Yu Lingxin clearly knew Jiang Nong’s temperament well. If he acted a little weaker, a little more pitiful, she would waver and hesitate. A few more tears, and she would tell him the truth.
“You’re good to me, and I have nothing to give back.”
It wasn’t as if he had just started being good to her—he had always been good to her. So why was she only now, with such a delayed reaction, feeling guilty?
Yu Lingxin felt she still hadn’t gotten to the heart of it, so he cried again—weeping so sorrowfully that it could move anyone who heard it, enough to bring tears to the eyes of a stone. Like a young widower sitting on the city wall at night, gazing at the moon and weeping—truly touching. No woman could harden her heart against him.
It had been a while since he’d needed to use such tactics with Jiang Nong. In the past, when he’d been trying to win her over, he had indeed used them. Later, even if his tears could have brought down the Great Wall, they only made him seem ugly in her eyes—so he’d stopped embarrassing himself. After that, he had his title, and a respectable husband didn’t need such methods. Who knew he’d have to bring them out again?
Chao Ning and Jiang Nong were both susceptible to this—their tastes aligned perfectly. Tears from a delicate beauty triggered their protective instincts and sense of responsibility, lowering their guard.
Even though Jiang Nong knew Yu Lingxin was dangerous, because she loved him, it didn’t stop her from softening at his tears—especially since he wept with such finesse.
Unlike others, who had two ridiculous lines of tears streaming down their faces, his eyes would redden first, his lashes growing damp and downy, then he’d lower his head slightly—and one tear would roll down, followed by two more, three more, round as pearls on a string, never smearing across his face.
Of course, lying down and crying had its own beautiful method too.
He burrowed into Jiang Nong’s arms—though with his large frame, he couldn’t really fit, and she had to make an effort to wrap her arms around him—but the sentiment was there. Jiang Nong, already feeling guilty, confessed everything.
“I dreamed it. You don’t have to tell me—I already know. The last life wasn’t the first time we met, was it? I dreamed of a life before that…”
Yu Lingxin’s fingers, clutching her lapel, trembled slightly.
“I thought it was just a dream—until I saw Yuan Lian. In the dream, she and I were pushed out of the fire by Chao Ning, but she ran right back in. I also dreamed I jumped from a city wall, and after you learned of my death, you took your own life. Don’t say you don’t know anything. I thought about it—why was the ending of that life different from the last?”
His tears wouldn’t get him out of this one. Jiang Nong was asking him—or rather, she was coming with the answer already, looking for his confirmation.
Yu Lingxin’s prayers hadn’t worked. Jiang Nong had found out anyway. In truth, his prayers had never worked.
How absurd—could Heaven not stand to see her happy? Even through a dream, it had to make her remember all that.
His body trembled, shivering cold, and he held her to find some warmth. He pressed his forehead to hers, one tap after another. Since he couldn’t hide it anymore, he told the truth: “Yes. This is the third life. Jiang Nong, I was too useless—two lifetimes, and I couldn’t save you. In the first life, after I took my own life, I woke up in the Side Courts of the second life. In that first life, I was weak and foolish—by the time I had the power to take you away, you were already dead. I couldn’t let you die a second time.
In the second life, I lost my mind and became the version of me you hated most—and still couldn’t save you.”
Like everyone who’d been reborn, Yu Lingxin had also said at the moment of death: “If there’s a next life, I will…”
And after rebirth, he’d sworn in his heart: “This time around, I will…”
But everything is connected; things rarely went as smoothly as he’d hoped.
Jiang Nong had always thought Yu Lingxin’s hostility toward Chao Ning was inexplicable. But knowing he had lived three lifetimes, she finally understood.
In her first life, she’d died in a succession struggle. In her second, she’d died from Chao Ning’s mother’s poison. Yu Lingxin had long since gone mad—and given his nature, he would inevitably blame Chao Ning.
“So I always feel like I owe you. I don’t know what to do. If what I’m doing makes you uncomfortable, tell me. Or if you need me to do something, tell me. I don’t want you to give too much and me too little—it makes me uneasy.”
She spoke in a jumbled rush, unsure if she’d made herself clear.
So this was why Jiang Nong had resolved to be a virtuous wife?
“But everything I do is willingly. In matters of the heart, how can you say who owes whom?” Even though he’d always known she was like this, it still hurt in a way he’d never felt before. He quickly said, “You are the one who makes life worth living, who makes me look forward to each day. Waking up and seeing you fills my heart completely. Just having you alive is a blessing to me. If you think that way, then I owe you even more—because you let me keep living.”
Jiang Nong was stunned—could you really think of it that way?
Seeing her reaction, Yu Lingxin pressed on, wrapping his arm around her waist and coaxing her softly: “Besides, you only feel this way because you love me so deeply. Think about it—if you only liked me a little, or didn’t like me at all, even if you knew about the past lives, you might be moved and feel guilty, but would you fall in love with me because of it? Would you want to make it up to me?”
Jiang Nong hesitated, but Yu Lingxin was quicker, answering with finality: “Of course not. You’re a good person—you would do your best to help me, but not like this. You love me, and you’re afraid I’ll feel wronged. Jiang Nong, think about it—that feeling isn’t debt. It’s compassion. You just misidentified it.”
Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. If such a man appeared, even if Jiang Nong didn’t love him, she might still marry him—but Yu Lingxin, intent on deceiving her, would never say that.
He had always been skilled at twisting the truth, making black sound white. Jiang Nong, unguarded, followed his lead, now genuinely wavering, wondering if she had misread her own feelings.
“So you love me no less than I love you. It’s just that we’re too happy right now—that’s why you’re having these illusions. The weight of your love is light. If one day rebels stormed the palace—Jiang Nong, would you kill me and surrender, or would you flee with me?”
Without hesitation, Jiang Nong answered: “Of course I’d flee with you. And if we couldn’t escape, I’d die with you. But…”
Before she could finish, Yu Lingxin cut in: “Exactly. Just as I would die for you, you would die for me. So how can you say you love me less? It’s just that we have no crisis right now to prove it. If we did, you would do better than I.”
Jiang Nong pondered this and felt he might be right.
“How about this—since you still feel you’re not good enough to me, let’s do one thing together for each other every day. Fulfill one wish for the other. That way, I’m good to you, and you’re good to me. We’re still so young, with such a long future ahead. There may still be trials—and when there are, the only one I can trust is my wife. Sister, you’d fight tooth and nail to help me then, wouldn’t you?”
“Ah… yes!” Jiang Nong forgot what she’d been about to say with her “but.” She was already caught up in his reasoning, convinced he was right. Though something still felt a little off, her mood had lifted considerably.
“Jiang Nong, I knew it—only you are truly good to me.” Yu Lingxin nuzzled her cheek, satisfied. In the shadows, his eyes flickered with something dark and inscrutable.
He knew that no amount of careful reasoning could uproot her deeply ingrained nature. He could only redirect her thoughts, ease her burden, and slowly work to change her mindset.
Being loved is not a debt. You can be willful, capricious—you can spend it freely.
Of course, Jiang Nong liked to get to the bottom of things—and Yu Lingxin was no different. He had quickly traced the source of her current emotional state to Jiang Dian and Song Jiaoyu.
Those useless parents were truly the root of it all.
From childhood, Jiang Nong had to pay a price for any scrap of attention or affection from them.
She had to excel at her studies, or dance brilliantly enough to astonish everyone—only then would she earn a word of praise from Jiang Dian, or be held gently in Song Jiaoyu’s arms and told that Nongnong had brought her mother honor, that her mother truly loved Nongnong.
Jiang Nong’s willingness to enter a political marriage was itself another form of trading for her parents’ love.
Even later, when Empress Dowager Fu was willing to care for her, it was because Jiang Nong reminded her of her deceased daughter—that grandparent-grandchild love was also bartered.
For a person, the first love they experience is parental love. Only later come friendship and romantic love. If even the most selfless, primal love of parents must be exchanged for something, then even after she stopped chasing Song Jiaoyu’s affection, that pattern of exchange was already bone-deep.
So when faced with Yu Lingxin’s overwhelming, unconditional love—her first reactions were joy, safety, and satisfaction. But immense anxiety followed: she had nothing to trade for it. That made her uneasy.
Yu Lingxin never let anyone he disliked live past the third watch.
Within half a month, news of the destruction of Jiang Dian’s imperial tomb had spread across all five kingdoms.
A few destitute Jiang clan members, bitter that Jiang Dian had handed the throne to an outsider and short on funds, set their sights on his burial goods. One night, drunk and hot-headed, they rounded up a few grave robbers and descended into the tomb. They accidentally triggered a trap—and since Jiang Dian had died young and his tomb was unfinished, the whole structure collapsed.
Not only were those clan members crushed to death, but when the Imperial Clan Minister led men to dig through the rubble, they found Jiang Dian’s bones had been shattered to pieces.
Far away in her fief, Lady Song had already been weakened by anxiety over the succession, plagued by minor ailments. The moment she heard the news, her illness worsened.
When Xunliang delivered the report, Jiang Nong was briefly stunned—then accepted it.
Yu Lingxin had been holding a hairpin, measuring it against her head. He finally found the perfect spot and gently slid it in, stepping back to admire his work. He was about to ask for a kiss and some praise when Jiang Nong pushed him away. He could only offer two perfunctory words of sympathy for the unfortunate news: “How sad. But what can I do? Jiang Nong, we’ll just have to offer our condolences for your father once more.”
Jiang Nong looked up and stared at him oddly for a long moment—long enough that Yu Lingxin thought she’d somehow sensed he was behind it—when she finally said: “With that expression, I’d think you were about to go set off firecrackers.”
So Yu Lingxin tugged at the corners of his mouth, flashing a standard eight-tooth smile, making himself look as gentle as possible.
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