Chapter Nine

The long night stretched endlessly. The room was clearly dark, yet strangely, everything seemed sharper, more vivid.

He’s coming back?

He had been away for over two years, and now he was returning.

Over these past two years, she had heard the name Ji Jianyun more times than she could count.

He was leading troops on the frontier, a great general. With many victories under his belt, praise for him was widespread. Compared to the political maneuvers of the civil officials at court, the straightforward victories of a military man on the border were far more tangible. Many spoke highly of him, and naturally, Song Xingyue had heard much of his exploits.

Yet at this moment, hearing those three words from Xie Linxu’s mouth, they sounded eerie, almost unsettling.

Xie Linxu noticed her unusual demeanor and let out a laugh tinged with ambiguity. “So happy?”

Song Xingyue caught the implication behind his words, as if he had learned something.

Their past with Ji Jianyun was known to very few.

He shouldn’t have known.

She forced a smile. “If General Ji returns, so be it. What does that have to do with me? Why would I be happy?”

Seeing her feign ignorance, Xie Linxu said no more.

Though she claimed Ji Jianyun’s return was irrelevant to her, her thoughts had already wandered far away, silent and absorbed.

Noticing her distraction, Xie Linxu lost interest, quickly finishing his tasks before excusing himself.

After summoning water and a brief flurry of activity, the room settled into quiet again. Perhaps displeased, Xie Linxu cleaned up and retired to the study, leaving Song Xingyue alone.

Xie Linxu’s emotions were inscrutable, but Song Xingyue guessed it might be related to what he knew about her and Ji Jianyun.

How he learned it, or how much he knew, was unknown.

Thinking of Ji Jianyun, a tightness gripped her chest. Though over two years had passed, that past remained a wound, painful to recall.

That night, Song Xingyue dreamed of Ji Jianyun again.

Memories, both sweet and painful, assaulted her. In the dream, Ji Jianyun cupped her face, promising to marry her one day. “Wait for me,” he said. “Once I return from the northern border, I will come for you at once.”

Then he turned and left.

Song Xingyue tried to grasp him, but no matter how hard she reached, she couldn’t even touch the hem of his robe.

The dream shifted—a scene of Ji Jianyun gripping her shoulders tightly, accusing her of marrying another without waiting for him.

She had dreamed of Ji Jianyun many times over these two years. Each time, it was like a lizard shedding its tail, a warrior severing a limb—tears and sorrow forcibly cut off within the dream, struggling to awaken.

Upon waking, Danping found her forehead slick with sweat and gently wiped it, asking, “What’s wrong? What nightmare troubles you so?”

The previous night, after a private quarrel with the young master, he had retreated to the study instead of joining her.

Song Xingyue met Danping’s gaze, her thoughts momentarily scattered. She hesitated, then said softly, “Danping, he’s coming back.”

“Who...?”

“Ji Jianyun is returning.”

Danping quickly pressed a finger to her lips, signaling silence.

Outside stood servants holding washbasins; silk curtains could not muffle sounds. If they were overheard, it would be troublesome for the young master.

Song Xingyue forced a bitter smile. “There’s no need to hide it; Changzhou told me.”

Danping was shocked. “The young master knows about you and General Ji?”

Song Xingyue said, “If you want to keep something secret, you mustn’t do it. Once such matters happen, it’s hard to conceal. We had nearly three years together. In the capital, even if you try to avoid prying eyes, people see each other everywhere. Perhaps he accidentally witnessed something.”

Before sleeping last night, Song Xingyue had pondered this deeply. It seemed the only explanation.

Danping worried aloud, “Wouldn’t that upset the young master?”

Song Xingyue was calm. “If he’s upset, that’s been going on for two years already.”

Besides, Xie Linxu’s resentment wasn’t truly because of Ji Jianyun. Without him, he’d still find a reason.

She dared not linger in bed, fearing the hour would grow late. After washing and dressing, she sought Jingxi.

Xie Linxu had arrived before her. His expression was as usual, showing no sign of bearing a grudge over yesterday’s incident.

Just as Song Xingyue had thought, even if he knew of her past with Ji Jianyun, it was already two years behind them.

Two years in which he was at the northern border, and she had become another’s wife. What possibility could remain?

They did not stay long at Rongming Hall. Jingxi did not join them today, and unusually, no one spoke much. After breakfast, each went their separate way.

Today was the thirtieth day of the seventh lunar month, a rest day for government offices.

Xie Linxu was not on duty.

Yet after leaving Rongming Hall, Song Xingyue saw him heading out again. She instinctively asked, “Changzhou, where are you going?”

“There’s still work at the office. I have to make a trip.”

All right then...

Song Xingyue did not press further, watching his figure gradually vanish.

Though it was a rest day, Xie Linxu went to the Imperial Cabinet.

His claim of busy affairs was not an excuse—he truly had matters to attend.

This month, Emperor Jingning had ceased court sessions, neglecting governance. Petition memorials piled up in the Cabinet, awaiting review and drafting before being sent to the Qianqing Palace.

The Cabinet had five senior ministers, rotating duties. Yet the autumn examination was approaching—a once-every-three-years event. Minister Huang, also Minister of Rites, was busy with the exams, leaving shifts unfilled for days. Others had their own pressing matters.

Basic human needs aside, the Ministry of Rites’ priority was the upcoming exams. It was unwise to detain him, lest the imperial examination be delayed and blame fall on someone.

Minister Xie, Minister of Personnel, was busy with Minister of War discussing Ji Jianyun’s military rank. News of victory at the northern border had arrived recently, and the emperor had ordered the troops home. Once these meritorious soldiers returned, rewards and ranks must be assigned—a complicated affair requiring coordination between Personnel and War.

Thus, two ministers were occupied with their own departments.

With five ministers total, three were busy, leaving only two to handle a mountain of petitions.

The Chief Minister had already arranged to temporarily transfer Xie Linxu from the Hanlin Academy to assist in the Cabinet, helping draft imperial edicts.

Though Xie Linxu’s official post was lecturer, a vacancy among the candidates left him to be treated as a semi-candidate by the ministers, tacitly preparing him for Cabinet entry.

Now, as a trainee official under the Cabinet ministers, he was their student, making his temporary transfer legitimate.

Moreover, his talents and family background—eldest son of Minister Xie—made him politically astute and reliable. Having him assist was reassuring.

Though other offices rested today, the Cabinet always had someone on duty. Today’s was Chief Minister Ming.

Ming was elderly, nearing sixty, with graying beard and benevolent features. His eyesight was poor, requiring glasses to read memorials. Seeing Xie Linxu enter, he removed his glasses, squinting to confirm.

“Isn’t today a rest day? Why are you here again?”

Xie Linxu answered, “Nothing to do at home these days, and the Cabinet is busy. I was free yesterday, but not today.”

Ming chuckled, “You! When you married, you didn’t rest either. I heard that right after your wedding ceremony, you went on duty the next day. If it were me, I’d rest on my days off. But since you’re here, let’s sit and work.”

Without hesitation, Xie Linxu rolled up his sleeves and began reviewing the petitions alongside Ming.

Ming, once focused, now chatted casually as they worked.

After finishing a draft, he rubbed his eyes and temples, sighing, “Old age is no joke. Not yet sixty, but eyes failing, ears failing, body failing—everything failing. You young men are strong. Your father told me you’ve been waking early every day to see your mother. That’s rare—among officials, it’s truly rare.”

Daily duties were tiresome enough, yet Ming showed earnest care. How could one not appreciate that?

Xie Linxu skillfully multitasked, listening while drafting, replying, “Filial piety is foremost. Honoring parents is a son’s duty.”

Ming nodded approvingly.

Looking over Xie Linxu, he thought of him as his father’s capable son—hard to find fault anywhere.

He had achieved scholarly success, held office, understood social graces, and upheld filial rites.

After admiration, Ming sighed, “The northern war ended sooner than expected. I thought it would take at least five years. General Ji died in battle years ago, a pity. The young general’s prowess has quelled the northern turmoil, avenging his father. With both inherited and military merits, it’s hard to decide his rank upon returning. Your father must be worried.”

At around thirty, Ji Jianyun’s many merits sat heavily on a general barely in his twenties. The civil and military officials in Dayan held different standards.

Too high a rank was impossible, but mid-level was also unsuitable.

This was a thorny problem.

When Ji Jianyun returned, with military expenses freed, Emperor Jingning would surely be restless again, inviting disputes.

Ming stroked his beard, smiling at Xie Linxu. “If you were your father, what rank would you grant this young general?”

Xie Linxu calmly deflected, “Minister, you know I cannot make such decisions now.”

Ming said, “It’s just the two of us. Don’t be shy—I’m just making small talk, curious how young men think.”

Reluctantly, Xie Linxu replied, “Dayan is a land of talents and heroes. One cannot deny merit due to age.”

Ming clapped his hands, laughing, “I almost forgot—you placed third in the imperial exam at nineteen. Heroes recognize heroes; perhaps you two would appreciate each other.”

At that moment, a young attendant hurried in with urgent news.

“Gentlemen, a message from Qianqing Palace.”

Ming’s smile faded as he rose, eyes fixed on the messenger. “What is it? Speak quickly.”

The attendant said, “His Majesty orders the resumption of morning court sessions at the start of mid-autumn.”

Ming exchanged a knowing look with Xie Linxu, who pressed his lips together.

After a busy day, when they finished duty, Ming invited Xie Linxu to dine at the Ming residence. Xie Linxu declined but could not refuse, so he accompanied him.

Along the way, Shouyuan asked, “Shall I send a message home? Your grandmother might be waiting.”

Xie Linxu replied, “No need. If she’s hungry, she’ll eat. She’s not likely to miss me.”

Her heart was elsewhere, not caring for others.

Shouyuan sensed something odd about the young master today, his words laced with barbs. He dared not say more, recalling the previous night when the young master had gone alone to the study—probably another quarrel with the lady.

Better to speak less, avoid mistakes, and remain silent.

*

Meanwhile, at Qinghe Courtyard, Song Xingyue waited long past the hour for Xie Linxu’s return.

The night deepened. Even by the hour of the dog, no sign of him appeared. She sent Danping to inquire but heard nothing. His whereabouts were unknown.

Danping urged her repeatedly, “At this hour, he might be dining out. Miss, you should eat first. If you wait too long, the food will spoil.”

Even with ice plates, the heat made food spoil quickly.

Song Xingyue sat in the main room, copying Buddhist sutras.

She had been at it nearly all day.

Just a little more, and she would finish this rare manuscript to present to Madam Xie.

Hearing Danping’s words, she rubbed her throbbing temples. “It’s all right. There is no more to copy. I will finish.”

Usually, when Xie Linxu was out socializing, he would send word home. Perhaps he took leave yesterday and was now caught up with work.

Danping urged her again, sighing sadly but said no more, stomping off to trim the lampwick.

The candle flickered, shrinking to a tiny point before bursting with a soft crack, briefly darkening then glowing brighter.

At that moment, a sound came from the door—Xie Linxu had returned.

Song Xingyue put down her brush and rose, opening the door to see him stepping back in under the moonlight.

She hurried out beneath the porch, calling, “Changzhou, you’re back!”

But Xie Linxu’s expression remained indifferent. Without answering, he entered the house.

Seeing this, Song Xingyue knew he still harbored resentment over her past with Ji Jianyun.

How he found out was a mystery, but he definitely knew.

Years ago, Ji Jianyun’s presence at the northern border was bearable, but now he was returning.

Xie Linxu was likely troubled by this.

This was troublesome indeed. Someone as rigid as him could hardly tolerate such things.

Xie Linxu returned to the main room, intending to go inside.

Yet his gaze was caught by the Buddhist sutra lying there.

Song Xingyue followed and explained, “I know Grandmother enjoys worship. I thought to copy a sutra for her. It’s a rare, incomplete manuscript. I’m making a new copy.”

Xie Linxu had occasionally seen her copying texts but never asked.

He stepped forward, glanced at the sutra.

The neat floral script was delicate and refined.

Danping had quietly left, leaving only the two of them.

Xie Linxu glanced at the manuscript with apparent disinterest but a trace of mockery in his eyes. Smiling sarcastically, he said, “They say handwriting reflects the person. But your script... doesn’t quite match you.”

Hearing him call her “Madam” was rare, but nothing good could come of it.

Song Xingyue wanted to be frank, to put this matter to rest, for she could no longer endure his veiled hostility.

“I know you still resent Ji Jianyun,” she said. “I was indeed somewhat close to General Ji. But don’t overthink it. We met by chance. Seeing my hardship, he took pity on me like a brother. I treated him as a brother, and he saw me as a sister.”

No matter how deep their past, she could no longer acknowledge it. Even if Xie Linxu knew, she would deny it.

Insisting they were siblings was the only way. If he pressed, that was all it could be.

Siblings?

Xie Linxu let out a bitter laugh from his chest.

What siblings were like a married couple?

Though knowing her to be cunning and deceitful, he was still stunned by her shameless audacity.

He did not want to argue what siblings or lovers were. She always found a way to twist things.

Setting down the sutra, his gaze fixed on her with a cold voice, “I don’t care what you had with him. But now that he’s back, you are a wife of the Xie family. If you betray this household and disgrace the family name, how will you be punished... I will not protect you.”

Song Xingyue hurriedly said, “How could I? I am your wife, your life belongs to you. Haven’t you seen my heart these past two years? I told you, I always treated him like a brother. How could I betray you? You know—on our wedding night, I was pure, right? There is nothing between him and me.”

At this moment, her only relief was that they had never reached that point. Otherwise, she could not explain things to Xie Linxu.

Her words, sincere and emotional, were hard to doubt.

Yet Xie Linxu found it laughable and ironic. Their past meant so little to her, yet what had they been these two years?

“White jade teeth release relics, red lotus tongue emits light.”

Xie Linxu recited this expression with no emotion, eyes half-closed, voice clear and cold, like a statue of Guanyin chanting sutras.

At first, Song Xingyue did not understand, but soon she realized he was quoting a line from the sutra she had been copying.

Xie Linxu said, “If I recall correctly, the Lotus Sutra has been lost. This copy you have is rare, almost impossible to find.”