Xie Linxu uttered those three words without emotion. Song Xingyue hadn’t expected him to be still awake, and his sudden voice startled her. She hurriedly drew her leg back from over him, not daring to make another sound, and obeyed his instruction to rinse her mouth.
Osmanthus cake was indeed sweet. As a child, she had been greedy for it, often eating before bed without rinsing, until her mother scolded her countless times into breaking the habit. Her mother had been gone for many years now, and few still restrained her in such matters.
But Xie Linxu was stricter with rules. Even half‑asleep, he did not forget to remind her. Had he woken because she disturbed him? Or had he been awake all along?
After rinsing, Song Xingyue returned. This time she did not dare cross over him, but circled properly around his feet to reach her side of the bed. She thought for a long while, then edged closer to him.
Xie Linxu did not move. But Song Xingyue knew he was not asleep. She no longer sulked and spoke softly: “Changzhou, was it you who placed the osmanthus cake?”
Xie Linxu did not deny it, nor remain silent. He said, “The palace sent it as a reward. In this scorching heat, if it isn’t eaten, it will spoil.”
He said the weather was hot, and if it weren’t eaten, it would go bad.
Song Xingyue didn’t care about the reason. She took it as a step down, a small concession between them. She said, “Changzhou, it’s not that I don’t want to go, not that I don’t understand propriety. I’m just afraid they’ll be unhappy to see me.”
Afraid he wouldn’t believe her, she added, “Truly, I’m not lying.”
“Because others don’t want to see you, will you shrink back your whole life?” he said again. “If the thick skin you show in front of me could be used with others, that would be some ability indeed.”
Song Xingyue clung to his arm and laughed: “That’s different. You’re my husband—what’s wrong with me being thick‑skinned with you?”
Outside, the round moon shone with clear light, mingling quietness with strangeness. Her sweet, sticky words fermented in the soundless, shadowed night, thickening the very air. So much so that Xie Linxu barely slept at all. The next morning, he even woke later than Song Xingyue—a rare occurrence.
She had already washed and changed, now sitting before the bronze mirror, arranging her hair.
Hearing the rustle behind her, she realized Xie Linxu was awake. She turned, smiling, and greeted him: “Changzhou, good morning.”
Xie Linxu pressed his lips together, gave no reply, only a slight nod—still without much emotion. Once both were ready, they went together to Rongming Hall.
Morning and evening greetings were strict household rules. The greater the family, the more emphasis on such rituals. As juniors, they were expected to serve their elders properly. In the two years since marrying into the Xie family, Song Xingyue had never failed to attend, rain or shine.
Yet Jingxi treated her the same as ever, without the slightest change.
The household’s management of domestic affairs remained firmly in Jingxi’s hands, never passed to her. Each festival, when new clothes were to be made, Jingxi never thought of her.
New garments were always chosen for others first, then a few poor‑quality pieces left for her, as if in token. The clothes from her own family were too shabby for the Duke’s household—wearing them would only invite ridicule and Jingxi’s criticism. Even now, she had not a single decent outfit. But she never spoke of these matters to Xie Linxu.
In trivial things, she could act coy or playful; that was fine; she could swallow her pride. But when it came to money or household provisions, she could never bring herself to open her mouth.
From the moment she married into the Duke’s household, many had said she was climbing high, greedy for wealth and honor. Xie Linxu already looked down on her—if she spoke of such matters again, wouldn’t it only deepen his disdain?
On these things, Song Xingyue always clung to a shred of dignity, wanting to preserve at least a little face for herself. But with Grand Tutor Li’s birthday approaching, she would finally attend together with Xie Linxu. Surely she ought to dress properly. Plain garments were too old‑fashioned; she felt they were unsuitable.
On the way to Rongming Hall, Song Xingyue thought it over, then spoke to Xie Linxu: “Changzhou, could you have someone make me a new set of clothes?”
The Duke’s household was strict with rules. Even something as simple as ordering clothes was not within her power as a nominal young mistress.
But Xie Linxu was different. If he spoke, it would be done. His steps slowed. He asked, “Is it for going to the Li household?”
Song Xingyue did not hear the faint displeasure in his tone. She quickly answered, “Yes. I thought the clothes I have are really not very presentable. To attend a birthday celebration, they don’t seem fitting…”
Before she could finish speaking, Xie Linxu cut her off. “You are not the mistress of the household. Do you mean to outshine others?”
Song Xingyue’s words stuck in her throat. She unraveled his meaning, tasting it carefully, and soon understood the discord. He likely thought she wanted to compete, to overshadow someone. Back then, he had been set to marry the Li family’s third young lady, until she intervened. So now, when she asked for new clothes, he assumed she meant to go to the Li household and outshine his childhood betrothed. But that wasn’t it…
She wanted to say it wasn’t.
Yet after speaking, Xie Linxu said no more. He kept walking, his jaw tight, and she knew he was displeased again because of her words.
Her explanation was trapped at her lips. Even if she spoke, he would not believe. In his eyes, she was simply that kind of person. He would never know that she wanted decent clothes only because she had none. He would only think she sought something improper.
Last night’s osmanthus cake had made her believe he had changed —that perhaps, perhaps he no longer despised her so much. But now she saw she had only imagined it.
The two walked on in silence. Song Xingyue did not mention clothes again, and Xie Linxu did not bring it up. Thus they arrived at Rongming Hall.
That morning’s greetings passed unusually without incident. The whole family sat together peacefully for breakfast.
The Duke was always the last to arrive. Once he was seated, the meal could begin.
Duke Xie Xiu was now in his forties, wearing the crimson robe of a second‑rank official. Tall and lean, his face still bore traces of youthful handsomeness. Born of a noble clan, he now served as Minister of Personnel. His every gesture carried authority.
At the table, he looked to Xie Linxu and asked: “I heard you went to the palace recently. Did you see His Majesty? Is his health improved?”
Xie Linxu replied: “His Majesty summoned me to Qianqing Palace. We only spoke of ordinary matters. His complexion seemed fine—no serious trouble.”
Hearing the father and son’s exchange, Jingxi laughed aloud: “How could Imperial Brother have any serious trouble? If something were wrong, the Imperial Physicians would have filled Qianqing Palace long ago.”
No wonder—the two were siblings of the same mother. Jingxi truly understood her elder brother.
A few days earlier, Xie Linxu had entered the palace to see Emperor Jingning. The emperor’s complexion was rosy; he was certainly not so ill as to miss morning court.
In recent years, Emperor Jingning had been rather free‑spirited, acting without much order. Suspending court sessions was simply at his whim.
Xie Xiu did not press further on the matter. Instead, he turned to Jingxi and said: “In a few days it will be Grand Tutor Li’s birthday. Take some of the younger ones to pay respects. As for Mother… ask her whether she wishes to go to the Li household.”
The old Duke had passed away years before. Old Madam Xie still lived, secluded in Chongde Hall. She disliked the outside world and did not trouble the younger generation to visit her often.
Jingxi, born a princess, though now married into the Xie family, was long accustomed to privilege. She could tolerate the children paying her morning and evening respects, but for her to do so herself, day after day, was impossible. Old Madam Xie, with her gentle temperament, found such irregular greetings troublesome and insincere, and so excused her entirely.
It was said that Old Madam Xie and Old Madam Li had been close friends in youth. The childhood betrothal between Xie Linxu and the Li family’s third young lady had been arranged by them. The two children had often visited each other from an early age, their relationship good, and when they grew older, marriage was discussed.
But Old Madam Li had passed away some years ago. Later, Xie Linxu’s scandal erupted, and Old Madam Xie felt too ashamed to continue visiting the Lis. Over the years, their friendship faded.
Now, with Grand Tutor Li’s birthday, it was uncertain whether she would wish to attend.
Everyone present understood well why she might refuse.
In the end, it all came back to that incident with the Xie family, which had left them disgraced before the Lis.
Xie Xiu did not continue on the subject. At that moment, the youngest daughter, Xie Jinfei, looked toward Song Xingyue and suddenly asked: “Sister‑in‑law, will you be going?”
Xie Jinfei was only fifteen, charming in appearance, her eyes blinking innocently as she spoke, seemingly without malice. But Song Xingyue knew she did not truly like her. When she had first married in, thirteen‑year‑old Jinfei had tormented her greatly.
Still, Song Xingyue answered: “I will go.”
Xie Jinfei frowned. “Sister‑in‑law, do you really mean to go? Then I think Mother needn’t ask Grandmother. Grandmother won’t go either.”
Her meaning was clear: if Song Xingyue went, it would only embarrass everyone. On such a happy day, all would be made uncomfortable.
Xie Xiu spoke first: “How long ago was that? Can one cling to it for a lifetime? For an elder’s birthday, if the younger generation does not even show their faces, won’t people gossip and speculate all the more? Since things are as they are, why dwell on the past?”
It had already been two years of marriage—what use was there in speaking of the past? The fault had been the Xie family’s, but they had offered compensation to the Lis. Since there was no intent to sever ties, to keep clinging to that incident was only to bring themselves needless misery, weaving their own cocoon of suffering.
Jingxi remarked with a faintly mocking tone: “You are certainly broad‑minded and transparent.”
Xie Xiu was stung by her words, so much so that he could not continue eating. He replied with equal irony: “Not as much as you.” Then he set down his chopsticks and left the room.