What did being from a clean and decent family have to do with anything?

Shiyiniang fumed inwardly, feeling a small and unmistakable gloom settle over her, and could not help murmuring: *”Gazing every day at her sad reflection in the mirror — she regrets urging her husband to seek glory in the battlefield.”*

If Luo Zhensheng had never passed the imperial examinations, then knowing his character, whether the First Madam were alive or not, he likely would never have taken a concubine.

Her voice was low, but Xu Lingyi, who was attending closely to her, heard it clearly.

He was somewhat surprised.

He recalled the words she had spoken to encourage him shortly after she first came into the household, and that time she had been found in tears upon overhearing the private conversation between Zhu Anping and Seventh Young Lady. A faint and quiet smile touched the corners of his lips.

Shiyiniang seemed to have a particular longing for couples who could remain faithfully by each other’s side — she had even been quite glad when he had stepped down from his official post to remain at home.

Turning the thought over, he raised his eyes to study his wife carefully.

She had lowered her head and was tidying the things in the rattan basket. Her fingers were slender and delicate, her nails trimmed neatly and evenly. She folded the socks with care, arranged the needles and thread one by one with unhurried precision, her movements graceful and composed, her expression calm and gentle. He suddenly remembered his childhood — waking in the middle of the night, and his wet nurse sitting at the edge of the bed, just like this, quietly and unhurriedly handling her needlework, smiling gently, handing him warm tea, patting him back to sleep. And when he opened his eyes again, she was still sitting there, holding his warmed clothes, smiling as she waited for him to rise… Days that were quiet, yet so deeply settled and secure… exactly as he felt at this moment.

He had not felt this way in a very long time.

Xu Lingyi reached out and took Shiyiniang’s hand.

Meeting the questioning look she turned toward him, he was at a loss for words. A great many things welled up all at once, and he was not quite sure which to say first.

But Shiyiniang smiled and said: “The Marquis need not worry. First thing tomorrow morning, this concubine will have the gift ready for the new Yiniang to be sent with Elder Brother.”

What cannot be changed, once complained about, must be set aside and let go — lest it fester and rot within. Besides, one person’s poison is another’s honey.

Xu Lingyi nodded, then seemed about to say something more but stopped himself.

Was there something else she did not yet know?

Shiyiniang wanted to ask him plainly, but Xu Sijie, who had been bent diligently over his calligraphy, raised his head just then: “Father, Mother — I have finished!” He then lifted the sheet of paper for Xu Lingyi and Shiyiniang to see.

Both of them broke into smiles without even exchanging a glance, and Xu Lingyi even gave Xu Sijie a few words of praise: “Nicely done. If you devote a little more time to it, you will write even better!”

Xu Sijie looked over at Shiyiniang, smiling like a sunflower in the full heat of summer.

Nan Yong’s wife came forward and took the child. “The Marquis and Madam should also rest early!”

Shiyiniang nodded. After Xu Sijie had made his bow, she sent Qiuyu to see them out.

Xu Lingyi carried Jin Ge’er to the warm inner room to settle him down for the night, and then went to wash up and retire.

In the middle of the night, Shiyiniang felt her breath grow somewhat difficult. She stirred drowsily awake to find his hand gently exploring within her body.

Opening her eyes, she discovered she was clasped tightly in Xu Lingyi’s arms, her face pressed against his chest.

No wonder she had felt she could not breathe.

“My lord!” she said, shifting slightly with some discomfort, as a soft, tingling warmth rose through her body.

Shiyiniang let out a low murmur, closed her eyes, and wound her arms around Xu Lingyi’s neck, yielding to him entirely.

But Xu Lingyi would not let her bury her face in his chest. He cupped her face in his hands and studied her closely.

Her health was poor, and she had almost no demands of her own when it came to such matters between husband and wife.

Xu Lingyi always watched the expression on her face.

If there was fatigue in her brow, he would usually stop at once, letting his own body gradually settle. If her face was merely flushed, he would continue to caress her slowly and gently, until she was roused by that warm and languorous atmosphere, unable to help herself as she melted into his embrace… turning their union into a feast of pleasure…

This time, however, Shiyiniang buried herself in Xu Lingyi’s arms and refused to raise her head.

“What is the matter?” Xu Lingyi could only press his lips to her temple and coax her softly.

The way Xu Lingyi had reacted to Luo Zhensheng taking a concubine had stirred something quietly within Shiyiniang’s heart.

She had long understood that it was in a person’s nature to be what they were, and that nature was near impossible to change. Particularly between men and women — when one tried, in the name of love, to make the other yield and compromise, most would end in failure. Let alone with Xu Lingyi, shaped by the education of a feudal scholar-gentleman. To try to persuade him to act against everything he had been taught would be nothing short of a fool’s dream. She also understood that when feeling overwhelms reason, a person can give way endlessly — yielding, conceding, even to the point of humbling themselves. Otherwise, how would so many people, upon meeting the one who moved their heart, find every condition they had once set suddenly meaningless?

It was only ever a question of how deeply you felt for this person.

Shiyiniang wanted to try to hold onto the man before her.

With tenderness and forbearance. Just as he, when she was ill, had set aside the proper distance between a man and a woman and allowed Physician Liu to administer acupuncture for her; just as, at the life-and-death moment of Jin Ge’er’s birth, he had set aside his duty to the family line and told the midwife to save her life first…

Thinking of these things, her nose grew a little sore.

She pressed her head deeper into his chest.

Shiyiniang did not want him to go on reading her face before acting.

“You… always bully me!” she said, pressing herself tightly against him.

Xu Lingyi liked Shiyiniang’s levelheadedness when faced with difficult matters, the wit in her words, her refusal to simply comply with everything, and yet her avoidance of combative argument — even the small and clever schemes she played before him when she was set on her own course, schemes that carried a sly and knowing charm. In his idle hours he delighted in being around her, delighted in watching the way she sulked, or blushed, or was driven to exasperation before him.

He could not help laughing softly at her words and asked: “How have I bullied you? You must not wrong me.” But his hand had already found the pearl hidden within her flowing creek and was gently rolling it between his fingers.

In ordinary times, Shiyiniang would have pushed at him coquettishly, half frantic and half furious, calling out “Xu Lingyi!” in indignation. But this time, she gave a soft and breathless moan, her body arching taut — and then, with quickened breathing, pressed her lips to the sprig of cornelian cherry embroidered on his chest.

Her gentle lips, soft and warm against his burning skin — it was as though oil had been poured onto a flame. His body ignited with a sudden blaze.

His hand passed through the dark hair spilling like clouds across the crimson bolster pillow, cradling the back of her head.

Her face, flushed as though stained with rosy clouds, tilted upward, eyelids closed, long lashes trembling faintly.

“Moyan!” He pressed his forehead against hers.

Shiyiniang said nothing — only her face grew redder still. She parted herself open and, of her own accord, received his fullness within her…

Xu Lingyi drew a sharp breath, his rhythm gentle yet growing urgent…

The sky had barely begun to lighten when Xu Lingyi awoke.

Shiyiniang lay bare in his arms, her skin beneath his hands as fine and smooth as congealed cream. He could not help stroking her softly for a moment.

Sensing movement, she stirred her eyelids faintly — but in the end her eyes did not open. She murmured drowsily, calling out “Xu Lingyi.”

The sound was thin and small, like the first mew of a newborn kitten.

The same pitch as the helpless moaning beneath him.

The corner of Xu Lingyi’s mouth curved into a satisfied arc. He responded softly in her ear.

Shiyiniang shifted and nestled closer into his arms, falling back into sound sleep.

Xu Lingyi sat up and leaned against the headboard, his hand drifting idly through her hair where it spilled like clouds across the crimson bolster pillow patterned with koi and chrysanthemums.

Even through all of that, Shiyiniang did not wake.

Xu Lingyi bent down and pressed a kiss to her brow.

Every time Shiyiniang was utterly exhausted, or was startled suddenly awake, she would always call his name — and upon hearing his response, she would sink back into deep sleep. It was as though, so long as he was there, she could rest easy and entrust everything around her to him.

Thinking on this, Xu Lingyi found himself gazing at her peaceful sleeping face in quiet reverie.

It had been this way for a very long time, it seemed. Thinking carefully back… even from the very beginning of their marriage, though she had been unwell, she had never been afraid of him. Even if afraid, it was only of what he might do to her — not of him, the person…

His thoughts shifted, and he gave a small, quiet start.

Shiyiniang was not the kind of woman who simply complied with everything — yet she had never once doubted him. To think, their very first meeting had been in that small courtyard, when he was caught in a compromising situation by Yuanniang…

In her eyes, what kind of man was he?

Xu Lingyi’s hand moved tenderly over her face.

Her sleep disturbed, Shiyiniang’s fine brows drew together slightly, and she turned her face to one side.

Xu Lingyi stilled his hand.

Shiyiniang’s dark brows slowly eased open, and a smile as soft and sweet as spring blossoms bloomed at the corner of her lips.

Xu Lingyi did not know that he himself had begun to smile as well.

He was very fond of Shiyiniang last night.

All at once, she had drawn closer to him with a warmth and trust she had not shown before. No matter what he did or how he did it, she only trembled through it all and bore it… unlike before, when she always had to make sense of things first before she would allow him to do as he pleased.

The thought came and went, and he tucked the quilt more snugly around her — though it was already tucked in tightly on all sides.

His gaze fell without thinking onto the purplish-red mark he had left on her collarbone.

Last night’s pleasure, vivid and unbridled, began to revolve through his mind without warning, like lanterns spinning on a festival night.

His throat ran dry. He swallowed, and his hand began to travel along the graceful lines of her body. His mind meanwhile turned to the few hidden volumes of erotic prints kept somewhere in the house… he couldn’t quite remember where they were stored now… there were a few illustrations that had set his blood racing when he’d seen them as a boy… perhaps he could take them out to try with Shiyiniang… he wasn’t sure whether she’d give him a kick and send him off the bed… and if the maids outside heard the commotion, they would probably come in to keep up appearances and drag him back onto the bed…

The image of Shiyiniang — furious, helpless, her powdered face carrying a trace of reproach — floated into his mind.

He could not help but laugh aloud. His resolve deepened.

“Moyan, Moyan!” He simply called to her, right in her ear.

Shiyiniang, roused from sleep, gave a drowsy sound, and by the time she did, Xu Lingyi had already entered her.

The swollen sensation made her murmur softly, and it was a long moment before her furrowed brow eased open.

Her mind was somewhat hazy.

Was this the third time, or the fourth…

When Xu Sizhun came to pay his respects to his mother that morning, he sensed something unusual in the atmosphere of the room.

Though his father and mother both wore smiles, his mother’s smile appeared slightly stiff — unlike his father’s, which reached all the way to the corners of his eyes and brows, as gentle and warm as the spring light of March.

Xu Sijie tugged at Xu Sizhun’s sleeve.

Xu Sizhun was quick-witted enough to ask nothing at all. He answered his father’s words, and then left together with Xu Sijie.

“Mother is ill!” Xu Sijie told Xu Sizhun at once. “This morning when I went to greet her, she still hadn’t gotten up.”

Xu Sizhun was alarmed. “Is it serious? Has a physician been sent for?”

Xu Sijie was somewhat troubled. “Nanny Song said there was no need for a physician, that she just needs to rest for half a day.” Then he added, “How can someone who is ill not call for a physician?”

Xu Sizhun thought it over for a long while, then said: “How about we tell Grandmother after our lessons? If Mother feels awkward about calling for a physician herself, once Grandmother says it’s all right, there’ll be nothing to feel awkward about.”

Xu Sijie brightened. “Yes! Let’s go tell Grandmother!”

—