Though Fenghe Garden was built in the mountains with a façade that didn’t appear particularly imposing, after entering the estate gates one could tell it occupied an extremely vast area. The corridors curved and wound around like a silk sash, built even more exquisitely than the gardens of Suzhou and Hangzhou. Though there was no ostentatious gold and jade decoration, it revealed an even more refined air of nobility from an established family. Yet this was merely the private residence and separate estate of the second young master of the Qi family.

Shen Xiling was led by that young servant boy through the layers of corridors, bridges, and courtyards of Fenghe Garden, finally arriving at their destination—a two-story small building, perhaps a study. Shen Xiling looked up and saw the characters “Wangshi” inscribed above the doorway, written in the same calligraphy as the “Fenghe Garden” inscription at the main gate.

She heard the servant boy in blue tell her: “Go in, the young master is waiting for you.”

Shen Xiling thanked him, then climbed the steps and pushed open the door.

Inside Wangshi, it was as warm as spring. All four walls were lined with tall bookshelves, displaying the master’s abundant collection. When she entered, the room was bright as daylight. The man she had met once before was sitting behind a writing desk reviewing official documents. Hearing her entrance, he raised his eyes to look at her, just as on that snowy night when she first saw him—with the same cool and indifferent gaze.

Shen Xiling watched him set down his brush, still sitting behind the desk as he said to her: “I told you that your father paid a great price to save you. I helped you at his request and also expended considerable effort.”

His brow furrowed: “Yet now you’ve returned.”

Though the snow’s light in the forest that night had been bright, it wasn’t as clear as the candlelight illuminating Wangshi tonight, making his expression all the more distinct. When he wasn’t frowning, he merely seemed indifferent, but when he did furrow his brow, there was a stern quality that was somewhat frightening.

But at that moment, Shen Xiling could no longer afford to be afraid. After all, she had nothing left to lose, and instead felt a sense of calm. She knelt before his desk and performed a proper formal bow to Qi Ying, then remained kneeling as she said: “I deeply treasure my father’s loving protection, and I am also deeply grateful for the young master’s life-saving grace. However, my mother has passed away, and Langya is not her resting place. My father’s whereabouts are now unknown, and as their child, I must fulfill my filial duty to bury my parents together. I dare not survive alone.”

Her expression was calm and composed, vastly different from several days ago. Then she had been merely an eleven-year-old girl, but now after these few days she seemed to have completely changed in temperament—likely due to the great ordeal of life and death. Such an appearance and such words would move anyone who heard them, yet Qi Ying’s expression remained cold, with traces of disdain in his eyes as he said: “The word ‘filial’ should not be spoken lightly. You are merely afraid of living, so there’s no need to speak evasively before me.”

Afraid of living.

Those two simple words filled Shen Xiling with shame and defeat. Her frail, small body trembled slightly under his sharp words, then she lowered her head.

Qi Ying no longer looked at her, taking up his brush to continue reviewing the documents he hadn’t finished earlier. Without raising his head, he said to her: “Your father and I were merely nodding acquaintances. Helping you reach Langya was already the utmost in benevolence and righteousness. Since you’ve now chosen to return on your own, matters of life and death no longer concern me, and I haven’t failed your father’s trust.”

Shen Xiling’s fingernails dug deep into the flesh of her palms. She said nothing and continued to keep her head lowered, but heard Qi Ying continue: “However, I did arrange for your father’s burial. His dying wish was to be buried in the small courtyard where you and your mother once lived. I’ve already buried him there. If you wish to find him, you may go there yourself.”

Upon hearing this, Shen Xiling’s nose finally began to sting.

Many thoughts flashed through her mind at once—her father’s tall figure, her mother’s beautiful face, those few unremarkable bamboo shoots in that courtyard, the grass-woven grasshopper she never got in the end. Finally, all the thoughts in her heart cleared away completely, leaving only what Qi Ying had said: her father’s dying wish was to be buried in that small courtyard—that humble, undignified little courtyard.

She secretly pinched herself, holding back her tears, and struggling to suppress her grief, she kowtowed to Qi Ying, her whole body trembling as she said: “Thank you… young master.”

Qi Ying still didn’t raise his head, merely waved his hand dismissively among his documents, saying: “Go.”

Shen Xiling kowtowed again and left.

That night, it was ultimately Bai Song who took her back to that small courtyard.

When he came, his expression was normal, but his movements seemed somewhat unnatural. When Shen Xiling asked him why, he only showed complete impatience and claimed it was nothing. However, the gatekeeper at Fenghe Garden was warmhearted and told her that Bai Song had been punished with one hundred lashes for defying Qi Ying and bringing Shen Xiling back to Jiankang on his own. Just as she was speaking with Qi Ying, Bai Song had received thirty lashes. Qi Ying had ordered that after Bai Song helped Shen Xiling bury her parents together, he should return to receive the remaining seventy lashes.

Shen Xiling looked toward Bai Song and saw that in the snowy night he still wore that same expression, looking impatient as usual. Yet throughout this journey, she had been greatly aided by his help. The shallow, small scar between his left eyebrows should have given him a fierce appearance, but at that moment Shen Xiling found him very dear to her.

Although she knew that Bai Song’s kindness couldn’t be repaid with a simple thank you, she still wanted to express her gratitude. But Bai Song had already turned and was walking down the mountain. Shen Xiling watched his somewhat awkward retreating figure, bit her lip, and hurried after him.

That small courtyard was no different from usual.

Snow had fallen on the wooden gate, just like the day her father had last come. Everything in the house was as it had been—her mother’s bed was clean and tidy, the bedding neatly folded to one side, the kitchen utensils all in their places, and the books her father had left here on the writing desk, along with her calligraphy practice sheets, were all intact. It was as if the inhabitants had only briefly stepped out and would return soon to continue their lives here.

Actually, when the officers had come that day, they had made quite a mess of the house—it hadn’t been in this orderly state at all. Bai Song said this was arranged by Qi Ying to let her father rest in peace.

Qi Ying had ordered her father to be buried beside the green bamboo he had planted with his own hands. An unmarked stone tablet stood before the grave—she wondered if this too had been her father’s wish during his lifetime. She had originally wanted to bury her parents together, but since her father was already interred, she didn’t wish to disturb his peace. So she and Bai Song buried her mother’s coffin beside her father. Though they weren’t sharing the same grave, they could be considered neighbors, probably more peaceful than when they had been together in life.

On her journey back from Langya to Jiankang, Shen Xiling had thought of erecting tablets before her parents’ graves—either writing “Beloved Father and Mother” or writing “Wife of Shen Qian” for her mother. Though her mother had never spoken of it, Shen Xiling knew she had always wanted to be with her father. It wasn’t that her mother cared much about status, she simply didn’t want to be separated from her father.

But now, standing before her parents’ graves in the small courtyard where they had once lived briefly together, seeing their burial mounds side by side, she remembered how they had gazed tenderly at each other in life, their eyes filled with smiles. Suddenly she felt these words need not be carved—indeed, carving them would only dishonor the affection between her parents.

Shen Xiling wiped the tears from her eyes, knelt before her parents’ graves, and respectfully kowtowed three times. Bai Song stood to the side watching and also bowed.

He watched Shen Xiling kneeling, then looked up at the pitch-black sky and said to her: “I’ll only escort you this far. From now on, you’ll have to make your own plans.”

When he said this, his expression was still quite cold, his hands crossed over his sword in a manner that seemed indifferent to her affairs. But Shen Xiling had spent these days with him and had somewhat figured out his temperament. She knew his words were actually expressing concern for her—probably pitying her as an orphan and worrying that she wouldn’t be able to sustain herself.

Shen Xiling stood up from before her parents’ graves and said to Bai Song: “Will you still be punished when you return?”

Bai Song snorted coldly, turned toward the courtyard gate, and said: “That’s none of your concern.”

Shen Xiling hurried after him saying: “But I haven’t yet repaid you…”

Bai Song stopped and glanced at her, snorting again: “How could you repay me?”

Shen Xiling bit her lip and said carefully: “I could take the remaining lashes for you.”

“You take them for me?” Bai Song laughed upon hearing this. “How many of seventy lashes could you endure? Less than twenty would kill you.”

Shen Xiling lowered her head.

Bai Song glanced at her, his expression softening somewhat, then walked directly toward the horse cart. Turning back to Shen Xiling, he said: “Little girl, do you want to try your luck?”

Shen Xiling looked up at him, not understanding his meaning.

Bai Song ran his hand along the horse’s mane and said: “Come back to Fenghe Garden with me and see if the young master will take you in.”

Qi Ying?

Shen Xiling thought of his cold and disdainful gaze looking down at her in Wangshi tonight, pressed her lips together, and said nothing.

The horse whinnied softly under Bai Song’s caress. Shen Xiling heard him chuckle and say: “While you’re at it, try pleading for me too—to be honest, I’m having some regrets now. It wasn’t worth taking all these lashes for a little girl like you.”

Shen Xiling thought to herself that her pleading would certainly be useless. The second young master Qi was a complete stranger to her, and his twice offering help had already filled her with immense gratitude. She had already caused him much trouble and was quite bothersome—how could her pleading be of any use? Still, Bai Song had suffered such punishment because he wanted to help her, so by both emotion and reason she should plead for him. Even if she couldn’t get Qi Ying to spare Bai Song, if he were in a good mood, perhaps she could ask him to let her take some of the lashes for Bai Song. That would be better than doing nothing at all.

Though she had nothing, she couldn’t simply owe Bai Song such a great debt without trying to repay even a little of it.

So she smiled and said to Bai Song: “All right.”

Late that night, Shen Xiling returned to Fenghe Garden with Bai Song again. Naturally, she was once again stopped outside the gate.

After Bai Song went in alone, the main gate closed. Soon after, the gatekeeper poked his head out again and said to her: “The young master heard you had also come and said that nothing exceeds three times. Since he had already helped you twice before, there would be no third time. He told you to go back.”

After saying this, unable to endure the cold snowy night, the gatekeeper hurriedly closed the gate and went back inside to warm himself by the fire, leaving Shen Xiling alone outside.

The night snow fell steadily—it was truly a great snowfall that Jiankang City might not see for decades. The stone steps in the mountains were already covered by thick accumulated snow, and the bitter wind was so cold it could almost freeze off one’s hands. Shen Xiling looked at that tightly closed gate, thinking that at this very moment Bai Song was being punished. He was suffering this because he had helped her, and ultimately, her affairs had nothing to do with him originally. Even if she had been homeless in Langya and died by the roadside, it really wouldn’t have concerned him. He could have easily ignored her and gone on his way, yet he had brought her south and helped bury her parents, and now was suffering the pain of lashing because of it.

Shen Xiling pressed her lips together and knelt on both knees before the gates of Fenghe Garden.

Since she couldn’t take the lashes for Bai Song, she should at least suffer some hardship here to ease her conscience. Though actually, no matter what she did, it would have no meaning for Bai Song, if she left without doing anything, she would be troubled by guilt for the rest of her life. She suddenly felt some disdain for herself too: Look at you, Shen Xiling, saying you want to repay others when really you just want to feel better about yourself.

She knelt before the gate for a very, very long time—exactly how long was unclear, but during the night the gatekeepers changed shifts. When the new gatekeeper opened the door to check and saw her still kneeling there, he was startled and asked in surprise: “How are you still kneeling here? Didn’t the previous shift tell you to leave?”

He tried to persuade her for a while, but saw that the girl seemed not to hear, only continuing to kneel on the ground with a pale face, refusing to rise. By then the accumulated snow was already quite thick, and where she knelt had become a snow pit. Since she wouldn’t listen to reason, the gatekeeper had no other option but to close the gate again.

The heavy snow fell rustling down, blanketing the earth. Some of the green bamboo in the mountains were still young and tender, snapped by the night snow, so breaking branches could be heard from time to time. Shen Xiling’s kneeling figure was cast in a long shadow by the two very bright lanterns hanging before Fenghe Garden’s gate, though in reality she was only eleven years old that year, her body just a small bundle. Snow fell all over her, cold enveloping her entirely. She was in agony from the endless cold and dizziness, yet she knelt there for a long time until she finally collapsed from exhaustion.

In the last moment before falling unconscious, Qi Ying’s gaze from Wangshi floated before her eyes again. She thought with some relief: That man hadn’t been wrong—she truly was…

…merely afraid of living.