Beloved Beyond the End

Part 4.

The next morning, sect leader Jiang Fengmian, Yu Ziyuan, and Jiang Cheng arrived at the Lan Clan, their expressions taut with worry. Weiying felt utterly drained, having spent the night in a restless haze, his mind racing with thoughts that wouldn’t let him rest. What have I done? The weight of his actions pressed heavily on his chest, suffocating him. Despite the exhaustion that weighed down his limbs, it was the turmoil in his heart that kept him from finding peace. Yet, amid the chaos of his thoughts, a flicker of relief washed over him—his shijia was safe.

As he was brought into the hall, still clad in the wedding dress from yesterday's turmoil, shock rippled through the Jiang family like a cold wind. The fabric clung to him uncomfortably, a stark reminder of the events that had transpired. Jiang Fengmian stepped forward, concern etched on his face. “Weiying, why are you here?” But before he could respond, Madam Yu's voice sliced through the air like a whip. “Wei Wuxian! Why are you here in a wedding dress? Where is Li?”

Weiying’s throat tightened as he stared at the floor, unable to meet their accusing gazes. How do I explain this? The silence felt deafening; each second stretched painfully as he wrestled with his shame and guilt. He could feel Jiang Cheng’s eyes on him—filled with confusion and hurt—and it made his heart ache even more.

“Fengmian, you cheated on us!” Lan Qiren’s voice rose sharply, her anger palpable. “No! I... I did him... He doesn't know about that...” Weiying stammered, desperation creeping into his voice.

“Wei Wuxian! What does this mean? Where is Li? What did you do to her?” Yu Ziyuan continued, her fury unabated. “See Fengmian! I told you not to bring him home! Not to raise him! Look at what he’s done—my daughter is missing! You still favor him! You still don’t care about your own child! Or are the rumors true? That he’s your child?”

Each accusation felt like a dagger piercing through Weiying’s heart. I never wanted this, he thought bitterly as he kept his gaze fixed on the ground. Jiang Cheng stood beside him, torn between anger and helplessness, unsure of how to defend his brother or express his own turmoil.

When Weiying remained silent, Lan Qiran's voice rang out once more with cold authority. “Punish him! 500 strikes of wooden planks!”

Weiying felt a chill run down his spine at the sentence; dread pooled in his stomach. He said nothing but could sense Jiang Fengmian's concern radiating from beside him. Even Jiang Cheng seemed lost for words; usually so quick to express himself through anger and frustration, he now stood blank-faced and trembling.

A few disciples stepped forward to take Weiying away for punishment. The air grew thick with tension as the Jiang and Lan families gathered to witness the impending ordeal.

As the first strike landed against Weiying's back, pain shot through him like fire igniting dry grass. I deserve this, he thought numbly as they continued to hit him with the wooden planks. Each blow echoed in his ears like thunderclaps of judgment. He could feel Jiang Cheng's gaze burning into him; it was too much to bear.

With every strike counted off by an indifferent disciple, Weiying gritted his teeth and swallowed back screams of agony. I can’t let them see me break, he thought desperately as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. By the time they reached 300 strikes, bruises blossomed across his skin like dark flowers—a testament to his suffering—but still he remained silent.

Finally, unable to watch any longer as despair enveloped his brother, Jiang Cheng shouted through choked sobs, “Stop! He’s hurt! Stop it! You’re going to kill him!” Tears streamed down his face as he took a step forward, desperation clawing at him.

The hall fell silent for a moment as all eyes turned toward Jiang Cheng—caught between duty and love—and Weiying felt something shift within him; perhaps it was hope or perhaps just a fleeting wish for understanding amidst the chaos.