Chapter 3

The night was as clear and flowing as water, punctuated occasionally by the crisp chirping of sparrows.

Xie Junting frowned upon hearing the sounds.

The bird calling out so loudly was a pied black bulbul that Xie Zongwei kept under the eaves outside his study.

Strangely enough, the First Minister, dignified and reserved, who preferred quiet solitude, harbored a secret fondness for birds.

Realizing he had drifted into thought, Xie Junting noticed Xie Zongwei remained silent, seemingly acquiescent. The boy tightened his jaw; the youthful awkwardness on his face was still evident, but beneath it surged a sharp, sorrowful anger that erupted like a blazing inferno, wishing to burn everything present to ashes.

“What about my mother?” he demanded.

“Do you want to place my mother’s memorial tablet in the position of the principal wife and watch as you and the new bride live happily ever after, forever united?!”

Xie Junting warned himself not to break down, not to show weakness before this cold and unfeeling man.

But he was only twelve years old. No matter how defiant he usually appeared, learning that his father was about to marry another woman, while his mother could only watch helplessly—seeing her husband wed again, and the child she bore forced to call another woman ‘mother’—filled him with unbearable grief and confusion.

Xie Junting stepped forward two paces, placing both hands on the rosewood desk, leaning toward his father.

This was a clearly provocative gesture.

Xie Zongwei calmly swallowed the harshness in his throat, lifting his head to look steadily into his youngest son’s reddened eyes.

People assumed twins looked alike.

Yet from birth, the brothers Xie Junyan and Xie Junting were distinguishable by appearance.

The elder was handsome and resembled their father more.

The younger was delicate, with eyes almost identical to their mother’s.

Now, gazing into those eyes filled with anger, grievance, and disbelief, Xie Zongwei was unusually momentarily dazed.

Through those eyes, he faintly glimpsed a trace of his late wife.

But she had been gone for ten years.

Many had reminded him of this fact. Each reminder was like a finely sharpened dagger swiftly piercing his heart.

He had endured this pain many times, growing numb so that it rarely stirred the still waters of his nearly lifeless heart.

But today, this wound came from his youngest son.

Xie Zongwei loathed hearing the truth of her death spoken from his mouth.

“Leave.”

He looked at the little lion whose fur was bristling, his gaze tinged with faint annoyance.

Xie Junting was unexpectedly sensitive to others’ moods, though he might not understand all that was said.

His father’s irritation and displeasure fell on him like a sudden downpour, chilling him to the bone.

His bristled fur flattened against his trembling body.

Without a word, Xie Junting stormed out, his pounding footsteps revealing his furious state.

The force was so great it seemed as if he might shatter the floor with each heavy step.

Perhaps because he had thought of her too many times today, hearing his son’s resentful footsteps, Xie Zongwei did not feel anger but instead recalled an old memory.

When the twins turned one and began trying to walk, their little legs were especially strong. One day, returning home from the government office, he entered the courtyard to see his wife’s radiant smile.

Startled, he was about to ask why she stood at the breeze’s edge when she grasped his arm hastily and pulled him inside.

“Husband, the children can now kick their legs so well! Come quickly and see!”

Xie Zongwei, much taller, lowered his eyes to take in her flushed face and fluttering lashes.

---

The two children lay on the luohan bed, kicking their little legs with all their might. The wet nurse and maids clapped and cheered, and even she was moved with excitement.

Xie Zongwei glanced once, then quietly shifted his gaze to his wife’s beaming face.

Looking back now, her smile, more radiant than March peach blossoms, was already tinged with a trace of melancholy.

He turned toward the open window, his usually cold and austere face softening with a hint of loneliness.

The moonlight was beautiful tonight—he wondered if the moon she saw in the heavens was any fuller.

...

Of course, it wasn’t!

Shi Lingyao sat on a bamboo chair, gazing at the round, beautiful moon overhead, gently rubbing her swollen belly. An inexplicable sensation of returning to the world filled her.

The thought made her smile.

For her, it was just awakening from a long sleep, greeted by a world ten years later.

Shi Lingyao suddenly felt grateful she had not drifted like a wisp of smoke, untouchable and unseen, her consciousness lingering alone in this world.

That would have been too lonely, too terrifying.

Tao Hong handed her a bowl of barley tea. Noticing Shi Lingyao’s clear, beautiful eyes upon her, she offered an explanation instinctively.

“This barley is from our own fields. Roasted and brewed into tea, it aids digestion. Not sure if Lady Shi is accustomed to such rustic fare.”

Shi Lingyao took the bowl with some embarrassment—she had eaten a bit much earlier.

“Thank you, Sister Tao Hong.”

Tao Hong smiled shyly.

Half a bowl later, Shi Lingyao felt better and praised Tao Hong. She promised to prepare some for her to take away the next day.

Shi Lingyao thought about Xie Zongwei’s strict nature—he would only drink one kind of tea and rather not drink at all than have anything else. Offering him barley tea would surely freeze his face the moment it was served.

Tao Hong looked at her expectantly; Shi Lingyao nodded and smiled in thanks.

No need to dampen anyone’s spirits.

She could enjoy it herself.

Tao Hong breathed a sigh of relief.

Shi Lingyao returned to her room, noticing that, with her as an outsider, the whole family seemed somewhat uneasy.

Earlier, when Gou Dan rushed to the vegetable garden to relieve himself, the taciturn farmhand quickly covered his exposed backside and ushered him into the outhouse.

Children’s laughter echoed outside.

She turned over, thinking of meeting Ye Niang tomorrow. With some luck, perhaps she would even see the twins.

She wondered what they looked like now—did they resemble her more, or Xie Zongwei?

With hopeful anticipation of reunion, Shi Lingyao slept soundly.

---

Early the next morning, after savoring Tao Hong’s fragrant radish pancake, Shi Lingyao boarded the donkey cart borrowed from Uncle Fang at the village edge.

In the village, donkeys and oxen were beasts of burden; purchasing a young donkey or calf was costly. Families like Tao Hong’s, living frugally and saving to build a new house, did not keep such animals. On rare trips to the city, they paid Uncle Fang a few coins to borrow his donkey cart.

Along the way, Fang Futou spoke little.

Except when with his wife, he was usually quiet. Facing a noble from Bianjing City now, he was nervous, fearing that speaking too much might offend the noble and risk having the golden bracelet taken back.

His wife’s dream of a brick house would be shattered, and she would never forgive him.

So Fang Futou resolved to say as little as possible.

Shi Lingyao had no mind for idle chat either.

She silently rehearsed how she would present herself to Ye Niang and the others. After all, appearing suddenly after ten years’ absence, presumed dead, would surely seem strange.

To make her story convincing, besides herself, she thought she should add some juicy details.

Perhaps that her eldest sister had given her a basket of scandalous wedding pamphlets; or that her younger brother, at twelve, had tried to play hero rescuing a beauty but was beaten black and blue, then hid in the Xie household for half a month before returning home; or maybe that their father liked to hide his secret savings beneath the bronze beast statue in his study.

Shi Lingyao felt troubled—her family had so many little secrets she wasn’t sure which would best win their trust and prove she was truly the second madam of the Shi family.

She sighed quietly.

The imposing city walls of Bianjing gradually came into view. Fang Futou heard her sigh and, thinking she worried about entering the city, awkwardly tried to comfort her.

“Lady Shi, don’t fret. I’ll park the cart near the teahouse. You can rest there while I deliver your message to your family in the city. With their guarantee, you’ll be able to return home smoothly.”

Hopefully.

Shi Lingyao nodded. “Thank you, Brother Fang.”

Fang Futou stopped the cart beside a small grove outside the teahouse and gave the waiter a few coins to watch over it.

He wouldn’t have been so generous before, but thanks to that noble and Tao Hong, he knew when not to be stingy.

The teahouse was nearly empty. The waiter, skilled and sociable, noticed Shi Lingyao’s uncommon presence. Though her attire was somewhat old-fashioned, her striking face lent an air of nobility; even the table seemed to transform into precious rosewood in her presence.

The waiter eagerly approached. “Honored guest, would you like to rest your feet? We have the finest teas, brewed with water from the Floating Cloud Spring thirty miles outside Bianjing. Freshly carried here before dawn every day. Would you care to try?”

Shi Lingyao’s mind was in turmoil—nervous and expectant—and she would have drunk even stale water gladly.

“Just a pot of plain tea, thank you.”

Though the waiter’s sales attempt failed, he remained cordial.

“Please, honored guest, have a seat. Your tea will be served shortly.”

Fang Futou watched the waiter’s sudden change in attitude; clearly, the staff were sycophantic toward city nobles and dared not neglect them.

Shi Lingyao handed Fang Futou the jade pendant tied around her waist and repeated the location of the Shi residence. Seeing him nod repeatedly, she smiled.

“Thank you for making this trip for me, Brother Fang.”

Fang Futou shyly shook his head, glanced at the sky, and hurried toward the city gate after bidding her farewell.

He dared not delay. Following the address Shi Lingyao gave, he went to Anren Lane.

Bianjing was known for its east side of wealthy nobles and west side of affluent merchants. It was Fang Futou’s first time in such a place, where even the bricks beneath his feet looked finer than his worn clothes. Nervous, he walked stiffly.

Looking up at the mansion, the stone beasts guarding the gate still stood proudly, though the place felt desolate.

Snapping out of his daze, Fang Futou knocked on the door but was met with silence.

Surely, even if Lady Shi’s family worried about her, they wouldn’t have sent everyone to search.

Puzzled, Fang Futou was approached by a passerby who noticed his vacant stance.

“The family who lived here moved out long ago. You’re knocking on the wrong door.”

Moved out long ago?

Fang Futou was confused and asked more questions. The passerby kindly explained:

“The Shi family left about five or six years ago. Apparently, the master’s wife was devastated by their youngest daughter’s death and became ill, so the whole family returned to their old home in Jiangzhou. Such a pity for this grand mansion, once bestowed by the Sage as the Grand Tutor’s residence—so magnificent, now abandoned.”

The passerby sighed and walked away, leaving Fang Futou standing speechless.

The family had left long ago, yet Tao Hong said Lady Shi had only become separated from her family yesterday.

And Lady Shi looked so well-off—it was hard to believe she was deceiving them.

Fang Futou was perplexed.

He hurried back to the teahouse, breathless, to tell Shi Lingyao the family had long since moved away.

The hopeful expression on her face instantly froze.