Shen Yujiao was in a daze all the way until she was brought back home. Only when she saw Aunt Liu and the children did her scattered, uneasy thoughts settle somewhat.
Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the hand resting across her shoulder. Her gaze shifted slightly.
He had held her like this the whole way, and she hadn’t felt anything improper about it? Since when had she… come to trust him, draw close to him like this?
“My goodness, what on earth happened here?”
Aunt Liu was startled when she saw blood smeared across Xie Wuling’s face, hands, and clothes, while Shen Yujiao’s hair was in slight disarray and her cheeks were streaked with tears. “How could the fight be so fierce, with so much blood?”
“Auntie, don’t worry—it’s someone else’s blood.”
Xie Wuling’s expression still carried a trace of coldness, though his tone gentled: “Take Xiuxiu and Gouwazi back with you. I’ve got Jiaoniang here to look after me.”
Hearing this, Aunt Liu realized the young couple wanted some time alone, and didn’t press further. “All right then. Jiaoniang, you tend to Ah Ling’s wounds. I’ll take Ping’an for now, and once the child wakesn later, I’ll bring them back to you.”
Shen Yujiao: “Thank you, Auntie.”
“It’s nothing.” Aunt Liu tucked Ping’an in her arms, pulled along Gouwazi and Xiuxiu, and left.
The little courtyard quickly quieted. Shen Yujiao slid the gate bolt shut from the inside, and only then did her taut heart loosen a little.
Turning around, she saw Xie Wuling sitting on the long bench, faint traces of blood still marking his sharp-boned features. In the afternoon sunlight, his peach blossom eyes curved as he smiled at her.
Faced with that smile, Shen Yujiao’s nose suddenly stung.
She didn’t know why she felt like that. She blinked hard to push back the inexplicable tears before they could fall. Walking over, her voice caught slightly: “How can you still be smiling?”
Xie Wuling tugged at his lips. “I just feel like smiling.”
When she had held him just now, the worry in her eyes had been utterly real, impossible to fake.
In her heart, there was a place for him now.
Shen Yujiao didn’t bother arguing with his cheerfulness. She, at any rate, couldn’t smile at all right now. Seeing him with a face full of blood, she sighed: “Sit down, I’ll fetch water to wash your face.”
“I can do it myself…”
“Sit down!”
Her brows knit and her tone rose sharply. Meeting his stunned gaze, she realized her outburst, her cheeks flushing as she added, “Just… sit down and don’t move around anymore.”
Leaving those words behind, she no longer looked at him, hurrying off to fetch water and a cloth.
When she returned carrying the basin, she found him still sitting obediently on the long bench, waiting for her. She lowered her gaze: “Let’s do it inside.”
Out here she wouldn’t even know where to set the basin.
Xie Wuling said nothing, just followed her into the sleeping quarters.
Since she had moved into the bedroom, the place had almost become her private domain. He rarely stepped in; the few times he had, he left right after speaking.
But now, with her tacit permission, he sat on the bench by the window, watching as her slender pale hands wrung out the clean cloth, then step by step wiped the blood from his face.
She was so close. At his nose lingered her faint, elegant fragrance of gardenia.
And because he was seated and she was standing, his line of sight was level with her front. Even though her cross-collar was fastened tight, he could still glimpse the graceful curves beneath.
Xie Wuling’s breathing suddenly grew uneven.
The hot-blooded fury from the brawl had barely cooled for a moment before heating up again.
Fragments of details he had overlooked came back to mind—for example, when she had held onto him just now, his arm had pressed against a warm, soft mound, so close, so yielding…
“You’ve split the corner of your mouth…”
The woman’s clear voice suddenly sounded, cutting off his wandering thoughts.
Xie Wuling’s face grew hot; he averted his gaze. “Split, has it? I didn’t even notice.”
“Mm, a little.”
Shen Yujiao frowned at the cut at his mouth’s corner. “Luckily it’s just this one spot on your face that’s hurt.”
“Go wash your hands yourself.” She set the bloodied cloth by the basin, not forgetting to remind him, “Wash gently. With the way you punched, your fists must’ve split too.”
“Then you do it for me. My hands are clumsy—I might hit the wound.”
Shen Yujiao froze. Seeing the man at the table fixing those strikingly bright black eyes steadily on her, she couldn’t tell if he truly didn’t know how or was just pretending.
After hesitating a moment, she still picked up the cloth, lifted one of his hands, and slowly began wiping it clean.
She worked carefully, but she could still feel the man’s gaze fastened unerringly to her face, burning with heat.
This man always looked at her like this, never knowing the slightest concealment.
Shen Yujiao did her best to ignore it, silently cleaning his hands.
When the blood was washed from both fists, sure enough, the knuckles were raw all over, proof of how hard he had struck earlier.
“Is there medicine at home?” she asked.
“There is.” Xie Wuling replied, “In the kitchen, that black wooden cabinet against the wall.”
Shen Yujiao picked up the basin of water, now half-stained red with blood, and glanced at him. “Take off the dirty clothes too. I’ll wash them later.”
Xie Wuling said, “Leave them, I’ll wash them myself later.”
These days, they each washed their own clothes—though the baby’s soiled diapers had been entirely Xie Wuling’s responsibility.
He had intended to wash Shen Yujiao’s garments as well, but she would never allow a man to handle her intimate clothing, so he gave up on the idea.
“With your hands like this, what clothes are you washing?”
Shen Yujiao said, “Just rest these next few days. Wait until they’ve scabbed over before thinking about it.”
Not giving him a chance to argue, she carried the basin out of the room.
Sure enough, in the kitchen cabinet were plenty of medicines—powders, oils, bandages, scissors, all in order. Some bottles were nearly empty, clear proof that wounds of flesh and skin were an everyday matter for him.
Shen Yujiao wasn’t sure which medicine to use, so she simply gathered them all up in her arms and carried them back to the main room.
She had just stepped through the doorway when she froze—inside, the man sat with half his torso bare, clothes hanging loose. Startled, she quickly turned her back. “You—you’re not wearing clothes again!”
Xie Wuling, who had been checking the wound on his back in the mirror, raised his eyes at her embarrassed cry. “Weren’t you the one who told me to take off the dirty clothes?”
Shen Yujiao bit her lip. “I meant the outer robe! Don’t tell me your underclothes are filthy too?”
Xie Wuling: “Not dirty, but my back aches a little. Must have been when that club struck my bones.”
Shen Yujiao blinked in shock, eyes widening. “You were hit with a club?”
“That pack of dog b*stards, when they couldn’t beat me head-on, they fought dirty.”
Xie Wuling’s tone was flat: “Just took one blow, it’s nothing serious.”
But the casual way he spoke only made Shen Yujiao’s heart twist uncomfortably.
Just earlier in that alley—if not for him appearing in time and protecting her with everything he had—who knows what state she’d be in now.
Forget it. After all… she was going to marry him.
She steadied her breath, then turned around, hugging the pile of medicine bottles as she walked inside. “Sit down. Let me take a look.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Xie Wuling’s eyes.
When she came closer, he noticed the faint blush coloring her pale earlobes, and understood.
Suppressing the urge to let his lips curl, he obediently sat down and turned half his body. “On the left side, just above the waist.”
Shen Yujiao set the medicine bottles on the table, forced down her shyness, and circled behind him.
The afternoon sun streamed quietly in from the window. Her gaze fell on the man’s bare upper body.
His white inner shirt was half on, half slipped down to his waist. She knew he was tall and broad, but seeing with her own eyes like this, his shoulders seemed even wider, his back broader, his arms firm and well-shaped. His waist narrowed down cleanly, no extra flesh at all, his lean muscles sharply defined, as though brimming with endless strength.
Though it wasn’t the first time she had seen him bare-chested, under broad daylight… this was the very first.
Her long lashes dipped low. Shen Yujiao forced herself to cast aside stray thoughts and searched for the wound.
Looking carefully, she noticed many faint, shallow old scars across his body. From beneath the inner shirt, the edge of another scar faintly peeked out.
As if compelled by some unseen force, she reached out and gently pulled back the cloth.
What she saw was a nearly ten-inch scar, running from top to bottom, hideous like a centipede crawling across his back.
She couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath.
“Scared you?”
From in front came the man’s low, casual voice. “If you’re frightened, just cover it with the clothes.”
Shen Yujiao pressed her lips together, silent for a moment, then asked: “That scar… is it from when you took a blade for Sixth Master?”
Xie Wuling: “You know about that?”
Shen Yujiao: “Aunt Liu told me…”
Xie Wuling: “Oh.”
“You were only sixteen then…”
Shen Yujiao lowered her eyes, her fingertip stopping an inch away from that scar. “Weren’t you afraid of dying?”
“You make it sound like there are people in this world who aren’t afraid of death.”
Xie Wuling let out a short laugh, his lazy tone carrying a hint of chill. “You’re better read than me, you must’ve heard of the saying—‘to place oneself in death’s ground, and only then find life’?”
Shen Yujiao: “Hm?”
Xie Wuling suddenly turned half his face, his pitch-black eyes slanting toward her. “I was afraid of death, but I was even more afraid of living on like that.”
This young lady, raised deep in the boudoir, knowing nothing of the world’s cruelty—how could she understand what it meant to be treated like a dog in an underground gambling den, forced to do those filthy, shameless, inhuman things?
He couldn’t rot away forever in that bottomless, pitch-dark mire. At that time, Sixth Master Chang was the only noble benefactor who could take him out of that h*llhole.
Forget just taking one knife—if both his arms had been hacked off, as long as he could leave that d*mned place, it would still have been worth it.
Shen Yujiao was still hazy over his words, just about to ask again when Xie Wuling curved his lips and flashed her a rogue’s grin: “You said you’d check my wound, but after staring this long you still haven’t found it. Don’t tell me you think this lord’s body is too fine, and you just want to drag it out for a few more looks?”
This scoundrel! Shen Yujiao’s cheeks burned, and she bit her lip. “Who wants to look at you!”
“If you want to look, then look. It’s not like I won’t let you.”
Xie Wuling’s eyes bent with teasing laughter. “Never mind looking, even if you wanted to touch—ah!”
A sudden press landed right on the bruise at his lower back, making him bare his teeth in pain.
“Stupid woman!” He twisted back, gritting his teeth. “You trying to murder your own husband?”
Shen Yujiao, vexed, scolded him: “Who told you to talk such nonsense. Sit still, I’ll rub in the medicated oil for you!”
Her deliberately raised voice carried a hint of guilty concealment.
The moment he heard she’d apply the oil, Xie Wuling shut his mouth at once—after all, the real benefit was far better than empty banter.
He obediently sprawled over the table. Shen Yujiao warmed the oil between her palms, sat down behind him, and reached toward the bruise on the left side of his back.
The instant her palm touched his back, the man’s body tensed hard.
Shen Yujiao grew nervous: “Did I… did I hurt you?”
But she hadn’t even used any force yet.
Xie Wuling rested his chin on folded arms, his handsome face taut, then gave a light cough. “It’s fine. Go on.”
“Oh.” Shen Yujiao said softly, “If it hurts, you must tell me.”
“Mm.”
As he lay there, he felt that soft palm gently working at the bruise—tingling, itching, like a kitten’s claws scratching at his heart…
This wasn’t applying medicine at all—this was torment.
“Use some strength! Haven’t I been feeding you?”
“…”
Shen Yujiao bit her lip, gave a perfunctory “oh,” but grumbled inwardly: what’s he being so fierce for.
It was her first time rubbing in oil for someone—wasn’t she just afraid of hurting him.
Seeing her increase the pressure, the sharp pain pressed down the stirrings he’d just felt. Lounging lazily against the table, Xie Wuling let out a comfortable hum. “Having a wife is better after all—get hurt, and there’s someone to apply medicine.”
Shen Yujiao didn’t answer that, only fretted: “Just now, you beat Chang Song so badly, even crushed the bones in his hand. If Sixth Master finds out, won’t he come to settle accounts with you?”
“Don’t know.”
“…I’m being serious.”
“I am serious,” Xie Wuling said. “We’ll see how that b*stard Chang Song reports back. As for Sixth Master… he’s always fair.”
“Even if he’s fair, that’s still his son.”
Shen Yujiao’s brows knit tight, her voice low and heavy. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have trusted that little beggar’s words, I actually fell into that man’s trap!”
At this, Xie Wuling turned, one brow raised as he slanted her a look. “Don’t go out of your way to heap guilt on yourself. It was that dog Chang Song with his crooked thoughts. You stayed quietly at home—what wrong was there?”
Shen Yujiao’s voice was guilty. “If only I hadn’t gone out…”
“Heh. And you think you can stay inside forever? Besides, you really think that just by staying in, you can kill off evil men’s desires?”
Xie Wuling gave a cold snort. “Two years ago that b*stard took a fancy to a flower seller on the west side of the city. The woman was already betrothed and refused him. He climbed the wall at midnight and r*ped her.”
Shen Yujiao gasped: “And then?”
“What else? He threw silver at it and smoothed it over. Could a commoner family ever bring him down?”
Shen Yujiao’s breath caught, her heart sinking.
Seeing her pale face and silence, Xie Wuling sat up and ruffled her hair. “Don’t be afraid. Isn’t there still me?”
Even so, a heavy shadow still weighed on Shen Yujiao’s heart.
In a world where power pressed down like this, the lives of commoners were as cheap as grass.
Even if Xie Wuling had good fists and skills, when faced with true power—what use could it be?
After a while, she pressed those worries down, and lifted away the broad hand resting on her head. “Your hand injury isn’t healed yet, don’t move around.”
She glanced again at his half-covered chest. “Put your clothes on properly too, don’t catch a chill.”
Before the words had fallen, her eyes paused on a dark red birthmark near his collarbone.
Following her gaze, Xie Wuling deliberately straightened his back, chest muscles standing out more, narrow waist tauter.
Shen Yujiao: “…”
Her cheeks flushed. She quickly turned her eyes away and pretended to busy herself with the medicine bottles.
The sound of rustling clothes reached her ears. She secretly breathed out in relief, and once he had put on his inner shirt, she went on applying medicine to the injuries on his fist.
Compared to treating the bruise on his back, this time, facing him directly, the man’s gaze burning on her cheek was all the more blatant and scorching.
Shen Yujiao grew a little flustered, searched for words: “That thing… is it a birthmark?”
Xie Wuling: “So that’s what you were staring at just now.”
Shen Yujiao: “…?” What else would it be.
Xie Wuling carelessly: “A birthmark.”
“Looks like a qilin.”
Shen Yujiao murmured, then suddenly recalled something, curiosity stirred: “Who gave you your name?”
Her voice fell, and the room sank into silence.
Puzzled, she lifted her eyes—only to see the man at the window, his expression indifferent, still.
Her heart tightened, wondering if she had misspoken, when his thin lips moved: “My mother.”
Shen Yujiao’s hands froze in their bandaging.
His mother—Xie Xiangniang, a courtesan at Qinhuai River.
Afraid of stirring bad memories, she did not probe further, only lowered her gaze and softly said: “Wuling is a fine name.”
“What’s fine about it? She never wanted to give birth to me, would rather I didn’t exist. Then she stuck on ‘ling’ like in tomb, hoping I’d die without even a grave to bury me in.”
“Nonsense.”
Shen Yujiao lifted her eyes, meeting his firmly. “Ling—composed of 阜 and 夌. 阜, a great earth mound; 夌, to climb and cross. Wu Ling should be read as: no mountain you cannot cross! ‘One must know, in youth, to set lofty ambitions, and once vowed, to be the finest under heaven.’ Your mother was pinning great hopes on you.”
Xie Wuling’s gaze flickered.
In all the twenty-odd years of his life, it was the first time he had heard someone explain his name this way.
“She was of lowly stock—how could she ever have known to use such flowery words.”
His lips tugged faintly, but seeing the young lady before him, those clear eyes full of encouragement and hope, something deep within him stirred.
What was it she had just said… One must know, in youth, to set lofty ambitions, and once vowed, to be the finest under heaven?
A fine verse indeed.
“Alright then.”
He looked at her, the dark narrow eyes beneath his lashes shining bright, his eye-corners lifting slightly. “From now on, if anyone asks, it’s Xie as in ‘thank heaven and earth,’ Wu as in ‘lawless,’ and Ling as in the ling made of 阜 and 夌.”
Shen Yujiao beamed. “Mn!”
She lowered her head, continued applying the medicine. “If it hurts, remember to say.”
“Hiss—hurts.”
“Ah?”
“If Jiaojiao gives me a kiss, it won’t hurt anymore.”
“…!”
This man. Shen Yujiao pressed her lips, muttering: “Then go ahead and hurt to death!”
—
Though Xie Wuling kept saying Sixth Master Chang was fair in his dealings, Shen Yujiao, thinking of how Chang Song had been beaten half to death in broad daylight, still felt restless.
People were partial by nature. No matter how fair Sixth Master Chang was, could he truly feel no resentment toward Xie Wuling for crippling his son?
If Sixth Master Chang wanted trouble, what would they do…
Tossing and turning in bed, she even thought: if Sixth Master Chang really pursued this matter, could she persuade Xie Wuling to pack up overnight and flee Jinling City?
But they had already furnished the courtyard, deposits had been paid for the banquet, the wedding rites, the wedding robes.
If they ran now, no matter how you looked at it, it would be a loss…
The matter was like a blade hanging over their heads, who knew when it might fall. The whole night, Shen Yujiao scarcely slept.
Only when dawn’s pale light seeped in did drowsiness finally overwhelm her.
Yet her mind still troubled, she dreamed a nightmare—Chang Song that shameless wretch sneaking into the courtyard to violate her.
She fought desperately, and just as he was about to succeed, she grabbed the scissors from under her pillow and stabbed him.
Her hands were drenched in blood, she sat frozen—she had killed someone…
“No!”
Her eyes flew open. Shen Yujiao jerked awake, the rosy gauze canopy lit faintly by morning light. She raised her hand.
Clean. No blood.
Just a dream. She let out a long breath, wiped the cold sweat, and sat up.
Instinctively she turned toward the side, then remembered Ping’an was sleeping with Xie Wuling—since the child needed to nurse at night, he had taken it upon himself so as not to disturb her.
She rose, dressed, combed her hair. When she pushed the door open, she saw the courtyard gate wide, Aunt Liu with Ping’an picking vegetables, and two guards at the entrance—Mountain Cat and Sparrow, Xie Wuling’s men.
The whole courtyard bustled with people, but of Xie Wuling there was no sign.
Her heart sank. Mountain Cat and Sparrow, seeing her, called out in unison: “Good morning, sister-in-law!”
Shen Yujiao gave a polite nod. “Why are you here? Where’s your boss?”
The two exchanged a look. Mountain Cat said: “Boss went to the Chang estate. Afraid you’d feel unsafe at home, he left me and Sparrow to guard the gate.”
Shen Yujiao’s face shifted. “Did he go on his own, or did someone from the Chang estate come?”
“He went on his own.”
The Wildcat said sheepishly: “That Chang Song was beaten pretty badly. Boss said he has to go personally and explain things clearly to Sixth Master. If it’s his fault, he’ll take the punishment. If it’s not his fault, no one else should think they can pin it on him.”
Shen Yujiao stood in the courtyard. The autumn sun was shining warmly on her, yet she felt waves of cold panic rising inside.
Aunt Liu had also pieced together what had happened from Wildcat and Sparrow. Seeing Shen Yujiao’s pale face, she gently comforted her: “Jiaoniang, don’t worry too much. After all, Ah Ling once saved Sixth Master’s life. And this time it was that Second Master Song who provoked first—you can’t blame Ah Ling entirely… Go wash up, and have some breakfast.”
Wildcat and Sparrow echoed in quick succession: “Exactly. Before going out, Boss specially reminded us to tell Sister-in-law not to worry. As soon as he’s done, he’ll come right back.”
Hearing them say so, Shen Yujiao forced out a faint smile. “Alright.”
She went off to the back courtyard to wash.
Aunt Liu looked at the graceful figure retreating and sighed while picking vegetables: “A girl that beautiful… it’s not always a good thing.”
Wildcat squatted down at the threshold and thought: Isn’t that the truth. Not to mention this little lady has already been married once, with a child in her belly.
If Boss were to fall out with Sixth Master this time because of her… that would really be a loss outweighing the gain. A true disaster brought by beauty.
Everyone in the courtyard was lost in their own thoughts.
Shen Yujiao hastily ate a few mouthfuls of breakfast, but her mind wandered the whole day.
Watching the bright sun climb past the treetops and then gradually sink, her unease grew stronger.
At last she made up her mind, went into the courtyard, and told Wildcat to go inquire at the Chang residence.
Wildcat didn’t hesitate, patted the dust from his pants as he got up: “Don’t worry, Sister-in-law, I’ll go right away.”
He had only just gone out when he came hurrying back, shouting: “He’s back, Sister-in-law! Boss is back!”
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