Chapter 68: C68. Unwavering Dedication: A Life for Yunzhu.

Marriage to the Royal Prince's Uncle [Completed]Words: 18019

Chapter 68

Yunzhu couldn’t quite pin down what Cao Xun wanted from her—what he really, truly desired. He was an enigma. One moment, he’d level her with a cold, icy warning not to play games with the young emperor; the next, he’d turn and lace her days with sweetness and flattery, making her wonder if he cared more than he let on.

He admired her beauty openly, no pretense there, and his kindness wrapped around her like silk. Yet, beneath it all, his devotion felt wafer-thin—crumbling when it mattered most. He would turn away effortlessly, as though she weren’t worth the risk, leaving her to wonder how much he actually cared.

And if anyone dared to suggest that Cao Xun truly loved her? Yunzhu would laugh—sharp, biting, and loud.

The truth was simpler, colder. Cao Xun was just holding true to his word—those pre-marriage vows delivered with a cool, unwavering authority:

“I’ll honor you, but you’ll set the tone, Yunzhu,” he’d said, voice low and deliberate. “Don’t mistake me for some besotted boy swayed by your looks. Cross me, and I’ll turn my back without hesitation. Show honor, and we’ll share a lifetime. But betray me—fall for another man—and I’ll divorce you.”

It wasn’t love. It was control wrapped in conditions. He indulged her quirks, let her dance on the edge of his patience, but never let her forget where the line was drawn. And Yunzhu knew—if she stepped over, Cao Xun wouldn’t blink. He was not the fool many men became in the face of beauty.

That day, though, as Cao Xun watched her chat with Cao Shao, he caught a flicker in her gaze—a fleeting spark of interest. And that smug, knowing smile of his spread like slow, dripping honey. He invited Cao Shao to dinner, casual as ever, his words barbed with unspoken warning.

“Power is a flame, Yunzhu,” he reminded her later, his voice laced with both taunt and menace. “Those who chase its warmth are too often left burned.”

Yunzhu stiffened. He suspected her. The man was sharp—taunting and testing her at every turn, though he held no proof. Divorce was the word he dangled in the air, like a knife poised at her throat, threatening but never striking unless he knew.

And the mere idea of it—divorce—sent chills rippling down her spine. Another public humiliation, another mark on her reputation? No. She couldn’t bear that kind of shame—not again. Her family didn’t deserve that disgrace either. If Cao Xun ever cast her aside, she’d prefer to disappear quietly, with whatever dignity she could scrape together.

So when Cao Xun extended a hand—apologies falling from his lips, reconciliation offered—Yunzhu leaned into it. She had no choice but to accept.

Later, as he leaned in to kiss her, soft and slow, Yunzhu hesitated. Then, playfully, she nipped at his lips, sharp enough to sting but careful not to break skin. If there’d been a mark, it would’ve embarrassed them both.

He tensed, muscles coiled like a predator ready to pounce, but he didn’t pull back.

Satisfied, she moved her mouth to his shoulder and bit down harder—hard enough to leave her mark, her silent rebellion. No one would see it, after all. That secret was hers. And Cao Xun let her—let her teeth dig into his skin, saying nothing as her intent sank in.

When he finally tilted his head back down, Yunzhu looked away, feigning defiance. But he wouldn’t let her go—not that easily. His hands found her face, turning it back to meet his gaze, his voice a whisper against her skin.

“I was wrong,” he murmured, soft but resolute. “I won’t speak to you like that again.”

Yunzhu’s laugh cut through his words—low, challenging, dripping with fire. “Don’t placate me. I’m the frivolous one, remember? If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have dared to seduce you. Say whatever you want, Cao Xun. If you decide to divorce me for it one day, I’ll accept it.”

His brow furrowed, the words clearly striking deeper than she’d expected. “What nonsense are you talking about? That day will never come.”

She sneered—sharp and biting. “Who’s to say? You’re Cao Xun—uncle to the emperor, a man of prestige and power. Crushing a mere minister or his unruly wife? It’s child’s play for someone like you.”

For once, his gaze softened, his tone grave and certain. “Yunzhu, if I ever ended this marriage, I wouldn’t live to see a peaceful end.”

His words knocked the wind from her lungs. She froze.

Was this another warning?

A clever twist in his game?

Or had he let something slip—something real?

If it was an act, it was masterful.

If it wasn’t…

Yunzhu found herself caught in his snare again, unsure whether to believe the man who kissed her lips one moment and wielded threats the next.

Cao Xun grinned and took her hand, his smile tinged with a helplessness that was oddly charming. "Yunzhu," he said, his voice dropping a bit lower, "I want to grow old with you, if I can."

It’s common for lovers to vow that, right? To age together, to face life's twists and turns hand-in-hand. But Cao Xun added the "if" because, despite the years between them, he knew the truth—he was much older and the odds of him living to see her hair turn gray were slim. He’d likely leave her behind before she even reached old age.

Yunzhu caught the weight of that. She lowered her eyes, a flicker of emotion playing across her features. "You don’t need to say that," she said, her tone playful yet a little sharp. "I’ve had people curse me and berate me my whole life. From childhood, they’ve looked at me with envy and spat their insults, but I’ve never cared. But you—someone who usually keeps it all together—scolded me."

Her eyes didn’t tear up, but they glistened with the subtle sting of feeling misunderstood.

Cao Xun tried to smooth things over, his voice firm but gentle. "I didn’t scold you, Yunzhu. I understand who you are. You’ve got too much pride for something so trivial. What happened with Second Brother... it ended before it could even start. And now, you’re looking for someone better than him. And you found me. Every time we’re together, it’s like you’re testing me. If you hadn’t been betrothed to him, there’s no way you'd look at someone my age."

She absorbed his words, fully aware of the truth behind them.

But Yunzhu wasn’t naive. She smiled a little, a teasing glint in her eye. "True, even though you’re older, you’re still better than those younger men. If I hadn’t been betrothed, maybe I would’ve fallen for you anyway... but I wouldn’t have played these games to get to you."

Cao Xun chuckled, a rich sound that warmed the room, before tapping the tip of her nose. "No need to flatter me, sweetheart. Just promise you won’t hold this against me again."

Yunzhu raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Who said I’m resentful? You were the one pushing me to be composed, and now you're complaining because I’m not holding back."

"You're made to lead, Yunzhu," he said with a soft laugh. "If you ever try to change that, you won’t be you anymore."

She shot him a sly look, a playful challenge in her gaze. "I fear one day you might get sick of my ways and scold me again. You’ve got a tongue, and everything you say sounds so convincing."

Cao Xun raised an eyebrow, his tone amused but serious. "No need to worry. If you doubt me, I’ll put it in writing."

Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Then do it. Write it now."

Cao Xun took a piece of parchment and began writing, his hand steady as he composed the formal vow. When he finished, he handed it to her.

Yunzhu read the words aloud, her voice teasing but sincere: "I promise to cherish my wife Yunzhu until the end of my days." It was signed by the esteemed Royal Uncle himself.

Her heart warmed at the sight, but she knew it was just a little game between them, a way to tease and reassure her at the same time.

She couldn’t help but smile, a proud, satisfied smile that crept onto her lips even though she tried to hide it.

Seeing that smile, Cao Xun couldn't resist. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a lingering heat, soft and insistent.

Yunzhu playfully swatted him away, but when he released her, she couldn’t resist joking, "It takes a lot of work to turn a dog into a horse, but now I want you to be my steed. Take me around the house ten times."

She wasn’t afraid to take charge when the moment called for it, especially if he wouldn’t accept the respect she was offering.

Cao Xun, always the sport, got up and moved to the bed. Yunzhu, smirking, relaxed on his broad back as he stood, his muscles solid beneath her.

She had to admit, he was built for this.

He moved with ease around the spacious room, crossing past the window and circling the partition by Babu’s bed, his every step deliberate.

Yunzhu's fingers traced lightly along his ear, counting softly in a voice that made his pulse quicken. By the time she reached ten, Cao Xun was still pacing, the tension between them thickening.

With a smirk, Yunzhu murmured, "Alright, enough for tonight. Time to call it a day."

But Cao Xun wasn’t ready to stop. His voice, low and teasing, replied, "Just a little longer. I'll let you go once you're asleep."

Yunzhu raised an eyebrow, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "So if I don’t fall asleep, you’ll keep holding me?"

He smiled, the curve of his lips suggestive, “Why don’t you test it and find out?”

A playful struggle followed, her body settling on his, and she resumed her counting, each breath heavier than the last.

It didn’t take long, though. Whether it was the intense closeness or the calming, intimate atmosphere of the room, Yunzhu’s eyelids fluttered and her breath evened out. She drifted off first.

Cao Xun circled her for a moment longer, his gaze lingering, before he finally eased her onto the bed, his movements gentle, yet filled with the quiet promise of more.

*

On the tenth day of the Lunar New Year, Cao Xun once again escorted Yunzhu to visit his parents. This wasn't just a casual trip to see Li Yong—it was also to deliver their gifts for the upcoming Mid-Autumn Festival.

Li Yong, having nearly recovered after a long, grueling period, wore the guise of a man still weakened. He pretended his right shoulder remained useless—a silent refusal to return to the unforgiving role of a Jinyi Guard.

In the privacy of the women’s quarters, her mother, Meng shi, pulled Yunzhu aside and, with calm assurance, shared her thoughts. “The Emperor’s favor isn’t guaranteed for families like ours, and your father doesn’t need to gamble his safety to climb into the poisonous world of officialdom. Your brother is young, building his path with experience elsewhere, and we’re in no rush. The Li family has survived alongside the royal family all this time. Power waxes and wanes across generations, but our heritage, our traditions—those endure. Even if we live humbly now, opportunities for resurgence will always come. When a family has deep roots, even decades of shadows won’t keep it from growing toward the light.”

Meng shi’s voice was steady, but the message was razor-sharp: dynasties might change, emperors may falter, but the bloodline—that was their ace. If one generation missed its moment, the next would rise. If not them, then their children, or grandchildren. As long as the name remained unbroken, reclaiming honor was only a matter of time.

Yunzhu nodded in understanding. “I get it, Mom. Don’t worry.”

Smiling, Meng shi reached out and gently tousled her daughter’s hair—a tender touch that softened the weight of their words.

But Yunzhu couldn’t hide her lingering worry. “Brother’s just arrived in Fuzhou. I hope the bandit suppression mission goes smoothly for him.”

Meng shi, ever composed, offered a sly smile. “Smooth roads don’t make great men. Sometimes a little chaos teaches patience.”

Still restless, Yunzhu pressed on. “What about Sister-in-law? Will she manage alone while he’s gone?”

Her mother’s gaze sharpened but her voice remained cool. “She’s not you, Yunzhu. Your sister-in-law finds peace in solitude. Besides, I’m here to guide her.”

Yunzhu agreed; her mother knew best. With her worries put to rest, she accompanied Cao Xun to the Marquis of Huai’an’s birthday celebration on August 13th.

A year ago, this day had been soaked in dread. Liu Jing, the Marquis’s wife, had clung to a frail hope that her husband would see another year. And though Zhang Xingjian’s face now bore the years like deep carvings in stone, today was a victory—life, family, and friends gathered under a glowing full moon.

This year, Emperor Qianxing had even granted Zhang Hu leave to return home for the festival. The young man, radiating with elegance and promise, tugged at Yunzhu’s heartstrings. He reminded her too much of her brother, far away in Guizhou, locked in battle with bandits.

As the moon hung heavy and bright in the night sky, Yunzhu drifted into quiet reflection. Her attention waned, and she barely registered Cao Xun, Zhang Xingjian, and Gu Qinghe’s banter.

Later, as the women stepped away, Liu Jing—graceful and discerning—leaned in close to Yunzhu. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she lowered her voice. “Cao Xun was here earlier this month.”

Yunzhu raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

Liu Jing continued, tone soft but unmistakably teasing. “I don’t know the whole story, but there’s something about him—a man tangled up in matters of the heart. Our Lord Marquis has set out to seek wisdom from Buddhist scriptures. Meanwhile, Cao Xun…” She trailed off with a knowing smile.

Yunzhu blinked, at a loss for words.

Liu Jing chuckled, her voice smooth and wise. “It’s natural, really. He’s spent so long at the border, away from the world of courtship. He may be older, but emotionally? He’s like a young boy—clumsy, naïve, prone to making a fool of himself. When men like him stumble, it’s easy to be angry. But Yunzhu, when you’re angry, remember the kindness he’s shown you. Those moments—the ones that seem insignificant—are proof of where his heart lies.”

Yunzhu managed a faint smile. Liu Jing’s words lingered, but understanding Cao Xun remained an enigma. For now, she kept her thoughts to herself.

As the banquet came to a close and the moon climbed higher into the heavens, Zhang Xingjian, too weary to stand, reclined on his couch. His voice was hoarse but warm. “It’s late. Go home.”

Cao Xun nodded, rising. “We’ll meet again after the festival.”

Gu Qinghe, ever the jovial one, chimed in. “Next time, I’ll bring two casks of immortal wine. You’ll drink your fill, old friend.”

Zhang Xingjian’s tired smile deepened. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As the night came to its quiet close, the air was thick with unspoken promises, lingering looks, and the weight of old friendships—and Yunzhu couldn’t shake the feeling that amidst it all, something between her and Cao Xun hung unresolved, like the moon half-hidden behind clouds.

*

That night, Cao Xun finally slipped into a dream that had been haunting him for ages. In the vivid depths of his slumber, he and Zhang Xingjian were once again at the border, another Mid-Autumn night bathed in silver moonlight. After an extravagant feast that left their bellies full and their spirits wild, they tore out of the city, the hooves of their horses pounding against the endless grasslands, their bodies alive with the rush of the ride until their steeds faltered beneath them, breathless.

Side by side, they sprawled on the vast, open earth, chests heaving, eyes locked on the moon that glowed like a silent witness.

That night, Zhang Xingjian couldn’t stop talking. His voice was low, rough, full of a longing that even the wind couldn’t steal. He spoke of resolve, of loyalty—swearing that no matter what came his way, he’d never leave Liu Jing and their son behind.

Cao Xun remembered it so clearly—Zhang Xingjian’s hand reaching upward, stretching out like he might actually seize the moon itself. His words were raw, stripped of pretense: “I want to go back to Beijing. To hold Ah Jing in one hand and Ah Hu in the other. That’s all I want. Nothing else matters.”

At the time, Cao Xun had no family waiting for him in the capital. No wife. No son. He couldn’t quite grasp the depths of his friend’s yearning—the hunger that clawed through Zhang Xingjian’s chest.

But he still wanted it for him—wanted every damn thing his friend desired to come true.

Then, like a cruel omen, a savage wind screamed across the grasslands, whipping up the earth and swallowing the moon in a cloak of darkness.

The two of them scrambled onto their horses, fighting against the storm, reins slipping in their hands. Zhang Xingjian turned back—smiling through the chaos, eyes glinting with challenge. “Race you back to the city! Let’s see who gets there first!”

Cao Xun spurred his horse forward, chasing that grin, the sound of his friend’s laughter carried on the wind. But when he reached the gates, he realized—Zhang Xingjian was gone. Vanished.

The dream shattered.

Cao Xun jolted awake, his chest tight, his breath shallow. The room was still, silent but for the soft rise and fall of the young woman’s breath beside him. He pushed back the gauze curtain and stepped to the bedside, his gaze drawn to the sky outside.

The moon was gone, and the first threads of dawn crept across the horizon like an unwelcome intruder.

A heavy unease coiled in his gut, a tension he couldn’t shake.

When morning came, a messenger arrived from the Marquis Mansion of Huai’an. The news hit like a blade to the ribs. Zhang Xingjian—Marquis of Huai’an, hero of the border, the man who had carved his name into history with blood, sweat, and an unyielding will—was dead. Thirty-three years old, snuffed out far too soon.

The man who once reached for the moon would never see it again.