In the stone chamber where wall lamps connected in a line, the faint clinking of chains could be heard.
In a brightly lit corner, a hunched man carried a bucket of water and splashed it awake the “prey” tied up on the rack.
Yan Zhuyu, now awake, had her eyes stung by the flickering firelight. She turned her head aside, a string of water droplets dripping from her cheek.
As her consciousness gradually returned, she looked terrified at the hunched man before her.
“It’s you…”
Manager Xie.
Yan Zhuyu’s heart raced with fear. Could it be that her previous demand for payment had made him hold a grudge?
His thirst for revenge was too intense.
The hunched man saw through her concerns, snorted with a laugh, and shuffled over to the furnace with his back hunched, lighting the charcoal fire.
He heated up a branding iron.
Yan Zhuyu trembled uncontrollably. “Who are you?”
How could a prominent merchant harbor such a fierce grudge?
“Good question.”
Manager Xie nodded his chin toward a youth in the shadowy corner. “Yan Yi, you answer her.”
“Bastard.”
“…You brat.”
The knife-carrying youth stepped into the firelight, a swallow tattoo on the scar across his cheekbone.
The youth chewed on a wolf-tail grass, exuding a wild arrogance. “Why waste words on her? Bring the branding iron.”
“What do you want to do? I’m just a fragile woman. What grudge do you have against me?”
The chains on the wooden rack clinked as Yan Zhuyu struggled futilely against her bonds. Her weary, disheveled face was full of terror.
Yan Yi rolled his eyes. “Let me make it clear first: we don’t know how to be tender towards women. When the young master arrives later, you just need to answer yes or no. Swallow any extra words.”
“You…”
Yan Yi grinned sinisterly. “Didn’t hear that?”
Yan Zhuyu dared not say more, swallowing her doubts and fears together.
After some unknown time, one wall of the stone chamber suddenly rotated. A man in an ink-blue rhombus-patterned gold satin cloak slowly entered, his hood covering most of his face, leaving only the outline of his chin visible.
Elegant and fluid.
Yan Yi, who had been lounging casually, immediately straightened up and bowed respectfully. “Young master.”
The man passed Yan Yi. A pair of plain satin boots faintly visible under the swaying cloak. He approached Yan Zhuyu, raised his right hand, and let fall an obituary notice.
Issued by the Yangzhou Yamen.
Eastern Palace Liangdi hangs herself.
Yan Zhuyu no longer existed in the world.
At this moment, Yan Zhuyu could no longer suppress her bitterness, and tears burst from her eyes.
All her dreams had been but an illusion, and now she was denied even the chance to start anew.
“Who exactly are you people?”
Yan Yi seized her cheek, his finger bones cracking audibly. “I said, swallow the extra words. You just need to answer: when we reach the Capital City, do you want the truth from three years ago made public?”
“!!!”
Yan Zhuyu had a guess in her heart. They were connected to Jiang Yinyue—likely people from the Jiang Clan! The Jiang Clan was seeking justice for their young lady!
“Say it! Yes or no?” Yan Yi clearly had no patience and increased his grip, pinching Yan Zhuyu’s face until it twisted in pain.
Yan Zhuyu, stripped of her support, had her vision blur. “Even if you beat me to death, I won’t say… Ah!!”
Yan Yi expressionlessly dislocated her jaw, making Manager Xie frown.
He didn’t know his own strength.
Yan Yi turned to face the man who had brought the obituary. “Young master, rest assured. She’ll crack.”
The man said nothing and turned to leave. Under the cloak lifted by the wind, a Roaming Scale Jade Pendant at his waist wriggled vividly.
Manager Xie saw the man off and returned to the stone chamber. He reset Yan Zhuyu’s jaw and grinned. “You’ll give in sooner or later. Don’t hold out. Hungry? What do you want to eat? Just say it.”
Yan Zhuyu, nearly fainting, glared at them. One playing good cop, the other bad cop?
Before the hour of Yin had passed, rooster crows sounded incessantly. Jiang Yinyue covered her ears and rolled over, tumbling into a firm, warm chest.
The quilt on her body had somehow fallen to her feet.
She snuggled toward the source of warmth, and a faint rustling sound of tucking in the quilt came from beside her ear.
“Mm…?”
The woman, disturbed from her sleep, struggled to open her eyes. What she saw was snow-white sleeping robes emanating a saponaria fragrance.
At the overlapping collar of the sleeping robes was a patch of flesh-colored… neck.
The young lady, realizing she had crossed the line, snapped awake and tried to roll back to the inner side of the canopy bed. But she discovered she was under the same quilt as Wei Qin.
Like silkworms spinning a cocoon, it wrapped her tightly.
From the chest beneath the snow-white sleeping robes came the strong, steady thump of a heartbeat.
Jiang Yinyue looked up, her view blocked by Wei Qin’s jawline.
But she could sense that Wei Qin showed no signs of waking.
So how had she ended up here?
Jiang Yinyue shifted backward, trying to wriggle out from under the quilt, but the man, turning over in his sleep, pinned half her body down.
In terms of build, Jiang Yinyue was tall among women, but beside Wei Qin, she seemed petite and delicate—especially compared to his broad shoulders.
Pinned breathless, Jiang Yinyue pushed at the man holding her down, but her strength was feeble, like a gnat shaking a tree.
“Wei Qin.”
“Mm…”
“You’re pinning me down.”
Wei Qin rolled to face inward, pulling the woman—who was trying to flee swiftly—into his arms and locking her with one arm. He buried his face in her silky long hair, rubbed his nose tip, found a comfortable position, and murmured, “Sleep a bit more.”
Thoroughly confined, Jiang Yinyue twisted and turned, nearly unable to breathe.
This intimate embrace made her panic.
But as she twisted, Wei Qin wrapped his other arm around her waist, rendering her immobile.
“Wei Qin, you’re awake.”
The sleeping Wei Qin felt a pain in his abdomen—the woman in his arms had twisted his flesh with all her might.
Yet he didn’t cry out in pain, not even a hiss.
The man’s abdomen was firm and taut; her twist found no flab. Jiang Yinyue’s fingers ached. She released him, blew on her fingers, and made to turn her body.
“Don’t move.”
“You say don’t move, so I won’t?”
The eldest Jiang miss thrashed fiercely, her little face flushing red.
The newly installed water clock in the home pointed to the hour of Yin. The big rooster next door jumped onto the roof and crowed proudly, prompting a neigh from the little stubborn one in the Wei Family stables.
Jiang Yinyue sat up, arms crossed, staring at Wei Qin, who showed no intention of rising.
Yan Hongchang’s case was unresolved; they still needed to follow the vine to the melon and root out the other officials involved.
The road ahead was long.
“Lord Wei should get up.”
If he hadn’t used her as a pillow to knead, the eldest Jiang miss would never have disturbed her pillow companion’s rest so tactlessly.
This man hadn’t been asleep at all.
Wei Qin pillowed his head on one arm, eyes closed in silence, letting his wife straddle over his waist, slip on her shoes, and go to wash up.
At the second quarter of Chen hour, with gentle winds and faint clouds, Jiang Yinyue arrived at the stables and smiled at the eager little horse, Lightning Chaser.
Without Yan Zhuyu as an obstacle, she could finally take it out for a ride.
The poor little thing had been cooped up too long.
“Sorry to wrong you.”
Her rouge-purple skirt traced a crescent arc in the air as the woman mounted, cracked the whip, and galloped off with Lightning Chaser, ignoring the varied gazes of the neighbors.
“The Wei family’s grandson’s wife is so flamboyant.”
“Who says otherwise.”
“But she really brings prosperity to her husband. Wei Qin earned great merit this time; his future is bright.”
“Can’t compare, can’t compare.”
The neighbors dispersed, leaving behind words of envy, jealousy, admiration, or respect.
Wei Ying pushed open the back door and gazed enviously at her sister-in-law’s figure. If only she had a sturdy body, she could learn horsemanship like her sister-in-law.
“Miss, drink your medicine first. You have a follow-up today.”
While others started the day with big fish and meat or simple porridge, she ate herbal decoctions like meals. The fifteen-year-old girl frowned until the return of the vibrant Jiang Yinyue.
“Sister-in-law.”
“Ying’er, why did you come out?”
“Is sister-in-law busy today?”
Jiang Yinyue shook her head. “Something wrong?”
Seeing Jiang Yinyue, Wei Ying couldn’t help but beam. She took Jiang Yinyue’s hand and shook it lightly, clearly with a request.
In the morning, the sky was clear and boundless, blue as if washed. Wei Ying, in a water-blue long skirt, pulled Jiang Yinyue to the street, stood on high ground, and overlooked the bustling market. Her gaze fixed on a painter setting up his stall.
“There.”
Wei Ying led Jiang Yinyue to the painter. “Sister-in-law, it was him who helped me to the clinic that day.”
Though men and women shouldn’t touch casually, Wei Ying understood urgency over propriety. The grateful girl didn’t want to repeat hiding behind her sister-in-law, lacking courage to thank her benefactor. This time, carrying two bags of thank-you gifts, she walked ahead of Jiang Yinyue.
Jiang Yinyue eyed the painter’s back, narrowing her almond eyes. As he turned at the sound, she lifted a hand to shield her eyes.
It was that jianghu swindler.
Terrible painting skills.
He had painted the sleek-furred Qi Bao as a sloppy fat dog.
Jiang Yinyue stopped and listened to her little sister-in-law’s conversation with the painter.
The Silver-Robed Painter looked surprised at Wei Ying before him and chuckled. “Just a small favor. No need to keep it in mind.”
“You helped me.”
“Oh.”
Sensing his lack of enthusiasm, Wei Ying set down the gifts and nervously clutched her skirt hem. She rarely interacted with outsiders and wasn’t good at flattery, often letting conversations die, but she didn’t want to hide behind her sister-in-law like a turtle. Mustering courage, she pressed on. “Have you opened for business today?”
“Not yet. Business is slow.”
The Silver-Robed Painter arranged his stall, cupped his hands in sleeves, and smiled with raised brows. “What, want to patronize my business?”
“Mm!”
“Come, come.”
His demeanor shifted from aloof to warm. He fetched a stool, brushed off the dust with his wide sleeve, and—thinking the girl frail and prone to chills—removed his outer robe, folding it on the stool. “Please sit.”
Wei Ying sat, smoothed the hair by her ears, revealing a pair of pearly white earlobes, and sat obediently, letting the painter study her.
The painter held his brush, sketched her outline in the air, then dipped the tip in ink and painted with swift, lively strokes. Jiang Yinyue pressed her forehead watching.
She sidled closer quietly and peered at the paper. Unexpectedly, her gaze froze.
His brushwork was fluid and masterful.
Jiang Yinyue felt unbalanced. What was that sloppy fat dog from last time?
After a quarter-hour, the painter set down his brush, admired his work earnestly, nodded in satisfaction, and beckoned Wei Ying over.
Wei Ying exclaimed, “Masterful brushwork.”
The praise slipped out.
The painter chuckled, his voice clear and pleasant.
Jiang Yinyue poked the blank spot on the paper. “Add a seal.”
Who knew, one day this painter might rise to fame, and his works become collectibles.
Wei Ying nodded expectantly.
The painter smiled in agreement and stamped his seal.
Xie.
Jiang Yinyue puzzled, “Just the surname?”
“The seal is personally carved by me; the script is the feature. No need for a full name.”
“I’m a vulgar person. May I ask your esteemed name?”
“A rustic nobody, nameless.”
Wei Ying tugged Jiang Yinyue’s sleeve and offered an ingot of silver.
The painter surprised, “Patronizing business doesn’t require this much.”
“A small token.”
With that, the girl rolled up the painting, pulled Jiang Yinyue away, afraid he’d refuse.
Jiang Yinyue couldn’t help but smile. Her little sister-in-law was too earnest.
The painter weighed the silver ingot and smiled wryly.
Back at the Wei Residence, Jiang Yinyue received a letter from the Capital City forwarded by her mother-in-law.
Recognizing the familiar handwriting, Jiang Yinyue smiled before even opening it, her almond eyes curving with joy.
She carried the letter to the East Wing Room, sat at the desk, carefully opened the envelope, and giggled at the familiar tone.
Jiang Song rambled on about family matters, most concerned about her relationship with Wei Qin.
“Cherish the one before you; don’t bully your good son-in-law.”
Jiang Yinyue pursed her lips, put her father’s letter in the box, then took out plain paper and penned a reply.
When Wei Qin returned, she had already written three thousand characters.
“Bangyan Scholar, want to praise your good father-in-law?”
Wei Qin came behind her, bent down to read the letter, then grasped her hand holding the brush. The pen danced vividly, words elegant as carved dragons.
An ordinary family letter became remarkably polished.
The man’s temperature, unusual for an ordinary person, mingled with the warmth of the woman’s slender hand.
Jiang Yinyue’s mind went blank. Like a puppet, she was controlled in her writing, her full attention on Wei Qin’s cool hand.
The narrow, slender hand had distinct joints. Prominent veins bulged beneath the thin skin on the back, rising and falling with the force of his strokes—like jade wrought by heaven’s own craft or rock chiseled by knife and axe, brimming with beauty.
Jiang Yinyue turned her clear eyes and sneaked a glance at Wei Qin.
Candlelight cast a halo over his peerless profile. Crow-feather black lashes projected a fan-shaped shadow beneath his eyes.
“What are you looking at?”
Wei Qin spoke suddenly and turned his head toward her. His sharp Adam’s apple rolled with his words as his jaw pressed against Jiang Yinyue’s ear.
The two were extremely close—no space left between them.
Jiang Yinyue sprawled on the table and buried her burning face. She did not dare answer his question. “Continue writing. The messenger is still waiting in Grandfather’s room.”
“Good.” Wei Qin inadvertently glimpsed her exposed nape—a stretch of warm white, delicate skin.
He kept hold of the woman’s hand and continued writing. His strokes flowed with elegant vigor. The kiss he planted on her nape was as light as a water droplet, infused with tenderness.
Jiang Yinyue lay on her own arms. Her beautiful eyes quivered.