“Let’s elope…”
The meteoric rise of the poor scholar Xu Junzheng had drawn undue attention, like a tall tree catching the wind, attracting a swarm of old foxes lurking in the political arena.
Some watched with envy, others with jealousy—their scorching gazes converged on Xu Junzheng, each stare piercing like nails driven into his spine.
At dawn, the emperor received a secret impeachment letter accusing Xu Junzheng, the top candidate in the recent imperial examinations, of fraud. His exam paper was allegedly identical to the “model answer” written by chief examiner Xie Tanwei—a full four thousand characters, discussing ancient sage emperors Yao and Shun, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucian reforms, matching word for word as if typeset from the same printing block.
The model answer, penned by Xie Tanwei, demonstrated profound insight—clear yet subtle, righteous yet politically astute, with penetrating analysis. Many points drew from his personal experiences, unmistakably reflecting the wisdom of a seasoned official, not something a bookish scholar could imitate.
The essay employed lengthy parallel prose, elegant and meticulously balanced, characteristic of Xie Tanwei’s style—a hallmark of all his examination answers over the years.
The scandal sent shockwaves through the court. The emperor immediately summoned Xie Tanwei for an audience, interrogating him sternly about the fraud allegations.
Xie Tanwei pleaded ignorance.
He was largely lying through his teeth. As the chief examiner, he couldn’t possibly fail to recognize his own writing. His denial seemed intended to protect someone.
The emperor ordered him to swiftly uncover the truth—whether someone had leaked the questions or stolen the exam papers—and gave him three days to resolve the matter.
The scandal had grown too explosive; the emperor had to answer to the civil and military officials. The investigation was to remain confidential for now, with no extensions granted.
“Minister Xie, you are a pillar of the previous reign, and I have long relied on you since my accession. I expect you to restore fairness and justice for all scholars. Do not disappoint me. Otherwise, despite your esteemed reputation, I will have no choice but to punish you severely.”
The emperor coughed, clutching his chest, his frail body flushed with anger. In his narrowed imperial gaze flickered suspicion that Xie Tanwei might be trading official posts for profit—exploiting the promotion of humble scholars to infiltrate the court, deceive the sovereign, and undermine the state.
Truth be told, the emperor’s patience with the powerful Xie family had reached its limit. The Xies had repeatedly overstepped boundaries and flouted laws. Were it not for consideration of the Empress Dowager’s feelings and Xie Tanwei’s vast, wave-like influence as a mentor to countless scholars, the emperor would have long ago uprooted the family entirely.
When Xie Tanwei left the palace, the sky was overcast. Rain deepened the emerald hues of the distant hills, cool wind billowed through his sleeves, and swallows swooped low. Soon, a dense downpour poured forth, splashing layers of white foam.
Imperial examination fraud.
Seated in his carriage, he rested his chin on one hand, the phrase echoing in his mind—someone would have to take the fall.
If he took the blame and admitted to lazily reusing Xu Junzheng’s answers, he would merely lose his status as the “Sage Teacher” in the hearts of scholars, be exiled from the capital, but keep his life.
If Xu Junzheng took the fall, his career would be utterly ruined, facing execution for deceiving the emperor—a devastating price for his greed, with the Yu family implicated alongside him.
The choice was obvious.
Unfortunately, he was no born bodhisattva. There was no need to vouch for others and play the scapegoat.
Besides, Xu Junzheng had committed fraud—every word of the essay was his own, and Xu Junzheng had copied it verbatim.
He truly couldn’t help but doubt Yu Tianqin’s judgment. In her rush to escape him, she had agreed to marry such a worthless man.
And she hadn’t even covered her tracks properly, leaving him to clean up the mess.
…
The next day, the sky cleared, and the rain gave way to sunshine.
In the Hall of Learning and Reflection of the Hanlin Academy, several elegantly dressed Hanlin Academicians were chatting and laughing merrily, gathered here as the examiners for this session’s policy examination.
Today marked the newly selected scholars’ formal ceremony of paying respects to their mentors.
Influenced by the Confucian tradition of honoring teachers and revering their teachings, the first meeting between scholars and their mentors after the imperial examinations was of great importance. It was not only a mutual recognition between teacher and student but also an unspoken ritual of forming factions and alliances, determining under whose patronage one would find shelter in the future.
When the hour arrived, the doors swung open, and over thirty scholars selected from across the nation streamed in. Their demeanor was anxious yet graceful as they met with the Hanlin Academicians.
Among them, some had already become Shujishi, others were chosen as attendants to the Crown Prince, and some hailed from powerful and wealthy aristocratic families. They were a constellation of outstanding talents with boundless futures.
As the top scorer of the first rank, Xu Junzheng should have been the center of attention, but he was lost among the glittering array of scholars. His head was bowed, his back slightly hunched, making him appear particularly ill at ease.
Hailing from the humble Xu family, who had farmed for generations, the grandest household Xu Junzheng had ever set foot in before was Yan Ge’er’s private school. Though he had luckily secured first place, how could he compare to the wealthy scions who had been immersed in official social circles since childhood, exuding confidence and elegance?
In the overwhelmingly vast grounds of the Hanlin Academy, Xu Junzheng felt so embarrassed that he wanted to turn and flee. Just as he was at a loss, he recognized Xie Tanwei—his brother-in-law, his mentor.
He seized this lifeline and bowed deeply. “Master Xie.”
Xie Tanwei stopped him. “There’s no need for that.”
The other scholars cast envious and resentful glances at Xu Junzheng. Master Xie had actually taken on someone from such a humble background as his disciple this year.
Xu Junzheng was incredibly fortunate to have married a daughter of the Yu family, thus becoming Xie Tanwei’s brother-in-law by marriage and gaining a connection.
Xie Tanwei glanced at this brother-in-law, lost in thought. Here was a young man, proud and immersed in his fantasies, and it seemed almost a pity to drag him into the brutal vortex of imperial examination fraud.
“How has Tian’er been these days?”
Xu Junzheng was taken aback, not expecting Xie Tanwei to ask about Tian Qin first. Remembering that the two had always been close as brother-in-law and sister-in-law, he replied, “Tian Qin is well, busy embroidering her wedding dress. Yesterday afternoon, she had a bit of indigestion and rested in her boudoir, so I didn’t get to see her.”
Xie Tanwei gave a faint “hmm.” He had no right to ask Tian Qin directly, which was why he was inquiring through Xu Junzheng.
The words “boudoir” stung him. How intimate—Xu Junzheng was even privy to such private matters about her.
“Lazybones,” he scoffed coldly, though it was unclear whom he was referring to.
Xu Junzheng felt strange and somewhat sour. He was Tian Qin’s fiancé, yet he couldn’t seem to fit in. Everywhere, he felt the sting of exclusion, as if she and his brother-in-law were the real family, and his brother-in-law was the one closest to her, the one who understood her best.
Recalling the past, her smiles and words had always been directed at his brother-in-law. Every time she smiled, it was brighter than spring flowers in March. She had never smiled at him like that. When she said to his brother-in-law, “You must promote him more,” his brother-in-law had indeed promoted him more.
Xu Junzheng lost himself in his thoughts, his mind drifting.
Though his brother-in-law was not Tian Qin’s husband, he was an extremely important man in her life—so important that he seemed to surpass Xu Junzheng himself.
Apart from Tian Qin, Xie Tanwei and Xu Junzheng had nothing to say to each other. If forced to converse, they could only discuss identical exam papers or cheating accomplices.
Xu Junzheng could not truly get close to Xie Tanwei the way Tian Qin could. The latter kept others at a distance, treating him no differently from the other scholars.
Other scholars who witnessed this secretly mocked Xu Junzheng in their hearts. A pheasant will always remain a pheasant—even if it flies onto a branch, it can never become a phoenix. Trying to curry favor with Master Xie? He might as well practice for another hundred years.
Xu Junzheng felt disheartened. Even though he had achieved the title of Number One Scholar, he still could not integrate into the circles of the nobility.
…
This dynasty governed the realm through Confucianism. Official documents, imperial edicts, and even the emperor’s decrees had to be justified by citing Confucian classics, often prefaced with phrases like “Confucius said,” “the Book of Documents states,” or “the Duke of Zhou proclaimed.”
However, the Confucianism referred to here was not about self-restraint, ritual propriety, or pedantic literary embellishments. It solely emphasized the concept of the interaction between Heaven and mankind.
This so-called interaction meant that celestial phenomena corresponded to human affairs. Natural disasters such as floods, droughts, plagues, as well as omens like children’s rhymes, eclipses, or crows leaving their nests, were all interpreted as signs of the emperor’s moral failings.
While calamities and anomalies did not occur frequently, they could be artificially manufactured. The terrifying aspect of this Confucian theory was that it could accuse any emperor of moral failure without granting him any opportunity to refute the charges. To dispute the accusations would be to argue with Heaven itself—how could one command Heaven not to send floods or prevent the moon from being eclipsed?
If a single tile fell from the imperial tombs, it was seen as a warning from the ancestors. Confucianism had lost its original purity and degenerated into a tool for political strife.
As the leader of Confucian scholars, the nephew of the Taihuang Taihou, and the former Grand Commandant who once commanded massive armies, Xie Tanwei embodied the roles of imperial relative, sage, and Confucian master all at once. It was almost inevitable that he would become a target of widespread criticism. After all, besides the theory of interaction between Heaven and mankind, Confucianism also espoused the idea of the sage ascending to kingship. Xie Tanwei was precisely the kind of sage that appeared only once in a century.
Since the emperor’s ascension to the throne, he had favored officials of humble origins. Xie Tanwei, like a fish in water, was acutely aware of the shifting currents and had long sensed the ostracism and neglect directed at him.
In the recent case of imperial examination fraud, the emperor clung to the issue relentlessly, intending to use it as an opportunity to crush the prestige of the Xie Clan.
Three days had passed, and Xie Tanwei still had not provided Xu Junzheng’s name. Given his usual efficiency, this was highly unusual.
The emperor, his body frail and wracked by illness, coughed repeatedly as he thundered with rage, “I have heard that the Number One Scholar is the son-in-law of the Yu family. In that case, Minister Xie, are you deliberately showing favoritism?”
It was widely known that the second daughter of the Yu family was Xie Tanwei’s beloved wife. Such nepotism and underhanded dealings inevitably led to suspicions that the examination answers had been leaked. Otherwise, how could Xu Junzheng have produced an identical exam paper?
Xie Tanwei offered no explanation. He seemed resigned to his fate, as if life and death mattered little to him, and simply said, “I deserve death for my crime. May Your Majesty take care of your sacred health.”
The emperor’s fury burned even hotter, provoked not only by Xie Tanwei’s actions but also by his arrogant demeanor—in such dire circumstances, what other minister would not be groveling and begging for mercy?
Xie Tanwei voluntarily resigned from his position, admitted to the imperial examination fraud, and relinquished his title of Grand Commandant, which had long been stripped of real power.
In the end, out of consideration for the Taihuang Taihou, the emperor refrained from extreme measures. He did not strip Xie Tanwei of his noble rank but exiled him to his former territory—banishing him from the capital forever, never to return.
This move had been carefully calculated by the emperor for a long time. Finally, he had found a legitimate pretext to expel Xie Tanwei from the political arena—a misstep that Xie Tanwei himself had committed. The thorn in his side was at last removed.
“No one is permitted to plead on his behalf!” the emperor decreed to all officials.
At this point, Xie Tanwei’s political career had effectively come to an end. The thing he took the most pride in was now lost.
Court ministers were caught off guard. The Xie Clan, whose position had seemed as unshakable as Mount Tai just the day before, had suddenly crumbled like scattered sand.
It appeared that when the emperor decided to target someone, it was as effortless as lifting a finger. Even though the emperor was frail and ill, with his life often hanging by a thread, his authority remained absolute.
Colleagues wept as if their hearts would break, and many common people came spontaneously to see him off. These were not faction members, but people genuinely moved by Xie Tanwei’s radiant character over the years, feeling profound regret and sorrow from the bottom of their hearts.
Xie Tanwei himself remained unperturbed. All feasts must end, and with the emperor’s ostracism, the jealousy attracted by his prominence, and the court’s foul atmosphere, departure was inevitable. Better to leave with dignity—after all, this wasn’t his first memorial requesting retirement.
Yet before leaving, he still wished to see her one last time.
…
Over the years, Xie Tanwei’s integrity and brilliance had become so deeply rooted in public consciousness that when news of his involvement in imperial examination fraud and cheating spread, it echoed hollowly—no one believed it.
Even the victimized scholars themselves thought the court had erred—it must be a mistake. Master Xie was a sage—how could a sage harbor selfish motives? How could a sage commit fraud? The world had gone mad.
To question Xie Tanwei was not merely to question the man himself, but to challenge the spiritual pillar they had long relied upon for survival. When one’s spiritual foundation collapses, life becomes unbearable.
Thus, court officials submitted memorials in unison, filled with righteous indignation and unwavering conviction, speaking out boldly for Xie Tanwei and stirring up massive waves of dissent.
The emperor grew increasingly furious. Though he explicitly forbade intercessions, those stubborn ministers still risked execution by confronting him directly.
Seated upon the vermilion throne, the emperor’s reign was still young, his sickly frame failing to command full authority over the court. Officials formed cliques, paying him no heed whatsoever.
In the eyes of these courtiers, Xie Tanwei—who treated scholars with humility and respect—possessed a character far more ideal than the emperor’s, embodying greater potential to become a benevolent ruler of ancient virtue.
As Xie Tanwei prepared to depart the capital for the long term, his calm detachment toward worldly honors and disgraces, his graceful turn to leave—all appeared so effortlessly dignified.
The more he carried himself this way, the more admiration he inspired. Upon his retirement, numerous followers likewise requested to resign, willing to share his “exile to former territory,” causing severe shortages in court officials within a short span.
Public outcry grew even louder: Master Xie could never have committed fraud—he must have been framed by “treacherous ministers” like Qin Hui from operas. An aura of profound injustice permeated the mortal realm, with children and women alike weeping and crying out for justice, hoping their sage would return to court.
Xu Junzheng belatedly realized he had been entangled in the terrifying imperial examination fraud case, spared only through Master Xie’s intervention.
Master Xie truly was a bodhisattva of lifelong compassion! He shouldn’t have plagiarized Master Xie’s essays—he shouldn’t! When Tian Qin handed them to him, he should have resolutely refused!
Overwhelming shame drowned him like floodwaters. Xu Junzheng nearly suffocated, rushing through the night to Xie Residence, pounding loudly on the gate, begging just to see Xie Tanwei once—only to be mercilessly driven away by servants.
“I beg you, let me see Master Xie just once! Even one glance! Otherwise I’d rather kneel here forever!”
“His Lordship will soon depart the capital. He is receiving no one.”
The plaque of Xie Residence had been removed. In the pitch-black night, several cargo wagons stood by the gate, desolate and bleak, exuding the dusty, cobwebbed emptiness of an abandoned home.
So majestic was the Xie Clan, yet its collapse came in but an instant.
Xu Junzheng’s breath caught in agony, tears streaming down his face. How could he ever repay Master Xie’s life-saving grace?
He was the one who copied the essays. He was the one.
And yet… he had caused Master Xie’s downfall… Xie Tanwei, truly a moral exemplar, would rather see his entire clan exiled to the former territory than expose him.
Overwhelmed by violent emotional swings, Xu Junzheng fainted and was dragged home by his mother, Xu Mu, who rushed to his side.
By now, Xu Mu too had realized her son’s title of Number One Scholar was dishonorably obtained, fearing he might bring disaster upon himself in a moment of impulsiveness.
In the Yu residence, Yu Yuan never expected that someone as upright as Xie Tanwei would be implicated in imperial examination fraud.
Had Xie Tanwei truly shown favoritism toward Xu Junzheng?
There was no reason for him to leak exam questions to Xu Junzheng, nor any grounds to assist him. The two had been complete strangers before. If anything, because of Tian Qin, they were vaguely romantic rivals.
This matter was far from straightforward—Xie Tanwei had likely been framed. To think even he could one day stumble into a trap.
While inwardly shocked, Yu Yuan secretly congratulated himself on his foresight. Having long known the Emperor would not tolerate Xie Tanwei, he had wisely avoided deep entanglement with him.
Now, the Xie Clan had collapsed like a tree sending monkeys scattering.
Ku Ju would certainly not marry into it anymore—a daughter wasted in vain. Yu Yuan intended to keep Xianqiu at home, pressuring her to divorce Xie Tanwei. When disaster struck, each should flee separately; otherwise, she would be exiled alongside him to that remote former territory, with no hope of return.
Unexpectedly, the usually gentle Xianqiu refused without hesitation, her resolve firm as iron.
“Father, when our Yu family was living away from home, my husband never looked down on me and stood by me all these years. Now, I cannot be ungrateful and abandon him. Through life or death, through any storm, I will share weal and woe with my husband.”
Furious, Yu Yuan scolded, “Fool! Ungrateful daughter! Do you realize Xie Tanwei can never return to the capital? Instead of enjoying a comfortable life here, you insist on suffering in that impoverished backwater!”
Naturally, Tian Qin also heard the rumors about the Xie Clan.
Xie Tanwei had actually been exiled to the former territory.
Was it true…?
Anxious, she dared not believe it, nor would she. How could a man who once calmly orchestrated an entire murder scheme suddenly grow a conscience? How could a powerful minister who had outmaneuvered his sovereign and stood firm in court for years suddenly fall from grace? How could someone as cunning and precise as a skilled archer suddenly become helpless, allowing others to bully him?
She was the one who had secretly given the answers to Xu Junzheng. Xie Tanwei knew it perfectly well—he could have exposed them outright. Though he had threatened Xu Junzheng’s life, in the end, he had taken the fall.
A sharp tongue but a soft heart? Absolutely impossible.
A gentle tongue but a ruthless heart—that seemed far more likely.
Step by step, he retreated, even at the cost of his career. What scheme was he really plotting?
It couldn’t be out of a guilty conscience, nor repentance, nor was he the type to be frightened into submission by charges of fraud.
There was only one explanation—this course of action benefited him, earning him leverage to exchange for something he desired.
Tian Qin felt a faint headache coming on. Her opponent, elusive in the shadows, was too sinister, leaving her trapped and unsure how to counter.
…
Overnight, Xie Tanwei went from a respected powerful minister to a disgraced, neglected politician. Marrying him as a concubine, once a coveted opportunity, had now become a pitiable misfortune.
Ku Ju had slashed her own face to steal Tian Qin’s marriage, only to outsmart herself and reap what she sowed. Tian Qin, who married a poor scholar, now rose steadily, while Ku Ju’s scheme to marry her brother-in-law had failed.
Before the wedding, as was customary, Tian Qin and Ku Ju shared a bed. Ku Ju lay weeping into her pillow.
Because of Xie Tanwei’s demotion, Yu Yuan had postponed her marriage indefinitely, unsure where he would next trade her damaged self, and even considered forcing her second sister to divorce.
Tian Qin offered a few perfunctory words of comfort, though her own heart was unsettled. With so many recent upheavals, not only was Ku Ju affected, but her own marriage might not proceed smoothly either—especially since she had offended Xie Tanwei.
Had Xie Tanwei really left just like that?
If he were to confess that Xu Junzheng had copied answers during the imperial examination, Xu Junzheng would likely face severe consequences.
Not to mention marriage, even his head might be hard to keep. And she, the young woman who stole the exam papers, would also be held accountable.
Tian Qin had finally obtained the marriage she had longed for, yet she remained despondent. Dark clouds loomed overhead, blotting out the sun, as if a relentless, chilling drizzle was falling, making it impossible for her to feel any joy.
She prayed to the heavens for protection, hoping to safely pass through this ordeal.
That day, when Xu Junzheng failed to gain an audience with Xie Tanwei, he fainted. Upon waking, he struggled to rise from his sickbed and, disregarding Xu Mu’s advice, insisted on kneeling outside the gates of Xie Manor, refusing to leave.
If Xie Tanwei still refused to see him, he would take the exam papers to the examination hall and confess the details of his fraud. He would rather lose his own head than allow his teacher to bear the blame unjustly.
For a scholar, integrity is paramount. If his teacher were demoted because of this while he himself rose through the ranks, enduring the scorn and disdain of his peers, then such an official position would be better left unfilled.
Xu Junzheng’s kneeling attracted a crowd of onlookers, who pointed and whispered, most of them cursing him as despicable and shameless—a villain who plagiarized essays and harmed the loyal and virtuous, whose crimes were too numerous to record.
Tears welled up in Xu Junzheng’s eyes, his heart aching with shame.
Finally, the heavy gates of Xie Manor creaked open. The elegant and refined decor of the residence remained unchanged, with various literary curios and calligraphy still in place. Xie Tanwei had packed only a few personal belongings, leaving with clean hands.
Xu Junzheng was in awe of the layout of Xie Residence. Tense and nervous, he was served hot tea by a servant and nearly scalded his fingers. His voice hoarse and stumbling, he stammered, “Teacher Xie, about the exam papers, I…”
Xie Tanwei gently blew on the floating tea leaves in his cup and said, “I was suffering from a hangover that day and was unable to receive you. I hope you will forgive me.”
He habitually maintained a distant and respectful attitude toward everyone, elusive as mist, making it difficult for others to discern his thoughts.
Faced with Xie Tanwei’s imposing presence, Xu Junzheng felt constrained and awkward, completely out of his depth.
Xu Junzheng was utterly ashamed. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know why the essay… turned out exactly the same. I had no idea.”
Xie Tanwei listened quietly.
“Sister Tian gave me a notebook with exquisitely written essays in her handwriting. At the time, I thought the answers were exceptionally well-written, but I didn’t know they were yours.”
Xu Junzheng struggled to find the right words. The more vague he was, the more it seemed like he was lying. After rambling about irrelevant matters, he finally gritted his teeth and resolved, “I will turn myself in. I will go to the examination hall and confess to the fraud. I will not implicate you.”
Xie Tanwei stopped him, his tone cool yet firm. “If you do that, Tian’er will also end up in prison. According to what you said, it was Tian who leaked the exam papers.”
“Sister Tian doesn’t care.” Xu Junzheng’s rationality had derailed, and large tears streamed down his face, his voice choked with desperation. “Since Sister Tian chose me, she is also an upright and honorable person. At worst, we can go to prison together as husband and wife.”
“Doesn’t care? Doesn’t she care about losing her head?”
Xie Tanwei’s calm, profound eyes were like cold markings on a ruler, and he asked unhurriedly, “Do you think imperial examination fraud is as simple as going to prison? Even if it were just imprisonment, for a young woman to enter a prison is an immense ordeal and disgrace, something she would never live down.”
Xu Junzheng’s heart sank, and he was left speechless.
Losing one’s head—it was that severe.
Once again, he was being theoretical. He was an honest scholar who had never been to prison and had no idea about the filth and corruption of the judicial system.
He cannot die, nor can Sweet Sister die. He is the only son in the family—if he dies, who will care for his mother? Being beheaded by an executioner before everyone’s eyes is worse than ending his own life.
Xu Junzheng fell into a helpless state of collapse, his hands hanging limply as he sobbed quietly.
The darkness of officialdom far exceeded his imagination a thousand times over. As a newly emerged scholar, he felt deeply weak and powerless.
“Perhaps my little sister was just being playful and casually took my calligraphy, which you happened to see by chance. It was my fault for not keeping a close watch.”
Xie Tanwei took a light sip of tea and said, “I will handle this matter. Do not interfere.”
By saying this, Xie Tanwei had taken the blame for leaking the exam questions upon himself. The matter was thus concluded—no further investigation would follow.
Xu Junzheng grew even more consumed by guilt, so much so that he wished he could die. He buried his head deeply, almost sinking into the dust, unable to face Xie Tanwei.
Tian Qin, truly an imprudent young maiden confined to the inner chambers, had frivolously given him such an important exam topic, nearly causing his ruin, the confiscation of his family’s property, and even implicating Teacher Xie…
Fortunately, he had encountered Teacher Xie—the kindest Confucian scholar under heaven, a sage with a bodhisattva’s heart, perhaps even a reincarnation of a bodhisattva.
“Teacher Xie, rest assured, I will do everything in my power to plead your case in the future, hoping His Majesty will reconsider and restore you!”
This was the only form of repayment Xu Junzheng could conceive—his words feeble and inadequate, yet they could not obscure his resolve.
Xie Tanwei offered a faint, wisp-like smile. “That won’t be necessary. If Young Master Xu truly feels remorseful, then grant me one request.”
Xu Junzheng immediately vowed, declaring there was nothing he would not agree to.
“Break off the engagement. Do not marry Tian Qin.”
Xie Tanwei continued, “May I ask this of you in exchange?”
Xu Junzheng was stunned, never expecting such a condition. “Why? Does the teacher disapprove of this marriage? Sister Tian is a wonderful person. Please do not hold the exam incident against her.”
“Not that it’s undesirable, but it’s unsuitable.” Xie Tanwei offered no further explanation and stated plainly, “Calling off the engagement would be best for everyone.”
His words were as sparse as a meticulous brush painting, yet they carried an absolute plea—a command from one in authority.
Xu Junzheng owed a debt; breaking the engagement would repay it. Only when debts were settled could the scales balance, and relationships endure in harmony.
But Xu Junzheng, deeply entrenched in this ill-fated affection, was in agony. He could not agree to his benefactor’s request.
Why, of all things, must he abandon Sister Tian?
The betrothal gifts had been presented, the marriage contracts exchanged—they were as good as husband and wife. He could not be fickle.
Sister Tian awaited the union with such anticipation; only a grand procession with eight bridal sedan chairs to welcome her into his household could repay her profound affection.
“Teacher, is there no other alternative?”
Xu Junzheng frowned, crestfallen, too timid to refuse outright yet utterly incapable of consenting.
Perhaps it would be better to confess to cheating at the examination hall—spare himself the agony of abandoning Sister Tian and the overwhelming debt of gratitude to his teacher.
Sister Tian’s marriage was not something to be bargained with.
“I cannot forsake Sister Tian. I am willing to serve the teacher like an ox or a horse to repay you, but I will not betray Sister Tian’s heartfelt devotion.”
Torn and distressed, Xu Junzheng shed tears freely, trapped in a dilemma. Suddenly, he recalled the unspoken glances, postures, and smiles exchanged between Tian Qin and her brother-in-law. Could there be intricate connections behind her brother-in-law’s opposition to the marriage now?
Xu Junzheng dared not dwell on it further.
They were brother-in-law and sister, after all.
Seeing this, Xie Tanwei understood clearly that the other would not yield—he wanted to have his cake and eat it too.
His efforts had been in vain. Even baring his heart and soul, risking exposure of the imperial examination fraud, and offering the utmost benefit he could provide had failed to secure the outcome he desired.
Human nature was so fickle—others reaped all the benefits yet refused to give an inch. He had been a scapegoat for nothing.
As Xu Junzheng continued to mutter guiltily to himself, Xie Tanwei lost all interest and rose to leave.
If he were to win Tian Qin back, it would have to be by her own choice.
The political turmoil in the imperial court had not affected the Yu residence in the slightest. Dragonflies hovered over the rippling water surface, while several pigeons perched on the roof ridge to rest. Dappled sunlight filtered through the summer foliage.
The same tranquility prevailed in the Xu residence, where Xu Junzheng, implicated in imperial examination fraud, lived in a peace so unnerving it stirred anxiety.
Yu Yuan had been observing whether the Xu family would face repercussions. Seeing the situation remain stable, he confidently proceeded with arranging a marriage alliance between the two families.
The only tragic departure was that of Xie Tanwei, the former most powerful minister. Stripped of his official position and reputation, he was ordered into exile to former territory.
Xianqiu, as his wife, remained steadfastly by his side, unwavering in her devotion, willing to accompany Xie Tanwei into exile.
Xu Junzheng had succeeded in his fraud, replacing the original author to become the official laureate of the examination essays.
Xu Junzheng transformed from perpetrator to victim of fraud when Xie Tanwei copied his “Number One Scholar examination paper” verbatim. Such dereliction of duty naturally warranted the severe punishment of demotion.
Though Xu Junzheng had engaged in identity theft, the officialdom operated on the principle of thieves falling out—all were villains, with none remaining innocent.
The curtain fell.
Everything had come to an end.
An afternoon rain suddenly began to fall. Thick, gloomy rain clouds painted the sky a somber gray, silencing the cicadas’ chorus.
Tian Qin sat beneath the corridor holding a jade-ribbed round fan, watching the rain. The cold wind carried droplets that refreshed the spirit with unusual clarity.
Xie Tanwei quietly watched the rain beside her. The unpredictability of life meant this might be their final meeting in this lifetime.
His pale, elegant hand with jade-smooth knuckles rested beside her. She knew these were the hands most skilled at writing in the world—others might copy him, but he would never copy anyone.
When he guided her hand in writing, the characters flowed with ethereal grace, dancing like soaring dragons, much like his beautiful hand bones themselves.
“Once when I sprained my ankle, Brother-in-law carried me back in the rain,” she said, her gaze fixed on the white foam splashing from raindrops hitting the blue bricks. Her round fan had absorbed moisture, blooming a small dark pattern. “My spring robes got soaked, and your brows and eyes were damp like an ink wash painting.”
“I secretly rested my chin on your shoulder, though I knew you disliked it—your shoulders belonged only to elder sister.”
Xie Tanwei continued, “I felt an itch on my shoulder then, knowing it wasn’t the rain but you. Even with a sprained ankle, you refused to discard the pebble that made you slip, saying it was the exact hue I liked, perfect for decorating the fish tank by the study door.”
His expression softened with profound tenderness, tinged with the duck-egg blue of the sky. “You said you’d never seen duck-egg blue pebbles before, that they resembled the pigments in my study for painting, and that you wanted to learn painting someday.”
“It was just a passing fancy—I’m actually quite clumsy. Brother-in-law preferred spending time with elder sister and couldn’t be bothered wasting good pigments to teach me.”
Tian Qin’s sigh dissolved into the rain. She turned to ask, “Did you ever use that pebble, Brother-in-law?”
“I did.”
Xie Tanwei’s voice blended with nostalgia. “I arranged them one by one in the fish tank, startling two fish and splashing water all over my sleeves. Later, thinking they were too far away, I moved them to my desk, dipping them in duck-egg blue pigment while painting.”
But all that happened after her illness and passing. Occasionally, returning from her gravesite, he would bring a branch or two of the peach blossoms she loved.
“When I had people search for similar pebbles later, none could ever match the one you found.”
Tian Qin seemed to smile faintly, her pupils glistening, but she spoke no more. The grievances of two lifetimes dissolved completely in this moment, vanishing like mist in the cold, overcast rain.
Xie Tanwei turned his head, gazing fixedly at her. After their separation, she had donned fresh lotus-colored garments and styled her hair in a married woman’s coiffure—a bride awaiting her wedding. Everything familiar had transformed, leaving her in a world entirely separate from his, so alien it felt surreal.
He stood so near yet remained impossibly distant. When he touched her cheek, it was as if brushing against emptiness, separated by an impenetrable veil—she was already promised to another man.
“Brother-in-law is being exiled to the former territory, soon to depart,” she broke the silence. “Second Sister mentioned she’s leaving too.”
Xie Tanwei hummed in acknowledgment. “Is Little Sister happy?”
She pouted gloomily. “Why should I be happy?”
“After I leave, barred from the capital without imperial decree, you’ll be free to marry whomever you please.”
He brushed his knuckles against her rain-chilled cheek, his tone conciliatory. “This is my final visit to Third Sister.”
Tian Qin avoided his touch, shielding herself with a round fan. “In the past, this would have delighted me. Now, I’m still glad—but not as much.”
“Why?”
“Because Brother-in-law helped me.”
She lifted her slender neck like a lotus stem, her delicate skin glowing softly in the gloomy light. “Brother-in-law bore the disgrace of examination fraud to spare me imprisonment and saved Xu Junzheng. Sharp-tongued yet soft-hearted—you’re truly a good man. I’m grateful.”
Xie Tanwei said, “I feared Little Sister might take drastic measures. The scissors that day frightened me.”
“When you saved me from the avalanche before, you asked for nothing in return. If you refuse compensation again, I’d grow anxious.”
She spoke earnestly, meeting his eyes directly. To sever ties completely this time, she insisted he accept repayment—for nothing in this world comes without cost.
“Name your price,” she urged. Short of becoming his concubine, she would grant any reasonable request.
Puddles rippled as raindrops traced the eaves. After a silence, Xie Tanwei responded, “Then grant me a favor.”
A favor. Tian Qin struggled to comprehend the term.
“Grant me your forgiveness,” he said.
The debt he owed her stemmed from their past life—but those wounds were unforgivable, scars that could never fade.
Tian Qin needed no atonement, no guilt from him—only clear boundaries and a clean break.
“For the sake of my meaningless forgiveness, you’d sacrifice your official career?”
“Mm, sacrificed.”
Xie Tanwei’s casual delivery carried a terrifying, understated madness. “If that doesn’t satisfy you, I can suffer more. After all, I wronged you in our past life.”
“My forgiveness holds little weight.” Tian Qin’s heart remained hardened as she deflected. “With your exile approaching, we’ll rarely meet again in this lifetime. I’m but a passerby in your existence.”
His robes were the lonely hue of misty grey, detached from the world and pure in appearance. Hypocrisy veiled his true nature—a serpent cannot shed its fangs, only conceal them temporarily, its venom still coursing beneath the skin.
Veiled in dreary rainfall, Xie Tanwei sighed languidly. “So Little Sister hasn’t forgiven me yet.”
She lowered her brows. “Don’t speak of this further.”
Their past life was a scar barely healed—the slightest touch would make it bleed anew.
Xie Tanwei watched the rain patter like silkworms devouring mulberry leaves, trickling into cobblestone crevices. The dappled light blurred in the mist—not rain, but endless regret.
“You no longer hold my involvement with Xu Junzheng against me?”
After a long pause, Tian Qin asked.
Xie Tanwei smiled sympathetically, appearing understanding. “I do mind. But what’s done is done—this outcome is beyond human intervention. The marriage contract is settled by parental decree. Younger Sister may be unwilling, but she cannot defy it.”
Tian Qin felt unease rising within her. “Brother-in-law is lying.”
His intervention could clearly change things. Even she knew that if they firmly accused Xu Junzheng of cheating, the situation could be reversed. She could be pulled back to become a concubine, and he wouldn’t have to drag his entire family into exile to the former territory.
There were too many ways to prove cheating—having them compose essays on the spot with time limits, or circulating the examination papers among civil and military officials to demonstrate the writing style had always been his…
Yet Xie Tanwei never fought back.
“That day, Brother-in-law even urged me to expose Xu Junzheng, immediately devising a thorough countermeasure.”
“I admired Brother-in-law’s ruthlessness at the time, never expecting you would later sink like a stone without a trace, unjustly bearing the accusation of fraud. Younger Sister cannot help but doubt your motives.”
“But you refused, didn’t you? Without your accusation, my strategy was worthless.”
Xie Tanwei spoke with feigned sincerity, “If I didn’t bear this, Xu Junzheng would have to. His death wouldn’t be regrettable, but the problem is it would implicate Younger Sister and expose your leaking of the exam questions. Then Younger Sister would inevitably face imprisonment. Neither your sister nor I could bear that, so we’d rather bear the exile and demotion ourselves.”
“Moreover, I share responsibility for the leaked questions. It was my negligence to have taught Younger Sister the answers—I deserve punishment.”
His explanation sounded perfectly reasonable.
Tian Qin absolutely couldn’t believe his gentle words. Their previous life together had long revealed his true nature to her.
He didn’t even care whether she lived or died—why would he fear her imprisonment? He hadn’t even spared her corpse—ten of him combined wouldn’t amount to a shred of compassion.
Her eyes burned like red-hot needles fixed on him. “Brother-in-law, Younger Sister doesn’t believe this. Tell me what you truly want.”
Even if he said he wanted her body, she would feel slightly more at ease.
Under her scrutinizing gaze, Xie Tanwei’s eyes resembled the clear sky of early spring, carrying a slight chill as he enunciated each word: “I’ve already said—I seek a favor, Younger Sister’s forgiveness, and improvement in how Younger Sister views her brother-in-law.”
Tian Qin fell silent.
In a rare moment of considering her perspective, Xie Tanwei added two more explanations: “Younger Sister meticulously planned for so long to arrange this marriage exchange—it must have been exhausting. The Yu family wants to win over the newly powerful, and Younger Sister must contribute to the family in some way, being partly coerced.”
“I was initially somewhat angry, but after understanding the circumstances, my anger subsided. I sympathize with Younger Sister’s difficulties and won’t blame you.”
“Therefore, I only seek a favor, only seek Younger Sister’s forgiveness.”
Tian Qin repeatedly pondered every word of his speech—elusive and hard to grasp, superficially magnanimous yet concealing some trap.
“Brother-in-law Xie…” she probed, perhaps truly running out of arguments, her rosebud lips moving along his line of thought.
Xie Tanwei asked: “Is Younger Sister willing to forgive me?”
His demeanor was as calm as a gentle breeze and flowing water, upright and principled, pure as ice and snow, so affectionately sincere that it was hard not to be deceived by appearances. These words of forgiveness were what he had exchanged for his lifetime reputation and official career.
“I forgive Brother-in-law.” Tian Qin forced out helplessly, exhaling a long breath. “I hope Brother-in-law’s exile proceeds smoothly, that you find a new home in your new location.”
In their previous life, he had treated her as dispensable, showing little concern, mostly maintaining the indifference of strangers.
Perhaps it was only because she had suddenly married another in this lifetime that he pursued her relentlessly as if possessed by an obsession. Once this passion faded, he would let go.
Xie Tanwei paused, his dark eyes glimmering with a faint, cold light. He said with relief, “I’m glad you’re willing to say these words to me.”
Perhaps his efforts over the past days had borne fruit—the thin ice between them cracked and splintered, revealing a fissure.
Tian Qin avoided his gaze as much as possible, hinting subtly, “Tian Qin feels the same. It’s a regret that I cannot serve my sister and brother-in-law in this life. I can only repay their kindness in the next.”
The summer rain grew heavier, the curtain of rain like a transparent, blurred barrier that isolated them from the outside world, trapping them in the narrow corridor.
With his unique tenderness and a dampness that seemed to carry the rain’s essence, Xie Tanwei slowly wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Tian Qin did not refuse this time, yielding to his gentle pressure as she buried her face in his chest.
Their clothes brushed against each other, their breaths intertwined, and his lips hovered near hers, tentative and lingering—a tender, sorrowful embrace.
Wasn’t this the last time? From now on, they would be separated by vast distances, never to meet again in this lifetime, their remaining years steeped in memories and regrets.
Their situation was like that of lovers torn apart by the world’s cruelty—a poignant, heart-wrenching farewell filled with unspoken affection.
“Tian’er.”
Xie Tanwei leaned close to her ear, his voice soft and slow, like ink spreading on rice paper:
“Let’s elope.”
Author’s Note: Here it is! The next chapter will still be updated at midnight.
These past few days have been a bit unusual, so updates have been later. Sorry for keeping those of you staying up late waiting! After this period, we’ll return to the usual 6 p.m. update time.
Also, here’s a preview of my recent work, Half a Page of Spring:
During the years Caiyin served the eldest young master of the Duke’s estate, she had once overestimated her own worth and dreamed of staying by his side forever.
The eldest young master, Xie Ji, was elegant and refined, admired by all.
She was the only chamber maid the old madam had placed by his side—adding fragrance to his sleeves by day, warming his bed by night, tender and affectionate, gentle and considerate.
The younger maids all looked at her with envy, believing she was destined to become a mistress.
But once a principal wife was chosen, Xie Ji tossed her deed of servitude and a sum of money before her.
“I will not take a concubine—this is what I promised my new wife.”
“After kneeling to welcome the madam at tomorrow’s wedding banquet, take this money and leave. It will be enough to support you for a lifetime.”
“Don’t go too far. Stay in the capital, so it will be easier for me to look after you.”
“I will arrange a good marriage for you. If he treats you poorly, you may return to the estate.”
In the end, Caiyin married Chen Ju, a man of similar status.
Chen Ju was a tenant farmer, honest and hardworking, a reliable laborer who treated her well.
On the third day of their marriage, she returned with her husband to express gratitude to her former master.
Under the clear, radiant autumn light, Caiyin bowed gracefully, her lips subtly red and restrained: “Young Master.”
In that instant, Xie Ji’s ordinarily steady breath faltered.
When Chen Ju’s wife went missing, the entire city searched in vain.
In a dimly lit room, Caiyin awoke groggily, the cold, dark chain around her ankle glinting faintly.
Xie Ji pressed her down beneath him, gripping her chain, his presence as dark as the night.
She was his, and no one could take her away.
The male lead’s name may change; this is a temporary placeholder.
A story of regret and redemption, with themes of forced possession and power struggles.
*Both characters are chaste until marriage.
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