Oops! The Black Lotus Can’t Be a Female Supporting Character

CHAPTER 45

“Brother, is there anything else?”

“If not, I’m going to take a nap… Here, take this bag of sweet zongzi candy. It smells wonderful, and it tastes even better.”

With just a few coaxing words, Xiao Yanfei managed to dismiss Xiao Shuo like a child, handing him a small bag of candy.

Xiao Shuo wandered out of Moonrise Pavilion in a daze, clutching the zongzi candy in one hand—and the broken bamboo bow she had shoved back into his arms before he left.

At some point, the skies had darkened. Heavy clouds now covered the sun, casting everything in a dull gray.

Xiao Shuo walked forward slowly, hoping to clear his mind in the front courtyard.

The wind was picking up, carrying a chill that hinted at an oncoming storm.

“Second Young Master! Second Young Master!”

Shi momo came waddling over, panting, and intercepted him halfway down the path. “What a coincidence—Madam is just over there!”

Xiao Shuo stopped in his tracks, body going rigid.

Following her finger, he looked into the distance and saw a delicate figure seated quietly in the Willow Pavilion by the pond. Even sitting still, her posture radiated a gentle, graceful elegance.

This pavilion sat along the path between Moonrise Pavilion and the front courtyard—Madam Cui had clearly been waiting here on purpose.

Xiao Shuo began to walk toward her, each step steady and precise, as though measured by a ruler. He didn’t rush, yet every step felt deliberate.

His second sister had told him: Look with your eyes. Think with your mind.

His eyes darkened, a faint, cold gleam flickering beneath his lashes. With a graceful flick of his robes, he stepped into the pavilion.

“Mother,” he said before she could speak, “I just visited Second Sister.”

Madam Cui froze, tightening her grip on the handkerchief in her hand.

The light inside was dim, clouded by the gloom outside. A maid rushed to light the oil lamps.

“How is your second sister doing?” she asked gently, gesturing for him to sit beside her.

“The wound on her face is… severe,” Xiao Shuo replied, eyes lowered as he took a seat.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Madam Cui’s lips twitch upward, ever so slightly. She quickly composed herself, the fleeting smile vanishing almost immediately.

“Your second sister has such a hard fate…” she sighed, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief, her lashes trembling. “Ah, Shuo’er, she’s been in low spirits lately because of the injury. The physician says she needs to rest quietly to recover.”

Rest quietly?

Xiao Shuo heard the hidden meaning—she was subtly telling him not to disturb her again.

Even if Father had been the one to tamper with the bowstring, it had been Madam Cui’s few casual words that had nudged him into doing it. That was how things had spiraled out of control.

Xiao Shuo smiled faintly—light and casual, yet his eyes held a chilling clarity, as though he had glimpsed a monster long buried within her heart.

Boom!

A thunderclap rolled across the sky, making the room seem even darker.

“Mother,” he changed the subject with studied indifference, “Mother Consort is returning soon. I’d like to request a day off from my tutor to accompany First Sister and Second Sister to the docks.”

As he spoke, he placed the broken bow on the table in front of him. The snapped string dangled loosely from one end.

“The Madam is coming back?” Madam Cui blurted out. Her shocked gaze landed on the bow, and her pupils shrank.

She gripped her handkerchief tighter, her unease almost palpable. “Shuo’er, why do you have that broken bow?”

“I saw it in Second Sister’s room and thought I’d get it repaired for her,” Xiao Shuo answered lightly.

Madam Cui’s eyes flickered. After a long pause, she said, “That bow… seems unlucky. Why not just throw it away and have a new one made for your sister?”

Xiao Shuo said nothing.

He had never mentioned that this was the very bow that had injured his sister—yet she clearly already knew.

A damp wind swept in through the doorway. The flame in the oil lamp flickered wildly, casting shadows that danced across Madam Cui’s graceful figure. Her silhouette stretched long and twisted across the floor—like a beast crouching in the dark.

Xiao Shuo lowered his gaze to the warped shadow, then slowly lifted his head again.

“Alright,” he replied simply.

He stood and gave her a courteous bow. “Mother, I still have studies to attend to. I’ll return to Zhuiyun Courtyard. The weather looks like rain—please, head back soon as well.”

“Good child. Your studies are important—go on,” Madam Cui said gently, her voice as soft as ever.

Xiao Shuo gave her a graceful smile, nodded, and turned to leave the Willow Pavilion. His steps were calm and unhurried, exuding a quiet, steadfast grace—like sunlight shimmering on still water.

Watching the boy’s slim figure retreat into the distance, Madam Cui suddenly asked in a low voice, “Shi momo… is Shuo’er becoming distant from me?”

There was a trace of panic and helplessness in her voice. Her eyes remained fixed on his back, unwilling to look away.

“Of course not!” Shi momo quickly comforted her. “Madam, I think Second Young Master is just concerned about Second Miss’s injury, that’s all.”

After a pause, she added tactfully, “They are siblings, after all…”

Madam Cui pressed her lips together, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted—something she hadn’t yet grasped.

After a long moment, she finally gave a slow, reluctant nod.

She turned and looked through an open window toward the south, where the skies were thick with heavy clouds.

Once this was over, she thought, she could finally breathe easy.

A soft smile played at the corners of her lips, and her almond-shaped eyes gleamed with an eerie light as she murmured to herself, “This is the first time I’ve actually looked forward to the Madam’s return to the manor.”

“In the past…”

Her voice trailed off into silence as her thoughts drifted back—far back—to many years ago.

That year, Madam Yin had entered the marquis’ household in a grand procession, with a bridal entourage stretching for miles. From that moment on, she had become a thorn in Madam Cui’s heart—a thorn that had never been removed and that, from time to time, seemed to drive itself in even deeper.

It was Madam Yin who had taken everything that should have belonged to her—her man, her status, her title.

Because of her, Madam Cui was forever relegated to second place. No matter how many years passed, she could only ever be a concubine—someone who would never be truly seen.

A dull ache stirred in her chest, and her voice turned cold as ice. “What a pity… Such a beautiful face, wasted just like that.”

“Well, she has no one to blame but herself.”

“If she’d just listened to me and gone along with Eunuch Gao, this would never have happened.”

Boom!

A clap of thunder crashed outside, drowning out her last words.

The rain fell for two or three days. Though it paused here and there, it always returned—drizzling on and on without end.

The entire household settled into a strange, heavy silence. Everyone went about their duties as usual, but there was an unspoken tension in the air.

It wasn’t until the night before Madam Yin’s return that the rain finally stopped.

The journey from the capital to the docks was several dozen li, so before dawn even broke, Xiao Luanfei arrived at Moonrise Pavilion.

Xiao Yanfei let her wait outside.

Inside, she calmly instructed Dingxiang and Zhiqiu to help her dress and do her hair, then placed that oversized, cumbersome veiled hat on her head once again.

The pale green veil draped down from the brim, concealing her face once more.

With the heavy hat perched on her head, Xiao Yanfei drifted out like a wandering soul. It was far too early, and she couldn’t help letting out a small yawn behind the gauzy veil.

“Second Sister! I’ve already had the carriage prepared!” Xiao Luanfei greeted her warmly, looping her arm through Yanfei’s as she beamed with joy. “Did you have breakfast yet?”

“I had the kitchen prepare some snacks early this morning—we can eat them on the way.”

Even though Xiao Yanfei barely responded, Xiao Luanfei didn’t seem to mind at all. She happily kept chatting, arm-in-arm with Yanfei, as they made their way toward Ronghe Hall.

After reporting their itinerary and receiving the Old Madam’s less-than-enthusiastic “Go and come back quickly,” the two sisters stepped out of the inner courtyard through the ceremonial gate. From a distance, they saw Xiao Shuo already waiting by the carriage.

There was no time for lengthy conversation. With a brief exchange, the two carriages departed from the east corner gate of the Marquis’s estate, heading eastward.

It was still early. The streets of the capital were quiet, and the morning air, washed clean by the rain, carried the fresh scent of spring grass—it was crisp, invigorating.

They traveled without pause, pressing forward until they arrived at the docks in the early afternoon.

The dock was bustling with activity—not just with merchant vessels coming and going, but also with many like the Xiao family, there to receive relatives. The entire place teemed with noise and motion.

“The boat’s here!”

Zhao momo suddenly cried out in excitement, pointing to a large three-masted vessel in the distance. “It’s the Yin family’s boat!”

On the wide river, a sleek new sandboat approached with its three woven bamboo sails fully unfurled. A banner bearing the character Yin flapped proudly in the wind.

All eyes followed the ship as it slowly drew near and docked.

The Xiao family moved to the floating bridge to greet their guests. The bridge, formed by boats strung together, rocked faintly underfoot. The recent rains had left the wooden planks damp and slightly slippery.

“There’s Mother!” Xiao Luanfei stood on tiptoe, peering eagerly toward the grand ship.

Madam Yin emerged from the cabin and made her way to the deck, her steps steady but cautious. With the help of a maidservant, she carefully descended the long, swaying plank that connected ship to shore.

“Mother, you’ve lost weight!” Xiao Luanfei hurried forward, affectionately taking her mother’s arm and looking her up and down. “You must be exhausted from the trip. How is Grandfather’s health?”

Madam Yin wore a pale green patterned robe and had simply pinned her hair into a modest coil, secured by a jade hairpin. Though her appearance was elegant, the faint shadows beneath her eyes betrayed her fatigue—she hadn’t rested well these past few days.

Still, her expression was calm. She patted her daughter’s hand. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Xiao Yanfei was about to step forward with Xiao Shuo when she suddenly froze, her gaze drifting past Madam Yin—toward the ship.

A tall figure in crimson emerged from the cabin.

Beneath the bright afternoon sun, the young man’s scarlet robe shimmered like blood. The river wind swept the fabric into motion, lending him an air of wild elegance.

He wore a black half-mask that accentuated the pale fairness of his face.

From the high deck, he looked down with slightly narrowed, fox-like eyes—a gaze that carried an innate arrogance and confidence, as though the world itself lay beneath his feet.

Gu Feichi?!

Why is he here?

Xiao Yanfei’s eyes widened in disbelief. Her lips parted slightly beneath the pale green veil of her hat, her expression hidden but unmistakably stunned.

She stared at Gu Feichi in a daze, almost tempted to pinch herself.

And then, a flicker of understanding dawned in her eyes.

Beneath the mask, Gu Feichi’s pale lips curled into a faint smile. He stepped off the ship with relaxed ease, his every movement brimming with strength and control.

“This trip would’ve been much more difficult if not for the Angong Niuhuang pills that Young Lord Gu personally brought,” Madam Yin said, turning to Gu Feichi with gratitude. “After taking three, your grandfather finally regained consciousness. He’s still weak, but his mind is clear now, and he can even speak a little.”

“What?!” Xiao Luanfei’s eyes widened in shock. The hand holding onto Madam Yin stiffened. She stared at Gu Feichi, frozen. Gu Feichi saved Grandfather? Grandfather’s not dead?!

Madam Yin didn’t notice her daughter’s reaction. Her gaze shifted to Xiao Yanfei and Xiao Shuo, puzzled by the sight of her younger daughter wearing a veiled hat.

In this dynasty, customs were far more relaxed—unlike the previous era, where women rarely stepped outside without a veil. Nowadays, young ladies walked the streets freely. It was curious to see Yanfei veiled like this.

“Second Miss Xiao.” Gu Feichi walked up to Xiao Yanfei and offered her a nod. His cool, clear voice carried a subtle trace of amusement, the tail end of his words curling with a languid, teasing tone.

From start to finish, his eyes never left her—as though Xiao Luanfei and Xiao Shuo didn’t even exist.

“Thank you, Young Master Gu,” Xiao Yanfei replied, her voice calm and proper as she offered him a respectful bow. But beneath that formal tone, a quiet, inexplicable warmth spread through her chest.

Every word she spoke carried a trace of a smile—and an unspoken understanding.

She had asked Gu Feichi to deliver the medicine. She never expected him to deliver it himself.

Before today, she had planned to scold him when they next met—planned to complain about the trouble Zhu momo had caused her. But now, all that frustration had been smoothed away by his presence, like a cat whose fur had been gently stroked the right way.

Her heart felt soft and settled.

A smile bloomed on her lips, dimpling her cheeks.

The veil fluttered lightly in the breeze, as if echoing her joy with its own ripples of laughter.

Even though the wide-brimmed hat shielded her face, Gu Feichi seemed to sense her delight. Behind his mask, the line of his brow arched ever so slightly.

His look seemed to say: I’ll find you later.

Madam Yin watched this pair standing side by side and felt a wave of relief. Her smile deepened.

She had always felt uneasy about this imperial marriage decree. It hadn’t come from goodwill, but from the emperor and empress’s malice. She worried her obedient daughter would be taken advantage of—feared the powerful Duke’s household would look down on her.

In the eyes of such a powerful family, Xiao Yanfei was like an ant—easily crushed.

But Gu Feichi had shown her his sincerity.

He, the heir of the Duke of Wei, had personally delivered medicine, a wheelchair, and a physician. Now, he’d even come in person to escort them back to the capital.

This was, without a doubt, a gesture of sincerity.

A sincerity that showed he truly intended to marry their family’s daughter.

Xiao Luanfei, who had been thrown into disarray just moments ago, finally collected herself. She glanced around at the others, a strange feeling blooming in her chest. For some reason, she felt… out of place—like she didn’t quite belong in the atmosphere forming around her.

She quickly steered the conversation back, asking, “Mother, where are Grandfather and Grandmother?”

“It’s been years since I last saw them.”

She looked up toward the sandboat again, her eyes full of genuine affection and longing.

“They’re still on board,” Madam Yin replied, gesturing toward the cabin. “Your grandfather can’t move easily now and needs a wheelchair. I came off first to arrange the carriages.”

Then she turned to Xiao Yanfei with a gentle smile. “Yanfei, why are you wearing a veiled hat? Are you—”

As she spoke, she reached out to lift the gauzy veil—but her hand was subtly intercepted by Xiao Luanfei.

“Mother, let’s go up to the boat first,” Luanfei cut in, her voice soft and coaxing as she gently shook Madam Yin’s hand. “I’ve missed Grandfather and Grandmother so much. I haven’t been able to sleep these past few nights, just worrying…”

She bit her plump lower lip, playing up her concern, looking sincerely distressed.

Xiao Yanfei said nothing and let it all unfold, smiling behind the veil as she watched Luanfei with quiet amusement.

Seeing her sister remain silent, Luanfei’s lips curved upward in satisfaction. She simply assumed Yanfei didn’t want Gu Feichi to see the injuries on her face.

Before long, Zhao momo approached with a bright smile. “Madam, the carriages are ready.”

“Let’s board then,” Madam Yin said, gesturing for everyone to head onto the ship.

From afar, the three-masted sandboat had already looked imposing—but standing on its deck, one could truly feel its grandeur.

The Yin family’s attendants lined the deck and bowed as they passed. Soon, the sound of wheels turning echoed from the direction of the cabin—a deep, heavy sound.

Accompanied by a man’s anxious voice: “Father, are you feeling all right?”

A sturdy wheelchair emerged slowly, pushed by a richly dressed middle-aged man with cautious hands. The heavy wheels groaned faintly against the wooden deck.

Seated in the chair was an elderly man, clearly past sixty. His face was pale, his hair a mix of black and white tied neatly beneath a net cap. Deep wrinkle marked his brow and the corners of his eyes, and his cheeks were thin and sunken.

His head leaned to one side, his body frail—but in contrast, his cloudy eyes were sharp and shrewd, still gleaming with intelligence.

Standing beside him was a kindly old woman dressed in dark robes. She appeared to be in her sixties as well. Her sloping phoenix eyes had drooped with age, but one could see a clear resemblance between her and Madam Yin.

Xiao Luanfei quickly stepped forward and gave a graceful curtsey to the old man in the wheelchair and the elderly woman beside him. “Grandfather, Grandmother.”

“Is that Luan’er?” Madam Yin’s mother beamed at the sight of her.

Old Master Yin’s eyes lit up as well. Though his voice was faint and broken, he managed to murmur, “Luan…’er…”

Madam Yin’s mother studied her granddaughter carefully. “You’ve grown, my child. You’ve grown so much. Last time I saw you, you were no more than four or five. And now—you’ve come of age. A proper young lady.”

Her eyes lingered on Luanfei, and gradually, tears welled up, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Grandmother, you haven’t changed a bit,” Luanfei replied sweetly, then lowered her gaze to the old man in the wheelchair. “But Grandfather… he looks thinner.”

Behind her, Xiao Yanfei was silently observing Old Master Yin. His complexion was still pale, but his ability to recognize people and respond proved that his mind remained clear. Overall, he appeared to be out of danger.

The Angong Niuhuang pills really are miraculous for treating strokes…

Madam Yin’s mother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, then turned her gaze to the veiled figure standing beside Madam Yin.

“And this is…?”

“Mother, this is Luan’er’s younger sister, Yanfei,” Madam Yin quickly explained, then pointed to the boy. “And this is Shuo.”

Madam Yin’s mother looked back and forth between the two siblings, and with a single glance at their ages, her expression subtly changed.

These two must be the children of that Concubine Cui…

The Marquis of Wu’an, Xiao Yan, had several concubines and numerous illegitimate daughters. But of them all, Madam Yin’s mother had always disliked Cui the most—pretentious, calculating, and spoiled by favor.

Although she felt a little uncomfortable, she did not take it out on the children. Her expression remained calm as she nodded slightly and said, “Good children.”

As elders meeting their younger kin for the first time, it was customary to present them with a small gift. She handed each of them a jade pendant.

Xiao Luanfei clutched her handkerchief, then turned toward Yanfei with a bright, delicate smile.

“Second Sister, we’re already on the boat now. Why are you still wearing that veil?”

“Come now, take it off.”

She stared at Yanfei, who stood just three steps away, her smile warm but her eyes sharp—burning.

A voice echoed in her heart, fierce and insistent: Take it off. Let them see your face. Let them all see what you’ve become.

She wanted to break Xiao Yanfei completely—to snap her spine so she could never stand tall again. She wanted to grind her into the dirt, make sure she would live the rest of her life as nothing more than a lowly concubine’s daughter.

“Second Sister.” Xiao Luanfei urged again, her voice laced with anticipation. Her heart was pounding.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Standing beside Xiao Yanfei, Xiao Shuo frowned and cast a sharp look at Luanfei.

Eldest Sister clearly knew Second Sister’s face was injured—so why…

Looking closer, Xiao Shuo’s gaze narrowed. He caught the flush rising in Luanfei’s cheeks, and—hidden in her eyes—a flicker of something dangerous. A gleam of manic excitement she was trying to suppress.

Without thinking, he stepped forward, just enough to stand between the two sisters—perfectly measured, unobtrusive, but unmistakably protective.

The young man stood tall, straight as a pine, silent but firm—his posture that of a silent guardian.

“It’s fine,” Xiao Yanfei said softly, shaking her head. The delicate veil hanging from her hat swayed gently with the motion.

Then, she raised her hand and grasped the brim of her veiled hat.

Slowly, deliberately, she removed it.

Xiao Luanfei’s breath hitched. She involuntarily widened her eyes, pulse racing, locked onto Yanfei’s every move, terrified to miss even the smallest detail.

Her entire body was tense, wound tight like a bowstring. Joy—dark, uncontrollable joy—overflowed from her eyes, wild and unchecked.

The sheer blue gauze lifted into the air like a petal on the wind… then drifted back down.

The hat came off completely.

Luanfei stared, eyes fixed on Yanfei’s face.

In that instant, her pupils dilated to their limits.

The girl before her had a delicate, heart-shaped face, flawless and porcelain-smooth. Her dewy eyes sparkled in the sunlight—clear, bright, breathtakingly beautiful.

Where’s the ruined face?!

Xiao Luanfei stood frozen in place, dumbstruck.

“Is that…”

Old Master Yin and Madam Yin were staring as well, both visibly shaken—as if struck by lightning.

They couldn’t tear their eyes away from Xiao Yanfei’s face.

***