In the evening, rain began to fall over the capital. The misty drizzle carried a gentle breeze that made one drowsy. Song Wan lay half-propped in her room, inhaling the scent of grass from outside the window, slightly lost in thought. Occasionally a wave of damp air rushed to her nose, the scattered coolness disturbing her and making her increasingly irritable.

“Miss, the new bedding and your undergarments are ready…”

Heng Zhi stood by the bed holding a stack of bright red clothing, softly calling to Song Wan. Song Wan turned to look at the red undergarments embroidered with twin lotus flowers, lowering her eyes without speaking.

Both master and servant fell silent. Ling Yun and Xie Yi then entered—one carrying a square lacquered tray, the other holding folded men’s clothing.

“Miss Heng Zhi, the marquis’s things.”

Ling Yun smiled sweetly. After setting down Jiang Xingjian’s clothes and telling the servants to prepare hot water, she departed gracefully. Heng Zhi pressed her lips together and looked toward Heng Wu, and the two lowered their heads in unison.

Only Nanny Zhao knelt in the southwest corner with hands clasped together, mouth murmuring thanks to all the gods and buddhas. Her young miss was finally going to consummate with the marquis. If she could give birth to the marquis residence’s legitimate son, Miss would have something to rely on in the future. Even if the marquis took three or five more concubines, Miss wouldn’t fear anything.

“Miss, the marquis has entered the courtyard.”

Song Wan’s body stiffened. She instinctively clutched her skirt: “Any movement from Xiuyan Pavilion?”

Heng Zhi shook her head. Song Wan pressed her lips together, her expression dazed. Only after a long while did she slowly rise and walk toward the bathhouse.

In the bathhouse, heat steamed upward. The orchid grass fragrance in the bathwater stirred Song Wan’s troubled heart. She couldn’t help but walk behind the series of embroidered flower screens and casually pushed open a window.

The damp air outside made her nose and eyes sting. The rain grew heavier. Song Wan sat on the dressing platform, waiting in a daze.

When Jiang Xingjian entered the room, only Nanny Zhao’s face showed a trace of a smile. Heng Zhi and the others wore expressions wooden with severity, which made him forcefully suppress that inexplicable, indescribable excitement in his heart.

“Where is the first mistress?”

“Miss is in the bathhouse.”

Jiang Xingjian’s face reddened slightly as he turned to sit on Song Wan’s canopy bed. On the bed lay several soft pillows. Perhaps because they were filled with flower petals, a faint fragrance permeated everywhere.

Casually tugging at the newly changed mandarin duck wedding quilt beneath him, Jiang Xingjian’s jaw tightened slightly, and he suddenly felt an inexplicable nervousness.

“No need to attend—you may all withdraw.”

Jiang Xingjian spoke in a low voice. The maids slowly withdrew. Seeing Heng Wu’s hesitant appearance, Nanny Zhao stepped forward and pulled her out.

The room suddenly contained only him, silent enough to make one’s heart panic. There wasn’t the slightest sound from the bathhouse. Knowing she harbored grievances in her heart, Jiang Xingjian didn’t press her, only standing quietly outside the door waiting.

Looking at the shadow reflected on the door, Song Wan’s eyes reddened slightly. She and Jiang Xingjian had been betrothed in infancy since childhood. For twelve years in her boudoir, everything she learned and did was to prepare for becoming a Jiang family wife. Before her education even began, she knew Jiang Xingjian was her husband. In her youth, she only felt her future husband was a gentlemanly scholar, unparalleled in the world.

So based solely on a white jade plum blossom hairpin he had personally carved, she was willing to remain a widow for six years. But now…

The shadow outside the door didn’t move at all. Song Wan bit her teeth and also didn’t rise. The two remained in silent standoff until the rain outside grew heavier and heavier. The noisy rain stirred one’s temper, and only then did Jiang Xingjian lose some patience and gently knock on the door.

“Wan’er?”

Song Wan pressed her lips tightly together without uttering a sound.

Jiang Xingjian grew slightly anxious: “Are you well? If you don’t speak, I’ll come in.”

The man’s footsteps approached. Just as he was about to push open the door, Heng Wu outside shouted at the top of her voice: “Marquis! Marquis! Concubine Lin has come looking for you!”

Hearing this, Song Wan suddenly stood up from the embroidered platform, hastily wiping her face and saying: “I’m fine. Husband may attend to matters first.”

Her tone carried urgency, making Jiang Xingjian pause inexplicably for a moment.

“Marquis, Concubine Lin has come looking…”

“Take her back to her room.”

The sides of Jiang Xingjian’s forehead tightened. Now just hearing Lin Jiayue’s name would produce an indescribable discomfort in him. Many times he wondered whether abandoning Song Wan for those firearms back then had been worth it.

Heng Wu still wanted to say something more, but Jiang Xingjian’s gaze was fierce, and that bellyful of words suddenly stuck in her throat.

“Open the door.”

Jiang Xingjian lost his patience and reached out to pull open the bathhouse door. But just as he pulled it open half an inch, there came a thud from inside as someone closed it again.

“Song Wan.”

Jiang Xingjian’s tone was low. Thinking again of how she had refused grandmother’s deathbed words earlier, his heart grew increasingly annoyed. He added some force with his hand and actually pushed the door open.

Song Wan had been bracing against the door and was pushed backward two steps by his sudden force. She still wore her regular clothes, and the pearl hairpins on her head hadn’t been removed at all. Jiang Xingjian lowered his eyes, concealing the emotions within them.

She truly was unwilling to be intimate with him…

“Jiang Xingjian.”

Just as Song Wan didn’t know how to express her position, Heng Zhi entered supporting Lin Jiayue. The rain outside was heavy. Lin Jiayue was drenched through, standing timidly behind the two of them.

Jiang Jing and Concubine Zhou’s deaths made her thoroughly understand how inappropriate her actions had been. She had imagined this world too simply and beautified many harsh and heavy worldly concepts on her own.

But this came at the cost of two lives as tuition. Lin Jiayue had grown terribly thin. She already had large cat-like eyes, and now looked even more pitifully delicate.

“Jiang Xingjian, you promised me.”

Bean-sized tears rolled down, scalding her heart with burning pain. She couldn’t lose Jiang Xingjian. If she lost even Jiang Xingjian, then what would all her actions, and Jiang Jing and Concubine Zhou’s two lives, amount to?

Lin Jiayue stepped forward to take Jiang Xingjian’s hand. Jiang Xingjian looked down to see her hand covered with a thin gauze glove.

Song Wan raised her eyes, her gaze sweeping across Lin Jiayue’s face, then furrowed her brows. She didn’t see the slightest trace of love in the other’s eyes. What showed in Lin Jiayue’s eyes was entirely confusion and obsession.

Jiang Xingjian pulled away her hand, saying softly: “You’re ill. I’ll have Heng Zhi send you back.”

“I won’t go back.”

“I can’t go back. Where would I go?”

Her body was soaked through. The dripping water formed a circle at her feet, like an invisible shackle confining her, making escape difficult.

“Jiang Xingjian, keep your promise, and I will keep mine.”

Lin Jiayue suppressed her sobs and smiled slightly: “Come back to Xiuyan Pavilion with me. In five days I’ll take you to see those firearms, how about it?”

Jiang Xingjian’s eyes held unclear darkness. Song Wan signaled to Heng Zhi. Seeing her drape a clean outer robe over Lin Jiayue, she said gently: “Go prepare an umbrella. Send the marquis and Concubine Lin back to Xiuyan Pavilion.”

Lin Jiayue turned around, suddenly looking disheveled and flustered as she avoided Song Wan’s gaze. Heng Zhi supported Lin Jiayue. Heng Wu efficiently held up an umbrella and waited at the door. Jiang Xingjian looked at Song Wan’s cold smile, then helped the person out.

The two returned to Xiuyan Pavilion. Jiang Xingjian told her to rest well, but Lin Jiayue removed her clothes and tightly embraced him.

Jiang Xingjian tried to evade, but Lin Jiayue kissed his lips while crying: “Don’t leave. Besides you, I have nothing left…”

She truly couldn’t be without Jiang Xingjian. Hugging the man’s lean, narrow waist like a drowning person clinging tightly to driftwood in hand, Lin Jiayue cried as she pulled him toward the arhat bed, raising her hand to unhook the rope fastening the curtains.