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Published at 4th of October 2023 12:13:32 PM


Chapter 56

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His wife really was busy.

Xia Yujin idled about on the sidelines for a moment, then leisurely left.

He passed through the covered walkway near the rear garden and saw Liu Xiyin’s soft yellow silk over-robes, embroidered with vines, accompanied by Hongying. She was distractedly sitting in the pavilion, looking at the rain falling into the pond, drop by drop, washing clean the green and young lotuses and creating ripples. Her reddened eyes were laced with uncontainable grief.

Xia Yujin didn’t want to meddle, but when he passed by he smelled the rich perfume she was wearing, something like peony and jasmine blended together with plenty of other smells he couldn’t define, tacky and cloying. His nose itched and he couldn’t hold back a few sneezes.

Liu Xiyin heard. Pulled out of her reverie, she hurriedly stood up and respectfully saluted him, lowering her head to say in her soft voice, “Greetings, Your Highness.”

Her perfume wafted out even more when her clothes moved. There was no avoiding it, since she had already saluted him; rubbing his nose, Xia Yujin gave her a forced smile. “Your perfume is a little thick.”

Liu Xiyin immediately reddened, embarrassed. “I probably sprayed too much this morning. I’ve had a cold for the past two days, my nose is stuffy and I can’t smell anything.” She sent Hongying a glare full of reproach. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hongying hurriedly apologized. “I saw that you wanted to wear those clothes, miss, and that you wouldn’t go out of the house, so I didn’t think there was any harm in it. That’s why I overlooked it. Please forgive me.”

“Useless girl,” Liu Xiyin sighed. “You’ll have His Highness mocking us.”

“No matter.” Xia Yujin accepted her praising glance and tone extremely willingly. Adding the fact that she had sensibly stopped monopolizing Ye Zhao, he was in a very high spirits. Gazing at her, who was increasingly pleasant to his eyes, he started reassuring her. “Your cousin has some perfume of the best quality here that the Empress Dowager bestowed her. I’ll ask her to take it out of storage for you. She doesn’t like cosmetics anyway. It’s a pity not to use it.”

Liu Xiyin gave him a close-lipped smile and modestly said, “Ah-Zhao is busy with official business, how could we disturb her?”

Remembering a very important question, Xia Yujin, bewildered, asked her, “How can you call your older cousin Ah-Zhao? Doesn’t it sound improper?”

“She’s disguised herself as a man since our childhood, so we used to call her Zhao-biaoge. It’s a difficult habit to break, even if she wears women’s clothing now… But if it offends you, Your Highness, I can change it.”

“It’s not a problem. You’re from the same family, call her however you feel comfortable to.” Xia Yujin understood this kind of thing very well. “With that face of hers, I would have trouble calling her ‘cousin’.”[1]

“You jest, Your Highness.” Liu Xiyin looked up at him, her smile still in place, as though her melancholy had been swept away thanks to him. Her beautiful face outshone any beauty of the scenery; she could topple down cities and nations, so gorgeous no one could look straight at her.

As Xia Yujin faced this devastating beauty, the babbling nonsense his good-for-nothing friends had spewed a few days ago lingered in his ears. For fear of losing his grasp on his clear mind and starting to entertain some chaotic thoughts that might provoke his wife’s anger, and because her perfume really was too cloying, he briefly carried on the conversation then hastily slipped away.

Liu Xiyin followed his retreating silhouette with her eyes. On her face, her warm, loving smile suddenly turned ice-cold, hatred sprouted, more quickly than weeds, and her eyes flashed, like a brightly colored viper darting out its head from a cave. There was no gentleness, only bitter resentment, as she fixedly stared at his back. She clenched her fists, her long fingernails digging in her cuffs, as though they were jabbing and piercing through her enemy.

Hongying, in solidarity against her enemy, looked at Xia Yujin’s bouncing steps as he left and resolutely made a sound of contempt. “Miss,” she urged, “don’t mind that jerk, let’s go back inside…”

In Wutong Courtyard a fiery brazier burned.

Liu Xiyin sent away the maids from the household of the prince of Nanping, closed the doors and the windows, changed into identical soft yellow clothes, then used sharp scissors to cut the clothes she’d worn today into strips of fabric. She poured over oil from the lamps and had Hongying cautiously burn them in the brazier. The flames quickly engulfed the satin, emitting a thick, acrid smell, and the fabric soon turned into scorched shreds. Using a cotton sack to pick them up, she then hid them in a corner, waiting for an opportunity to step outside and throw them away the next day.

Once Hongyin had burned them all, she took in the smell in the air and embarrassedly turned towards her mistress.

Liu Xiyin faintly smiled. “Find some clothes from the same type of fabric in the luggage and burn it, then say it was an accident.”

Hongying voiced her agreement and started rummaging through the trunks.

Liu Xiyin came up behind her and, with the tip of her fingers, gently took out red wedding robes of the same make from the bottom of a trunk. She slowly spread it over her lap: there was a phoenix spreading its wings, embroidered in thick golden thread, vivid and lifelike, as though it was about to fly out from the fiery background. There were also a pair of mandarin ducks playing in the water and twin lotus flowers on one stalk,[2] exquisitely outlined in multicolored thread. Every detail showed the dexterity and dedication which the wearer of the wedding robes had put into embroidering them.

“Miss! Have you lost your mind?” Hongying desperately grappled for them.

“So be it.” Liu Xiyin watched the wedding robes burn. She showed no regret, only a twisted smile. “I will not have the opportunity to wear them again in this life.”

Remembering how warm and gentle she used to be, Hongying could hardly bear it.

In the darkness, there were only moths, lunging for the flames.

That night, Xia Yujin suddenly fainted in his room.

When Ye Zhao heard of it, she let go of the sword in her hands and lunged for the main room, almost sprouting wings. She hurried to the house of the imperial physician, firmly dragging Meng Xingde from his young concubine’s bed, then hurried back so that he could take her husband’s pulse.

Xia Yujin had just woken up when the physician arrived, feeling a little weak, and was drinking bird nest congee while lying on his bed. When he saw Meng Xingde arrive, he greeted him with the ease of longstanding familiarity and obediently held out his arm.

Meng Xingde took his pulse carefully. Except from a peak of internal heat, he found nothing wrong, in spite of the general’s murderous gaze at his side. Mumbling to himself, he was then forced to declare that an excessive enjoyment of wine and women had exhausted his strength and that he must lie in bed and cultivate his strength for a time. The company of women, wine, and work were inadvisable; after nursing his health for a few months, he would get better. He wrote out a prescription for tonic foods as well and gave careful instructions. Ye Zhao kept nervously nodding and wrote down all of the doctor’s orders. She ordered people to boil the medicine, moved all the documents from her study to the bedroom, suspended her training, and personally attended him at all moments, except for morning court.

Xia Yujin couldn’t understand why he had to practice asceticism and cultivate his moral character, and why exercising for health had instead caused him trouble. But he had a sickly constitution, and though he had to show moderation in everything, he still had to put up a good front: even if, within three nights spent at a brothel, he only slept with their best prostitute once, he insisted on saying he’d slept with her three times in one night, boasting that he had no equals when it came to his dissolute behavior. And now that he wasn’t so focused on alcohol and women anymore, there was no one to believe him. The seed of the problem sowed by his former behavior was simply suddenly popping out.

Consort Dowager An was so distressed that she burst into tears, and immediately had Ye Zhao come to her for a lecture, telling her stop her husband from losing himself sexual intercourse and help him nurture his health. In the future, she also ought to fix her attention on him: he wasn’t allowed to touch women for three months. Ye Zhao’s worry for Xia Yujin’s health was no less than hers and she agreed at once. She handled his visiting pleasure houses and meeting with women as a military mission of the utmost importance, and dispatched guards to keep watch everywhere, lest he relapsed in his depraved ways during his recovery.

Xia Yujin felt that this whole damn thing was nonsense, but he couldn’t figure out the cause. Faced with his mother’s tears, however, he was forced to dubiously comply. His wife was at his pillow every day, and he could see but not touch. Wishing he could use force but knowing he was no match for her, he felt despondent.

The Manhua flowers at the head of his bed, which could pacify a fretful mind and help dreaming became his best companions.

Ah, sleep! He couldn’t yearn if he was asleep.

[1 ↑] More specifically, 表姐 biǎojiě, “female cousin (from the mother’s side of the family)” — the female equivalent of the “biaoge” Xiyin said she used to call Ye Zhao when she thought she was a boy. A dig at Ye Zhao’s lack of femininity.

[2 ↑] Both symbols of love, couples, and marriage: mandarin ducks mate for life, and the lotus flowers are pretty self-explanatory.




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