Why Did She Have to Die? Pursuit of Jade's (逐玉) Hero Discovers His Mother's Painful Sacrifice After 17 Years of Hate
For seventeen years, Xie Zheng (谢征) carried a heavy stone in his heart. That stone was hatred for his mother, the woman he believed had abandoned him. He remembered the sweet smell of Guihua Gao (桂花糕) , the osmanthus cakes, filling their home in the capital. He remembered her gentle voice, telling him to go out and play. He remembered running back to find her still and silent, hanging from the beam. In his young mind, it was the ultimate act of selfishness and cowardice. He refused to call her mother, referring to her only as "that woman."
Raised by his uncle, the powerful Prime Minister Wei Yan (魏严), Xie Zheng (谢征) grew into a formidable general, known as the "God of War." But the past never truly faded. It festered, a wound that would not heal, driving him to uncover the truth about his father's death years ago. What he found would shatter everything he thought he knew and force him to confront a love so deep, it was disguised as the ultimate loss.
The Weight of a Mother's Silence
The day his world ended began like any other. Little Xie Zheng, only a child, was given a piece of his favorite sweet Guihua Gao by his mother, Wei Wan (魏绾). Her smile, as she sent him out to the courtyard, was a mask for the profound sorrow in her heart. After he left, she carefully dressed in her finest clothes. Sitting before her bronze mirror, she painted her eyebrows and applied rouge with deliberate care. This was not an act of vanity; it was a final ritual, a way to face death with dignity.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back, determined to leave a peaceful image behind for her son. From the window, she watched his small figure disappear, whispering a goodbye he could not hear, a promise she could not keep. The single tear that fell as she closed the window was the last drop of her visible pain.
When Xie Zheng returned, tired from his games, he was met with chaos and cries. His mother was gone. The warmth of the day was replaced by an icy confusion that would freeze his heart for nearly two decades. He was taken to his uncle's grand residence, a place of power and privilege, but it felt like a gilded cage. His uncle provided tutors for military strategy and scholars for classical texts, but no one could fill the void his mother left. His cousin, Wei Xuan (魏宣), was a constant tormentor, a daily reminder that he was an outsider in his own family. The questions burned inside him: Why did she leave? Was I not enough? These questions curdled into a bitter resentment. He built a fortress around his heart, with "that woman" as its central, hated figure.
The Dangerous Pursuit of Truth
Years passed, and Xie Zheng became the celebrated Marquess of Wu'an (武安), his military prowess legendary. But the ghosts of the past were not buried with his childhood. The massacre at Jinzhou (瑾州), where his father General Xie Linshan (谢临山) and his army perished, began to show cracks in the official story. Strange inconsistencies nagged at him, prompting him to dig deeper. He knew this path was dangerous, but the need for truth was a fire he could not extinguish. His investigation was cut short by a brutal assassination attempt, one that nearly succeeded. Bleeding and fighting for his life, he was stunned when the evidence pointed to a single, impossible culprit: his own uncle, the man who raised him, Prime Minister Wei Yan. The betrayal was as sharp as any blade.
The question screamed in his mind: Why? His mother, Wei Wan, was Wei Yan's beloved sister. On her deathbed, she had left a letter entrusting her son to her brother's care. It pleaded for the late general's troops to remain loyal to the court and begged her brother to raise Xie Zheng as his own. Wei Yan had seemingly fulfilled that promise. So why, now that Xie Zheng was a man, did his uncle want him dead simply for asking questions about the past?
The horrifying possibility dawned on him. Perhaps his father's death and the massacre were not a tragic loss in battle, but a deliberate act. And who benefited most? Wei Yan, who rose from the ashes of that war to become the most powerful man in the empire. This suspicion hardened Xie Zheng's resolve. He would not stop until the full, ugly truth was laid bare.
A Love Letter Written in Osmanthus Blossoms
The final revelation was a hammer blow to Xie Zheng's soul. His mother, Wei Wan, was not a helpless victim. She was the sole keeper of a terrible secret. She knew her brother, Wei Yan, had been lured from his post by a court conspiracy involving Lady Qi Rongyin (戚容音), the woman he loved. This act of passion led to the catastrophic lack of supplies that doomed General Xie and his army at Jinzhou.
To avenge Lady Qi's death and cover up his own fatal error, Wei Yan had stormed the palace and seized power. Wei Wan understood her brother's character completely. He was a man capable of great love and monstrous cruelty. She knew that as long as she and her son remained, they would be living reminders of his guilt, a threat he might eventually eliminate. Her survival was their death sentence.
So, she crafted a different fate. Her suicide was not an escape; it was a meticulously planned strategy. By dying and entrusting Xie Zheng to Wei Yan, she weaponized his remaining shred of familial love and his fear of public shame. How could he harm a child his own sister died to protect? The guilt would be a chain around his conscience.
Furthermore, the loyal remnants of the Xie army, seeing their young master raised and educated by the Prime Minister, would eventually transfer their allegiance to him, ensuring his future power and safety. Standing before his mother's spirit tablet, a simple piece of wood now more precious than gold, Xie Zheng finally understood. The gentle woman who gave him Guihua Gao had given him everything. With the same sweet cakes in his hand and tears streaming down his face, he knelt and whispered, "Mother, forgive me." The seventeen years of hate dissolved in an instant, replaced by a love as profound and enduring as her sacrifice.
