DBB – Chapter 74: Passing

When Gu Jinchao saw Gu Deshao emerge from the room, she rose to greet him.

His expression was calm. “You brought the guards to intercept Yuping at the covered gate last night?”

Jinchao bowed and answered, “I only wished to get to the bottom of things. If Concubine Song had a hand in this, I needed to be prepared. Yuping is currently in the east side room, safe and sound. Would Father like to see her?”

Gu Deshao waved it off and chided her lightly, “Enough. You are, after all, a young lady of the inner quarters. You mustn’t involve yourself in matters like this again.”

Jinchao responded with a quiet smile. Her father’s words had never carried much weight for her. Everything she did—how could Gu Deshao possibly understand?

She lowered herself in a curtsy and saw him out.

Just then, Xu Mama came walking through the covered corridor, carrying a bowl of black-bone chicken soup with codonopsis and goji berries. She approached Jinchao and said, “Young Miss, Madam hasn’t eaten much this afternoon. I’ve just finished stewing this soup. Why don’t you take it to her?”

Jinchao nodded, accepted the bowl from Xu Mama’s hands, and stepped into the west side room.

Ji Shi was leaning against the window panel, gazing out at the lush greenery. The golden crow was setting in the west, and the orange sunlight scattered across the lattice window. Her emaciated face rested against a large pillow embroidered in red and gold, making her waxen complexion appear all the more fragile.

Jinchao brought the porcelain bowl to her, took her mother’s hand with a smile, and asked gently, “Did you and Father talk things through? It’s enough just to speak openly. After all, there’s nothing that can’t be faced.”

Ji Shi smiled faintly, her eyes locked on her daughter’s face. The sunlight reflected a strange, bright gleam in her gaze.

She nodded, opened her mouth to speak—but not a sound came out. Her throat felt as though something had lodged in it.

Jinchao didn’t notice. She poured the soup into a smaller bowl and began to feed her spoonful by spoonful.

Ji Shi drank slowly, with a gentle smile on her lips. The soup was tasteless in her mouth, yet she did not pause—she drank until the bowl was empty. Only then did Jinchao relax a little. If her mother could still eat, perhaps things truly had been resolved. She didn’t seem upset anymore.

Just as Jinchao was about to stand, she realized her mother had gripped the hem of her skirt tightly. She laughed softly. “Do you want me to stay with you a little longer?”

Ji Shi shook her head. Her voice came at last, soft and drifting: “You didn’t sleep all night, and you’ve been with me all day. Go and rest for now.”

Jinchao was indeed exhausted. She had pushed through a full day and night without sleep. Her head throbbed like iron, and her mind was foggy. If not for the worry of her parents’ conversation, she would have collapsed long ago. She glanced again at her mother, who was still smiling faintly.

“Then I’ll go back for now,” she said gently. “I’ll come greet you in the morning.”

Ji Shi nodded and watched her daughter’s figure retreat toward the doorway.

If she steps out now… I’ll never see her again.

Panic suddenly surged in Ji Shi’s chest. She called out, “Chao’er.”

Jinchao turned back with a smile. “Did you need something else, Mother?”

Ji Shi wasn’t even sure why she had called her back. She simply studied her daughter’s face in full, then smiled again, softly. “Get some good rest. You’ll feel better after a nap.”

Jinchao nodded and stepped outside.

Ji Shi watched her daughter’s figure disappear, eyes wide open until they ached.

Xu Mama entered quietly and spoke in a testing tone, “Madam, you must be tired. Why don’t you rest early? As for Yuping and those two maids, I’ll handle it.”

She called Moyu in to assist with grooming and undressing. They helped her onto the bed.

Moyu tucked the quilt snugly around her. Ji Shi said nothing at first, but as Xu Mama returned to extinguish the lamp, she finally whispered, “When Rong-ge’er comes home… tell him… tell him to listen to his eldest sister…”

Xu Mama smiled and clasped her hand. “Oh Madam, there you go again, letting your thoughts run wild. The young master will be back in just a month. You can tell him yourself—it’ll mean more than anything I could say.”

Ji Shi shook her head slightly, voice faint and wandering:
“Chao’er has grown so capable… and yet I… I still make her bear so much. She’s done all of this alone, and I… I couldn’t even defend myself. It’s…”

Xu Mama grew uneasy. “Madam, what’s the matter? Did the Master say something?”

Ji Shi closed her eyes. “I’m tired. You may go.”

Xu Mama saw that her eyes remained shut and did not press further. She left a single lamp burning in the inner chamber and withdrew with Moyu.

Though night hadn’t fully fallen, Ji Shi opened her eyes again. She looked up at the ceiling, at the carved motifs of xi, lu, shou, and happiness etched into the wood above her. A quiet sigh escaped her lips.

Her throat began to itch again, and she was seized by a violent cough. Not wanting to alarm the others, she pressed the quilt tightly to her mouth and curled into herself, struggling to breathe. Once the fit passed, she began to laugh—quiet, bitter laughter.

She was laughing at herself.

Her mother had once opposed her marriage to Gu Deshao. It was the only time in her life she had gone against her family’s wishes—and she had insisted on marrying him.

And now, she would grow old and die in the depths of this inner courtyard, with nothing left to show for it.

And him? Where is he tonight?

Concubine Song… or perhaps Concubine Luo?

But in truth, Ji Shi no longer cared. A man having several wives and concubines was nothing she couldn’t endure.

What she couldn’t bear… was that their bond had eroded to this extent. That Gu Deshao had spent all these years believing she harmed Yun Xiang, and now suspected her of scheming against Concubine Song for favor.

It was over.

She had long since burned through the last of her strength. There was nothing left to fight for, nothing left to count.

She didn’t want to drag Jinchao into her suffering.
She didn’t want Jinrong to grow up trusting only in Gu Deshao and Song Miaohua.
And more than anything… she didn’t want to go on living, enduring his coldness and suspicion.

Ji Shi took one final, steady breath. She wiped the tears from her face, slowly reached toward the edge of the bed—

That night, a wind rose. By midnight, heavy rain fell.

It did not stop until just before dawn.

Gu Jinchao slept deeply, undisturbed by the sound of rain. She was only awoken when Qingpu came to her bedside.

When she opened her eyes, she was still groggy. Outside, the faint patter of rain lingered, and the room remained shrouded in darkness.

Jinchao didn’t wake for quite some time. Still half-asleep, she asked Qingpu groggily, “What time is it?”

But Qingpu was already on the verge of tears.
“Young Miss, please get up quickly. Something urgent’s happened—we’ll explain everything once you’re up.”

Outside, Caifu came in holding a pale bluish-green crane flower robe, while Baiyun carried a brass basin. Behind them stood Moyu, her face deathly pale.

Seeing Moyu, Jinchao was puzzled.
“Moyu is here too? Did Mother send for me?”

Moyu shook her head, her expression heavy.
“Young Miss, please… go to Xiexiao Courtyard right away. The Madam has… passed.”

The sky had just begun to lighten, but it was still dim and hazy.

Jinchao walked quickly toward Xiexiao Courtyard with her maids in tow. Her face was completely blank.

Under the eaves of the covered corridor, Xu Mama was waiting for her.

Her eyes were swollen and red. As soon as she spoke, her voice was thick with grief.
“Young Miss… you’re here.”

Jinchao looked at her and heard her own voice—chillingly calm:
“Xu Mama, where is my mother? Did she pass in the night?”

Xu Mama took a deep breath and answered softly,
“Please… come see for yourself.”

She turned and led the way into the inner chamber.

Jinchao followed—and froze in place when she saw her mother’s body.

There, at the head of the bed, Ji Shi’s corpse hung from the carved red lacquer bedpost, a sash knotted tightly around her neck. Her head drooped to one side, her body twisted, skin ghostly pale.

Her mother had not died from illness.
She had hanged herself.

She actually hanged herself like this…

Jinchao suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. Something was pressing on her chest—tight, suffocating—and her whole body began to tremble uncontrollably.

She opened her mouth to say something—but nothing came. Her hand reached out blindly, grabbing at Xu Mama’s sleeve.
“Xu Mama… Mother is gone… She’s really gone…” she murmured.

Xu Mama had never seen Gu Jinchao like this. Tears welled in her own eyes as she clasped Jinchao’s hand.
“Young Miss… the Madam, she…”

On the way there, Jinchao had still clung to the faint hope that this was all a terrible dream. That perhaps she had imagined Moyu’s words—imagined being told her mother had died.

But it was real. Her mother had left her.
Left Jinrong too.

She had truly reached her limit—and chosen to leave in this way.

At last, Jinchao could hold it in no longer. A wail burst from her lips.
She collapsed, clutching Xu Mama’s sleeve like a helpless child, sobbing so hard she could hardly catch her breath.

Why did Mother have to die like this?
She had done everything she could to help her live—she even sent for Master Xiao to treat her illness. Why hadn’t she waited?
Why had she, despite everything Jinchao did for her, still despaired so deeply that she took her own life?

Now who would braid her hair into fine golden coils?
Who would make her beautiful knotwork hairpieces?
Who would hold her close and call her “my Chao’er” with such love?

Who would still love her, no matter what she did?

Just yesterday, she had gripped Jinchao’s skirt and called her back to look at her once more. At the time, she must have already made up her mind…

She just wanted one last glance.

Why hadn’t I realized?
Why didn’t I hold her hand and stay with her the whole night?

Xu Mama tried to pull her up. Jinchao’s body had gone limp—like she’d lost whatever strength was keeping her upright.

Seeing her like this, Xu Mama couldn’t help sobbing.
“How could the Madam… how could she be so desperate as to do this? And now… what about you? What about the Young Master? Even if she had truly lost all hope in the Master… she still shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have left like this!”

Jinchao stared blankly at Xu Mama. Only after a long while did her eyes seem to register the words.

She gripped Xu Mama’s hand and asked, her voice barely audible,
“Xu Mama… did Mother say anything to you last night?”

Xu Mama was already choking on her tears.
“She said she couldn’t argue with the Master… I didn’t think much of it at the time. I thought maybe I’d misheard. But now… now I think something must’ve happened between them yesterday. The Master must’ve said something terrible to her…”

“You don’t know, Young Miss. The Master’s been distancing himself from her for years. He’s misunderstood her deeply. When the rhubarb incident happened—it was Concubine Song who tampered with the medicine, but the Master insisted Madam was stirring up trouble. Said she was always so dramatic, even dragging you into it. He’s always believed she was the one who harmed Yun Xiang. And now, with what Yuping said, he must’ve accused her outright.”

“After all that… the Madam must have felt there was no way left to live.”

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Juju’s Ramblings

This chapter broke me a little. What hurts the most is that Ji Shi truly believed that taking her own life was the only way out. Her death wasn’t just about illness or despair, but the quiet erosion of trust, love, and dignity over years of being misunderstood and unloved. About what happens when someone is unseen for too long.

If you ever feel this way, please remember: you matter. You are worthy of love and life.

Wishing you love — from others and from within.