Xie Linxu’s expression grew darker, but as he watched her retreat, he still said nothing. He didn’t bother having supper prepared again, simply filling his stomach with the leftovers Song Xingyue had left behind.
By evening, after washing up, Xie Linxu returned to the bedroom. Song Xingyue was lying on the bed, passing the time with a book. Hearing movement behind her, she turned her head and saw Xie Linxu climbing into bed.
She instinctively furrowed her brows, wary: “You said you were going to the study, didn’t you?”
Xie Linxu caught every shift in her expression. He said nothing, but his jaw tightened.
Song Xingyue didn’t want to argue further. Since he had come back, she couldn’t drive him away. She set the book aside, got out of bed, and padded to the cabinet, rummaging for something.
Xie Linxu’s eyes followed her back. When she returned, she was carrying a quilt. His voice dropped low: “What are you doing?”
Song Xingyue laid the quilt over him and said: “I’m afraid my illness might pass to you.”
As if she were doing him a kindness?
Xie Linxu looked at the quilt on him, wanting to speak, but she had already burrowed back into her own bedding, shutting herself off completely, leaving him no chance to say anything.
The two lay in silence, darkness wrapping the room.
Late into the night, Xie Linxu noticed he couldn’t hear her steady breathing. He reached out to touch her quilt. He intended to toss it to the floor. When she woke in the morning, he could claim she had kicked it off herself, insist she was the one tugging at his quilt to cover herself. Absurd as it sounded, in the dead of night with no witnesses, she would have no choice but to believe it.
But just as his hand pressed down on the quilt, Song Xingyue’s muffled voice came: “What are you doing? Not sleeping, tugging at my quilt—what do you want?”
Xie Linxu hadn’t expected her to be awake, catching him red-handed. He withdrew his hand, face unchanged, and explained evenly: “Just worried you might suffocate under there.”
“Don’t worry yourself.” Song Xingyue pulled the quilt tighter around her, threw that line down, and refused to pay him any more attention.
By the next day, the two of them still behaved like strangers, barely exchanging a word.
Xie Linxu’s temperament was cold to begin with, and now that Song Xingyue no longer tried to speak to him, their conversations had completely ceased.
A few more days passed, and Song Xingyue’s chill had mostly healed. She resumed her routine of paying respects to Jingxi without fail.
Seeing her finally return, Jingxi even asked, “Has your illness fully recovered?”
Song Xingyue thought she feared contagion, so she quickly replied, “I only dared to come once I was completely well.”
At that, Jingxi merely nodded. Song Xingyue then asked, “Has Mother’s head pain eased at all?”
“The prescriptions those physicians give are all the same. If they truly worked, that would be strange. It’s the same old condition.”
An old nurse nearby interjected: “This must be an old ailment from when Her Highness was young. Ah, that night she was caught in the rain until dawn—who would have thought the sickness would linger all these years?”
“A whole night in the rain?” Song Xingyue’s voice carried surprise; she hadn’t imagined Jingxi had suffered such hardship.
Jingxi clearly did not wish to dwell on it. “It’s just an old story. What good is there in speaking of it again?”
Seeing she was unwilling, Song Xingyue asked no further. After offering her respects, she withdrew.
The sky was clear, the early September weather neither hot nor cold—perfectly pleasant.
These days, Xie Linxu’s moods shifted unpredictably. Perhaps because she no longer tried to placate him, he looked at her with increasing displeasure.
Meanwhile, Jingxi’s headaches grew severe, leaving her in poor spirits daily.
On the way back to Qinghe Courtyard after paying respects, Song Xingyue thought of something and said to Danping: “Danping, what if we sought out Master Xuanshan again?”
Master Xuanshan had been a friend of the late Madam Song. In her lifetime, the old lady would occasionally bring the two Song sisters to visit him. After her passing, Song Xingyue and Song Xingmiao had seen him only a few times, but the connection remained.
Remembering him, Song Xingyue’s eyes lit up. “Master Xuanshan understands medicine. When Grandmother was gravely ill, it was his remedies that kept her alive for a few more breaths. Do you think we could ask him for a prescription to treat headaches?”
Danping asked in puzzlement: “Miss wishes to treat Madam’s head ailment?”
Song Xingyue nodded.
Life with Xie Linxu was what it was—leaning on him was laughable. Now that Jingxi suffered headaches, she was the one most burdened. She did not expect Jingxi to change her view of her, but if the torment could be lessened, it would help. And if Jingxi looked on her more kindly, everything she did in the future would be easier.
Otherwise, with Jingxi in pain every day, her temper flaring, Song Xingyue would be dragged into it too—and life would be unbearable.
Danping pursed her lips. “But it’s been more than two years. Madam may not appreciate Miss’s effort.”
“Effort is what matters. Doing something is better than doing nothing.”
Song Xingyue thought quickly and acted just as swiftly. Seeing the fine weather, she decided to seek out Master Xuanshan directly.
She had only walked a few steps when something occurred to her. “Has Second Young Master finished the autumn examination yet?” she asked.
Danping replied, “Not yet. Today is only the fourth; he’ll likely be out tomorrow.”
The autumn examination lasted five days—two for entering and leaving the hall, three for the actual writing. By calculation, Xie Linfu would only emerge from the exam hall tomorrow.
Song Xingyue worried that once the exam ended, Jingxi might order her about with errands again. Since it wouldn’t be until tomorrow, she felt at ease seeking out Xuanshan.
Xuanshan resided at Bao’en Temple. She made her way there once more. Before setting out, she checked the sun overhead several times to make sure no sudden rain would fall, then departed. By the time she reached the mountain, it was nearly mid-morning, the sun shining brightly.
Master Xuanshan was in meditation, so Song Xingyue went to the Buddha hall to offer incense and wait.
After about half an hour, a voice sounded behind her. “Xiao Yue.”
Song Xingyue turned and saw Xuanshan standing there in his monk’s robes.
“Master.” She rose and walked toward him.
“You came not long ago. This time, is there something else?”
Song Xingyue said, “Yes, I’ve come to ask a favor.”
They moved aside as they spoke, and Song Xingyue explained her purpose.
“This time I trouble Master because my mother-in-law has been suffering from headaches. Many physicians have seen her, but none have helped. Knowing your skill in medicine, I hoped you might assist.”
Xuanshan was over sixty, his beard long and graying. Stroking it, he chuckled: “Your mother-in-law is of princess birth, with attendants aplenty. How could they be helpless over a mere headache?”
Song Xingyue quickly replied: “Helpless indeed. The physicians’ prescriptions are all the same—two coins here, three coins there. She’s drunk them for half a month with no effect. They only use the safest herbs, afraid to risk more. To them, not killing the patient is already a great merit. As for medicines that could truly cure—who dares to prescribe them?”
Those remedies could never touch her chronic ailment, and the physicians dared not use stronger medicine. If she improved, it would be a miracle.
Xuanshan laughed twice, tapped her lightly on the head. “You little one, clever and perceptive—you’ve already grasped the truth of it. Very well. Since you’ve come to me again, how could I let you go back empty-handed? Come with me, tell me the details, and I’ll write you a prescription. If it works, you needn’t thank me. If it doesn’t, you mustn’t blame me.”
Song Xingyue also smiled. “Master, what are you saying? How could I be so unreasonable? If this truly helps, you’ll have done me a great favor.”
The two left the main hall and walked toward the living quarters. Xuanshan sighed: “I know your days have not been easy. If this can ease your mother-in-law’s headaches, I hope she will treat you better in the future. As you are now, your grandmother must be anxious watching from below.”
At the mention of the late Madam Song, Song Xingyue’s heart tightened. She lowered her head and fell silent. When Grandmother was alive, she had always protected her and her younger sister. Now that she was gone, Song Xingyue could only rely on the bonds she had left behind.
Grandmother had shielded her all along, yet she had only disappointed her—unable even to stand tall as a proper person. Grandmother was a woman of great kindness. If she knew how Song Xingyue lived now, she would surely weep in sorrow.
Thinking of the departed, recalling those painful memories, neither spoke further. They simply continued walking.
After Jingxi clearly explained her ailment to Master Xuanshan, he gave her a prescription. Song Xingyue accepted the medicine with heartfelt thanks.
Xuanshan said: “These herbs are best gathered from the mountains. I’ll tell you exactly where to find them. If you cannot, then take the prescription down to your household and have them search. Do not rush.”
During Madam Song’s illness, Song Xingyue had studied medical texts and herbal lore. Now she understood enough to recognize that this prescription was unusual. Seeing that some herbs could be found in the mountains, she asked Xuanshan for a basket and decided to gather them herself.
Watching her, Xuanshan sighed. “Taking the prescription is enough. Why trouble yourself with gathering herbs personally?”
She had always liked carrying a small basket to collect herbs for her grandmother. Even now, she was the same.
Song Xingyue smiled. “It’s no matter. Filial duty to elders is what juniors ought to do.”
Xuanshan could not dissuade her. He waved his hand. “Very well, very well—do as you please.”
He personally escorted her from the temple, reminding her again and again: “Gather herbs if you must, but be sure to descend before nightfall. If it grows late, misfortune may come.”
“I’ll be careful, Master. No need to see me further—please return.”
Leaving Bao’en Temple, the day was still early. Carrying the prescription, Song Xingyue headed into the mountains to search. She knew the terrain well; Ji Jianyun had often accompanied her here in the past. Now, with Danping beside her, the path was familiar.
The forest carried the desolate air of autumn leaves. She recognized most of the herbs on the prescription. Following Xuanshan’s directions, she gathered them one by one. Soon the basket was filled, save for the last ingredient—growing from a crack in the stone wall. Measuring the rocks nearby, she judged she could reach it.
Danping tried to dissuade her: “Let it be, Miss. This is frightening… why don’t you let me go instead?”
But what harm was there? She had done this before. Besides, it wasn’t a cliff—neither high nor dangerous.
She told Danping to wait, then stepped carefully onto the protruding rocks and reached for the white angelica sprouting from the crevice. Just as her fingertips brushed the herb, her foot slipped suddenly on moss. Startled, she twisted her waist and tried to grab the nearby tangled vines. But in autumn, they were brittle and weak. With one hard pull, they snapped.
“Miss!” Danping cried out.
Danping saw her fall and, panicked, dropped what she was holding and cried out.
Fortunately, the spot wasn’t high. Song Xingyue tumbled down against the jagged stones, bruised and scraped, but otherwise unharmed.
Danping clutched at her, looking her over from head to toe. Her eyes reddened with anger and fear, tears spilling as she said: “This was so dangerous! I told you not to gather herbs yourself. What if something terrible had happened?”
Song Xingyue glanced at her clothes—only the sleeve was torn, the rest just dusty. A few pats would clean it. Her body ached all over from the fall, but not wanting Danping to worry, she hopped twice, grinning through clenched teeth: “It’s nothing, Danping. See? I can still jump about.”
“Miss!” Danping cried, more upset than before.
Though her body still hurt, Song Xingyue was unwilling to leave the herb uncollected. After resting a moment, she studied the spot where she had slipped, memorized it, and—ignoring Danping’s protests—went again.
This time, nothing went wrong. After all the trouble, by the time the two returned to the Xie household, night had already fallen.
Song Xingyue didn’t even stop for supper. Carrying the basket of herbs, she went straight to the medicine room and began decocting them.
Meanwhile, in the main hall of Rongming Hall, Jingxi had just finished her evening meal and summoned Xie Linxu, who had come off duty. She didn’t get straight to the point; first, she exchanged a few pleasantries.
“Have you been managing your work well? I hear from your father you’ve been spending much time at Wenyuan Pavilion.”
“It’s manageable,” Xie Linxu replied, holding a white jade cup and idly stroking its rim with his long fingers. He then asked after her health: “I heard Mother’s headache was severe today…”
Jingxi sighed repeatedly, troubled. “It’s an old ailment from my youth—you know that.”
“Even with physicians, there’s no improvement?” he asked.
“Just the same.”
“Then perhaps summon the imperial physicians from the palace?”
“What difference would it make? They’re no better than those from the Duke’s household.” Jingxi cut him off, unwilling to continue on that subject. Instead, she suddenly probed: “Has the situation in court grown clearer of late?”
It was once again about Emperor Jingning’s wish to build a Taoist temple. The ministers had memorialized, urging him not to waste resources and burden the people, but he remained obstinate. The emperor’s will was not easily swayed, nor was the ministers’ resolve easily shaken. With the lessons of the previous dynasty, the ministers were deeply cautious. If Emperor Jingning were allowed to proceed, it might repeat past disasters—wasting resources and, worse, harming his health with elixirs in pursuit of immortality. No minister dared support him openly. Anyone who did would be attacked as a sycophant currying favor. Feeling betrayed, the emperor grew sullen, mutual resentment festering between him and his court.
The hardest role fell to the nineteen‑year‑old crown prince—caught between soothing his father’s feelings and not disappointing the ministers. His days were truly arduous.
Speaking of this matter, Xie Linxu only felt weary. He set down his cup, stopped fiddling with it, and said: “It’s no different from before—still deadlocked.”
The memorials he drafted in the cabinet were nothing more than admonitions to Emperor Jingning. And the emperor’s rescripts were only two curt words: ‘Reviewed.’
Jingxi remarked: “In my view, isn’t it just a temple? Why make such a fuss?”
But Xie Linxu’s expression grew serious. “Does Mother not realize—if this begins, there will be no end to the temples built afterward?”
It was not merely about one temple. Once begun, it would never stop.
Seeing his stance, Jingxi held back. She knew his nature well—unyielding, uncompromising, intolerant of even a grain of sand in his eyes.
Unable to speak further of Emperor Jingning, she turned her thoughts to Xie Linfu, and her headache worsened. “Ah, your younger brother… who knows how he’ll fare in this autumn exam. He comes out tomorrow, and I hardly dare even ask…”
No sooner had she spoken than the sound of the curtain rings clinking came from outside. From the servant’s greeting, it was clear Song Xingyue had arrived.
Xie Linxu fell silent, lips pressed tight, saying no more.
Song Xingyue, meanwhile, had her own careful plan. She had gathered herbs and brewed medicine for Jingxi, even taken a fall in the process—surely Jingxi ought to know. If she did the work but said nothing, it was as if she hadn’t done it at all. Then her fall would have been for nothing. If Jingxi knew, she might remember her kindness, and remembering it, treat her less harshly. But if she spoke too plainly, it would sound like boasting—too blunt.
So Song Xingyue left her soiled clothes unchanged, her face smudged with dirt—whether from the tumble down the mountain or from the smoke of the medicine fire. Her leg, though not crippled, she deliberately favored, feigning an injury to the bone. The sight of her was pitiful indeed.
She curved her lips into a smile, not too deliberate, rehearsing her words as she carried the medicine inside, ready to speak. But when she lifted her head, she saw Xie Linxu there. At once, the smile she had prepared froze awkwardly on her face.