“I actually already knew about Father’s affair. I caught him red-handed several times. If I hadn’t ducked away quickly, he’d have discovered me. Say, how come you exposed Father’s dirty secrets? If you hadn’t, everything would’ve been fine.” Xie Jingtao clicked his tongue. “Then again, I used to think that you were a bit of a sissy. The kind of person who just makes you want to punch them. I never expected you to have such guts.”
Xie Jinglan continued to ignore him, but Xie Jingtao didn’t mind. He continued, “How about this? From now on, you can hang out with me. Next time I go to Wanxiang Tower, I’ll bring you with me. Heh… Maybe I’ll even let you try out its intoxicating pleasures. Ah—but you’re still a bit young for that. I wonder if you’d even appreciate them...”
Seeing Xie Jingtao get more and more carried away, Xiahou Lian interrupted quickly. “Enough already. My young master isn’t like you. Memorize that memorial and stop your nonsense.”
Xie Jingtao snorted. “Ingrate.” He glanced down at the memorial in his hand, then back at them, puzzled. “Aren’t you going to memorize it? Father’s going to check it the day after tomorrow.”
“What is it? We don’t have one,” Xiahou Lian said.
“It’s the document impeaching Wei De. Father has nothing better to do, so he wants everyone in the residence to commit it to memory. Those of us who can read should memorize it ourselves, and those who can’t read should learn it from the steward.”
Xiahou Lian fell silent. The “everyone” Xie Jingtao mentioned probably didn’t include Qiuwu Courtyard.
Xie Jinglan was extraordinarily talented, and Xiahou Lian didn’t understand why Xie Bingfeng refused to acknowledge that and insisted on sidelining him.
The moon glided westward, hanging high above the willow branches. The candle near Xie Jingtao had gone out at some point, and the sound of his snoring came from the darkness. The night was quiet but for the occasional chirping of insects hidden in the grass. Outside, the wind picked up, causing the door to tremble in its frame. Clumps of dust dropped from the doorjamb like snow that’d never melted.
Xiahou Lian was dozing when the door quietly opened. Someone outside hissed. Xiahou Lian turned his head to see Lianxiang and Aunt Lan peeking in, making faces and gesturing to him.
Xiahou Lian nudged Xie Jinglan, and together, they crept carefully around Xie Jingtao and crouched by the door.
Aunt Lan handed Xiahou Lian a blanket, her face full of concern. “It’s cold at night, and I don’t want you two to freeze. This blanket will have to do for now. If it’s still too cold, huddle together to keep warm.”
Sharp-eyed Lianxiang noticed the red marks on Xie Jinglan’s face, and she didn’t have to guess what had happened. Her eyes immediately filled with tears.
Xiahou Lian draped the blanket over Xie Jinglan’s back. “Auntie, you’re the best.”
“We should go now,” Aunt Lan said. “If Matron Liu found out we’d visited, who knows what trouble she’d stir up.”
“Wait!” Xie Jinglan grabbed Aunt Lan’s sleeve. “Auntie, do you know why Father hates me and my mother so much?”
Aunt Lan was visibly startled. Her eyes darted nervously. “I...” She seemed reluctant to talk about it, hesitating for a long time without giving a clear answer.
“Auntie, I want the truth.”
“Just tell him, Auntie,” Lianxiang urged.
Aunt Lan sighed, glanced at Xie Jinglan, and slowly began, “Your mother was originally a maid who handled the writing tools and ink, as you know. One day, the lord got drunk and...took your mother. That kind of thing does happen in every household, but your mother was stubborn and refused to accept it. She snuck out of the residence and reported it to the authorities.”
“And then?” Xie Jinglan asked.
“The official at that time happened to be stubborn and inflexible. However much the lord pleaded, he wouldn’t budge. He convicted the lord of raping a servant and demoted him three ranks. From then on, the lord hated your mother. Even when she was pregnant with you, he ignored you both.” Aunt Lan wiped tears from her eyes. “Men are so heartless. But it was hard on your mother—and on you.”
“If she reported it to the authorities, she must have been prepared to leave Xie Bingfeng’s household. Why did she return as a concubine?” Xiahou Lian asked.
Aunt Lan shook her head. “Initially, your mother didn’t know that she was pregnant with you, Shaoye. By the time she realized, it was too late to do anything about it. Tell me, how could a woman incapable of carrying heavy loads or doing hard labor raise a child by herself? Shaoye couldn’t grow up without a father. She originally refused to return to the residence, but I begged her with all my might, and she finally agreed to come back.”
Xiahou Lian opened his mouth, wanting to say something. Seeing Aunt Lan’s tears, however, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
“The lord was too cruel,” Aunt Lan said. “Your mother lived in cold isolation in the courtyard, with no one to care for or love her. After just a few years, she passed away.”
“I understand.” Xie Jinglan nodded. “You should go back now.”
“You must take care of yourself, Shaoye.” Then she glared at Xiahou Lian. “And you take good care of him. It’s all your fault what happened this time.”
“I know,” Xiahou Lian muttered.
Closing the door tightly, Xie Jinglan sat on the ground and clasped his knees against his chest. He stared into the darkness, lost in thought. He’d been unusually silent tonight, saying barely a word. At some point, the last candle went out, drowning the room in pitch black. The combination of heavy, oppressive darkness and indescribable sadness weighed on his shoulders, making it hard to lift his head.
Perhaps his mother wouldn’t have died of despair if Aunt Lan hadn’t persuaded her to return.
Perhaps he would’ve grown up like Xiahou Lian, a little ruffian of the streets. He’d have spent his days causing trouble with his playmates, and when she had time to spare, his mother would’ve chased him down the street, waving a bamboo switch. His playmates would’ve shouted, “Run, Xie Jinglan! Faster! Your mother’s catching up!”
His eyes stung, and a small tear trembled on his curled lashes before dripping onto his collar. Fortunately, the room was too dark for Xiahou Lian to see.
Xiahou Lian’s voice suddenly broke the silence. “Shaoye.”
Quickly, Xie Jinglan buried his face in his knees, afraid that Xiahou Lian would see the tearstains on his face.
“I actually lied to you before,” Xiahou Lian said softly.
“What’d you lie about?” Xie Jinglan tried to keep his voice steady but couldn’t suppress its nasal, weepy tone. Since Xie Jinglan’s face was pressed to his knees, though, Xiahou Lian didn’t notice anything wrong.
“I know who my father is.”
“Is he a scholar? Did he become an official?”
“It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t know him anyway.” Xiahou Lian fidgeted. “My mother won’t let me acknowledge him.”
Xie Jinglan raised his head, puzzled. “How come?”
“She says I’m an indomitable man, and that I should never look to someone else to be my father. Instead, I should make everyone call me Father—preferably while kneeling to me.”
Xie Jinglan was quiet.
“Shaoye, you’re more capable than I am. Not only will you make them kneel and call you Father, you’ll make them do so crying. No one should abuse the young and the poor. What happened today—and what happened to your mother—we’ll eventually settle those scores.”
Xiahou Lian spoke with certainty. Even though they were both still just kids with no real experience, he spoke as if their success was assured. Xie Jinglan peered at him through the pitch-black darkness, as if he saw light in his eyes like stars shining in the night.
Xiahou Lian’s eyes were beautiful. He’d once said that he had his mother’s eyes. Xie Jinglan thought of the demonic woman Dai Shengyan had described, capable of cutting through anything with a single slash.
For no particular reason, he believed what Xiahou Lian said. He didn’t know whether that was because he believed in himself or in Xiahou Lian.