At the mention of her son, Mrs. Cui sighed, her face lined with worry once more. “He caught a violent chill after getting soaked in that heavy rain last night, and he’s been burning with fever ever since. Even after taking his herbal broth just now, there hasn’t been any sign of improvement.”
To make matters worse, he had not eaten a single bite of the food carried into his room.
A wave of unease churned in Lin Yuhe’s chest. Still, hearing Xie Shuhuai’s occasional coughing fits through the wall, she found herself standing by her wooden window, overcome with anxiety. She longed to step into his room to check on him, but at the thought of his terrifying, icy glare, her courage failed her.
The rain continued to pour straight through the middle of the night before finally tapering off.
By the next day, the skies cleared up a bit. Yet Shuhuai’s fever showed no signs of breaking. Mrs. Cui woke him up to drink his medicine, but the tray of food she brought in remained completely untouched.
As Yuhe sat in her room combing Little Yun’s hair into a neat topknot, the familiar sound of her sister-in-law’s voice drifted in from the courtyard.
Lady Wu entered carrying a heavy, brimming basket. Mrs. Cui hurried out to welcome her inside, saying warmly, “Mingxiu, my dear, it’s enough that you came to visit! Bringing so many heavy gifts every single time makes your Aunt Cui feel truly guilty.”
“Aunt Cui, we’re all family—there’s no need for such formality,” Lady Wu replied pleasantly. “Besides, I must trouble you to keep looking after my little sister.”
Yesterday had been young Xing’er’s birthday, but Yuhe had been unable to attend. Lin Yuping had nagged endlessly about her absence, so when Lady Wu suggested bringing over some treats for Yuhe, he had naturally been thrilled. She had brought along half an undressed chicken, half a cut of raw pork, and a generous tray of freshly wrapped meat pies.
The moment she stepped into the west room, however, Lady Wu caught sight of the raw, bruised wound on Yuhe’s forehead, instantly realizing something was amiss. When she probed for answers, Yuhe hesitated, reluctant to say much. It was Little Yun who chimed in, blabbing that Yuhe had suffered a bad fall the night before.
Lady Wu gasped in lingering fear, repeatedly cautioning Yuhe to be infinitely more careful in the future.
Afterward, Lady Wu coaxed Little Yun out of the room with a piece of osmanthus candy. Leaning in close to Yuhe, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Little Sister, Young Master Min came to our shop two days ago demanding to see you. Your brother turned him away on the spot, but looking at his demeanor, he won’t give up so easily. It’s for the best that you stay home and rest these next couple of days—if you happen to run into him and someone catches sight of it, rumors will fly.”
Yuhe looked up in confusion. “Didn’t Brother return the betrothal gifts to the Min family? What more could he possibly want?”
Lady Wu was equally bewildered. “We have no idea what his motives are either, but it’s best to avoid him at all costs. Your brother asked me to visit today specifically so I could warn you about this.”
Since she was busy with her own errands, Lady Wu took her leave shortly after delivering the warning.
Yuhe felt a fresh layer of anxiety settle over her heart. In the past, though she and Min Zheyuan had been formally betrothed, they had rarely met in private, and every encounter had been strictly supervised by Concubine Qu. She had a clear conscience and nothing to hide, but she still had to guard against any sinister traps he might set. Her sister-in-law was right—avoiding him altogether was the safest course of action.
Not long after Lady Wu departed, the loud, aggressive barking of Momo echoed from the yard. Judging by the dog’s sharp tone, an unwelcomed guest had arrived at the Xie household.
Sure enough, Yuhe soon heard Mrs. Cui’s displeased voice ring out in the yard. “Village Chief, to what do we owe the honor of your visit?”
In Hongye Village, it was not just the common villagers who went out of their way to make life difficult for the Xie family; the Village Chief himself constantly picked fights with them.
“The village ancestral hall is due for a complete renovation,” the Chief declared pompously. “Every household is required to contribute silver.”
The ancestral hall was perfectly sturdy; what was there to renovate? Yuhe immediately deduced that since his family was preparing to marry off their youngest son, they needed extra silver and had invented this exact pretext to extort the locals.
Mrs. Cui’s face darkened with anger. “How much are we expected to pay?”
“Other families are contributing five hundred copper coins,” the Chief replied smoothly, an ugly sneer playing on his lips. “But as outsiders, your household must pay one tael of silver. If any family refuses to pay, their access to the village water supply will be cut off completely.”
He added casually before turning to strut away, “I’ll return in two days to collect. Mind that you have it ready by then.”
There was only one main deep-water well in the entire village, serving as the sole source of water for all twenty to thirty households. It was over a century old, providing sweet, clear water that never ran dry even during severe droughts.
Mrs. Cui seethed with helpless rage. They could endure other forms of harassment, but water was a matter of basic survival. Every time the Village Chief held a family event, he exploited his authority to squeeze money out of the villagers—and targeted their household worst of all.
Despair lined Mrs. Cui’s face. She was long accustomed to relying on Xie Shuhuai to make decisions during crises, leaving her utterly lost now that he was bedridden.
Inside her room, Yuhe had heard every word of the exchange clearly. Walking out to Mrs. Cui’s side, she offered gentle reassurance. “Mother, do not fret. I have the silver.”
Her eyes flashed with a cold resolve as she added softly, “Though we certainly won’t hand it over so easily. When the time comes, I have a way to shut his mouth for good.”
Mrs. Cui remained unconvinced; as helpless women, what solution could Yuhe possibly have?
“Yuhe,” she suggested, “why don’t you talk to your father about this? The Village Chief is afraid of him.”
Yuhe let out a bitter laugh. “Mother, my father changed long ago. Just like the Village Chief, he wears the same sickening face. When I insisted on keeping the child in my belly, I fell out with him completely.”
Mrs. Cui relinquished her last sliver of hope. Compared to the child Yuhe was carrying, a minor dispute with the Village Chief was hardly worth dwelling on.
For lunch, Mrs. Cui simmered a pot of white rice porridge, serving it alongside the meat pies Lady Wu had brought over and a small dish of pickled vegetables. Little Yun sat quietly at the table, eating her fill.
Holding the porridge and side dishes, Mrs. Cui had her hands full. She asked Yuhe to carry the medicinal broth into Xie Shuhuai’s room.
Yuhe froze for a long moment, hesitating to move. Ever since returning to the Xie household, she had kept Shuhuai’s stern warnings firmly in mind and had never once set foot in his east room.
Only when Mrs. Cui nudged her again did she pick up the bowl and follow her inside.
Shuhuai’s fever had yet to abate. Half-conscious, he drained the bowl of medicine before drifting back to sleep, leaving his bowl of porridge entirely untouched.
Standing off to the side, Yuhe felt a tangle of anxiety and fear—terrified that Shuhuai might wake up and throw her out, yet deeply worried that his fever would not break.
“Mother,” Yuhe murmured, “perhaps tomorrow we should borrow Fourth Uncle’s ox cart and take him into the county town to see a doctor. If he lets this drag on, how can his body take it?”
Mrs. Cui sighed softly. “Tonight’s dose is the last of his prescription. If he shows no improvement by tomorrow morning, we will take him. Doctor Ji is quite skilled. Don’t worry too much—Shuhuai has a strong constitution; he will be fine.”
She spoke those words not only to reassure Yuhe, but to soothe her own anxious mind.
After Mrs. Cui carried the empty bowl out, Yuhe remained behind.
Gazing at Shuhuai’s flushed face and knit brow as he lay motionless on the bed, her heart ached for him. Wrringing out a damp cloth from the wooden basin, she gently wiped his cheeks and the palms of his hands. Unbuttoning his collar, she lightly bathed his chest and neck.
Burning with fever, Shuhuai instinctively craved the sudden coolness, reaching out to clutch the damp cloth tightly in his fist.
Yuhe’s heart softened into a pool of tenderness. Leaving the cloth in his grasp, she wringed out a fresh one and continued wiping his skin, her movements natural and practiced, free of the slightest hesitation.
Even though Shuhuai treated her with an icy detachment as if she were a total stranger, her feelings for him remained rooted in the warmth of their past—growing deeper and more intense than ever before. Every beautiful memory from her previous life seemed intertwined with him, and the only warmth she had known in her loneliness had been given by his hand.
Once she finished tending to his body, she paused and quietly took in her surroundings.
The furnishings in the room remained unchanged. Opposite the bed stood Shuhuai’s writing desk, positioned right beside the wooden window. Off to one side rested a long side-table and a tall wardrobe.
Yet, everything felt different now—colder and far more desolate.
In the past, she used to pick wild mountain flowers to arrange in a ceramic vase upon his desk. Even though Shuhuai had no particular fondness for plants, he had never thrown them out simply because she loved them. At times, he would even pick a few blossoms himself to bring home to her.
Now, forget the flowers—even the vase had vanished without a trace.
As a wave of drowsiness washed over her, Yuhe rested her head by the bed, her fingers loosely wrapped around Shuhuai’s hand, and drifted off to sleep.
Suddenly, her hand was forcefully flung aside.
Opening her sleep-heavy eyes, she met Shuhuai’s cold, dark gaze staring straight down at her. Her mind snapped instantly awake.
Though pale and weak with illness, Shuhuai commanded in a harsh voice, “Get out!”
Yuhe looked up abruptly, her lips trembling. Pain gripped her chest so tightly that she couldn’t squeeze out a single word. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over her lashes and rolling down her cheeks one after another.
Shuhuai turned a blind eye to her tears, his tone turning even colder as he repeated, “Get out!”
Yuhe rose to her feet in a flash, her voice choked with deep sorrow. “Do you hate me so much that you won’t even let me step foot into your room?”
Her voice cracked as the tears broke through completely. “You just despise me because you think I’m tainted, don’t you? But apart from you, I have never been close to another man!”