"Apologize."
Wang Yizhi's cold brows angled sharply as he stood motionless before Wen Shuo.
A disciple of the great contemporary scholar Kong Jing, he commanded considerable prestige among the young men of noble families despite his youth.
Wen Shuo, still nursing his resentment over Xie Jilian's fall and knowing full well the covert rivalry between the Xie and Wang families, had merely sought a bit of amusement. But now, seeing Wang Yizhi like this, a tremor of fear ran through him.
Rubbing his aching brow, he softened his voice toward Xu Qiaoxi: "Young mistress…"
Smack.
A slap landed across Wen Shuo's face.
Her fingertips scraped across his cheek, leaving two faint lines of blood.
Wen Shuo's gaze went blank, the world before him losing color before returning to it. The veiled young mistress glared at him with hatred, her striking hand hanging at her side, trembling slightly.
"You struck me… What standing do you have to dare touch this young master?!"
Wen Shuo had been pampered since childhood, yet now a woman had slapped him. Fury surged through his heart as he raised his hand to lash out at Xu Qiaoxi.
"Enough."
The force of his swing died as a hand seized Wen Shuo's wrist.
Wang Yizhi stared at Wen Shuo, his deep voice laced with anger. "A proper son of the Wen clan, about to brawl with a young lady? If Situ Wen were to learn of this, he would surely confine you to the ancestral hall for three months."
Wen Shuo wrenched himself free from Wang Yizhi. "Don't use my father to pressure me! Did you not just see her strike me?!"
The two faced off, neither yielding an inch, when suddenly a long whistle from beyond the pavilion interrupted them.
The three in the pavilion turned to look. Xie Jilian approached from the distance, smiling. "Wasn't Beiyuan supposed to be hosting a welcome feast for Yizhi? How has it turned into a quarrel?"
"Lingjia, you've come at the right time! You be the judge!"
Wen Shuo hurried over and grabbed Xie Jilian by the arm, his fury nearly setting his brows ablaze.
"This young mistress of yours just slapped me—look!" He panted, turning his cheek to display the clear handprint and nail marks left by Xu Qiaoxi.
Xie Jilian glanced at him, then slowly shifted his gaze to Xu Qiaoxi. He said nothing, simply waiting for her to speak for herself.
"I…"
The moment she opened her mouth, it felt as though countless needles pricked the tip of her nose—painful and unbearable.
That man had started it all anyway! He'd grabbed her and refused to let her go—why should a mere apology settle it?
Xu Qiaoxi pressed her lips together, swallowing the grievance lodged deep in her throat.
The more she wanted to cry, the less she could. She had stood up for herself—why should she weep?
"I did hit him."
"You—!" Wen Shuo had never encountered a woman who struck someone and remained so unrepentant. Furious, he pointed at Xu Qiaoxi's nose and cursed: "You insolent little wench—ouch!! Let go! Lingjia!"
Xie Jilian seized Wen Shuo's pointing finger and bent it backward, paying no heed to Wen Shuo's face contorting in agony.
Only when the joints of that finger emitted a clear cracking sound did Xie Jilian say, as calmly as drifting clouds: "To curse a man's concubine—is that not the same as slapping Lian's face?"
"It's going to break!"
Xie Jilian excelled at archery, and his grip was immense. Wen Shuo could not pry his hand free no matter how he struggled, so he clawed at Xie Jilian's wrist, trying to counter pain with pain.
But Xie Jilian did not even spare him a glance, turning instead to Wang Yizhi beside him.
"My young mistress is kind and gentle, her courage smaller than a bird's. She has never been a savage or violent person. If she acted today, it must be because she suffered some grievance and had no other choice. What say you, Yizhi?"
"Yes, yes! Wang Yi—Wang Yizhi! You saw it all clearly—you tell him!"
Wen Shuo, drenched in sweat, cast a desperate look at Wang Yizhi.
Cough, cough.
The horsetail whisk swayed lightly before his chest, Wang Yizhi's sideburns drifting in the breeze as he looked toward Xu Qiaoxi at the corner of the pavilion.
"Beiyuan was unruly and disrespectful toward the young mistress. She struck out only because her anger got the better of her."
"Hey—that's not what I asked you to say! Ouch—!"
Xie Jilian's grip tightened further, and Wen Shuo's finger turned purple-black from the root.
"Wen Shuo, if there is a next time, you can say goodbye to this finger."
Xie Jilian's tone was flat, yet his words carried the weight of a thousand jun. Goosebumps rose across Wen Shuo's body as he clutched his finger, watching the two of them leave.
"Wang Yizhi! You sided with her instead of me?!"
He vented all his anger on Wang Yizhi, but Wang Yizhi merely shrugged.
"You think glossing over the details would have gotten you off the hook?"
The whisk tapped Wen Shuo's head, then pointed toward the area beyond the pavilion.
"He was standing under that pine tree the whole time, watching over the young mistress. If I had dared to conceal even a sliver of the truth, your finger wouldn't have waited for a 'next time' to be broken."
"What?!"
Wen Shuo was secretly shaken.
This Xie Lingjia… wasn't she just a lowly concubine? And he treasured her like some precious jewel.
"Furthermore, I have no intention of covering for you."
Wang Yizhi's voice turned suddenly cold, his bearing as imposing as if Master Kong Jing himself were alive and present.
"If I were to mete out the punishment, you would enter Baojia Temple for six months of cultivation, not permitted a single step outside."
Xie Jilian gently guided Xu Qiaoxi by the arm toward a lively stream nearby.
Beneath towering ancient trees, the shade offered cool respite. Many young men of noble families sat before low tables, drinking and conversing merrily, with occasional shafts of sunlight slipping through the branches to land on their shoulders and knees like butterflies of light.
"That's where you hold your Pure Conversation sessions, isn't it? I won't go over there."
Xu Qiaoxi was about to withdraw her arm when Xie Jilian suddenly tightened his grip.
The soft flesh pressed against his palm through layers of gauze, and with just a little more force, her fullness would spill through his fingers.
A subtle yielding, a silent submission. Even Xu Qiaoxi herself didn't realize it.
He waited beneath the pine tree for no other reason. Wen Shuo had gone to fetch Wang Yizhi, and he needed to get a distant look at his old rival. If Wang the Second showed even the slightest sign of decline, he would gain the upper hand at this gathering.
The schemes that sons of noble houses could never speak aloud—this was how they had sharpened themselves against each other for years.
But unexpectedly, it was Xu Qiaoxi who opened his eyes.
When that slap landed, Xie Jilian even forgot his displeasure over wearing the same outfit as Wang Yizhi.
Such a stubborn, fiery, soft-hearted, and naive little thing—Xie Jilian was utterly pleased.
She was the most interesting bird he kept in the spring waters of Qianting. In all of Luoyang, only he could possess her.
"If you don't go over, how will they know that Qiaoxi is someone Jilian cherishes?"
Xu Qiaoxi was startled and dared not react for a moment.
"I—I hit someone, and he's still the son of the Minister of Education. You don't blame me?"
Xie Jilian smiled. "Beiyuan, well, he deserved to suffer a lesson long ago."
"Rather, it's Lian who failed."
"Failed at what?"
"Making Qiaoxi a concubine yet failing to protect you—that is not the conduct of a gentleman."
Xie Jilian checked that her veiled hat properly concealed her face, then took her arm and led her toward the stream, introducing her to the young men who bowed in greeting as his newly taken young lady.
After they took their seats, through the white veil, Xu Qiaoxi faintly overheard people whispering.
"Lord Xie is…"
"Where is it acceptable to have a woman at Pure Conversation?"
"Even the principal wife would be pushing it—a concubine?"
"Rumors from days ago said Lord Xie was bewitched by some demon. Could it be this young lady?"
…
Xu Qiaoxi sat as if on a bed of needles.
These men talked so much! They heard a gust of wind and took it for rain—pah!
With every remark she overheard, she cursed back in her heart, when suddenly a figure appeared before her veil.
He bent down, leaning close to her, and said with a strange laugh, "The young lady sits beside Lingjia—surely you understand Pure Conversation as well?"
Wen Shuo!
Could he not survive without stirring up trouble?
Xu Qiaoxi rolled her eyes beneath her hat and made no sound.
Today he was the host, and she had already provoked him once—she shouldn't act rashly again.
Hold it in, hold it in…
"Beiyuan may test her and see."
Hm?
Xu Qiaoxi, Wen Shuo, and everyone present all looked at Xie Jilian, who had suddenly spoken.
The white jade chowrie whisk in his hand shimmered with light as he gently fanned Qiaoxi.
He was being her backing.
Xu Qiaoxi didn't understand Pure Conversation, but Xie Jilian did. No matter how she answered or argued, he could cover for her.
Wen Shuo saw that Xie Jilian was still protecting her and immediately lost interest.
But since he, as the host, had raised the topic, he couldn't simply drop it. He crossed his arms and reluctantly opened the debate.
So-called Pure Conversation was how renowned scholars studied the classics of the Mystic Way through dialogue and debate—philosophy and learning. It was the pinnacle exhibition of talent and wisdom in this era, and absolutely impossible to bluff through.
Xu Qiaoxi's heart was in turmoil, prepared to pinch Xie Jilian's thigh if she couldn't answer.
"Last time we debated the Zhuangzi, the question of 'the finger never reaches; the reaching never ends' remained unanswered. I wonder what insights the young lady might offer?"
Wen Shuo stood with folded arms, waiting to see whether this young woman who had left such a "deep impression" on him would beg for mercy from him or plead for help from Xie Jilian.
Yet, those delicate hands trembled as they lifted the white veil of her hat, revealing a clear, sweet, smiling face. Her voice could barely contain her excitement and surprise:
"You're asking me this? Then listen well!"
"Language has two levels. One is the physical substance of sound and writing—this is the 'reaching.' The other is the abstract reference of meaning—this is the 'finger.'"
"'The finger never reaches' means that the abstract reference has no inherent connection to the words themselves—it comes only from human convention. 'The reaching never ends' means that language itself is infinitely changeable and can encompass endless things."
Xu Qiaoxi's eyes sparkled, as if filled with countless tiny stars.
She lifted her face, proudly removed her veiled hat, and stood openly before Wen Shuo.
"Did you understand? If Lord Wen didn't understand, I can teach you again."
"You…" Wen Shuo's heart raced as he listened to her exposition.
Xu Qiaoxi stood in the shade of the trees, a patch of sunlight brushing past her brows and eyes, making her radiant and lively. Wen Shuo's gaze fixed on her and simply couldn't look away.
"How—how did you come up with this?"
Xu Qiaoxi curved her lips in a smile, sat down smugly, and paid Wen Shuo no further attention.
With all those classics in the world, you just had to ask about the distinction between words and meaning. She didn't understand the Zhuangzi—but Wen Shuo, you don't understand Saussure and Chomsky either!
Xu Qiaoxi smoothed her veiled hat on her lap, leaving the group of men staring at her in shock.
Xie Jilian was the first to recover, helping her put her hat back on. Wen Shuo stood frozen before their table, refusing to leave. Wang Yizhi sat across the stream, directly facing Xie Jilian, his gaze fixed on Xu Qiaoxi as he tossed three coins in his hand.
"Lower Kan, upper Dui… this is the hexagram 'Kun'—Entrapment."