Qin Xiang stood frozen, shoulders and waist in one rigid line.
Yun Qian pressed close to her face, the faint sweetness of Iced Cheese curling through her nose.
Too close. Qin Xiang stared hard at Yun Qian’s rosy lips—the barest curve, the lip balm so faint it seemed to have dissolved in the wine, leaving behind the lips’ own natural color.
A plain, unremarkable gesture, like a pebble dropped into a placid lake, slowly spreading ripples.
In an instant, Qin Xiang’s small face turned red. Her eyes traveled from Yun Qian’s lips to her neck—cool in the summer heat—and further down, catching a glimpse of snow-white skin.
She sprang back in fright, letting go of Yun Qian’s arm, and collapsed onto the sitting couch.
Sister-in-law, sister-in-law…
She refused, her cheeks burning, “N-no, we’re not married yet.”
“That’s true.” Yun Qian answered languidly, her skin flushed pink, her whole person lazy from the wine.
Having spoken, she lifted her eyes. Her long brows arched upward—the cold vanished into nothing, and softness carved itself into her very bones.
Cold and soft, each enhancing the other.
Yun Qian leaned back and muttered to herself, “Tomorrow. Tomorrow we can kiss.”
Qin Xiang: “…” Not tomorrow, not the day after, not ever in this life!
After screaming inwardly, Qin Xiang gradually calmed, her dark eyes fixed on Yun Qian.
Yun Qian settled onto the couch, toppling onto a pillow, her head tilted at an angle, eyes shimmering, lips pressed lightly, gaining a full, rosy plumpness.
Qin Xiang couldn’t bear to watch. She was a proper person—why did she keep seeing…
She shook her head and swallowed nervously. “You’re drunk. Should you return to your room?”
Tomorrow night—tomorrow night they’d share a pillow, share a bed, lie side by side.
Qin Xiang’s face suddenly burned. She didn’t dare look up. It was too much excitement.
“I won’t. I’ll lie here for a while…” Yun Qian’s voice was hoarse and alluring. She closed her eyes, her face seeming to wrap in mist—hazy, glowing faintly.
Qin Xiang sat dumbstruck, vaguely realizing she was being too passive. She looked at the bed, then at her sister-in-law curled on the couch.
“A-Yao, why don’t you rest on the bed?”
Yun Qian waved a hand, eyes still closed, saying nothing.
Qin Xiang pinched the skin of her own wrist, then stepped forward. “I’ll help you?”
“Hm?” Yun Qian glanced up at her.
Qin Xiang’s whole body trembled, her throat itching. “I’ll help you to the bed to rest.”
The girl looked especially tender—her flushed, shy face made one want to reach out and touch her.
Yun Qian curved her lips and nodded, raising her arm. The sleeve slipped down, revealing a length of snow-white jade arm.
Qin Xiang: “…” No, no, not like this.
Like lightning, Qin Xiang reached out and pulled the sleeve back up, hastily covering the white wrist.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
Yun Qian shook her arm. The sleeve slid down again, slowly, exposing the smooth, delicate skin once more.
Qin Xiang’s eyes went wide. She reached out and pushed the sleeve back up again.
Yun Qian glared at her. “Hot…”
At that word, Qin Xiang’s hands moved faster than her brain, pushing the sleeve back down at once. Looking at the blindingly white arm, she closed her eyes in anguish.
A sin.
Qin Xiang looked at the toppled woman. Where should she hold her? The hand? The waist?
Qin Xiang bent down, her hand against the woman’s waist as she helped her up. Yun Qian immediately leaned into her shoulder, warm breath brushing her ear.
That breath burrowed into her ear hollow, making it tingle, her heart clawed as if by a kitten.
Blood surged.
Qin Xiang hurried to the bed, carefully set the woman down, and removed her shoes.
She asked softly, “Do you want to undress?”
“Hm?” Yun Qian hummed, her foot trailing onto the quilt. Startled, Qin Xiang moved her foot back and covered her with the quilt.
By the time she finished, Qin Xiang was drenched in sweat. Outside, night had fallen. She probably wouldn’t be going back.
Qin Xiang panted with exhaustion, looking at the sleeping woman and smiling. Her sister-in-law was easy to get along with—understanding, gentle, lovable.
A virtuous wife stabilized a family.
She had worked up a sweat, so she went to bathe.
Afterward, she ate a simple dinner.
The bed was occupied. The maids thoughtfully asked, “Young master, would you like to rest in the side room?”
“And your miss?” Qin Xiang pointed at the bed. “Doesn’t she need to bathe? Wash? She’s sleeping in her clothes.”
At this, the maid was stumped. She didn’t know—the steward had told her to take good care of Little Young Master Qin, but said nothing about the miss.
After a staring contest, the maid said, “This servant will ask the steward.”
Qin Xiang waited in the room.
The steward arrived very quickly, greeted Qin Xiang, and said, “You and the miss marry tomorrow—hardly outsiders now. Kindly take care of the miss.”
Then he led the maid away, leaving Qin Xiang alone with the lamplight, confounded.
Married… but they weren’t married yet. A man and woman alone together was improper. Did the Lin family not care at all?
And she hadn’t even met the Lin parents before bowing to heaven and earth.
Qin Xiang sat alone in the room, sighing. Taking care of people—she could do that. Taking care of her sister-in-law—she could not.
The moonlight was thick, streaming through the window in pale silver.
Qin Xiang closed the window and sat directly on the footrest, head tilted, watching her sister-in-law.
The woman before her had skin as fine as white porcelain—delicate, smooth, beautiful to the bone.
After one glance, Qin Xiang rested her head on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. She was tired and couldn’t hold on.
Soon, Qin Xiang’s breathing evened out. The figure on the bed opened her eyes—deep as an abyss, without a trace.
Yun Qian raised her hand and tapped the girl’s eyelid. The girl didn’t wake.
Then her fingertip pressed the girl’s cheeks. Not much flesh; poking it was unsatisfying.
Fleshier cheeks would feel better.
Yun Qian closed her eyes again. After two breaths, she rose and left under the moonlight.
Two hours later, she returned. The figure on the footrest still hadn’t woken.
Yun Qian lay back down, her movements so light they made no sound.
The moment she lay down, Qin Xiang jolted awake like from a dream, sitting up with hazy eyes. She looked left, right, then fixed on Yun Qian’s face.
It was nothing. She flopped back down.
She closed her eyes. Yun Qian opened hers, gaze landing on the girl’s slender fingers.
The girl was only sixteen; she would still grow. Her hands were long and slim, with little flesh.
Qin Xiang was thin, her body hidden by the oversized robes, her wrists and cheeks leaner than most.
Yun Qian stared for a while, finding it hard to locate the Empress Qin of the future in her.
Empress Qin was bewitching and graceful, boneless and soft—every move born of natural charm.
Qin Xiang was shy and timid, a living book of virtue in the way she walked—daring not to meet eyes, daring not to speak much. A green, unripe fruit.
Yun Qian couldn’t figure it out. Carefully, she took Qin Xiang’s wrist and slowly, slowly tucked it beneath the blanket.
Then she slid her own hand beneath Qin Xiang’s palm, creating the illusion that Qin Xiang had, in the middle of the night, reached out to hold her hand.
The dim lamplight pooled over Qin Xiang. She slept on her stomach, limbs stiff, her whole body numb.
She stirred. The warmth beneath her palm was too high—it woke her at once.
She dared not move. She could clearly feel a patch of smooth, soft skin beneath her palm.
Cross the line, and both would be shattered.
Qin Xiang quietly withdrew her hand, her palm sweating. The silky sensation stirred something strange in her heart.
Strange, yet wonderful—and thrilling.
Qin Xiang felt she had overstepped. She didn’t dare keep sleeping beside her, and quietly shifted away.
Her legs had long gone numb; moving hurt. After two steps, she pitched forward and landed flat on the floor.
She sucked in a sharp breath of pain.
Even so, she composed herself, got up, and walked to the sitting couch beneath the window.
Leaning by the window, she began breathing deeply, slowly regaining her calm.
Outside, the sky was just turning pale. In summer, dawn comes early; she didn’t know the hour, but she knew it was late.
Single people don’t deserve wives.
She sat until full daylight. Finally free to move, she crept out and closed the door.
Fresh air. Her knees ached sharply; she bent to rub them. A maidservant approached, and she straightened at once, pretending nothing was wrong.
Next: washing up, breakfast.
The person inside still hadn’t woken. Qin Xiang took the chance to ask about the household.
But no matter how she asked, the maids refused to speak, their lips sealed tight.
As she fretted, the person inside emerged—skirt swaying, hair bun slightly mussed, yet her bearing undimmed.
Qin Xiang didn’t dare raise her head. Her palm burned and sweated again.
Yun Qian walked over as if nothing had happened. “I had someone check the hour. The ceremony at dusk will be fitting. There are few people in the household, so we’ll keep it simple—we’ll hold a grand celebration once we’re back in Zhenjiang.”
Qin Xiang dared not disagree. She nodded like a pestle, looking thoroughly pushable.
Rubbing her aching head, Yun Qian left.
Qin Xiang watched her graceful back. She walked without her skirt swaying, her silhouette like a tall green bamboo—fragile, yet tenacious.
She sat in a daze for a long while. The maids, quick on the uptake, cleared the unfinished breakfast.
Inside and out, silence reigned. No one dared speak. The courtyard was hushed—the perfect place for brooding.
Qin Xiang sat and thought. She regretted it. She shouldn’t have come to the Lin Residence to deceive her way into a marriage.
Though it wasn’t exactly deception—it was a match arranged by the elders. A parent’s command.
She’d told the truth about the concubines, and her sister-in-law hadn’t refused.
Perhaps the only lie was her face.
Qin Xiang touched her cheeks, her regret deepening.
She spent the whole morning in a daze. After noon, the courtyard grew lively—maids and servants began decorating, hanging red lanterns, draping red silk.
A festive air rose.
The maids came to dress Qin Xiang. All she had to do was go to the bedchamber to bring out “A-Yao” and proceed to the front hall to bow to heaven and earth.
After bowing, they would be proper husband and wife.
Following the maids, she slipped into the courtyard. Standing outside the door, the maids ganged up, demanding the groom compose a poem to urge the bride out.
Qin Xiang stiffened and recited one from memory. The maids burst into laughter. Then the door opened.
Within stood a figure in red robes, a wedding fan shielding her face, tall and graceful.
Qin Xiang’s heart soared, nearly jumping out of her throat.
Someone gave her a shove. “Young master, go on!”
Qin Xiang rushed forward, almost stumbling on the steps. The maids laughed harder.
Humiliated to the bone, Qin Xiang staggered to her sister-in-law’s side, her hands clenching with nerves.
Now what was she supposed to do?
As she floundered, a maid shoved red silk into her hands and called out merrily, “Son-in-Law, will you carry her or lead her?”
