By afternoon, the rain gradually eased, leaving the world wrapped in a thin veil of damp mist.
Jiang Xingzhou took Feng Yi to inspect the villa and the shopfront. After comparing both options, she finally chose the one he had recommended first—the property with a shop in front and a residence behind.
Once the decision was made, they went to look at the Feng Family residence, the place Jiang Xingzhou had personally selected years ago to settle her in. Since He Yun and Yangyang would be staying there once they arrived in the capital, she wanted to check if anything was still missing.
The house stood in Redbud Lane in the Eastern District, less than two quarters of an hour’s carriage ride from Duke Jing’an’s estate. Even though she had said she only needed a small courtyard, he had purchased a large compound spanning four sections.
When the carriage came to a stop, Jiang Xingzhou stepped down first, opened an umbrella, and helped her alight.
Through the fine, misty rain, Feng Yi looked up at the large characters carved above the gate—Feng Residence. Written in Jiang Xingzhou’s bold, flowing calligraphy, they were as restrained as he was, yet carried a sharp, hidden edge.
“Come, let’s go inside and have a look.”
Jiang Xingzhou kept one arm around her shoulders and tilted the large umbrella toward her as they walked through the gate.
Stepping inside, the whole compound exuded refinement: pavilions, terraces, towers, and winding corridors, with rockeries and lush flower beds everywhere.
In the garden, the paths paved with smooth, polished stones glistened brightly after being washed by the rain.
Over there, a swing hung from a frame entirely covered in climbing roses, which were now in full, glorious bloom.
“Mianmian, what kind of house would you like?”
“It doesn’t need to be large—just enough for us to live comfortably.”
“And what else?”
“It would be nice if there were flowers in every season. And some bamboo too—when you play the zither beneath the bamboo grove, you look so captivating. Also plant some plantains, so we can listen to the rain tapping against their leaves on rainy days.”
“Anything more?”
“Build me a swing draped in roses, please.”
Feng Yi’s chest tightened with a sharp ache. Back then, she had already made up her mind to leave, and all those requests had been nothing more than casual replies to fob him off. Yet he had remembered every single word.
It felt as if the rain had shifted its course and fallen into her eyes. She could no longer clearly see the apricot and peach blossoms of spring, the lotus and jasmine of summer, the chrysanthemums and osmanthus of autumn, or the camellias and green plum blossoms of winter.
Unable to hold back the moisture welling up, she simply lowered her head and let the tears fall silently into the soil, leaving no trace.
Jiang Xingzhou stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You said you love watching me play the zither under the bamboo. I guessed you would also enjoy seeing me practice swordplay, play chess, and brew tea beneath the flowers. So I had them plant small orchards of peaches, apricots, plums, and crabapples.”
Feng Yi burst into laughter through her tears. “The great Duke Jing’an… are you planning to use your talents and charms to seduce me?”
“If it keeps you by my side forever, what harm is there in showing off a little skill?” Jiang Xingzhou replied with a smile.
“Then wouldn’t that make you no different from the entertainers in the South Wind Quarter?” Feng Yi teased deliberately.
“There is still a difference,” he said, not taking offense at all and playing along. “They are not as handsome as I am. They charge money, while I would pay you to stay. They serve every patron, but I…” He paused, bringing his lips almost to her ear, “…only serve you.”
Feng Yi laughed until her whole body shook. “Then why don’t you give me a demonstration right now?”
“You’ve grown bold enough to order me around?” He flicked her forehead lightly with his fingers. “But what reward will I get?”
“You know what you want.”
Jiang Xingzhou let go of her and walked over to a stand of slender green bamboo. He snapped off a branch of just the right thickness, brushed off the droplets of water, and turned back. The relaxed, easygoing air around him had subtly shifted.
He tapped the tip of his foot lightly against a rockery and leaped gracefully into the air.
Jiang Shaoguang may have mistreated him, but he had also forced him to master extraordinary martial arts. Even with nothing more than an ordinary bamboo branch in his hand, his movements were sharp and precise as if wielding a real sword, flowing from one stance to the next like water—both lethal and beautiful to watch. His robes fluttered in the damp air after the rain, like a crane gliding through the wind, elegant and powerful.
Feng Yi leaned against a pillar of the covered walkway, watching him with growing fascination.
Once again, she silently sighed in her heart: How could a man of such noble bearing, so well-versed in both literature and combat, have such a wild, unpredictable temperament?
He might seem calm and reasonable now, even going out of his way to please her. But she knew full well that if she so much as hinted at wanting to leave, this beautiful estate would instantly turn into a prison to hold her captive.
Jiang Xingzhou brought his “swordplay” to a close and glided over to stand in front of her. Somehow, he had plucked a pale pink double-petaled rose, removed its thorns, and raised it to tuck it gently behind her ear. “Well? Does it meet Miss Feng’s standards?”
“Not bad at all,” Feng Yi said, reaching up to hold his chin. “As graceful as a swimming dragon, as striking as a startled swan. Few in this world can match the bearing of Duke Jing’an.”
He leaned down until his lips brushed her ear. “Then what about my reward…?”
“Later, when we get back,” she said, pressing her fingertips against his chest and pushing him away with a smile.
After their playful exchange, Feng Yi chose a bright, spacious courtyard on the eastern side for He Yun and her daughter, giving clear instructions to the servants on how to arrange and furnish it before leaving.
Jiang Xingzhou had originally been reluctant to let them move in. He had gone to so much trouble to prepare this place, yet he and Feng Yi had not even lived there themselves—now they would enjoy it first. But then he reasoned that this residence had originally been intended for a “concubine,” and he did not want Feng Yi to ever be associated with that title again. Besides, He Yun was family she had accepted, and for their future marriage to be conducted properly with all traditional rites, she would need a respectable household to receive guests. So he agreed.
By the time they returned to Duke Jing’an’s estate, night had fallen, and lanterns under the eaves were being lit one by one.
No sooner had they stepped out of the carriage than Amber, one of the senior maids serving the Qin clan, hurried over and bowed respectfully. “My Lord, Cousin Feng, the Old Duke and the Old Mistress have sent word inviting you both to join the family dinner.”
Feng Yi looked toward Jiang Xingzhou, her eyes filled with doubt. Jiang Shaoguang had never been fond of her—this was likely not going to be a pleasant meal.
Jiang Xingzhou, however, had already guessed part of the reason. He squeezed her fingers gently to reassure her, then said to Amber, “Lead the way.”
The dining hall of Dawn Court was brightly lit, with a full table of fine dishes laid out. Jiang Shaoguang and the Qin clan were already seated at the head of the table.
“Father, Mother,” Jiang Xingzhou greeted them with clasped hands—polite, yet distant.
Feng Yi followed suit with a proper curtsy. “Greetings, Old Duke, Aunt.”
“No need for such formality—we are all family,” the Qin clan said with a warm smile. “Please, sit.”
“Hmph,” Jiang Shaoguang scoffed, his words carrying a sharp edge. “Returning home only after dark, making your elders wait in vain—truly lacking in proper upbringing.”
He could insult him all he wanted, but dragging Feng Yi into it was something Jiang Xingzhou would not tolerate.
His face hardened instantly. “You are right—I do lack proper upbringing. After all, Father never taught me, did he? As the saying goes, ‘If a child is not raised right, the fault lies with the father.’ Perhaps Father should reflect on that.”
“Rebellious son!” Jiang Shaoguang slammed his fist on the table, making the bowls and plates rattle.
“It seems Father is not in the mood to share a meal together,” Jiang Xingzhou said calmly, his expression unchanged. He took Feng Yi’s hand. “In that case, we shall take our leave.”
“Now, now,” the Qin clan stepped in to smooth things over. “It is rare for the whole family to gather. Let us all hold our tongues. The food will soon grow cold—please, let us eat.”
Although the Qin clan had never truly loved him, she had never treated him with deliberate cruelty either, and she was also Feng Yi’s aunt. Jiang Xingzhou gave her a little face and sat down beside Feng Yi.
Throughout the meal, the only sounds were the occasional polite remarks between the Qin clan and Feng Yi, and the soft clink of porcelain.
Jiang Xingzhou said nothing, but noticing how uncomfortable Feng Yi felt, he kept putting food onto her plate: tender flesh from the belly of steamed perch, silken tofu with crab roe, crisp asparagus tips… all her favorite dishes. He completely ignored Jiang Shaoguang, who opened his mouth to speak several times but remained silent, his face growing darker by the minute.
As soon as Feng Yi finished her first bowl of rice, Jiang Xingzhou immediately ordered the maid standing by, “Fill another bowl for the young lady.”
The Qin clan wanted to say something like “A young lady should not eat too much, lest she gain weight,” but held her tongue.
This gave Jiang Shaoguang the opening he had been waiting for. “Linyuan, now that you have found Feng Yi again, it is time to give serious thought to your marriage. Only once you are properly wed can you bring her into the household. Our Jiang family has an unblemished reputation. We cannot have a concubine taken before a legal wife, or illegitimate sons born before legitimate heirs.”
Feng Yi’s chopsticks paused briefly, then resumed as if nothing had happened, picking up the dish of bitter melon and eggs. Damn it—had the cook forgotten to soak the melon in salt water first to draw out its bitterness? It was unbearably bitter.
“Father speaks correctly,” Jiang Xingzhou replied lightly, but his gaze caught the slight frown between her brows.
He reached over naturally, picked up the half-eaten piece of bitter melon from her bowl, and popped it into his own mouth. His brow furrowed just as hers had. “If it is this bitter, why didn’t you say something?”
“There is no need,” Feng Yi said, looking up and smiling faintly. “Just swallow it down. Once you have tasted it, you will know what it is like—and you will not reach for it again.”
Like him, she spoke with double meaning.
Jiang Xingzhou fell silent for a moment, then smiled bitterly. The mistakes he had made were finally coming back to him. He would have to swallow this bitter fruit all by himself.
“It is good that you understand,” Jiang Shaoguang said, satisfied. He pressed on. “What about the third daughter of Minister Zhang, of the Ministry of Revenue? She is beautiful, well-read, and proper. Though the Zhang family is not among the highest nobility, Minister Zhang himself is highly capable and has a bright future ahead.”
Minister Zhang Si? A protégé of Grand Tutor Nie. When had his father gotten involved with the Nie family? Short-sighted and troublesome!
“I have no interest,” Jiang Xingzhou said, setting down his silver chopsticks. “As for whom I will marry, I have already made my choice. Father need not trouble himself.”
“Oh? Who is it?”
Jiang Xingzhou turned his head to look at Feng Yi, his eyes filled with nothing but her. “Feng Yi. I intend to make Feng Yi my lawful wife.”
Feng Yi lifted her head in shock.
She had always assumed his earlier words about marrying her were nothing more than empty promises to soothe her—just like the vows he had spoken four years ago: “Feng Yi, in my heart, you are my only wife.” They were just sweet words to win her trust.
The Qin clan could not hide her surprise either. When she had brought her niece into the household, she had only intended to place a docile pawn in her stepson’s inner quarters, hoping she would secure a comfortable position. She never expected the girl would become the lady of the house. But now, Feng Yi was grown strong, her mind sharp and deep—no longer easy to manipulate.
“Nonsense!” Jiang Shaoguang struck the table again, his face contorted with rage, ruining his usually polished, scholarly demeanor. “The highest rank in the Feng family is only a fourth-rank prefect. Her own father is a useless, incompetent man. What help can such a family offer you? What benefit can they bring to the House of Jing’an?”
“I, Jiang Xingzhou, have not fallen so low that I must rely on my wife’s family to hold my position,” he said calmly. He took out a handkerchief and wiped Feng Yi’s fingers, which had been splashed with soup when the table was struck. Fortunately, it was not hot enough to burn—otherwise, he would have thrown the entire tureen in Jiang Shaoguang’s face, just as he had struck back five years ago when the old man had schemed against Feng Yi.
He lifted his gaze. “I have achieved everything I have today over the past three years, completely on my own.”
This struck a nerve in Jiang Shaoguang, who owed his own standing entirely to his wife’s family. His face turned pale then flushed red. “You speak grandly now—but was it not you who sought political marriages yourself once?”
Jiang Xingzhou folded the handkerchief, but did not let go of Feng Yi’s hand—instead, he held it tighter. “Unlike you, Father, when I sought alliances, it was for mutual exchange and benefit. It was never…” He spoke slowly, every word deliberate and cutting, “…living off a woman’s wealth and status.”
“You—!” Jiang Shaoguang’s finger trembled as he pointed at him. “Do you believe I cannot have her thrown out of this house right now?” He turned his finger toward Feng Yi.
“I do,” Jiang Xingzhou replied calmly and steadily. “But let me remind Father—wherever Feng Yi goes, I go. And wherever I am, there stands the House of Jing’an.”
“Unfilial wretch!” Jiang Shaoguang’s face turned scarlet, his chest heaving with fury. “I will go before the Emperor and report you for disobedience and disrespect!”
“By all means,” Jiang Xingzhou said, even nodding slightly in polite deference. “Would you like me to accompany you? Though I suspect His Majesty will find another matter far more interesting than my supposed lack of filial piety.”
A cold smile touched his lips. “For example—how exactly did my mother die? What does Father think?”
Jiang Shaoguang’s pupils contracted sharply, and a flash of guilt crossed his face. Overcome with rage and humiliation, he grabbed an empty plate from the table and hurled it hard onto the floor.
“Get out! Both of you, get out!”
Feng Yi and the Qin clan exchanged a glance. For once, the two women, who usually only pretended to be close, found themselves in complete agreement.
It seemed they had just heard something far more serious than they had imagined.
Feng Yi felt more certain than ever that this was no ordinary fictional world. In the original story, Lady Cui’s death was mentioned only briefly as background detail—this was definitely not part of anything she had written.
Here, everything felt real.
As soon as Jiang Xingzhou and Feng Yi stepped out of the main hall of Dawn Court, the sound of shattering porcelain echoed from behind them. He paid it no mind, walking forward with steady steps.
For years, he had secretly investigated his mother’s death, but had never found any trace. Today, he had only spoken in the heat of Jiang Shaoguang’s anger—never expecting to have hit upon something true.
His mother was the daughter of a distinguished military family, raised to face death and loss from childhood. She had also trained in martial arts, making her naturally robust. How could she have fallen gravely ill and abandoned her young son simply because her father and brothers had died in battle?
The two walked silently toward Rose Pavilion. There was no moon and no stars in the sky that night. Feng Yi felt Jiang Xingzhou’s mood as heavy and somber as the darkness, wrapped in a deep, smothering grief.
She subtly signaled Jiang Gu and Tingyun to fall back and remain at a distance, then walked quietly beside him. As they passed the rockery in the garden, he suddenly stopped and pulled her into a small, hidden cave.
In the pitch-black space, she caught the familiar scent of sandalwood on his clothes and heard his voice, low and almost inaudible.
“Yi Yi… hold me.”