"The news of the Grand Commandant punishing you has already been spread, and we've had some people praise the Grand Commandant for his strict household management. The earlier rumors we spread about you being led astray have also been suppressed."
Xie Jilian leaned on the armrest of his couch, his expression calm as he ate candy.
As he had told Wen Shuo, there were plenty of ways to balance things out in this world.
He had deliberately dragged the Xie family down by sullying his own reputation, angering his father—but he also had his own ways of giving his father the good name he wanted.
Reputation was nothing but smoke and clouds; the art of turning things upside down was common among the great clans, hardly worth remarking upon.
Yu Pu added, "The Emperor has sent someone back with a reply."
"What did he say?"
"The Emperor said that in three days, at the willow bridge outside the Princess's residence, he will make sure you get what you desire."
His teeth cracked open the osmanthus candy, his tongue curled to sweep up the shattered fragments, and finally he tilted his head back and unclenched his jaw, letting the two halves of the candy drop to the root of his throat.
Sweet satisfaction.
After all that scheming, the young Emperor had finally taken the bait.
Xie Jilian was in a good mood, and the sharpness in his brows and eyes softened in an instant. Yu Pu seized the opportunity to ask, "Would you like to have a meal, sir? It's already past noon, and you haven't touched a single grain of rice."
Xu Qiaoxi had gone to the Red Jade Terrace, but the food table hadn't been moved away yet.
Standing outside the screen, Yu Pu secretly clicked her tongue in amazement.
Her master had no appetite—on ordinary days, getting him to eat even half a mouthful of rice required gentle persuasion from all of them, and he couldn't even bear to look at a food table. Why had he suddenly taken in that young woman as his lesser wife, and sat there watching her eat?
Xie Jilian popped another candy into his mouth and said flatly, "No appetite…"
"Then I'll take it away."
"Wait."
Yu Pu had already lifted the food table with both hands, but at his words, she set it back down.
Xie Jilian straightened up, his gaze sweeping over each dish one by one.
What she'd eaten a lot of was the stuffed beef, the crispy lamb, the clear broth with baby bok choy, the silver-thread bird's nest rolls, the steamed lily, the shredded three-delicacy soup—and she'd also had a bowl of fish broth. What she'd barely touched was the smoked pork slices and the steamed vegetable shoots—she probably didn't care for the smoky flavor or the bitterness of the greens.
What she'd eaten and then spat out was that plate of roasted venison.
Xie Jilian stared at the venison, then picked up the chopsticks Xu Qiaoxi had used with his right hand, reached over, and picked up a bit of the cold venison, placing it in his mouth to chew slowly.
It tasted pretty good.
He curled his lips into a sneer, a breathy laugh escaping through his teeth.
Wasn't it just a wild deer? Did she have to cry for help and feel so pitying that she couldn't bear to eat it?
Soft-hearted little things never lived long.
Xu Qiaoxi—whatever he said, she believed. Even if she caught on, he could fob her off with a few words.
Not exactly stupid, but not shrewd either—just right.
More agreeable than all the scheming people in Luoyang. Xie Jilian genuinely wanted to keep her around and support her for a while longer.
The silk bedsheet still bore the imprint of where she'd been sitting.
She wore her feelings on her face, eating with such joy and abandon that her chopsticks, bowl, and dishes clattered merrily through the whole meal.
Was eating really that enjoyable?
The gentry prized beauty and favored the ethereal, slender figure of one who rode the wind. Fine rice and delicacies were to be enjoyed, and food was to be prepared with utmost refinement—but everyone carried a ruler in their hearts, terrified of straying from the mold, refusing to eat a bite more.
He picked up another piece of venison with her chopsticks and savored it, as if eating it on her behalf.
A strange, inexpressible pleasure rose in his chest, winding like gossamer threads around his lips, teeth, and throat, clinging to his ribs.
Eating wasn't fun.
Destroying her compassion—that was fun.
Xie Jilian chewed, savoring his amusement, when suddenly a sharp ache shot through his back molar, as if a thin string were hooked to the tooth, tugging at it maliciously.
"Tch."
His expression turned icy in an instant, and he threw down the chopsticks.
Yu Pu knew at once that his tooth trouble was acting up again, and called for someone to bring ice.
A small box of crushed ice arrived quickly. Yu Pu handed it to Xie Jilian, then turned and carried away the food table.
Her master had been addicted to sweets since childhood, and one of his teeth had always given him trouble. The household physician had urged him years ago to have it properly treated and to give up sugar, but her master always said, "It's only a slight discomfort—no need to make a fuss."
In truth, that tooth had already rotted.
But her master seemed unable to feel the pain, as if it didn't hurt at all, and had let it drag on until now—beyond any hope of saving.
Three days later, at the Wen family's Chujia Villa.
A gentle breeze blew, and the sunlight shimmered brilliantly. Wen Shuo was hosting a refined gathering of scholars at the rear mountain of his family's villa.
Among the rocks, flowers, and grass, he sat cross-legged in a loose pale-blue robe with wide sleeves, one leg propped up, lifting a wine jug to his lips and drinking deeply.
"Now that's what I call satisfaction!"
The wine Lingjia sent was always richer and more fragrant than anywhere else's.
"Beiyuan, stop after a few drinks—how can you hold a scholarly debate if you're drunk?"
A young man from the Chen family who knew him well pushed Wen Shuo's shoulder, signaling him to put down the wine jug.
Wen Shuo's cheeks were flushed, and he smiled in a drunken haze, waving a hand at the young Master Chen. "Why can't a drunk man hold a scholarly debate?"
His lips, moistened by wine, were bright and vivid. He held the jug and extended a finger, pointing one by one at the meticulously groomed faces of the noble young men around him.
"Dead drunk, and naturally elegant—heaven favors me, Wen Beiyuan! You lot who haven't drunk will be asking for trouble soon enough."
Wen Shuo stretched out his arm and pulled at Xie Jilian beside him.
Today, Xie Jilian wore a water-blue curved-collar robe with layered jade pendants—refined and lively, like clear skies and drifting clouds.
Wen Shuo asked, "What about Mingguang? If the Wang family's young master isn't here, this gathering loses a lot of people—he can't skip it!"
"The Governor of Yangwu was married yesterday. I sent Mingguang in my place; he should be on his way back now."
"Ah, I remember now—that Yangwu Prefect who got whipped by Princess Xincheng on the palace road during his audience report?" Wen Shuo muttered, a flash of inspiration striking him. He scrambled up, covering his face as he mimicked the Yangwu Prefect's miserable state after being whipped for the other young nobles. Everyone covered their faces and laughed, cheerful and at ease.
Amid the banter, Wei Zhao finally arrived, travel-worn, and took his seat.
The moment Wen Shuo saw him, he teased him about riding through the night, saying the dark circles under his eyes hadn't even had time to be powdered over. Wei Zhao smiled and let it pass, sitting to Xie Jilian's lower left, presenting a palm-sized lacquered red box with both hands.
"The thing you wanted, sir."
Xie Jilian's brow arched slightly, his chin lifting as he pinched the collar of his curved-neck robe and adjusted it, a certain anticipation glimmering in his eyes.
He took the box and rose, walking outward.
"I just remembered there's important business today. Enjoy your philosophical discussions—Lingjia takes his leave."
"Hey! Xie Lingjia!"
The wine jug toppled onto the table. Wen Shuo tried to scramble up and curse Xie Jilian for "fleeing before battle," but he stepped on his own robe hem and tumbled backward onto a smooth white stone, sprawling in a complete mess.
"Ow~"
A bullock cart with hanging bells and fragrant walls stopped at the princess's mansion gate.
The young gatekeeper stepped forward to bow: "The princess is receiving no guests today, honored one, please return… Oh, it's Master Xie! What business brings you here? This servant will go announce you."
A jade-like hand parted the curtain at the cart's front. Xie Jilian stepped down the carriage steps slowly and walked straight in.
"Delivering a gift to the princess. No need to announce—Her Highness will certainly wish to see me."
"But the princess, she…"
Xie Jilian held the red lacquered box, gathered his robes, and knelt before the gold-traced long table.
Sima Yuzhen lay pillowed on her arm, thoroughly drunk, paying no mind to the wine spilling across the table or the overturned cups.
Xie Jilian set down the box and righted the wine vessel. The slight commotion roused her—a pair of phoenix eyes opened drowsily.
She languidly propped herself up, hugged her bent knees, and turned sideways, refusing to look at him.
Xie Jilian had removed himself from the candidate pool for consort, and Sima Yuzhen's plan to leverage the Xie family had fallen through.
"I lost, but I don't believe you can win every time."
"Lingjia has found a gift for Your Highness—one sent from Yangwu Commandery. Won't Your Highness take a look?"
A flicker of shock crossed Sima Yuzhen's originally contemptuous face.
She snatched up the red lacquered box Xie Jilian had brought and opened it—inside was a snow-white cloth.
She didn't understand its meaning.
Sima Yuzhen's brows knitted slightly. She reached in and pulled out the cloth, unfolding it fully—only to see spots of blood upon it, mixed with an unidentifiable yellow-brown liquid.
"This is…"
A searing pain burst from her heart. Sima Yuzhen's breath caught, her hands trembling as she desperately crushed and kneaded the cloth, as if trying to press it into her palms.
She let out a suppressed, beast-like howl, tears falling in streams and merging with the bloodstains on the cloth.
"Heh heh heh…"
Xie Jilian's smile was rich with delight, the corners of his mouth twitching beyond control as he raised his sleeve to cover it.
"The Yangwu Commandery Prefect married the Lady Wu whom Your Highness favored—yesterday. He rose to his position through the Xie family's recommendation of filial and incorrupt candidates, so Lingjia asked him on the princess's behalf for the cloth from their wedding night, to ease Your Highness's longing…"
"Shut up! Don't say another word! Shut up!"
Sima Yuzhen hurled the cloth aside, lunging across the wine table to seize Xie Jilian's throat with both hands.
"Xie Jilian, you're not human! Why did you drag A-Qing into this! You've destroyed her, and you've destroyed me!"
Xie Jilian could clearly hear his own neck creaking, like a dry branch about to snap. His breath came in strained gasps, but his throat was still laughing.
This was the expression.
The expression of one seeing a ghost in broad daylight.
Xie Jilian's absolute favorite.
His laughter was low and hoarse, gradually growing faster, louder, until tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. His amber pupils burned within bloodshot eyes like twin golden flames on an altar, blazing with a bone-chilling madness.
Xie Jilian struck Sima Yuzhen's hands away with one palm, clutching his neck as he gasped and laughed, coughing as he pierced her heart:
"You wounded me with a sword; I return to you a bloodstained cloth."
"Your Highness has known since childhood that Lingjia is somewhat mad—why did you overestimate yourself and come to contend with him?"
Sima Yuzhen couldn't withstand his force and collapsed sideways to the ground. The cold stone slabs made her realize something.
"No! It wasn't me contending with you—it was you deliberately provoking me to contend with you!"
By having his own disciple marry A-Qing, Sima Yuzhen would inevitably retaliate against the Xie family in the selection of consorts between the Wang and Xie houses. She didn't necessarily need Xie Jilian himself, but separated from her beloved by the ends of the earth, she would surely fight him to the death.
But why? Why would he go through this circuitous route to "court disaster"?
"I've been tricked…"
Sima Yuzhen murmured in shock, her hand stained with bright vermilion nail polish pointing at him in fury, "You! You treacherous villain! The one you've schemed against is my imperial brother!"
At age twelve, Sima Yuzhen first met Xie Jilian by the Tai Pool.
He was ten then, adorable as jade and snow, yet already bearing a radiant divine bearing. Sima Yuzhen wanted to play with him, but as she drew near, she saw a dead sparrow clutched in his hand.
She asked, why are you picking up a dead sparrow? He answered: he didn't pick it up—he crushed it to death.
Ten-year-old Xie Jilian was curious: human blood comes from blood vessels beneath the skin—but where does a sparrow's blood come from? Could it be from beneath its feathers?
Sima Yuzhen immediately found this person strange and uncanny, silently cursing him a "madman" before turning to leave, no longer wanting to play with him.
Unexpectedly, she had not walked more than a few steps when her silk skirt was suddenly struck by something.
It was that dead sparrow.
Young Xie Jilian, with a face of stunning beauty cold as ice, gave her a smile that did not reach his eyes.
From then on, the two were irreconcilable. Later, when the imperial younger brother ascended the throne and she advocated moving the capital and retreating south, the Xie family insisted on holding Luoyang and refusing to relocate.
Xie Jilian rose to his feet, straightened his robes and crown, and respectfully bowed to Sima Yuzhen with hands folded, then turned to leave.
"Wait!"
Sima Yuzhen scrambled forward, desperately clutching at Xie Jilian's sleeve.
"Regardless of how the court contends, I… I beg you, I beg you to spare Shuiqing." Sima Yuzhen choked, tears bursting forth like a breached dam. "Just let her marry and bear children, live a peaceful life in the inner quarters, do not harm her…"
Xie Jilian glanced back at her, curiosity suddenly stirring within him.
"Does the Princess regret letting emotion cloud her political judgment?"
Had she been steadier of mind, she would never have fallen into this trap and handed Xie Jilian his victory.
"I love her. Love means being thrown into chaos by concern, being unable to control oneself, feeling as though one's heart is being twisted…"
Sima Yuzhen lifted her tear-streaked face and smiled with serene resignation.
"Xie Jilian, you have no heart. You cannot love. You are destined to be a cold-blooded madman."
Love?
Xie Jilian curled his lips. Was it truly so important?
The smile that did not reach his eyes from childhood surfaced once more. He pulled his sleeve free and strode away.
The ox-cart circled Luoyang city twice before finally winding to a stop at Willow Bridge, not far from the Princess's residence.
From here, one could gaze upon the Princess's mansion from the bridge.
The sun was setting in the west, molten gold spilling across the horizon. On the bridge, a figure wearing a floor-length veiled hat was staring at the Princess's residence, both hands gripping the bridge railing with deathly force.
Xie Jilian walked to his side and adjusted the collar of his robe, covering the strangulation marks on his neck.
"Your Majesty."
"Shh." The man raised a hand, signaling Xie Jilian to be silent.
Xie Jilian followed his gaze into the distance. The Princess's residence was engulfed in raging flames, smoke and fire billowing skyward as countless servants scurried out like ants.
"Lingjia, I burned my own elder sister to death…"
Sima Zhi's form swayed, his hands slipping from the bridge railing as he began to collapse.
"Your Majesty." Xie Jilian caught him, forcibly steadying him on his feet, and whispered by the edge of the veiled hat: "What of an elder sister? Was the Princess not also the elder sister of the Prince of Zhao, the Prince of Changsha, and the Prince of Hejian?"
"In the past three years, the princes have rebelled time and again, and Luoyang has faced peril on several occasions. And the Princess? She wanted Your Majesty to retreat to the south of the river—to abandon Luoyang and preserve Jiankang."
"May I ask Your Majesty, can you go to Jiankang? That is a city built under the Wang family's direction, and their ambition to elevate the Prince of Langya to the throne is plain for all to see. Can Your Majesty truly go? What was the Princess's intention?"
Xie Jilian calmly analyzed the stakes, and gradually Sima Zhi steadied himself.
"Before the selection of the consort this time, Lingjia made a wager with Your Majesty—that the Princess would surely choose the Xie family over the Wang family. Now, Your Majesty should understand the full picture."
Sima Zhi nodded absently, his right hand reaching out from beneath the veiled hat to grip Xie Jilian's arm.
Beneath the light gauze, a youthful, boyish face flickered with fear.
"Yes, Lingjia is right."
Had he listened to his sister and gone south, she and the Wang family would have joined forces, and his throne would be lost. Staying by Lingjia's side was the safest choice.
He grabbed Xie Jilian with both hands, as if clutching at a lifeline.
"Lingjia, I appoint you Chief of the Imperial Secretariat. Stay with me, stay with me."
A flash of wild elation surged through his heart. Xie Jilian quietly steadied his breathing, his expression calm as still water. "Then… your servant humbly accepts."
Above the night sky, sparse stars gleamed like scattered drops of mercury splashed across the heavens. In the Red Jade Terrace, sprawling red camellias hung heavy from their branches, burning crimson blooms into the dark night.
Xu Qiaoxi stood beneath the flowering tree holding a plate of jasmine rolls. "Just have a little more."
Lu Yun had not expected to be tracked down even after hiding, and started in fright, clutching her stomach.
"I truly can't eat any more! You can't just become the young mistress and start tormenting us."
Lan Yan nodded with bitter resentment. "We've been eating with you all day. Can you spare us?"
"I…"
Xu Qiaoxi felt embarrassed herself, holding the jasmine rolls and stammering.
Xie Jilian had said she was now the mistress of the Red Jade Terrace and had the right to do anything she wished. For the first time in her life experiencing such a feeling, Xu Qiaoxi gleefully wielded her borrowed authority and issued her first "command":
"How many dishes and pastries can the Red Jade Terrace's small kitchen make? I want to taste them all."
But who could have imagined the small kitchen could produce three days of food without a single repeat! Delicacies flowed in endlessly like a stream. The first day she was overjoyed, the second day she forced herself, and the third day…
"I already told them to stop, but today's food simply can't be finished. What a waste."
These past few days, everyone throughout the Red Jade Terrace had received delicacies bestowed by the young mistress, and all praised her for being considerate to the servants. Only Lu Yun and Lan Yan knew the truth—she had stumbled into trouble by underestimating the Xie family's boundless resources.
"Just throw them away. What's there to feel sorry about? Do you think great aristocratic houses live as frugally as petty households?"
Lan Yan was mid-sentence when the person before her suddenly picked up the jasmine rolls and ran off.
"You're back!"
Xu Qiaoxi was overjoyed, holding the porcelain dish in both hands, offering it up like a treasured prize as she asked Xie Jilian.
"Would you like something to eat, my lord? Jasmine rolls—they're delicious."
Two ribbons hung from her hair bun, each tipped with a tiny bell that chimed crisply with her movements. Her crescent-moon eyes sparkled as she looked at him.
Under the night sky, she was breathtaking.
Xie Jilian had originally been out for a nighttime stroll to clear his mind, yet somehow he had wandered to Red Jade Terrace.
The unfamiliar word "love" flickered across Xie Jilian's heart.
He scorned the emotion called "love"—it was too scalding, too irrational.
He instinctively questioned whether keeping Xu Qiaoxi had been the right decision.
Though he did not love Xu Qiaoxi, nor ever would, women meant unpredictability.
He smiled faintly and pushed aside the jasmine rolls. "Lian never eats at night."
Xu Qiaoxi's disappointment was plain to see. She grumbled in frustration, "I've never once seen you eat. I thought maybe you'd have room for a bite…"
Just as she finished speaking, Wei Zhao's figure appeared behind them. He had been entangled by Wen Shuo all day and had only just returned.
"So the young lord is here with the young madam."
He gave Xu Qiaoxi a slight nod, then turned to Xie Jilian with a smile. "Beiyuan took a fall today. He claims it's your fault, my lord, and is making a fuss demanding compensation."
"Let him be."
"Indeed, he's always been one for mischief. However… the Wang family is returning from Langya."
"So soon?" Xie Jilian was mildly surprised.
It seemed some people's bodies were no longer in Luoyang, but their hearts remained there.
Having delivered the news, Wei Zhao said no more, standing quietly to the side awaiting Xie Jilian's response.
Suddenly, a plate of fragrant pastries appeared beside his face.
"Want one? They're really good."
Xu Qiaoxi looked at him with eager, earnest eyes, as if the pastries were a matter of the utmost importance.
Such an innocent expression entering his field of vision made Wei Zhao smile without realizing it. Under her gaze, he picked up a pastry. "Thank you, young madam."
Xu Qiaoxi beamed with joy, inwardly relieved. Conserving food was the DNA instilled in her by modern education—she simply couldn't adopt the extravagant habits of these aristocratic families.
Wei Zhao parted his lips slightly, but before the jasmine roll reached his mouth, his heart skipped a beat.
He turned his gaze. Beneath the great clusters of scarlet camellias, Xie Jilian sat in water-blue robes as bright as moonlight—impossible to ignore.
"My… my lord?"
Xie Jilian said nothing. His eyes lowered to half-lidded, his cold, still gaze fixed on the jasmine roll in Wei Zhao's hand.
Wei Zhao's wrist went rigid.
He dared not take a bite.