“Stop making a fuss.”
Dark clouds loomed like a heavy lid, while the withered branches in the mountains rattled noisily under the harsh western wind. A biting chill swept through, and waves of snow blanketed the sky, instantly dizzying and blinding anyone caught in the terrifying whiteout.
Tian Qin was half-buried in the snow, her bundles and belongings scattered all around. The carriage driver, realizing the gravity of the disaster he had caused, abandoned Tian Qin and her maids along with the shattered carriage, fleeing in panic to save his own life.
Zhao Lu and Wan Cui supported each other, but Wan Cui, being frailer, had turned purple in the face, her limbs stiff and immobile.
They had reached a dead end.
“Miss…”
“Damn that driver… he ran off on his own…”
An overwhelming sorrow surged within Tian Qin. Abandoned on the vast, white snowfield, she was gripped by endless fear and loneliness. The wind and snow seemed to choke her, reminiscent of her past life when she lay critically ill, discarded in a thatched hut at Xie Manor, her desperate cries for help unheard by anyone outside. Powerless, suffocated, and on the brink of despair.
An Illegitimate Daughter was just that—a life as worthless as grass. Whether she was an Illegitimate Daughter in the Yu family or a concubine, it made no difference. She could be bought, sold, abandoned, or sacrificed at will.
She never imagined that her second chance at life would end like this.
At the brink of life and death, a tall, elegant figure suddenly emerged through the snow haze, riding on horseback. His robes flapped vigorously, stirring waves of snow patterns and the soft crunch of silver hooves against the snow. In the oppressive blizzard, he brought long-awaited salvation.
Xie Tanwei dismounted and, despite the blinding snow, accurately located Tian Qin. His brows slightly furrowed as he trudged through the snow, grabbed her arm, and pulled her into his embrace, shielding her.
Tian Qin, terrified by the threat of death and stunned by her unexpected rescue, remained motionless like a frozen fish, allowing him to hold her.
A creature fallen into dire straits would cling desperately to any thread of hope, even if that thread was offered by an enemy.
“Don’t be reckless,” he chided softly, removing his pale blue long cotton Dou Peng (Cape) and wrapping it around her before lifting her onto his horse. With a glance, he signaled his attendant Zhao Ning to rescue the two maids as well.
Tian Qin’s heart felt as if it were freezing over with bitterness. Suddenly lifted onto the horse and pressed against his warm, solid chest, she instinctively sought the heat, greedily losing herself in the momentary refuge.
Xie Tanwei urged the horse forward. The twilight gloom in the mountains still cast a pale, cold light, with dark, bottomless cliffs on either side. A single misstep would mean certain death.
He held the reins with one hand while his other arm tightened around her waist, as if afraid of losing something—or perhaps out of habit.
Their clothes brushed against each other, skin touching skin.
Tian Qin shut her eyes tightly, not daring to imagine the tragic fate that might await her. Xie Tanwei’s voice, warm like sunlight piercing through the storm, fell softly beside her ear: “I’m here. Don’t be afraid.”
She blinked away frost-covered tears and gave a barely perceptible nod, her throat too choked for words—she was saved.
Shortly after they left, a thunderous roar echoed as the snow collapsed.
…
The path down the mountain was blocked by snow. Dazed and disoriented, Tian Qin was brought back to Fa Hui Temple.
Snowflakes drifted like willow catkins in the heavy snowfall. The monks, who had earlier seen Lord Xie rush out on horseback through the storm, were now shocked and angered to see him return sharing a horse with his sister-in-law, holding her in an intimate embrace. In their eyes, such an improper relationship had no place in the sanctity of the temple.
However, Xie Tanwei was ultimately Xie Tanwei—an imperial official whose word was law. To call his face that of Guanyin while harboring a serpent’s heart would be too kind. He could overturn entire temples and slaughter the Buddhist order on a whim. Who would dare defy him? Whether one could tolerate it or not, tolerance was mandatory.
Xie Tanwei was the first to dismount, extending his arms to steadily catch the faltering Tian Qin, supporting her step by step on the snow-covered ground. “How are you? Can you walk?”
Tian Qin hummed in response, sniffled slightly, her frosty tears glimmering faintly in the twilight. Her steps were unsteady and soft, almost unnaturally so.
Xie Tanwei’s eyes were as clear as the sky after snow, patient and indulgent, accompanying her slow pace as four lines of footprints trailed behind them in the snow.
The monks marveled in whispers. An avalanche had occurred on the mountainside, burying the Yu family’s third daughter’s carriage under the snow, yet she had survived without so much as a broken limb. Lord Xie had truly snatched her from the clutches of the King of Hell.
This Miss Yu was exquisitely beautiful, sweet as rice wine, her smile like the dawn—a natural enchantress meant to please men. No wonder even Lord Xie, who devoted himself to Confucian classics with ascetic restraint, had been stirred by worldly desires.
Tian Qin had narrowly escaped death but caught a chill, falling gravely ill with a high fever.
After the Yu family departed, the monks extinguished the charcoal fires in the rooms, leaving only Xie Tanwei’s chamber warm and preserved.
Tian Qin was staying in Xie Tanwei’s xiangfang, sleeping on his bed and using his bedding—a situation between a brother-in-law and his wife’s sister that could no longer be described merely as ambiguous.
With Xie Tanwei present, everything was naturally arranged with care: medicine was brewed, charcoal fires warmed the room, clean clothes were provided, and meals were served.
Buried under the blankets, Tian Qin remained trembling with fear, deliriously muttering nonsense, her tears streaming like spiderwebs as she tightly gripped his hand. “Brother-in-law, please give Hong’er back to me. Let us mother and son leave.”
“Don’t feed me Zishenzhi anymore. I can’t be saved—it’s just a waste of silver and medicine… I only wish to leave, to stop being a bother in front of you and my sister. It’s bitterly cold, and I’m freezing…”
“Brother-in-law, I hate you. You killed my favorite maid. I hate you, I’ll hate you for a lifetime…”
Xie Tanwei let her cling nervously to his arm, her sharp, slender nails digging into him, leaving bruises one after another—evidence of the intensity of her suffering, as she exerted all her strength even in her dreams.
He felt the pain but did not pull away, allowing her to pinch, ramble, and vent. Quietly, he watched the pool of tears on her pale face, occasionally brushing away the disheveled strands of hair from her forehead.
Her thrashing grew increasingly violent—limbs flailing, tears and mucus flowing freely, her white gauze sleeping gown crumpled into folds.
Xie Tanwei pressed her down, securing her limbs with both hands, his grip neither too light nor too heavy, his brow subtly furrowed.
“Stop fussing.”
Unable to move, her hands restrained as if sinking into cotton, every struggle in her dreams was effortlessly dissolved by his unseen strength.
She felt unbearably hot, her breathing soft and labored, a faint hue coloring her lips, reminiscent of the shimmering snowlight outside the window.
Xie Tanwei gazed fixedly at her, waves of sweet fragrance drifting into his nostrils like butterflies fluttering from winter to spring, shaking his prideful composure. He drew a deep, long breath, released Tian Qin, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he moved to the window and drank a mouthful of bitterly cold tea.
Zhao Lu and Wan Cui knocked softly at the door, intending to enter and attend to their young lady. Both maids had changed into clean new clothes.
Xie Tanwei cast them a cool glance, silently moved aside, his long sleeves flowing as he stepped into the frosty wind and cold snow outside the window.
“That scared me to death.” Wan Cui pressed a hand to her chest, cold sweat beading on her forehead. “Just now, Lord Xie’s gaze was like a venomous snake, piercing straight at the young lady as if he wanted to devour her.”
Zhao Lu hurriedly covered her mouth. “Don’t speak nonsense, or you might lose your tongue. Lord Xie just saved our young lady.”
Wan Cui said sadly, “Lord Xie is the young lady’s brother-in-law. The young lady doesn’t care for Lord Xie; she cares for Mr. Xu.”
But judging by Lord Xie’s wolfish, predatory gaze just now, things might not be so simple. The debt of saving a life is hard to repay in this lifetime.
The young lady is truly in a difficult position this time.
Xie Tanwei, his face cold, went to another xiangfang to change out of his snow-dampened clothes, shedding the damp chill. His own room had been taken by Tian Qin; this one was temporarily cleared out by the monks.
The monks muttered among themselves, criticizing Tian Qin for being a woman and thus unfit to enter the inner courtyard, but they were silenced by a single sharp glance from him.
Xie Tanwei was gentle and warm toward his sister-in-law, but after all, he held the dignity of a chief minister. Authority was carved into his very bones—outwardly lenient but inwardly profound, a man who could take lives on a whim. He was neither a Buddhist nor a true Confucian believer; a cruel nature lay deeper within him, overshadowing any kindness.
Yet, on the surface, he always appeared open and gentle, broad-minded and ethereal, always leaving others a sliver of dignity.
The monks fell silent, and Xie Tanwei personally oversaw the brewing of the medicine.
Zhao Lu and Wan Cui were tending to the unconscious Tian Qin when they saw Xie Tanwei return with steaming medicine. They hurriedly bowed in thanks and reached out to take it.
Xie Tanwei ignored them as if they were air, brushing past them with an indescribable, gaunt, and solitary demeanor, like a snow-capped pine atop a mountain. He swept his robe aside and sat directly by Tian Qin’s bedside, personally feeding her the medicine with a spoon.
Zhao Lu and Wan Cui exchanged a glance and silently withdrew.
Tian Qin’s teeth were pried open in her dazed state by a special technique, practiced and natural, cunning and precise, as if he knew exactly which parts of her mouth were soft and which were sensitive.
She frowned, seeming offended.
Xie Tanwei remained unmoved, composed and at ease, his refined smile chilling to the bone. He increased the intensity and fed her a few more mouthfuls.
She grew even more displeased, instinctively trying to avoid it.
He gently pressed her shoulder, leaned close to her ear, and whispered something. Even in her sleep, she shuddered and immediately stopped moving.
A large bowl of bitter, astringent medicine was fed to Tian Qin, who had always preferred sweetness over bitterness, drop by drop without a single spill.
Panting heavily, she collapsed against his knee, clinging to life, her cheeks puffed out and teeth clenched tightly, clearly sulking.
In the past, whenever they finished, she would always look half-dead like this, even though it had only been four or five times.
Xie Tanwei narrowed his long eyes, a hint of indulgence flickering within. He was about to wake her to change her sweat-drenched sleeping robe when he spotted Yu Yan’s homework booklet.
With the heavy snow sealing off the mountain, the Yu family had left in haste, leaving the homework booklet behind.
Xie Tanwei casually flipped it open.
Inside were love letters exchanged between her and that private tutor, word for word, back and forth—expressions of mutual longing, explorations of Confucian theories on the interaction between Heaven and mankind, gifts of books and ink, and a pledge to marry once one of them achieved scholarly honors.
…
Tian Qin lay on the bed for a full day and night before regaining some strength. Struggling to sit up, she drank some light egg custard, her mouth still tasting bitter.
The door creaked with a long, drawn-out sound. Seeing him enter, she quickly pretended to be asleep, pulling the covers tightly over herself.
Though she didn’t quite know why she felt the need to hide.
Xie Tanwei had been tending to her day and night without even changing his clothes, and had just stepped out to check on her decoction. Returning to her bedside, he pressed his fingertips to her forehead, their coolness carrying the chill of the outside mist.
Tian Qin stiffened, holding her breath and not daring to move.
She felt deeply unaccustomed to this—after all, in her past life, even when she had been gravely ill, he had never once come to see her.
Author’s Note: