“Oh?” He Shi said, “What makes you say that?”
“Although Tian Qin usually has a low alcohol tolerance, she’s not the type to collapse after just one sip. When I went to check on her earlier, her cheeks were flushed but her eyes were clear and bright, like a little fox. She was still fully conscious.”
He Shi snorted coldly: “This Illegitimate Daughter certainly has her tricks. If she’s truly chosen, she won’t have the option to refuse.”
Xianqiu sighed with a faint smile, holding onto He Shi’s arm: “Mother, please don’t say that. Tian Qin is close with the Private Tutor in our residence and already has someone in her heart. She doesn’t wish to come to the estate to be by my side as her elder sister.”
After a pause, she added: “Moreover, Tian Qin’s behavior precisely proves she has no improper ambitions.”
He Shi seemed to want to say more but held back, lowering her voice: “Xian’er, Mother knows your husband treats you well, and you two are a harmonious couple who don’t want a third person interfering. But you must think clearly about your condition. If not forced by circumstances, who would want to take this step?”
A trace of sorrow instantly appeared in Xianqiu’s gentle features. Covering her chest as she coughed twice, she thought – what did it matter how deeply affectionate she and her husband were? She was born a stone maiden, unable to consummate their marriage. After all these years of marriage, she had never experienced the joys of marital intimacy.
Back then, the Yu family had deliberately concealed this fact just to cling to the powerful Xie Family tree. Fortunately, the Xie gentleman was understanding – when the truth came out, he never became angry nor sought divorce, still treating her with mutual respect.
She could be ill, but the Xie Family could not be without heirs.
Recently, the head of the Xie Family’s political career had been flourishing, attracting swarms of admirers like bees to honey. If the Yu family didn’t arrange for a concubine themselves, outsiders would surely seize the opportunity.
“Whether it’s Tian Qin or Ku Ju, they’re both our own family’s Illegitimate Daughters – with weak foundations and easy to control. They’re far better than some unknown noble concubine forced upon us from outside. Xian’er, Mother doesn’t want you to drown in trivial romantic feelings and make foolish mistakes at this critical moment.”
Xianqiu softly acknowledged: “Your daughter naturally understands. But my husband treats others indifferently, showing warmth only to me. I’m afraid he won’t take a liking to either younger sister.”
He Shi said: “Your husband, having read Confucian classics extensively, is good-tempered – praised by the entire court as a model of perfect cultivation. He won’t actively take a concubine. As the Zhumu, you must make the decision for him. Your illness can be treated slowly – the urgent matter now is to secure a legitimate eldest child.”
Xianqiu slowly nodded.
He Shi’s words sounded harsh, but it essentially meant selecting a breeding tool – anyone would do, suitability was what mattered most.
Ku Ju was young, inherently timid and meek, with ordinary looks, but she had that meddlesome biological mother Yao Yiniang.
Tian Qin was more ideal – obedient, sweet, beautiful, and fertile, with her birth mother long deceased, though she had been making eyes at the residence’s Private Tutor.
He Shi comforted: “Both younger sisters have their pros and cons. Just choose from your perspective. If Tian Qin dares to engage in improper relations with the Private Tutor, Mother has ways to deal with her.”
Xianqiu forced a smile: “We’re already wronging Tian Qin. Pushing her too hard wouldn’t be good.”
He Shi frowned, often feeling that not only was her daughter physically weak, but her heart had also been weakened by illness.
Her naive and pure-hearted appearance – she had been too well protected by the Yu family and her husband, completely unaware of how wicked people could be.
The more pure-hearted she was, the more important it was to keep noble concubines from outside from entering their household.
During Emperor Cheng’s reign, the Yu family had been demoted and lived in exile, marginalized from the centers of power. To return to the capital, they had desperately curried favor with the Xindu Marquis, the head of the Xie Family, marrying their daughter into the Xie Family.
Now that the new emperor had ascended the throne, the Yu family had smoothly returned to the capital. With their eldest daughter Suanzhi honored as Empress, the Yu family had become genuine imperial in-laws of the central court, no longer needing the Xie Family’s support. Instead, the Xie Family now had to curry favor with the Yu family.
“Now that Suanzhi has been honored as Empress, your own elder sister by birth, what is there left to fear?”
He Shi worried her daughter might become constrained—with each new reign comes new ministers, and the Xie Family, as imperial in-laws of the previous dynasty, ought to withdraw from the scene.
“Even if you were to seek a separation from the Xie Family, it would be permissible.”
Xianqiu immediately grew displeased, her face appearing even paler under the moonlight: “Mother, my husband and I have weathered storms together for years and have never had a conflict. Back then, when we deceived him into marriage, he did not hold it against me. He has been considerate and cared for my ailing body—how could I now burn the bridge after crossing it by proposing a separation? Even if my husband were to drive me away, I would not leave.”
She nervously glanced around, relieved that no one had overheard.
He Shi sighed helplessly; her daughter was deeply devoted. She could only say, “Very well, I won’t bring this up again. You must decide for yourself.”
The sky was as dark as ink, the feast had long gone cold, and it was time for He Shi to return to her chamber to rest. Filled with sorrow and a sense of loss, Xianqiu sat alone for a long while in the chilly breeze and cold moonlight before finally retiring.
…
At dawn, mist hung thickly, with only one or two large stars faintly visible.
The ink-blue darkness of early morning seeped through the window lattice; the Xie Residence was still silent, a lone lamp glowing amidst the shifting shadows.
Xianqiu brought breakfast with her maid, paused at the door, took a deep breath to smooth her disheveled hair, and then knocked.
“Enter.”
Hearing his voice, she stepped inside, instructing the maid to wait outside. She approached the man and skillfully helped him dress and fasten his robes.
The window was open, allowing the morning breeze to circulate.
Faint sunlight cast a few damp, misty traces on the paper window, lending a touch of spring chill to the atmosphere.
Xie Tanwei gently brushed Xianqiu’s cheek. “Since we’ve been sleeping separately, I said there’s no need for you to come so early.”
Feeling the warmth of his palm, Xianqiu was momentarily dazed. They had been living apart since she began her treatment, yet she couldn’t resist coming each morning to attend to him, fulfilling her duties as a wife.
She adored his towering presence, his gentleness, his understanding, his saintly integrity, his appearance—he was beyond compare with the other frivolous young men of the Xie Family.
“It’s not far,” she said. “You are the one who works hard, handling official duties every day and attending court before dawn.”
He replied, “There’s little to do today; I should return by noon. Later, pick a leaf or two from the deep wisteria in the backyard to brew tea.”
She lingered, “Would you allow me a sip as well?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
Xianqiu treasured these small, everyday gestures of tenderness.
“About last night’s feast… my two younger sisters are still young and it was their first time attending. I hope you’ll be understanding.”
Xie Tanwei said, “Your sisters were both very well-behaved.”
Xianqiu hesitated, wanting to ask, “Which of my sisters did you favor?” But a sharp pain clenched her heart, and she held back the words.
A light, chilly spring breeze brushed past Xie Tanwei, and he called for the window to be closed. “Did you have something to say to me, my lady?”
Xianqiu’s heart skipped a beat. “You already know?”
His tone was lighter than the spring sun. “Is it not about the separation?”
Xianqiu hadn’t expected her mother’s careless words from the previous night to reach his ears. The Xie Residence truly had eyes and ears everywhere.
“No, my lord, it’s not that,” she frowned, her heart turning cold. “You’ve heard idle gossip?”
He hummed in acknowledgment, not denying it.
“Mother was speaking nonsense—she had too much to drink last night. I refused her outright. Please don’t take it to heart.”
Her eyes glistened slightly with moisture. “How could I ever want to separate from you?”
Xie Tanwei did not evade the issue and said earnestly, “Ours was a political marriage from the start. Now, a separation is possible.”
The Xie family had become a thing of the past. With the new emperor’s ascension came new imperial in-laws, and it was time for the Xie family to step aside and make way for worthy successors.
He had previously resigned from his official post twice at the command of the Taihuang Taihou, but the young new emperor had rejected his requests.
Xianqiu silently blamed He Shi for her inappropriate words the previous night countless times, offering many apologetic smiles and assurances that neither she nor the Yu family were the type to burn bridges after crossing them.
Her husband was the epitome of a gentleman among gentlemen—how could he ever force his wife to do anything “against her will”? If his wife wished to abandon her humble spouse to seek better prospects, he would graciously acquiesce.
“Husband, do you dislike me for being unable to bear children?”
By the end of her plea, she infused her tone with a hint of grievance, carefully maintaining her frail and ailing demeanor. “If so, Xianqiu can voluntarily request to leave the household.”
Xie Tanwei responded with gentle coldness: “Nothing of the sort.”
He had merely mentioned it in passing—a harmless remark.
The carriage was ready, and after bidding farewell, he departed.
Xianqiu privately fretted. He was always like this—shrouded in a thin layer of winter mist, making it impossible to discern his true thoughts.
Every word seemed laden with meaning, yet at the same time, it might just be ordinary marital conversation, utterly devoid of significance.
Distracted by these matters, she hadn’t found the chance to ask earlier: if he were to take a concubine, would he prefer Ku Ju or Tian Qin?
Though asking would be futile—he showed no interest in women. Concubines were merely tools for bearing children; sweet or bitter made no difference to him.
…
In the dim chamber, Tian Qin clutched the bedsheet in distress, her clothes in tatters, stifling fragmented cries between her teeth.
The man gripped her waist, pressing her down, his nightmarish whispers dutifully instructing her by her ear.
“Brother-in-law, I beg you, don’t…”
Tears streamed down her face as a golden bell at her ankle chimed softly, lighter than the breeze rustling through the bamboo grove outside.
He was gentle, like crushed flower stems, and smiled, but it was cold. “Don’t cry. How else are we to have a daughter?”
Tian Qin jolted awake.
Her face was pale with shock, eyes wide and round.
Such a vivid nightmare. The sensation of him pinching her soft, chubby cheeks seemed to linger on her skin.
Gasping for air, she touched her face—it still hurt.
Who could have known the true nature of the head of the Xie family?
He remembered his wife’s dislike for sour foods, cared about the ailments of the elderly mother of a young servant, defended maligned maids, and exposed imperial examination fraud to restore dignity to countless scholars.
But would a man of impeccable morals, to prove his loyalty to his wife, force his former lover to her death? Would he tenderly comfort his wife only to then force himself upon her younger sister?
Would he force-feed his sister-in-law a spoonful of Qing Gu, alternating coercion and persuasion, reducing her to a prisoner bound by a golden bell?
Would he compel his sister-in-law to become his concubine, discard her after sating his desires, stand by as her beloved maid was falsely accused, and watch her bleed to death?
A trail of bloody tears slowly traced its way to her temple. Tian Qin closed her eyes, feeling as though a drill were boring into her skull.
The past was too painful to revisit.
Zhao Lu and Wan Cui pushed the door open and entered, finding Tian Qin drenched in a cold sweat, her face as pale as paper. They hurried over to inquire.
Wan Cui said, “Just now, Xie Tanwei’s wife asked how you were doing, whether last night’s drunkenness had subsided, and insisted on calling a physician.”
Tian Qin gradually collected herself, struggling to shake off the nightmare, and murmured, “It’s alright. There’s no need for you or my sister to worry.”
Zhao Lu joked lightly, “We all feel sorry for you, miss. There was so much delicious food at last night’s banquet, and you, with your love for good food, missed it all.”
Tian Qin forced a smile. “Who loves good food?”
Chen Momo approached, her large hand like a palm-leaf fan, and felt Tian Qin’s forehead. “Hmm, you’re fine. No fever.”
Wan Cui cheerfully helped Tian Qin out of bed and prepared water for her to wash and comb her hair. “Look at how disheveled you are, young miss. You must have been greedy for coolness last night and had nightmares again. Let’s get you ready early, as Lady Xie is waiting for us for dinner. There will be so many delicious dishes that we servants wish we could attend but cannot.”
Tian Qin was nudged to the dressing table, where she gazed at her slightly youthful seventeen-year-old face as if seeing it across a lifetime.
She curved her lips gently, revealing glistening white teeth, sweet as a small moon.
This was herself.
It was spring, but the lingering chill remained, and she still feared the cold.
Perhaps it was because she had endured too much cold in her previous life in a thatched hut, and now she clung desperately to every bit of warmth in this one.
She said, “Bring a heating hand warmer, and then we’ll go.”
Zhao Lu immediately went to prepare it.
By afternoon, the master and servant headed toward the courtyard of Lady Xie, Yu Xianqiu. Spring brought desolation, with the harsh cold urging warmth, and the sky was streaked with scattered, colorful clouds.
Tian Qin, preoccupied with worries, reached the small stone bridge only to find the hand warmer had cooled. Annoyed, she sent Zhao Lu to fetch another.
Zhao Lu, being new to Xie Manor and unfamiliar with the winding paths, noticed a dense patch of wisteria flowers nearby and secretly marked the spot, saying, “Please wait here, young miss. I will return quickly.”
Tian Qin urged her to hurry back, feeling the cold.
Pine branches sprinkled with lingering spring snow chilled her repeatedly. She lifted her sleeve and saw the Xiaxuzhuo still on her wrist. Irritated, she broke it off and threw it into the pond beneath the bridge.
With a splash, water sprayed upward.
Xie Tanwei, who had been brewing tea under the wisteria, happened to witness the scene.