“Just say it.”
“Mama Yuan said that Lady Yin, in her current situation, cannot return home to pay respects with her family. She is deeply troubled and feels even more guilty toward her late father. On such a day, a child naturally wishes to do something to honor their parent. If she could go to the nearby Tianyin Nunnery to hold a memorial service for her father and pray for his blessings…”
“Who brought this up?”
Changrui shook his head. “Lady Yin did not mention it outright. It was Mama Yuan who noticed her copying sutras these past few days and asked which sutra she was copying. Lady Yin said it was the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva Fundamental Vow Sutra. She also said that to properly honor the deceased, one should complete the ritual at a temple or nunnery, for only then would it carry great spiritual power. Mama Yuan worried that Lady Yin’s spirits were low and that her pent-up emotions might be detrimental to the pregnancy. She thought Tianyin Nunnery was remote and not heavily frequented, so she dared to raise the matter.”
“Her concern is not without merit.”
Zhao Shiyan frowned slightly, then his brow smoothed.
He instructed Changrui, “Take a tael of silver to that serving woman. From now on, report to me promptly if anything happens at the Cassia Courtyard. Also, send someone ahead to Tianyin Nunnery to make arrangements. Since she is going, have the monks and nuns conduct a proper ceremony, and set up a transmigration tablet for the deceased so she may find solace in mourning. All offerings must be prepared in full—do not let the lady trouble herself.”
He paused, then added, “The Ksitigarbha Sutra is not short. Copying it will take at least ten-odd days. Have her spend some time there each day, but don’t let her overtire herself.”
He would not be able to set foot in the Cassia Courtyard again before mid-next month.
She would be there alone—a square courtyard beneath a square patch of sky, with nothing to do but wait in emptiness.
Only two elderly serving women attended her, not even a young maid to keep her company. It must be dreadfully dull.
Going to the nunnery to copy sutras would serve both to honor her late father’s memory and to give her some diversion.
Chang Rong, who had been waiting in the corridor all along, was not as trusted as his elder brother Changrui, but he was also in the know.
Seeing Zhao Shiyan turn and enter his chamber, he shot Changrui a look while clicking his tongue in amazement.
They had served the Second Master for a long time. Such thoughtfulness, such tenderness—they had only ever seen him display it toward one person.
Besides the Second Mistress, who else enjoyed such fortune?
Well, now there was one more.
Only they couldn’t tell whether the Second Master truly wanted the surrogate mother to be in good spirits for the sake of the child, or whether something else was mixed in.
If it was the latter, then the Second Mistress…
Chang Rong glanced at the gloomy sky outside. “Not good. I fear a great storm is brewing.”
Changrui shot him a glare. “Mind your tongue.”
He clattered down the stairs and relayed Zhao Shiyan’s words to Mama Yuan.
Mama Yuan hurried off, overjoyed.
In truth, had she really been passing by by chance?
To gain entry into the Marquis of Anguo’s residence, she had put in considerable effort, and it had not been wasted.
Though the acquaintances she made were only cart-pullers, vegetable vendors, and the servants and serving women at the side gate, they had their uses all the same.
With wine and meat to ply them and the occasional handful of coins, she had no trouble learning of Second Master Yan’s whereabouts.
She had only not expected Second Master Yan to be so agreeable—he consented the moment she raised it. Mama Yuan had prepared a whole host of arguments, none of which she’d needed to use.
While Mama Yuan bustled back to the Cassia Courtyard with the good news, Zhao Shiyan grew increasingly listless. He took his leave of the company and returned home.
As before, in the days following his visit to the Cassia Courtyard, Tong Jinxian felt aggrieved and refused to share his bed, sending him off to sleep in the study.
At least they were both within Manyuan Garden, so word would not easily leak out, and there was no fear of his mother-in-law learning of it.
It was always the same: Zhao Shiyan would coax and plead endlessly before winning her smile and permission to return to their bed.
But the next time, it would be the same all over again.
Round and round it went. Zhao Shiyan was not exactly weary of it, but he was somewhat fatigued and dispirited.
Moreover, because of his loss of control last time, he found it hard to face his wife, so this time he did not pursue her reconciliation as eagerly as before.
He had been staying in the study these past few days and had actually found it rather peaceful.
But tonight, his heart was far from tranquil.
Perhaps it was because of that pipa player, and Mama Yuan as well.
His heart had been stirred again.
In truth, even without the pipa player or Mama Yuan, he had found himself thinking of her involuntarily these past days.
Yin Xuesu—that was her name.
Indeed, she lived up to it.
A person like ice and snow, yet with a charm all her own in the bedchamber.
That face, too exquisite for any craftsman to capture, floated unbidden before his eyes.
Cheeks flushed, the corners of her eyes wet and red, her slender neck arched in a graceful curve, pearl-white teeth gently biting her lower lip as she struggled to suppress her voice.
It was the very image of passion carried to its extreme.
He still remembered that after that day, unable to contain his tenderness, he had drawn her into his arms.
She had nestled against his chest like that—docile and dependent.
Zhao Shiyan had softly asked her why she wept.
She was silent for a long while, then answered in a voice barely audible: “I know my place. I should not harbor such thoughts, but… you are the first man I have ever had. I… I…”
She trailed off, tears falling in a stream.
Zhao Shiyan patted her back and wiped her tears with his fingers.
She sobbed: “Does my lord remember the second time you came to the Cassia Courtyard? Because you arrived earlier than the appointed hour, I had not yet prepared myself.”
The truth was, she had only just been persuaded by the matchmaker.
The first time had happened while she was dazed and unaware, but the second time was to be done in full consciousness, and her heart had resisted fiercely.
“The moment my lord entered the courtyard, I caught sight of your figure through the crack in the door…”
She did not continue, but Zhao Shiyan already understood.
She was at the age when love first blossoms. He was her first man, and she had seen him long before. After sharing passion on the same couch, knowing full well she should not harbor such feelings, she still could not suppress the budding of affection.
That explained many of her earlier actions.
It was not merely passion during intimacy—her heart had been moved as well.
So she could not resist drawing close to him, yet inwardly blamed herself endlessly.
Caught between two conflicting impulses, at a loss for what to do, she had cried in distress.
Seeing that he remained silent for a long while, she lifted her tear-streaked face, her moist eyes brimming with tenderness, and gazed at him: “It is my fault. Please, my lord, blame me.”
Zhao Shiyan shook his head and pulled her into an even tighter embrace.
How could he blame her?
When feelings run deep, even a sage cannot resist.
They say a gentleman seeks the fair maiden—the reverse holds true as well.
She was new to the ways of love, knowing nothing yet. How could he bear to reproach her?
“I do not blame you.”
He kissed her smooth forehead, the kiss lingering as it traveled downward, deepening.
His hand still rested against her jade-like back, the silky smoothness tempting him to caress it slowly, as one would stroke the finest satin.
As their cheeks brushed and breaths mingled, his breathing unconsciously grew heavier. The body he had just calmed stirred once more.
He wished for another round, but time was already up. Mindful of the person in the adjoining room, he could only suppress the urge and reluctantly pull away.
Zhao Shiyan lay on the couch, endlessly savoring the memory, tossing and turning, growing ever more sleepless until he finally rose.
Without waking the attendant on night duty in the outer room, he went to his desk, spread a sheet of treated xuan paper, lifted his brush, dipped it in ink, and began to sketch with careful strokes.
Though he had no fondness for poetry or scholarly pursuits, he had some interest in painting. Having studied under a renowned master since childhood, his skill was quite presentable after all these years.
He pondered as he painted, and before long, a graceful figure emerged on the paper.
Finally, he inscribed a dedication in the blank space and pressed his personal seal upon it.
Only then did the restless heart that had clamored all night finally settle.
He stood with arms crossed, examining the work for a while longer. Once the ink had dried, he rolled it up and stored it away, then returned to the couch to sleep.
A night of sweet dreams.
Yin Xuesu, however, lay awake all night.
She was preparing for her trip to Tianyin Nunnery.
It was true that her father’s death anniversary had arrived, but that was not the only reason she was going.
She had a more important purpose.
She was going to meet someone.