The Ling Family’s official vessel followed close behind the Crown Grandson’s fleet of official ships.
The shadow of the bandits’ nighttime raid still hung over everyone’s hearts. Like birds startled by the mere twang of a bow, the slightest stir of wind or rustle of grass was enough to send them into a panic. Only by trailing within the Crown Grandson’s convoy did they feel any true sense of ease.
They set off together, sailed together, and moored together to rest.
When the time came to rest, Ling Daye duly led Ling Ji to the Crown Grandson’s ship to pay their respects. As for the women of the household, it was naturally inconvenient for them to accompany.
Ling Xiao, whose blindness made movement difficult, had no wish to go. He sat in Ling Jingshu’s room, staring blankly without a word, not quite sure what was occupying his thoughts.
“A’Xiao, what’s the matter with you?” Ling Jingshu asked with concern.
The day had been full of bustle and restless thoughts, and she had spent the latter half of the afternoon passing time at Ling Jingxian’s quarters. She simply hadn’t had the chance to look in on Ling Xiao. Only now, at this moment, did she notice that something was off about him.
Ling Xiao forced a smile. “It’s nothing. I’m perfectly fine.”
The smile was strained and pained.
This was clearly not “nothing” — he was plainly weighed down by something.
Because of his blindness, Ling Xiao had little contact with the outside world, and his perceptions and sensitivity ran especially deep and keen.
Ling Jingshu spoke gently. “Are you still dwelling on what happened last night?”
Ling Xiao had not wanted to admit it, but he never lied to Ling Jingshu. After a long pause, he let out a low sound of acknowledgment. He had grown up entirely within the inner quarters of the household — when had he ever experienced a situation as dangerous and terrifying as last night?
Watching him like this, Ling Jingshu felt her heart clench. Unable to stop herself, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Ling Xiao’s slight, slender frame. “It’s all over now. Stop letting your thoughts run wild.”
Ling Xiao’s muffled voice rose up. “A’Shu, I’m so useless. When the bandits came, I couldn’t protect you at all. I only became a burden. I really am useless.”
When Ling Jingshu had resolutely walked away with the bandits, the anguish had been almost unbearable. And never before had he hated his own blindness and weakness so fiercely.
If only he could see — he could at least have stood in front of A’Shu. At least he wouldn’t have had to watch helplessly as A’Shu was seized and taken away. At least he could have been like Bai Yu, charging forward without a second thought, ready to live or die by A’Shu’s side.
But he could do nothing at all. He had been knocked down onto the cold, hard planks of the deck, listening to the sound of A’Shu’s footsteps growing distant, weeping in weak and helpless misery…
He really was useless.
He was nothing but a wretch.
Tears slid from the corners of Ling Xiao’s eyes and dropped onto the back of Ling Jingshu’s hand. A faint coolness.
“How could you be a burden.” Ling Jingshu’s heart twisted with bitterness and tenderness all at once. She quickly soothed him in a soft voice. “A’Xiao, in my heart, you are the finest, most outstanding young man in the world, and the gentlest, most thoughtful of little brothers.”
Ling Xiao said nothing. His shoulders trembled slightly, and intermittent, broken sobs escaped him from time to time.
Ling Jingshu exhaled softly. She said nothing more, only gently patted Ling Xiao’s back in silence.
His mood was dark and heavy. That he was willing to pour it out and cry was actually a good thing — far better than letting it fester locked up inside.
After some time — it was hard to say how long — Ling Xiao’s sobs gradually subsided.
Ling Jingshu used a handkerchief to wipe away his tears. “Do you feel a little better now?”
Ling Xiao gave a somewhat embarrassed sound of assent. He was already this old, and here he was crying and wiping his eyes… even in front of Ling Jingshu, the one closest to him in the world, he felt a flicker of shame.
“No one could have foreseen that such an accident would happen. Now everything has been resolved safely, and the matter is truly behind us — don’t think about it anymore.” Ling Jingshu murmured quietly. “Your eyes can’t see, and that brings all manner of difficulties. There is still time for you to protect me once your eyes have been healed.”
Ling Xiao gave a firm nod. “A’Shu, I want so desperately to reach the capital this very moment — to meet that Imperial Physician Wei this very moment — to beg him to heal my eyes this very moment.”
Three “this very moments” in a row made Ling Jingshu laugh.
Ling Jingshu broke into a light laugh and went along with it in the coaxing tone one uses with a child. “Yes, yes, yes — we’ll reach the capital very soon. Then we’ll go to Huichuntang and ask Imperial Physician Wei to examine you. So long as your eyes can be healed, no amount of silver is too much to spend.”
Ling Xiao protested with a hint of displeasure. “A’Shu, I’m only a few hours younger than you — we’re essentially the same age. Would you please stop coaxing me like a child?”
That temper of his — he was plainly a child who hadn’t grown up yet.
Ling Jingshu smiled serenely and continued to coax. “All right, all right, all right — it’s my fault entirely. I should have been treating you as an adult long ago. You’re already fourteen, and in another year or two you’ll be of marrying age — you’re hardly still a child.”
Ling Xiao: “…”
His pretty, fair little face turned scarlet in an instant.
Ling Jingshu couldn’t help but laugh, though a quiet, wistful ache stirred deep in her heart.
In her previous life, Ling Xiao had indeed been betrothed. But before the wedding could take place, Li Shi had made her move against him. Poor Ling Xiao — he never had the chance to marry or have children before he fell in the most beautiful years of his life.
What she had just said was half in jest, but the other half came from the very depths of her soul.
In this life, she had no intention of marrying again or bearing children. Her only wish was that Ling Xiao might live as an ordinary person — marry, have children, and grow old in happiness.
After a long pause, Ling Xiao managed to squeeze out a single sentence. “I don’t want to marry so early. Once my eyes are healed, I still want to study and pass the imperial examinations. In the future, I’ll find a good husband for you, and after you’ve married, then I’ll take a wife.”
Ling Jingshu said, half-seriously and half in jest, “I will never marry in this lifetime — you needn’t trouble yourself over me.”
Ling Xiao’s reaction was startlingly sharp. He immediately furrowed his brow. “A’Shu, are you hiding something from me?”
“Of course not.” Ling Jingshu denied it without a moment’s hesitation.
Her rebuttal had come too fast.
And in doing so, she only made it more obvious that she was concealing something.
Ling Xiao’s gaze was unfocused and without direction, yet it landed on her with uncanny precision. “A’Shu, we are siblings born of the same mother. You pity and cherish me, and you look after me in every way. My feelings for you are exactly the same. I also hope to become someone you can lean on. Perhaps there is nothing I can do for you right now, but at the very least I can share your burdens.”
“Stop treating me like a child. I’ve already grown up. Stop hiding everything from me.”
Ling Jingshu concealed her innermost thoughts with consummate skill. Even Ling Jingxian and the others who lived alongside her day and night had been kept in the dark. But how could she ever hope to conceal anything from Ling Xiao, who shared an unspoken understanding with her?
That Ling Xiao had never pressed her with questions all this time was itself a mark of his thoughtfulness and his forbearance.
Ling Jingshu looked at the face before her — so similar to her own, seven or eight parts alike — and a sudden, fierce impulse surged up within her.
To tell Ling Xiao everything.
So many people had, at one time or another, let her down, betrayed her, and wounded her. But Ling Xiao was one who would never forsake her.
Carrying the weight of those dark, heavy memories and that hatred was like a great boulder pressing upon her chest. Like a fishbone lodged in her throat, it left her unable to eat or sleep in peace, with barely a moment’s rest from worrying day and night. If there were someone who could share that burden with her, perhaps she might feel a little lighter…
The words rose to the tip of her tongue — and then changed into an indifferent brush-off. “A’Xiao, why would I hide anything from you.”
That soul-rending agony — she would carry it alone.
A flicker of disappointment crossed Ling Xiao’s face in an instant, but he pressed no further.
A’Shu was keeping a secret and would not tell him — it had to be because she feared he would worry along with her. He had to grow up and grow stronger as quickly as he could, so that he might truly become someone A’Shu could rely on.