No one expected Song Xingyue to be so unyielding today. It was as if she had taken some strange medicine—her retorts were sharp and biting.
The woman who had mocked her wanted to argue further, but just then voices came from the doorway, announcing greetings. It was Jingxi, arriving with the other Xie women.
The woman’s words of dispute were swallowed back down.
Everyone knew that Song Xingyue and Xie Linxu’s relationship was strained, and that the Xie family did not value her as the heir’s wife. But Jingxi was different. If she were present and overheard them slandering the Xies, she would be angered.
No one dared offend Jingxi—she had an emperor brother who doted on her. To offend her was to offend the Xie family itself, and that was unthinkable.
Jingxi entered with Madam Li and took her seat among the Xie family. The matter was quickly smoothed over; everyone laughed and brushed it aside.
Yet Jingxi immediately sensed the odd atmosphere. Looking at Song Xingyue, she asked: “Did you quarrel with them again just now?”
Song Xingyue only said no. Jingxi did not press further, as Madam Li and the others pulled her into conversation.
Meanwhile, Xie Linxu had gone into the main hall to find Grand Tutor Li.
On this day, the old tutor wore the robes of a first‑rank official, seated in a grand chair.
The noise outside was too much for his age, so he received guests inside, one after another, offering birthday congratulations.
The younger members of the Li family had already paid their respects earlier. The outside guests came briefly to greet him, then were led away. When Xie Linxu arrived, the room was momentarily quiet. He entered, lifted his robe, knelt before the tutor, and bowed his head: “Your student comes late, to wish you longevity like the pine and crane, prosperity like orchids and laurels, blessings as vast as the sea and mountains, and honor among the elders.”
The Grand Tutor rose and personally helped him up. “Stand, stand. To greet me with such ceremony, I must even help you rise.”
Xie Linxu dared not remain kneeling. He stood and supported the tutor back to his seat.
The Grand Tutor said: “I know you’ve been busy at the Hanlin Academy. That you took leave to come today shows your heart.”
Xie Linxu replied: “This is only what a student ought to do.”
The Grand Tutor asked: “I heard you entered the palace recently. Did you see His Majesty?”
The emperor had suspended court for nearly half a month. Apart from the eunuchs of the Directorate of Ceremonial, even the Grand Council could not see him. What was happening?
Xie Linxu gave a quiet “Mm,” then said: “His Majesty should be coming out soon.”
The Grand Tutor asked curiously: “How do you know?”
Xie Linxu lowered his head: “The war in the northern frontier is ending. Young General Ji is returning.”
As a Hanlin scholar, his ears were sharp. He often learned news before it was made public.
Hearing that the war was ending, the Grand Tutor understood. Stroking his long white beard, he sighed: “General Ji is truly capable. In just over two years, the northern frontier has been pacified.”
Xie Linxu showed little emotion, but added a compliment: “Like father, like son. General Ji was a dragon among men when he led the army. Now that Young General Ji has secured the northern frontier, it is truly a son continuing his father’s legacy.”
Grand Tutor Li did not notice the change in his tone. He thought of something, his brows twitching, and asked: “So if the northern war ends, won’t the military funds be freed up? When His Majesty returns, will he not revive the idea of building a Daoist temple?”
Earlier, around the start of July, Emperor Jingning had proposed constructing a Daoist temple in the palace. But the Minister of Revenue calculated the accounts and hinted that the treasury was empty, with no spare funds.
The emperor grew displeased. Confronted with the numbers, he did not argue. In anger, he claimed illness and suspended court for nearly a month. If the northern war ended, wouldn’t there suddenly be a large sum of idle money?
Thinking of this, the Grand Tutor sighed deeply: “His Majesty… His Majesty… How has he come to favor alchemists, build temples, and brew elixirs? So many emperors before sought immortality, yet which ever succeeded? Is this not folly?”
Xie Linxu counseled: “Teacher, today is your birthday. Do not let anger spoil it.”
After all, nothing could be changed. He was the emperor—whatever his faults, he was still the emperor. To ruin such a fine day with these worries was not worth it.
The two chatted a little more, then stopped. When the time was right, Xie Linxu helped the Grand Tutor rise and go outside to join the banquet.
The Li household did not quiet down until evening. Families departed one after another. The Xies were the last to leave. Jingxi and the others had already gone after polite farewells, but Xie Linxu was held back by the Lis for further conversation.
Song Xingyue, after the banquet ended, stayed close by his side, lingering as well. Seeing that he had business with the Lis, she did not intrude. Claiming she felt stifled, she waited outside under the corridor.
In front of the hall was a small ink‑black pond, with lotus blossoms floating on it. Song Xingyue idly watched the pond to pass the time, while the sound of laughter and talk between Xie Linxu and the Lis drifted out. He never smiled at her. Even when he laughed, it was usually in mockery.
But here, in the Li household, he laughed freely. Here, he was happy. Beside her, he was lifeless. She fiddled with her fingers, waiting. Only when the sky grew dark did Xie Linxu finally emerge.
Li Huaixin came out to see him off. The three walked together toward the gate. After a few steps, Xie Linxu stopped her: “The weather is hot. You should go back first.”
Li Huaixin did not insist on accompanying them further. “Very well. Take care on your way home.”
Xie Linxu bid her farewell, while Song Xingyue kept her head lowered, silent throughout.
Li Huaixin glanced at her and said: “Don’t mind what they said earlier. Your outfit is lovely. It was only unfortunate mine was similar—that’s all.”
At last, Song Xingyue reacted. She lifted her head and replied: “It was my fault. It has nothing to do with Miss Li.”
Li Huaixin smiled faintly, said no more, and departed.
By now the sky was dark, lanterns lit in the Li household. The two walked out beneath the moonlight.
Xie Linxu did not know what had happened among the women, but those few words made him sense something. “What happened just now?” he asked.
Song Xingyue knew that if she told him, he would only mock her. He would say, *Hadn’t I already told you to behave quietly?*
If she spoke, he would scold her. So she chose not to.
For once, she openly showed her displeasure, lowering her eyes: “It’s nothing. Don’t ask. Let’s go home.”
The night sky was pitch black. Song Xingyue felt as though she could find no path out of this darkness. Her two years in the Xie household were like this one outfit—no matter how she tried, in the end it was always shabby, always unworthy. The harder she struggled, the more bitter it became. She had climbed into a noble family, only to find she couldn’t even have a decent set of clothes. She even wondered if, had she chosen another path, life might have been easier.
Xie Linxu could not see her expression clearly. She had already walked ahead, so he followed.
When they boarded the carriage, Song Xingyue remained silent. She did not sit beside him, but leaned against the window, lifting the curtain to watch the night outside.
It was not yet curfew; the streets were still lively with people.
Thinking of the grievances she had endured these days, she watched until tears fell, her face wet with them.
Xie Linxu heard her faint sobs and finally spoke: “I told you long ago—don’t fight over such things.”
Why dress so brightly at another family’s birthday? What was she trying to prove?
Song Xingyue had known he would say this. His words drifted into her ears, and she could bear no more of his lectures. She turned to him and asked: “Changzhou, tell me—what am I even competing for?”
A small lamp burned in the carriage, casting her face pale. Tears slid down her cheeks, glimmering in the candlelight.
Seeing her cry so fiercely, Xie Linxu was struck silent, then said: “Then why are you crying?”
Song Xingyue answered, word by word: “I don’t understand. I only wanted to dress decently, to look presentable. Why is it so shameful in your eyes? Others may wear such clothes, yet I alone cannot? Just this once, I put on a neat new outfit, and from morning till night I’ve been mocked. If it must be so, then I will never do it again.”
Having spoken, she feared he might argue further. She gave him no chance, turning back to the window, hiding her face against her arm. She cried so hard it hurt, determined not to respond to anything Xie Linxu said.
He was quiet for a while, as though he had no intention of speaking further. Song Xingyue thought perhaps she had angered him enough that he no longer wished to bother with her. But the next moment, Xie Linxu sat beside her, turned her shoulders, and made her face him.
He said: “For such a small matter, why cry like this? If someone hears, they’ll think I struck you.”
A small matter? Did he know how many of these “small matters” she had endured over the past two years?
Hearing him, Song Xingyue’s reason returned a little. She dared not continue her outburst. Red‑eyed, she whispered: “Better you strike me outright—it would be cleaner.”
“Nonsense,” Xie Linxu snapped, tossing her a handkerchief. “If you want new clothes, choose the right occasion. Why insist on this day?”
Song Xingyue felt his words were still wrong. It wasn’t about the day—it was because they were going to the Li household. In his eyes, whatever she did was aimed at Li Huaixin. The occasion hardly mattered.
But she did not argue. Comparing herself to Li Huaixin was too presumptuous.
She only wiped her tears, sobbing: “Mother doesn’t like me—you know that. I don’t want to tell you these things, because I need some dignity. But think about it: in these two years, have I ever had a proper set of clothes? Old‑fashioned styles aside, the winter clothes don’t keep me warm, the summer clothes don’t breathe. I only wanted one decent outfit, to look a little better. You think too ill of me—far too ill.”
For once, Xie Linxu was silent. He did not mock her.
Speaking these words, Song Xingyue felt some of the weight lift from her chest. To ease the tension, she laughed through her tears and teased: “What is it, Changzhou? Do you think perhaps I look good enough that even these clothes don’t seem so bad?”
Perhaps because her grief was too raw, Xie Linxu didn’t reply harshly. He stayed silent for a long time, then finally said: “Enough. Don’t cry. I understand.”