That strange feeling grew stronger. Beneath Xie Linxu’s broad palm was her body, yet he felt as though she might vanish at any moment. At last, she admitted to his face that she had deliberately climbed into his bed back then. No more clever words, no more lies to deceive him.
Xie Linxu did not feel much better for it. “One apology, and you think you can cast everything aside?” His hand at her waist tightened, as if trying to hold her more firmly.
“Impossible.” He repeated, voice low: “It’s impossible to just cut it clean.”
Song Xingyue said nothing more, letting him grip her waist in silence.
Whatever he did, it didn’t matter. In the end, it was all the same. The story had begun in disgrace; their ending was destined to be careless and rough.
Song Xingyue had thought that when Xie Linxu spoke those words that night, it was to take revenge on her. Yet afterward, unexpectedly, he left her in peace for several days, not deliberately seeking trouble.
It made sense. He was busy with official duties. Even if he wanted to vent his anger, he had no time. He was not Ji Jianyun, idle enough to block someone in an alley or climb a mountain just to hurl harsh words.
Most of the time, Xie Linxu was occupied with his own affairs, with no leisure to quarrel with her. Song Xingyue breathed easier, spending her days attending to Jingxi.
Her efforts bore fruit. Since drinking the prescription Master Xuanshan had given her, Jingxi’s chronic ailment had truly improved, and her complexion looked much better. With her headaches eased, she even looked at Song Xingyue more kindly, no longer rejecting her as before. That day, she even broke precedent and kept her for lunch.
Jingxi usually had little company. In her youth she had a few close friends, but her temper was too harsh, and they gradually drifted away. Now they were only acquaintances.
After marrying Xie Xiu, she found him aloof and proud, and he always quarreled with her. In their youth there had been tenderness, but with age, sweetness soured. Their two sons rarely visited unless summoned.
Her only daughter was lively, but Jingxi found her too noisy. With her headaches, the girl’s chatter only worsened her irritation, so she sent her out to play. Thus, ironically, the daughter‑in‑law she had once despised became the one who soothed her most.
After lunch together, Jingxi went to rest. When she rose again, Song Xingyue brought her freshly brewed medicine.
Seeing this, Jingxi was speechless for a moment, then said: “From now on, let the servants do these things. You are, after all, the heir’s wife.”
Song Xingyue set the bowl on the table to cool. Hearing her words, she paused briefly, then smiled and replied: “It’s what a daughter‑in‑law ought to do.”
Ought to do.
Song Xingyue’s most frequent words were simply that phrase: “It’s what a daughter‑in‑law ought to do.”
Jingxi did not press further, but asked: “This master you know—who is he, that he could treat even my stubborn ailment?”
Song Xingyue replied: “When Grandmother was alive, she loved to worship Buddha and often visited Bao’en Temple. By chance she became acquainted with Master Xuanshan there, and they grew close. He was an old friend.”
Jingxi said: “So it was Xuanshan. I’ve heard of him.”
Bao’en Temple was one of the most flourishing temples in the capital, and Xuanshan was well known.
Song Xingyue answered: “Master has many virtuous connections.”
Jingxi then asked: “You grew up with your grandmother, didn’t you?”
Since marrying into the Song family, she had heard bits of their situation. Song Xingyue’s mother had died early, her father favoring concubines over his wife. After her mother’s death, within two years her father had hastily elevated the concubine.
At the mention of her grandmother, Song Xingyue smiled faintly. “Mother passed early. After Father raised the concubine, he hardly cared for my sister and me. Grandmother worried, seeing that Stepmother and Father were too busy, so she took us in herself.”
Her mother had died when she was seven. When she bore the two sisters, her health was already poor. Later, Song Cheng doted on Concubine Xu and mistreated their mother. Resentment weighed on her, and her body weakened further, until at last she fell gravely ill and died bedridden.
Before her death, Song Cheng never once came to see her, still lost in the concubine’s embrace. After their mother’s passing, life for Song Xingyue and Song Xingmiao grew even harsher.
Song Cheng was only a sixth‑rank official, his salary meager. Unlike the Xie family, the Songs had no great ancestral wealth or estates. Supporting the household on his stipend was difficult.
Concubine Xu was narrow‑minded, thinking only of her own children, treating Song Xingyue and her sister as thorns in her side. Though they lived in their own home, they felt like outsiders. The Song family was not wealthy, so someone had to suffer. And it was always the two sisters.
Song Xingyue still remembered a festival when she was nine. Her father had new clothes made for everyone—Concubine Xu’s children each had two sets of winter garments, and Concubine Xu herself had new clothes too. But when it came to her and Song Xingmiao, Concubine Xu claimed the household had no money left.
In truth, ever since their mother’s death, Concubine Xu rarely made clothes for them, always saying funds were tight.
Song Xingmiao was better off—without new clothes, she could always wear her sister’s hand‑me‑downs. But for Song Xingyue, who was growing quickly, her clothes were too short, leaving her wrists exposed to winter’s bitter cold.
That winter, Old Madam Song saw the two sisters’ plight. She was a deeply kind woman. When their mother was alive, she had treated her well, and the sisters had always been close to her. At that year’s New Year’s Eve dinner, when she saw that Song Xingyue’s clothes were too short, she pulled her into her arms and asked if she had been wronged.
Song Xingyue clung tightly to her grandmother’s neck, saying nothing, only crying. Song Xingmiao also hugged her grandmother’s leg and wept.
Old Madam Song said nothing, only cast a cold glance at Song Cheng and Concubine Xu, then took the two sisters away.
Filial piety came first, so Song Cheng dared not oppose her. Besides, he had little desire to raise the two girls himself. Letting the old lady take them away was convenient—clean and simple.
Song Xingyue’s arms encircled her grandmother’s neck for years, until the day she died. Even then, her hands still clung to her. When Grandmother passed, she could not accept it. She held her neck, calling to her again and again, trying to wake her from her final sleep. But she would never wake again. Thinking of her, Song Xingyue’s eyes reddened.
Jingxi saw her dazed look and guessed she was lost in sorrowful memories.
She had grown up with her grandmother; it was only natural that her death left her aching.
Song Xingyue turned away to wipe her eyes, then said softly: “Grandmother has gone to heaven to enjoy peace.”
She was a kind soul; surely she would find her way to bliss.
Jingxi replied: “No wonder you were close to the old lady.”
It was rare enough that she had spoken up for her.
Jingxi did not keep her longer. After drinking the medicine, she waved her hand for her to leave.
The news that Song Xingyue had stayed for lunch at Rongming Hall eventually reached Xie Linfu’s quarters.
At supper, Madam Huang could not resist speaking sourly to him: “I’ve only been away from Rongming Hall a few days, and somehow Song Xingyue has coaxed Mother into reconciling with her? Before, even a glance at her was distasteful, and now she’s welcome enough to share lunch?”
Xie Linfu rebuked Huang Xiangtang: “Why do you always oppose Sister‑in‑law? She’s never provoked you, yet you’re always against her. She is Brother’s lawful wife. To insult her is to insult him.”
Huang Xiangtang retorted: “After what happened, she’s already disgraced the Xie family. With Eldest Brother’s temperament, how could he ever live peacefully with her?”
“Peaceful or not, things are already as they are. That matter passed long ago, and Brother has never said a word about it. How can you keep holding on so long?”
Huang Xiangtang threw down her chopsticks. “Am I not allowed to dislike her manner? Your mother herself couldn’t stand her before. Yet you pick me, the easy target, to scold—how capable of you.”
It was nothing more than the sly tricks of a fox‑like woman, using petty means to curry favor. She played at being filial—someone suffers headaches, and she runs about as if the whole world must know she is the model of filial piety. With such behavior, where did that leave her?
The more Huang Xiangtang thought, the angrier she grew. “So she alone can show off? She alone is the loyal, filial one!”
Xie Linfu now found her unreasonable. “What, if you don’t honor Mother, and I don’t honor Mother, then her honoring Mother becomes wrong? Tangniang, that’s not how things should be done.”
If she herself was unfilial, she had no right to forbid others from being filial. That was far too domineering.
“Besides,” he added, “Sister‑in‑law’s situation is not ordinary—you know that.”
Huang Xiangtang could afford to neglect her duties, paying respects only sporadically. But Song Xingyue? She could not.
Hearing this, Huang Xiangtang glared at him from head to toe, then let out two cold laughs. “So what, you pity her now?”
“You’re twisting things again. Is that amusing?”
Why must every word circle back to that matter? It was tiresome.
Huang Xiangtang said: “Fine, I won’t speak of her. Let me ask you—how did you fare in this autumn exam? Your elder brother was already a *Tanhua* at nineteen. Don’t fall short of him.”
Xie Linfu replied curtly: “I’ve no patience to argue with you.” With that, he turned and walked out.
Huang Xiangtang was so enraged by his attitude that she nearly stirred her pregnancy. She cursed at his retreating back several times before stopping.
From that day onward, unwilling to let Song Xingyue outshine her, Huang Xiangtang began making more effort, going diligently to Rongming Hall to pay respects.
Yet Jingxi treated her the same as always, showing no warmth. Huang Xiangtang noticed, however, that when Song Xingyue spoke to her, Jingxi’s face softened with rare kindness.
Seeing this left Huang Xiangtang both shocked and furious, so she deliberately spoke words meant to sting.
“Eldest Sister‑in‑law has been married nearly two and a half years, yet still no sign of children. Mother ought to summon physicians to examine her. Otherwise, Eldest Brother should take concubines to continue the line. He’s already twenty‑two—waiting longer is hardly proper.”
Song Xingyue no longer let talk of children trouble her. Life with Xie Linxu was already unbearable; a child would only make them both more miserable. Once, such words would have hurt her. Now she simply listened and let them pass.
But Jingxi reacted. Just as she was about to speak, a servant entered. She carried a letter, handed it to the old nurse beside Jingxi, and reported: “Madam, Ladies, this is an invitation from the Minister of Justice’s household. Their second son’s infant son has reached his full month, and they have sent a post to the Duke’s residence.”
It was fitting—just as talk of children arose inside, news of a child arrived from outside.
The Qian family, of the Ministry of Justice.
The Huang and Qian families had long been at odds. Yet Huang Xiangtang seized the chance to mock Song Xingyue, covering her mouth with a laugh: “See? In the capital, all of proper age are having children in due course. Which gentleman would keep delaying?”
No sooner had she spoken than Jingxi shot her a sharp look. Under that gaze, Huang Xiangtang dared not continue.
Jingxi lowered her eyes, silent for a moment, then instructed the old nurse: “Handle this. Go to the palace and invite some women physicians and nurses who specialize in children.”
Huang Xiangtang’s words were unpleasant, meant to sow discord. But not entirely wrong. Both were of age; the matter of children could not be ignored.
She had once raised the idea of concubines with Xie Linxu, but seeing his refusal, she knew he would never agree. Thus, the only path left was to press Song Xingyue.
Even in the palace, there were always consorts who could not bear children—yet in the end, with remedies and prescriptions, they managed to conceive.
Jingxi looked at Song Xingyue and said: “When those people come to Qinghe Courtyard, you must take the prescriptions on time. Don’t shirk or fear hardship. If you still cannot conceive, then when Changzhou takes concubines, you will have no grounds for complaint.”
Whether it was Jingxi’s words or the intimidating arrangements, Song Xingyue’s face turned unusually pale. Her lips whitened, and her fingers clutched the armrests so tightly they blanched. Her unease was so obvious that even Jingxi and Huang Xiangtang noticed.
Jingxi faltered, wondering if her words had been too harsh. Perhaps not. So why had she suddenly become like this?
After a long silence, Song Xingyue forced herself to reply: “Mother, I understand. I will obey and take the medicine.”
She paused, then added about the Qian family’s full‑month celebration: “As for that ceremony, I should not go. I am a woman without fortune—I would only bring ill luck to them.”
Jingxi looked at her and retorted: “You mean to say the unfortunate should not enter the fortunate? By that logic, our Duke’s household would be a house without fortune.”
Song Xingyue hurried to explain: “Daughter‑in‑law never meant such a thing.”
“I know you wouldn’t dare think so,” Jingxi said. “Precisely because you have not conceived, you must go. To bring back some auspiciousness is worthwhile.”
The Qian family might not be the most virtuous, but they were still court officials. Since they had sent an invitation to the Xie household, attending would do no harm.
Auspiciousness? More like misfortune…
Song Xingyue still remembered how Qian Gaoyu had hounded her daily at the Song residence.
After Ji Jianyun left the capital, Song Cheng and Concubine Xu had rushed to find her a match, eager to sell her off. That man was none other than the Qian family’s second son, Qian Gaoyu.
Qian Gaoyu was debauched and vicious, a true wastrel. Even before marriage, he had taken numerous concubines, and still frequented brothels for pleasure. Marrying such a man, she would not have lived long. One day she might contract some foul disease and die without knowing how. But the Song family cared nothing for that. They only wanted her married into a higher branch, thinking it profitable after feeding her for years.
The Songs were of low rank, only sixth grade. But Qian Gaoyu was brazen and coveted her beauty. Such a lovely wife was no loss to him. At that time, he and Song Cheng quickly struck an agreement, ignoring her wishes, determined to settle the marriage and “buy” her into his household.
With Song Cheng’s support, Qian Gaoyu often came to the Song residence to pursue her. If not for her desperate delays and evasions, she might have fallen victim to him. It lasted nearly a month. Then came the incident with Xie Linxu, which finally gave her a chance to escape his clutches.
Song Xingyue was determined never to set foot in the Qian household again. Even the thought of Qian Gaoyu made her sick. But with Jingxi insisting, and Huang Xiangtang watching her closely, if she resisted or refused, suspicion might arise. Worse, it could dredge up the old scandal and let Jingxi or Huang Xiangtang discover the truth.
Ever since she learned she must go to the Qian household, Song Xingyue had been distracted, no longer lingering long in Rongming Hall and instead returning to Qinghe Courtyard. All day her expression was listless, like an eggplant struck by frost. Even Danping noticed her unhappiness. She knew what troubled her, but dared not speak, afraid of deepening her mistress’s worry. Privately, she cursed: “Damnable scoundrel—such men ought to die out.”
Yet that villain had wives and concubines aplenty, children in abundance. And now he had the gall to host a full‑month banquet, spreading misfortune to others.
That evening, when Xie Linxu returned from duty, Song Xingyue mentioned it over supper. Though she had not fully reconciled with him, she still needed to report such matters, no matter how much she disliked him.
She said: “The Qian family’s second son’s child is one month old. They’ve sent an invitation to the Xie household. Mother wants me to go and share in the joy. Will you go?”
It was a casual question—she never expected him to attend. He was usually busy and unfamiliar with the Qians. There seemed to be no need.
Xie Linxu was silent for a while, then asked: “Do you want me to go with you?”
His words left her speechless. How strange—he spoke as if his attendance depended on her will. Since when had she ever been able to decide for him? The question was needless.
She lowered her head, poking at her rice with her chopsticks. “I know you’re busy with official duties; you won’t have time.”
Seeing her stabbing at her food, Xie Linxu tapped her chopsticks with his own, frowning: “Eat properly. Why poke at it aimlessly?”
“…Oh.” Song Xingyue was too troubled to quarrel with him over such a small matter.
Xie Linxu said: “That day will not be peaceful. Of course I must go.”
“Not peaceful?” she asked.
Why would it not be peaceful?
He had already set down his chopsticks, replying only: “I don’t know. It’s hard to say.”
Hearing that, Song Xingyue asked no more. She had no appetite, sighed, laid down her chopsticks, and rose, leaving him alone once again.
Her behavior was so strange today that even Xie Linxu noticed her mood was poor. He was about to ask, but she had already stood up.
The dim autumn sunset filled the courtyard. Outside, the camellias had withered completely, bare branches stark against the fiery dusk. Their shadows fell across the ground, desolate. The wind moaned, rushing through the open windows, stirring Xie Linxu’s robes.
Xie Linxu still sat where he was, his gaze fixed on the direction Song Xingyue had left. Only after a long while did the autumn wind bring him back to himself. She had truly changed a great deal.
The last time in Rongming Hall, he had clearly seen her holding a medicine bowl, smiling sincerely at Jingxi. Yet toward him—she seemed unable even to smile. She had changed suddenly, and yet not changed at all. After all, poking at rice with chopsticks when upset was something she had always done. That habit had not changed in the least. But toward him, her words and actions had indeed grown more proper. She spoke carefully, without coquettishness, without trying to please, her tone plain—like that of a stranger. She no longer clung to him, no longer stuck to him endlessly. Now she was exactly as he had once sternly demanded her to be. Yet when she truly became so, Xie Linxu found it strangely unsettling.
The feeling was like a bone caught in his throat—stuck fast, impossible to spit out, impossible to swallow. What was this strangeness? He could not even put it into words.