Volume 1, Chapter 18: A Gift for You to Wear at Your Leisure

The Lantern Festival in the Li Dynasty was celebrated at night. The streets were adorned with lanterns of all shapes and sizes, and for this one night, the curfew was lifted, allowing everyone to enjoy the grand festivities until dawn.

The streets were bustling with vendors and performers, creating a lively atmosphere. Xie Jiaoyue stood before a window on the second floor of Guanghe Tower. To her eyes, the world outside was nothing but a blur of colorful halos; she could see nothing clearly.

But she could still hear.

She heard children clamoring for candied hawthorns, young maidens shopping for lanterns, and passersby challenging each other with lantern riddles.

When Xu Huaiyang arrived in a rush, he learned from the waiter that Xie Jiaoyue had already arrived. Upon hearing this, he hurried upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. He reached the door and was about to knock, but turned to Ping’an instead, frantically adjusting his collar.

"Is my collar straight? And my hair—is there anything out of place?"

Ping’an quickly reached out to straighten his master’s collar and sleeves. A moment later, he withdrew his hands and said, "Your Grace, you should go in. If you wait any longer, Miss Xie will grow impatient."

Xu Huaiyang agreed. He turned back and reached out to knock, but paused, glancing at Ping’an again. "Do you think she will like the wooden hairpin I’ve prepared?"

"Miss Xie will certainly love it. It is something you carved yourself, Your Grace—it is your heart’s sincerity."

Feeling reassured, Xu Huaiyang gritted his teeth and tapped lightly on the door. Only after knocking did he feel foolish; he had reserved this private room himself, so why bother knocking? He could have simply walked in. Yet, he still refrained from entering until a cold, distant "Come in" sounded from within.

As he pushed the door open, he saw the young woman standing with her back to the window. Outside, the streets were filled with light, noise, and flowing crowds, but in Xu Huaiyang’s eyes, there was only the woman in the green gown.

She wore her hair in a cloud-like bun and was draped in a green cloak. Xu Huaiyang stood frozen for a moment, blurting out instinctively, "Why have you become so thin?"

Her chin was so sharp it looked as if it could pierce skin. He remembered that while Xie Jiaoyue had always been slender, she had possessed a certain vitality; now, the woman before him was so gaunt she looked as if a gust of wind might blow her away.

Xu Huaiyang moved closer, his brow furrowing deeper as he scrutinized her. "Has the Prime Minister’s estate been depriving you of food? How did you let yourself become such a wilted reed?"

He found her excessive thinness troubling. A cold draft from the window caught her hair, leaving her back chilled. She lowered her eyes and said faintly, "Why have you summoned me, Your Grace?"

Xu Huaiyang strode toward her. Hearing his firm, heavy footsteps, Xie Jiaoyue involuntarily tensed. To her surprise, he merely brushed past her and walked to the window to shut it. Xie Jiaoyue stood rooted to the spot, her hands clenched beneath her sleeves.

Xu Huaiyang closed the window, feeling a sense of satisfaction. The sight of it wide open had given him the unsettling illusion that the wind might steal her away. After closing it, he circled back to stand before her.

"Can I not see you unless there is a reason?"

Xie Jiaoyue felt the man standing too close—so close she could almost feel the heat radiating from him. She took a slow step back. "If you have no business here, Your Grace, I shall take my leave."

Xu Huaiyang sensed something was wrong. Why was she avoiding him like a wild beast? Had they not already shared an intimacy? "Is something troubling you?"

"Nothing at all."

Xie Jiaoyue kept her eyes down, refusing to look at him. She could not bear to face the man who had stolen her innocence. Every time she saw Xu Huaiyang, she was reminded of how pathetic and self-deluded she had been three years ago. She had thought that if she could just endure that night, everything would be fine—but she had lost not only her purity but everyone in her family. To Xie Jiaoyue, every encounter with Xu Huaiyang was a confrontation with her own wretched past.

Xu Huaiyang frowned. "Xie Jiaoyue, you were not like this when you came to me three years ago."

Her eyelashes fluttered, her body rigid. She looked toward Zhiqiu, who was standing to the side, and said, "You may step out."

Zhiqiu hesitated before saying, "Miss, I shall be waiting right outside the door. If you need anything, just call."

Ping’an, seeing Zhiqiu leave, followed suit, closing the door behind them. With only the two of them left in the room, Xie Jiaoyue’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point. There was more between them than just that one night; there was the child who had never been born. No one in the Prime Minister’s estate ever mentioned that child, and Xie Jiaoyue would not dare to either. That child was the deepest wound in her heart; even thinking of it made her tremble with agony. It had been an innocent life, entirely her own—yet it had been extinguished by her, and by her own kin.

"Did you summon me here, Your Grace, just to speak of that night three years ago?"

The young woman feigned composure, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her expressionless face. "If so, I can tell you that I have already forgotten it."

In truth, Xie Jiaoyue knew she should not act this way. She was to marry Xu Huaiyang—to marry the brute who had violated her. She should be speaking soft words to appease him, but she could not. She could not even summon a smile for this man.

Xu Huaiyang watched the woman before him, her lashes trembling slightly, and felt a strange urge to reach out and touch them. He clasped his hands behind his back, leaning slightly to peer at the woman who was half a head shorter than him.

"Are you angry?" He was sensitive to the emotions in her tone—aversion, sensitivity, and even disgust.

Xie Jiaoyue looked up at him, then quickly lowered her gaze again. "No."

"You clearly are. If you dislike me speaking of that night, I shall stop. What is there to be angry about?"

Xu Huaiyang was, after all, a man; he could not understand that for a woman, that incident represented the loss of her honor and a profound humiliation. He only saw it as a gesture of her affection toward him.

He reached into his robe and pulled out a wooden hairpin. It was crudely carved from boxwood, and because it had been handled so often, its edges had been worn smooth. "I carved this for a long time. Take it, wear it as you please."

Xie Jiaoyue looked at the simple hairpin, her hands remaining motionless beneath her sleeves. She did not want it. But she could not refuse it.

The room fell silent for a long moment before Xu Huaiyang finally sensed that something was amiss. He asked hesitantly, "Do you not like it?"

Xie Jiaoyue looked up at him. "If I accept something carved by your own hand, Your Grace, it will only invite gossip."

"Who would dare to gossip?" Xu Huaiyang frowned.

Xie Jiaoyue did not speak. Before today, she had not understood why Xu Huaiyang had gone to the Prime Minister’s estate to propose marriage. But seeing the wooden hairpin, she finally understood. That night had been a humiliation for her, but for Xu Huaiyang, it had been a barbaric conquest. He viewed her as his woman as a matter of course, and presenting her with the hairpin was, to him, like a husband bestowing a gift upon his wife.