Jin Mantang was the theater troupe that had recently replaced Xiangsi Troupe and become quite popular in the capital.

All the most popular theater troupes seemed eager to gain Duke Su’s approval, always performing a show for him first. As long as Ji Heng acknowledged their performance as good, the troupe was guaranteed success. Just like the former Xiangsi Troupe, Ji Heng seemed to hold the power of life and death over the capital’s theater troupes. He could make a troupe famous, and likewise, he could make one disappear very quickly.

Though in Jiang Li’s view, this was rather incredible—a dignified duke, a descendant of a Golden Militant Guard General, instead seemed more like someone who managed theater troupes. But sometimes she also felt that for someone like Ji Heng to have some connection with opera was understandable.

He was born beautiful, even more gorgeous than the actors onstage. He was born to stand before others radiating brilliance, yet he wasn’t quite suited to personally take the stage and perform opera. Because he lived too clear-headedly and too indifferently, unable to enter the mortal world’s predicament. Such a heaven’s favored son was probably only suited to standing beneath the stage, watching others’ false joys and sorrows, not even deigning to shed two drops of tears.

He only treated it as a joke to watch, just like the mocking smile at the corners of his lips.

The entire second floor had probably been reserved by Ji Heng, with no one else present. Jiang Li could walk out from the tea room, and when she reached the carved railing on the second floor and looked down, she could see the stage.

She could clearly see the people onstage, yet was one level higher than the audience on the first floor. Jiang Li guessed this was Ji Heng’s preferred perspective of looking down from above. But she had to admit, watching opera this way, compared to watching directly from below the stage, gave one more of a sense of detachment. How to put it—if people were too close to the actors, they easily became immersed. But being close to the actors yet standing higher than them allowed one to clearly feel this was a performance. No matter how wonderful the opera, if one couldn’t become immersed, one wouldn’t be led by the emotions within.

Jin Mantang’s leading actress was called Little Peach Red. She was a young woman, and because her face was covered in powder and makeup, her features weren’t very clear. But judging from her graceful figure and soft singing voice, she must be a rare beauty. No wonder the audience below was so supportive, applauding and cheering continuously.

This opera was called “The Case of Jiu’er.”

“The Case of Jiu’er” told a quite famous story about a woman from the previous dynasty. The young woman named Jiu’er married a scholar in the countryside. They were harmonious and loving as husband and wife. Later, the scholar went to the capital for the imperial examinations, became the top scholar, and then a high official. He caught the eye of a wealthy family’s young lady. The wealthy family’s master wanted him as a son-in-law, so the scholar concealed the fact that he already had a wife and child back home and married that wealthy young lady.

Far away in her hometown, Jiu’er and her young son didn’t know her husband had become someone else’s. It was just that suddenly one day, the scholar stopped sending letters home. When it rains, it pours—Jiu’er’s son fell seriously ill. With the family poor and no money for treatment, helplessly, Jiu’er could only take her young son to the capital to seek her husband. After enduring countless hardships and suffering others’ cold eyes, she finally arrived in the capital. But on the capital’s streets, she saw her husband behaving intimately with another woman.

The scholar refused to acknowledge Jiu’er and even had people beat her and drive her away. Only then did Jiu’er realize he had long had a wife and child and had long thrown his wife at home to the back of his mind. Jiu’er’s son couldn’t get silver to see a doctor in the capital either. Combined with the exhausting journey, he soon died of illness.

Having lost both husband and son, Jiu’er’s heart was filled with pain and unwillingness. She threw herself into a lake—a river in front of the scholar’s gate. After her death, she transformed into a blue bird, crying loudly day after day at the scholar’s gate, causing everyone to stop. This matter alarmed the Emperor, who ordered officials to thoroughly investigate. Learning that the scholar was such a heartless and ungrateful person, he stripped him of his official position and punished him severely. The wealthy young lady also divorced him. The scholar ended up with nothing and couldn’t survive the harsh winter, freezing to death.

This story was fabricated by a storyteller from the previous dynasty named Du. However, because it was so captivating and people deeply sympathized with Jiu’er’s plight, it was later adapted by theater troupes and performed onstage, becoming a very famous opera act. Women loved watching such melancholic and resentful stories and would cry along with Jiu’er. Men would sigh—though it was normal for men to have multiple wives and concubines, there was also the saying “a wife married in poverty should not be cast aside.” Such an immoral person—no wonder even Heaven couldn’t stand it in the end.

The first time Jiang Li heard this story, she was still a little girl in Tongxiang. At that time, she was young and didn’t cry along with it, only feeling indignant about the injustice of Jiu’er’s fate. She had even said to Xue Zhao that if it were her and she learned her bedmate was such a wolf-hearted, dog-lunged creature, she would never end her life before the scholar’s gate but would instead take a knife and perish together with him. Xue Zhao had said then, “When that time comes, you’ll surely be unable to bear it.”

She had scoffed—what was there to be unable to bear? He was nothing but an ungrateful wolf worse than an animal. That the Jiu’er in the story would still remember past kindness—she didn’t know if the person who fabricated this story hadn’t thought it through and made an error.

She couldn’t understand it then, but never expected that many years later, this story would be reprinted in her life like a copy. She became another Jiu’er. Her life underwent earth-shattering changes—lies, betrayal, rumors, and harm filled her final days.

But one thing had never changed from beginning to end—even now, if asked again, she could still say there was nothing she couldn’t bear to part with.

When the other party chose betrayal, they had completely severed all past affections with a sword. When others didn’t care about something yet one carefully preserved it—that wasn’t called kindness, it was called self-degradation.

She would absolutely not let anyone look down on her.

Onstage, Little Peach Red, playing Jiu’er, finally found her husband. However, her husband avoided acknowledging her. The young male actor sang, “It’s not that I won’t acknowledge you—I fear one wrong step will bring disaster upon myself.”

Little Jiu’er sang: “You speak of one wrong step bringing disaster, but clearly you’ve gained a new love and forgotten old kindness.

Remember when you studied in Junzhou seeking learning—your wife served your parents dutifully at home.

In the examination year, I sent you to the capital—at parting, I had thousands of words of advice for you.

I urged you, pass or fail, to return home early—you must know, parents are elderly and children are connected by heart.

Who knew you’d be gone three years without word—Huguang suffered great drought, both parents starved to death.

After our parents died, I couldn’t even bury them—I carried our children to find you.

Our marriage bond you remember not at all—your own flesh and blood you don’t cherish.

Strike your chest and think—could it be you have a heart of iron?”

The performer onstage sang with tears streaming down. Jiang Li listened with her heart pierced by knives. The lyrics made it truly difficult not to think of herself. Just as Jiu’er couldn’t understand—she had done nothing wrong, had done everything well—why would her husband conceal and deceive her? Jiang Li also wanted to ask Shen Yurun whether wealth and glory were truly so good, so good that even humanity could be abandoned, everything discarded?

Moreover, there was her child.

Her child, who hadn’t even had time to come into this world, perished in that filthy conspiracy. When Shen Yurun sacrificed him, did he hesitate even slightly? Did he know the child carried his blood?

Jiang Li didn’t dare continue thinking.

On the other side, Lu Ji, who had also been watching the opera, suddenly spoke, “Look, Second Miss Jiang is watching very attentively.”

All three looked toward Jiang Li.

Jiang Li stood sideways to them, her eyes lowered very low, yet staring fixedly at the people below without blinking, clearly watching very intently. Looking more carefully, one could see her tightly gripping the edge of the carved railing on the second floor—her knuckles had turned white from the force.

She had become immersed in the opera.

“What’s so strange about that?” Kong Liu disagreed. “Second Miss Jiang hates evil like an enemy and has a clear sense of right and wrong. This opera tells a stifling story—anyone listening would be angry. It’s very normal for Second Miss Jiang to be moved by the opera and listen intently.”

“It’s normal to be moved and affected by this opera,” Lu Ji said with a smile, “but this is Second Miss Jiang we’re talking about.”

What kind of person was Second Miss Jiang? She always seemed to be smiling, and even when not smiling, she was as gentle as a pool of stream water—calm and mild. One could hardly ever see her greatly angry or anxious. This temperament in some people would be lukewarm, but in Second Miss Jiang, anyone with discernment could probably tell—Second Miss Jiang simply didn’t care.

Or rather, most matters in her eyes were unimportant. Unimportant matters didn’t need to be taken to heart. This was a mentality one possessed only after experiencing great life upheavals, more commonly seen in elderly people who had lived through worldly affairs.

Even if Second Miss Jiang had once “killed her mother and brother,” even if she had been sent to a nunnery to stay alone for eight years, it still wouldn’t necessarily lead to her current gentleness born of experiencing great storms.

In short, Jiang Li wouldn’t take small matters to heart. Someone who didn’t even care about people who could ruin her entire life’s reputation—would she empathize over a small opera?

Others might, but Second Miss Jiang definitely wouldn’t. If she made any unusual reaction because of this opera, it could only mean this opera had touched her—in her past life, there were things that overlapped with certain elements in this opera.

This was empathy.

Ji Heng’s fingertips brushed across the white fan handle. He suddenly stood up, looking at Jiang Li with some interest, and walked toward her unhurriedly.

“He…” Kong Liu was about to speak when Lu Ji pulled him down. Lu Ji made a “shh” gesture and said, “Watch the opera properly.”

Little Jiu’er was still singing: “My husband became an imperial son-in-law in the capital—I wandered the palace courtyard holding a pipa.

How hateful that once he became wealthy and noble—ungrateful and disloyal, he… he abandoned his first wife.

I am his wedded wife—I remember when he went to the imperial examinations.

He said pass or fail, he would return to his hometown.

Unexpectedly, drought struck Huguang—poor families starved.

My parents-in-law starved to death in the thatched cottage—no silver to bury them properly.

I cut two locks of black hair from my head—exchanged them on the street for two burial mats.

Every neighbor spoke of it—my husband had become top scholar.

I carried my children to visit him—begging door to door to Bianliang.

I rushed through the Muchi Palace gates—he kicked me with one foot,

knocking me down beside the palace gate…”

Wedded wife… Jiang Li thought in a daze. What an affectionate term, just like Shen Yurun’s gentleness toward her back then. Mid-Autumn nights like this—she had experienced quite a few, each one filled with joy and contentment. Who knew there would come such a day when recalling the past would feel like swords entering her abdomen, each blade cutting to the bone, driving one to wish for death?

She could hardly distinguish whether this was just “The Case of Jiu’er” opera or her real self. She seemed to have become Jiu’er, yet also seemed even more tragic than Jiu’er.

Just at this moment, a handkerchief was suddenly offered from beside her.

Pure white, without any embroidery, silk smooth—it flowed with subtle luster under the lamplight. One look told her it was very soft.

“Wipe it,” Ji Heng’s voice still sounded calm and composed. He said, “Second Miss’s pear blossoms in rain appearance really doesn’t look good.”

Jiang Li didn’t even bother about his less-than-pleasant words and hurriedly reached up to touch her cheeks. She felt them wet—she didn’t even know when she had cried.

She had actually cried.

Subconsciously, Jiang Li was about to accept Ji Heng’s handkerchief, but the next moment she came to her senses. She smiled and said, “Thank you, Your Grace the Duke, but I have my own.” She pulled out a light green handkerchief from her bosom. Though it couldn’t compare to Ji Heng’s precious one, it was also quite elegant. She calmly wiped away her tears.

Her movements were as natural as brushing away dust.

She hadn’t expected her subconscious smile, combined with the tears at the corners of her eyes, would create an indescribably strange effect. Even Ji Heng paused momentarily. Noncommittal, he withdrew his handkerchief and said to Jiang Li, “I didn’t expect someone as iron-hearted as Second Miss Jiang would also cry.” He spoke unhurriedly. “I’m beginning to suspect Second Miss Jiang is an opera fanatic.”

“If the opera is wonderful, I watch it. If not, I don’t watch.” Jiang Li also smiled. “Everyone says Jin Mantang is the capital’s premier troupe. Today I’ve finally witnessed it—that actress called Little Peach Red has a singing voice that easily moves people.”

“What moves people isn’t Little Peach Red’s singing—it’s the opera itself.” Ji Heng said, “Second Miss Jiang just became immersed in the opera.”

“Me?” Jiang Li looked at him with surprise and smiled. “I’m not a character in the opera. How could I become immersed? Your Grace jests.”

“Second Miss has great skill in performing, but your skill in lying isn’t so good.” Ji Heng smiled and sighed. “Your lies are truly too clumsy.”

Jiang Li’s brow furrowed slightly. Just as she was about to speak, Ji Heng suddenly hooked her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

This gesture was extremely frivolous. Kong Liu on the side nearly cried out in shock but was silenced by Lu Ji covering his mouth.

Caught off guard, Jiang Li momentarily didn’t know whether she felt ashamed, angry, or surprised. She could only stare fixedly at Ji Heng.

She had seen Ji Heng up close several times, but no matter how many times she looked, each time felt like the stunning amazement of first meeting. His light red robe hung loosely, the peonies embroidered at the collar exquisite and neat. Against the mournful and tragic singing, he appeared even more deeply gorgeous. Like a red lotus blooming in the pale winter, scorchingly dazzling. Or like seeing a bright, clear moon in the reflection of an abyss—beautiful enough to make one’s heart go cold.

His eyes were light-colored, a transparent amber, yet the contours of his eye shape were naturally deep, as if naturally outlined with eye makeup, hooking one’s soul like a painting. His nose bridge had an impossibly beautiful shape. His lips were thin and red—even his callous, mocking smile made one want to throw caution to the wind and steal a kiss.

And with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, he slowly, bit by bit, leaned forward. The more intimate he became, the more indifferent he was. His eyes rippled so enticingly that one couldn’t help holding their breath. His voice was low and husky as he said, “Eyes are the seedlings of emotion. Your eyes have betrayed your heart.”

Jiang Li said, “I haven’t.”

“There’s someone in your heart,” he said.

Jiang Li: “There isn’t.”

“This person in your heart—you don’t love them, but you hate them deeply,” he said with a smile.

Jiang Li froze. That phrase “there isn’t” could no longer be spoken.

This young man was like a demon who understood human hearts. Everything in the world had nowhere to hide before his eyes. Jiang Li couldn’t help but wonder whether this person could see through all lies and understand all betrayals. Because his enchanting eyes could make everyone sink into them, yet he alone could never sink.

He lived too clear-headedly, and was thus destined never to be too happy.

In this instant, Jiang Li inexplicably felt relaxed. In these several encounters with Duke Su Ji Heng, not once had she held the upper hand. Though she hadn’t exactly been at a disadvantage either, Jiang Li knew in her heart that oppressive pressure indeed made her very uncomfortable. But at this moment, she understood—someone like Duke Su Ji Heng could indeed see through everything. But people who lived too clearly, who understood too much, mostly had very hard lives.

Rare is the gift of muddle-headedness.

It was as if finally, in one thing, Ji Heng was destined to have no way to surpass her. Jiang Li suddenly curved her eyes and brows. As if her tense body also relaxed in that instant, she looked at Ji Heng and smiled, “However Your Grace the Duke says it is, that’s how it is then.”

Not expecting Jiang Li to suddenly compromise, and speak so lightly, Ji Heng’s eyes flashed with a trace of surprise.

Jiang Li gently freed herself from Ji Heng’s hand. Ji Heng released the fingers that had lifted her chin and returned to stroking his folding fan. He once again became that polite and courteous appearance, donning his sheepskin.

“Your Grace the Duke loves watching opera so much. Aren’t you afraid that one day you’ll also become immersed in the opera and be laughed at by others?”

Ji Heng’s eyes deepened slightly, as if he hadn’t expected Jiang Li not only to not retreat one step but to say such somewhat provocative words.

“Does Second Miss Jiang think I’m someone who would become immersed in opera?” He lightly fanned himself and said, “I’m not as benevolent as Second Miss.”

Meaning he wasn’t as benevolent as Jiang Li—he wouldn’t shed tears for unimportant people or others’ joys and sorrows.

“Opera is opera—it cannot be taken as real.” He uttered these cruel sentences in an almost tender tone.

“People in the opera don’t know they’re in the opera,” Jiang Li said softly. “Just as I encountered a story that moved me here—perhaps one day, you will too.”

She spoke gentle words, yet the gaze she gave Ji Heng held a trace of stubbornness. This finally made her look like a “young lady,” but her way of speaking was still so euphemistic and meaningful.

“Then I’ll destroy that opera,” Ji Heng smiled very amiably. “I won’t be an actor.”

These simple and brutal words were truly Ji Heng’s style! Jiang Li felt somewhat stifled. In his bones, Ji Heng was an autocratic person. He didn’t need to consider others’ thoughts or care about others’ opinions. In his heart, he already had his own scale—he only needed to add weights to it.

No one could become his weight, so no one was destined to become his weakness. He was destined never to be threatened by anyone. He had no weaknesses, which was why everyone feared him.

Jiang Li said coldly, “Then I wish Your Grace the Duke can always remain an audience member as you are today!” She didn’t understand which nerve of hers was wrong, insisting on coming here to spar verbally with Ji Heng. Someone like Ji Heng—it was best not to associate too much with him, to avoid him as much as possible.

But this person could easily provoke the spirit in her bones, making her involuntarily talk more with him. He truly was a master at manipulating hearts!

However, in this world, even eagle trainers got their eyes pecked by eagles—such things were common.

Jiang Li said, “What is concentrated must wither; what is diluted often deepens.” She snorted softly in her heart, turned, and walked toward Kong Liu.

Ji Heng stood in place, dumbfounded. After understanding, he almost couldn’t help laughing aloud.

Jiang Li was warning him that the thinnest things might ultimately be the most profound. The more excessive his actions, the more likely he’d face retribution in the future.

Kong Liu was whispering with Lu Ji about how Ji Heng and Jiang Li seemed about to quarrel when he suddenly saw Jiang Li walking over. He squeezed out a fairly amiable smile and said to Jiang Li, “Why has Second Miss Jiang come over? Not continuing to watch?”

“There’s nothing good to watch.” Jiang Li’s smile was gentle and modest, showing no trace of having just verbally sparred with Ji Heng. She said, “I’ve seen this story many times already, and it’s too tragic. Today is Mid-Autumn—I don’t wish to feel sorrowful.”

Kong Liu suddenly understood and nodded repeatedly. “Right, right, right.”

Ji Heng stood by the carved railing with arms crossed, watching with interest as Jiang Li handled Kong Liu’s small talk with ease. She was a little lady who knew how to change faces, and her face-changing ability was quite impressive.

He glanced again at Little Peach Red still singing incessantly onstage and pondered—he just didn’t know which person she loved and hated.

It probably wasn’t Zhou Yanbang.

…

Dealing with a straightforward person like Kong Liu was much more relaxing than with Ji Heng. Even the smiling goateed man beside him who kept trying to get information from Jiang Li was easier to handle than Ji Heng.

When dealing with Ji Heng, he never hesitated to show a completely different side from his amorous beauty—such as cruelty, such as cold indifference.

Kong Liu even asked Jiang Li whether she had any thoughts about becoming an archer or cavalryman in his Light Chariot Army. Her archery and horsemanship were extremely outstanding, no less than men’s. Moreover, without any prior training, she could already do this—after military training, she would surely be even more excellent. Though their cavalry didn’t have women, she could become that precedent.

Jiang Li was quite troubled.

Kong Liu’s heart was truly too big. He seemed to have forgotten that Jiang Li was Jiang Yuanbai’s daughter, the current Chief Minister’s daughter. How could she give up being a noble young lady to become a cavalryman? Even if Jiang Li herself was willing, Jiang Yuanbai would never agree. He would probably send up a memorial directly to the Emperor, accusing Kong Liu of abducting the Chief Minister’s young lady.

Jiang Li politely declined.

Kong Liu was very disappointed.

Lu Ji, however, kept smiling and chatting with Jiang Li, occasionally asking about matters in the Jiang household. Though everything he asked about was trivial, Jiang Li still sensitively detected that Lu Ji was trying to extract information from her. Jiang Li didn’t know Lu Ji, nor did she know what he was plotting. Even if Lu Ji was Ji Heng’s person, Jiang Li wouldn’t lower her guard because of it. After all, Ji Heng wasn’t a good person either. What if he wanted to frame the Jiang family from behind? She now had the Jiang family as her backing—if the Jiang family fell, as a Jiang family young lady, there would inevitably be few paths she could take.

Jiang Li smiled and answered Lu Ji while avoiding all the important questions. After several rounds, Lu Ji also realized Jiang Li had caught on, so he stopped asking and just smiled, continuing to bicker with Kong Liu.

Ji Heng did nothing, only leaned against the carved railing watching “The Case of Jiu’er.” He watched carelessly, making one doubt whether he was actually watching at all.

Making one wonder whether this too was just another of his performances.

After sitting for who knows how long, Jiang Li estimated about the time of one incense stick had passed. She stood up and said, “Gentlemen, I must go now. If I can’t find my second uncle and the others, they’ll worry. It’s already getting late…”

“Then we’ll escort you back!” Kong Liu waved his large hand.

“Wait.” Lu Ji stopped him and said, “After all, we are His Grace the Duke’s people. Escorting Second Miss back this way, though we can explain it clearly, might still cause misunderstandings. We naturally don’t mind, but Second Miss Jiang is a young lady—to avoid causing Second Miss trouble, it’s better to escort her to her brother’s side. To her brother, it will be easier to explain.”

Jiang Li understood—meaning it was much easier to fool Jiang Jingrui than Lu Shi and the others.

Ji Heng said, “Wen Ji.”

Wen Ji was being surrounded and stared at as a curiosity by Baixue and Tong’er. After all, the Jiang household had no guards born this handsome. Tong’er had been comparing whether Wen Ji or Jiang Jingrui was better looking, comparing from eyebrows, eyes, nose, mouth, and still couldn’t reach a conclusion. Instead, she made Wen Ji blush bright red with embarrassment, at a loss.

Now hearing Ji Heng’s command, Wen Ji could finally escape the two maids. He immediately said, “Present.”

“Escort Second Miss Jiang back,” Ji Heng said.

Wen Ji nodded. Jiang Li bowed to Ji Heng: “Thank you for Your Grace the Duke’s hospitality.”

“You’re welcome.” Ji Heng smiled lightly. “Until we meet again.”

Jiang Li: “…”

She truly hoped that “again” would be a hundred years later—no, a thousand years later would be better.

Finally emerging from Wangxian Tower, Jiang Li breathed a slight sigh of relief. Looking back, Wangxian Tower stood among the coming and going streets in the capital’s center, lights glowing like an unreal beautiful dream.

She suddenly discovered that today’s Mid-Autumn, which she had originally thought would involve painful memories from seeing familiar sights, had been thoroughly disrupted by Ji Heng.

Though at first there had indeed been reminiscence, the verbal sparring with Ji Heng had somehow prevented those feelings of unwillingness and pain from overwhelming her. By now, she felt entirely relaxed.

It could be considered accidentally beneficial.

She said, “Let’s go.”

After finding Jiang Jingrui, Wen Ji immediately disappeared into the crowd. When Jiang Jingrui saw her, he immediately said, “Where did you go just now? I kept looking for you everywhere and couldn’t find you. I was about to tell Mother to think of a solution!”

“I got pushed by the crowd to a remote area. It took great effort to come back,” Jiang Li lied without changing expression. “Everything’s fine now.”

“Really?” Jiang Jingrui looked at her suspiciously. “Why were you gone so long? Your makeup is a bit smudged…”

“It’s too hot. Sweat smudged it,” Jiang Li said. “Let’s go find Second Aunt now. At this hour, we should be heading back.”

Jiang Jingrui was a bit dejected. He still hadn’t gotten the white rabbit lantern, so he could only give up.

Jiang Li sighed inwardly. No wonder Lu Ji had said that—Jiang Jingrui was indeed very easy to fool.

Author’s Note: Good, he lifted her chin. Rounded off, that’s basically consummating the marriage, right? (/ω╲)