After Wen Shuo arranged a Pure Conversation gathering, he always kept his guests for drinking afterward—never letting anyone leave until they were stumbling against the walls.
But Xu Qiaoxi had truly locked horns with him this time. The moment she heard Wen Shuo calling for drinks, her brow furrowed like paper soaked in water, as if staying here another moment would send gray-green mold creeping up her cheeks.
Just as she was growing restless, Xie Jilian's index finger and thumb gently tugged at her sleeve.
Xu Qiaoxi looked over. Xie Jilian curved his lips into a smile at her, loosely and lightly taking her fingertips, then rose and said to Wen Shuo: "Let us pause the drinking for now. My young wife is feeling unwell. Lian will escort her back to the residence."
Xie Jilian paid no heed to anyone, leading Xu Qiaoxi straight down the mountain.
Once far from those aristocratic nobles, Xu Qiaoxi finally let out a long breath. She lifted her veil and tilted her face up, letting Xie Jilian lead her while she closed her eyes, feeling sunlight pass through the treetops, alternating with shadow flowing across her cheeks—slightly ticklish, and a little warm.
"Qiaoxi."
Xie Jilian suddenly called her name.
"Hm?"
Xu Qiaoxi opened her eyes, her dense lashes catching a few specks of floating dust.
"Thank you."
"Ah? …For what?"
Aside from slapping Wen Shuo today and making a bit of a splash at the Pure Conversation, had she done anything else?
Xie Jilian looked over with smiling eyes, catching her bewildered gaze.
Occasional crisp birdsong drifted through the grove. On the empty path, only the two of them stood, their shoulders overlapping in the shallow shadows behind them.
Xu Qiaoxi clearly saw an unusual joy flickering in the depths of Xie Jilian's eyes.
Or rather—excitement.
Xie Jilian did not answer quickly. Instead, with keen interest, he withdrew his gaze and, mimicking her gesture from just now, tilted his face up to feel the light and shadow among the branches.
His handsome brow cast a thin shadow, framing those eyes clear as glass.
The joy and excitement in his gaze were silently devoured, leaving only a haze of gloom.
The smile still lingered at the corners of Xie Jilian's lips.
"Thank you for everything you did today."
"Lian is very pleased."
Pleased?
Xu Qiaoxi blinked, her heart as if touched by a dragonfly skimming water, ripples spreading layer upon layer.
She understood.
"So you wanted someone by your side who isn't gentle and submissive, and isn't like Gui Rulan?"
The smile at the corners of Xie Jilian's lips deepened. He lowered his head and nodded at her.
If she were merely a lamb-like young wife, she could never suppress those who harbored ambitions to attach themselves to Xie Jilian—or rather, to the Xie family.
But what Xu Qiaoxi had done today hit the mark by sheer accident, letting everyone know that Young Master Xie had a sharp-tongued, fierce, and unruly little wife. The atmosphere of the inner quarters suddenly grew complicated, and any noble family considering marrying their daughter to him would think twice before proceeding.
"Lian would like to ask—would Qiaoxi be willing to play the role of a fierce 'jealous wife' for one year?"
"Then after a year, you'll conveniently divorce me, right?"
Xu Qiaoxi clasped her hands behind her back, looking utterly composed as she eyed him sidelong.
This Xie Jilian—he had calculated everything.
But then again, if he truly made her a resentful concubine confined to the Red Jade Terrace, Xu Qiaoxi would be bored to death within days. This way, she could simply be herself and everything would be fine.
After all, even if the sky fell, Xie Jilian would hold it up.
Xu Qiaoxi extended her palm happily, fingers pressed together. "You said it yourself—clap hands as a pact."
Her hand was well-proportioned in its fingers, with slightly upturned tips, carrying a quiet, delicate elegance.
Xie Jilian reached out his right hand. His was much larger than hers—pale and slender, with prominent knuckles and calluses at the joints from years of archery.
As he struck that delicate little hand vertically and lightly, his fingertips curved slightly downward, a subtle intent lingering at the tip of his heart.
Their palms touched and parted in an instant. Xu Qiaoxi suddenly remembered something, her tone turning lively: "Oh, right—did you find a way for me to get home?"
Xie Jilian's clapping hand froze for a moment, then quickly recovered, falling gracefully to his side.
"Affairs have been numerous lately; I forgot for the moment. Qiaoxi won't blame Lian, will she?"
"Oh…"
Xu Qiaoxi's disappointment was visible to the naked eye, but the next instant she smiled faintly and shook her head: "It's fine. You're newly appointed, so you really are busy. Help me after this busy stretch—just don't forget again."
Xie Jilian nodded in agreement, escorting her all the way to the entrance of the Chujia Villa, watching her board the carriage.
Suddenly, the carriage curtain stirred, and Xu Qiaoxi poked her head out, beckoning to Xie Jilian.
"Don't drink too much, and don't take Five Minerals Powder either."
Xie Jilian hadn't expected her to still be thinking about that. He laughed involuntarily, a little helplessly: "Alright, Lian promises."
The carriage swayed into the distance. Xie Jilian lowered his gaze to the palm that had sworn the pact with her.
Just now, he had curled his fingers to measure—capturing her would be effortless.
That pale, delicate little hand, like a bird folding its wings, had lingered in his palm for but a moment.
Fun.
Soft words and a hint of vulnerability—turned into silken threads to bind her limbs.
Xie Jilian clenched his fist, as if Xu Qiaoxi were being snuffed out between his fingers.
The dead sparrow by the Tai Pond when he was ten years old flew back into his hand.
A gift from heaven itself.
He had no intention whatsoever of letting Xu Qiaoxi find a way home.
Xie Jilian turned and walked slowly toward the rear mountain of the Chujia Villa.
Before long, a figure came rushing down the mountain path.
"Lingjia! Why did you walk so fast? You've worn out my newly healed legs."
Wen Shuo leaned against a tree, hands on his hips, grinning and panting heavily, half reproachful and half ingratiating toward Xie Jilian.
"Not blaming me for hurting you?"
"We're childhood friends! When has Wen Beiyuan ever been petty?" He extended his index finger and flexed it nimbly, grinning. "See, it's not broken. I know Lingjia held back."
Xie Jilian gave him a faint glance and continued slowly up the mountain.
Wen Shuo caught up, making idle conversation with him.
After four or five attempts, Xie Jilian grew impatient and cut to the point: "If you have something to say, say it directly."
Wen Shuo grinned wide, crossed his arms, and bumped Xie Jilian's shoulder with his own.
"Let me borrow your little wife for a few days."
As if worried Xie Jilian might refuse, Wen Shuo emphasized: "I really do like her! Any of my twenty-three concubines—take whichever one you fancy."
Exchanging or gifting concubines was commonplace among aristocratic young men; sometimes favors were even repaid with concubine trades. Wen Shuo felt that given his friendship with Xie Jilian, there was no way he'd refuse.
But to his surprise, Xie Jilian fell silent, his striking brows and eyes half-lowered for a long moment.
"You like her?"
"Why?"
His voice was cold as night water, drifting faintly through the forest wind.
What exactly was "like"?
Xu Qiaoxi was interesting because she echoed that long-unquenched destructive urge within Xie Jilian's heart. She also had a somewhat frightening talent—she could always surprise him in unexpected ways.
She stirred his dark amusement.
And Wen Shuo? They'd barely had their first encounter, and he already liked her? Was it romantic affection? So fierce and swift, so unreasonable?
Xie Jilian couldn't fathom it.
He had never felt romantic love for any woman—it was the most useless, most tedious emotion under heaven.
When Wen Shuo heard the question, he grew shy—a rarity for him—and touched his slapped cheek, feeling the faint nail marks Xu Qiaoxi had left behind.
He laughed. "It's just… just a feeling."
"Every move she makes, my chest goes all tingly."
Wen Shuo had indeed been angry when slapped earlier—no one had ever dared provoke him like that—but watching Xu Qiaoxi's retreating figure, the pain on his face had somehow turned to numbness, and touching it sent an itch straight to his heart.
She was already sitting beside Xie Jilian, yet whenever he saw her, he couldn't help but approach, eagerly asking if she understood Pure Conversation, as if terrified she might truly ignore him.
"Ah, Lingjia… I beg you, do me this favor. Just let me borrow her for two days, and I'll go to Baojia Temple tomorrow to light an oil lamp and pray for you." Wen Shuo dragged out his words, pleading with bitter earnestness.
He was sincere, but to Xie Jilian, he looked like a dog wagging its tail for mercy.
Ears drooping, panting with tongue lolling, drool spilling.
Xie Jilian sneered inwardly, then heard Wang Yizhi's voice drifting over.
"If Lingjia has nothing pressing, why not visit Yi's Qingzhou estate? Yi happens to have important matters to discuss with you."
Though Qingzhou estate was called "small," it was a humble name meant to convey lofty refinement; its luxury and grandeur rivaled Xie Jilian's Qianchuan Chunting.
By the pond, lush spring willows flourished like clouds, verdant vitality billowing thickly, piling into green mist beneath the clear sky—a refreshing sight for the soul.
Beneath the hall eaves, Wang Yizhi sat across from Xie Jilian and laid out three coins on the table.
"Did Lingjia consult the divination for this marriage when you took your concubine? Or seek Prophetic Apocrypha?"
Xie Jilian was surprised—Wang Yizhi was never one for gossip.
"This is the important matter Yizhi wished to discuss?"
Wang Yizhi shook his head. "This is your important matter."
He raised a finger and tapped the coins. "I cast a hexagram with the Art of I Ching regarding your young wife's marriage fate. Do you know the result?"
His lips moved, and Wang Yizhi uttered a single word: "'Kun.'"
"The primary hexagram is 'Kun' (Oppression), and the changing hexagram is 'Daguo' (Great Exceeding)." His brows furrowed. "I have never seen such an ominous divination—almost no path leads to survival…"
Xie Jilian had initially paid little attention to Wang Yizhi's actions, but upon hearing the hexagram, his heartbeat skipped a beat.
It was indeed an extremely inauspicious reading.
It indicated that Xu Qiaoxi's marriage fate was beset with hardship, even heading toward mutual destruction—an irredeemable dead end.
But what did that have to do with him?
They were a fake couple; no matter how dire her hexagram, it shouldn't apply to him.
Xie Jilian smiled lightly and said calmly: "Lian has never believed in ghosts, gods, or Prophetic Apocrypha. The I Ching is merely a guide for a gentleman's conduct—how could it determine one's fate?"
"Lian's bond with his beloved concubine is firm as metal; we fear no external omens. Rather, it is Yizhi who takes winning and losing too much to heart."
Impervious to persuasion.
Wang Yizhi sighed inwardly, picked up the coins from the table, and said, "Your young wife is innocent and naive—she cannot bear the role of the Xie family's matriarch. You will not come to love her."
The air grew heavy. Xie Jilian raised his eyes to meet Wang Yizhi's gaze.
The two of them each bore their family's glory, locked in covert struggle for decades—yet it was precisely this entanglement that made the other utterly transparent to them, as if gazing into a mirror at oneself.
After a cup of tea, Xie Jilian left.
Wang Yizhi turned his gaze to the green willows by the pond. Two orioles darted among the willow strands, singing crisply, delighting in their own amusement.
"Brother."
A voice came from beside him—sweet and soft, surpassing the orioles' song.
Wang Yizhi leaned his elbow on the armrest, slumping sideways, finally releasing the tension he'd held before Xie Jilian.
"Seeing him, is your heart content?"
A girl with delicate features bowed her head quietly, her beautiful neck like a flower stem supporting her lustrous hair and cloud-like tresses. The golden and jade hair ornaments swayed gently with her lowered head, casting fleeting glimmers across her jade-like cheeks.
Wang Yizhi looked at his younger sister and rubbed his forehead in frustration.
Of all the people she could fancy, why did it have to be Xie Jilian?
She hadn't seen him for just three months, and already she wanted to go with Wang Yizhi to Chu Jia Bie Yuan.
Which noble lady would show her face before a man like that?
Wang Yizhi only felt his sister growing harder to manage. Only after he promised to definitely invite Xie Jilian to their home did the girl finally settle down.
"Brother Lingjia is still the same as before, but also not quite the same."
Wang Mu'ai spoke with melancholy, a sour ache rising in her heart.
The Wang and Xie families stood on opposing sides, and Brother Lingjia never spoke of marriage or children. Even though Wang Mu'ai had admired this ethereal young master Xie since childhood, she knew she had little chance. All she could do was cling to her maiden's heart, hoping to see him a few more times.
Who would have thought that Princess Xincheng would die unexpectedly, throwing Luoyang into turmoil? The family seemed to have plans to court the Xie family, and several of her uncles had relented, allowing Wang Mu'ai to have more contact with Xie Jilian.
Now that he had taken a young wife, did that prove he was finally open to starting a family?
Wang Mu'ai's feelings toward that young mistress she had never met were quite complicated. She was both delighted that this person's appearance had broken through Brother Lingjia's cold detachment, and unable to stop herself from speculating about her—sometimes feeling that she far surpassed her, sometimes feeling that she herself was superior.
"Brother, was the divination you cast for the young mistress truly so ominous? Or did you fabricate an excuse to coax Brother Lingjia into coming over?"
Wang Yizhi flicked his sister's forehead, adorned with her slanted rouge crescent makeup, and laughed in exasperation: "Only you would dare slander your own brother like this."
Their elder brother of the same mother had died early, so Wang Yizhi, as the second legitimate son, had to shoulder the responsibilities of an eldest brother from a young age. Only in front of his sister could he breathe a little easier.
Wang Mu'ai smiled sweetly, wrapping her arms around her brother's and leaning gently against his shoulder.
"In a few days, you can go to Qianchuan Chunting to see that young mistress. Since you want to marry into the Xie family, getting more exposure to her can't hurt."
Though Wang Yizhi was displeased that his sister fancied Xie Jilian, upon reflection, Xie Jilian was indeed one of the more refined and untainted figures among the noble sons who kept concubines and mistresses.
"Brother, did you see that young mistress today? What kind of person is she?"
Wang Yizhi caught the scent of floral oil from his sister's hair and recalled Xu Qiaoxi's proud expression as she spoke eloquently by the creek.
Her plain, gentle features were nonetheless radiant and dazzling.
He was just about to describe Xu Qiaoxi's quick wit and excellence when Wen Shuo's swollen face flashed through his mind. The words of praise turned into a stifled laugh at his lips.
"You'll know when you see her."