Chapter 131

"Yes, it’s true. She’s not dead—she’s still alive," Arthur said, his gaze dimming as sorrow welled up within his eyes once more.

Indeed, she was alive, but she had not been living well.

“That’s good... that’s good... that’s good...” Xiahou Yu did not respond with resentment over Arthur’s concealment. Instead, he quietly muttered to himself, his tone filled with pure joy, as if the heavy burden in his heart had finally been lifted, freeing him from self-inflicted torment.

Hearing this, Arthur felt a sharp pang in his chest. He had always known that ever since he believed Yingyue was dead, Xiahou Yu’s life had been shrouded in darkness, imprisoned by his own despair, unwilling to set himself free. It was deliberate—he had deliberately tortured himself to forever remember the girl he once cradled in his hands, a girl who had fallen into eternal slumber in another world because of his momentary lapse, never to be found again.

Yet, upon learning that Yingyue was alive, he had not told Xiahou Yu immediately, allowing pain to consume him. At this moment, Arthur truly wished Xiahou Yu would scold him harshly or that he could be by his side to vent their sorrow together, rather than enduring in silence.

But Xiahou Yu said nothing of blame—he only whispered softly, “That’s good.”

Arthur’s eyes, already stinging, turned red. His lips trembled involuntarily before he finally spoke, “Yu, I’m sorry.”

Though there were a thousand words unsaid, they all distilled into those simple three: I’m sorry.

After a long pause, Xiahou Yu’s voice came again, “Arthur, I’m very happy.” Within his words was a subtle smile of relief, unignorable in its lightness.

Arthur’s heart jolted, then slowly, a smile of release blossomed on his lips.

“Yes, I’m happy too.”

Happy—not to have lost the woman he loved most in life, nor the most precious friend he ever had.

Hearing this, Xiahou Yu’s lips curved into a bright smile, like a ray of sunshine piercing through dark clouds to illuminate the earth. His once haggard face instantly brightened, suffused with radiance.

“Yu, come to England,” Arthur said softly.

Xiahou Yu’s jet-black eyes flickered. “Yes.”

After hanging up, Arthur turned to look out the window where the sun shone brightly and couldn’t help but smile. How wonderful.

Xiahou Yu laid back on his modest single bed, arms resting on his forehead, motionless.

Sunlight streamed through the wooden window, bathing Xiahou Yu’s still slender yet spirited face in its glow. A single sparkling tear slipped down between his arms, tracing the contours of his face before disappearing into the fibers of his T-shirt.

***

Westfield Castle

Avril returned to her room, not summoning servants but instead making her own way to the bathroom. She turned on the faucet above the bathtub, letting water slowly fill it. Then she went to the small bar in the corner of her room, fetched a bottle of red wine and a tall glass, and carried them back to the bathroom, placing them on a small marble table beside the tub.

Next, she turned to a crystal cabinet, took out a small basket of flowers, elegantly draped one arm over it, and with her other hand scattered crimson rose petals into the water. After adjusting the temperature, she shed her clothes one by one and stepped gracefully into the tub.

In an instant, the bathtub was filled with drifting red petals that clung to her porcelain skin like red plum blossoms blooming seductively amid the snow.

A sultry smile played on Avril’s lips. Casually, she scooped up a handful of petals and let them cascade over her delicate form.

The bathroom soon brimmed with the rich fragrance of roses, intoxicating amidst the hazy mist.

Avril picked up the wine glass and poured herself a drink. Swirling the alluring red liquid, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The rich aroma invaded her nostrils, stirring her senses.

Taking a light sip, she then reached for a photo frame on the nearby table. Her ocean-blue eyes gazed dreamily at the person in the picture, a deep obsession evident in her look.

The wine flushed her lips a vivid red, and she parted them slightly. A seductive voice drifted through the misty room.

“How could you be so cruel and heartless to me?” Her tone was laced with sorrow. “You knew all along how much I liked you, how I had always loved you. How could you abandon me like this—vanishing without a trace for so many years, even changing your name to keep me from finding you?”

Avril took another sip, her blue eyes flashing with a hidden light. “Tell me—why don’t you love me? What about me is unworthy of your love? Tell me!”

Her gaze grew wild, bordering on madness. “I have waited for you here all these years, while you lived carefree on the other side, even daring to love another woman! Was I too indulgent, allowing you to disregard my feelings so recklessly?!”

“But, ha ha, no matter how far you run, you will come back. Back to me. You can’t escape! Haha...” Avril suddenly laughed, throwing back the remaining wine in her glass.

“Tell me—why don’t you love me? Tell me!” Her laughter gave way to desperate sobs, her complexion changing dramatically. “Tell me, what is it about me that displeases you? That makes you treat me like this?” Crystal tears traced down her flawless profile, mingling with the petals before her. “Please, I beg you—love me, love me, won’t you?”

Her tears moved with heartbreaking grace. Then, with pouted lips, she kissed the thin lips in the photo, leaving her mark before clutching it to her chest, whispering, “George, I love you.”

Suddenly, the sound of applause echoed through the quiet bathroom.

Avril’s lowered head snapped up sharply as she glared toward the doorway, her expression fierce. “Who’s there?”

A mocking male voice came from outside the bathroom. “Ha ha ha, so the noble, perfect Miss Avril has this side to her after all.”

“Who’s there?” Avril’s tone grew colder, even sinister—an expression foreign to her usually flawless face.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” the voice replied. “What matters is, I have a business proposal for you, Miss Avril.”

“Business?” Avril scoffed lightly.

“Yes, a business that benefits both of us.”

“Hmph. A coward who doesn’t even dare show his face dares to propose a deal to me?” Avril’s disdain was blatant as she poured herself another glass and sipped leisurely.

“Miss Avril, business can be conducted without face-to-face meetings,” the man said seriously, abandoning his teasing tone.

Avril ignored him, savoring her wine in silence.

The quiet stretched in the misty bathroom. The man, seeing Avril’s silence and lack of response, seemed to contemplate revealing himself.

When Avril reached her second glass, faint footsteps finally sounded, and the man, unable to contain himself, emerged.

“Alright, Miss Avril, we’ll talk face to face,” he conceded reluctantly.

Avril glanced briefly toward the door, frowning slightly but showing no surprise. “So it’s you.”

The man blinked, a bit embarrassed. “Aren’t you even a little curious, Miss Avril?”

“Hmph, you don’t deserve my curiosity,” she replied, her contempt clear on her face.

The man clenched his fists at his sides, struggling to endure her mockery. His eyes drifted to the photo frame in Avril’s arms. Suddenly unclenching, he casually strolled over and leaned against a cabinet, smirking. “Yes, just little old me—not worth your curiosity. Only the one in your arms could capture your interest.”

Avril spun around sharply, eyes like daggers aimed at the relaxed man. “Are you threatening me?”

“Ha ha, how could I?” he shrugged innocently.

Her gaze was like a venomous scorpion’s, fixed on him until he shifted uncomfortably, his back damp with sweat. Only then did Avril relax, leaning casually against the tub, eyes half-closed, speaking casually, “Speak then. What’s on your mind?”

The man smiled faintly on his pale face. “You must know, although Miss Eva and I met under unusual circumstances, I’ve come to care for her deeply.” He watched Avril’s expression carefully as he spoke.

A soft sneer reached his ears, and his face darkened. But biting his lip, he smiled again. “So, I don’t want Miss Eva in another man’s arms.” Pausing to gauge Avril’s reaction, he continued, “Since you, Miss Avril, also don’t want this marriage to succeed, why don’t we join forces? That way, we both get what we want.”

“Do you think you can?” Avril’s contempt was palpable; she didn’t even bother to spare him a glance.

The man froze awkwardly, unsure of how to respond.

Avril remained silent. After a moment’s hesitation, the man grew anxious. “Miss Avril—”

“Tell me your plan,” she interrupted. Just as he wondered if she had fallen asleep, she spoke.

His face brightened as he stepped closer, leaning in to whisper his entire scheme into her ear. When he finished, he watched her nervously.

Avril pondered for a moment, then smiled seductively. Batting her lashes, she somehow produced a wine glass, poured some red wine, and offered it to him.

With a crisp clink, their glasses met.

“Deal!”