One of Song Qingyuan’s classmates exclaimed in surprise, “Qingyuan, isn’t that…?”
Another classmate added, “Why did she ignore you? That’s so strange. Could she be mad at you?”
The first classmate quickly shook his head. “That’s impossible. Even if it rained blood from the sky, the Nie family girl would never be angry with Qingyuan. Maybe she’s just tired from all the embroidery and her eyesight is acting up?”
But she had clearly looked their way just now.
Song Qingyuan pressed his thin lips together and tightened his grip on his book. “Let’s go,” he said flatly.
He turned and walked away, his expression calm, though his mind was racing. What’s wrong with her?
In the past, the moment she saw him from afar, she would flutter over like a little magpie before he could even speak. She would circle him endlessly, asking if he’d eaten well, slept well, and if studying was wearing him out. She’d remind him to take care of himself and not overwork. Then, when no one was looking, she’d slip him a meat bun or a sweet bean paste bun, or present him with a newly sewn book cover to encourage his studies.
After not seeing her for several days, her sudden, unexplained coldness felt incredibly strange.
Is she… playing hard to get? he wondered, his brow furrowing slightly. Who taught her that?
Nie Qinghe felt a flicker of satisfaction. I never liked that bookworm anyway, she thought. He can go find somewhere else to be a nuisance.
It was nearly noon, so Nie Qinghe didn’t linger. She hurried home, knowing Mother Nie was waiting. When she’d left earlier, her mother had seemed eager to stop her, as if afraid her daughter would immediately go looking for the little scholar the moment she felt better.
Her home was in Jing’er Alley, just north of East Street. She took a shortcut through the market east of Daci Pavilion, then cut through Biandan Alley.
The alley echoed with the clatter of pots and pans as families prepared their meals. In some homes, parents scolded their children while they fought over food.
The thick, lively atmosphere reminded Nie Qinghe of her childhood. These single-story houses offered no privacy, and the sounds she heard were identical to those from the place she’d shared with her mother.
Thinking of Mother Nie waiting at home, she quickened her pace, ignoring the two small mud puddles she stepped in along the way. Reaching a peeling wooden door deep in the alley, she pushed it open and called out brightly, “Mom, I’m back!”
“It’s the middle of the day! Where were you? Isn’t it too hot?” Mother Nie’s voice immediately came from the courtyard. “I told you to stop running around so much, especially since you’re just getting your strength back.”
The nagging tone felt strangely familiar, bringing a warm image of her own mother to mind.
She gave a playful smile. “I went all the way to the Nankeng vegetable patch to buy groceries! They’re even cheaper than the market at the front of our alley. The lady running it thought I was pretty and gave me an extra bunch for free. We have plenty for dinner.”
Mother Nie glanced at the fresh, crisp vegetables, then her eyes swept over her daughter again. She pursed her lips, thinking, What is she talking about? Who travels all the way to Nankeng for vegetables? She obviously went to the Prefectural Academy to find Song Qingyuan.
She was deeply dissatisfied with him, but she didn’t dare say much for fear of upsetting her daughter. After all, Qinghe had been in a feverish coma for three days and had spent the next two just staring blankly into space before finally recovering today.
On the Dragon Boat Festival, Qinghe hadn’t told her she was going to find Song Qingyuan, but seeing her get all dressed up and excited, Mother Nie had put two and two together. A single thread tied the two of them together, with Qinghe at one end and Song Qingyuan at the other—even a fool could see that. Her daughter poured her heart and soul into him, yet he remained distant and cool. At least she didn’t have to worry about him behaving improperly.
On that day, Mother Nie had waited anxiously for her daughter to return. Usually, after delivering a gift and exchanging a few words, Song Qingyuan would go back to his studies, and Qinghe would head home. But this time, the hours had dragged on.
When it started raining, Mother Nie worried her daughter hadn’t taken an umbrella, so she grabbed a conical hat and a paper parasol to go look for her. She arrived at the Prefectural Academy soaked to the skin, only to be told by someone she asked that Song Qingyuan had gone home the day before and wasn’t there. Panicked, she rushed off, splashing through puddles to find her husband, telling him to take their eldest son and his apprentices to look for Qinghe at the Song family’s house.
But Mother Song merely said that Song Qingyuan had gone to his eldest aunt’s house early that morning. She then added that Qinghe hadn’t been to her home, so she must have gone off to play somewhere else. Not a single word of concern was offered.
In the end, the clinic sent a young assistant to their home with a message: their daughter had fainted at their clinic’s entrance. That was how they finally found her—unconscious and burning with a high fever.
The clinic’s mistress explained that she had heard knocking at the door, but when she opened it, she found Nie Qinghe lying outside. She assumed the girl had fallen into the large pit to the south, gotten injured, and come seeking medical help, only to collapse from exhaustion.
Her daughter looked absolutely wretched then—her eyes were swollen like peaches, and her hair was like muddy, rotting straw. Fortunately, her clothes were intact; though covered in mud, they were still tightly wrapped around her. It took the clinic’s mistress a great deal of effort to help her get cleaned up.
But Mother Nie had her doubts. Her daughter was covered in mud—on her hands, her hair—yet her face was clean. Could someone have carried her to the clinic? If so, why would they do a good deed and not leave their name? It was likely a man, who might have worried that being seen would spread gossip and damage her reputation.
As long as her daughter was safe and sound, Mother Nie didn’t want to cause any trouble over her reputation.
Fortunately, the clinic’s mistress was an upright woman of good reputation. She stated plainly that Nie Qinghe had fallen into the big pit and come seeking help on her own, which prevented any gossip from spreading. Otherwise, a beautiful young girl found unconscious and soaked at the clinic’s door in the middle of the night would have sparked endless rumors, even if she was unharmed.
Mother Nie, who was always very thrifty and mindful of her spending, specially prepared a generous gift to thank the clinic’s mistress. But the woman refused to accept it, saying that saving the sick and injured was the duty of any physician. Her only request was for Mother Nie to visit her more often and perhaps give her daughter some guidance on needlework. Mother Nie readily agreed, and the two women became good friends.
Compared to the clinic’s mistress, Mother Song’s behavior was utterly disgraceful. The thought of her made Mother Nie’s blood boil.
What did she mean by, “Qinghe probably went off to play on her own”? Her daughter never went out to play by herself—the only person she ever went looking for was Song Qingyuan!
And after her daughter had fallen into a pit and suffered a high fever for three days, the Song family hadn’t even asked about her. It was as if they knew nothing at all. Although Mother Nie had asked the clinic’s mistress not to tell anyone, the Song family were not strangers. When her husband went there to search for Qinghe, couldn’t they have shown a little concern and asked if she had been found?
But in the end, neither Song Qingyuan nor his mother showed any concern whatsoever. How could Mother Nie not be furious? Even now, the mere thought of the Song family made her seethe.
The whole family—ungrateful wolves!
Mother Nie had once been happy about the arranged marriage between her daughter and the Song family.
Nie Erzhuang and Song Kun, Song Qingyuan’s father, had been close friends since their youth. Back then, Nie Erzhuang was an apprentice to his father in Hejian Prefecture, while Song Kun worked as a government runner there. During a heavy summer rain, Song Kun was knocked unconscious by several thugs while on official business.
Nie Erzhuang had rescued him, brought him to his master’s house, hired a physician, and cared for him diligently. After Song Kun recovered, he thanked Nie Erzhuang profusely, and the two men swore an oath of brotherhood, cementing the bond between their families.
After she married Nie Erzhuang, Song Kun had suggested they become in-laws by marrying their children. Nie Erzhuang naturally agreed.
Later, when both men were transferred to Jintai City, their friendship grew even stronger.
Unfortunately, both families had sons as their firstborns. The Song family subsequently lost two children to miscarriage and another boy died in infancy, leaving Song Qingyuan as their only child. Mother Nie, on the other hand, gave birth to Nie Qinghe as her second child, followed by another daughter and a son.
In the early years, the Song family was very pleased with the engagement. Mother Song even constantly declared, “Qinghe is my daughter-in-law,” and frequently invited Qinghe and her younger brother to stay with them for a few days.
Things only started to change when the Song family’s eldest aunt’s husband struck it rich in business.
When the eldest aunt’s husband struck it rich, he came back to help his brother, paying for Song Kun to take the official examinations. Song Kun proved himself capable, passing all three levels of the exam. He shed his status as a lowly clerk and, after spending a fortune on bribes and connections, transformed into a County Magistrate.
For the past two years, Song Kun had been serving as an official in another city, while Mother Song and Song Qingyuan remained in Jintai City. Song Qingyuan was also a star student, having become a Tongsheng at thirteen. At sixteen, he earned his Xiucai degree and was now studying at the Prefectural Academy.
Living in Jintai City, Mother Nie had encountered many merchants from all over the country, which had broadened her horizons. Combined with Mother Song’s subtle boasting and the eldest aunt’s blatant showing-off, she understood all too well that passing the Xiucai exam meant one foot was already in the world of the wealthy and powerful. If he were to become a Juren in a few years, he would be a true lord!
Ordinary people like them would have to kowtow on the ground just to see such a person.
Thinking of the eldest aunt’s arrogant, nose-in-the-air attitude—the way she looked down on the Nie family and Nie Qinghe—made Mother Nie fume with rage!
In her eyes, her daughter was both beautiful and clever; what kind of family couldn’t she marry into? Even Squire Liu, the owner of Jewelry Pavilion—whose massive estate spanned two alleys—wanted Qinghe to marry his third son. Although a concubine-born son could not inherit the family estate, Third Young Master Liu was known for his gentle nature, kindness, and diligence in his studies. He could certainly lead a comfortable, modest life on his own.
What was Nie Qinghe lacking?
If her daughter hadn’t been so stubborn, clinging to that callous little scholar, would she even care?
Her daughter had been unconscious for three whole days after her fall. When she finally woke up, she wouldn’t even say what had happened that day, claiming she’d just accidentally fallen into a pit. Yet the moment she was awake, she rushed off to the south of the city again.
The man wouldn’t even come to visit her, but she would go to him. Wasn’t she just looking for heartache?
And her father was such a fool. All he could do was fret over his daughter’s fall, completely failing to ask why she’d gone to the south of the city in the first place, or why she’d fallen into a pit. Wasn’t it all connected to Song Qingyuan?
While Mother Nie fumed, Nie Qinghe went to a stone basin nearby to wash her face and hands. She then changed into straw sandals to prepare to scrub her cloth shoes.
Mother Nie snatched them away, scrubbing them briskly. “You’re all grown up now, no longer listening to your mother.”
Despite her mountain of grievances, in the end, this was the only complaint she could muster. She couldn’t bring herself to say a single harsh word to her daughter.
It wasn’t that Nie Qinghe didn’t listen—it was just that whenever it concerned the little Xiucai, she refused.
Nie Qinghe lowered her eyes, watching Mother Nie crouch on the ground scrubbing her shoes. Her eyes grew moist, and a bittersweet ache tightened her nose. This mother was so similar to her own—just as naggy, yet just as devoted to her child.
Qinghe bent down, scooped water from the small jar with a ladle, and rinsed the shoes Mother Nie had just scrubbed. “Mom, don’t worry,” she said softly. “No matter how old I get, I’ll always listen to you.”
To hell with that little scholar, she thought.
Mother Nie looked at her daughter in surprise, studying her face. Qinghe was as beautiful as ever, but her temperament seemed to have changed.
Though she would never admit it, Mother Nie had always felt her daughter was a bit too naive and stubborn. Qinghe was usually carefree and completely lacking in guile, yet she’d become incredibly sharp whenever Song Qingyuan was involved. It was as if she owed a debt to the Song family from a past life.
But now, looking into her daughter’s clear, bright eyes, Mother Nie saw a calm and composed young woman. Qinghe no longer seemed to be daydreaming about Song Qingyuan, her face no longer breaking into a silly smile at the mere thought of him.
She’s finally brought her soul back from Song Qingyuan, Mother Nie thought.
The tightness that had burdened her chest for years finally loosened, allowing her to breathe again. If Qinghe really doesn’t care about Song Qingyuan anymore, I’ll go to Niangniang Temple and kowtow thirty times!
Since everyone else was out, the two of them ate lunch together.
In addition to the usual side dishes, Mother Nie had prepared a bowl of steamed egg custard for Qinghe. It was garnished with chopped green onions and a few drops of sesame oil, smelling wonderfully fragrant. However, it had been overcooked, making it dry and unappealing in both appearance and texture.
Yet, Qinghe ate it with relish, even offering to share it with her mother.
Mother Nie refused to take a bite, waving her away. “You eat it, dear. Seeing you well is more satisfying to me than any meal.”
And if I can just kick that ungrateful little wolf out of my head, I’ll feel even better, she thought.
Qinghe smiled. “I’m all recovered now, Mom. I’m fine.”
When she had first woken up, she’d suffered from a high fever for several days. She also had a large bump on her head, though thankfully there were no open wounds. By now, the swelling had gone down significantly, and it only hurt when she pressed on it.
Still, Mother Nie couldn’t shake her worry. She carefully examined her daughter’s head. “You are better, thank goodness. You’re a lucky one, child. If you’d fallen into that pit and been unable to get out…”
The thought made her tremble with fear.
But Nie Qinghe knew someone had saved her. She just didn’t know why he’d chosen to remain anonymous. She vaguely remembered his voice—it was a beautiful, deep voice, the kind that could rival a professional voice actor. If she could only hear it one more time, she was certain she could recognize him.
Come to think of it, this was the best way for it to have gone down. Even if he’d just been trying to help, his appearance would have inevitably sparked gossip among the nosy neighbors, which would only have caused more trouble.
After cleaning up after the meal, Mother Nie went into the room and brought out a pair of shoes the original owner had nearly finished making, along with the sewing basket.
At the sight of them, Mother Nie’s heart sank into a bottomless abyss. Her chest felt cold. Song Qingyuan was truly her daughter’s bane. Even after all he’d put her through, Qinghe was still making shoes for him.
“Qinghe, you’ve just gotten better. You should go lie down and rest more, don’t do any more sewing.”
Nie Qinghe had always made Song Qingyuan’s shoes. They fit him perfectly and were comfortable to wear, so he’d always worn them. Every year, she’d make him two pairs of light shoes and one pair of winter boots, without fail. The Song family took them for granted, delivering the fabric on schedule with a polite thank-you, acting as if Qinghe were one of their own maids. Only her father was honest and simple-minded enough to think that Mother Song treated Qinghe like family, not as an outsider.
Nie Qinghe wore a faint smile. “Mom, I’m just finishing the uppers.”
Seeing her mother’s face darken with a look of utter despair, she smiled playfully. “Brother Qingyuan’s shoes are old, after all. He needs a new pair, doesn’t he?”
Oh my!
Mother Nie’s eyes lit up. She could hardly believe it. Had her daughter finally seen the truth and given up on Song Qingyuan?
If that were the case, she hoped Mother Song would quickly speak up and call off the engagement. After all, their son had passed the Xiucai exam and was a brilliant student. He was bound to become a Juren in the future. Their own family’s status wouldn’t match his, and they had no intention of trying to social climb. This would save Song Qingyuan’s eldest aunt and Mother Song from their constant dissatisfaction.
Nie Qinghe knew exactly what her mother was thinking. Mother Nie had no desire to climb the social ladder; she preferred dealing with people of her own standing. Especially since Mother Song had begun acting like the wife of a County Magistrate, Mother Nie felt as if she’d been pricked by a needle every time she saw her, making her reluctant to even meet with her.
Deciding to give her mother the reassurance she needed to feel completely relieved, Qinghe said casually, “Mom, you and Dad should find a good time to tell Mother Song. Their family now has official status, while we are just an artisan household. The social hierarchy of scholar, farmer, artisan, and merchant means we are no longer equals.”
She smiled faintly. “Let’s just forget about that engagement.”