TSLSILMH Ch 19

by berry

Chapter 19

Before Xie Shu could finish speaking, the door was pushed open from inside.

His features immediately softened; as he lifted his gaze, he found himself slightly taken aback.

Yu Chuxi seemed to have just woken up—not surprising, given that he was still dressed only in an inner robe of creamy white. His waist was no longer encircled by the ornate girdle beaded with tassels, so that his figure’s graceful lines were softly outlined.

A cascade of jet-black hair tumbled across his shoulders, making his skin all the paler, his features exquisitely clear.

When Yu Chuxi caught sight of Xie Shu, his eyes widened in surprise as well.

How could he have expected to find Xie Shu still outside, bowing politely to the door?

How was he supposed to see that from within his room? What if he hadn’t opened the door just now?

Yu Chuxi felt both exasperation and amusement, yet, for reasons he could not name, a sudden little wildfire of emotion blazed in his heart.

After all, he had already made up his mind—if this person kept his distance, then from now on, he too would abstain from reaching out.

Let him love whomever he pleased; it was nothing to do with himself anymore.

And yet—why did this man have to appear at this very moment, and again with such care and gentleness?

If he truly felt nothing for him, why go to such trouble—why stir his heart once more?

Seeing that his lord wore only a thin undergarment, Xie Shu instinctively averted his eyes, not daring to look too closely.

He then remembered his earlier resolve—not to do anything again that might pain his lord’s heart. Did this behavior of his now seem odd?

He quickly steadied himself and looked straight at Yu Chuxi’s face. However, Yu Chuxi remained expressionless, giving nothing away, simply looking back at Xie Shu in silence.

Meeting Yu Chuxi’s eyes at last, Xie Shu realized that those normally brilliant eyes could also hold such complicated tenderness—part joy, part blame, and a little hidden grievance known only to himself.

For an instant, Xie Shu forgot to breathe.

But then Yu Chuxi’s eyes lifted at the corners, their depths shining again, masking whatever lay deeper within.

His expression was the same as ever, though his tone carried a trace of petulant irritation.

“What’s the point of standing outside to apologize? The maids will only take it for a joke.”

Only then did Xie Shu realize.

When he had arrived, it hadn’t crossed his mind there were maids stationed in the corridor outside at night, though not in Yu Chuxi’s private quarters. A few were even peeking this very moment.

In truth, Xie Shu didn’t mind what others thought—what did that matter? But he didn’t know how his lord would feel about it.

Just as Xie Shu hesitated, Yu Chuxi spoke again:

“If you have something to say, come in and say it.”

Come in?

Xie Shu took a moment to process this. He’d never entered Yu Chuxi’s room before, let alone at night; would it seem inappropriate?

Before he could overthink it, Yu Chuxi’s lips curled into a faint smile.

“What? Is that so difficult for you?”

Xie Shu quickly shook his head—if his lord cared so little, why should Xie Shu hold back?

Once inside, Yu Chuxi lowered his lashes and closed the door behind them. Just now, when he’d seen Xie Shu bowing in the hall, he’d suddenly thought:

No one in this world had ever said he couldn’t fall in love with his own husband.

And so he could love him, admire his learning, be captivated by his quiet tenderness.

Even if, in Xie Shu’s heart, there might be someone else.

But so what?

It was Xie Shu who had come to provoke these feelings.

Upon entering the room, Xie Shu saw the lamps burning dimly. Deep within the silk screens hung a handful of lanterns.

They were ceramic, shaped with fish at one end and a wild goose’s head at the other. The plant oil they burned sent up threads of smoke that curled through the goose’s neck into the fish’s belly, leaving only the faintest, elusive fragrance.

Apparently, no incense burned in this room; yet at that moment, Xie Shu couldn’t help wondering: where did his lord’s ever-present fragrance come from?

He pushed the thought away, found himself a stool, and sat down. As Yu Chuxi approached, moonlight pouring through the window and the evening breeze fanning the lamps, the soft halos of light swayed gently, mingling with the shadows cast by Yu Chuxi, making this moment seem almost dreamlike.

As his lord drew closer, Xie Shu, regaining focus, couldn’t help but voice his concern:

“Your clothing is too thin, my lord. You should put on something warmer.”

Yu Chuxi was silent a moment, but made no objection; instead, he fetched a jacket and draped it around his shoulders.

Only when this was done did Xie Shu feel relieved enough to continue:

“My lord, about what happened today…”

But Yu Chuxi cut him off, simply saying:

“There’s no point in speaking of it now—just remember in the future.”

He had brushed it off so lightly, and since he was no longer angry, Xie Shu’s heart eased. He gazed at Yu Chuxi with warm eyes.

Yu Chuxi looked away.

“Besides that, do you really have nothing else to say to me?”

Sitting in the lantern light, Xie Shu looked at Yu Chuxi—jade-pale cheeks, lips red as if painted, like the first snow resting on begonia blossom: there was something indescribably tender and unattainable about him.

In that instant, Xie Shu forgot what he meant to say.

Yu Chuxi, however, smiled a little:

“Usually at this hour, we’re playing chess. I can’t sleep tonight; what about you?”

So that night, Xie Shu and Yu Chuxi played a few rounds in the room before retiring to bed.

The next day—though who knew what the maids were whispering about—Xie Shu couldn’t help noticing their glances were a bit odd.

He paid little mind. After all, he had his own plans.

Ever since attending the poetry gathering, Xie Shu had found new resolve.

Though this world was still a little bewildering to him, some choices could not be postponed.

A life as a “live-in son-in-law”¹ offered leisure and security—but Xie Shu knew all too well that was only because all the pressures were shouldered by his lord alone.

He still didn’t fully understand what it meant to be a shuang’er² in this world, but it was clear that his husband faced many restrictions. Though Yu Chuxi was the only legitimate son, his position within the family was still threatened.

As for Yu Wanchun, who had come seeking trouble before, though he now seemed to have disappeared, who could say when he might resurface?

Xie Shu knew he was no help in business, but he had his own strengths.

In the ancient world, there was precisely one “path to the clouds”³ that could change one’s fate in a rigidly stratified society.

That path was the imperial examination system.

Only the civil service exams could truly open doors for the ordinary and low-born, offering a ladder upwards.

Whether for himself or for his lover, Xie Shu had decided to embark on this path.

He soon learned that the Da Qing dynasty’s exams had not existed for very long—not even a hundred years—and were not as complicated as those of later generations.

The Da Qing’s exams consisted mainly of four sections: poetry composition, classical explication, discourse essays, and policy proposals.

As a xiucai⁴, Xie Shu’s next challenge was the provincial exam.

Though the term “provincial exam” sounded unremarkable, it was effectively the region’s highest-level exam: passing it bestowed the status of juren⁵—and with it, the right to official appointment. Even those who failed the later national exams could be appointed to secondary posts. Thus, the passing rate was exceedingly low and competition most fierce.

As for the metropolitan and palace exams—they could wait.

The provincial exam took place once every three years, and in the second year of Tai’an (i.e. last year), one had already been held. The next would be in Tai’an year five, giving Xie Shu two years to prepare.

In that time, he would have to master the Four Books⁶ and Five Classics⁷, and study these four categories of exam topics closely—a daunting task, even for him.

For although he had researched such matters in the modern world, never had he been compelled to reach this level of thoroughness.

Of poetry and explication, he was less concerned: the former relied on matching the given theme, the latter required explaining philosophical meanings from selected passages—tasks manageable through dedicated reading.

But discourse essays and policy proposals demanded substantial knowledge of history and current affairs, things not easily found in books alone. Xie Shu would have to give this real thought.

For now, though, he would begin by reviewing the classics.

Because the original owner’s textbooks and notes were still quite complete, Xie Shu wanted for little. He simply had Ximo purchase any missing materials, and Ximo, delighted to see his master engrossed in study, worked all the harder.

Within days, news of the Western Garden poetry meet spread among the literati.

Especially the pair of peach-blossom poems by Xie Shu and Cui Cheng; everyone agreed they were exceptional examples of the theme.

Cui Cheng’s reputation was already established throughout Jinling.

But who was this Xie Shu? At the prestigious Gu family’s gathering, he had outshone so many and left behind a poem that brimmed with unique, tender charm.

Hardly anyone had seen such delicately crafted verses, so refined in language and full of feeling.

Those who attended said the poem was written for Xie Shu’s husband, and that on that day, he had specially requested a branch of peach blossom from Master Gu for his lover.

Everyone wondered: who was this Xie Shu?

Soon, people realized his name seemed familiar—wasn’t he that poor scholar who, three years earlier, had become the Yu family’s son-in-law?

For years now, rumors abounded that Xie Shu and the young master of the Yu family did not get along. It seemed logical—Yu Chuxi’s temper was famous, and who would willingly become a live-in son-in-law unless desperate?

But it turned out they had all been mistaken—Xie Shu was not only talented, but faithful and affectionate as well.

Though skepticism remained, people loved to gossip; as Xie Shu’s poetic reputation spread, so did the tales.

Soon enough, Yu Chuxi heard the news too.

FOOTNOTES

Live-in son-in-law (贅婿, zhuì xù) – A man who marries into his wife’s family and lives with them, a position often considered inferior or humiliating in traditional Chinese society.
Shuang’er (雙兒) – See previous note; typically denotes an effeminate male or third-gender individual, often subject to social restrictions and discrimination.
“Path to the clouds” (青雲路) – A poetic metaphor for the imperial examination system as a route to official success and upward mobility.
Xiucai (秀才) – Lowest credential in the civil exam system, conferring certain social privileges and official eligibility.
Juren (舉人) – A degree-holder who has passed the provincial exam, qualifying for official posts.
Four Books (四書) – The Analects, Mencius, Great Learning, and Doctrine of the Mean—core Confucian texts.
Five Classics (五經) – Classic Chinese works: Book of Poetry, Book of Documents, Book of Rites, Book of Changes, and Spring and Autumn Annals.