The letter began with the words, “To my Second Brother,” but when Shi Yuanzhi reached those four characters, he suddenly stopped and stared at them for a long while.
Although he and Shi Yuanping were brothers by blood, the total number of words they had exchanged over the years was probably less than what he said to a colleague in a single day.
It was not that they had never had the chance. They simply did not want to speak, and did not know what to say.
A wall stood between the brothers.
It had been built when they were children, and Shi Yuanzhi had laid every brick himself, one after another.
Shi Yuanzhi continued writing. He described yesterday’s visit from the three madams, Madam Liu’s reaction, and his conversation with Shi Huai.
When he reached the words, “Huai'er said I am a Marquis in name only,” the tip of his brush paused. A small black blot of ink spread across the paper.
Shi Yuanzhi stared at the blot for a long while. He did not correct it and continued writing.
When he finished the letter, he folded it, slipped it into an envelope, and wrote the words “Shi Yuanping, to be opened personally” on it. Then he called the gatekeeper and told him to send someone reliable to deliver it to the estate.
The gatekeeper took the letter, glanced at the name on the envelope, acknowledged the order, and turned to leave.
Shi Yuanzhi stood in the study doorway, watching the gatekeeper’s retreating figure. That indescribable feeling surfaced in his heart once more.
He did not know why he had written to Shi Yuanping, nor what would happen after sending the letter.
He only felt that he ought to write it.
Some things had to be made clear.
They could not go on muddling through like this.
Shi Yuanzhi returned to the study and sat down in his chair. Leaning back, he closed his eyes.
His mind began churning with all kinds of tangled thoughts again.
Shi Huai’s face, Madam Liu’s face, Grand Madam’s face, Shi Yuanping’s face—one after another, they flashed before his eyes like scenes from a revolving lantern.
He suddenly remembered what Shi Huai had said:
“When Father has the time, you might as well find out who Madam exchanged letters with, whom she met, and what she said before the three madams came today.”
Shi Yuanzhi opened his eyes and stared at the rafters overhead.
The patterns on the beams were clear in the morning light, running in neat lines as though they had been carved there.
He had never thought there was anything particularly beautiful about them.
But today, as he looked at them, he suddenly felt that each pattern resembled a mark left behind by the passage of time.
Some deep, some shallow; some broad, some fine. They recorded the centuries of history belonging to this residence.
The day Shi Yuanzhi’s letter arrived at the estate, Shi Yuanping was in the courtyard pruning an old plum tree.
He wore a gray-blue Daoist robe, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. In his hand was a pair of pruning shears. With a sharp snip, he cut away a branch that had grown out of place.
The branch fell at his feet. It still bore several half-open buds, which rolled twice through the dirt and became coated in dust.
The servant who had delivered the letter stood beneath the moon gate, holding the envelope up in both hands and scarcely daring to breathe. He had noticed that Second Master’s expression had changed after reading it.
Shi Yuanping folded the letter, slipped it into his sleeve, and handed the pruning shears to the servant beside him. Then he bent down and picked up the broken branch, turning it over in his hand.
The buds on it had already begun to wilt, and the edges of the petals had taken on a faint yellow tinge.
He looked at them twice, then tossed the branch aside and dusted his hands.
“Prepare the carriage. I’m returning to the Marquis’s residence.”
The servant froze for a moment before hurrying off to make the arrangements.
By the time the sound of hooves rang out at the estate gate, Shi Yuanping had already changed his clothes.
He wore an indigo brocade robe, secured at the waist with a black sash. His hair was tied up with a white jade hairpin, and he looked considerably more spirited than usual.
The carriage traveled along the official road for more than half an hour. After entering the city, it went around Chang’an Street several times.
The coachman assumed that Second Master had some business to attend to.
Only after several circuits did he realize that Second Master was merely stalling for time.
Through a gap in the curtain, Shi Yuanping watched the familiar streets outside. His face revealed nothing.
At last, when the carriage stopped before the gates of the Yongning Marquis’s residence, the sky had already begun to darken.
When Old Liu saw Shi Yuanping jump down from the carriage, he paused in surprise, then hurried forward with a broad smile.
“Second Master, you’re back? The Marquis has been waiting for you in the study all day.”
Shi Yuanping nodded without saying anything more. He walked straight through the front courtyard toward the study in the main compound. The maids and servants he passed along the way all stepped aside to let him through.
The study door was half open, and Shi Yuanzhi sat behind the writing desk.
Hearing footsteps, he raised his head. When he saw Shi Yuanping standing in the doorway, the indigo brocade of his robe appeared especially somber in the fading light.
“Come in. Close the door.”
Shi Yuanping entered the study and pulled the door shut behind him. As the panels came together with a soft click, it sounded as though something had been sealed outside.
He sat down in the chair opposite Shi Yuanzhi.
The brothers sat facing each other across the writing desk, neither of them speaking first.
The study was so quiet that they could hear the last few chirps of the sparrows in the tree outside as they returned to their nests.
Shi Yuanzhi’s fingers tapped absently against the desktop twice. His gaze settled on his younger brother’s lean face.
He suddenly realized that Shi Yuanping had aged more quickly than he had. Though he was several years younger, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were already deeper.
“You read the letter?”
Shi Yuanping nodded. He took the envelope from his sleeve and placed it on the desk. His fingers rested lightly on it for a moment before withdrawing.
“I did.”
“What do you think?”
Shi Yuanzhi’s question was blunt.
He did not beat around the bush or offer any preamble. He simply hurled it straight at him.
Shi Yuanping was silent for a moment, his gaze falling to the letter on the desk.
He seemed to be weighing his words—or perhaps sorting through the tangled thoughts in his mind.
“Does Big Brother want the truth or a lie?”
Shi Yuanzhi was momentarily choked by the question, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Of course I want the truth. I called you here to hear the truth. I have plenty of people around me to tell lies; I don’t need one more.”
Shi Yuanping looked at his elder brother’s face, marked by irritation and exhaustion, and a strange, indescribable feeling suddenly welled up inside him.
The two brothers had never been close. Between them stood Grand Madam’s favoritism, the distinction between legitimate and secondary birth, and too many things that could neither be explained nor spoken of.
Yet at that moment, sitting in this study across the writing desk from his brother, Shi Yuanping suddenly felt that Big Brother looked much older than before—so old that it stirred a pang of sorrow in him.
“Big Brother, why do you think Sister-in-law would do this?”
Shi Yuanzhi froze. His brows drew together into a tight knot.
“How should I know? If I knew, would I still be asking you?”
Shi Yuanping did not answer at once.
He rose and walked to the window, pushing it open to let in the evening breeze.
The wind carried autumn’s characteristic chill and stirred the letter on the desk, making the paper flutter faintly.
“Big Brother, have you ever considered that Sister-in-law did these things not because she hates Huai'er, but because she is afraid?”
Shi Yuanzhi’s fingers went still.
He looked up at his younger brother’s back as he stood by the window, the indigo robe almost blending into the gathering night.
“Afraid? Afraid of what? Huai'er is only a child. What could she possibly be afraid of?”
Shi Yuanping leaned against the window frame, folding his arms across his chest. His gaze rested on his brother’s face, carrying the unmistakable scrutiny of someone asking, Do you truly not know?
“Big Brother, think about it. What does the Marquis’s residence need most right now?”
Shi Yuanzhi answered without a moment’s hesitation:
“Money.”
