Ye Liuchun × Bai Shating Extra: Spring River Moon

【Part Three: Swaying, the Jade-Green Clouds Lean Low】

When Bai Shating was thrown into prison, his mood was strangely calm.

The day before, when Ye Liuchun had come to see him, he’d already had a vague sense of foreboding — he simply hadn’t expected the crown prince to move so quickly. Before he’d even had time to figure out what he should do, the arresting guards had already arrived at his gate.

The moment he entered the Ministry of Justice, someone came to torture a confession out of him.

“You wrote — ‘by day to the capital… a lone cold star all the way’ — what did you mean by this? Wasn’t it a veiled slander against the crown prince’s unworthiness, wishing him to fall like a shooting star?”

The whip cracked across his back. It hurt, a little.

Bai Shating found himself wanting to laugh. Seeing his smile, the officials only grew angrier, and were about to bring out some new instrument of torture when a man who looked like a supervisor stepped in to stop them.

That supervisor had him taken back to his cell and even secretly brought him medicine for his wounds.

Bai Shating clasped his hands together in thanks, his voice broken and halting. “Thank you, thank you, brother… may I ask your name? Once I’m out of here, I will surely repay this kindness.”

The man answered, eyes lowered, “There’s no need for thanks, sir. This humble one’s surname is He — I received Young Master Zhou’s kindness once, and this is simply repaying a little of it… But there’s only so much I can do. You’d best think of a way to save yourself, and soon.”

“Mm, ah,” Bai Shating murmured, eyes closed, his answer slurred. “Brother He — if it’s within your means, could you carry a message to Chun Niangzi at the Chunfenghua Establishment for me?”

“Tell her… tell her to harden her heart, and not, under any circumstances, come see me. I’m — I’m a man of some standing in the capital, after all. They wouldn’t dare kill me.”

Strangely, Bai Shating had always thought of himself as someone who clung fiercely to life, terrified of death above all else — and yet now, lying here battered and bleeding, what frightened him most was the thought that Ye Liuchun might do something irreversible.

Zhou Tan was still in Ruozhou, not yet returned to court. Ai Disheng, though powerful among the common folk, couldn’t save him from this. Su Chaoci and Song Shixuan had spent years lying low, biding their time, and then there was his own hopeless elder brother…

Why had he been thrown in prison in the first place? Simply because Song Shiyan had learned that Gao Yunyue was hiding at the Chunfenghua Establishment, and couldn’t move against Ye Liuchun directly — so he’d taken Bai Shating instead, to force her to give the girl up.

Knowing Little Ye’s character, even if it cost her own life, she likely wouldn’t betray Gao Yunyue.

And now, with him added to the equation, she was truly caught between impossible choices.

But what did it matter, Bai Shating thought, forcing himself to stay calm. If she gave up Gao Yunyue, the girl would certainly die. And as for him… the Chunming Poetry Case could go either way — usually such charges resulted in demotion and exile, rarely execution. It shouldn’t cost him his life… surely.

Ye Liuchun was a clever woman. She would know how to choose. And besides — as for the past between them, he knew perfectly well she still hated him for it.

Back when he’d stormed off in anger, he’d gone drinking with friends, thoroughly drunk, pouring out his frustrations to them: “Tell me — tell me, what on earth goes through a woman’s mind? I plan and worry over every little thing, and she gets angry at me for no reason at all…”

His friends had jeered good-naturedly. “Surely Shisan said something wrong without realizing it — why else would a beauty get angry over nothing?”

“Shisan, you’ve got no sense at all — hurry up and think back on exactly what you said to her!”

Bai Shating, hugging his wine jug, had thought back in a daze. “I said — I said that I planned to sit for the examinations this year, that I was determined to earn myself an official title. Because without one, how could I ever marry the well-born lady my father wants for me… if I don’t work hard at this, my father won’t even allow me to marry first and then take in…”

He’d nearly bitten his own tongue, swallowing the words “of low status,” and instead finished, “won’t allow me to take a commoner girl as a concubine.”

The moment he’d said this, the friend with a girl in his lap had burst out laughing, nearly doubled over with it. “Shisan, oh Shisan, no one coaxes a woman the way you just described.”

“Well, you can’t really blame him — for a commoner girl to catch the eye of Young Master Bai the Thirteenth is already more than she could hope for. Surely she shouldn’t dream any bigger—”

“None of you know the first thing about coaxing a woman. Fangniang, tell them — if the man you loved said something like that to you, would you be happy or upset?”

Fangniang was a girl from one of the pleasure boats on the Qinhuai River. Hearing this, she covered her mouth and laughed. “Master Zhao’s right. Us girls, of course, don’t dream about men who already have wives and children — but when we meet young, handsome gentlemen like yourselves, even if our own standing is far too low, we still can’t help but dream a little… Shisan’s being far too blunt. He’s bound to break someone’s heart.”

The atmosphere hazy with drink, Bai Shating suddenly sobered for an instant, muttering to himself in disbelief. “You mean… she… could it be she wants to marry me as her wife?”

“There, the fool finally figures it out!”

“Speaking of which, Shisan, you really ought to keep a closer eye on this sweetheart of yours. Your family is Jinling’s foremost noble house, after all, and you’re one of the few sons of your generation — for girls of that station, taking a concubine would already be an unimaginable honor, let alone—”

“It’s only natural for the young to fall for a pretty face, but Shisan, you’re being too naive. Better be careful — what if she’s after something, and you’re too foolish to even notice?”

“…”

Bai Shating sat frozen at the table, utterly stunned.

The words piled up around him like a mountain, chaotic and overwhelming. He heard every single one, and yet, in that moment, couldn’t make sense of any of it.

She… had wanted to marry him as his wife, and that was why she’d suddenly grown angry after hearing what he’d said?

But — but…

A soft hand landed on his shoulder. Bai Shating turned to look and found Fangniang gazing at him, fan swaying idly.

Fangniang’s usually smiling face carried a complicated expression. “Shisan…”

He glanced around — everyone else was drinking, playing finger-guessing games, caught up in loud conversation, no one paying attention to their quiet exchange.

Fangniang poured him a cup of wine, then suddenly let her smile fade. He’d never seen her look so hollow, so lost.

“To you men — what exactly are women, in the end?”

He blinked, caught off guard, and before he could answer, Fangniang continued, “You believe you’re deeply, sincerely devoted to her, don’t you? You believe you’ve done everything you possibly could, that you owe her nothing, and that your careful planning has been thrown back in your face — you feel wronged, don’t you?”

“But, Shisan… even when you men believe yourselves hopelessly in love, you’re always fixated on these worldly things — status, position, wealth, fame, achievement. You take it for granted, as a matter of course, that you need a well-born lady to advance your career — you’ve never once considered anything else… Of course, women have their own considerations too, their own standards to weigh a man by. But from what you’ve told me, it sounds like this girl of yours may never have thought about any of that at all.”

Bai Shating turned the wine cup absently in his hands, murmuring to himself, lost in thought. “That’s true… all those times I gave her gold and jade, jewels and treasures, she never seemed to care about any of it…”

“She loves you, wants to marry you, and never once considered her own status — not because she’s foolish, but because she truly, deeply fell for you, and chose to look past it entirely. Even knowing her status makes her unworthy of you in the eyes of the world — and you yourself think so too — when love runs deep enough, who doesn’t dream of spending a whole lifetime devoted to just one person? I… I’ve never had the heart to hear people mock those who love too foolishly, too completely.”

Bai Shating traced the pattern on his wine cup, feeling a heavy, dull ache settle in his chest — not sharp, but bitter and aching all the same. He’d never experienced a feeling quite like this before.

Fangniang stood and patted his shoulder. “Shisan, you need to see the woman you love as a person — not as your possession, not as something that must always bend to your will, always obey your plans. And it’s not just her — think of the well-born lady you’ll eventually marry too. What has she done wrong? Why should she have to spend her whole life devoted to a husband who, even before the wedding, never once thought of her as a person in her own right?”

By the end, there was a touch of her own sorrow in her words. Bai Shating raised his cup to her, his voice trembling. “You’re — you’re right, I… I used to…”

Fangniang drank from his cup and let her smile return.

“Don’t blame yourself too harshly, Shisan. You’re the son of a noble house — even with your playful nature, you were still raised within those rigid rules and expectations. It’s only natural for a man with ambitions to want these things. I only worry that the deep confines of that household will wear away at the genuine sincerity you feel for the one you love, until it’s too late, and you’re left with nothing but regret.”

Those words seemed to echo in his ears even now.

Gripping the iron bars, Bai Shating thought with bitter irony that Fangniang had been exactly right, all those years ago — and truthfully, it was from that very moment that his regret had first begun.

But before he could dwell on it further, he heard soft footsteps beyond the bars — a pair of embroidered cloth shoes crossing the withered grass on the ground, stopping just before him.

Bai Shating lifted his head and saw Ye Liuchun’s eyes, red as though she’d been crying.

He reached out at once, wanting to touch her face, but she stood too far away, and his fingers stopped short, hovering an inch from her, before slowly falling back.

Thinking it over carefully, ever since they’d first met, there had always been far more sorrow between them than joy.

Aside from that brief, happy stretch of time on the Qinhuai River when love had first bloomed between them, everything he’d done since had only brought her grief.

He’d hidden her away in his private residence, without name or title, too afraid to tell his father.

He’d told her, without so much as a flicker of hesitation, that he would marry a well-born lady and make her a concubine.

When he’d returned to the capital, he’d never quite been able to let go of that last shred of pride — at first avoiding her out of fear, and later, when he’d finally worked up the courage to see her, saying nothing but wounding, hurtful things.

He’d resented the effortless calm she’d shown at their reunion, never daring to ask why she’d left so decisively back then, instead sparring with her, bristling with barbs, trying over and over to prove, through inflicted pain, that some genuine feeling had once existed between them — squandering, in the process, every chance and moment they might have used to speak honestly to each other instead.

Ye Liuchun looked at him, eyes reddening, watching his hand reach out and then withdraw. Her lips trembled twice, but no words came.

Bai Shating gazed back at her, thinking that he had simply been too arrogant, always believing youth stretched on forever, that there would always be more joy to come, always another chance, always a better moment to untangle the knots between them, always some day when… he could finally prove his heart to her.

But all he had was a tarnished reputation and the mask of a reckless wastrel, wrapped in layers of misunderstanding — how could he ever expect anyone to believe the sincerity behind his words, however earnestly he spoke them?

Bai Shating closed his eyes, feeling that he had never regretted anything so deeply in his life.

He gripped the cold iron bars and called out to her: “Little Ye…”

But Ye Liuchun knew nothing of the bitterness and regret churning inside him — she saw only that withdrawn hand.

And so, rather than patiently waiting to hear him out as she usually would, she cut him off directly. “Do you know—”

Bai Shating, having endured torture, no longer carried his usual carefree, roguish air.

This hollow, lost, trembling expression — she had never once seen it on his face before.

He was supposed to always be smiling, unrestrained, brimming with confidence.

Born into nobility, brilliantly talented, a man of letters with the pride and elegance of an immortal.

He wasn’t supposed to look like this.

She swallowed back every ache in her chest and continued, “—The crown prince wants your life.”

Before he could react, she rushed on, as though afraid she might lose her nerve if she stopped. “I secretly sought out Lady Zhou’s younger brother, and Lord Su, and Master Ai. I asked them to get Miss Gao and Master Ren safely out of the capital. Master Ai has arranged to handle the aftermath, fake the bodies — it should be enough to fool the crown prince, at least for now, and keep them safe. As for you…”

Ye Liuchun trembled badly, remembering that withdrawn hand, and had to grip the bars to steady herself, finally managing to force a smile back onto her face. “He wants you dead, wants to make an example of this whole group to establish his authority. I… I’m afraid I don’t have the influence to save you.”

Strangely, Bai Shating found he wasn’t as afraid as he’d expected, hearing that his life was nearly at its end.

The first feeling that rose in him was relief.

Thank goodness. Thank goodness.

Thank goodness he hadn’t said those words before — hadn’t said them just now.

Because if he died now, having said them — what would become of her?

Bai Shating forced himself to calm down, lowering his eyes, falling silent for a moment.

When he lifted his head again, he’d already slipped back into his usual careless, roguish demeanor. “Oh, so that’s how it is — I’m about to die, then?”

Tears welled in Ye Liuchun’s eyes, but not one fell. She forced a smile, as though afraid of showing weakness. “Yes.”

“Then, before I die, let’s speak honestly with each other.” Bai Shating gazed at her through the bars, sliding slowly down the cold wall as though all his strength had left him. “There are things I’ve wanted to say to you for a very long time, and never found the right moment…”

“Shisan, I have a question I want to ask you,” Ye Liuchun said, kneeling before him as well. She could no longer manage a smile at all, her beautiful eyes fixed stubbornly on him, refusing to look away. “…When I left Jinling, back then — did you ever regret it?”

Since leaving Jinling, she had never once shown this kind of desperate, wretched expression in front of anyone.

This question had circled in her heart for so long, so very long, that it had festered into an old, poisoned thorn.

Seeing her like this, Bai Shating felt a pain so sharp he could barely speak.

He steadied himself, and instead of answering her question, asked quietly in return: “Back then… I schemed and planned for you for so long. Were you ever moved by it, even once?”

“I don’t want to trade riddles with you anymore,” Ye Liuchun cut in, her voice trembling. “I always told myself — the moment you called me ‘Little Leaf’ again, I would ask you this question. But you never did, not once, until today… Even if it’s only out of pity for me, set aside these false masks, and tell me the truth, just this once.”

“No.”

Bai Shating answered instantly, without a trace of hesitation.

If he answered too slowly, the crack would show. She was too clever, understood him better than he understood himself — one careless slip, and she’d see straight through to what lay in his heart, and everything would be lost.

“I never once regretted it.”

“You know perfectly well who you are, what your status is — there was never any possibility of you marrying me. Everything I schemed for you was already the greatest effort I could possibly make on your behalf. And you? You never once spared a thought for me, just dreamed your naive, unrealistic dreams — did you ever think about what I needed? Why should I be the one to regret anything?”

Ye Liuchun had never heard anything crueler than this, could hardly believe these words had actually come from Bai Shating’s mouth.

She stared at him, stunned, tears falling uncontrollably.

It seemed everything was even worse than she’d imagined.

Bai Shating didn’t dare look at her, head bowed low, forcing himself, numbly, to finish what he’d started. “When you abandoned me and left Jinling — did you really think I’d ever come to regret it one day? You were never moved by anything I did — why should I regret it? I’ve met plenty of women since then. Whatever we had, back in our youth, wasn’t worth remembering at all…”

“So when you came looking for me,” Ye Liuchun said, gripping the cold bars so tightly the world seemed to spin around her, “it wasn’t because… you regretted it. It was because you wanted…”

“That’s right,” Bai Shating admitted readily. “I wanted revenge on you. I wanted to see whether you still couldn’t get over me, whether you were still hopelessly caught up in it. There have been plenty of women in this world who’ve loved me, Liuchun — but you’re the only one who ever wronged me. Shouldn’t you feel honored?”

Ye Liuchun reached through the iron bars, trying to grasp his hand, but he flinched instinctively and pulled away from her touch.

“I only wanted to hear one honest word from you!”

“That is the honest word!”

A dead silence fell between them.

After a long while, Ye Liuchun laughed softly.

“You should have said all this the first time you came to find me. If you had, wouldn’t you have gotten exactly what you wanted — watching me lose all composure, my heart utterly shattered, throwing you out for good?”

“You must have felt so pleased with yourself. I know my station is low, I never even dared to ask for anything from you — why bother troubling yourself to write a whole verse just to insult me? All this time, I’ve been lying to myself, telling myself it was my own stubborn pride, that I’d misjudged you unfairly. But it turns out… you’re even more vicious than I ever imagined.”

Her eyes had gone bloodshot with hatred, but no more tears fell. She reached into her robe and drew out the lovers’ knot she’d carried with her for so long.

Worn smooth with age from handling, but carefully preserved, unbroken, undamaged.

She gripped the knot tightly and spoke, word by word. “I’ll ask you one more time. Was everything you just said what you truly meant, in your heart? No deception at all? If you say yes, then even if it’s a lie, I will believe it as truth.”

Bai Shating gritted his teeth. “Yes.”

So be it, then. Let her hate him, let her hear him die hating him — that was, without question, for the best. All these days, he’d heard her, countless times, murmuring in her sleep, saying that when she grew old and withered, she would never let the man she loved see her ravaged, faded reflection in the mirror.

From the moment he’d first known her, she had always been this way — pure, fervent, perhaps not even aware herself of the moth-to-flame self-destructiveness woven into her nature.

Love, if it was to exist at all, had to be the deepest kind, feeling had to be the most intense — never halfhearted, never shared. If it couldn’t be that, she would rather let go of it entirely, would rather end things completely, once and for all.

If he didn’t accept her words as truth now, could she possibly go on living after his death?

Bai Shating bowed his head, feeling a sharp, searing pain in his chest — worse, by far, than any beating or whipping he’d endured.

Before he could gather himself, Ye Liuchun had already risen to her feet.

She let the lovers’ knot fall carelessly from her hand, landing before him.

“…Take it back.”

“Don’t worry. After you die, I promise you, I won’t grieve — not a single tear will fall. In my next life… I’ll burn incense and pray never to cross paths with you again.”

Only once the sound of her footsteps had completely faded from the prison did Bai Shating finally stir from the deathlike stillness that had gripped him, slowly reaching out to pick up the knot she’d returned to him.

He pressed it against his chest, wanting to weep, but no sound would come.

Half a month earlier, drunk with Bo Ying, he had finally made up his mind to start over with her. He’d taken the examinations, secured a residence, and told all his servants, joyfully, that once he officially received his post, he would soon bring home a mistress of the house.

He should have had the purest kind of love.

Just like in all the tales of devoted lovers and heartbroken beauties written throughout the ages, he should have shared with her a harmonious, deeply matched partnership, living out sweet, peaceful days, just as they had once, together, in that outer residence in Jinling.

But because of his hesitation, his indecision, and that pride he could never quite set aside, he had let the moment slip away, and lost everything.

Bai Shating remembered the day he’d returned to that outer residence in Jinling — the servants sweeping in silence, heads bowed, not a word spoken. Covered in wounds, he’d stumbled to the back courtyard, the plum-blossom fragrance already too faint to catch, wind blowing through the unlatched lattice window.

Cold, still, and utterly empty.

A young girl’s hand had once brushed against a young man’s cheek; then they’d turned and grown up, years apart — the story of talented scholars and beautiful women was, in the end, always far too common, ending either in painful parting or in death.

But he had never imagined that he himself would not die.

Only three or four days later, that man surnamed He from the Ministry of Justice who’d looked after him came personally to release him from his cell.

Bai Shating had assumed the man had come to see him off on his final journey, but instead, He San led him out through the winding corridors of the ministry’s inner prison and handed him over to two sword-bearing guards waiting in the back hall.

Bai Shating, confused, asked, “Brother He…”

He San cleared his throat and spoke formally. “By the crown prince’s verbal decree — though the Chunming Poetry Case involves disrespect toward the court by all those implicated, His Highness has no wish to spill scholars’ blood, and so extends leniency. All are to be exiled to Lingnan, forbidden from ever returning to court.”

Having finished, he looked at Bai Shating with a complicated expression. “Lord Bai, you should offer your thanks for this mercy.”

With no one else around, Bai Shating asked in disbelief, “He… isn’t going to kill me?”

He San shook his head and gave a meaningful glance, at which the two guards lowered their eyes and withdrew.

Once they’d left the hall, He San finally drew a flower-patterned note from his robes and handed it to him. “As you asked, I went to find Chun Niangzi. She had a letter for you, and asked me to give it to you once you were released.”

A powerful sense of unease suddenly gripped Bai Shating.

He unfolded the note hastily, and the moment his eyes fell on it, a wave of metallic dread rose in his throat, as though someone had reached out from empty air and seized him by the neck.

“Since you have long known misfortune, do not blame this one for parting ways… Next year, when the flowers bloom again, will be the night of this one’s full moon.”

He San looked at him, a note of pity in his voice. “Chun Niangzi is a woman of the pleasure quarters. Entering the crown prince’s household this way, though only as a consort, is a matter of course — with the emperor gravely ill and His Highness overseeing state affairs, once he ascends the throne, she’ll rise to become imperial nobility in a single leap… It’s only natural, sir. There’s no need to grieve too much over it.”

“A… consort?”

Knowing her nature, how could she possibly submit willingly to becoming anyone’s concubine?

Even for royalty, even for the most exalted bloodline in the realm!

Bai Shating needed only a moment to piece together the truth of it. His hands and feet went ice-cold, and he repeated those two words to himself again and again, laughing in a strange, broken way.

His laughter grew louder and louder, more and more despairing. “Ha ha ha ha… Bai Shisan, oh Bai Shisan — so it turns out you are, after all… the most heartless creature in this entire world!”

He San, puzzled, watched as Bai Shating’s laughter suddenly gave way to a mouthful of blood, spraying forward.

“Master Shisan!”

The blood spattered across the screen in the back hall of the Ministry of Justice — the one that had stood empty ever since Zhou Tan’s departure — blooming outward like plum blossoms bursting open in the snow, vivid and gruesome, and terribly, terribly beautiful.

By the time Ye Liuchun saw Bai Shating again, the dynasty had already changed hands.

Qu You had fled the palace and insisted on bringing her along, but in truth, Ye Liuchun’s heart had gone utterly cold by then — it no longer mattered where she ended up.

Song Shiyan, having suppressed his true nature for so many years, showed none of it in public. It was only once she’d truly entered his household that she discovered he was far more terrifying than she’d ever imagined.

A boundless, seeping malice.

Fortunately, she had never been the type to cling to chastity or virtue as some rigid point of honor, nor did she carry any scholar’s notion of “integrity” or “moral fortitude.” If it made things easier for her, she had no qualms about bowing her head, swallowing her pride, and playing along to please Song Shiyan.

The crown prince forced her to play the lute for him in his bedchamber, the room thick with heavy incense.

He held her chin, examining her the way one might appraise an object.

“Liuchun, do you know why I insisted on bringing you into my household?”

Half asleep, half awake, she heard Song Shiyan ask this.

“I’ve known you a long time now. They say courtesans have no true feelings — but you, Liuchun, you were always too soft-hearted… The undisputed reigning beauty of the capital, and yet, leaning by the window listening to a song, you could show that particular expression.”

She thought back for a long moment before she finally remembered — Song Shiyan must be referring to that time at Fan Tower, when she’d been playing at a banquet and heard, for the first time, the tune Bai Shating had written.

Song Shiyan seemed to take particular pleasure in observing the subtle expressions that crossed a woman’s face. Ye Liuchun recalled that he’d once told her something similar about Qu You — that whatever had first drawn him to her had begun the very day they’d met.

That day, at Yan Wuping and Gu Xianghui’s request, she had invited the crown prince to Fan Tower to hear her play. When the tower’s platform collapsed, the fresh blood of a young woman soaking the stage, he had shown no reaction at all — but his eye had caught Qu You, standing across the way on another floor.

A woman of deep feeling, caught unaware in the chaos, had let a single tear of pity fall.

Something in him had stirred at the sight, struck with wonder.

Just as, that day, distracted, she had missed two notes on her lute, completely unaware that Song Shiyan sat across from her, studying her without restraint, seeing clearly the flash of grief that had crossed her face.

“They say my grandfather and the Noble Consort Zhao of his time loved each other deeply — but I never witnessed such a thing myself. My father was a dissolute man who never knew how to truly love anyone, and I don’t know how either. So I… have always loved the drama of lovers torn apart.”

He wrapped an arm around her, smiling. “As it turns out, your Shisan was nothing special, and neither are you. All these feelings, in the end, are useless. Liuchun, let them go. Once I ascend the throne, I’ll give you a proper title.”

Ye Liuchun nodded obediently and pulled him closer of her own accord.

Inside, she felt a wave of revulsion, mixed with a strange, detached pity.

Song Shiyan had likely never once, in his entire life, been truly, deeply loved by anyone — how could he possibly understand that these tangled, complicated feelings were nowhere near as simple as they appeared on the surface?

Even the subtlest flicker of expression could never fully capture the depths of what people carried inside them, in this tangled human world.

Before Qu You managed to escape the palace and reach Lin’an, Ye Liuchun had been unable to sit still, repeatedly urging Zhou Yang to send her back in Qu You’s place.

But that was nothing more than a child’s foolish notion — Song Shiyan’s interest in Qu You had always run far deeper than his interest in her, and she knew it perfectly well. It was only that Zhou Tan had once saved her life, and Qu You was her dearest friend — feeling utterly powerless to help either of them was worse, somehow, than dying herself.

Fortunately, once she reached Lin’an, she was reunited with Gao Yunyue, who had survived after all.

Ever since her family’s ruin, Gao Yunyue had drifted through life in a daze. Ye Liuchun, heartbroken for her, cared for her every single day, treating the scars on her face, teaching her how to manage accounts and run a business together, helping her slowly rediscover some hope for life.

After Song Shixuan ascended the throne, she returned to the capital together with Gao Yunyue, staying for a time under Ai Disheng’s protection.

Bai Shating, recalled to court, rushed straight to the pavilion where she was staying without even pausing to rest.

She didn’t want to go down to see him, and sent Gao Yunyue to turn him away, but he refused to leave, until finally, unable to bear it any longer, she went down to meet him herself.

“I thought—”

Ye Liuchun looked at him with perfect calm, and found, to her own surprise, that the sudden absence of all that once-burning emotion wasn’t such a difficult thing to accept after all.

“I thought there was nothing left to say between us.”

“How could that be?”

Bai Shating had grown considerably thinner, and his once-radiant face now carried more pallor and exhaustion than before. Yet he still held that “A Thousand Years of Glorious Dissipation” fan in his hand, his eyes bright and intent, as though none of the old grievances between them had ever happened at all.

Ye Liuchun didn’t want to engage with him, and asked instead, with perfect composure, “So why have you come today—”

“I’ve come to ask for your hand in marriage.” Bai Shating answered just as calmly, tapping the fan’s handle twice against his arm. Behind him, as though by some conjurer’s trick, a procession of servants appeared, carrying trunks and chests. “I’ve already prepared the betrothal gifts and the marriage documents. If you’re willing, I’ll go tomorrow to petition His Majesty for permission.”

“Lord Bai,” Ye Liuchun said, pressing her fingers to her brow, nearly laughing at him despite herself. “Is this pity? I don’t believe there’s anything pitiable about me. Every choice I made was my own, including—”

She paused, not finishing the thought. “It was my own decision to save Miss Gao. It was me the crown prince wanted, all along. As for the Chunming Poetry Case — you were only implicated because of me. I got you released simply because I didn’t want to owe you anything. So there’s no need for you to feel you’ve wronged me in any way.”

Bai Shating listened to this without his expression changing at all, without so much as a twitch of his eyebrows.

“I know,” he said gently. “I’ve come to ask for your hand simply because I love you.”

Ye Liuchun blinked, startled, then shot back quickly, “Lord Bai, your love… is there a woman up and down the Bian River who hasn’t heard of it? I doubt even you can tell the difference between—”

“I can tell the difference!”

“We’ve come this far. There’s no going back for us now.”

“If there’s no going back, then don’t go back. Look up…”

Ye Liuchun finally let her gaze meet his again.

Bai Shating swung his folding fan and smiled. “…Haven’t you already seen me?”

From then on, he came every single day.

On clear days, he stood beneath the sun; in wind and rain, he held up a faded oil-paper umbrella. Ye Liuchun, leaning by the window, once drifted into an unintended sleep and dreamed of those final days in his outer residence — how she’d once waited, craning her neck toward the window, only to find nothing but emptiness beyond the lattice, always.

Then she opened her eyes and saw the figure who had been waiting below the pavilion all along.

It felt like an entire lifetime had passed.

At first, whenever Qu You came to visit her, she’d offer sharp, cutting remarks about Bai Shating — but eventually, even she found she had nothing left to say.

In the late spring of the first year of the Chongjing era, Ye Liuchun finally relented and agreed to Bai Shating’s proposal.

The wedding was set for the sixth month. Song Shixuan personally bestowed upon her the characters “Spring Wind” as a gift, and once word spread through the streets, a fresh round of gossip followed.

Qu You pinned a golden hairpin into her hair and said with a smile, “I wish you and Master Shisan a long, happy life together, growing old side by side.”

Ye Liuchun gave a bitter smile at her reflection in the bronze mirror, and let slip, without meaning to, a truth she hadn’t intended to say. “I never used to imagine growing old together with him, either.”

Actually, that was still a lie. What she’d meant to say was—

I had never once thought I’d grow old together with him.

Though the wayward son had returned, his heart hadn’t found its peace after all — but hers had already died. Even having finally gotten the very thing she’d once wanted most, what meaning did it hold now?

On their wedding night, Bai Shating had had a bit too much to drink.

Unsteady on his feet, he stumbled into the bridal chamber and found Ye Liuchun already stripped of her ceremonial hairpins and ornaments, sitting composed on the edge of the couch, her round fan discarded somewhere, forgotten.

Seeing him enter, she stayed exactly where she was, not moving, not even lifting her eyes.

Unable to keep his footing, he sank to his knees at her feet. “Liuchun…”

Ye Liuchun propped her chin on her hand and turned to look at him. “Mm?”

Bai Shating gazed at her face — the object of his endless regret, his endless longing — and reached out to draw her close, meaning to kiss her as he had countless times before.

But Ye Liuchun turned her head slightly aside, avoiding his touch.

“Lord Bai, I did agree to your proposal. But we… don’t seem quite familiar enough with each other yet, do we?”

She smiled, innocent and cruel all at once, echoing his own words back at him. “Wasn’t it you who said — you wanted me to marry you, forget everything that came before, and start fresh? Starting fresh — what should a man do, on his wedding night, with the wife he’s just married?”

Bai Shating opened his mouth, the smell of wine hanging between them. It took him a long moment to steady himself before he answered, his voice hoarse. “My lady… forgive my rudeness. May I… move your fan aside?”

Ye Liuchun made a small gesture, moving aside a fan that didn’t actually exist in her empty hand. “Go ahead.”

He braced himself against the corner of the table and got to his feet, asking earnestly, “My name is… Bai Shating. ‘The white sand upon the shore, unseen’ — that’s where my name comes from. I’m thirteenth in my family’s generation, so everyone calls me… Young Master Thirteen.”

Ye Liuchun looked at him, her beautiful eyes brimming with an unreadable smile. “Oh, Young Master Thirteen… I hear your reputation isn’t the best. All up and down the pleasure quarters of the capital, there’s not a girl who doesn’t know your name. Oh dear, whatever shall I do? This one might find you… distasteful too.”

Bai Shating stumbled back a step, catching himself against the window frame to stay upright. He opened the window, let the cold air clear his head for a moment, and then said, “If my lady is unwilling, then I… I’ll sleep on the floor beside your bed. Would that be all right?”

He found bedding in the cabinet — apparently prepared well in advance — and by the time Ye Liuchun had closed her eyes on the bed, she found herself somewhat surprised by all of it.

Then, through the layers of curtains, she heard his voice.

“My lady… before you sleep, could you… look at me, just once?”

As though afraid of disturbing her own resolve, Ye Liuchun turned over and settled in to sleep, determined not to speak to him again.

It felt, in a way, like being back at the very beginning, when he’d first come looking for her after returning to the capital — except this time, the roles had reversed.

It wasn’t until a full month later that Bai Shating finally managed to hold her hand. Watching him take such careful, tentative joy in it, like a boy experiencing first love, Ye Liuchun felt a pang of bitter irony, though she couldn’t quite bring herself to laugh.

They understood each other so completely, had come this far together — why go on performing this charade of hesitance and restraint?

When she’d first agreed to marry him, it had been, in part, out of curiosity — wondering how long it would take before he grew tired of this game of careful evasion.

She hadn’t expected him to take to it so wholeheartedly, showing no sign of fatigue at all.

But she had truly grown weary of these endless rounds of testing and probing, and couldn’t quite bring herself to trust that his rediscovered devotion was genuine — it seemed easier, almost, to let it all go entirely.

She told him she wanted to travel to the northwestern frontier to see it for herself — partly, too, out of a wish to put some distance between them, before familiarity bred contempt once more.

As it happened, the court was embroiled in turmoil at the time, and she never imagined that the very next day after she’d said this, Bai Shating would submit his resignation and immediately begin packing for the journey.

The two of them traveled together, first to Ruozhou, watching the sun rise and set from atop the city walls.

They returned to Lin’an as well. The old Zuihong Tower had long since fallen to ruin, replaced by a new wine house built on the same site, not a single trace of the old place remaining.

Before her mother’s old grave, she knelt in silence for a long while.

Bai Shating gradually came to realize that Ye Liuchun wasn’t one for words at all — left to her own devices, she could go a full day and night without speaking, and even simply watching the clouds drift across the sky, she never seemed to tire of it.

Given the chance to draw closer to her, he still didn’t dare presume too much. After much thought, he finally spoke, gently. “Would you be willing… to go back to Jinling with me? My father, and my grandfather… they’d like to meet you.”

To his surprise, Ye Liuchun considered it for a moment, and agreed.

Before entering the ancestral Bai family estate, Ye Liuchun looked up at the towering placard above the gate, wondering how the Bai family would see her — how they would look at this courtesan Bai Shating had taken as his wife.

But nothing of the sort happened. No one said a word against her.

He led her smoothly through the ceremony at the ancestral hall, and had her name formally added to the family register.

Standing in the hall, surrounded by the glow of countless candles, she steadied herself against the threshold as she stepped inside, feeling as though she were in a dream.

Bai Shating had been called away by his father for a talking-to, leaving her kneeling in the ancestral hall, lost in thought, when she suddenly heard a faint cough.

She turned and found it was the Bai family’s elder patriarch.

This was Bai Shating’s grandfather — and Zhou Tan’s maternal grandfather as well. She lowered her eyes and bowed, saying nothing more.

The old man chuckled and waved a hand, gesturing for her to rise.

“Thirteenth grandson’s wife, you… needn’t be so nervous. I’ve known your name for many, many years now.”

Ye Liuchun, only belatedly registering his words, was startled. “What?”

The old patriarch stroked his beard, recalling quietly. “How old was Thirteenth back then — seventeen? Eighteen? Just out of the Chunshen Academy, not yet sat for his examinations, at the most reckless age of his life. There wasn’t a young man in all of Jinling more remarkable than him.”

The old man seemed genuinely fond of this wayward grandson of his. As he reminisced, he patted her shoulder with a smile. “He was brilliant from the time he was small — began his studies at five, well-read in the classics, spoke in eloquent phrases, and by twelve his tutors already called him a rare talent… And it was precisely because of this that he grew into that carefree, cynical, proud temperament of his, never taking anything seriously. I always worried, watching him — if no one reined him in, he was bound to suffer greatly for it one day.”

Ye Liuchun murmured a soft “Mm.” The old patriarch sighed and suddenly turned to look at her. “Until the year you left Jinling.”

The patriarch… had already known of her, back when she’d left Jinling?

“That year… Thirteenth came home drunk one day and suddenly went to beg his father for something. His father had never once refused him anything since he was a child, and even when Thirteenth said he wanted to help a courtesan clear her status, his father didn’t grow angry. Then Thirteenth said… he wanted to marry you as his principal wife.”

Ye Liuchun felt something lurch violently inside her, and went completely still.

“His father assumed the wine had addled his brain and locked him in the ancestral hall. But the next day, once he’d sobered up, he still hadn’t changed his answer — ha, Thirteenth grandson’s wife, don’t blame his father too harshly. We Bai family have always raised our children with strict, proper discipline, and yet somehow, we always seem to miscalculate. My daughter ran off to the border with someone and was cast out of the family by clan law. The eleventh grandson never listened to a word anyone said either, and ran off as well. Discipline has never seemed to work on any of them… It was hard enough for our family to finally produce someone like Thirteenth — his father had hoped he would rise to become chancellor, a great statesman remembered through the ages.”

“I couldn’t talk his father out of it. Thirteenth was locked in the ancestral hall for several days, beaten daily — his father was half out of his mind with fury at the time, past caring about anything. After all, Thirteenth had always been an obedient child before this… After a few days of beatings, Thirteenth found his moment and slammed his head against a pillar.”

Ye Liuchun flinched, startled, but the old man reassured her. “It’s all right, it’s all right — that boy always had more schemes up his sleeve than anyone. Did you really think he’d let himself die? He only knocked himself briefly unconscious, and while the household was in an uproar fetching the physician, he slipped out through a dog hole and ran.”

That was… how many days had it been?

While she’d been waiting by the window all that time, had he… been enduring this kind of torment?

“You already know what happened after that,” the old patriarch sighed. “He had property of his own outside the estate — he probably meant to take you and leave Jinling together right then. But you were already gone by the time he got there, and he came home covered in blood, utterly broken, only to be struck across the face by his own father the moment he walked through the door. He went half-mad after that, picking fights with anyone who crossed his path, turning the whole household upside down… Once his wounds had healed, he left a letter for his old father, saying he was going to the capital to seek out his eleventh brother, and just like that, he was gone.”

Thinking back on it, the old patriarch shook his head repeatedly. “I told his father, don’t push the boy, don’t push him — but he wouldn’t listen! And look what happened — his father refused to let him marry a courtesan, so Thirteenth simply went and moved into the pleasure quarters himself, spending his days writing poetry, verses that eventually made their way back to Jinling and drove his father to absolute apoplexy.”

“And so two years passed, until his father finally came around, and the two of them reconciled at last… Before you married into the family, he’d already threatened his father up and down about it, and his father, still shaken from before, hardly dared say another word. Now, everything I’ve just told you — please, don’t ever mention it to Thirteenth, or else—”

“Grandfather!”

At the sound of Bai Shating’s voice, the old patriarch immediately clapped a hand over his own mouth, laughing as he shook his head at her.

Bai Shating came over, smiling brightly, and took her hand — in front of his elders, she surely wouldn’t pull away. “Dinner’s almost ready. Let’s go together.”

After leaving Jinling, the two of them returned once more to the capital.

The capital had changed almost beyond recognition. Zhou Tan had left the capital with Qu You, returning to Lin’an; Su Chaoci had risen to chancellor, buried in the work of setting things right; Bo Ying had resigned his post and gone traveling, with no fixed date of return.

Ye Liuchun often suspected that Bai Shating already knew something — and yet, whenever he faced the evasive looks Su Chaoci and Ai Disheng gave him, he continued laughing and joking as usual, as though he’d noticed nothing at all.

Then, one day, thoroughly drunk, he took her riding out to a low hill on the outskirts of the capital.

It was only then that she realized he’d known all along.

“This hill — this hill here — is where my cousin built gravestones for the people he cared about. When I came with him to pay respects to his parents… I came here too.”

Ye Liuchun watched him count the graves one by one, until finally he dropped to his knees with a heavy thud.

“See, I knew it… there’s a new grave here!”

He reached out, eyes closed in the darkness, and read aloud. “Dear friend… Bo Ying…”

Ye Liuchun’s heart sank.

“He…”

“They all thought I was a fool,” Bai Shating said, wrapping his arms around the gravestone and laughing wildly. “All of them wanted… to keep it from me. You too—”

He wiped roughly at his face, his voice rising slightly. “Grandfather told you everything, didn’t he? Ever since we came back from Jinling, you’ve been so much kinder to me… He must have told you. He always said I never keep my word, that I’m even less reliable than my own father… Now you know, and you pity me. I don’t want your pity…”

Ye Liuchun tried to help him up, but he clung to the gravestone and wouldn’t let go, and finally she grew exasperated. “Why should I pity you? Weren’t you the one who first—”

Bai Shating, drunk as he was, remained perfectly lucid when it came to arguing with her, and shot right back. “So you won’t even pity me a little?”

Ye Liuchun nearly burst out laughing despite her anger. “You’re the one who wronged me first — who’s supposed to pity me?”

Bai Shating, furious and flustered, cried out, “I wronged you, I know I was wrong! We’re already married anyway — if you don’t want to forgive me, then don’t. This whole life of mine…”

Ye Liuchun kicked him. “Get up. What are you doing, throwing a tantrum out here?”

Bai Shating, stubborn as ever, retorted, “What’s it to you?”

Ye Liuchun felt a headache coming on. “Aren’t we already…”

She pressed her fingers to her temple and finished the sentence. “Aren’t we already married? If you don’t want me looking after you, then I’ll leave.”

She turned and started walking away. Bai Shating scrambled after her, trailing behind, thoroughly dejected.

Ye Liuchun glanced back once, and Bai Shating immediately began wailing pitifully after her: “Wife, wife, wife, wife, wife, wife, wife…”

By the time they reached the bottom of the hill, thoroughly irritated by his incessant calling, Ye Liuchun shot him an angry glare — but couldn’t help laughing despite herself. “Be quiet.”

He immediately pushed his luck further. “Wife, hold me.”

Life in this world was short, and always carried more pain than joy.

Since there was no going back now, and they were bound to spend the rest of their lives entangled with one another, perhaps adding a little more joy to cover over the old pain was, after all… the best choice left to make.