“No, no, I don’t want to!” Luo Xinci answered in a rush. She was startled to learn that Ming Yuhe had some sort of secret indulgence that kept him from marrying, and curious what kind it might be. But since it was something “unspeakable to outsiders,” she knew she must never find out.
Better to behave properly as an outsider—whatever his hobby was, it had nothing to do with her. Even if it doomed him to remain unmarried for life, she would not so much as glance his way.
Luo Xinci wanted no further entanglements with people irrelevant to her. “I was only speaking casually… Brother, look, the fish in the water are swimming so merrily!”
Ming Yuhe had succeeded in startling her, yet his mood did not improve. Following her words, he lowered his eyelids and noticed the willow branch she had dropped earlier floating on the water. Two golden-red carp circled it, nibbling at the leaves. He looked back at Luo Xinci, who was leaning against the willow tree to peer into the pond. A strand of hair slipped from her shoulder, swaying lightly in the breeze.
To him, she seemed as carefree and lively as the fish, having neatly sidestepped the dangerous topic.
His displeasure deepened. Coldly, he said: “Yes, very lively. I’ve been raising these fish for half a month. Once they’re fattened, I’ll gut them with my own hands.”
“…”
At last Luo Xinci realized his mood was foul. She dared not comfort him. Instead, she stole a glance at his reflection in the water, then straightened up properly and said, “Indeed, they must be delicious… Brother, I’m rather tired. I’d like to go back and rest.”
Ming Yuhe replied, “I’m tired too.”
“Then you should rest early.” Luo Xinci bowed respectfully, her voice soft. “Niansheng won’t disturb Brother further.”
After speaking with due courtesy, she glanced at him again. Seeing no objection, she retreated a few steps gracefully, then quickly made her way toward Yunshang Pavilion. Just as she stepped inside, she couldn’t help but turn back once more.
Ming Yuhe lifted his eyelids, his face still stern.
Her body froze. She gave a hurried nod, lifted her skirts, and ran inside. Her turn was too swift—her sleeve brushed against the crabapple blossoms by the moon gate, sending petals fluttering down.
Ming Yuhe stared at the swaying spring flowers for a moment, then turned away coldly and returned to Zhaixing Pavilion.
Inside the loft, a guard appeared, holding a register.
The two in Yunshang Pavilion thought themselves cautious, dividing tasks between them, yet every move lay exposed under Ming Yuhe’s eyes. Ever since he discovered Lianxing secretly inquiring about officials surnamed Wang in the capital, he had ordered his men to do the same.
Weighing the register in his hand, Ming Yuhe asked, “Is everything here?”
The guard replied, “Yes. The origins, exam records, political achievements, family ties, children—everything concerning all officials surnamed Wang in the capital has been copied from the archives. Not a word is false.”
Ming Yuhe’s mood finally eased a little.
Luo Xinci returned to Yunshang Pavilion and cautioned Lianxing: “These next two days, try not to leave Yunshang. Even if you must go out, avoid the young marquis. He seems to have taken offense somewhere and is looking for people to vent his anger on. We must both be careful.”
Lianxing agreed, then studied her mistress. “Miss, you look rather cheerful. Is there some happy news?”
Luo Xinci shared with her the scheme of “killing with a borrowed knife,” and the two of them laughed together.
After their brief merriment, Lianxing asked: “The young marquis said he has some shameful hobby. Miss, if we were to learn what it is, then should an accident ever occur, couldn’t we use that secret as a bargaining chip to protect ourselves?”
“No!” Lianxing’s casual suggestion drew a fierce rejection from Luo Xinci. “Don’t even think it, don’t even imagine it!”
She had witnessed Ming Yuhe kill a man. Even if the victim was not the true Marquis Wuling, it was still undeniably a human life.
If the two of them truly uncovered Ming Yuhe’s secret, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t silence them to keep it hidden. He had managed to kill that false marquis without a whisper of scandal; if he killed them, he would surely find a way to cover it up as well.
“Why?” Lianxing knew nothing of what had happened in the study. From her perspective, Marquis Wuling was either convalescing in the main courtyard or away from the estate, while Princess Shao’an confined herself to the Buddha hall and the southern wing. Both rarely appeared.
The one who most affected their lives was Ming Yuhe—sometimes making things difficult, sometimes offering guidance. He seemed cold and aloof, but could barely be counted as a decent person.
Lianxing felt Luo Xinci’s wariness and fear of him were excessive.
“There is no why.” Luo Xinci met her gaze, speaking earnestly. “For safety’s sake, there are things I cannot tell you. But you must remember—never, never provoke him!”
Seeing her mistress’s solemn expression, Lianxing gave a serious promise.
That afternoon, the two of them stayed shut inside Yunshang Residence, drafting a letter to Ming Niansheng. They spent hours pondering how to send it out without anyone noticing.
By evening, the maids arrived carrying many scrolls of paintings, saying they had been sent by Ming Yuhe.
“The young marquis asks that you look them over first, Miss.”
Luo Xinci had no idea what he was up to now. She casually picked up a scroll and unrolled it, only to find a portrait of a young man. Beneath it were several lines of text: this was the second son of Minister Yang, nineteen years old, one of four siblings, handsome in appearance but lacking decisiveness in his actions, and so forth.
Flipping through a few more scrolls, Luo Xinci confirmed they were all portraits of promising young men in the capital, each with a brief introduction. She couldn’t help feeling embarrassed. But when she saw one with the surname Wang, she accepted it without the slightest shame.
Once the maids had withdrawn, Lianxing remarked: “As the legitimate elder brother, to treat a concubine-born sister this way—the young marquis is rather decent, isn’t he?”
Luo Xinci hesitated, then sighed softly: “Indeed. To help his sister gather the finest gentlemen of the capital, he’s giving his full support…”
First, he kept Zhou Yi in reserve. Then he sent her background information on other candidates, and later he would personally escort his “sister” to the drill ground to make her choice. Truly, a brother who indulges his sister!
“Miss, I still don’t understand…” Lianxing leaned closer, lowering her voice with a conspiratorial air. “The young marquis said his hobby prevents him from marrying… Could it be that he… well, can’t perform?”
Luo Xinci blushed and whispered: “Surely not. He said it was a hobby, not an illness.”
“A hobby… a hobby that hinders marriage—what could it be?”
Luo Xinci thought for a moment, then guessed: “Perhaps he likes the smell of stinky feet. If his bedmate found out, it would be far too humiliating?”
Lianxing: “Ah?”
After days of tension, Luo Xinci finally relaxed. Since they had already spoken so much, she sat up and shared a story with Lianxing. She had been fatherless since birth, and with her beauty, her uncle constantly worried she might be lured away by sweet words. He never allowed her too much contact with outsiders, especially men. As a child, she occasionally played with neighborhood boys, but after the age of ten, the only men she could interact with were her uncle and her cousin. Her cousin, Luo Yizhou, was six years older. Most of the time he disliked having a little girl tagging along—except when he needed to use her.
When Luo Yizhou was seventeen, a matchmaker came with a proposal. The whole family was pleased, but he disliked the girl.
To sabotage the marriage, he asked Luo Xinci to say a few things in front of her: “Just pretend to complain that I always keep embroidered handkerchiefs hidden on me, secretly apply rouge and powder, and even once wore your embroidered shoes.”
Luo Xinci was horrified. “Brother, you wore my embroidered shoes? Which pair?”
“Do you think I could fit into them?”
When she pressed further, Luo Yizhou snapped impatiently: “You silly girl, why ask so much? Five taels of silver, and I’ll take you outside the city to fly kites later. Just repeat those words to her, all right?”
The bargain was struck. Later, when Luo Xinci accompanied her mother and aunt to visit the other family’s womenfolk, she secretly whispered those words to the young lady behind the elders’ backs. She no longer remembered the girl’s exact reaction—only that the marriage fell through, and both she and her cousin were severely scolded by the family.
Afterward, Luo Xinci kept brooding over the pair of embroidered shoes her cousin had supposedly worn. She pestered Luo Yizhou with endless questions until he grew impatient.
“I never wore them! I only pretended to like dressing as a girl. What woman could accept a husband who wears her clothes, powders his face, and looks more like a lady than she does? Could you?”
Of course she could not.
At that age, Luo Xinci was still young and curious. “Do such people really exist?” she asked.
“You’ve seen too little,” Luo Yizhou replied. “Let me tell you, the world is full of oddities. Remember Peng Shen, who plays polo with me? He’s peculiar—he loves the smell of sweat and stinky feet. He refuses to wash his undershirts and socks, stuffs them under his bedding for seven or eight days, savoring the stench…”
“Ugh—!” Luo Xinci covered her nose in disgust.
Her cousin continued: “Don’t scoff. I’ve heard some men look respectable in public but secretly enjoy being beaten and scolded by their bedmates. Some bright young girls of sixteen or seventeen prefer serving decrepit old men. As for the ‘cut sleeve’ habit, that’s well known—but I’ve even heard of people who get excited over pigs, dogs, chickens, or ducks…”
Luo Xinci’s eyes widened. “Excited over pigs and dogs—how?”
“Cough! Nothing. I only mean to say the world is vast and full of strange folk.” He quickly changed the subject. “By the way, lend me some silver. I’ll pay you back next month…”
Hearing all this, Lianxing was astonished. “I’ve heard of the cut sleeve, but the rest—unheard of! Do such people truly exist? It’s far too…” She trailed off, unable to find the right word.
“They do,” Luo Xinci insisted. “That Peng Shen even wanted to propose to me once. My cousin said whoever married him would stink for the rest of her life. He wouldn’t even let him in the door—beat him and drove him out.”
“Third Young Master Peng looks rather delicate. Hard to imagine he has such bizarre tastes.”
“This is nothing,” Luo Xinci said. “Look at Ming Yuhe—he’s destined to inherit the marquisate, yet even he has a shameful hobby.”
“True,” Lianxing sighed. “People really cannot be judged by appearances…”
Their chatter ended. Lianxing went back to examining the portraits, while Luo Xinci, after speaking, found herself strangely picturing Ming Yuhe at a mirror, coyly applying rouge and powder.
The image made her shudder. She silently thanked heaven she did not know what his true hobby was, and forced the unsettling vision from her mind, turning her focus back to serious matters.