Needed By Him

Chapter 5

Minister Qu stood in his study, the weight of his thoughts heavier than the scrolls and documents piled before him. His gaze drifted toward the window, where the morning light filtered in, reminding him once again of the day that haunted him—the day his wife, Yi Xu, had died. It had been the same day their daughter, Qin Ruo, had been born.

It was supposed to be a day of joy, a celebration of life. Instead, it had become a bitter reminder of the woman he had loved and lost. Yi Xu had been more than just his wife—she had been his partner, his confidante, and the one person who understood him better than anyone else. She had been the quiet strength behind his rise in the imperial court, her wisdom guiding him even when he doubted himself.

How could he marry again after her death?

His colleagues had urged him to take a concubine or even remarry. A man of his rank and status, especially one without a male heir at the time, was expected to expand his household and secure the family lineage. But the thought had repelled him. Yi Xu was irreplaceable.

He had loved her too deeply to bring another woman into his life while she still lived, and after her death, that love had transformed into a loyalty that persisted even in her absence. He refused to dishonor her memory by replacing her. No concubines. No new wife. Just him and his grief, which he carried alone.

And in that grief, he had unwittingly distanced himself from Qin Ruo. She was his daughter, but every time he looked at her, he couldn’t help but remember the price he had paid for her birth.

he joy of welcoming a new life had been swallowed by the anguish of losing the woman he had loved more than anything. Minister Qu had never quite been able to look at his daughter without feeling that terrible conflict. She was a living reminder of the greatest tragedy of his life.

So, over the years, he kept her at a distance, fulfilling his duties as a father but never allowing himself to get too close.

He had never truly looked at her, never saw her beyond the formality of a daughter in the household. She had always been a quiet, distant child, but he had never questioned why.

They had lived in the same house, yet they were like strangers, bound together only by their bloodline and the few formal greetings required by etiquette. He had not sought to know her, and she had not sought him out either.

From her earliest days, there had been no warmth between them. Her presence was a painful reminder of what had been lost, and perhaps, in some ways, he had resented her for it.

Qin Ruo had never been a bright or gentle child. She was quiet, reserved, and distant, even from a young age. He had simply accepted her coldness as her nature, a part of her that did not require his attention.

After all, she was a daughter, and in the grand hierarchy of family and society, daughters were not as important as sons. His focus had always been on his duties to the empire and on his sons, who would carry on the family’s legacy.

Qin Ruo, with her aloofness and silence, had never demanded his attention.

Yet over the years, he had noticed small changes in her. Her quietness deepened, her aloofness became more pronounced, and her presence seemed to fade further into the background of their household.

But he had not been troubled by these changes. She was still a woman, and in his mind, women’s lives were not to be given the same weight as the duties that occupied him as Minister.

One thing he could not ignore, though, were her nightmares. He had known about them for years—how she would wake in the night, shaking, terrified, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear.

But even then, he had considered them insignificant. What were a few nightmares in the grand scheme of things? He had told himself that she would manage on her own, as all women should.

His responsibilities to the empire were heavy, and his work consumed his time and energy. There had been no room for a daughter’s fears in his world.

Minister Qu’s hands tightened as he recalled the years spent in emotional distance, each one a missed opportunity to be a father. His sense of duty had blinded him, and now he was faced with a truth he could no longer ignore. But how could he change so many years of neglect?

It was a mistake he now regretted. In his neglect, he had allowed her to become even more distant, even colder, and now, her change was undeniable.

This morning, when he saw Qin Ruo descending the stairs—radiant, smiling, filled with an unfamiliar warmth—it had stirred something deep inside him. Guilt. How long had he neglected her?

How many moments had he missed, moments where he could have been a true father to her? He hadn’t even celebrated her birthday properly yesterday, giving her only a perfunctory greeting, a gift chosen by his servants.

His hands tightened into fists at his sides. Yi Xu wouldn’t have wanted this. She had loved their children, and he had failed to do the same—especially with Qin Ruo.

Turning from the window, Minister Qu strode to his desk and called for a servant. "Summon my sons," he ordered, his voice low but firm.

Moments later, his three sons entered the room. Each of them so different, yet bound together by their father’s strict upbringing.

Qu Zheng, the eldest, stepped forward first. He was a reflection of Minister Qu himself—a man of discipline, duty, and unyielding resolve. His stern face rarely betrayed emotion, and his broad shoulders bore the weight of family expectations without complaint.

Qu Zheng had always been the pillar of the family, the one who followed his father’s footsteps closely, taking on the mantle of responsibility with unwavering focus.

His rigid sense of duty had left no room for warmth, especially toward Qin Ruo, who had always been a quiet figure in the background of his life.

Next was Qu Han, the second son, who exuded an entirely different aura. Brimming with scholarly grace, Qu Han’s calm, thoughtful demeanor set him apart.

He spent most of his time immersed in books and intellectual pursuits, his sharp mind constantly evaluating and learning. He, too, had never formed a bond with Qin Ruo, viewing her as distant and aloof, just as their father had.

His world was one of ideas and philosophy, and Qin Ruo’s silence had made her an easy figure to ignore.

Finally, Qu Ming, the youngest, entered with a carefree smile on his face. Full of life and laughter, Qu Ming was the opposite of his stern elder brothers.

He embraced the freedom of youth, indulging in martial arts, socializing, and enjoying life’s pleasures.

His easygoing nature had made him well-liked, but it had also meant that he had never given much thought to his sister, accepting her cold demeanor without question.

To him, Qin Ruo’s distance was simply part of who she was.

Minister Qu looked at his sons in silence before finally speaking. "I’ve summoned you here to discuss your sister."

The three brothers exchanged puzzled glances. Qin Ruo had never been a topic of serious conversation before. To them, she was little more than a quiet figure on the periphery of their lives.

"Your sister, Qin Ruo, has changed recently," Minister Qu said, his tone contemplative. "This morning, she smiled and spoke with me in a way I haven’t seen in years."

Qu Han furrowed his brow. "Changed? I didn’t realize she was so reserved before."

Minister Qu’s face tightened. "That is because none of us have truly paid attention. Myself included."

Silence fell over the room. The truth of his words settled over them like a heavy weight. Each of them, in their own way, had neglected Qin Ruo, never bothering to understand her or the distance that had grown between them.

"I have known for years that she suffers from nightmares," Minister Qu admitted, his voice laced with regret. "But I dismissed it as something she could handle on her own. After all, she is a woman, and I believed such concerns were minor compared to the greater responsibilities we face."

Qu Zheng’s face remained stern, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes."Nightmares are not unusual, Father. But if you believe we should be more attentive, I’ll make the effort."

Qu Han added, "It’s true women can be more sensitive, but perhaps she has been dealing with more than we realized. I’ll pay closer attention."

Qu Ming, the youngest, shrugged nonchalantly, his usual carefree demeanor unchanged. "She’s always been quiet. If it were something serious, I’m sure we would’ve noticed by now. I didn’t think it was a big deal."

Minister Qu regarded his sons, his gaze heavy with contemplation. "Perhaps. But that was our mistake. I am not asking you to overwhelm her with attention, just to be more mindful. She is still your sister, and while she may not be a central figure in your lives, it’s important not to ignore her entirely."

Qu Zheng nodded curtly, his expression unyielding. "We will be more attentive, Father, but I doubt there’s much to be concerned about. She’ll manage, as she always has."

Qu Han added thoughtfully, "We’ll take notice of her, but as you said, there’s no need to press too much."

Qu Ming shrugged, but his carefree smile faltered for a second. "I’ll talk to her, Father, but I doubt she wants to be bothered too much."

Minister Qu watched them closely, sensing the dismissiveness in their tone. He knew they had learned to mirror his own approach—duty over emotion, action over sentiment—but something inside him stirred with unease. Still, he nodded. "That is all I ask. Just remember, she is your sister. Do not forget her completely."

As his sons left the room, Minister Qu turned back toward the window, the light casting long shadows on the walls.

He had lived too long in the shadows of his own grief, but perhaps now, there was a chance to step into the light—to finally become the father Qin Ruo deserved.