Shi Yuanzhi leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and sat there without moving for a very long time.
So long that the candle on the desk burned down completely, the flame went out, and the room sank into darkness. Still, he did not move.
The watchman’s voice drifted in from outside.
Dong, dong, dong—clang. It was the third watch of the night.
Shi Yuanzhi opened his eyes. By the light of the moon outside, he glanced at the pile of papers crumpled into balls on the desk and suddenly found it rather laughable.
It seemed that he had spent his entire life making the wrong choices.
When he was young, he had defied his parents for the sake of a woman. In middle age, he had thrown his newborn son into a side courtyard to await death for the sake of his pride. And now, he was once again being made a fool of by that same woman.
Shi Yuanzhi rose, straightened his slightly wrinkled collar, and walked out of the study.
Most of the lanterns in the corridor had already gone out. Only a few remained lit, their orange-yellow glow swaying in the night breeze as though they might be extinguished at any moment.
He followed the corridor toward the main courtyard. After a few steps, he suddenly stopped before the moon gate leading into the garden.
Moonlight poured down from above, falling across his no-longer-youthful face.
Deep wrinkles had formed at the corners of his eyes, and several strands of white had appeared at his temples. He looked at least five years older than he really was.
The swing in the garden was still there. Its ropes had been replaced, and so had its seat.
Shi Yuanzhi stood beside it and reached out to touch one of the smooth ropes, his fingertips gently rubbing the hemp fibers.
The Grand Madam had had this swing made while she was still alive, saying that it was for Shi Huai.
When she was dying, she had held his hand and said something he still remembered clearly to this day.
“Your wife is no kindhearted woman. Keep a close eye on her. Don’t let her harm Huai’er.”
At the time, he had thought the Grand Madam was overthinking things. No matter what Madam Liu was like, surely she would never go so far as to harm a child.
But after what had happened with that bowl of lotus-seed soup, he realized that he had been wrong—spectacularly wrong.
Shi Yuanzhi released the rope, turned, and walked toward the main courtyard.
His footsteps were light, making almost no sound against the flagstones. The moonlight stretched his shadow long and thin, like the shadow of a lonely wandering spirit.
The main courtyard was already dark, its lights extinguished.
Shi Yuanzhi pushed open the door to the bedchamber. By the moonlight shining through the window, he saw that Madam Liu was already lying in bed, facing the wall with her back to him, perfectly still.
He did not light a lamp, nor did he get into bed. He merely sat in the chair by the window, resting both hands on its arms as he stared blankly at the moon outside.
Madam Liu was not asleep. Her eyes were open, fixed on the wall beside the bed, her ears pricked as she listened to Shi Yuanzhi’s every movement.
She heard him enter. She heard him sit down in the chair. She heard the faintest of sighs escape him.
That sigh was like a needle piercing her heart. It hurt, and it left a numb ache behind.
She waited for Shi Yuanzhi to speak. She waited for him to question her, to lose his temper, to yank away her quilt and force her to get up and face him.
But Shi Yuanzhi said nothing. He simply sat there in silence, so quiet that it was as if there were no one else in the room.
After waiting for some time, Madam Liu could bear it no longer. She abruptly rolled over and looked toward the indistinct figure seated by the window.
“My lord, what exactly do you want? If you’re going to kill me, then kill me. If you’re going to punish me, then punish me. Just get it over with. What is this silence supposed to mean? Are you trying to drive me to my death?”
Her voice sounded especially shrill in the darkness, nearly tearing through the stillness of the night.
Shi Yuanzhi did not move. He continued gazing at the moon outside.
His voice was so calm that it hardly sounded as if he were speaking to his wife. Rather, he seemed to be talking to himself.
“My lady, how do you think we ended up like this?”
The question left Madam Liu stunned. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but had no idea where to begin.
Lying in bed, she stared up at the rafters. Their carved patterns appeared and vanished in the moonlight.
“I don’t know. You’re asking the wrong person, my lord. You should ask that fine son of yours.”
At the words “fine son,” the corner of Shi Yuanzhi’s mouth twitched.
“Shi Huai truly is a fine son—far better than I ever imagined. It’s a pity that I, as his father, am not worthy of him.”
There was bitterness in his voice, like the taste of decades-old vinegar, so sour it made his teeth ache.
Madam Liu was momentarily left speechless. She abruptly sat up, and the quilt slipped from her shoulders, revealing the nightclothes beneath.
“My lord, what are you saying? If you’re not worthy to be his father, then who is? You raised him for twelve years. You fed him, clothed him, and paid for his education. In what way have you failed to be his father?”
Shi Yuanzhi finally turned his head and looked at Madam Liu’s indistinct silhouette in the darkness.
“My lady, do you truly think I deserve to call myself his father? A man who left his newborn son in a side courtyard to await death—is he worthy?”
Madam Liu’s lips trembled several times before she finally forced out, “He’s your son. Raise him however you want. What does any of that have to do with me?”
When Shi Yuanzhi heard this, he suddenly laughed.
The sound was not loud, but in the silence of the night, it was painfully jarring.
“Yes, it has nothing to do with you. But he is my son, so it has everything to do with me.”
“I owe him a debt I can never repay in this lifetime.”
His words made Madam Liu feel increasingly irritated. She reached up and pulled the quilt over her shoulders, her voice thick with impatience.
“My lord, are you staying up in the middle of the night just to discuss your son with me?”
“If there’s nothing else, I’m going to sleep. I have to get up early tomorrow to prepare embroidery thread for Youlan.”
With that, she lay down, turned her back to him, pulled the quilt up to her chin, and closed her eyes.
By the window, Shi Yuanzhi looked at the tightly bundled figure beneath the quilt. The corner of his mouth moved faintly.
He remembered how, when they had first married, Madam Liu would wait every night until he was in bed before going to sleep herself. She had even needed to rest her head on his arm in order to fall asleep.
Back then, he had thought his life was complete. He had married the finest woman in the world.
But now?
She could not even be bothered to look at him.
He sat by the window while she lay in bed.
There was less than a zhang between them, yet it felt as though a thousand mountains and ten thousand rivers lay between them.
Shi Yuanzhi remained seated by the window for the entire night.
He sat until the candle burned out, until the moon sank beyond the horizon, until the eastern sky revealed its first pale hint of dawn.
When he finally stood, both his legs were numb. He had to brace himself against the edge of the table and wait a long while before he could move again.
He walked out of the bedchamber and into the courtyard, stopping beneath the old locust tree.
The morning wind blew in from the east, making the hem of his robe snap and billow. The white strands at his temples stood out starkly in the dawn light.
A maid came down the corridor carrying a basin of washing water. When she saw him standing in the courtyard, she jumped in fright, nearly losing her grip on the bronze basin.
“My lord, why are you up so early? I’ll go prepare breakfast for you.”
Shi Yuanzhi waved a hand, saying nothing, and turned toward the study.
After walking a few steps, he stopped and glanced back at the already closed door of the main courtyard.
The door panels gleamed a dull red in the morning light, and beads of dew still clung to the bronze rings.
Suddenly, he remembered the day he had married Madam Liu.
The door had been covered in bright red wedding characters, and the courtyard had been filled with banquet tables.
The laughter of the guests had continued from morning until night.
Back then, he had thought it was the best day of his life.
But looking back now, there had been nothing special about that day. It was an utterly ordinary day, no different from today.
He was young then, and did not yet know that one wrong decision could take a lifetime to repay.
Shi Yuanzhi withdrew his gaze and turned into the study. The door closed behind him with a dull thud.
He sat down behind the writing desk, picked up his brush, and spread out a fresh sheet of xuan paper. After a moment’s thought, he began to write a letter.
It was addressed to Shi Yuanping.
