“Look what you’ve done!”
Shen Zhixing strode into the main hall and slapped a crumpled note onto the table.
Shi Lingyi set down her book and picked up the note, unfolding it.
“The Huai Bei grain ledger is in my hands—Shi Huai.”
Her pupils contracted sharply. Her fingers slowly tightened on the paper, wrinkling the thin note into deep creases.
She raised her head and looked at Shen Zhixing’s face, twisted with rage. Only after a moment of silence did she speak.
“What did he say to you?”
“What did he say? He said he was going to investigate the businesses I’ve been running in Huai Bei!”
Shen Zhixing threw down the object he had been clutching, his fingers trembling uncontrollably.
“If the court finds out about those dealings, even my father won’t be able to protect me!”
Shi Lingyi looked at him. “What exactly have you done in Huai Bei?”
Her question left Shen Zhixing momentarily speechless. His expression shifted several times before he finally forced out, “What’s it to you what I’ve done? You should be explaining yourself first! Why are you trying to harm Shi Huai?”
The corner of Shi Lingyi’s mouth twitched faintly. She rose from the couch and walked over to Shen Zhixing, tilting her head back to look at him.
They stood less than a foot apart—close enough to see the bloodshot veins in each other’s eyes.
“Everything I do is for this family. You think I don’t know about the women you keep outside, or the shady businesses you run in Huai Bei?”
Shen Zhixing’s face went completely white.
Shi Lingyi looked at him.
“I simply chose not to say anything. That doesn’t mean I didn’t know. I kept silent because I still wanted to go on living with you. I still wanted to bear a son for the Shen family and carry on its line.”
“But what about you? Where do you leave me in all this?”
Shen Zhixing’s lips trembled. He reached out, as if to take Shi Lingyi’s hand.
She pulled her hand away and stepped back two paces, widening the distance between them.
Her voice was cold as ice in the dead of winter. “Go back. I’ll handle this matter.”
Shen Zhixing stared at her for a long while before turning and walking out of the main hall. His footsteps were far heavier than when he had arrived.
The hall fell silent once more—so silent that the crackling of the candlewick could be heard.
Standing in the candlelight, Shi Lingyi still clutched the note in her hand, crushing it into a wrinkled mess.
She walked to the dressing table and sat down, looking at her own face in the bronze mirror. It was so pale that not a trace of color remained.
The candlelight flickered across her features, making them appear and disappear.
She remembered the sight of Shi Huai as a child, when Grand Madam had carried him out of the side courtyard.
He had been so tiny, with a wrinkled little face, as though he had been abandoned by someone.
No—not as though. He had been abandoned.
Back then, she had thought the child would not live long. Once he died, the marquis’s estate would belong to her again.
But not only had the child survived, he had grown more handsome and more accomplished with every passing year.
From an infant so ugly he had been nauseating to look at, he had grown into the Third Scholar whom everyone in the capital praised.
And she had been forced into marriage. The husband she had chosen only after painstakingly weighing every option, Shen Zhixing, kept seven or eight women outside, yet refused even to look at her.
In this household, she lived like a decoration.
Shi Lingyi placed the note on the table and picked up a comb, drawing it through her hair stroke by stroke.
Her movements were slow. The teeth slid from root to tip with a faint, whispering rustle.
The woman in the mirror looked haggard. Dark circles lay beneath her eyes, and the lines beside her mouth were far deeper than they had been last year. She looked more than ten years older than her true age.
Why should this be?
Shi Huai was a young Third Scholar, fêted by everyone in the capital, while she could only endure day after day in this cold household.
Shi Lingyi abruptly tightened her grip on the comb.
Its teeth pierced her palm, making her wince.
She loosened her hand and set the comb down. Then she picked up the note and read it once more before rising and walking to the candle stand. She held the paper close to the flame.
The edges curled. The fire licked across the page, consuming the words little by little.
She released it, and the note fluttered to the floor, where it became a small pile of ash.
The ashes scattered beside the candle stand. Shi Lingyi stared at the black powder for a long time before finally standing.
She walked to the window and pushed it open. The night wind rushed in, scattering the lingering smell of charred paper.
“Someone come.”
The maid outside pushed open the door and entered, her head lowered and her voice trembling. “What are your orders, Madam?”
“Tell the gatekeeper to have a carriage ready first thing tomorrow morning. I’m going back to the marquis’s residence.”
The maid froze for a moment, then glanced up at her before hurriedly lowering her gaze again.
“Madam, you only just returned from the marquis’s residence a few days ago. If you go back again now, Master—”
“I’ll explain things to him myself. Just pass on the order.”
The maid acknowledged her and backed out of the room.
Shi Lingyi stood by the window, her fingers slowly tightening around the frame until her nails dug into the wood, leaving a faint mark.
Wasn’t Shi Huai planning to investigate the ledger?
Then let him investigate.
She wanted to see exactly what a mere young man who had just passed the Third Scholar examination intended to use against the Shen family.
After leaving the main hall, Shen Zhixing did not return to his room. Instead, he sat in the study for the entire night.
A copy of the Spring and Autumn Annals lay open halfway across the desk. Candlelight cast his shadow onto the wall, motionless as a carved relief.
He remembered the first time he had gone to Huai Bei to discuss business.
At the time, he had only just passed the provincial examination. He was full of youthful ambition, convinced that he was the most promising man under Heaven.
His father, Vice Minister Shen, had sat in his study and pushed a sheet of paper covered in names toward him.
“These people all have influence in Huai Bei. Go and cultivate their acquaintance. You’ll find it useful someday.”
He had gone, carrying several thousand taels of silver and a cartload of gifts. One by one, he had paid visits to those men.
At the drinking tables, cups were raised and exchanged amid laughter and merriment. A single meal lasted three hours, and he had vomited three times.
Those men had clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Young Master Shen, you’re a man of great promise.”
“Vice Minister Shen has raised his son well.”
“If you ever need anything, just ask.”
He had thought they were merely being polite.
Only later did he realize that those words were not polite conversation.
They were transactions.
Using their connections, he had started a grain business, buying grain in Huai Bei and transporting it to the capital to sell.
Every shipment earned several times its original cost.
The profits were so enormous that his hands had trembled whenever he falsified the accounts.
Yet he could not stop.
The beautiful concubines people sent him cost money to maintain. Playing the grand gentleman in brothels and pleasure houses cost money to fund. Maintaining the Shen family’s lavish show of status cost money. Bribes and favors cost money too.
Money was needed everywhere.
His meager official salary and whatever support his family provided were not even enough to fill the gaps between his teeth.
Leaning back in his chair, Shen Zhixing covered his face with both hands and let out a muffled sigh.
Did Shi Huai truly have the ledger?
He did not dare to gamble on it.
