Chapter 3

Song Xingyue truly could no longer bear to stay there. Her face visibly pale, she said to Jingxi, “Mother, I’m feeling unwell; your daughter-in-law will take her leave first.” Without waiting for anyone’s reaction, she swiftly departed.

Madam Huang watched Song Xingyue’s retreating figure and muttered a few words under her breath, clicking her tongue, “She’s still not content and leaves first…” Before she could finish, she caught Xie Linxu’s cold glare from across the room.

His features were sharp and refined, his narrow eyes starkly black and white, utterly devoid of emotion.

Madam Huang dared not utter another word after that icy look and fell silent. After all, Song Xingyue was his wife. Even though they had muddled through two years together, they still schemed against her openly, spoke of divorce right in front of him… The word “divorce” itself was too harsh. Xie Linxu had never mentioned it himself; what right did they have to gossip?

Having realized this, Madam Huang held her tongue. Eventually, Xie Linxu also excused himself, citing official duties, and left.

*

In the summer, the sun hung high in the clear blue sky. Song Xingyue, whether choked by the tea she drank or the words exchanged earlier, felt a strange tightness in her chest. The scorching sun steamed down on her as she hurried home, beads of sweat forming on her brow. Danping fanned her gently, saying, “Miss, slow down. Why rush so much?”

Perhaps it was the desperate urge to escape that made her unconsciously quicken her pace. By the time they returned to Qinghe Courtyard, her undergarments were soaked through with sweat.

Song Xingyue went to the purification chamber to change into a fresh set of clothes. The courtyard was never without cool air, even in midsummer, thanks to the constant presence of ice jars, yet despite this comfort, she still looked listless and could barely touch her morning meal.

The morning’s conversation at Rongming Hall had been too much, dredging up countless memories that stirred her melancholy.

No choice—marrying Xie Linxu was her greatest mistake.

Who was Xie Linxu? The heir of the Duke’s estate, a top scholar at twenty, a man whose reputation was untarnished, cold and aloof like a celestial exile. And she? Born of humble origins, with nothing to boast of save a face even she could not belittle.

Together, they were like a jade hairpin fallen into mud, a peony resting on thorns.

He was the jade; she was the mud. He was the peony; she was the thorns.

It wasn’t only the Duke’s household who despised her. Outsiders, out of respect for the family, said nothing to her face, but behind her back, the slanders were endless.

Her life had never been easy.

But it was all her own choice.

She had chosen to follow Xie Linxu into his chambers; that was her decision.

It didn’t matter.

She thought, it was no concern of hers.

Her days were spent with Xie Linxu. He was far easier to live with than others in the Xie family. Aside from his cold temperament, he was not unpleasant. As long as she bore him a child eventually, the hardships could be endured.

He would forget that reckless folly of youth.

Though married for two years, their intimacy remained infrequent, so the absence of pregnancy was understandable.

There was no use in rushing.

At last, Song Xingyue felt a slight easing in her breath, as if she could finally catch some air.

Just then, a maid brought in a delivery. Danping took it and handed it to her.

It was an invitation, sealed in golden paper.

Likely a birthday banquet.

Song Xingyue looked at the seal: “Li Family of the Capital.”

Seeing the name Li, her heart tightened.

The Li family was once matched for marriage with the Duke’s household.

Danping recognized the invitation too. “I heard the Li family’s elder is turning sixty. This must be their invitation to the Duke’s family.”

Song Xingyue did not open it, carefully tucking it away.

Danping was puzzled. “Miss, won’t you open it? Why keep it sealed?”

Song Xingyue replied, “The Li family’s matters should be seen by Changzhou himself.”

Back then, the Li elder had tutored the Crown Prince at court; the Emperor had arranged for Xie Linxu to accompany him as a fellow student. The elder was truly Xie Linxu’s teacher, and the Xie and Li families were old friends.

Xie Linxu’s betrothal to the Li family had been arranged from the cradle. If not for her, the two families would have long been united by marriage.

It was best not to open the invitation herself; let Xie Linxu handle it. Whatever the outcome, it was his responsibility.

Danping understood Song Xingyue’s meaning and muttered, “But Miss, if you ask the heir to open it, does that mean you won’t attend the Li family’s banquet?”

*

After all, she was the heir’s wife. Could she not even attend a birthday banquet?

Even if everyone knew the tensions, appearances must be maintained. If the rest of the Xie family went but she did not, what would that say? The gossip would only grow uglier.

Song Xingyue said nothing further.

Whether to attend was not hers to decide. If Xie Linxu didn’t want her to go and cause trouble, she could say nothing.

She would wait until he returned from duty to mention it and gauge his reaction.

By evening, around dusk, Song Xingyue had yet to see Xie Linxu.

Three years ago, after winning third place in the imperial exams, he had taken a position as a compiler at the Hanlin Academy. Due to his outstanding achievements, he was promoted to a fifth-rank assistant lecturer within two years. His talent was exceptional; besides his regular duties, he was occasionally summoned to assist the imperial cabinet—a clear sign of grooming for higher office.

According to the seasons, winter’s short days meant he often returned home after dark. But summer’s long daylight usually allowed him to come home while still light, unless official matters detained him.

Why was he so late today? Had official business held him up?

Just then, sounds came from outside—the servants greeting Xie Linxu.

Song Xingyue rose and stepped out, seeing him enter through the courtyard gate. A smile immediately curved her lips as she walked down the corridor to meet him.

“Changzhou, you’re home! Were you busy at the yamen today? Why are you so late? I was waiting to dine with you; the food’s getting cold.”

Night had fallen; red lacquered corridors were adorned with lanterns, the faint moonlight mingling with their glow, thickening shadows and illuminating the woman standing in the light with a surreal brightness.

Xie Linxu glanced at his ever-cheerful wife, her smile no different from before.

Whatever had happened that morning at Rong’an Hall seemed not to weigh on her mind.

Married for almost two years now, every evening when he returned from duty, he could always see Song Xingyue approaching with a smiling face. Regardless of what troubles or humiliations she endured during the day, upon his return, her eyes were always crescent moons.

There was nothing to be happy about, nothing worth smiling at, yet she persisted.

Still, Xie Linxu looked at her once, then averted his gaze.

Noticing she hadn’t eaten dinner, he wanted to say, “Next time, don’t wait for me; eat first.”

But the words that came out were, “I’ll eat myself; no need for you to wait.”

Harsh as ever.

He knew how to speak kindly but chose instead to pierce with sharpness.

Before others, Xie Linxu never spoke so bluntly; it was only with Song Xingyue that he was so cold.

Song Xingyue no longer took his bitterness to heart, but sensing his indifference, her smile faded slightly.

They entered the inner chamber side by side. She asked, “Were you busy at the yamen? It’s already dark.”

Indeed, the yamen had been busy. Yesterday he had visited the palace and returned early; today he stayed later to make up for lost time. Hearing her, he simply grunted, unwilling to explain further.

Once inside, Song Xingyue handed him the Li family’s invitation.

“Here’s the invitation from the Li family. Have a look.”

Xie Linxu took the sealed invitation, the characters “Li Family” standing out clearly.

It was a birthday invitation, unopened.

He already knew the details—the teacher’s sixtieth birthday—and had prepared gifts days ago.

Finally, he broke the seal. As expected, it invited them to celebrate the Li elder’s birthday.

The flickering candlelight softened his sharp features, dulling the coldness of youth somewhat.

He looked up at Song Xingyue. “Why didn’t you open it yourself?”

She sat beside him. “I thought I should show it to you first.”

She could open invitations from other families, but not the Li’s. She dared not.

Because the Li family was different to Xie Linxu—his childhood friend, his mentor, the two families’ long-standing ties…

Those were things she could not inquire about or understand.

Hearing this, Xie Linxu laughed—a rare, clear sound like clashing jade, melodious and crisp.

Song Xingyue thought she must have misheard; his face showed no trace of amusement. She doubted whether he had really laughed.

Before she could dwell on it, he spoke.

“You’ve learned your manners now.”

“Back then, when you drugged me and forced yourself on me, did you not know what was right and wrong?”

Xie Linxu hadn’t mentioned the past in a long time—long enough for Song Xingyue to think he might have forgotten. Yet now, he brought it up again, reminding her vividly of the disdain in his eyes two years ago when he saw her quietly follow him into the chamber.

That night, he was under the influence of the drug, his breath erratic. Yet when he saw her enter, he still tried to push her out with his waning consciousness.

But Song Xingyue refused to leave. She taunted him softly.

“Sir, what’s wrong? Drunk? Feeling unwell? Shall I fetch a doctor?”

She spoke and approached, touching him lightly.

Though she hadn’t administered the drug, by then it hardly mattered—her actions rendered the source irrelevant.

Xie Linxu could never forget the past. His loathing for her had been absolute from the start. A man like him, an ethereal noble, deserved a happy union. How could he be sullied by someone like her? How could he not despise her?

Song Xingyue dared not continue, fearing worse cruelty.

She feigned ignorance and said, “Then go with Mother-in-law and the others. I… I’m unwell and won’t attend.”

Xie Linxu folded the letter and replied, “What’s the use of hiding? It’s a senior’s birthday; the juniors can’t shirk their duties.”

He expected her to go.

But whether his tone had softened or something else, Song Xingyue suddenly felt a pang in her side. She looked at him and said, “If you think so poorly of me and say I bring trouble to the elders, wouldn’t that be even more unfilial?”

Noticing her tone, Xie Linxu raised his eyelids. “Are you unhappy?”

Her moods—joy, anger, shame—were all too easily read by him. Perhaps his perception was too keen, or he simply knew her too well. Her desires and flaws lay bare before him.

Song Xingyue was indeed unhappy. He had reduced her to this state, yet now he asked as if ignorant.

She wanted to speak kindly, but he had greeted her with nothing but harsh words, killing her will to talk.

“No, I’m not unhappy.” Her smile vanished, cold and distant. “I have no appetite. I won’t eat.”

With that, she left without waiting for his response.

Xie Linxu said nothing, his gaze fixed on her retreating figure, lips tightly pressed.

That evening, they neither argued nor quarreled, yet after that, not a word was exchanged.

After dinner, Xie Linxu went to his study, and Song Xingyue retired to bed alone.

When he returned near midnight, she was still awake.

The moon hung silent and clear; the night was deep and still, with insects hushed. The full moon cast a faint light that barely illuminated the room once the lamps were extinguished, yet the atmosphere remained heavy and suffocating.

Song Xingyue lay awake, restless. After the morning’s humiliation at Rongming Hall, she had barely eaten all day; now, at midnight, hunger gnawed at her belly.

She turned her head to look at Xie Linxu, who showed no movement and breathed shallowly—likely asleep.

Silently, she rose and climbed down from the bed, crossing over him.

The Duke’s household was strict; she had never dared to climb over him before, always restrained and obedient, lest he complain about her manners.

Now, she cared little—he was asleep anyway.

By moonlight, she groped toward the table and noticed a pastry left there, though the dim light made it hard to discern.

Xie Linxu was fastidious, disliking food left in the bedroom; servants would never leave such things.

Where had it come from?

Song Xingyue didn’t ponder long, took a piece, and ate it—it was osmanthus cake.

As she ate, her hunger subsided, and her mind cleared somewhat.

The servants would not have left it; only Xie Linxu could have.

Why did he leave cake?

She didn’t overthink it, eating two pieces before stopping.

She brushed away the crumbs and climbed back over Xie Linxu onto the bed.

But as she landed on him, he suddenly spoke.

“Go rinse your mouth.”