Chapter 44: with translation of chapter title

River City's March weather is unpredictable, easily causing one to catch a chill; the day‑night temperature difference is huge, and those with weak constitutions easily fall ill— in March it's inevitable to be sick for a few days.

"Cough cough." A few feeble coughs echoed in the empty villa; the house was gloomy, giving one a chilling feeling.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of the door opening.

She turned around, staring at the door full of affection.

A man walked in, holding a woman in his arms, "Ah, Madame is home."

Jun Aran quietly looked at the woman.

She sat on the sofa, holding a cup of steaming medicine; she wore thin black pajamas, but she was so thin only her skeleton remained.

But if you look closely, you can see a notch between her right hand's index finger and little finger.

On her ring finger she wore a platinum ring; on the wall above the sofa in the living room hung a photo. The woman in the photo looked cold and aloof, with a vermilion dot between her brows; her near‑perfect figure made it hard to look away, and though her phoenix eyes were single‑lid, they were large.

Perhaps because of her phoenix eyes, even when she sat there solemnly, she gave off a half‑closed, half‑open, not‑fully‑awake lazy feeling.

Her slightly pink thin lips were just the right amount of cool, the very picture of a cold beauty.

But the woman on the sofa had her loose hair covering half her face, her frame quite frail; if not for the eye on the other half of her face and her unique lazy aura, one might hardly believe it was the same person.

The woman in the photo had a waist as slender as a green willow, her proud, cold‑defying bearing astonishing.

"You're back?" she said as soon as she opened her mouth, her hoarse voice like a broken radio, utterly unpleasant.

Seeing this, the woman at the door couldn't help but show contempt.

The man furrowed his brows, said nothing, and just carried the woman upstairs.

"Teacher, can Madame still sing with that voice?" the female student asked deliberately.

The man chuckled, "Don't even talk about singing opera—she can't even speak clearly."

"I've heard people say Madame was peerlessly beautiful, a single gram of her incense worth ten thousand gold," the woman said while walking, her face proud.

Pei Yusen stood at the stairwell turn, looking at the woman seated on the sofa, and snorted coldly, "Don't even mention singing opera—she can't even speak clearly."

Jun Aran heard this, felt somewhat numb, with little emotional fluctuation.

Once she was so noble; now she can only watch helplessly as her husband and his disciple love each other deeply, like glue and lacquer.

But how is this not of her own making?

She was once the twenty‑ninth senior sister of Floating Gate.

Floating Gate has three branches: the Restraint Sect, the Ink Sect, and the Strict Sect; it has three thousand disciples, and even a randomly pulled‑out disciple is worth a fortune.

The Restraint Sect is the branch that prepares incense for true aristocratic heirs.

A single gram of incense is hard to come by for a thousand gold; the incense of the Restraint Sect's leader is worth a thousand gold per gram.

Someone said, a gram of Restraint incense is worth a thousand gold.

The Ink Sect studies folk art; most are scions of prestigious families who, out of liking, become disciples of Floating Gate's Ink Sect to learn folk art.

As the saying goes, ten years on stage, the Ink Sect's one year of work.

Put another way, what the Ink Sect teaches in one year lets you sing for ten years on the stage.

Floating Gate is a headquarters company with a very broad scope; the Strict Sect is a nightmare for many scions of century‑old aristocratic families, and also a necessary step in their growth.

The Strict Sect is a militarily managed school located in Puluowangsi, Laiwentedao.

The Strict Sect's school, also known as Luxifa, occupies fifteen percent of the area of Laiwentedao.

Inside, the mercenary commander will be their superior, the King of Fists their captain; they undergo devil training for the first two years, and when they can go on missions, the school consults with the aristocratic families, letting them follow the mercenaries on missions.

By comparison, the Restraint and Ink Sects are practically paradise.

Born into the Jun family of River City, she was dearly loved, yet she only wanted to marry Pei Yusen, who held a high position; Pei Yusen was the next sect leader of Floating Gate, and he had repeatedly promoted her, his junior sister.

"I only see her as my junior sister; the master ordered me to marry her, so I did—this is the master's wish." In the room, their teasing voices carried down to the downstairs living room.

Pei Yusen's words were completely correct; she was indeed forced upon him by the master.

But Jun Aran didn't believe it; this Jun Aran Manor was built for her at a cost of hundreds of billions—how could he not like her?

River City's March is truly cold; compared to that, his frolicking in bed with his disciple is even more chilling to the heart.

In the garden

She graduated from the Restraint Sect, a recognized senior perfumer in the fragrance world, addicted to flowers.

"Oh, after all these years, you still love flowers so much?" the woman who had just finished lovemaking, her body covered in bruises, said ambiguously.

Jun Aran's gaze fell on the woman's chest; the woman, laughing softly, pulled her coat together.

"I heard you're addicted to flowers," Huo Rui'er plucked a flower, gave it a light sniff, and said solemnly, "The Imperial Consort Wang's golden fragrance from the Xuanhe era."

She gave her a cold look; Huo Rui'er stared at her maimed fingers, clicked her tongue, and smiled, "I really don't understand—you can't sing, you can't blend incense, what are you even alive for?"

Jun Aran said nothing, just watched the flowers in the garden; on that bone‑chilling night, aided by the faint moonlight, she saw Huo Rui'er's triumphant expression.

"But back then, Madame also outshone the Pear Garden, her bare hands pointing at rivers and mountains; these twenty‑plus years of obscurity must not have been easy." Huo Rui'er's achievements now far surpass those of the retired, deity‑crowned Jun Aran, yet in Floating Gate she still falls far short of Jun Aran's standing.

After great difficulty she could walk alongside the Grand Sect Leader Pei Yusen, yet she stood in the way.

Jun Aran looked at Huo Rui'er with a half‑smile, her voice hoarse and low, "When I became a deity, you were still playing in the mud."

Without waiting for Huo Rui'er's reply, she continued, "Even if I hadn't become a deity, by your seniority you'd still have to address me respectfully as a senior or uncle‑master."

Just based on seniority, Huo Rui'er already loses.

"You've already retired from the circle—what kind of uncle‑master or senior are you!"

Jun Aran raised her brows and said, "But I am the legitimate heir of the Restraint Sect."

Huo Rui'er is also a disciple of the Restraint Sect, but she was born at the wrong time, with a senior brother suppressing her, unlike Jun Aran who was once so unrestrained.

Her words, half‑present and half‑absent, stimulated Huo Rui'er.

Huo Rui'er, being so young, was provoked in just a few words: "Do you really think you've become a deity? The incense you blend kills people; many dare not even use it for a day."

"Do you really think anyone still remembers you now? Even fewer people know the incense you blend."

"Hardly anyone knows you exist—why bother staying in this world?"

Under the moonlight, she smiled faintly with her phoenix eyes, yet her mutilated fingers trembled incessantly.

With all her pride, how could she let those people forget her the instant they turned away?

"Do you think you're still that leading dan from the pear garden of old?"

In the Junrou mansion, Junrou died, and in an instant it shocked the whole world.

A mere flick of her jeweled hand once commanded a fortune, yet Junrou died.

On that bitter, cold night, she stood beneath the moonlight, standing silently, saying nothing, doing nothing.

"Although that peony is lovely, how did he manage to claim the first sign of spring..."

On the third day, the entire Peking opera world was in an uproar.

The renowned leading dan, Junrou, committed suicide at home, aged 41.

This world will be different, eh! Please everyone, collect it lots; there may be some inexperience in the writing, please bear with it; I will strive hard! ()