Living with Chu Linlang, full of fire and temper, had its flavor—but after long years, Zhou Sui’an felt something was missing. Only when he spent time with Miss Yin did he realize: what he lacked was the refined joy of a kindred spirit.
To Zhou Sui’an, exchanging poetry was not the same as romantic entanglement. Even if he occasionally corresponded with Miss Yin, it was only in verse—pure literary friendship, nothing more. As for the intentions of their elders, that was for them to decide; he considered his own heart upright and untainted. Yet explaining such lofty companionship to a woman unversed in letters was exhausting.
With that thought, his earlier guilt dissolved. He said sharply: “What do you mean by this? I am busy with official duties all day, cleaning up your messes besides. What leisure do you think I have for idle schemes?”
Chu Linlang’s heart sank. So it was not her mother‑in‑law’s idea—it was Zhou Sui’an himself, clinging to old affection, wishing to rekindle it!
Tears welled in her eyes. She glared at him in silence.
She was usually cold and proud, yet always smiling in daily life. Zhou Sui’an could not recall the last time she cried. Seeing her rare tears, his heart softened. He embraced her, patting her back: “It is only Mother renewing ties with an old friend. Why flare up so fiercely?”
But Chu Linlang looked into his eyes and said quietly: “Do you not know Mother’s intent? I went to the temple—the monk said my fate holds two sons and two daughters, enough to form two ‘good’ characters. I have even sought remedies to strengthen my body. Why are you so impatient? Can you not wait a little longer?”
Zhou Sui’an hated her superstitions. He grew impatient: “You should pity Mother. People constantly ask her about heirs; she is anxious, desperate. As for her plans, I will refuse them. But your attitude—just short of overturning the table—is intolerable!”
Years ago, his refusal would have filled her with joy. But after repeated failures to conceive, she heard the weariness in his voice.
She wiped her tears, steadied herself, and said firmly: “If Mother insists on taking a concubine for you, I cannot oppose it. But… it must not be Yin Xuefang.”
Zhou Sui’an frowned, baffled: “Miss Yin has done you no wrong. Why slander her?”
The family had already decided, keeping only her in the dark. He and Miss Yin exchanged letters, yet he asked what fault she found in the girl.
She was jealous, unable to bear seeing him share tender glances and poetry with another woman.
She snapped: “I thought it was only a chance reunion, Mother’s idea. But now it seems the Yin family is eager to find their daughter a match, pressing to renew ties. Tell me—if you two are so destined, why was there no outcome back then?”
Zhou Sui’an was startled. He was eight years older than Yin Xuefang. The families had once discussed a childhood betrothal, but when his father fell into disgrace, it was abandoned.
He said nothing, but Chu Linlang pressed on: “Was it not because your family fell into ruin, your father lost his post, and they avoided you? When I first married in, life was bitter, no visitors came. Now that you are a magistrate, suddenly they return. Is it because the Zhou family has risen enough to suit them? You bear no grudges? If you are so magnanimous, why do you still feud with Zhang Xian, refusing to bow your head?”
Her words stung. He recalled their hardships, the Yin family’s avoidance. Anger surged. He stood abruptly: “You may not be learned, but you should know reason. To be jealous over nothing, dragging in official matters—shameful! I will not argue. Tell Mother your nonsense. I am busy; tonight I sleep in the study!”
He strode out.
This was his way—never admitting fault. When cornered, he claimed gentlemanly dignity, retreating to the study. Later, she would have to humble herself to coax him back.
Chu Linlang did not stop him. She tossed aside her sewing, opened the window, and stuffed snow into her mouth.
Her maids, Xia He and Dongxue, returned from the kitchen. Xia He quickly wrapped her in a thick coat, scolding: “The wind is harsh. Don’t eat snow—you’ll fall ill. If you’re angry, I’ll make you orange soup to ease it. You’re grown, yet still eating snow!”
Chu Linlang leaned against her shoulder, murmuring, “I thought marriage would bring peace. But even now, after all my struggles, I am still bound by others. Xia He, am I too greedy, wanting too much?”
Xia He hugged her tightly: “Don’t think that way. We are far better off now. Remember, I was nearly married off to a cripple, until you bought me as your maid. Compared to that, this quarrel is nothing.”
Chu Linlang smiled faintly. Eating snow had cooled her anger. She said: “The study must be cold. Take a brazier to him, lest he freeze.”
Dongxue snorted: “He chose to sleep there with guests in the house, humiliating you. Let him freeze—it will teach him!”
Her bluntness made Chu Linlang laugh. She went herself to the study.
She told Zhou Sui’an, “With guests here, if you insist on shaming me, then write a divorce letter, and I will leave. Otherwise, return to our room—don’t waste a brazier.”
Zhou Sui’an, guilty, accepted her words. He followed her back, subdued.
That night, they lay back to back, silent, each nursing their anger.
The next day, Madam Zhao planned to formalize Yin Xuefang’s entry into the family. But Zhou Sui’an stopped her. She was shocked: “What is this? Did you not agree to take a concubine?”
He replied impatiently: “When did I agree? You decided yourself! I am busy with official duties. If you raise this, Linlang will suspect me with Miss Yin. Better not.”
Madam Zhao, furious, cried: “Even if the Emperor himself came, marriages cannot be stopped! She cannot bear children—will you end the Zhou line?”
Zhou Sui’an repeated Chu Linlang’s words: “If the Yin family valued me, why not before? They only return now that I hold office. I need no fair‑weather friends. Mother, do not press further.”
Madam Zhao, convinced that Chu Linlang had influenced him, snapped: “You know nothing! Yin’s family may be small, but their kin serve in the capital. Such ties would benefit you greatly!”
Zhou Sui’an, disdainful of nepotism, sighed: “Mother, you always quarrel with Linlang. She is from a salt merchant’s family, not bandits. Why scorn her? She said she will not oppose you taking a concubine. If you insist, she will choose one herself. The Zhou family will not die out.”
In truth, he invented this last part. His wife was far too jealous to ever say such a thing. But he hoped to pacify his mother, sparing himself further strife.