“Your father may not be able to help, but your father knows people who can.”
Shi Lingyi lifted her head and looked straight at Shi Yuanzhi. The certainty in her voice made him pause.
“Although Father no longer holds office in the court, you made many friends back then. Their disciples and former subordinates are spread throughout the government. If only they were willing to step forward, the Shen family’s troubles would be nothing.”
Shi Yuanzhi fell silent.
Looking at the pleading in his daughter’s eyes, he remembered her as a little girl, her hair tied into two tiny buns and a handful of sweets clutched in her hands.
Whenever she wanted something back then, she had looked at him in exactly the same way.
“Lingyi, tell me the truth. What exactly did Shen Zhixing do in Huaibei?”
Shi Lingyi’s fingers trembled faintly.
She lowered her head and stared at her hands resting on her knees, her voice barely above a whisper.
“He was dealing in grain in Huaibei, using some… methods that weren’t exactly proper.”
“Not exactly proper?” Shi Yuanzhi’s voice rose sharply.
“Explain yourself. What do you mean by ‘not exactly proper’? Tax evasion? Collusion between officials and merchants? Or something else?”
Shi Lingyi’s lips quivered several times, and her voice grew softer still.
“A little of all of them.”
Shi Yuanzhi shot to his feet. The chair scraped several steps backward with him and struck the bookshelf behind him with a dull thud.
Standing behind the writing desk, he looked down at his daughter. The expression on his face shifted from shock to anger, then from anger to exhaustion.
“You certainly married into a fine family. A truly fine family. What did Shen Zhixing say to me back then?”
“He said he would treat you well, manage the family business properly, and give you a good life. Is this the good life he promised?”
Tears spilled from Shi Lingyi’s eyes, one after another, landing on her knees.
She hastily wiped them away with the back of her hand, her voice breaking as she sobbed.
“Father, I’m already married. What else can I do? Divorce him? Where would I go after that? Back to the Marquis’s residence? If you’ll let me come home, I’ll come home—but what then?”
Shi Yuanzhi was rendered speechless. He opened his mouth as if to answer, but had no idea where to begin.
He stood there, watching his daughter sob uncontrollably, his heart twisting as though someone had seized it and wrung it hard.
He remained beside the chair for a long while. Then he abruptly turned away, presenting his back to Shi Lingyi. His voice was so hoarse it hardly sounded like his own.
“Go back for now. Let me think.”
Shi Lingyi raised her head and looked at her father’s back.
It seemed especially stooped now. His shoulders were no longer as straight as they had been in his youth, and the white at his temples gleamed painfully bright in the candlelight.
She rose from the chair, smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt, and bowed to Shi Yuanzhi before turning and leaving the study.
When she reached the door, she paused and glanced back at her father, who was still standing before the window.
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but when the words reached her lips, she felt that anything she said would be superfluous.
In the end, she merely closed the door softly. Her footsteps gradually faded down the corridor.
Shi Yuanzhi stood before the window, listening as those footsteps grew fainter and fainter. Only when they had vanished completely did he slowly turn around.
He looked at the closed door. In the candlelight, the grain of the wood resembled wrinkle after wrinkle.
He remembered the day he had married Shi Lingyi off. She had worn a bright red wedding dress and a phoenix crown, a round silk fan clutched in her hand. Standing at the doorway, she had turned back to look at him once.
He remembered that look to this day.
There had been anticipation in it, and reluctance, along with a trace of fear.
At the time, he had thought she was merely reluctant to leave home.
Only now did he understand that what she had feared was not leaving home, but not knowing what awaited her ahead.
Shi Yuanzhi walked back behind the writing desk and sat down. He picked up the brush on the table and wrote several characters on the paper, then crossed them out. He wrote again, only to cross them out once more. After repeating this several times, he finally tossed the brush aside and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.
Lingyi had asked him for help, but what could he do?
Which of those so-called old friends from the court still cared about him? Once a man was gone, the tea grew cold.
To those people, he—a marquis in name only—wasn’t worth a damn.
But if he refused to help, what would become of Lingyi?
If the Shen family fell, what would become of her?
She was a married woman. Where could she go?
Shi Yuanzhi’s thoughts churned like a pot of boiling porridge.
Madam Liu was confined to Qingzhi Courtyard and could barely look after herself.
Shi Huai had broken with him, and every word he spoke cut like a knife.
Shi Youlan was caught between them, torn in both directions, and had grown so thin that her chin had turned sharp.
It seemed that in all his life, he had never once done anything right.
A fine drizzle began to fall from the sky.
Qinghe opened an oil-paper umbrella and handed it over. Shi Huai accepted it without opening it, turning it once in his hand.
Rainwater ran down the umbrella ribs and dripped onto the bluestone path, splashing into tiny ripples.
Li Yi, riding at the head of the group, looked back at Shi Huai, then glanced at the sky. His brows drew together in a deep frown.
“Young Master, this rain doesn’t look like it will stop anytime soon. Why don’t we wait another day?”
Shi Huai shook his head, opened the oil-paper umbrella, and rested it against his shoulder before mounting his horse.
“The roads will be quieter in the rain.”
The procession traveled south along the official road.
The rain fell in a fine mist, like strands of cow’s hair, leaving a cool sensation against their faces.
The wheat fields on either side of the road looked like an ink-wash painting blurred by water, while the distant villages had become indistinct clusters of gray.
Qinghe lifted the carriage curtain a crack and peered outside. She could see nothing clearly through the rain and mist, so she let it fall again.
Tangerine poked its head out of the travel chest and pawed at Qinghe’s sleeve, letting out a plaintive meow.
Qinghe lowered her head to look at it.
“Bored too?”
Tangerine meowed again, then ducked back into the chest, leaving only its tail outside, swishing back and forth.
After traveling for roughly two hours, the rain gradually grew heavier, and the road conditions worsened.
The official road had long fallen into disrepair, pocked with holes and ruts.
Rainwater had collected in the hollows, making it impossible to judge their depth. Whenever a horse’s hoof landed in one, muddy water splashed everywhere.
Li Yi urged his horse closer to Shi Huai and called out over the rain, “Young Master, there’s a town ahead. Should we stop and take shelter?”
Shi Huai wiped the rain from his face and looked in the direction Li Yi was pointing. Through the curtain of rain, he could vaguely make out the dark gray outlines of rooftops.
“Let’s go. We’ll rest in the town.”
The town was small, with only a single main street. Most of the shops along it were closed, and rainwater streamed from the eaves, gathering into a muddy brook outside the doors.
Li Yi reined in his horse at the entrance to the town and glanced back at the procession.
“Young Master, I’ll go find an inn. Wait here.”
