Having said all she needed to say, Chu Linlang rose, put her veiled hat back on, and walked out of the restaurant with her maids.

There were a few things Chu Linlang had not told the second Miss Xie — namely, that she had already commissioned someone to write a letter of disclosure on her behalf and delivered it to Xie Youran’s parents.

Xie Youran had been right about one thing: what could a helpless salt merchant’s daughter, without backing or support, hope to accomplish against a capital official’s family — to say nothing of a family whose son-in-law was a prince of the realm?

But a person with nothing to lose has nothing to fear. Better to reveal her hand as a safeguard before things turned hostile — that way, at least both sides would know where the lines were.

In that letter, she had plainly informed the Xie family that the evidence of Xie Youran’s affair with a married man had already been compiled into a formal complaint.

She had seen enough of this kind of thing back in her hometown: there were men who drove their first wives to death and then married again. What Zhou Sui’an had gotten himself entangled with was a household of far greater consequence. These days, it was best for things to proceed smoothly and without incident. If any misfortune were to befall her, she had already arranged for trusted people — paid at her own expense — to present the complaint at the Court of Judicial Review. They would also spread the full account of Zhou Sui’an and the Xie family conspiring to destroy a first wife as handbills posted across the entire city.

When she walked out of the restaurant that day, Xia He and Dongxue followed close behind, both in a daze.

All they had known was that in these past days, the Young Mistress had been quietly investigating and making arrangements on her own — they only knew she had pawned a great deal of jewelry and visited many places, discreetly paying people.

They had never imagined that in the end, the Young Mistress was laying the groundwork for a divorce from Master Zhou.

In that moment, the two of them grew so anxious they were nearly in tears, urging the Young Mistress to be careful and think before she acted.

Chu Linlang slowly let out a long breath and gave her two maids a brief explanation of their current circumstances.

What was done was done — crying and wailing would do nothing. She had to think carefully about how to live her life from here on out.

But one point required no deliberation whatsoever: she would not be any man’s concubine.

At these words, Dongxue stopped trying to dissuade her, though Xia He still couldn’t accept it — things weren’t beyond the point of negotiation yet. Why was the Young Mistress so set on divorce without even trying to find another way?

Chu Linlang had no desire to return to the city just yet. She had come out this far — she might as well take a walk along the nearby Wangshan Lake and let the mood settle.

When they reached the lakeside, tired of Xia He’s persistent pleading, she used the cold as an excuse to send the two of them back to the carriage to fetch a handwarmer and a shawl, and to bring out a folding stool as well.

Left alone at the water’s edge, she spotted a grasshopper of late autumn that had fallen into the lake. The tiny creature was struggling with its delicate legs, paddling furiously against the surface of the water.

An autumn grasshopper lives only so long to begin with — it hardly seemed worth saving.

Yet watching it still struggling with unyielding determination, Chu Linlang felt a pang of sympathy, and found herself thinking it was not so unlike her own predicament.

Unable to bear it, she decided to fish it out — at the very least, it could hop about for a few more days on some dry grass.

But the lakeside mud was deep, and she looked down at the silver-thread embroidered shoes she had put on that morning. She decided to take them off before stepping in, figuring she could just remove the dirty socks afterward and put her shoes back on.

So she gathered up her skirt and slipped off her shoes, stepping one foot at a time toward the water’s edge…

She was nearly at the lake’s edge when, without warning, a rush of wind came from behind her — and then she felt an arm wrap tightly around her waist and yank her backward.

Caught entirely off guard, Chu Linlang cried out in fright. As she instinctively struggled, she slipped on the algae-covered edge of the lake — the attacker, wearing leather-soled boots, fared no better on the slick surface. Unable to hold his footing, he toppled forward, pulling Chu Linlang with him — and both of them tumbled straight into the lake.

The moment her body plunged into the water, it began flooding into her mouth and nose.

This was terrifyingly similar to a moment from her childhood — when she had been dragged into a lake and nearly drowned.

Ever since that time, when a wretched pest had shoved her head underwater, Chu Linlang had never dared to swim again — even though she had once known how.

Now, that old terror struck without mercy. She was in such a panic that she forgot even how to hold her breath, and could only thrash and grab desperately at the person who had pulled her in.

Fortunately, the man’s arm strength was remarkable — from behind, he braced her at the waist and lifted her up, then said: “The water here isn’t deep. Don’t panic…”

Hoisted upright, Chu Linlang found her feet touching the lake bottom. She turned to look at the one who had grabbed her.

At the sight, she sucked in a sharp breath of cold air — the culprit who had dragged her into the water was none other than someone she already knew.

She ground her teeth and demanded: “Situ Sheng… what are you doing? Silencing a witness?”

Situ Sheng frowned and looked at her, his tone less than pleasant: “Wasn’t it Madam who was seeking her own death? Why worry about being silenced?”

From a distance, Situ Sheng had spotted Chu Linlang leaving the restaurant and drifting like a wandering soul to the lakeside. She had sent her two maids away, stood staring blankly at the water, and then removed her shoes and began walking toward the lake.

To any observer, this looked unmistakably like a woman who had decided she no longer wished to live and was about to throw herself in. He had acted out of goodwill — only to find that she pulled him into the water with her, leaving both of them soaking wet.

Chu Linlang understood the misunderstanding, and felt somewhere between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry. She explained that she had not been intending to jump in — she was trying to rescue a grasshopper.

But Situ Sheng looked at her with an inscrutable expression and said nothing — his face wearing the unmistakable look of “don’t take me for a fool.”

Just then, Xia He and Dongxue returned to the lakeside with the handwarmer and folding stool, and caught the end of Situ Sheng saying that Madam Chu had meant to throw herself into the lake.

This sent things into chaos at once. Both maids dropped everything in their arms, wailing and running to the water’s edge.

Chu Linlang truly had no idea how to explain herself — it had only been about saving a grasshopper. How had it come to look like she no longer wished to live?

Meanwhile, from the few broken words cried out by Xia He and the others, Situ Sheng gathered a rough picture: it seemed Madam Chu was seeking a divorce from Master Zhou and had, in her despair, been considering jumping into the lake.

Upon hearing this, the look he directed at Chu Linlang turned noticeably cooler — as if he were regarding something that had entirely failed to live up to its potential.

“Madam Chu, do you truly believe you cannot live without a man?”

Chu Linlang was practically beside herself. She shook off the maids’ supporting hands and pointed directly at Situ Sheng’s wet chest without ceremony: “As long as Lord Situ stops sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, I will live to a hundred!”

She couldn’t imagine he was acting out of kindness. Could it be that this troublesome person was still nursing a grudge — and intended to pay her back for kicking him into the water all those years ago? Or perhaps he was seizing the opportunity to silence her and eliminate any future problems?

Situ Sheng had been poked in the chest by a single finger and took several steps back. He pressed his lips together and decided not to argue with a woman, then turned to walk toward the shore.

Having thrashed about in the water, his clothes were completely soaked through. His manservant hurriedly brought him a long robe to change into. Perhaps he was still nursing his annoyance — Situ Sheng showed no sign of discretion and, turning his back to the lake, calmly stripped off his wet garments and began to change.

By any standard of propriety, Chu Linlang should have averted her eyes and looked away.

She had, in fact, intended to do exactly that — but out of habit, she found herself idly stealing a curious glance at his well-built back.

Yet having looked, her eyes became fixed. She could no longer look away.

His back was strong and well-muscled, yet covered in a pattern of raised crimson scars — clearly recent wounds, the coloring still very fresh.

It was said that he had previously “compensated for the insult to scholarly dignity” by enduring punishment alongside a certain official, working through nearly half the instruments in the Court of Judicial Review’s collection. So the presence of wounds on his body was no surprise.

But Chu Linlang clearly remembered that on his back, near the shoulder blade, there had been a vivid crimson birthmark shaped like the character for “eight.”

Now, where that birthmark should have been, there was only a hideous scar from a branding iron — and no trace of the red mark remained.

She even began to doubt herself — could she have imagined it the last time she saw it?

But when Situ Sheng finished dressing, turned around, and gave her a long, searching look, Chu Linlang’s breath caught — and suddenly, as if a veil had been lifted, she understood.

Could it be that because she had recognized his birthmark last time, he had used the pretext of receiving punishment to take a branding iron and sear that birthmark off himself?

Having a mad mother was hardly a scandal worth hiding.

Yet Situ Sheng had gone to such calculated lengths to sever all ties with his former self — so ruthless he would not even spare his own body. Truly, it startled Chu Linlang.

The shock was so great that, under Situ Sheng’s fierce, wolflike gaze bearing down on her, she couldn’t help but flinch and step back a few paces in the water.

This promptly caused Xia He and the others to mistake her once more for wanting to end it all, and they set up a fresh round of weeping: “Young Mistress, please don’t!”

By the time she finally made it to shore, Situ Sheng had already built a fire on the bank, and told Chu Linlang: “I’ll have someone pull a rope across. Dry yourself by the fire — if there are no spare clothes in the carriage, stay in it to warm up. I’ll send someone to buy some.”

Chu Linlang said she had a trunk in the carriage, and that there was no need to dry herself by the fire either — at this point, she simply wanted to put as much distance between herself and Situ Sheng as possible.

Situ Sheng stepped directly into her path and said, with calm pleasantness: “I think Madam would do better to dry off a bit first before leaving.”

She could change her clothes, certainly — but her long hair was completely soaked through. Returning in this state would invite gossip.

The words were mild, yet the resolve behind them allowed no room for refusal.

Chu Linlang understood that he likely wished to say something to her while they had the chance, and quietly nodded.

When she had changed and settled by the fire, Situ Sheng was true to his word — he used his own cape to rig a hanging curtain for her privacy, and then sat on a stone on the other side of the cloth barrier to speak with her.

As for Xia He and Dongxue, Situ Sheng’s attendants had moved them well out of earshot, where they had no hope of drawing near.

With the sound of crackling firewood around them, Situ Sheng began: “Other than seeking death, what other plans do you have?”

Chu Linlang had no desire to explain herself to him again, and said simply: “This is a personal family matter. Why does Your Lordship have such a womanly curiosity about it?”

Situ Sheng turned to look at the cloth curtain. In the light of the fire, the silhouette of a woman was cast clearly against the fabric — at this moment she had raised one slender arm and was pulling at her wet hair to help it dry faster.

The profile was graceful, her pose alluring. Perhaps this was the hazy sight her husband beheld each night from before the bed curtains…

Situ Sheng turned his head away and no longer looked. He lowered his eyes and said in a low, steady voice: “Master Zhou is romantically reckless. This time he has entangled himself with a family not to be trifled with. I am afraid that however virtuous and patient you are, this will not end well for you…”

Before he finished speaking, the cloth curtain was yanked down. Chu Linlang strode up to him, her voice urgent: “How do you know what family he has gotten involved with?”

They had not mentioned the Xie family at all just now. How could he possibly know?

Situ Sheng looked up at Chu Linlang standing before him, her long hair loose and unbound.

Her face was naturally small. The way she usually pinned her hair up as a married woman had made her look slightly older. But now, framed by cascading dark hair, she appeared all the more delicate — wearing a robe that wasn’t belted, she looked slender and slight in frame. A pity only that those bright, expressive eyes lacked any softness — at this moment, the fire shooting from them was nearly enough to scorch.

He looked away again, and said with composure: “Master Zhou is not particularly careful in his conduct. He made arrangements to meet someone on several occasions, and this official happened to witness it.”

Chu Linlang gritted her teeth: “Other than you, who else saw?”

Situ Sheng was straightforward about it: “Also General Li, whom you met before.”

Chu Linlang stilled, then recalled — it was Li Chengyi, the general who had helped find carts for them on the day of their arrival.

Now she understood the meaning of that scrutinizing, lingering look he had given her — the pity he had shown for someone who was about to be cast aside.

It turned out they had already known, long before any of this — that her husband had climbed to a higher branch, and that she was likely to become a discarded wife. They had been standing by, watching for the spectacle.

At the thought, the frustration Chu Linlang had been suppressing for so long suddenly caught fire — it was impossible to press down any longer. She glared at Situ Sheng, kept her voice low, and asked: “Why didn’t you say something when I first arrived in the city? Do you men all cover for each other and stir up these hidden dirty dealings together?”

Situ Sheng picked up a piece of dry grass and rolled it slowly between his fingers, unhurried: “This official does seem to recall having warned you — that in a place as thriving and tempting as the capital, how many people can truly hold firm to their principles? You should have seen early on what your bedmate was made of. This day was always going to come — why hold others responsible?”

Chu Linlang’s mouth opened and closed, but she found nothing to say.

Zhou Sui’an had slept with a young lady of good standing — that was not Situ Sheng’s doing. And Situ Sheng had, in fact, warned her back at the mountain temple in Lianzhou: don’t let your husband rise too high…

At the thought, she found herself leaning against a nearby tree trunk, laughing at herself softly: “You’re right… who else is there to blame?”

Situ Sheng watched her, her composure giving way to a moment of dazed, helpless confusion. Her pale face was full of quiet, drifting sorrow.

Situ Sheng felt he had lingered here far too long. In truth, when he had first spotted her standing alone at the water’s edge, he had still been thinking — if she were to take her own life, dying was probably not the worst thing for her.

He had already removed the birthmark from his back. If she were gone, there would likely be no one left who might connect him to the orphan boy from the Jiang River dock — and that would be the simplest, cleanest resolution.

But when she had taken her shoes off and begun stepping toward the water, he had still charged forward without thinking…

Thinking about it now, it was probably because her circumstances at this moment looked too much like those of his mother — a woman who had lived only for feeling, been willing to die for love, and yet in the end was utterly alone with no one to ask after her, dying in madness, having entirely forgotten she had a young son who needed her…

With that thought, he spoke again, doing his final duty: “If you truly can’t see a way forward and wish to seek death, no one can stop you. But remember — you have a daughter…”

Chu Linlang had by now regathered herself. She had never been one to linger long in grief.

And it seemed Situ Sheng did not know that Yuan’er was not her biological child. Seeing that he appeared to hold something resembling sympathy for her situation, her mind was working at speed — she had already formulated a plan for her next move.

With that, she sank to her knees before him, eyes glistening with tears: “Your Lordship, as the current Vice President of the Court of Judicial Review, you are a true official of the people’s welfare and a servant of justice. If any misfortune were to befall me hereafter, I trust that you, sir, would stand up for a poor woman like me!”

Situ Sheng had absolutely not seen this coming — Chu Linlang could shift expressions faster than the wind changed. He looked down at her, at the pale nape of her neck just visible above her collar, and asked in a measured tone: “Are you… asking me to help you catch your husband in the act?”

Chu Linlang dabbed at her tears and quickly replied: “Nothing so dramatic and degrading — no need for that kind of spectacle. However, I am in the midst of negotiating the terms of a divorce, and I fear that if talks break down, the other party might refuse to honor their word and attempt to take advantage of a helpless, unprotected woman like myself. You are the only upright, impartial official I know here in the capital. I beg Your Lordship to stand up for me. If you refuse to agree, I will kneel here until you do!”

Situ Sheng listened, and his eyes narrowed slightly: “What terms are you negotiating, and why do you fear the talks breaking down?”

After hearing Chu Linlang explain everything in full, Situ Sheng was quiet for a considerable time, then said: “Your asking price is far too high. I doubt either the Zhou family or the Xie family will agree to it…”

Chu Linlang had already thought this through, and said in a low voice: “In business, you never show your bottom line first. I deliberately quoted high — it leaves room to haggle and bargain down the road…”

Situ Sheng continued to sit in silence, then ground his back teeth and said coldly: “Someone capable of striking first, thinking to demand money and shops and use me as backing for a divorce — you don’t sound like a woman destroyed by her husband’s betrayal and driven in her grief to throw herself into a lake…”

—