Yu Lingxin heard the movement and shifted slightly, but ultimately held still—only removing the bamboo slip from his face to reveal that weary, slightly haggard expression.
Jiang Nong stepped forward two paces, then suddenly remembered that given their current relationship, she should greet him formally. She bent her knees in a quick curtsy before continuing forward.
Yu Lingxin caught this from the corner of his eye—he wanted to laugh but couldn’t quite manage it, only tugging at the corner of his mouth as he sat up: “The Empress is a rare visitor. Finally thought to stroll through Xuan Shi Hall.”
By Jiang Nong’s original plan, she should have appeared before him with a tear-streaked face, anxious and fearful, eager to mend ties with humble charm. But she had never possessed Yu Lingxin’s acting skills—she simply couldn’t cry on command. She could only dryly dab at her eyes with a handkerchief and say: “It’s been many days since I’ve seen Your Majesty. I… your concubine…”
She couldn’t get the words out.
She stammered for a long while, her face turning red, before finally squeezing out something about missing him greatly. Yu Lingxin hid a smile behind a cough, turning his head away for a long moment before replying: “Very well. I understand.”
Both of them knew exactly what was going on. A gesture of meaning was enough.
Jiang Nong had performed her part as he’d scripted it. Yu Lingxin saw it and chose not to critique her acting.
Before the Imperial Kitchen could bring in the meal table, Jiang Nong stacked the scattered bamboo slips, sat down beside Yu Lingxin, and took a moment to compose herself.
Yu Lingxin spoke first: “You must know about the troop training at Mount Xi. I never intended to hide it from you. After Qingming, I plan to march south—Song Shen will assist you during that time.”
Song Shen was the Grand Chancellor appointed after Lü Chengcheng’s death.
“I thought you had truly changed, truly become different…” Jiang Nong murmured—this was sincere. In truth, she couldn’t be certain. After all this maneuvering, was Yu Lingxin really only doing this to force her?
Even she knew that going with the current was the most beneficial choice—and this was indeed a perfect opportunity.
Was she really that important to him? She probably wasn’t.
“Change? Why would I need to change?” Yu Lingxin asked with a smile.
Jiang Nong felt deflated. She clasped her hands together, picking at her fingers. Her dejection now was genuine—she admitted: “No, I suppose there’s no need.”
The only person in this world who demanded Yu Lingxin change, who hoped he would become good and kind, was Jiang Nong. By defying her demands, all he gained was her displeasure—nothing more. The fact that he wouldn’t change proved that she didn’t weigh that heavily in his heart. On the contrary, she was the one who needed to change and yield, if only to preserve her own life.
If Yu Lingxin’s desire for her love wasn’t so intense, then all the leverage Jiang Nong held would mean nothing to him. In their dynamic, she was so weak that feelings were her only bargaining chip.
Yu Lingxin’s tone carried a hint of mockery and triumph: “I’m glad too—after two lifetimes, you’ve finally come to your senses. If not for yourself, then for the people around you.”
He expected this to provoke her—but Jiang Nong didn’t speak. She bowed her head, and from his angle, he could only see the crown of her hair. She hugged her knees, crouching on the cushion, looking so small and pitiful when curled up—just like when she was a child, hiding in the dance studio to cry. After a long pause, she gave a small nod.
Yu Lingxin’s chest seized with a sudden pain, and he burst into a fit of violent coughing, hand pressed to his lips, eyes reddening, as if he might cough out his very lungs.
Jiang Nong scrambled up, poured warm water, and handed it to him—but he only coughed harder.
Between coughs, his gaze swept over Jiang Nong. She seemed only a little downcast—at least she hadn’t cried…
At least she hadn’t cried.
Yu Lingxin’s icy fingers curled around the warm cup. He sipped the water in silence, no longer speaking. Jiang Nong, rustling about, spoke occasionally.
“I still hope you can help Chao Ning. He truly regards you as a friend.”
“There’s truly nothing between us but sibling affection—he’s more like a real brother to me than Jiang Biao ever was.”
“In the last life, the Crown Prince was under house arrest. I was waiting to be married at the Guesthouse. He helped me out of that situation—I owe him a debt of gratitude. At the very least, I should repay him for that…”
Yu Lingxin listened, tapping his fingers against the cup. Eight out of every ten words were pleas for Chao Ning. Jiang Nong, I really don’t know if you came here to pretend to reconcile or to provoke me—can these words possibly serve to improve things between us?
Or did she still harbor some hope for his humanity? Hoping she could soften his heart this way?
A torrent of cutting, sarcastic remarks surged to his lips—but in the end, he swallowed them all, meeting her only with cold silence.
This was better for both her and him.
They had been at each other’s throats in the previous life, and Jiang Nong had never come close to tears over a few words from him. In this life, she was far more fragile—he truly didn’t know what might make her cry.
If she actually cried, then all was lost.
Jiang Nong’s throat grew dry from talking, but Yu Lingxin gave her no response whatsoever. She had no choice but to give up.
Before long, the Imperial Kitchen brought in the meal table. Jiang Nong, quite tender and considerate, personally helped Yu Lingxin rise, arranged his dishes, and served him soup—deboning fish and peeling shrimp with practiced care. She was so virtuous it was almost unbelievable—as if she hadn’t just been fighting with him days ago, slapping him across the face.
Truly, she had the bearing of a virtuous empress—perhaps exactly the model of imperial harmony Lü Chengcheng had always dreamed of. One might say, if Lü Chengcheng could perceive it from the Nine Springs, he could finally rest in peace.
Yu Lingxin had caught a chill—everything tasted bland. He chewed the shrimp meat slowly, hidden in his cheek, struggling to swallow, his gaze drifting lazily after Jiang Nong.
How long had he known Jiang Nong now?
Counting carefully, it had to be decades.
A normal person would indeed act like this to survive—but Jiang Nong was not normal. She wasn’t one to compromise so tactfully. Her temper seemed endlessly mild, but in truth she was as stubborn as a mule.
Yu Lingxin actually considered it: it wasn’t until Jiang Nong was dying that she’d ever said one soft word to him, ever yielded.
He knew Jiang Nong too well—which was why he could tell how strange her current submission was. It would almost make more sense if she were about to throw herself off the city wall.
It was obviously suspicious, obviously off.
Her acting was as poor as her fake crying—she couldn’t even pretend to yield without overdoing it.
If circumstances hadn’t been so inappropriate, Yu Lingxin might have given her some pointers.
He amused himself with the thought and let out a cold, inexplicable laugh. He had a faint feeling his plan was succeeding—and his heart ached again.
Jiang Nong diligently served him food onto his plate. His soul was already floating in pain, hovering midair—but he had set all of this in motion himself, chosen this path. He had no choice but to play along with Jiang Nong’s ulterior motives, however odd her behavior.
Jiang Nong, too, found it strange. She had been so deliberately obvious, so unnaturally attentive—how had Yu Lingxin not noticed yet?
The two finished the meal, each preoccupied with their own thoughts.
The small kitchen brought in a bowl of prepared medicinal decoction. Jiang Nong took it, stirred it with a spoon, blew on it until it was just the right temperature, and then handed it to Yu Lingxin.
He stared at the bowl of reddish-brown liquid still steaming slightly, somewhat lost in thought—wondering if Jiang Nong would put the poison in his food or in his medicine.
Probably in the medicine—an old trick. At least she’d have an easier time administering it.
Seeing him hesitate, Jiang Nong blew on it again and asked: “Shall I feed you spoonful by spoonful?”
Taking medicine spoonful by spoonful—Yu Lingxin suspected she intended to torture him with bitterness. But since his wife was rarely so virtuous, he was willing to indulge her.
Perhaps this was the only time in his life he’d get to enjoy Jiang Nong’s gentle tenderness.
He nodded and said yes: “Then I’ll trouble…” He paused, deliberating for a moment, “…Jiang Nong.”
Her name flowed through his chest, his throat, his mouth—circling on the tip of his tongue before he breathed it out, soft and lingering.
Jiang Nong often heard him call her name, but rarely so gently—so softly that her ears tingled. The phrasing struck her as strange, not quite in keeping with normal speech.
If it were Jiang Yuan, or anyone close to her, they would have said “trouble Nongnong,” not “trouble Jiang Nong.” Such an odd construction. Yu Lingxin always seemed to have a strange fixation on calling her by her full name—almost no one else addressed her by both first and last name.
Jiang Nong unconsciously stirred the medicine in the bowl, spooning it into his mouth one sip at a time. It suddenly occurred to her that she too always called him by his full name.
It was bitter. Taking medicine was torture enough—spoonful by spoonful was like being drawn and quartered.
The bitterness would also surge back afterward.
When Jiang Nong brought the spoon to him, Yu Lingxin didn’t find it all that bitter—the fragrance of her hands was more noticeable. It was only when she withdrew to scoop the next spoonful that the bitterness of the previous one rose from his throat. By the time she extended the spoon again, the bitterness had mostly faded, leaving only her scent.
So it went, back and forth, until Yu Lingxin had finished the entire bowl.
Jiang Nong found a seemingly plausible excuse: she had dreamed of past and present lives, too many things piling up—and upon waking, she felt exhausted and afraid. So she had given up struggling, accepted her fate, decided to stop resisting, and would henceforth treat him with respect and courtesy.
Yu Lingxin didn’t remember the details clearly—because the excuse itself didn’t matter. What mattered was that he appeared to believe it. No matter how flimsy the excuse, he could take it as sincere.
“Since you feel this way, all the better. I will give you the honor of an empress, give you everything any woman in this world could desire.”
Jiang Nong didn’t know if she should say “Long live Your Majesty’s grace” and coyly nestle into his arms—which seemed more in character—but she knew in her heart she couldn’t do it. Just thinking about it made her skin crawl.
She could only nod in response, while inwardly perplexed, biting her nails and frowning. Her excuses were full of holes, clearly suspicious—did Yu Lingxin genuinely believe them, or was he merely pretending?
His acting was impeccable—Jiang Nong truly couldn’t tell.
But Yu Lingxin had always been clever. She had given him so many openings—there was no way he hadn’t noticed. With that thought, she felt somewhat reassured, believing he was surely playing along.
Everything proceeded as Jiang Nong had expected, and as Yu Lingxin had intended—yet neither felt any satisfaction. Only a vague, growing restlessness spread between them.
Leave a Reply