Looking down from Lingqiong Villa, the view spread out on both sides. To the left sat the dainty Half-Moon Pond, with the Chunyan Pavilion encircling it like stars around a crescent moon. Not far from the Chunyan Pavilion stood the graceful and elegant Lijing Pavilion. Following the line of Lijing Pavilion, one’s gaze arrived at the water-pavilion Cuilun, ringed by green rippling water. To the left, Jufang Pavilion and the Biyi Lock Pavilion gazed across at each other through a stand of towering ancient trees. Nestled in the greenery, Liufang Cottage was free-spirited and expressive, Yixiang Courtyard was rustic and natural, and Zhaozhuan Hall was resplendent and magnificent — three distinct presences, each with its own particular charm.

The gentle breeze of the second month swept through, and the leaves of every tree in the rear garden swayed and rustled in unison with the wind, a soft sound tender as the quiet humming of a singer — enough to make one lose oneself entirely.

“My lord!” Shiyiniang looked toward Xu Lingyi, who stood not far away with his hands clasped behind his back before the wisteria-latticed window, her voice carrying a note of hesitation. “You should put on a cloak.”

Xu Lingyi said nothing.

He wore a stone-blue robe patterned with sacred lotus blossoms in carved silk brocade. His posture was as erect as a white poplar standing on the northern plains, his handsome face drawn so taut that deep lines had formed beside his cleanly sculpted lips.

Shiyiniang considered for a moment, then took the cloak from the young maid’s hands and draped it over his shoulders herself.

“My lord, you have been standing here all afternoon,” she said softly, fastening the cloak for him. “I have had someone warm a pot of wine. Do have a little at least, to take the chill off.”

Xu Lingyi’s gaze shifted slightly.

Shiyiniang tilted the corners of her mouth and offered him a gentle, deliberate smile with a small nod.

The rigid set of Xu Lingyi’s expression eased, just a little.

Shiyiniang smiled and guided him to the meditation chair nearby, which was laid with a sapphire-blue cushion embroidered with cloud dragons and longevity symbols, and settled him into it.

Only then did Xu Lingyi notice that the interior of the villa hall had been entirely rearranged.

The large round black-lacquered table that had stood in the center was gone. In its place was a small black-lacquered half-moon table bearing a nine-compartment set box with red-lacquered camellia carvings, neatly arranged with side dishes — crystal braised pork, wine-marinated green shrimp, smoked chicken wings, wind-dried duck breast, and more. Beside them, white-glazed blue-patterned tall-footed porcelain plates held bright red apples, gleaming golden oranges, golden-yellow pears, and deep purple grapes…

Xu Lingyi looked on with visible surprise.

Shiyiniang smiled and lifted a blue-patterned white wine cup. “My lord, please see if the wine has been warmed to your liking.”

Xu Lingyi took it with some hesitation and brought it to his lips for a small taste.

Rich, smooth, and lingering — a superior Jinhua wine.

He drained it in one.

Shiyiniang wrapped a pair of dark-wood chopsticks in a white silk handkerchief and offered them to him.

Xu Lingyi took the chopsticks and held them in hand, then nudged the wine cup toward her.

Shiyiniang poured.

Xu Lingyi drained it again in one.

Following Shiyiniang’s instructions, Hupo and the others quietly drew the wisteria-latticed windows on either side closed, leaving only the two center panels open. When Xu Lingyi raised his head, he could look out over the scenery of the Xu family’s rear garden.

The brocade-like colored clouds gradually dissolved into the gathering dusk.

Linbo moved with quiet, careful steps to light the five-string large red palace lanterns in the corner of the room.

The room was bathed in a layer of festive red, which softened something of Xu Lingyi’s cold severity.

“My lord!” Shiyiniang poured him another cup and brought up the matter of Qiao Lianfang. “I asked Embroidered Eave, who attends Qiao Yiniang, in detail…”

“Shiyiniang,” Xu Lingyi waved a hand at her, signaling her not to continue. “If the child is simply gone, who could possibly understand why better than Qiao Lianfang herself? You can lead a cow to water, but you cannot make it drink.” His gaze was clear, his voice steady — nothing at all like a man who had already drunk two large jars of Jinhua wine. “Come — you have been put through enough these past days. Sit down and have a drink with me.”

“I am not much of a drinker,” Shiyiniang said, her voice gentle. “You should stop as well, my lord.” She placed a small bowl of osmanthus glutinous rice ball soup before Xu Lingyi. “Let me share a sweet soup with you instead.”

Xu Lingyi laughed. “You think I’m drunk!” He then walked steadily to the window and, looking out at the scene before him, drained the cup in his hand. He then turned to look back at Shiyiniang, as if to say: “You see — nothing wrong with me.”

The more drunk a man, the more he insists he is sober.

“Your capacity for drink is formidable, my lord. I never thought you were drunk,” Shiyiniang said, a flicker of worry crossing her eyes even as her voice remained soft and tranquil. “I was simply growing weary of pouring.”

Xu Lingyi burst out laughing and strode to the half-moon table, wrapping his arms around Shiyiniang all at once.

The sudden movement drew a low startled gasp from Shiyiniang. She pressed her hands against his chest and instinctively leaned back.

Her face, pale as white jade, with its refined and delicate features, lay fully exposed before his gaze.

His laughter slowly faded. Slender fingers traced across brows like distant mountains, a nose high-bridged and graceful, and came to rest at the corner of rosy lips, while his gaze, too, grew slowly warmer.

“You are truly a flower that understands the heart.”

The well-defined lips in her line of sight drew gradually, imperceptibly closer.

Shiyiniang lowered her head.

The lips fell softly against her forehead.

“Moyan…” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then to her cheek, then to the curve of her neck, and buried his face in her hair.

In the silent room, the soft sound of rustling fabric filled the air.

From the corner of her eye she watched as the maids and manservants standing nearby, one after another, bowed their heads and filed out without a sound.

There were many ways to heal a wound.

But offering oneself as the remedy was not among them.

Shiyiniang stood quietly in his embrace, waiting for the right moment.

The face pressed against the back of her neck grew warmer and warmer; the arms around her waist pulled her ever tighter… and yet that was all — nothing more followed.

Just as she felt her breath beginning to constrict, his low voice drifted to her ears in broken fragments: “Moyan… I have never believed I wronged anyone…” The tone was suppressed and troubled. “Then why would…”

Why?

Because life is not arithmetic — there is no formula, no fixed standard, no single correct answer.

The question was too vast. Shiyiniang had no answer to give.

She gazed, slightly dazed, at the scattering of stars beyond the window, and her hand, without quite realizing it, curved gently around his waist.

Then, like something from a dream, his voice reached her ear: “…No… I owe… I owe it to Biyu…”

Shiyiniang was stunned.

Biyu? Concubine Tong Biyu?

…

That night the wind was strong, rattling and pounding against the windows of Lingqiong Villa. The hall, lit by the red lanterns, was warm and hushed — a corner of the world apart, somewhere a person could finally breathe. The two of them sat across from each other at the half-moon table, one slowly drinking, the other slowly pouring. The one who was drinking grew more and more wakeful with every cup, while the one who was pouring finally succumbed to drowsiness and slipped into sleep, head resting on the table.

Her last impression was of curling up in a warm embrace…

When Shiyiniang opened her eyes again, she was already in her own bed.

The gauze canopy hung half-drawn. The right side of the bed was empty.

She sat up.

The canopy curtain was immediately lifted aside.

“Madam, you’re awake!”

Hupo’s smiling face appeared before her.

Shiyiniang was still half in a fog for a moment.

“Where is the Marquis?”

Hupo helped Shiyiniang into the silk quilted jacket that had been warming over the brazier. “The Marquis carried Madam back and then went to the rear garden. He practiced swordplay for a while. He has only just returned — Xiayi is attending to his bath and grooming right now.”

Shiyiniang nodded, then lowered her voice to ask after Qiao Lianfang. “…Is she still insisting that it was Qin Yiniang who harmed her?”

“No longer!” Hupo crouched down to help Shiyiniang with her shoes. “Ever since Madam reprimanded her and told her that any accusation must be backed by proof, Qiao Yiniang has not mentioned ‘Qin Yiniang harmed me’ again.” She paused in her movements. “However, Qin Yiniang seems to be terrified that Qiao Yiniang will say such a thing. From yesterday afternoon onward she has been waiting for you to return, and kept explaining to everyone — saying that since Qiao Yiniang was confined to her quarters, she has never once seen Qiao Yiniang, let alone visited her there… She waited until the gates were locked last night, and came back again before dawn this morning.”

“Did she cross paths with the Marquis?” Shiyiniang extended both arms as Hupo helped fasten her skirt.

“She did,” Hupo said quietly. “He gave her a scolding.”

“He scolded her?” Shiyiniang pondered. “What exactly did he say?”

Hupo lowered her voice. “The Marquis told her to stop jumping at shadows and creating trouble for Madam. Then he paid her no further attention and went straight to the garden.”

Shiyiniang fell into thought, sitting on the embroidered stool beside the dressing table.

Hupo, thinking of how Xu Lingyi had accused Qin Yiniang of “jumping at shadows” — the whole manner of someone who did not believe Qin Yiniang was capable of tormenting Qiao Yiniang — felt a surge of worry. “Madam, are you afraid the Marquis will show favoritism toward Qin Yiniang…”

“No, no, no.” Shiyiniang shook her head gently. “I was thinking about something else. The Marquis is generally quite even-tempered with people. But with Qin Yiniang… come to think of it, Qin Yiniang is even the birth mother of the Second Young Master, yet he treats her as if he can scold her whenever he likes and dismiss her whenever he sees fit…”

Hupo said with a smile, “Qin Yiniang was originally a maidservant in the Marquis’s personal service. Naturally she is treated differently from others…” Her voice trailed off and her expression faltered.

Shiyiniang looked at her, smiling.

Hupo fell silent.

“Invite Qin Yiniang in, please.” Shiyiniang smiled, and the composed serenity she usually carried returned to her expression. “The Marquis has a point. The matter of Qiao Yiniang’s miscarriage has not yet been fully clarified, and this business of her jumping at shadows is indeed unseemly.”

Hupo acknowledged the instruction and brought Qin Yiniang in.

Qin Yiniang looked hollow-eyed and utterly worn, as though she had aged five years overnight. The moment she saw Shiyiniang she fell to her knees before her, eyes reddening as tears spilled over. “Madam, I truly did not harm Qiao Yiniang. If you do not believe me, you may ask those around me, or ask the nannies in the courtyard…”

“Everything requires evidence,” Shiyiniang said, letting Hupo help her to her feet. “Qin Yiniang need not worry.”

Qin Yiniang rose in tears. “As long as Madam believes me — I truly did not harm Qiao Yiniang!”

She went over the same words again and again, and Shiyiniang nodded at intervals.

Fortunately, Wen Yiniang arrived shortly after.

“Goodness, Sister Qin, you’re here early!” She gave Shiyiniang a cheerful bow, the rich gold and lapis lazuli earrings at her ears swinging in a graceful arc as she moved.

Qin Yiniang forced a smile and returned Wen Yiniang’s greeting.

“What beautiful weather today!” Wen Yiniang made easy conversation with everyone. “Around this time last year the sun had also been out for several days in a row, and then rain set in by the end of the month. I wonder if this year will be different — the Second Young Miss is due for her full-month celebration at the end of the month, isn’t she?” Then she added, “I heard the Fifth Master has chosen a name for the Second Young Miss — ‘Sixin.’ Has it been confirmed?” She addressed Shiyiniang but didn’t wait for a reply before continuing on of her own accord. “I think the name is lovely. ‘Xin’ — ‘the fragrance begins to rise, the Emperor Above comes to receive it.’ What a wonderful name…”

She rambled pleasantly on, and not a single word was said about Qiao Lianfang’s miscarriage.

—