“Brother-in-law will massage it for you.”
Xie Tanwei tested her forehead temperature, finding nothing unusual. Tian Qin’s heart tightened—the quilt and pillow in the side room carried a faint, almost imperceptible pine fragrance identical to his own scent. These had been used by him.
This side room originally belonged to him. The desk was covered with ink stains and rice paper, cluttered yet orderly, piled stack after stack—dozens of topics he had drafted these past few days for the late spring Policy Examination.
The entire side room was as pristine as a snow cave, yet not cold; the charcoal fire burned just enough to be imperceptible.
Tian Qin tried hard to feign sleep, but her erratic breathing made her long crow eyelashes flutter, her brows and eyes tense with strain.
She felt deeply embarrassed, both physically and mentally. Having been reborn, she still had to rely on him, instinctively turning to him in desperation—the thought alone nauseated her.
After a long silence, the surroundings remained utterly quiet. Tian Qin slowly opened her eyes, startled to find Xie Tanwei still there.
He gazed calmly: “Since you’re awake, drink the medicine. Why pretend to sleep?”
Her heart pounded violently. Forced to confront him directly, she propped herself up, her voice muffled: “Brother-in-law.”
Xie Tanwei acknowledged with a hum and brought the medicine to her lips. Tian Qin declined: “I’m almost recovered, no need to drink more.”
Observing her pale complexion, he said: “Be good.”
Two simple words, yet carrying great weight.
Tian Qin obediently opened her mouth. The spoonful of bitter medicine touched her palate, faintly conveying his strength—reminiscent of his previous life when he’d lazily smiled and slid his clean fingers inside, joking “just once, to measure your mouth’s capacity.”
She abruptly grabbed his hand, haunted by nightmare memories, stopping him: “I’ll drink it myself.”
Xie Tanwei released his hold.
Spring sunlight after snowfall poured through the window in countless golden rays.
“Drink it all,” he reminded.
Tian Qin endured the bitterness and finished the medicine, yet her heart grew more troubled. Xie Tanwei took the bowl and placed a candied lotus seed in her mouth, his gentle movements affecting every nerve.
His fingertips inevitably brushed her lips—a warm touch that startled Tian Qin, yet he remained completely natural, without the slightest hesitation, as if this was how they should always be.
The candied lotus seed melted in her mouth, thawing the frozen surface into a spring lake. Tian Qin lowered her lashes, chewing slowly for a while.
Outside, the snowscape remained turbulent. Her lingering fear unsettled her, a sour liquid suspended in her nose, wetter than snow. She had nearly become a snow ghost, yet no one from the Yu family cared.
She curled her knees, hugging herself tightly, burying herself in the quilt as if to block out the freezing wind and snow.
Xie Tanwei sighed softly, patting her shoulder with a hazy yet profound warmth that brought comfort: “Don’t panic, brother-in-law is here.”
Tian Qin stared blankly, inexplicably moist-eyed, wishing he had said these words to her in her previous life. Now, it was already too late.
Her pitiful expression nearly shattered as she buried herself in his embrace, sobbing: “Brother-in-law—”
His eyes remained calm as a mirror, releasing a long, soft sigh: “Third sister.”
“My ankle hurts,” she swallowed her tears, “I need a traditional Chinese medicine practitioner.”
“The practitioner is right here, but can’t treat your foot.” Xie Tanwei lifted the quilt, gently holding her jade feet clad in white silk stockings, his brow softening with warmth, “Brother-in-law will massage it for you.”
Tian Qin tried to pull back, but he held firm.
“I don’t want…” She glanced at him with desperate pleading, tears streaming down her face.
Xie Tanwei applied some pressure, whispering gently and warmly, “Be good, I want you.”
In this isolated mountain snow temple where she had no one else to rely on, he was her sole support—the tall tree she, as a snow dodder flower about to freeze to death in the blizzard, had no choice but to cling to.
…
Tian Qin had been curled up on the warm couch in the Xiangfang for another day before finally overcoming her fear of the wind and snow and attempting to walk around.
The storm had long ceased. Bright sunlight shone upon the white snow, while scattered clouds in the azure sky were sparse, as if combed through. Fine, powdery snowflakes still drifted within the reviving east wind.
The monks were sweeping the snow in an orderly manner, and the mountain path buried under snow was being cleared. Those on the mountain could not descend for now, nor could those below ascend.
Fortunately, spring had arrived with its serene scenery. Warmth was gradually returning from the earth, and this once-in-a-century heavy snow would soon melt away.
Xie Tanwei wrapped an extra layer of the Dou Peng around her and supported her as she stepped onto the snow. Her ankles had minor cracks and she couldn’t walk extensively yet, her pace as slow as a snail’s.
Feeling his close warmth, Tian Qin grew uneasy all over: “Brother-in-law, I’m fine. I can walk on my own.”
Xie Tanwei paid no heed, speaking softly, “Adjust your walking posture properly, so you don’t develop a limp.”
Tian Qin slowly lowered her gaze, correcting her steps as he offered cool yet gentle guidance beside her, his sleeves swaying lightly with measured precision.
Zhao Lu and Wan Cui followed at a distance but couldn’t approach. When Lord Xie was by the young lady’s side, it was as if an invisible boundary had been drawn, enveloping her so that she could only be with him.
The young lady and Lord Xie had already done things far more intimate—even her jade feet had been held by Lord Xie.
Last night, the young lady had leaned in Lord Xie’s embrace, weeping and begging him repeatedly to let her go, only to be mercilessly refused.
He had gripped her chin, asking with a soft chill, “When the avalanche happened on horseback, why didn’t you ask me to let you go? Now, you remember?” forcing her into speechless silence.
Lord Xie did not seem as gentle and benevolent as he appeared.
Being in such close contact with Xie Tanwei, Tian Qin’s heart churned like boiling water. Constrained by propriety and unable to refuse, she secretly worried that this heavy snow had turned the temple into an isolated, lonely place, trapping her and him together—truly, heaven was making things difficult for her.
How many days until the snow melted?
He led her to a large blue stone where the terrain was elevated, snowflakes brushing their faces. Overlooking the entire Fa Hui Temple, this was the best vantage point.
Xie Tanwei had her sit down while he gazed alone at the thawing streams winding around the mountain’s belly. The lofty wind pierced through his white robes.
“Bored?” he asked, then drew out the Yu Xiao he carried with him. Ethereal and desolate notes of the flute spilled forth between the mountain snow.
Tian Qin’s eyelids twitched; she had never heard him play the flute before. In her past life, opportunities for them to be alone like this were rare.
Monks were sweeping the accumulated snow in the distance. Had they not known he was her brother-in-law and she his wife’s younger sister, one might truly mistake them for a perfect couple.
“It sounds beautiful,” she praised as the piece ended.
Xie Tanwei said, “The flute’s music can purify the heart. When I’m troubled, I play a tune for myself, transforming worries into Bodhi.”
“Only Brother-in-law’s flute music can do that,” she lowered her eyes, her tone quiet and sorrowful. “I have a flute too, but my playing is discordant and unpleasant.”
Xie Tanwei smiled faintly, like the slightly cold sky of early spring: “I’ll teach you. It’s actually not hard to learn.”
Tian Qin shook her head: “No need. What isn’t meant to be mine from the start, I can’t learn even if I try.”
He tucked the flute at his waist and sat with her on the large bluestone, his expression casual yet resigned. “Fine, as you wish.”
They basked together in the spring sun after the snowfall. Ancient trees bore sparse white plum blossoms, their fragrance drifting intermittently, elusive and subtle.
With family temporarily unreachable, they were each other’s sole company. In this tranquil atmosphere, sitting side by side without tension or deceit, they purely savored the moment.
After a while, Tian Qin asked in a flat tone, “Does Brother-in-law often play the flute for my sister as well?”
Xie Tanwei replied, “Your sister doesn’t care for such things.”
She frowned. “Brother-in-law is lying. Second Sister has always been fond of string and wind instruments at home.”
He smiled but didn’t respond.
The sky stretched azure, the spring waters vast. Today’s flute playing wasn’t for anyone in particular—it simply suited the season and occasion, a coincidence.
Tian Qin knew he was a man of refined elegance, proficient in all six arts of a gentleman, but she also knew he was an extremely aloof and formidable person.
She bowed her head. “I haven’t yet thanked Brother-in-law for saving my life.”
Xie Tanwei’s pupils reflected the serene spring sky. “There’s no need for such formality, little sister.”
Tian Qin said, “Gratitude is gratitude, resentment is resentment. I must repay you.”
She occupied his Xiangfang and heard that only his presence kept the monks from causing trouble, stirring a complex sense of indebtedness in her heart.
That day, the blizzard had been unnaturally fierce, the fog so thick one could hardly see an arm’s length away. He had braved the avalanche danger to rescue her from near-freezing death.
“Brother-in-law, name your price—be it money or any task within my power—and Tian Qin will gladly oblige.”
She hesitated, wanting to add “except becoming a concubine.”
“Repayment isn’t necessary. I only hope that in the future, when you think back, you’ll remember your brother-in-law had at least a sliver of goodness.”
Xie Tanwei sighed, seeming genuinely without intent to leverage the favor, carrying only a regret lighter than the fine snow in the air.
Tian Qin had prepared rebuttals for when he demanded she become his concubine, but suddenly they were useless.
She couldn’t fathom his thoughts. If he had despised and been merciless toward her in their previous life, why did he repeatedly entangle with her in this one, pressure her to be his concubine, and even rescue her through the snow?
Evading his ambiguous words, she replied with a hint of grievance, “Is that so? Brother-in-law says no repayment is needed, but I dare not believe it. I’ve experienced your power before—last time you escorted me back, it led to Zhumu suspecting and shunning me.”
Xie Tanwei curved his lips. “That was your brother-in-law’s kindness, helping you avoid disaster. Why blame me instead?”
She and Xu Junzheng had met privately without permission. If He Shi had discovered them, it would have been far worse than mere suspicion and neglect.
“Brother-in-law escorting you was clearly covering for you.”
Tian Qin neither agreed nor disagreed, rising nonchalantly from the bluestone and nearly stumbling. Xie Tanwei, smiling, offered a hand. Their palms met again, the heat startlingly intense.
Tian Qin hastily pulled away. Xie Tanwei also stood, brushing his knuckles against her cheek, chilled by the west wind. “Cold?”
She nodded blankly, stiff and distant.
He took her hand again and led her back indoors to warm up, lest her unhealed ankle slip on the snowy ground.
Tian Qin’s mind was clear: she could find other means to repay his life-saving grace, but becoming his concubine was absolutely non-negotiable.
Once the ice and snow melted and she left this secluded Fa Hui Temple, she would remain the Third Miss of the Yu family, and he the head of Xie Jia. Each in their rightful place, their paths would not cross again.
Tian Qin returned to the side room, her cheeks flushed from the warm breeze. Just as she was about to find an excuse to send Xie Tanwei away, her eyes suddenly fell upon the neatly arranged books and ink stains on the desk, along with discarded drafts.
In that instant, she recalled Xu Junzheng’s obscure and difficult questions. If she could find the answers, Xu Junzheng might just pass the imperial examinations.
The true teacher was right before her eyes—if she didn’t ask now, when would she ever?