Wei Ling sat quietly, as if lost in memories. After a long while, he said, “When Grandfather was alive, he was only a minor general. It was only in Father’s generation that the Wei family truly began to rise. So Father often repeats one line: ‘Without me, this family would never have today.’When I was young, Father was the great general I looked up to—the most heroic man in the world.”
“But at some point, Father’s heart became clouded by ambition. He resented the Emperor for dividing up the troops under his command. Unable to change it, he pinned all his hopes on me and my elder brother. From the time I can remember, my brother and I spent every day either drilling or in the barracks—never a single day of rest.”
Wei Ling’s gaze drifted toward the courtyard gate, distant and unfocused.
“My brother and I were different. I was frail as a child—I couldn’t even stand at the post for long. If I forced myself through the morning, I couldn’t stand at all in the afternoon. Back then, Father only scolded me. Later, when I grew older, the beatings came—new wounds piled atop old ones. My brother didn’t fare much better.”
Song Xian listened silently, without a word. Suddenly, Wei Ling gave a faint laugh.
“But I did have one difference from my brother. He never dared defy Father. I, on the other hand, clashed with him every few days. Even Mother told me to yield more, so I’d suffer less.”
“But I never learned to bend. My health never improved, and the suffering only grew. At ten, Father began sending my brother and me to train with the army. I ran away halfway. Father was furious, but he was too busy with military affairs to chase me down, so he couldn’t punish me further. From then on, I was branded a *deserter*—the black sheep of the Wei family.”
“Father fought wars for two years, and I stayed away for two years.” At this point, Wei Ling seemed to recall something, a faint smile tugging at his lips. But he didn’t continue. Instead, he turned to Song Xian: “Do you also think I’m a deserter?”
Song Xian met his eyes and gently shook her head.
Wei Ling lifted his teacup, drained it in one swallow, and gave a soft laugh. “In truth, whether civil or military, it made little difference to me back then. I was simply used to opposing Father, refusing to follow his will. Now my brother guards the frontier, decorated with military merit. The Wei family no longer needs me.”
The lighter his tone, the deeper the wound hidden beneath.
In the past, Song Xian might have felt a pang of sorrow for him. But now, listening, she felt more sympathy than pain.
The fame of Second Master Wei in Shengjing was mostly praise for his unmatched talent. Few knew he carried such a past. No one in the General’s Manor would ever bring up such matters, and the servants would never gossip. Only today did Song Xian realize that father and son had been at odds for a long time. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She poured him more tea and gently said: “Second Master, now that you’ve entered the Court of Judicial Review, just do your work well. Once you achieve results, Father will surely acknowledge you.”
Yet Song Xian herself couldn’t quite understand. If he truly was as the rumors claimed, then why, in all these years of marriage, had he never sat for the examinations or sought an official post? What had he been doing all this time?
Curiosity aside, she didn’t want to ask—and couldn’t bring herself to.
“Acknowledge me?” Wei Ling gave a mocking laugh. “He never will. To him, anything that doesn’t go his way is meaningless. I no longer do things for his approval.”
“Yes, you should simply do what you like.”
*Do what I like?* Wei Ling gave a bitter smile to himself. He had nothing he truly liked.
But Song Xian’s voice was so soft that it soothed his recent restlessness. His expression eased slightly as he looked at her again.
“I’m telling you this today so you won’t overthink. Such matters will happen often—you needn’t take them to heart. I am me, Father is Father. You are not Mother, so you don’t need to be bound by them. Here in Liuying Pavilion, I can still protect you.”
Song Xian lowered her eyes. His words stirred no ripple in her heart. She thought herself truly cold. Shouldn’t she be overjoyed at his promise of protection? How could she feel so indifferent?
Seeing her head bowed in silence, Wei Ling assumed she was shy. He added, “These three years have been hard on you. From now on, I’ll spend more time in Shengjing. If you need anything, you can always come to me. If I’m not here, just tell Bai Yi.”
“Yes.”
But some things come too late—so late that she no longer needs them.
After that, neither of them spoke again. The chirping of insects in the courtyard grew loud and insistent, and the evening breeze drifted in, carrying the heavy fragrance of flowers.
Only then did Wei Ling notice the two peony plants on the windowsill. Several days had passed, yet she had tended them so well that they were still in full bloom.
He hadn’t expected her to get along with Yixian, but then again—when had she ever given him cause for worry?
“If you like flowers and plants, I’ll hire a gardener to help you. The back courtyard is rather small; another day, I’ll ask Mother to hand over the manor’s entire garden to you.”
Song Xian was startled. Forgetting her usual reserve, she clutched his sleeve. “No need. The little garden in the back is enough. And I don’t want a gardener.”
Planting flowers was meant to be her own quiet pleasure. With a gardener, where would the joy be? And if she took over the manor’s grand garden, it would no longer be a pastime—it would be a burden. He was clearly trying to trouble her rather than help.
Wei Ling hadn’t expected such a strong reaction. Her clear eyes looked up at him, shining with refusal. The sight stirred something in him. Then, glancing down at her soft, boneless hand gripping his sleeve, he felt a sudden impulse. He covered her hand with his own, his palm enveloping hers completely.
“Very well, then we won’t.”
For a moment, he saw surprise in her eyes—perhaps even fear. He didn’t quite understand, but thought to himself that tender moments between them were rare; her reaction was natural enough.
When he spoke again, his voice had softened. “Ah Xian…”
But Song Xian was so startled she quickly pulled her hand free. “Thank you, Second Master. You should return and rest early.”
Wei Ling’s expression darkened. He gave her a long, deep look, then ignored her words, stood, and walked toward the bedroom.
Song Xian’s heart sank. Was he planning to stay again?
Sure enough, he went to the wardrobe. Seeing his clothes had been put back inside, he ordered the servants outside to prepare hot water.
Song Xian thought to herself: fortunately, she had remembered to put his clothes back earlier; tonight, she truly wouldn’t know how to explain.
Wei Ling never needed attendants when he bathed; tonight was the same—he simply took his clothes and went into the bathing room.
He was clearly planning to stay. But this time, Song Xian was on her monthly cycle. She would have to get up several times during the night, her whole body uncomfortable. If another person lay beside her, she really wouldn’t get any sleep at all.
She was just pondering what excuse she could use to send him away, when she suddenly remembered that her sanitary cloths were still in the bathing room. Though clean, they would surely make him feel awkward if he saw them.
So, under his startled gaze, she stepped into the bathing room ahead of him. And just as he was about to speak, she discreetly hid the cloths behind her and carried them out. Calmly, she said: “Second Master, once you finish bathing, settle down early. I haven’t been feeling well these past few days and I’m afraid I’ll disturb your sleep. I’ll go rest in the side chamber tonight.”