TSLSILMH Ch 14

Chapter 14

That smile was like an invisible breeze, as if it could stir the softest place in one’s heart.

At this moment, Yu Chuxi did not even know what he ought to feel.

After all, he had never imagined hearing such words from Xie Shu’s lips.

In this world, what man does not care about his own dignity? That was why, three years ago, when Yu Chuxi learned that Xie Shu had voluntarily come to marry into their household, he had wondered whether the man had some hidden motive. To be able to endure such a situation—if not for some ulterior purpose—would have made him a rare, open‑minded soul indeed.

As facts later proved, Xie Shu had been the former.

But now, looking into the eyes of the man before him, they were as clear as water, without the slightest trace of impurity.

Could a person truly change so much?

Meeting that gaze, Yu Chuxi instinctively turned his eyes slightly away, suddenly unwilling to go on doubting him.

Then Yu Chuxi also raised a faint smile, saying with a hint of meaning:

“Hardships are nothing—it would be even better if you could save me some worry.”

How could Xie Shu not understand the Young Lord’s meaning? Surely the latter had just seen through his earlier actions, which was why he spoke so deliberately now…

An unbidden thought rose in Xie Shu’s heart—that in truth, the Young Lord’s temperament was very good, only outsiders did not know it.

Which made Yu Wanchun’s⁽¹⁾ attempts to stir up trouble before him all the more despicable. Fortunately, the business from earlier that day had already been settled.

After that, Xie Shu no longer deliberately avoided Yu Chuxi while dining, and without realizing it, the two of them finished all the food on the table—just the right amount.

Even Feng He was slightly surprised. She knew that the Young Lord usually ate little, and even the finest dishes often ended up with a great deal left over. Today, though they had shared the meal with Xie Shu, it had still been no small quantity.

It seemed the Young Lord’s husband did have a good quality after all.

When the two had finished eating, the maids brought mouth‑rinsing tea and hand towels.

Although Xie Shu was not accustomed to these things, there was a saying about doing as the locals do. So whatever the Young Lord did, he followed suit.

Yu Chuxi could, of course, sense Xie Shu’s gaze fixed on his fingertips, but this time he did not let his thoughts stray like before. Indeed, when he stole a glance, he saw Xie Shu simply imitating his movements.

Yu Chuxi could not help but smile faintly. He had once thought that, being a scholar, Xie Shu would be of that high‑minded sort who disdained wealth and privilege, always wanting to make a few critical remarks to distinguish himself from the crowd.

But the present Xie Shu was different.

For some reason, Yu Chuxi had already begun to instinctively divide the man before him into two sides—separate from who he was before. And when he noticed this, he felt as though he might be deceiving himself.

Yu Chuxi was a little lost in thought, while Xie Shu’s gaze lingered for a moment longer on the Young Lord’s hands—pale as carved ice, the bones long and fine.

He still remembered the feeling of holding that hand; now the impression seemed deeper. Yet suddenly recalling it left him slightly embarrassed—why had he thought of such a thing at all?

At once, Xie Shu looked away. By now all the maids had discreetly withdrawn, yet neither man spoke.

As the atmosphere around them, together with the setting sun outside the window, grew tinged with a faint, indescribable subtlety, they both spoke at once:

“You…” “I…”

Meeting each other’s eyes, they both could not help but laugh.

Yu Chuxi’s tone was light: “I was just going to ask if you’d like to go upstairs for a game of chess. And you—what did you want to say?”

Xie Shu’s voice was warm: “Since the Young Lord invites me, how could I not be eager? What I wanted to say can wait.”

Hearing this, Yu Chuxi was only more curious, but he did not press the question, merely instructing Feng He to prepare the chessboard.

By now, Feng He was no longer surprised. She should have known from the way the Young Lord had spoken that afternoon—it had been entirely unlike his usual self…

Though she still did not think highly of the current Xie Shu, seeing the Young Lord so happy as he had never been before, she could not quite bring herself to disturb them…

Reaching the third floor, Xie Shu understood at last what it meant to be in “a scene within a painting.” The top floor of the pavilion was lavish with painted beams and carved rafters, pearl curtains, and embroidered draperies; glass lamp fixtures hung all around.

Leaning against the balustrade, one could take in the entirety of the Yu estate’s scenery, filling the heart with an open, elevated feeling.

So this was where the Young Lord often played chess by moonlight?

After they sat, one took the white stones and the other black, and the game began.

Though it was still the game of weiqi³⁽²⁾, the rules here differed slightly from those in Xie Shu’s original world. In the first round, caught off guard, he had to be reminded by the Young Lord before he understood.

This surprised Yu Chuxi—Xie Shu clearly was no beginner, his skill being in no way inferior to his own; how could he not know such a basic rule?

But Yu Chuxi thought no more of it, for Xie Shu had already spoken of his earlier matter:

“Young Lord, five days from now I am to attend the Xiyuan Poetry Gathering hosted by Third Young Master Gu, in the outskirts of Jinling. I thought I should let you know.”

Given all that had happened today, Xie Shu felt he ought to report to him before going out.

Yu Chuxi considered this: “Third Young Master Gu—the son of the Imperial Salt Inspector?”⁽³⁾

When Xie Shu confirmed, Yu Chuxi placed a stone gently on the board: “The Gu family has always had a good reputation in Jinling, and Third Young Master Gu is spoken of as generous and magnanimous. But it’s best not to get too close to him.”

Hearing the hidden import in the words—likely something Ximo could not have discovered—Xie Shu said seriously: “I beg the Young Lord’s guidance.”

Yu Chuxi’s hand paused slightly before he spoke: “He has an aunt who is a Noble Consort in the imperial court, with a son now eighteen years old. I hear he is very much in the Emperor’s favor—there is even talk of him surpassing the current Crown Prince.”

No wonder Ximo had learned nothing—this touched upon royal affairs.

Understanding the unspoken meaning, Xie Shu smiled lightly: “I understand. Thank you, Young Lord.”

A faint warmth touched Yu Chuxi’s face, and he changed the subject: “I’ve heard about this Xiyuan—it’s a place of rare beauty. Now especially, with the peach blossoms in full bloom, it must be stunning.”

Hearing the yearning in his tone, Xie Shu instinctively said: “Then why not come with me, Young Lord?”

Xie Shu did not know that such a casual remark was, to Yu Chuxi, a great surprise.

At such poetry gatherings, when did Shuang’er⁽⁴⁾ ever attend? They could not sit for the civil examinations, much less hold government office; and because of certain societal and moral restrictions, it was rare for Shuang’er to appear at any occasion where men gathered.

Yu Chuxi could not help but regard him with a curious look.

Since youth, Yu Chuxi had known that as a Shuang’er, he was destined not to carve out a man’s career, and that he would someday have to marry someone else. But he was unwilling to accept it—he could not understand why, merely for having an extra red mole, he should be confined always to the inner residence.

All these years, he had striven against it. Yet even now, there were times when his father looked at him with that gaze of pity.

Of course Yu Chuxi knew what he was pitying—no matter if he had a husband who had married into his family and could manage the Yu household well, in the end he was not a man, and there were many things he could never do.

That constant reminder was unpleasant, and Yu Chuxi even resented that little red mole.

Yet the man before him seemed not to put these so‑called societal rules in his eyes at all—asking as casually as if inviting an old friend.

If it had been anyone else asking, Yu Chuxi might have thought he was being mocked. For in such gatherings, if Shuang’er or women were present, they were usually courtesans or singing girls brought for entertainment.

But Yu Chuxi only smiled—he knew Xie Shu meant nothing of the sort.

In the end, Yu Chuxi shook his head: “I won’t go.”

And from the Young Lord’s subtle expression, Xie Shu sensed something amiss.

Silently, he blamed himself for his thoughtlessness—how could he almost forget the Young Lord’s identity? Though Yu Chuxi was not angry, Xie Shu still cared greatly, uncertain how he might dispel the other’s hidden discomfort.

Just then, Yu Chuxi’s jade‑white fingers moved lightly over the board, capturing one of Xie Shu’s black stones.

But instead of putting it straight back into the basket, he played with it in his hand for a while.

Then, lifting his eyes, Yu Chuxi curved his lips slightly: “If you’re so inclined, then pluck me a branch of peach blossoms.”

That day, after Xie Shu had sent Ximo with a reply to Zhang En‑shi, the latter quickly sent word back: they would meet at the gate of Xiyuan on the third day of the third month at the hour of the dragon⁽⁵⁾—and of course there would be not just him, but several old classmates as well.

Having already inquired in advance about these people, and with all confirmed, Xie Shu thought no more of it.

These past few days, having moved into Tingyu Courtyard, he had quickly grown accustomed to life there.

He exercised in the mornings, read during the day, and sometimes played chess with the Young Lord in the evening. The days passed swiftly.

When the third day of the third month arrived, Xie Shu and Ximo boarded the Yu family’s carriage for Xiyuan.

It was still some time before dawn, yet outside Jinling’s city gate, the line of people going out already stretched long.

Only when the bell on the watchtower was struck and the curfew lifted could the gates be opened.

Normally, Xie Shu would have had to wait, but perhaps because the guards recognized the Yu family’s carriage, they were allowed through ahead of schedule.

Once beyond the city, Xie Shu looked back to see the crowd behind—like flowing water, the carts and horses like a dragon⁽⁶⁾—all surely headed for the poetry gathering. Clearly, today would be a grand occasion.

Along the way, Xie Shu admired the passing scenery, which grew more and more breathtaking as they neared Xiyuan.

Built to follow the contours of the mountain, the garden was surrounded by lush trees and thriving grasses. A clear white‑stone brook ran down from the mountaintop, disappearing into the vegetation in the valleys, winding and coiling like a serpent.

Dismounting from the carriage, Xie Shu saw it was still some time before the agreed meeting.

He did not intend to wait at the gate, but walked instead toward the peach grove he had glimpsed earlier.

Within the city, the peach blossoms had already faded, but on the slopes of Xiyuan, they were in full bloom.

Bright red flowers crowded thick on the branches; their fragrance was rich and intoxicating, their beauty luminous and vivid.

Unbidden, they brought to mind the Young Lord’s appearance.

This was the peach blossom the Young Lord had wished to see.

notes:

1. Yu Wanchun (虞萬春) — A side character who had previously tried to sow discord between the mcs.

2. Weiqi (圍棋) — The game known in English as Go; a traditional strategy board game originating in China.

3. Imperial Salt Inspector (鹽政禦史) — A government official in imperial China in charge of overseeing the salt trade, a highly lucrative and important position.

4. Shuang’er (雙兒) — In this fictional context, refers to a rare male with a red mole who is socially treated in ways similar to women in traditional society, often facing restrictions on public or political life.

5. Hour of the Dragon (辰時) — A traditional timekeeping term in ancient China, referring to the period between 7 a.m. and 9 a.m.

6. “Like a dragon” (車馬如龍) — A metaphorical expression in Chinese prose describing a long, unbroken line of carriages and horses, as if forming the body of a dragon.