TSLSILMH Ch 9

Chapter 9

Xie Shu had no idea of the commotion he had stirred up. After leaving the Yu residence, he headed toward the market district, and everything he witnessed along the way left him awestruck.

He had once read in books the phrase, “Jiangnan, a land of beauty; Jinling, the imperial city.” He had believed those words to be the pinnacle of poetic praise—yet reality far surpassed even a fraction of what the texts described.

The Yu family resided in the very heart of Jinling City. At this moment, the morning light had fully risen; the sun’s rays pierced the clouds in a cascade of golden brilliance, bathing the entire city in a warm, tranquil glow.

It was early spring: orioles fluttered, grasses stretched long, and peach blossoms bloomed in every corner, swaying in the soft golden breeze.

As the distant drum tower struck the first morning bell, the entire city of Jinling seemed to awaken from slumber. Neatly aligned streets bustled with passersby and travelers; cattle, sheep, carts, and horses surged forward, converging into what seemed like countless black ink dots painting a vibrant and vivid scroll.

Having just stepped out of the Yu residence, Xie Shu wandered slowly down the street, observing everything around him with curiosity.

The people nearby seemed to make a conscious effort to avoid colliding with this refined yet delicate‑looking young gentleman. Many, upon seeing him emerge from the resplendent Yu residence, already recognized his face.

Wasn’t this the scholar Xie who had married into the Yu family? How was it that, after only a few days, he appeared even more handsome than before?

Well, of course—otherwise how could the Yu family have chosen him in the first place!

Such murmured whispers did not affect Xie Shu in the slightest. His thoughts were elsewhere—what could possibly matter more than the splendor before his eyes?

Ximo, following behind Xie Shu, noticed his master’s interest in the dazzling market goods and offered eagerly, “Master, why don’t we head to Changle Ward? The morning market there is the liveliest!”1

The phrase “morning market” caught Xie Shu’s attention, and he nodded in agreement.

When they arrived at Changle Ward, Xie Shu quickly immersed himself in the scene. The vibrant sights resembled those he had read about in ancient texts, yet they were wholly different—no written description could compare to experiencing it firsthand.

Before long, lost among the throngs of people moving in every direction, Xie Shu could scarcely distinguish one scene from another.

Even amidst the bustle, he didn’t forget to observe the customs of this era.

Most of the people wore short coarse robes, some made of fabric even simpler than what the Yu family’s servants wore. Short robes were common garb for commoners—if anything, this proved the Yu family was wealthier than he had imagined.

There were, of course, others in brocade garments or, like him, long scholar’s robes.

The market thrived with liveliness; merchants and travelers filled the streets, offering glimpses into Jinling’s flourishing prosperity.

Soon, Xie Shu’s steps halted where a growing crowd had gathered.

Ximo craned his neck, his voice rising with excitement: “Master, that’s an out‑of‑town troupe performing—a street act they call kaitangkou2! Let’s go watch!”

Xie Shu wanted to agree, but the sea of people made it impossible to get closer.

Unbothered, Ximo slipped through the crowd with nimble ease and uncanny tact, carving a path for Xie Shu to follow.

Once they reached the front, Xie Shu finally saw clearly.

A burly man of about thirty was performing feats of acrobatics. Each time he swallowed a sword or breathed fire, the crowd erupted into applause and cheers.

His partner was a youth, no more than sixteen or seventeen, moving with graceful agility. Though less skilled than the strongman, the youth somehow elicited even greater excitement from the audience.

Perplexed, Xie Shu heard Ximo exclaim in awe beside him, “Who would’ve thought—he’s a shuang’er!”3

Shuang’er?

Xie Shu’s sharp mind caught the unfamiliar term. He had seen it in books before but had never understood its meaning.

What made a shuang’er different?

He studied the youth closely: his features were more delicate than most men’s, his attire far more colorful, yet otherwise unremarkable—save for a small mole on his face, though from this distance Xie Shu couldn’t see it clearly.

What he didn’t realize was that the youth had already noticed him as well.

Having trained with the troupe since childhood, the youth no longer saw himself as an ordinary shuang’er. Yet hardship had marked his life; more than once he had wondered—if he had been born to a normal household, would he already have been married by now?

He had not expected, upon arriving in Jinling, to behold such a strikingly handsome and pleasing young gentleman. He did not know whether the man was already married, but given his own background, becoming even a concubine would be a blessing. Why not try expressing his feelings?

As he approached the crowd for tips, the youth, seizing the moment, unfastened the fragrant sachet from his waist and walked toward Xie Shu.

Xie Shu noticed the peculiar gleam in his eyes—an emotion that seemed almost shy.

Being from modern times, Xie Shu quickly entertained an unbelievable thought: did this boy… like him?

When the youth extended the sachet, Xie Shu’s suspicion turned to certainty. In ancient times, gifting a sachet was a token of love. Yet Xie Shu had never imagined it would be done so boldly, in public.

What shocked him even more was that the surrounding onlookers cheered, urging him to accept. Their faces showed no surprise, no disdain—only casual amusement, as if such gestures were entirely normal.

Beside him, Ximo stared wide‑eyed. Though his master had always been handsome, he had never encountered such an incident before.

Seeing Xie Shu remain motionless, Ximo grew anxious and tugged his sleeve in reminder: “Master, there’s still a langjun waiting at home.”4

These words pulled Xie Shu back to his senses. Though countless questions still clouded his mind, he knew this sentiment must be refused first.

His expression remained calm, his eyes cool as before. His gaze skimmed past the youth’s red mole; finally, he simply shook his head, saying nothing.

The youth had already sensed the outcome. Up close, he saw that despite Xie Shu’s refined appearance, he exuded an aloof chill.

Though the youth himself was not unattractive, he had failed to catch the gentleman’s eye at all.

He had clearly heard the servant call him langjun—in ordinary households, an unmarried shuang’er would be called ge’er, and after marriage, fulang (husband). To be addressed as langjun suggested noble origins—and a deeply cherished spouse.

Envy flickered in the youth’s eyes. What kind of man, he wondered, could win the devotion of someone like this?

Yet since the gentleman harbored no interest and already loved another, the youth, surprisingly, felt no resentment. Turning lightly on his heel, he left without looking back.

Emerging from the sea of people, Xie Shu’s mind was a whirl of tangled thoughts. The hum in his ears drowned everything else, as fragments of recent events converged into a tidal wave that left him at a loss.

He closed his eyes briefly. In his mind flashed the image of a red mole at the corner of an eye—vivid as cinnabar—sometimes accompanied by a faint, teasing smile that lingered in his chest.

Suddenly, he spoke to Ximo: “Let’s go back.”

Sensing his master’s wish for solitude, Ximo followed silently. Master and servant, equally quiet, failed to notice a figure watching them from a distance.

Wei Qingtong had spotted Xie Shu earlier.

He had come to the morning market to buy rouge, and the street performance had caught his attention. By the time he arrived, the show was nearly over. Overhearing the crowd gossip that a performing shuang’er had fancied a handsome gentleman—who, out of deep devotion to his own fulang, had refused—Wei Qingtong turned to look and discovered the man was none other than Xie Shu!

He had intended to approach and speak, but hesitation stilled him. As an unmarried shuang’er, to boldly step forward in public would make him no different from the street performer.

Besides, Wei Qingtong was unsure whether Xie Shu might still be angry with him.

That day, Wei Qingtong had secretly arranged a meeting with Xie Shu aboard a pleasure boat, without his parents’ knowledge. He had never expected another boat to collide with theirs…

In the aftermath, Wei Qingtong had not dared linger. He had only instructed Ximo to rescue Xie Shu before slipping away.

Seeing Xie Shu safe today finally eased his heart. After all, why would Xie Shu harbor resentment toward him?

Recalling how decisively Xie Shu had just rejected another shuang’er, Wei Qingtong’s heart leapt with joy. He knew better than anyone: Xie Shu’s relationship with Yu Chuxi was nothing more than a facade.

Yet a small pang of disappointment struck him. Though he stood not far away, Xie Shu never noticed him.

Just then, Xie Shu turned his head, his clear gaze sweeping over Wei Qingtong. Wei’s heart skipped a beat, panic rising unbidden—yet in the next instant, Xie Shu looked away and continued walking.

Xie Shu had instead noticed an indigo silk carriage approaching, bearing the character “Yu.” It must belong to the Yu family.

After Ximo confirmed it, Yu family retainers descended from the carriage, their expressions grim.

“Master Xie, please return with us. The Master wishes to see you.”

Xie Shu knew who they meant—but given the current state of affairs, he was uncertain of their relationship. Suppressing a cough, he asked mildly, “Has something happened?”

The servant’s expression softened slightly, though he offered no detail. “You will know when you return, Master Xie. It concerns the young master.”

Xie Shu’s expression shifted faintly; he asked no further questions and stepped into the carriage.

Meanwhile, the Yu family’s grand estate remained tense.

The words “separate quarters,” spoken earlier by Yu Wanchun, had struck Yu Wanli like a sudden thunderclap.

He had long suspected his son’s marital relationship might be strained, but he never imagined the couple had been living apart. Had his child truly concealed everything from him for three whole years?

Yu Wanli’s health was already frail; now, blood surged to his head, leaving him breathless. Refusing aid, he confronted Yu Chuxi directly.

Yet even under pressure, Yu Chuxi would not admit it—answering instead with resolute defiance.

In the end, Yu Wanli was helpless. He gazed into his son’s eyes—black as ink, fathomless, yet gleaming with a single bright point, dazzling like flowing light and luminous jade.

At that moment, Yu Wanli couldn’t define his feelings. How could this child resemble him so much? The same stubbornness… and perhaps because of that, Yu Wanli yearned even more for the truth. Without it, how could he rest easy?

Yu Wanchun, ever eager to stoke the flames, spoke up: “Since Chuxi refuses to speak, why not have Xie Shu return and tell us himself?”

But as soon as the words left his lips, Yu Chuxi’s gaze shot toward him—cold and sharp as a blade. Yu Wanchun, guilty at heart, felt a shiver of fear.

In the end, Yu Chuxi said nothing further. His lashes lowered slightly; the shifting light cast a graceful shadow across his jade‑pale face, veiling his emotions from all.

Truthfully, Yu Chuxi himself did not know why he hadn’t objected. He could have delayed this matter, though it would have been troublesome.

Allowing Xie Shu to return meant surrendering all initiative to the other’s hands.

A state Yu Chuxi was deeply unaccustomed to.

And yet…

Silently, Yu Chuxi clenched his fingertips. Perhaps he should test him—see what kind of man he truly was.

Footnotes

Changle Ward (長樂坊) – An ancient district name; wards were administrative and commercial divisions in major Chinese cities.

Kaitangkou (開堂口) – A street performance term meaning “opening the hall’s mouth,” often referring to roadside shows meant to draw in audiences.

Shuang’er (雙兒) – A historical term for effeminate or androgynous males, often those in entertainment or relationships with men; connotations vary from affectionate to derogatory.

Langjun (郎君) – Literally “young lord” or “gentleman”; in context, an honorific used to refer to one’s husband, especially implying noble status.