“A joke should know its limits…”
Xie Tanwei escorted Tian Qin back to the xiangfang (side room) and was about to leave when she subtly caught the corner of his robe.
Surprised, he asked, “Is something the matter?”
Tian Qin lowered her head with a solemn expression, her voice damp and filled with unspoken worries. “When I was little, Second Sister often taught me calligraphy, guiding my hand stroke by stroke. But ever since she married Brother-in-law, she stopped teaching me.”
He smiled calmly. “Do you resent your brother-in-law for taking your sister away?”
Tian Qin silently acknowledged this, then self-deprecatingly added, “I wouldn’t dare. Perhaps my handwriting is too poor, and I’m too slow to learn, so Sister no longer enjoys teaching me.”
One advantage of speaking with Xie Tanwei was that she didn’t need to spell everything out—he could almost read her mind, understanding her implications with just a hint.
Xie Tanwei glanced at the brush and books on the table. “What’s so difficult about practicing calligraphy? With nothing to do in the mountains and paper on the table, practice a few pieces if you wish. You can ask your Second Sister for guidance when you return.”
“Thank you, Brother-in-law. You and Sister always indulge me.”
Skillfully maneuvering, Tian Qin naturally approached the desk. She saw scroll after scroll densely covered with potential examination questions he had drafted—any one of which could determine the fate of countless scholars who had studied diligently for ten years.
Her heart raced, but she feigned nonchalance, gently tracing the inked characters on the desk. With a serene, clever smile, she said, “Brother-in-law is a renowned calligraphy master of our time. I wonder if I might be fortunate enough to receive a sample of your work.”
Xie Tanwei agreed simply, twirling the brush and dipping it in ink. “Which characters would you like? I’ll write them for you.”
Tian Qin casually suggested a few auspicious phrases, and Xie Tanwei effortlessly brushed them onto paper, presenting them to her.
She admired them from all angles, unable to put them down. “Brother-in-law’s handwriting is truly beautiful—elegant as a startled swan. I could never achieve such skill in my lifetime.”
Xie Tanwei teased, “It’s rare for you to show interest in scholarly matters.”
Flustered by his jest, Tian Qin twisted her warm handkerchief in her palms, her cheeks glowing faintly. “It’s only because Yan Ge’er has been overwhelmed with studies lately. He often comes to me, his elder sister, with questions, but I can’t answer them.”
She broached the topic, hoping he would promptly inquire further so she could smoothly bring up the questions Xu Junzheng had been pondering.
Unexpectedly, Xie Tanwei showed no interest, sidestepping the issue. “The family has hired a private tutor. Yan Ge’er should direct his questions to him. What you excel at, little sister, has never been these pedantic Confucian texts.”
His tone carried a hint of frivolity and indifference, as if he regarded the Confucian classics he mastered as mere fleeting clouds.
Tian Qin understood that although he was revered as the finest essayist in the world, stuffy academic writing was not his forte—it was, in fact, the least significant of his many talents.
His true expertise lay in destroying hearts with words, stabbing others in the back, masking daggers with honeyed words, physical and psychological control, manipulation, mockery, turning tables on villains, and crushing someone to death.
Or, in concocting medicines—remedies, poisons, drugs that brought pleasure, induced madness, saved lives, or delivered death—cinnabar, Qing Gu (love poison), the Nine-Nine Heartbreak Powder.
These were things she had only glimpsed on the verge of death in her previous life.
Biting the inside of her lip, Tian Qin fought to overcome her fear for the sake of her and Xu Junzheng’s future, maintaining her smile. “Indeed, but I’ve been reading the Confucian classics lately and find some passages quite baffling. The sages’ words in the books are as obscure as clouds and mist.”
“Only what Brother-in-law teaches can I understand.”
Her graceful silhouette edged closer as she studied his expression, cautiously asking: “Brother-in-law, would you be willing to teach Tian Qin? They say outside that even a thousand taels of gold can’t buy a single word of wisdom from Master Xie. Tian Qin has no thousand taels of gold, only thick skin.”
“Have me teach you?”
Xie Tanwei’s gaze fell upon the twilight outside the window where night dew glistened on snow-laden branches. Though darkness had fallen, she still clung to him, refusing to let him leave.
Indulging her with resignation, he replied: “Very well, speak.”
Seizing the opportunity, Tian Qin immediately presented the three questions Xu Junzheng had asked: Why did the virtuous reigns of Yao and Shun eventually lead to the tyranny of Jie and Zhou? Though all were sage rulers, why did Yao and Shun rule with ease while Duke of Zhou exhausted himself? Is the Confucian advocacy for restoring ancient ways correct?
Xie Tanwei promptly answered each question in sequence, offering not only his personal insights but also what would become the “standard answers” for the upcoming Policy Examination—
That Yao and Shun’s virtuous rule led to Jie and Zhou’s tyranny wasn’t due to Yao and Shun’s errors, but rather Jie and Zhou’s lack of virtue. That Yao and Shun ruled effortlessly while Duke of Zhou struggled was because Yao and Shun obtained the throne through abdication, whereas Duke of Zhou rose with King Wen and King Wu through rebellion—these cannot be compared equally. That Confucian advocacy for restoring ancient ways proved ineffective was because it failed to address the core issues properly…
He continued explaining at length while Tian Qin’s head throbbed with effort. She endured the discomfort, committing his words to memory and striving to reconstruct his exact phrasing.
Fortunately, though she wasn’t particularly studious, her memory remained adequate, allowing her to retain content through rote memorization.
“Brother-in-law, could you speak slower?”
She tugged at his sleeve, shaking it back and forth in her anxiety, resembling a little fox spinning in circles. Xie Tanwei lightly teased her before acquiescing, deliberately slowing his delivery.
After his first explanation, Tian Qin again clung to Xie Tanwei, begging him to repeat everything with all manner of gentle pleas, ensuring her memory would hold no errors.
Without exposing her struggle, Xie Tanwei repeated his explanation in leisurely tones, though not faithfully—he expanded with lateral reasoning, selected and cited classical allusions, rendering originally complex questions even more intricate. Finally, he asked: “Understood?”
Tian Qin’s mind nearly sparked with frustration, her eyes fixed in dazed silence as unnamed irritation simmered. After long chewing and digesting his words, she finally exhaled softly and nodded.
“Understood.”
She resembled a dandelion of early spring—a gentle, slightly foolish little creature, her earnest, bewildered efforts at memorization appearing utterly charming.
Xie Tanwei smiled faintly, unable to resist recalling their shared past life. Gently, he ruffled her hair.
Tian Qin, immersed in Confucian classics with her mind still feverish, started at his sudden touch, lifting her head in surprise.
Xie Tanwei’s hand hovered mid-air, as if such casual affection were commonplace.
Somewhat unsettled, she collected herself: “Thank you, Brother-in-law.”
He replied: “You’ve thanked me already. Why thank me again?”
The lingering warmth of his fingers remained in her hair as her tone turned formal: “Of course I must thank you—not only for Brother-in-law’s instruction, but more for saving my life. In that terrible blizzard, only Brother-in-law risked himself to rescue Tian Qin.”
In truth, as a Confucian moral exemplar maintaining his sage reputation, he would have exerted equal effort to save any sibling in distress—Ku Ju, Yu Ye, Yu Yan—showing no particular favor to her.
She had long released matters of their previous life—he never loved her, his nature being inherently venomous and aloof.
Uncertain how to repay this life-saving grace.
Surprisingly, Xie Tanwei made no demand for repayment, treating the rescue with detached lightness: “We’re all family. It was only natural.”
Tian Qin’s voice caught in her throat, sweet as osmanthus blossoms, tears welling unconsciously at the corners of her eyes: “I know, sister and Brother-in-law are the best people. You care for me most dearly. Before she left, sister even said she would stay at the temple with me. How could Tian Qin not understand this kindness?”
“I truly adore sister and Brother-in-law, sincerely admire you both. You’re a match made in heaven—good people deserve good fortune, destined to be a loving couple for a hundred years of harmony.”
She spoke these words in one breath, nearly losing her air, appearing innocent and naive, sweetly charming yet fragile, like a shadow trailing behind her sister and brother-in-law, brimming with heartfelt sincerity.
Had anyone else uttered these words, Xie Tanwei might have responded with a light laugh, but coming from Tian Qin, they carried an entirely different meaning.
Her persistent praise of his harmonious match with Xianqiu seemed like an attempt to draw boundaries, placing herself firmly outside their relationship.
Xie Tanwei gently wiped her translucent tears, comforting without particular emotion: “Don’t cry. When you weep, your brother-in-law’s heart aches as if being sliced knife by knife.”
These years she had endured hardship living under others’ roofs—the Yu family was a pit of fire. Just like during this snowstorm that trapped the mountains, the Yu family fled for their lives yet abandoned a young, delicate girl in her teens alone.
If not for the monks guarding the mountain and his coincidental stay at the temple to set examination questions, her delicate spirit might have long been buried in the snow’s embrace.
“As long as Brother-in-law understands this younger sister.” Tian Qin embarrassedly dried her tears, smiling through her sorrow, crystalline drops still clinging to her lashes. “I hope sister recovers quickly from her illness, that Brother-in-law and sister soon have children of your own. When that time comes, Tian Qin will definitely play with them often.”
Once again, her words deliberately excluded herself from their circle.
Xie Tanwei’s good mood gradually faded under her calculated repetitions. “Does younger sister not wish to leave the Yu family? To live a stable life hereafter, free from struggling for survival? To entrust yourself to the sister and brother-in-law you claim to adore?”
“Our several encounters at Fa Hui Temple prove our connection. What I told you days ago was no empty promise—if I can protect you once, I can shelter you for a lifetime.”
“When you face danger or suffer bullying in the future, your brother-in-law will shield you completely just as now, ensuring your peace. You’re exhausted—henceforth you need not rely solely on yourself for everything.”
He guided her patiently with unwavering determination.
All Tian Qin’s circuitous and euphemistic remarks had proven useless, her words wasted against his impervious resolve that continued to envelop her in profound tenderness.
Her heart grew cold inch by inch, like a drowning person helplessly struggling—the more she resisted, the faster she sank, her limbs turning icy.
“Brother-in-law speaks of things this younger sister doesn’t understand.”
She persistently avoided his meaning, playing the fool behind a masked smile, completely disregarding his words.
“Having disturbed Brother-in-law for several days at the temple already shames Tian Qin—how could there be reason to trouble you for a lifetime?”
Xie Tanwei abruptly seized her wrist. “You understand. Tian Qin, this jest should end now.”
Gasping under his grip, she met his gaze steadily.
Both remained motionless for a long moment.
After a pause, Xie Tanwei smiled calmly, releasing her crumpled sleeve to gently wipe ink stains from her nose.
“You’ve smudged your face.”
Tian Qin seized the chance to withdraw her hand, touching her nose while her expression remained somber, still immersed in their previous confrontation.
“…Tian’er was careless.”
She offered no further vivid protest—it would be useless. He was serious, determined to claim her. No amount of refusal could change his mind.
Xie Tanwei departed, leaving Tian Qin alone in the xiangfang.
Tian Qin was left with an empty feeling as she collapsed onto the couch, utterly drained. He likely knew exactly what she was thinking and was deliberately making things difficult for her.
But she would not give up. No matter what, she must not return to the fiery pit of Xie Jia and repeat the mistakes of her past life.