Song Xingyue truly could not remain there any longer. Her face had turned visibly pale. She said to Jingxi, “Mother, I am unwell. Your daughter‑in‑law will take her leave.” Without waiting for anyone’s response, she left at once.
Madam Huang watched her departing back and muttered, clicking her tongue, “She’s the first to take offense…”
But before she could finish, Xie Linxu’s cold gaze swept across. His face was sharply defined, his long eyes black and white, utterly devoid of emotion.
That single glance silenced Madam Huang.
After all, Song Xingyue was his wife. They had endured two years together. For others to criticize her in front of him, to speak of divorce in his presence…
The words “divorce the wife” were far too much. Xie Linxu himself had not said such a thing—what right did they have to say it?
Realizing this, Madam Huang dared not continue.
Soon after, Xie Linxu himself did not remain either. Using duty as an excuse, he rose, excused himself, and left.
Summer. The sun already hung high in the clear blue sky.
Song Xingyue did not know whether it was the tea that had choked her, or those words that had unsettled her. Her chest felt inexplicably tight. On the way back, the blazing sun overhead steamed her, sweat breaking out across her brow. Beside her, Danping fanned her and said, “Miss, slow down. Why walk so fast?”
Perhaps she was too eager to escape that place—her feet moved quicker without her realizing. By the time they returned to Qinghe Courtyard, her inner garments were soaked through with sweat. She went to the washroom, changed into fresh clothes, and came out again.
Qinghe Courtyard never lacked ice braziers. Even in the heat of summer, it was cool and comfortable from morning to night. Yet even so, Song Xingyue’s expression remained weary. She could not even bring herself to eat breakfast.
The words spoken that morning in Rongming Hall had been too much. They had stirred up a flood of old memories, leaving her melancholy.
There was no help for it—marrying Xie Linxu had been her greatest mistake.
Who was Xie Linxu? The heir of the Duke’s household, a palace examination champion at twenty. No one who had seen him ever spoke ill. Cold and aloof, like an exiled immortal from the heavens.
As for her, her background was ordinary. Aside from a face she herself could not modestly deny, she seemed to have nothing else worth showing. Put the two of them together, and, to put it harshly, it was a jade hairpin fallen into the mud, a peony lodged among thorns. He was jade, she was mud. He was a peony; she was a thorn. And it wasn’t only the Duke’s household who looked down on her. Outsiders, though they held their tongues out of respect for the Duke’s family, whispered plenty of cruel words behind her back. Her days had never been easy. But this was all her own choice.
Back then, when she followed behind Xie Linxu, when she stepped into that room with him—that had been her choice. It didn’t matter. She thought, it really didn’t matter.
Life was to be lived with Xie Linxu. Compared to the rest of the Xie family, he was far easier to get along with. Aside from being cold in temperament, there was nothing wrong with him. As long as she bore him a child, even if life was full of bumps and stumbles, it could still go on. He would eventually forget that foolish incident of his youth. Though they had been married for two years, their intimacy was not frequent. It was normal that she had not conceived. The matter of children could not be rushed. Rushing would do no good.
Song Xingyue’s breath finally eased a little. She felt she could at last draw air again.
Just then, a maid brought something in. Danping stepped forward, took it, and handed it to Song Xingyue. It was an invitation, sealed in gold paper, likely for a birthday banquet.
Song Xingyue looked at the seal. On it was written: “The Li Family of the Capital.”
Seeing the surname Li, her heart tightened.
The Li family—once the household engaged to the Duke’s heir.
Danping recognized the invitation too. She said, “I heard the Li family’s Grand Tutor is turning sixty. This must be an invitation for the Duke’s household to attend.”
Song Xingyue did not open it. She simply put the invitation away.
Danping was puzzled and asked, “Miss, aren’t you going to open it? Why put it away?”
Song Xingyue replied, “Anything from the Li family—let Changzhou look at it himself.”
Back then, Grand Tutor Li had taught the Crown Prince in the palace. At the emperor’s command, Xie Linxu had accompanied the prince as a study companion. The Grand Tutor was truly his teacher, and the Xie and Li families had long been close.
Xie Linxu’s engagement to the Li family’s daughter had been arranged from birth. If not for her scandal, the two families would already have been joined in marriage, strengthening their bond.
So this invitation—better not to open it. Let Xie Linxu break the seal himself. Whatever should be done, let him decide.
Danping understood her meaning and muttered, “Then if the heir opens it, does that mean we won’t attend the Li family’s banquet? After all, you are his wife. Surely you can attend a birthday feast? Even if everyone knows the discord between the families, appearances must still be kept. Otherwise, if the whole Xie family goes and you alone do not, what position does that leave you in? The gossip outside will only grow harsher.”
Song Xingyue did not answer.
Whether she went or not was not hers to decide. If Xie Linxu forbade her from going, to avoid offending the Li family, she could not protest. She would wait until he returned from duty that evening, then mention it to test his attitude. By dusk, around the hour of You, the sky had grown dim, yet she still had not seen him.
After placing third in the palace examination three years ago, Xie Linxu had taken a post as Compiler in the Hanlin Academy. With his outstanding record, within two years, he was promoted to Fifth‑rank Lecturer. His talent was such that, besides his official duties, he was often sent by the Academy to assist the Grand Secretariat, clearly with the intent of letting him “observe governance.”
By the season’s reckoning, winter days were short, and often he returned home after dark. In summer, with longer daylight, unless occupied at the Academy, he usually came home while it was still light. Why was he so late today? Was official business holding him back? As she thought this, sounds came from outside—the servants greeting him.
Song Xingyue rose and went out, just as he was entering through the courtyard gate. Her lips curved into a smile as she stepped down from the corridor. She went forward to meet him, saying, “Changzhou, you’re back. Was the yamen busy today? Why so late? I’ve been waiting to dine with you—the dishes are nearly cold.”
By now the sky was dark. Lanterns hung beneath the carved red‑lacquered corridor. The thin moonlight mingled with the lantern glow, thickening the shadows. Bathed in that light, the woman’s figure seemed even more radiant.
Xie Linxu glanced at his wife, who—as always—came forward to greet him. On her face was the same smile she wore every day. What had happened that morning in Rong’an Hall, she seemed not to have taken to heart.
She had been married into the household for about two years now. Every day when he returned from duty to Qinghe Courtyard, he would see Song Xingyue lift her smiling face toward him. No matter what had happened during the day, no matter how much humiliation she had endured, once he came home, her eyes always curved like crescent moons. There was nothing in her life worth rejoicing over, nothing truly pleasant—yet she always smiled like this.
And Xie Linxu, as ever, only looked at her once before turning his gaze away. Hearing that she had not yet eaten supper, he meant to say: Next time, don’t wait for me; eat first. But when the words reached his lips, they turned instead into: “I’ll eat on my own. No need for you to wait.”
Still the same, so unfeeling. He clearly knew how to speak pleasantly, yet he deliberately chose the harshest words.
In front of others, Xie Linxu never spoke this way—every word edged with thorns. Only before Song Xingyue did he act like this.
Song Xingyue had long since stopped taking his sharpness to heart. But sensing his indifference and distance, the smile at her lips faded somewhat.
The two walked side by side into the room. She asked, “Was there business at the yamen? You’ve come home only after nightfall today.”
Indeed, the office had been busy. Yesterday he had gone into the palace, then returned home early, which delayed his schedule. Today he had stayed longer at the yamen to make up for the lost time.
But hearing her words, Xie Linxu only gave a brief “Mm,” with no intention of explaining further.
When they reached the inner room, Song Xingyue brought out the Li family’s invitation and handed it to him. She said, “This was delivered from the Li household. You should look at it.”
Xie Linxu took the envelope she offered. The characters “Li Family” stood out clearly on the cover. It was a birthday invitation, still unopened. He already knew what it contained. He’d learned of his teacher’s sixtieth birthday days ago and even prepared the gift.
At last, he opened the invitation himself. As expected, it was an invitation for them to attend the Li family’s banquet in honor of Grand Tutor Li. Under the soft candlelight, his brows and eyes seemed gentler, the chill of his bearing slightly diminished. He looked up at Song Xingyue and asked, “Why didn’t you open it yourself?”
She sat nearby and answered, “I thought it best to let you see it first.”
She could open invitations from other households, but not one from the Li family. The reason was clear—she knew the Li family was different for him. His childhood companion, his revered teacher, the bond between their families… Those were things she could not presume to touch.
Hearing her words, Xie Linxu seemed amused. Rarely, he let out a laugh. His voice was crisp and clear; that brief laugh rang like jade striking jade, unexpectedly pleasant.
If Song Xingyue had not misheard, he truly had laughed. Yet on his face she could not find the slightest trace of a smile. It made her wonder if that laugh had been nothing but an illusion.
Just as she was struggling to decide whether he had truly laughed or not, Xie Linxu spoke first. “Now you know propriety.”
“When you drugged me and climbed into my bed back then, did you not know what was right and what was wrong?”
Xie Linxu had not mentioned that incident for a long time—so long that Song Xingyue thought he had forgotten. But hearing him suddenly bring it up again, she was jolted into remembering. Two years ago, when he saw her quietly follow him into the room, his eyes had been filled with disgust.
At that banquet, she had noticed Xie Linxu under the influence of the drug and deliberately followed him into the washroom. The medicine was already taking effect; his breathing was uneven. Yet when he saw her enter, he forced himself to remain lucid, insisting she leave.
Song Xingyue, of course, did not listen. She stepped closer, teasing him faintly.
“Sir, what’s wrong? Too much wine? Are you unwell? Shall I fetch a physician for you?” As she spoke, she drew nearer, touching him.
True, she had not administered the drug. But afterward, with her actions, whether she had or not no longer mattered.
Xie Linxu could never forget that night. His loathing for her had always been absolute. He should have had a perfect marriage. A man like him, an immortal‑like gentleman, should never have been entangled with someone like her. Yet she had dragged him down into disgrace. How could he not despise her?
Song Xingyue dared not continue speaking, afraid that if she did, he would say something even harsher, more wounding. So she pretended not to hear, and said instead, “Then you can go with Mother and the others. I… I’m not feeling well, so I won’t go.”
As he put away the letter, Xie Linxu replied, “What use is hiding? A birthday celebration of an elder—there is no reason for the younger generation to shirk.”
He meant for her to attend.
But whether from the sting of his earlier words or something else, Song Xingyue suddenly faltered. She looked at him and said, “Since you call me so disgraceful, wouldn’t my presence only bring shame to the elder? Wouldn’t that be even more unfilial?”
Hearing her tone, Xie Linxu lifted his eyelids and asked, “You’re unhappy?”
Her happiness, her unhappiness, her anger, her shame—these were always so easy to perceive. Perhaps his insight was too sharp, or perhaps he simply knew her too well. Her desires and emotions were laid bare before him.
Song Xingyue truly was unhappy. It was he who had made her this way, and now he asked knowingly, as if mocking her. She had wanted to speak with him properly. But from the moment he returned home, every word from his mouth had been barbed, leaving her in no mood to talk.
“No, I’m not unhappy.” The smile at her lips vanished completely. “I have no appetite. I’ll skip supper.”
Speaking, she no longer cared what expression Xie Linxu wore and left the room.
Xie Linxu said nothing, his gaze lingering on her retreating back, his thin lips pressed tightly together. This time, they had neither quarreled nor fought. Yet afterward, the two of them did not exchange another word for the rest of the night.
After supper, Xie Linxu went to the study, while Song Xingyue lay down on the bed alone.
By the time he returned, it was nearly midnight, and Song Xingyue was still awake.
The moonlit night was quiet. At the deep hour, even the insects had fallen silent. The moon was full, and though the lamps were extinguished, the room was not completely dark. Still, the atmosphere remained heavy and stifling.
Song Xingyue lay restless, unable to sleep. From the humiliation she had suffered that morning in Rongming Hall, to barely touching her meals at noon, and then skipping supper after their unpleasant exchange—by midnight her stomach was rumbling, making sleep impossible. She turned her head. Seeing Xie Linxu unmoving, hearing his shallow breathing, she guessed he was already asleep. Carefully, she rose, stepping lightly across him to get out of bed.
The Duke’s household was strict with rules. In the past, even if she rose, she would never dare cross over him—always self‑restrained, never daring to breach propriety. Otherwise, if he knew, he would surely scold her: “What kind of conduct is this?”
But now she no longer cared. After all, he was asleep. By moonlight she groped her way toward the table. Her eyes caught sight of a plate of pastries there. In the dim light, she could not see clearly what kind.
Xie Linxu was fastidious and disliked food kept in the bedchamber. The servants would never have placed such things there. Where had it come from?
Song Xingyue did not think further. She reached out, took a piece to fill her stomach. Tasting it, she realized it was osmanthus cake.
Nibbling at the cake, her stomach finally stopped growling, and her mind grew a little clearer. The servants would never have placed food in the inner chamber. The only one who could have left pastries there was Xie Linxu. Why would he put them there?
Song Xingyue did not dwell on it. After two pieces, she stopped. She brushed the crumbs clean from her hands, then carefully stepped back across Xie Linxu to return to bed. But just as she crossed over him, the man on the bed suddenly spoke: “Go rinse your mouth.”