Cold winds whistled through the courtyard, swirling the light snow on the ground.
Xie Qiao's voice was steady yet carried a hint of chill, instantly sobering Song Jin.
Look? Look at what?
Song Jin trembled slightly, forcing the words "looking at your waist" that had wandered to the tip of her tongue back down.
She remained standing there, pursing her lips silently.
Song Jin could imagine that if she said it, she would be trampling all over his sense of propriety and decorum.
Without needing to see it firsthand, she could guess how displeased he would be.
And besides…
Song Jin sighed inwardly—
They had been married for two months now, yet not only had they not grown physically closer, their words remained icy cold.
Song Jin had always thought, with her habit of admiring beautiful people, she would surely find a handsome husband someday.
Now she had obtained a husband who looked like a celestial being, and on several nights she had secretly laughed herself awake, wanting even more to live a good life with him.
But he always remained so distant…
Song Jin felt a pang of discomfort, as if her heart had been squeezed.
Standing at the doorway, she nervously rubbed the money pouch.
Seeing Song Jin still silent, Xie Qiao's gaze settled on her, his tone carrying a barely perceptible pressure: "Do you have something to say?"
Hearing Xie Qiao's tone, Song Jin quickly replied: "No, nothing."
Over the years, Song Jin had interacted with many people, but they were all common folk. Xie Qiao, however, always reminded her of the upright officials in the government offices.
Song Jin quietly thought, the capital truly was the capital—even an ordinary teacher resembled a high-ranking official. What would the noble families be like then?
As she pondered, she lifted her head to sneak another glance at Xie Qiao.
Her lips couldn't quite suppress a smile: What did those noble sons matter? Even heavenly deities couldn't compare to her husband's appearance!
Perhaps her husband was just this kind of temperament—teachers needed to be serious, after all!
Thinking this, her earlier nervousness vanished.
She took out the money pouch tucked in her bosom and said cheerfully: "This is the money I earned these past few days. Winter is approaching soon—husband, would you like to buy two new sets of clothes?"
Just this?
Xie Qiao glanced at his somewhat worn cotton coat, which belonged to Song Jin's grandfather before his passing. Xie Qiao was tall, and it fit a bit small, so he could only drape it over himself.
It was indeed time to acquire some new clothes.
Xie Qiao nodded slightly: "Yes."
He lowered his gaze slightly, tidying the books on the table: "These are the books I copied these past few days. Tomorrow you can return them to the bookstore. Use the money directly for purchases."
After speaking, Song Jin still showed no intention of leaving.
He paused slightly, looking at the young girl before him, and said nothing more.
The flush on the girl's face had faded, leaving only her rosy cheeks and fair, slender neck.
Her almond-shaped eyes were gentle yet spirited, and there was a dimple on her left cheek, usually unnoticeable except when she smiled.
But she smiled often, especially when looking at him.
She and her dimple alike were vibrant, like the pomegranates on the tree by her doorway—gentle and cheerful, making one feel comforted involuntarily.
He narrowed his eyes, discreetly withdrawing his gaze.
He tilted his head slightly, no longer looking at Song Jin, yet his tone softened a bit: "The wind outside is strong. You should return early to rest."
See, he's starting to send her away again.
Song Jin stood still, surveying the room, not leaving immediately.
Although they had married, they had always slept in separate rooms. The room her husband slept in was originally hers.
At that time, he had arrived suddenly, and only her own room in the house was still occupied, so she had to give this room to him and move to her grandfather's room.
Song Jin looked listless, like a small flower wilted by the wind and snow outside.
She tightened her grip on the money pouch, walked forward a few steps, and picked up the books on the table: "Alright, then husband, you should also rest early."
After saying this, she turned and walked slowly toward the door.
With a "creak," the door was pulled open. Song Jin quietly glanced back.
She had nearly turned back three times in one step, yet Xie Qiao did not even lift his gaze, only looking at the book in his hand.
Fine.
She sighed softly, her head drooping. After carrying the books away, the door was tightly shut.
The cold wind and snow were shut outside. Inside the room, only a bean-sized lamp illuminated the palm-sized space.
Even though he had lived in this room for two months, traces of Song Jin remained everywhere.
A few books were stacked on the square table. Xie Qiao placed the book he held on top, inadvertently noticing a letter pressed beneath the books.
His brows tightened slightly, and he lifted his hand to pull out the letter.
His thoughts drifted back to two months ago.
It was early autumn then. He had just finished his duties at the government office and returned to Jing'an Marquis Estate, where he received news that his father was gravely ill at the border. So he set out overnight with his men to the border, but unexpectedly was ambushed halfway.
The guards who accompanied him all died protecting him. Fortunately, he encountered Song Feng, who was heading to Chongzhou, recognized him, and saved him. In the end, though Song Feng was severely wounded, he still fought desperately to send Xie Qiao away. Before dying, he handed over the jade pendant from his waist, asking Xie Qiao to go to Chunliu Lane in Chongzhou to find his sister Song Jin and marry her.
Biting his teeth through the journey, Xie Qiao finally found Song Jin just before collapsing and asked her if she would marry him.
Somewhat unexpectedly, she agreed quickly. But he was injured so severely that he didn't know if he could survive, so he thought to marry her immediately. While she was preparing, he struggled to write this letter in the room. If he unfortunately died, Song Jin could take this letter to the capital.
He was the eldest son of Jing'an Marquis Estate and also the head of the Xie Family. Even if he died after marrying Song Jin, his mother would still care for her. Whether she remarried or otherwise, the Xie Family would become her support, thus repaying Song Feng's lifesaving grace.
If he woke up…
Xie Qiao lowered his gaze and opened the letter in his hand.
Because he woke up, Song Jin had not yet had the chance to open this letter and naturally did not know his identity.
For these two months, he concealed his identity while recuperating in Chunliu Lane, and sent his messages back to the capital by copying books, waiting for the Xie Family's arrival to plan further.
Xie Qiao glanced at the letter in his hand and lifted it close to the nearly extinguished candle flame.
The paper was ignited by the bean-sized candle flame, then slowly consumed, soon burning completely.
Along with the paper, the candle also died out. Xie Qiao raised his hand and lit a new one.
Meanwhile, Song Jin's room also lit up with brightness.
Outside, the wind and snow grew stronger, the sound of rain no longer audible, the surroundings increasingly quiet.
Song Jin carefully stored the copied booklets Xie Qiao had prepared, then brushed the snow from her hair.
Their rooms were not far apart, just a few steps away, so there wasn't much snow on her head. After brushing it off a couple of times, Song Jin felt her stomach growl with hunger.
Xie Qiao did not eat after noon, but Song Jin hadn't had dinner yet.
Outside, the wind and snow rustled relentlessly. Gritting her teeth, Song Jin decided to turn back and head to the kitchen to prepare some food.
It might be cold, but she couldn't go hungry!
She placed the steamed buns in the steamer and reheated the porridge on the stove. The kitchen grew warm and cozy from the firewood.
Song Jin sighed contentedly. Squatting beside the stove, she took out the red money pouch from her bosom, turned it upside down, and let the copper coins inside clatter onto the small stool.
But besides the coins, a small crumpled piece of paper also fell out of the pouch.
"Huh?"
Song Jin glanced at the note but didn't pay it much mind, assuming it was a blessing message that had come with the celebratory money.
Only after counting all the coins did she unfold the small note.
And the more she read, the wider her almond-shaped eyes grew.
This… this wasn't a blessing message at all—it was a note from Sister Qinghong asking her to deliver a message!
The note was small but clearly written.
The person Sister Qinghong wanted to meet lived in the third house on Donglin Lane. Sister Qinghong would wait for him at Chongjiang Ferry at the third quarter of the hour of Xu.
When Song Jin had delivered pastries to Xiucui Pavilion before, she had heard the girls there mention that Sister Qinghong had a sweetheart.
But she never expected Sister Qinghong would want to elope with him!
Looking at the note, Song Jin bit her lip, feeling hesitant.
What if Sister Qinghong got caught? Elopement was a major scandal, and Master Wang had considerable influence in Chongzhou. Could Sister Qinghong really escape?
But if she didn't help Sister Qinghong deliver this message, and it ended up ruining Sister Qinghong's chance at love, wouldn't that be her fault?
What should she do?
Song Jin's brows furrowed so tightly they could have crushed a mosquito.
Outside, the wind whipped the snowflakes into a chaotic dance, occasionally slapping against the door.
If the wind was this strong in the courtyard, the ferry would only be colder and more desolate.
Sister Qinghong didn't know whether Song Jin would deliver the message for her, so she would definitely go to the ferry to wait tonight.
Just thinking about it made Song Jin shiver.
In that case, she would help Sister Qinghong this once.
Sister Qinghong had clearly been unhappy today—she didn't want to marry. If that man could take Sister Qinghong away, she would surely be happier!
Besides…
Song Jin tightened her grip on the heavy red pouch.
She had already taken the reward money.
Once decided, Song Jin extinguished the kitchen fire, quickly ate a few bites of steamed bun, wrapped herself tightly in her padded jacket, and plunged into the swirling snow.
Her slender figure was soon swallowed by the heavy snowfall, leaving only the sound of the door opening to reach Xie Qiao's room.
He frowned, instinctively glancing toward the main gate.
At that moment, a tall, dark figure stood by the window, gently tapping on it. "Young Master."
Xie Qiao was momentarily taken aback, then replied calmly, "Come in."
Donglin Lane lay east of Chunliu Lane. What was usually a short distance felt exceptionally arduous in the heavy snow.
By the time Song Jin felt her face was about to freeze stiff, she finally arrived. Standing at the entrance of the third house, she gently knocked on the door.
Before long, footsteps sounded from inside.
The footsteps stopped behind the door. "Who is it?"
Song Jin's voice was already soft in the wind and snow, and she deliberately spoke even quieter. "I'm here to deliver a message for Sister Qinghong."
Upon hearing Song Jin's response, the person inside did not reply further but simply opened the door.
Song Jin looked up and saw a young man dressed in a plain cotton robe standing at the doorway. He had a delicate appearance, resembling a scholar.
He looked at Song Jin with a serious expression: "She sent you?"
"Yes." Song Jin handed him the small note in her palm: "Sister Qinghong is waiting for you at the ferry."
Looking at the note in Song Jin's hand, the young man hesitated and did not immediately reach for it.
Snow fell onto Song Jin's palm and melted instantly, covering the note with many flakes, blurring the handwriting.
Song Jin raised her hand, pushing the note forward.
Finally, the young man took the note, showing no trace of joy on his face, even displaying a hint of impatience.
Song Jin opened her mouth, intending to say something, but seeing his expression, it was clear he did not wish to speak further.
Song Jin was not foolish; she whispered softly: "I'll leave now."
After saying this, she turned and walked away, but after a few steps, she stopped and looked back at the young man who was about to close the door.
After hesitating for a moment, she still asked: "Sir, will you go?"
The candle in the room had just been lit, barely illuminating the small space, far better than the stub of wax from earlier.
Yet in Fu Cang's eyes, it was his master living in this tiny, dilapidated hut, barely clothed and scarcely fed.
After two months apart, his master had become so thin!
Having served his lord for over ten years, he had never seen his master in such dire straits!
The sturdy man stood before the square table, tears welling in his eyes. Holding his sword and clasping his hands, he bowed deeply, head nearly touching his chest: "Master, I have arrived late, causing you to suffer!"
"It's fine." Xie Qiao raised a hand, asking solemnly: "How is my father? Has there been any unusual movement in the capital?"
Fu Cang sniffed: "Reporting to my lord, the old Marquis is well. As you anticipated, someone falsely spread news to lure you away from the capital, and the ambush along the way was likely orchestrated by the same person. After news of your disappearance spread in the capital, initially there was no disturbance, but later rumors began circulating that you had died."
"It seems they are targeting me." Xie Qiao's expression grew cold, his lips tightening: "It appears someone wishes for my death."
When ambushed midway, he immediately suspected deliberate plotting, but over these two months, he had not confirmed who it was.
Although factions in the capital are complex, as the head of the Xie Family, those daring to kill him likely hold high status.
"Given this, I shall comply with their wishes for now. I am curious what they will do if I do not return to the capital."
Xie Qiao tapped his fingers on the table a few times, then picked up a letter.
His handwriting was vigorous and forceful; after writing a few lines, he handed it to Fu Cang: "Send this message to the Emperor. I will be recuperating in Chongzhou for some time and do not intend to reveal my identity. Do not disclose any news about me in the capital. You should also remain hidden recently, avoiding detection by others."
"Yes!" Fu Cang received the letter with both hands. "When does the master plan to return to the capital?"
Xie Qiao lifted his slender fingers, pressing his brow: "After some more time."
"Yes!" Fu Cang hesitated twice, then cautiously asked: "Does the master intend to bring the young mistress back to the capital as well?"
Xie Qiao stopped pressing his brow; beneath his palm, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.
Young mistress?
Fu Cang thought Xie Qiao didn’t know who he was referring to, so he added an explanation: “I heard that you married here two months ago, sir. I only came to see you today after waiting for the young lady to leave.”
“It was just a hurried ceremony, not registered officially, and there is no marital relationship.” Xie Qiao raised his eyes, his expression unchanged: “You don’t need to call her ‘madam.’ Just call her Miss Song.”
“I understand!” Fu Cang complied, though over these years, there had never been a woman around his master, so he was genuinely curious: “So you don’t plan to take Miss Song back to the capital?”
“She is now orphaned, and her brother once saved my life. It was rushed at the time, and I haven’t revealed my identity yet. I’ll decide everything when it’s time to leave.” Xie Qiao said calmly: “Don’t inform the family about my marriage here. When I return to the capital, I’ll bring her to the estate.”
But what identity would Song Jin use when she returned…
He still needed to carefully consider that.