“Jiang Nong…”
“What?”
“Jiang Nong, Jiang Nong.”
“What, what?”
“Jiang Nong, Jiang Nong, Jiang Nong…”
Whenever Yu Lingxin saw her, he would call her name—without saying anything else. Jiang Nong grew annoyed by his constant calling and stopped responding. She knelt on her cushion, busy with her own affairs. Yu Lingxin, not minding the dirt on the floor, lay down casually, rested his head on her lap, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pressed his face against her lower belly.
As if he had nothing better to do—calling her name was merely to say it, to draw her attention to himself.
She had only said she liked his eyes, and now he was shamelessly clinging to her, unbearably needy.
By the time Jiang Nong finished reading twenty pages, she realized Yu Lingxin had fallen asleep with his arms around her waist.
She raised her hand and stroked his hair—cool as satin—her fingers sliding to behind his ear, pressing gently.
They say stubborn people have stiff hair and stiff spots behind their ears—ancient wisdom at work.
Yu Lingxin’s hair was coarse, and the spot behind his ear was hard too. He was indeed a stubborn mule of a man.
He stirred at her touch, and Jiang Nong accommodated him, patting his back soothingly. He shifted for a moment, then fell back asleep.
She rubbed her eyes and continued reading.
Yu Lingxin lay there with his eyes wide open, his face pressed against her belly, feeling the warmth of her skin radiating through the fabric.
He hadn’t just woken up now, nor had he awakened when Jiang Nong touched his hair and the spot behind his ear. He had been awake the entire time, lying motionless against her, pretending to be asleep.
He had felt Jiang Nong’s hand glide through his hair and across his skin, sending a faint shiver through him.
He had also felt her pat his body gently, the same way she soothed Yu Lingyin.
The sharp, nagging pain that had always lingered at his neck grew fainter.
The hysterical memories blurred.
When a person is happy, pain fades.
“She likes me. Did you hear that?”
Yu Lingxin said it in his heart.
After a long while, a faint ripple surfaced.
“Mm.”
Someone answered him.
Jiang Nong moved to stroke Yu Lingxin’s hair again—as naturally as petting a little dog leaning against her—but just before her hand landed, she sensed something wrong and pulled it back.
She had been too intimate with Yu Lingxin lately.
No!
Jiang Nong’s heartbeat faltered. Why had she been indulging him, getting so close to him?
An answer was about to surface.
She seemed to be growing fond of Yu Lingxin again. But the moment that thought emerged, it was met not by the flutter of attraction, but by panic and fear.
It was like violating an untouchable taboo.
She liked someone violent, self-absorbed, cold-blooded, and ruthless…
Once that awareness struck, Jiang Nong couldn’t help but want to retreat.
Like a traveler in the dead of night wandering into a murky marsh glowing with an eerie green will-o’-the-wisps, surrounded by lush vines dangling skeletons with flickering phosphorescent flames. Knowing full well that moving forward would either sink into the mire or be bound by the vines—who wouldn’t want to turn back?
For Jiang Nong, liking the Yu Lingxin of now was like venturing into that very marsh.
The qualities Yu Lingxin possessed were the complete opposite of everything Jiang Nong pursued.
She only felt conflicted, dangerous. Every one of Yu Lingxin’s despicable traits was something she detested—yet with all those things she hated concentrated in one person, she still found herself going soft on him.
She needed to cool down.
Yu Lingxin only felt that the hand about to land on him had pulled away. Even when he pretended to wake up at the sound of her turning pages, her hand never came down to soothe him as it had before. His heart was lightly scratched—but soon, that petty sting was cast aside.
By evening, candlesticks around the hall were lit one by one. Servants filed in, the steaming heat of food mingling with the warm amber light, flowing like viscous honey in a dazzling halo.
Yu Lingxin pressed his forehead against Jiang Nong’s wrist and nuzzled it. But Jiang Nong didn’t gently tell him to stop sleeping because it was time for dinner—she simply pushed his head away in silence and went to wash her hands.
Yu Lingxin lay alone on the floor, his heart lurching. The earlier unease had not been his imagination. He hadn’t been asleep at all, yet it felt as though he’d woken from a long dream.
He was silent for a while, then called her name.
“…Jiang Nong.”
Not only did Jiang Nong not respond—she didn’t even spare him a glance.
Yu Lingxin’s throat tightened. He cleared it and tried again, unwilling to give up: “Jiang Nong, my head is hurting from hitting the floor tiles.”
Jiang Nong still ignored him.
Yu Lingxin’s expression turned cold, the light in his eyes gradually dimming.
It wasn’t his imagination. Jiang Nong had gone cold on him again—even colder than before. When she had truly hated him, her emotions had been intense, at least giving him some reaction. But now she was resistant, refusing all contact with him.
Jiang Nong had kissed his eye, given him a beautiful dream—and now she was taking it back, leaving him worse off than before.
He had been so happy over her single “I like”—when it was just a whim, another game she played with him.
Yu Lingxin pressed the spot over his heart, rose, and carried on as usual, as if nothing had happened.
Their meal was unusually quiet. Neither spoke—only the faint clink of bowls and chopsticks broke the silence.
Yu Lingxin ate a bit of greens, then set down his chopsticks. The sound of ceramic meeting wood was especially stark in the quiet room.
His gaze drifted, now and then, toward Jiang Nong.
Drawn by the sound, Jiang Nong couldn’t help but glance up. She saw that in his small bowl, the rice was only missing a corner the size of a chicken egg along the edge. The vegetables and meat were barely touched, and the soup was still full.
Even if he were an eighteen-year-old girl, such a meager appetite would be unreasonable.
“You…” One word escaped before she caught herself. Yu Lingxin’s eyelid twitched. Jiang Nong swallowed the question of whether he had lost his appetite, quickly pivoting: “Could you get me some more soup?”
Normally, Yu Lingxin would have asked if she didn’t have hands of her own. But now, he almost eagerly took the bowl from her, moving faster than the servant who had been about to reach for it—as if afraid that even a moment’s delay would render him useless to her.
The clay pot retained heat well, so the soup was still scalding. The thin Linglong porcelain didn’t insulate much. Yu Lingxin deliberately held the bowl in his palm for a moment before setting it beside her. As he withdrew his hand, his reddened palm passed briefly before Jiang Nong’s eyes.
She saw it, and suddenly lost her appetite.
Not from disgust—but from inner conflict. Two voices were fighting inside her.
One said: His hand is so red from the heat—how pitiful.
The other said: Don’t like him. Don’t like him. Don’t like him. And don’t care about him.
In the end, Jiang Nong steeled herself and looked away.
In the previous life, Yu Lingxin would have grabbed her wrist and demanded what she meant by this—was it fun to toy with him? Did she think she could treat him like a dog? Don’t go too far.
Don’t think you can have me in the palm of your hand. I am not someone to be swayed by anyone.
But now, at this moment, Yu Lingxin could no longer bring himself to say such harsh words. He even began to wonder if he had done something wrong—proof of how masterfully Jiang Nong had trained him.
A slap then a sweet date was crude, but undeniably effective. Even if Jiang Nong hadn’t meant it, hadn’t been trying to tame him at all—Yu Lingxin had already tamed himself.
In his eyes, Jiang Nong was a counterfeit good person, and a ten-out-of-ten bad woman.
The weather was still cold. Yu Lingxin went out alone for a few turns around the grounds—but this time, Jiang Nong didn’t come looking for him.
Jiang Nong was resisting him with all her heart. Yu Lingxin couldn’t truly grovel—at most, he could quietly show favor, or act a little frail, in hopes of winning her back.
That night, he draped his arm over Jiang Nong—and she pushed it away, turning her back to him. Yu Lingxin didn’t embarrass himself further by trying again.
They lay in stubborn silence, neither giving ground. Even Rong Mian and Xunliang could sense the shift in their relationship.
It was as if two layers of gauze stood between them—hazy, unable to see each other clearly.
Yu Lingxin dragged a vase across the floor near Jiang Nong, scraping it noisily—like a little dog picking fights just to get attention. The vase was full of peonies cultivated in the hothouse.
Jiang Nong finally turned her gaze toward him. Yu Lingxin casually looked away, avoiding her eyes.
This was how she was—couldn’t be truly cruel, yet couldn’t bring herself to truly love.
Jiang Nong said: “I’ve been thinking—I should move back to Jiaofang Hall.”
She combed her hair, avoiding the weight of his gaze: “We only moved in together before because I thought it would be safer—at least I could avoid assassins. But things are peaceful now. I think we should live separately. What do you think?”
She steeled herself again—she didn’t know if she was cutting off Yu Lingxin’s hopes, or her own: “We were never meant to be together anyway. We always end up fighting.”
Silence fell, broken only by the sound of breathing.
Then, in an instant, Yu Lingxin smashed the vase. A sharp, piercing crash—the duck-egg-blue ceramic shattered, water spreading across the floor, the gorgeous peonies strewn among the shards and puddles.
Jiang Nong had rarely seen Yu Lingxin lose his temper at her like this. Her body jolted, her lashes fluttering wildly, the rims of her eyes reddening.
Yu Lingxin’s face was livid. His narrow, upturned eyes were now terrifyingly cold, his thin lips pressed together, radiating an oppressive pressure that made the air heavy. The rage surging from his heart nearly consumed him—but the moment he caught sight of Jiang Nong’s fear, that fury and resentment turned inward, against himself.
His voice softened, measured and deliberate: “Such a trivial matter—no need to ask me.” With that, he strode off without another glance at her.
The servants waiting outside had naturally heard the argument—none dared to enter.
The moment Yu Lingxin stepped out of the hall, he saw a trembling crowd kneeling before him.
From the back, a palace maid gracefully knelt forward, lifting her head before demurely casting her eyes down, speaking in a soft voice: “Your Majesty, the night is cold and deep. This servant will fetch you a cloak.”
Yu Lingxin had not intended to take it out on them—but with his heart already boiling, someone had to be foolish enough to jump out.
His quarrel with Jiang Nong was between them—what did these outsiders have to do with it? A pack of wretches, all of them like Chao Ning, finding ways to make his life difficult!
The Emperor did not rebuke her, and the maid thought she saw an opportunity, quickly adding: “This servant may be dull, but I do know some massage and acupressure techniques…”
“Zheng—” Before she could finish, Yu Lingxin’s sword was out of its sheath, pointing at her.
The maid shrieked in fright and burst into tears.
“Gag her! Don’t let the Empress hear! Isn’t there enough chaos already?!” Yu Lingxin snapped at Xunliang. Then, thinking it unlucky to have blood spilled before the door, he threw down the sword and ordered the woman dragged away.
“Replace all the palace attendants tonight. Xunliang, report for your own punishment.”
Yu Lingxin grew even more agitated. He walked three laps around the pond, the cold wind making his forehead throb. He looked up at the sky, then down at the ground, thinking for a long while—finding no answer. Finally, he said: “Summon the Chief Astronomer. I have observed anomalies in the heavens lately—ill omens, likely to bring discord to the household and strife between husband and wife.”
Xunliang limped over after receiving his punishment, thinking to himself: Since when did His Majesty take an interest in such things? And what anomalies could he possibly see?
He looked up at the grey-blue night sky. Snow was about to fall. Where were the stars?
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