Jiang Nong and Yu Lingxin had planted many flowering trees outside Xuan Shi Hall.
At first, they’d discussed what to plant with great care, planning everything in detail. Yu Lingxin had even drawn a construction diagram—though it was so ugly that Jiang Nong had to revise it herself.
In the beginning, they followed the plan. But later, they kept planting more and more, whatever came to mind—and over two years, the grounds of Xuan Shi Hall had become a chaotic mess.
From the outside, the hall still looked solemn and ancient. But in summer, stepping inside was an assault on the eyes—reds, yellows, purples, pinks—flowers of every color blooming everywhere, their fragrance overwhelming. But truly, it was ugly. So tacky.
Each tree on its own was beautiful, but together they looked like a rural New Year’s drum corps.
What a miscalculation.
Another summer had arrived. Jiang Nong walked through the courtyard with her hands behind her back, her eyes smarting.
She wanted to suggest cutting down or relocating these trees—but thinking of the sweat Yu Lingxin had shed planting them, and all the ways she’d “helped,” she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Though planting trees had been her idea, she’d hardly done any real work. First, she wasn’t very good at it—she’d even broken a few branches. Second, when moving a tree, she’d cracked a nail. It hadn’t drawn blood, but her heart bled all the same—she’d grown them so long, kept them so lovely.
Yu Lingxin kept asking her what was wrong, what was wrong, what was wrong, and why was she crying—grabbing her hand to inspect it, until Jiang Nong punched him.
In truth, Jiang Nong had served as nothing more than a supervisor during the whole planting process.
If she now had to say, “These flowers are too ugly, let’s pull them out,” it would be too hurtful. Though she toyed with Yu Lingxin sometimes, she didn’t bully him like that.
She walked around again, hands clasped behind her back.
She kicked a tree trunk. It was solid—it seemed even thicker than when she’d checked last month.
She also wondered: how did Yu Lingxin manage to make everything he planted thrive? Why wouldn’t these trees just die?
If they died, she could legitimately replace them.
Maybe Yu Lingxin just had a special talent for raising things—plants grew well, and people grew well too.
Since these ugly flowers were here and Yu Lingxin hadn’t suggested removing them, he must be satisfied. If the one who did the labor was happy, she could tolerate it.
Every move she made was observed by Yu Lingxin.
He leaned by the window, watching her, clicked his tongue, changed position, leaned again, and clicked his tongue once more.
Even with his vision not as clear as others’, he could see how unbearably tacky this garden of reds and greens was.
But Jiang Nong seemed content—touching here, looking there, even kicking a trunk.
If he looked closely, maybe the flowers weren’t that hard to look at. So lively, so festive.
Whatever Jiang Nong liked, Yu Lingxin would shut his eyes and ears and carry it through.
He stared for a long time at the tree Jiang Nong had circled several times.
Crabapple—red.
When Jiang Nong woke up, she heard that the Court of the Imperial Treasury had sent two more trees—crabapples, red. She closed her eyes, opened them again, thinking she was dreaming.
The Flower Garden was getting new residents. She couldn’t even imagine what the scene would look like now.
Yu Lingxin eagerly asked where to plant them.
Seeing him so happy, she didn’t want to discourage him. She thought for a moment, then pointed at the crabapple she’d kicked yesterday: “Plant them there.”
At least they were the same variety, the same color—it would look more cohesive.
Yu Lingxin smiled, his heart leaping—he’d guessed right. Jiang Nong really did love those crabapples, even wanting them planted together.
Watching the smile on his face, Jiang Nong thought the same: Yu Lingxin truly loved all these red and green flowers.
She still wanted to help. While he dug holes in the yard, she wielded a giant pair of shears to trim the tree’s shape.
Unfortunately, her freshly grown nail broke again…
Still no blood, but three months of growth—gone.
She crouched in silence, slowly burying her face in her arms.
All for these two “festive” crabapples—back to square one.
Calm down. Calm down.
Yu Lingxin gently stroked her hair: “What’s wrong? Not feeling well? Stomach ache?”
Going by the timing, her cycle was still half a month away—and she’d never had discomfort during it anyway. Had she had too many cold drinks in the heat?
Jiang Nong kicked him—not hard, though.
She was hanging herself, and he thought she was swinging on a swing.
“It’s your fault,” she said.
If he hadn’t insisted on planting those two trees, her perfectly grown nails wouldn’t have broken again.
She knew it wasn’t really fair to blame him—she hadn’t been careful, and he’d told her to leave it alone and let him cut. But she still wanted to say it, to blame him, to act a little spoiled.
Because she’d discovered that Yu Lingxin was different—the more unreasonable she was, the happier he became. He never thought she was being fussy.
She’d tested this over and over: Yu Lingxin had no limits with her.
So Jiang Nong could say whatever she wanted, enjoying the feeling of being unconditionally indulged. She could follow her morals and be a good person—but she could also be an unreasonable bad person in front of Yu Lingxin.
It seemed that the older one instinctively felt they should accommodate and care for the younger.
So when teasing him, she could be the older sister—and when being unreasonable, she could be the younger sister.
In truth, they weren’t that far apart in age anyway.
Yu Lingxin was very good at reading the room. He knew when to act spoiled and call her “sister,” and when to shift into the caretaker role.
Right now, he didn’t even know what he was supposed to be blamed for—was her stomach ache his fault? For not watching her and stopping her from eating too many cold treats?
If he thought about it that way, then yes, it was his fault.
But why did Jiang Nong blame only him, and no one else? Because he was special to her.
He was her husband, her lover, her sweetheart, her best friend, the one she could act spoiled with—the only one in each other’s lives.
He bent down and gently touched her cheek: “My fault. How about I take you back to rest?”
At those words, Jiang Nong’s bad mood lifted. She looked up: “I’m better now.”
Yu Lingxin studied her complexion—still rosy—and asked several times before finally relaxing.
He took the soft branches he’d trimmed and wove a simple sunhat, plopping it onto her head. He waved her off: “I’ll handle this. Go play.”
That phrasing made her feel a little strange—as if he were talking to a child, when she was actually older.
Seeing her puzzled expression, Yu Lingxin smiled, pinched his voice, and added: “Sister—okay?”
That felt right.
Beside the vibrant crabapple stood a sturdy pomelo tree with thick branches. Jiang Nong circled it but couldn’t find a good spot to climb, so she gave up.
Watching her circle, Yu Lingxin seemed to read her mind. He wiped the dirt off his hands and asked: “Want to go up and take a look?”
She climbed onto the trunk with his help. Her view opened up—even the chaotic, noisy garden looked vibrant and alive from above.
Wearing her rough branch hat, hugging the pomelo trunk, she watched him down below, digging the hole wider with a hoe, sleeves rolled up, forearm muscles taut with effort. Unknowingly, he’d transformed from the thin sixteen-year-old boy into a full-grown man.
Jiang Nong plucked a pomelo leaf, rolled it up, and tested its sound against her lips.
The pomelo leaf was smooth and flexible, its tone especially clear. Crisp, gentle notes rose alongside the rustle of the hoe against the earth—like a pastoral melody, ringing through this riotously colorful garden.
A peaceful, happy life—like the bright sun in the sky. She couldn’t quite put it into words, only knew it was warm, and it felt so good on her skin.
As a child, she’d wondered what her future would be like—but she’d never been too optimistic. And indeed, things had played out that way.
By all logic, her first life, jumping from the city wall, should have been the end of her story.
Her thoughts drifted. Yu Lingxin heard her aimless melody and asked what she was thinking.
She actually had a question: “Have you ever had our fortunes matched? I was thinking—if we’ve been entangled for three lifetimes, does that count as fate? And if it’s fate, why did it take until the third life to work out? Which temple in the city gives accurate readings? Let’s go check again.”
Yu Lingxin’s mouth twitched, then he smiled, teasing: “Of course I have. Deep affection, deep fate—destined to be entangled for life after life. There’s no point calculating again. Isn’t the proof already right in front of us?”
“Oh.” Jiang Nong thought he had a point. She swapped to a new leaf and switched to a more cheerful tune.
Seeing her drop the idea, Yu Lingxin breathed a silent sigh of relief.
He’d had his and Jiang Nong’s fortunes matched more than once—the monks who’d done it could stretch from Fengye all the way to Xi. Every last one had died by his sword.
In those years when Jiang Nong didn’t love him, Yu Lingxin would grab a monk whenever he had free time. Every single one said the same: a karmic bond of enmity, incompatible temperaments, fated to meet but not to stay—best not to force it.
So what?
He was going to force it anyway—and hadn’t he succeeded?
One lifetime wasn’t enough, so he tried two; two wasn’t enough, so he tried three. If their temperaments didn’t match, he’d twist his own to fit. If he couldn’t change Jiang Nong, couldn’t he change himself?
Jiang Nong didn’t need to change—whatever kind of person she liked, he would become.
Foolish, kind-hearted, innocent, or steady, reliable, even charming—he could be any of them.
He and Jiang Nong would be happy eventually.
No one was allowed to bring that “incompatible fate” nonsense to Jiang Nong’s ears.
Yu Lingxin lowered his head, his eyes dark, treating the ground like those bald monks’ heads and digging through it viciously.
Sitting in the tree, Jiang Nong suddenly sneezed a few times, feeling like someone was talking about her.
She looked down blankly and met Yu Lingxin’s face, just as he looked up.
On this bright afternoon, sunlight cast a soft, warm gold over his handsome, deep-set features. He gave her a gentle, pure smile, revealing a dimple by his cheek.
So well-behaved.
Jiang Nong’s eyes curved too, and she smiled back at him like a little cat.
You see—Yu Lingxin’s nature is actually very good. He just took a wrong turn in the previous life because he’d been through too much trauma. In this life, with proper guidance and love to melt his heart, he’s been set straight!
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