Later, Lu Hong left Jizhou for the capital to sit for the Metropolitan Examinations.
And Lu Qian grew bolder still. He appeared before her one day and laid his heart bare. She was shocked and furious. She drove him away without a shred of mercy — a blunt and scalding refusal, not a word softened.
Lu Qian stumbled away in a daze. Weighed down by too much feeling, he went out and walked in the rain, and fell into a high fever. For three days the fever would not break. Madam Ling was beside herself with terror, keeping constant vigil at his bedside in tears.
During his fever delirium, Lu Qian called her name again and again. Madam Ling, naturally, heard every word.
What followed — how furious Madam Ling had been — needed little elaboration. But with her son’s life barely hanging on, she hadn’t had the capacity to pursue Ling Jingshu’s punishment yet.
When the fever finally broke, Lu Qian lay listless and hollow in his bed, refusing food and speech alike.
Madam Ling had swallowed her fury and come to her pleading: “…You’re A’Qian’s own cousin, and his sister-in-law. Would you truly stand by and watch him slip away? I’m begging you — nurse him for a few days. Soothe him for a little while. Once he’s well again, you can keep as much distance as you like.”
Though deeply unwilling, Ling Jingshu had been unable to withstand Madam Ling’s weeping entreaties. She had agreed, grudgingly.
With her attending to him, Lu Qian’s condition quickly improved. He obediently drank his medicine and ate his meals, and recovered in short order. But she had stepped into a trap of her own making — the household servants began to whisper. And the look in Madam Ling’s eyes when they landed on her grew worse with each passing day.
Then the news came: Lu Hong had passed the Metropolitan Examinations first in all the realm and taken the title of Zhuangyuan. She was overcome with joy, her heart full of longing for him to return and take her and their son away from the Lu household.
Instead, what arrived was the devastating news that Lu Hong had given his heart to another.
She had crumbled. She wept until she could weep no more. And it was then that Lu Qian burst into her room in broad daylight, in front of all the servant girls, and declared without a care in the world: “Elder Brother has broken faith and chosen someone else. If he won’t have you — I will marry you.”
The servant girls stared, struck speechless with horror.
Madam Ling came running. She had Lu Qian bound and removed, her face the color of ash.
Before she left, Madam Ling turned and fixed Ling Jingshu with a single, venom-laden look. Like a poisonous snake — resentful, vindictive. The kind of look that sends cold through the bones.
Those memories, sealed deep and long forgotten, came flooding back.
Lu Qian’s fair, clean face, full of laughter — laid over the image in her memory of that ruthless, single-minded young man — the two overlapping without resistance.
Something tangled and inexpressible rose in Ling Jingshu. If not for Lu Qian, Madam Ling would never have turned those cruel and insidious methods against her. She would never have met the end she did…
Yet in those years of confinement in the Lu household — in all that suffering — it was only Lu Qian who had dared come to see her. And when she could endure no more, when she had wanted to flee back to her own family, it had been Lu Qian who helped her escape in secret.
In the end, Lu Qian was nothing more than a stubborn young man who could not have what he wanted. She hated the Lu family — but there was little hatred left in her for Lu Qian. No affection for him either, of course.
With her thoughts in such disarray, Ling Jingshu’s expression had gone distant without her realizing it.
Lu Qian had been watching Ling Jingshu’s face intently the whole time. He didn’t miss the flicker of abstraction, and felt a sharp, sudden ache. But he couldn’t let it show — he forced out a bright smile instead. “Cousin Jingshu, the only thing blooming in the garden right now is the Luoyang Brocade. Last time I came I didn’t have a chance to really look at it properly. Today I’d like to take my time. I hope Cousin Jingshu won’t keep her knowledge to herself — won’t you tell me more?”
He was reaching out, and she was not in the habit of swatting away an open hand. Ling Jingshu hesitated, then gave a nod.
Lu Qian’s eyes lit up. The hand he’d tucked in his sleeve trembled with feeling. Fortunately his sleeve concealed it — no one noticed.
Lu Hong had watched the whole exchange, and felt even worse.
Ling Jingshu indulged Ling Xiao with a warmth that went without saying. She was civil enough toward Lu Qian. But when she faced him — nothing but cold disdain, barely masked contempt. She didn’t even trouble herself to hide it.
Lu Hong’s nature had always been stubborn. The more she rejected him, the more keenly he wanted to be near her.
Clearly, pressing himself upon her in her line of sight was not the way forward.
His mind turned quickly, and an idea came to him. He quickened his pace deliberately, drew level with Ling Xiao, and spoke to him with easy warmth. “Cousin Xiao — I saw you listening in at the family school yesterday. Did you follow what the teacher was saying about the classical texts?”
Ling Xiao shook his head, a little abashed. “Only about half of it. Most of it went over my head.”
“That’s no fault of yours,” Lu Hong said with a reassuring smile. “You’ve spent most of your time at home, learning from a page boy reading to you rather than a teacher’s direct instruction — that’s quite different. If you don’t mind my stumbling over my words, I could walk you through what the teacher explained yesterday, from the beginning.”
Such friendliness and warmth — it lit up Ling Xiao’s face with genuine pleasure. “I wouldn’t want to impose — it seems too much trouble for Cousin Lu Hong.”
Lu Hong gave a mild smile. “It’s nothing at all. You’re being far too formal about it.”
He added: “I came to the Ling household with my mother and second brother, and we’ll be staying some months. I’m two years your senior, and I’ve put in my fair share of effort at my studies — I sat the prefectural examinations last year and passed with the degree of xiucai. I have some grasp of the Four Books and Five Classics. If anything in them ever puzzles you, feel free to ask me. Perhaps it might be of some use to you.”
Ling Xiao was genuinely pleased — but rather than agree outright, he gave Ling Jingshu’s sleeve a small tug. “A’Shu — wouldn’t it be too much trouble to ask Cousin Lu Hong like this?”
Lu Hong’s intentions were no mystery to Ling Jingshu. She had been about to refuse without a second thought — but when she looked at Ling Xiao’s face, alive with hope and anticipation, something in her relented.
Ling Xiao spent all his days within the inner courtyard. He had almost no companions his own age among the boys of the household. His life had always been solitary. Lu Hong’s eager overture would mean a great deal to him…
Never mind. Let Ling Xiao be happy.
Lu Hong was a man without integrity — but he was a genuinely accomplished scholar. His sincere guidance would be a real benefit to Ling Xiao.
Ling Jingshu smiled at her brother. “It is a bit of an imposition on Cousin Lu Hong. But since he offered of his own accord, I suppose his sincerity is not in doubt. Go ahead and accept.”
At her words, both Ling Xiao and Lu Hong brightened visibly.
The light in Lu Hong’s eyes — so plainly delighted — was distinctly grating to Ling Jingshu.
She laughed at him inwardly. Lu Hong was making up to Ling Xiao for one reason alone: to use him as a bridge to her. But her heart had long since turned to iron. Whatever stratagems Lu Hong employed, they would all be wasted.
All of them carried their private thoughts with them, and the flower-viewing became something of an afterthought.
Lu Qian was unusually talkative today, pulling Ling Jingshu into one question after another. “Cousin Jingshu — what two varieties were grafted together to make the Luoyang Brocade? How long is the bloom? Can it flower in other colors besides those two?”
“Cousin Jingshu, I have nothing to do all day — can I come with you to look after the peonies?”
“Cousin Jingshu, apart from tending the flowers, what else do you enjoy? Playing the qin? Painting? Needlework?”
“Cousin Jingshu…”
A fly buzzing endlessly in her ear.
Even Ling Jingshu’s considerable patience was wearing thin. “One ought to still the mind when admiring flowers,” she said without particular warmth. “How can anyone enjoy them with all this noise?”
Lu Qian took the scolding cheerfully and gave her a wide grin. “You’re right, you’re right. From now on, not a word.”
He lasted only a short while before opening his mouth again: “Cousin Jingshu — will you teach me how to grow peonies?”
Ling Jingshu stared at him.
Exactly as clinging as he’d been in her past life — impervious to cold looks, unbothered by sharp words. A warm, persistent plaster that stuck no matter how hard you tried to shake it free.
Lu Hong had been patiently walking Ling Xiao through his explanations, glancing up now and then to take in Ling Jingshu’s exasperation and Lu Qian’s boundless cheer. Something that didn’t quite have a name gathered in his chest — a faint, uncomfortable sourness.
When he realized that sourness was on account of Lu Qian, he couldn’t help but give himself a sardonic smile.
Lu Qian was still a child. He didn’t understand anything about youthful infatuation. To feel envious of a child was frankly ridiculous.
Then he looked again at Ling Jingshu’s profile — beautiful enough to still the breath — and something unfamiliar surged through Lu Hong, at once heady and bewildering, bittersweet and suffused with joy.
So this is what it feels like — to care for someone.
His heart floated untethered somewhere high above him, yearning to see her, moved by her every expression, wounded by her every look of disdain.
Lu Hong drifted.
Ling Xiao had been waiting for some time and still the voice had not continued. He couldn’t help but prompt: “Cousin Lu Hong — why have you stopped?”
Lu Hong came back to himself with a start. He cleared his throat, covering his distraction. “It’s nothing — I was only thinking of the best way to make this clear and easy to understand…”
A page boy came running, breathless, to deliver a message to the two Lu brothers: “Young masters — the Master’s ship has arrived at the dock. The Madam asks that the young masters take the carriage to the dock now to meet the Master.”