’s young lady. If he knew Qin Luo’s real purpose was to break off the engagement, he certainly wouldn’t be so warm, and something dangerous might well occur. The old man’s skills were, after all, unfathomable.

To Shui Bo, however, Qin Luo’s smile appeared bashful. He patted Qin Luo’s hand encouragingly. “A real man—what’s there to be shy about? Don’t worry, the Master will support you. He’s mentioned several times that it was about time you came.”

“Yes, I will,” Qin Luo responded perfunctorily.

Such matters were best handled in secret, in a private conversation with Master Wenren Ting. Otherwise, if word spread, it would harm the young lady’s reputation.

Following Shui Bo, they ascended the stone steps. The first landmark was the Sea God Pool, an oval swimming pool designed in the style of ancient Greek and Roman architecture. Its floor was paved with green marble; the temple of Poseidon stood at the front, flanked by a dozen milky-white Roman columns. Four vivid reliefs adorned the spaces between the pillars, and by the poolside stood a group of exquisite white marble statues. Judging by the craftsmanship and materials, it was clear they were the work of a master.

It was high noon. Beneath the blue sky and white clouds, the pool’s emerald waters rippled with light, dazzling in its opulence.

The entire villa was managed with strict order: every hedge was meticulously trimmed, every path spotless. Passing servants were unfailingly courteous, their smiles perfectly measured.

Like the villa’s façade itself—lavish but never ostentatious, splendid yet never vulgar.

For a moment, Qin Luo’s resolve wavered.

Was he truly about to give up a girl from such a family? To renounce such effortless wealth and honor?

The decision was indeed a painful one.

“Qin Luo, take a seat in the drawing room. The Master is in the back garden; I’ll announce you,” Shui Bo said, leading Qin Luo into a spacious and resplendent hall.

“All right,” Qin Luo agreed.

“Sit wherever you like. I’ll be right back.” Shui Bo seated him, his face beaming, and hurried off to the garden.

Soon, a servant brought tea and pastries. The pastries were colorful and enticing, but Qin Luo had no appetite. He could only cradle the jade-green tea, sipping it distractedly.

Propose a marriage? Or break it off? Or perhaps… should he just go along after all? This house could be his, and he’d never face the misery of a mortgage.

But what if the girl was terribly ugly? What if her face was pockmarked, her figure utterly flat?

As Qin Luo’s thoughts ran wild, a clear, youthful voice suddenly sounded beside him: “Who are you?”

Qin Luo looked up to see a man standing behind him.

A beautiful man.

For the first time, Qin Luo found himself using the word “beautiful” to describe another man.

His skin was smooth as cream, with a faint rosy glow. His features were perfectly sculpted, his jawline round yet graceful, delicate as lotus petals. Everything about him radiated classical elegance.

He stood poised and gorgeous, so striking that Qin Luo momentarily lost himself.

“Who are you?” The man raised an eyebrow, clearly displeased at being stared at so intently.

“Qin Luo,” said Qin Luo, thinking that comparison truly was the thief of joy.

He had always considered himself the elegant, handsome youth—the most attractive in the Qin family—yet, beside this man, he felt utterly ordinary.

“Qin Luo?” The beautiful youth pondered, then said, “Never heard of you. What do you want?”

“And you—who are you?” Qin Luo retorted. Though the man was well-dressed, his blunt questioning roused Qin Luo’s innate pride. The Qin family had practiced medicine for generations, serving princes and generals, warlords and tycoons—what had they ever to fear?

“Wenren Zhao,” the man replied arrogantly.

“Never heard of you. What do you want?” Qin Luo echoed his words back.

“Do you even know who you’re talking to?” The young man, less composed than Qin Luo, demanded in outrage.

“No. Naturally, I don’t,” Qin Luo replied. Yet, from the surname and his bold manner in this house, it was easy to guess: this must be the grandson of Master Wenren Ting.

Alas, best to break off this engagement. The fortune and the house weren’t his anyway—now there was even a rival with a ‘handle’ to contend with.

“Whatever you’re here for, I guarantee you’ll walk away empty-handed,” Wenren Zhao said darkly, unaccustomed to such humiliation.

“How dare you! Since when is it your place to speak here?” A vigorous, elderly voice rang out.

The old man was about Shui Bo’s age, but even more energetic—ruddy-cheeked, with white hair and childlike features. He wore a white silk Tang jacket embroidered with a Taiji pattern, moved swiftly without assistance, exuding decisiveness and authority.

“Grandfather.” Wenren Zhao immediately lost his arrogance, bowing respectfully.

“Hmph. No manners at all.” Wenren Ting glared at his grandson.

“Master Wenren, how do you do? I’m Qin Luo, grandson of Qin Zheng,” Qin Luo said, standing to greet him.

“We’ve been friends for many years. You may call me Grandfather too. Calling me ‘Master Wenren’ feels strange, doesn’t it?” The old man smiled kindly, looking Qin Luo up and down as if appraising a future grandson-in-law.

That look seemed oddly familiar to Qin Luo.

“Very well,” Qin Luo agreed.

“How is your grandfather’s health?” Wenren Ting gestured for everyone to sit.

“He’s well, thank you,” Qin Luo replied respectfully, all the while pondering how to broach his true purpose.

“Of course, silly question. Your grandfather is a master of longevity—he even taught me the Taiji set I practice daily. How could his health not be good?” Wenren Ting laughed heartily.

Others joined in, but Qin Luo’s smile was strained, burdened by unease.

Wenren Ting gazed at Qin Luo, reminiscing. “Qin Luo, our Wenren family owes your Qin family a great debt. Years ago, when the Wenren and Bai families were locked in a fierce commercial struggle, I fell seriously ill. If not for your grandfather pulling me back from death’s door, the Bai family would have devoured us whole.”

“At that time, Wenren Zhao’s father and your father had only just married; neither wife was yet pregnant. I told your grandfather: if the Wenren family had a daughter, she would marry a Qin; if a son, he would serve the Qin family as needed.”

Hearing Wenren Ting recite that old vow, Wenren Zhao’s handsome face went pale.

If a son, he would serve the Qin family as needed?

“I’ve been thinking lately, the time for this engagement is drawing near. Shouldn’t the Qin family send someone? Must we have the bride’s family propose? Even if we’re not sticklers for face, it goes against our customs.”

“At last, you’re here today. It’s just a pity Mu Yue isn’t home. Otherwise, you two could have met.”

Mu Yue? Wenren Mu Yue?

So this was his fiancée? The name sounded nice, but as everyone knows, the most poisonous things often appear most perfect on the surface. Like Luo Yufeng—her name was pleasant, but her face quite tragic.

Qin Luo couldn’t help picturing Sister Feng’s half-evolved face…

“Grandfather, what era are we in? Must we still cling to such outdated betrothals? With the person my sister is, how could she ever like him?” Wenren Zhao finally couldn’t hold back, protesting.

He wanted no part in tying his family to this shabby youth; he’d disliked Qin Luo from the first moment he laid eyes on him.

“Silence!” Wenren Ting snapped. “What do you know? The Wenren family’s reputation is based on integrity—when have we ever reneged on a promise? And who gave you leave to speak? Get out.”

“Grandfather, you can’t push Sister into the fire like this. Look at him—what about him could possibly match her? Any one of her suitors is a hundred, a thousand times better!” Wenren Zhao protested hotly, undeterred even by his grandfather’s authority. Clearly, the siblings were close.

Wait—so I’m the fire pit now? Qin Luo thought, bewildered.

“I know what I’m doing. Shui Bo, take him away.” Wenren Ting rapped the table.

“Yes, Master,” Shui Bo replied, leading Wenren Zhao out.

“Grandfather, you can’t sacrifice Sister’s happiness just to repay a debt. He’s totally unworthy—” Wenren Zhao’s protests echoed even as he was dragged away.

“I’ve spoiled him. Please don’t mind him, Qin Luo,” Wenren Ting apologized.

“It’s all right. They seem very close,” Qin Luo replied. “Grandfather, I’ve come—for another reason.”

“I know you must have something else to say,” Wenren Ting replied, smiling, encouraging him to continue.

“Well—it may not be what you expect,” Qin Luo said, bracing himself.

“Not what I expect? What is it?” Wenren Ting’s brows twitched, as if suspecting something.

“I haven’t come to propose,” Qin Luo said.

“Oh?” The old man’s smile slowly faded.

“I’ve come—to break off the engagement,” Qin Luo said with great difficulty, as if it took all the strength he had.