She’d been busy all day yesterday and slept late, yet Jiang Nong still woke up fully refreshed at six ke past the hour of Mao. Eyes still closed, she tried to stretch her arms and turn over.
She couldn’t move.
Opening her eyes, it took her a moment to remember—she was married again.
Half of Yu Lingxin’s body was draped over her, his face buried in the hollow of her neck, pinning her down.
When she stirred, his lashes trembled against her skin, tickling.
He must not have slept well in days—alone here, without support. Jiang Nong remembered he used to be the first to arrive at the academy. She couldn’t bear to wake him. She stayed still, patting his back gently like soothing a child, letting him sleep more soundly.
It was boring—keeping someone company while they slept, not daring to move.
She stared at the canopy above. The gold-and-red curtains hurt her eyes. She wound a strand of his hair around her finger, curling it up and letting it loose again, over and over.
At least his body temperature was neither too cold nor too hot now—just slightly warmer than hers, comfortable to lean against.
She had the sudden feeling that Yu Lingxin was like an animal with no body heat of its own—whatever temperature it touched, it became that temperature. When he came in from outside, he was cool; pressed against her, he matched her warmth.
Gradually, voices sounded outside the hall. She vaguely heard an older woman asking: “Are they up yet?”
After another half-hour, the question came again. Only then did Yu Lingxin slowly stir, rubbing against her neck. Jiang Nong thought he was about to get up, but after waiting a long time, he still hadn’t moved—still lying on top of her.
Daylight streamed through the crimson gauze curtains, already high in the sky. She really couldn’t lie there any longer. She moved his head off her and shifted her stiff body.
Yu Lingxin suddenly took her hand, interlacing their fingers. Propping himself up on his elbow, he said hoarsely: “Sorry, Sister—I think I overslept.”
His hair, messed up from her playing with it while he slept, now stuck up in all directions. After a long moment, he finally opened his eyes, looking like a tousled little puppy.
Jiang Nong’s heart thumped. She really found him endearing and couldn’t resist reaching out to ruffle his face.
He nuzzled against her palm.
“You can lie down a bit longer,” she said, unable to scold him. She rose to leave—but her hand was pulled back again.
Yu Lingxin pleaded: “Sister—could I have a kiss before you go?”
Jiang Nong hesitated. His voice dropped, softer, protesting weakly: “But we’re already married… isn’t this allowed?”
“Fine, fine.” Jiang Nong cut him off.
She thought: he does have a point—they’re married, and it’s not as if she dislikes him. Other intimacies would come eventually anyway. Her resistance came from the memory of the other Yu Lingxin. She needed time to accept this life’s Yu Lingxin being close to her.
He smiled and leaned his face in. She’d expected something much bolder—he’d begged so pitifully—but it was just a soft kiss on her cheek. Then he looked at her shyly.
A pure, beautiful kiss—as light as a goldfish swishing its tail in the water, sending up a tiny ripple. And that small ripple struck Jiang Nong’s heart just right, churning up waves far more powerful. She could hear her own heart pounding fiercely.
When she stopped resisting, she fell into an inescapable spiral—she kept falling for the same Yu Lingxin she’d loved when her heart first stirred.
He seemed different now, too. She’d taught him so much, read so many books with him, spoken countless words with him, gotten to know him better. So now he carried more of the qualities she loved—traits she had left her mark on.
Jiang Nong’s face flushed scarlet. She shook off his hand and hurried away, calling for someone to help her wash.
Yu Lingxin watched her retreating figure, his smile fading.
Jiang Nong loved him—he should be happy. That had been his goal all along. But right now, all he felt was anger.
He was too clever; he knew with certainty that Jiang Nong loved another Yu Lingxin—the one with all the beautiful qualities she adored: kind, innocent, shy, naive. That was a projection of her own ideal, a role he was playing. Not him—not the real person he was.
He had stolen his love and won a wife who didn’t love him.
But what did it matter?
Yu Lingxin couldn’t help but ask himself—wasn’t this exactly what he had planned to do? Did it really matter who she loved?
Even if she were given another hundred years, her preferences would never change.
From the moment she had softened and agreed to marry him, all her happiness and freedom had vanished along with her choice.
Yu Lingxin could guarantee that Jiang Nong’s remaining years would be filled with countless tears and hatred.
His silhouette flickered faintly behind the bed curtains, leisurely appraising Jiang Nong. His gaze was like a blade scraping bone—from top to bottom, inside and out, it traced every inch of her, from her delicate fingertips to each strand of hair, as if peeling flesh from bone and swallowing it all down, bloody and raw.
Sensing a scorching gaze upon her, Jiang Nong turned back. All she could see was Yu Lingxin watching her through the curtains, the faint curve of his lips just visible.
Like any affectionate newlywed couple, the husband gazes at his wife as she dresses. After a moment’s thought, she smiled back at him.
Her smile was especially lovely—her small face pale and luminous, her bright eyes curving into long crescent moons, her teeth white and even, peeking out from soft pink lips. Pretty eyes, pretty mouth, even the pert tip of her nose was pretty. When kissing her, one should start from the eyes and work down to the lips.
Yu Lingxin knew she couldn’t see him, so his gaze roamed freely across her face once more, finally lingering on her lips.
After the wedding, there was a seven-day honeymoon during which Yu Lingxin didn’t have to attend court—only handling urgent state affairs.
In truth, by the end of the day, Jiang Nong hadn’t seen a single memorial that required his approval. Yu Lingxin only spent the day accompanying her as she took over the inner court’s mundane affairs and organized the treasury.
In theory, her empress’s tally could also command some troops. But since even Yu Lingxin might not have that power, she suspected she wouldn’t either. Asking would only humiliate them both, so she tactfully avoided such topics.
In principle, the empress and emperor should reside in separate palaces. But Yu Lingxin kept hinting at his fears and clinging to her; in just a few words, he coaxed her into moving in with him.
The Court of the Imperial Treasury didn’t even offer a token protest about it being “contrary to propriety.” Jiang Nong guessed that Grand Tutor Lü and his faction deemed this puppet couple incapable of stirring up trouble, so they let them do as they pleased within the inner palace. Still, she was predisposed to distrust them—if they had protested, she’d have seen it as Lü’s hand reaching into the inner court.
In her past life, Jiang Nong had spent all three years in Tan’s palace confined to Yuluan Palace. At first, she hadn’t wanted to leave; later, too ill to rise from bed, she couldn’t. So she wasn’t familiar with the rest of the palace. It wasn’t until she reached Xuan Shi Hall that she realized its layout resembled Yuluan Palace from her past life—only Yuluan had been more lavish and bright, like a golden birdcage.
Even a plane tree stood outside the bedchamber window. She remembered watching it grow thicker and taller year by year; now it was only as thick as a man’s waist.
Yu Lingxin took her hand, smiling: “Sister, why aren’t you coming in? Have you changed your mind—don’t you want to live with me?”
Jiang Nong steadied herself. There were many similarly structured palaces in the royal compound—it didn’t have to be Yuluan Palace.
“Sister, the palace is vast. Shall I take you for a walk? Where would you like to go?”
Jiang Nong did want to find the place that had held her captive for three years. She nodded: “Let’s look around everywhere. The architecture here is quite different from Xi’s.”
Perhaps due to the climate, Tan’s buildings tended to be more solemn and heavy, while Xi’s were softer and more delicate.
Tan and Xi had similar layouts—both were expanded from former princely mansions based on the old Great Qi palace, differing only in size. The rear palace was mostly empty, occupied by the late emperor’s consorts. Paired with the autumn scenery, it felt desolate and bleak. Jiang Nong followed Yu Lingxin through nearly the entire inner palace but never found the one she was looking for.
Night had fallen. Lanterns were lit across the grounds, glowing like golden persimmons.
They returned to Xuan Shi Hall, where the Imperial Kitchen had already prepared their evening meal.
Yu Lingxin was very attentive, wiping her hands for her. His slightly rough fingers brushed across her palm. Jiang Nong flinched, still uncomfortable, and instinctively withdrew: “I’ll do it myself—don’t let anyone see.”
Even in her fussiest moments, she’d never let a servant wash her hands for her. Yu Lingxin serving her like this—already lacking dignity in the palace—would only make the servants laugh at him too.
But Yu Lingxin persistently held her hand, carefully wiping each finger clean, refusing: “I want you to be happy—to live comfortably every day. But I don’t know how to do it, so I’m learning little by little. If I can see you happy because of my care, that will be the best thing for me.”
No one had ever said such words to Jiang Nong before.
Not “I want you to be happy.”
Her mother always told her to be ambitious, to help Jiang Biao. Her father—she could count the words he’d spoken to her since birth on one hand.
Moved, she mimicked Yu Lingxin’s gesture when no one was looking—pressed her forehead briefly against his chest, then pulled away as if nothing had happened.
Yu Lingxin’s steps faltered for a moment before he caught up.
Still unable to let go of Yuluan Palace, Jiang Nong hesitated over dinner, then probed: “There are so many palaces—I can hardly remember all their names. Where exactly is Yuluan Palace? In the northwest corner, or the southeast?”
“Yuluan Palace? There’s no such place. Are you misremembering, Sister?” Yu Lingxin smiled at her indulgently. “If you like the name, we could rename another hall. How about Xuan Shi Hall? From now on, we’ll live in ‘Yuluan Palace’?”
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