Upon returning to the Xie Manor, Nanyi became an awkward existence.
In terms of status, Nanyi was the young madam of the Xie family’s main legitimate branch, but in terms of birth, she was a lowborn person inferior even to the female servants in the household.
Had she obediently gone to her death, this error might still have been tolerable, but not only did she not die, she had now brazenly returned to the Xie Manor.
How should this error be handled? It was a thorny matter, yet not so thorny after all.
Lu Jinxiu merely had the servants take Nanyi to Huai Xuyuan, where Xie Hengzai had lived before his death, and told her to wait for Concubine Qiao’s arrangements. This way, whatever arrangements Concubine Qiao made would have nothing to do with her.
Nanyi sat on a stone bench in the courtyard. She had thought that Concubine Qiao, who had chatted with her before the spirit tablet, was a kind person. She waited from daylight until dusk, not daring to wander about, afraid that Concubine Qiao might come looking for her and not find her. She watched helplessly as the sun slanted westward and sank behind the eaves, yet never received Concubine Qiao’s arrangements—she didn’t even appear.
She spent an entire day on that stone bench with extreme caution, utmost humility, and restless anxiety. Seeing the warm candlelight flicker to life in the distant buildings, she finally understood that Concubine Qiao would never appear again.
Not deliberately mistreating her was the dignity of noble families, but people from such families also could not tolerate this lowborn person sitting as their equal. So everyone chose silence.
All tacitly ignored her, treating her as invisible—out of sight, out of mind. This way they would neither be tainted by any ill fortune nor gain the stigma of abusing a female family member.
In this vast Wangxue Hollow, there were twelve large and small courtyards and residences, each named after elegant appellations for the twelve months, with pavilions, towers, carved beams and painted rafters. Yet in this grand estate, there was no place for Nanyi to shelter.
Qiao Yinzhi was not a harsh person—she had shown kindness to Nanyi before, but that kindness only existed under the premise that Nanyi would die in martyrdom for Xie Hengzai.
Nanyi could understand it all. To stay alive, she had used any means necessary and disrupted the order within the noble family. But so what? She just wanted to live. With no one caring for her, she would find her own place to sleep. The courtyard was so cold—she couldn’t just sit there all night.
But she also didn’t want to draw attention. She avoided the rooms with lit lamps, walking along the base of walls until she finally found an empty side room in Huai Xuyuan. When she pushed open the door, dust flew at her face, causing several coughs.
The room was pitch black without even a candle to be found. The bed had no bedding, only hard wooden planks frozen ice-cold.
Nanyi was hungry, cold, and thirsty, but fortunately the clothes on her body were thick, so she lay down fully clothed on the wooden planks. Once asleep, she would feel none of these hardships.
…
Nanyi thought she would sleep well. In the past when wandering on the streets, she had slept in even worse conditions. Now this room had tiles to shelter her from wind and rain—it was already quite good.
But Nanyi only dozed lightly for half a watch before being hazily awakened by the cold. Tossing and turning, the wooden planks beneath her made her back ache terribly.
Tomorrow she should find some straw to spread on the wooden planks.
Nanyi thought this as she tried to fall asleep again, but instead became increasingly awake.
She remembered Zhang Yuehui—one year when winter was approaching, he had somehow brought back a pile of cotton to make her a quilt.
Neither of them was skilled at such work, and the quilt they made was thick at one end and thin at the other, extremely uneven. But this didn’t prevent that quilt from being very warm. Later, though, it was slashed to ribbons by a corrupt official’s blade, and cotton fluff flew through the air like cold snow, floating for a long time before willing to fall.
She hadn’t been able to protect that quilt, and after that, she rarely felt warm again.
Nanyi turned over once more. Though her eyes were closed, she dimly sensed there seemed to be light in the room. She squinted open a crack and saw the scene in the room, then sat up with a start, all drowsiness gone.
Xie Queshan sat in the room with a lantern he had brought placed beside the table. The candlelight’s gentle glow enveloped the quiet little room, with light and shadow flickering on his face. His rod wounds hadn’t healed, making his complexion somewhat pale.
If Nanyi weren’t certain she was awake at this moment, given this hour and this scene, she would truly think this was a nightmare.
After being stunned for several seconds, Nanyi almost reflexively rolled off the bed and fell to her knees with a thud.
“How did you come here so silently like a ghost…”
Her voice trembled with cold, shivering partly from the chill and partly from real fear. But as soon as the words left her mouth, Nanyi regretted them—they sounded like cursing.
Fortunately, he seemed unconcerned, his face showing no ripples as he looked down at her.
“Sleeping here—is it cold?” His tone could hardly be called caring.
“…Cold.” She hesitated briefly before answering truthfully.
“You made such a commotion to stay alive, yet you still live like grass.”
Nanyi thought this was Xie Queshan’s reproach and hurriedly explained: “Young master, you know that daytime performance was just my delaying tactic. I never really intended to harm you. I’m sorry, young master. If I said something offensive… please be magnanimous and don’t take it to heart.”
Xie Queshan didn’t answer for a long time. Nanyi prostrated on the ground waiting a while, then puzzledly raised her head slightly to observe his expression.
Meeting her tentative gaze, he suddenly smiled.
“During the day you called me a disloyal rebel, but tonight you’ve changed your tune—you really can bend and stretch.”
“That… that was just part of the act. Otherwise, even with a hundred times my courage, I wouldn’t dare curse you.”
Nanyi knew her defense was utterly weak. In this pitch darkness with an unexpected visitor, who knew if he might suddenly decide to kill her.
He seemed able to see through her thoughts: “Get up. I won’t kill you.”
Nanyi still dared not rise: “Then why did you come here… what for?”
Looking at the silent Xie Queshan, Nanyi felt his expression carried a trace of loneliness.
Xie Queshan gazed toward the window, where thin paper let through light from outside, a faint glow spreading across the window frame. Actually, Xie Queshan himself didn’t know why he had come here—he just thought about how this vast Wangxue Hollow was brightly lit everywhere except for this one dark place. Perhaps only she was like him, both abandoned in darkness.
This thought swirled in his mind, and his steps had unconsciously sought this place.
But not a trace of such sentiment could be spoken aloud.
Xie Queshan took out a wooden box from his sleeve and said: “Help me with something.”
The wooden box emanated a heavy medicinal ointment smell. Looking again at Xie Queshan’s still-pale face, Nanyi understood.
She was still confused and muttered: “Don’t you have personal attendants?”
He Ping had left the manor in the night to handle some matters for Xie Queshan, so he indeed had no one at hand to command. As for the other servants and attendants in Wangxue Hollow, he wouldn’t let them near his person. Looking across the entire great estate, the only person he dared turn his back to was actually her.
Not out of trust, but because he understood that she depended on him for the life she had retrieved—only she wouldn’t dare kill him, nor would she kill him.
Xie Queshan was too lazy to explain further and merely glanced sideways at Nanyi. Not daring to say more, Nanyi took this as another whim of a powerful figure. How could she dare object? She obediently stood up and took the medicinal ointment.
The ointment’s heavy scent entered her nose, and Nanyi suddenly thought of a problem—he was injured on his back, so applying medicine would require removing his outer robe, wouldn’t it? She was a bit dumbstruck.
Xie Queshan had already begun untying his belt as if no one else were present, removing his outer garment.
By the faint light of the lantern on the table, his scarred back was completely exposed before her, bringing another kind of shocking impact.
Several days had passed, and some minor wounds had begun to scab over, but many crisscrossing wounds were still seeping blood.
Nanyi didn’t know exactly what she felt inside.
People are first fellow humans, then divided into enemies and friends. Her heart hadn’t hardened to complete invulnerability, so she inevitably empathized with someone she shouldn’t empathize with. She scooped out some ointment and carefully applied medicine to Xie Queshan’s wounds.
Ice-cold fingers spreading thick, greasy ointment—the sensation across his wounds was cool and piercing.
She seemed to be writing characters on his back with a brush: horizontal strokes, vertical strokes, left-falling strokes, turning strokes, right-falling strokes, but together they formed incomprehensible symbols, kneading this secret, unspoken night into his scars.
It hurt terribly. Xie Queshan’s hand gripping the table edge had veins bulging.
Seeing his tense hand, Nanyi genuinely tensed up as well. Her hand unconsciously pressed harder, and Xie Queshan finally couldn’t help but let out a muffled grunt.
“Continue.”
Before Nanyi could instinctively withdraw her hand, Xie Queshan calmly gave her an unquestionable command.
Nanyi could only continue applying medicine, her movements even more careful.
After this silence lasted a while, Xie Queshan suddenly spoke: “Though we have different positions, I deeply respect my elder brother, so I won’t mistreat his old associates.”
“But I… am unworthy of the name and can’t really be considered his old associate.” She replied while continuing her work.
“Names matter more than substance,” he said with complete certainty. “However, you are somewhat different from the others.”
“How am I different?”
“Your life was given by me.”
The weight of these words was heavy, making Nanyi feel somewhat breathless.
Finally finishing applying medicine to all his wounds, Nanyi obediently walked back around to face him, lowering her head and kneeling again, not daring to look directly at him: “Young master, the medicine is applied.”
Xie Queshan put on his clothes and studied Nanyi: “What is your name?”
“Nanyi. Nan as in south, yi as in clothing.”
“Nanyi, do you know what kind of wild beasts the wealthy and powerful most like to buy from beast fighting arenas?”
Nanyi thought for a moment and hesitantly answered: “The strongest ones?”
Xie Queshan shook his head: “Not necessarily the strongest, but definitely those with the strongest will to survive. To stay alive, they’ll unleash infinite potential to turn the tide of battle. That’s when beast fighting becomes most exciting.”
Nanyi looked up at him, feeling a chill run through her.
“You are the wild beast I bought back,” Xie Queshan stood up, his shadow pressing down heavily, “so you must strive to live in my fighting arena.”
Xie Queshan bent down to help Nanyi up. She could only rise with his assistance, and after standing steady, she wanted to withdraw her hand but found her arm still firmly gripped by him.
“Remember your identity, Nanyi. You are now indisputably the Xie family’s young madam. Except for elders, you need not kneel to anyone. From today, learn how to be a master. Don’t think about escaping again, and don’t steal anymore.”
“In my current circumstances, I have nothing—how can I be any kind of master?” Nanyi was somewhat annoyed, thinking he was toying with her.
“In noble families, when others won’t give you something, you must learn to demand it. You even demanded back your own life—what else can’t be demanded?”
Wind rose, battering doors and windows, squeezing through gaps into the already cold room. For a moment, only the sharp wind sound swirled around them in silent stillness.
Deep in his heart, he pitied her. True, he now had sufficient status to casually give her wealth and honor, but in these chaotic times she couldn’t protect such things and would only fall harder—it would be useless. He wanted to teach her to earn the right to live with dignity by herself. But he wouldn’t speak earnestly and patiently, nor did he need her to understand immediately.
After a long while, Nanyi finally looked up into his eyes. She understood some of his words, but was still half-believing, half-doubting.
“Then… can you leave the candle from the lantern for me?”
She asked carefully, learning and applying immediately as if testing, as if verifying.
He didn’t answer, only released her hand. Her arm fell, and her cold fingertips touched his palm.
Both paused.
His hand was truly so warm. Faced with warmth she could absorb, she momentarily forgot about propriety between men and women, forgot what kind of demon he was—her hand almost unconsciously lingered in his palm for a moment.
Then she regained her reason and reluctantly withdrew her hand.
“Fine.” He answered.
He walked straight out the door without taking his lantern.
Nanyi hazily moved to the table, placing her hand over the lantern wall. The lantern had been warmed by the candlelight and was perfect for warming hands.
She was just duckweed in turbulent times, taken wherever he brought her, sheltering wherever he placed her, unable to choose for herself.
Could she really survive?
Xie Queshan returned to his own room, empty and deserted. Cold moonlight streamed through the window lattice, illuminating the black and white chess pieces on the table clearly.
A half-finished game where victory and defeat already seemed decided. Xie Queshan played by moonlight, picking up a black stone and placing it in a corner of the board.
With a “click,” once placed, a move cannot be taken back.
The black stones were in almost certain defeat, but now, with one more stone in the upper right… the black stones suddenly had several more liberties.
One chess piece could revive an entire game.
“Whether we can win in the end—it’s still too early to tell.” Xie Queshan murmured to himself.