Chapter 37

Chapter 37

The mountain path leading down to the town at the foot of the hill wasn’t far.

Du Lingjing watched the Marquis, who descended with such swift, effortless strides that, despite her best efforts, she couldn't keep pace and soon found herself at the base of the mountain.

Throughout the journey, he didn’t utter a single word to her. Occasionally, his gaze would flicker back, a fleeting touch that vanished before she could even mouth a distant greeting.

Uncertain how to proceed, Du Lingjing followed him into the town. There, she saw officials, Embroidered Uniform Guards, and even household retainers from the Marquis’s estate in the capital already gathered around him, awaiting his orders and instructions.

Not wanting to intrude, she observed from a distance. Just then, she noticed Hu Tingjun bidding farewell to the physician who had come to treat Hu Tinglan’s injuries and walked over.

She inquired about Hu Tinglan’s condition: "Fresh wounds atop old scars. He still has to return to the capital for further investigation, so there’s little chance for rest.”

Hu Tingjun sighed, then, feeling the strong wind at the doorway, pulled Du Lingjing into the courtyard where they were staying.

“The physician just said that while his injuries are healing, many have recently succumbed to wind-borne illness. Given his condition, he’s especially vulnerable. Already severely wounded, now he’s caught a chill. And with the journey ahead—not to mention how troubled he is by Shao Boju’s capture—how will he recover?”

Du Lingjing saw Hu Tingjun’s eyes were red-rimmed as she mentioned Shao Boju, heaving sigh after sigh.

There was little comfort Du Lingjing could offer. She simply took her hand. “No matter what, escaping the Shao family’s clutches is already a stroke of luck. Don’t dwell on it too much.”

Hu Tingjun understood. She missed her young daughter dearly, wishing she could fly to her side. She had even feared that if neither she nor her husband, Guo Ting, survived, what would become of their child?

Her eyes grew slightly damp, but now that everything had settled, she turned to Du Lingjing.

“Thank you, Jing. Without you, we might never have escaped.”

Du Lingjing shook her head. “What need for thanks between us?”

Hu Tingjun smiled, though she noticed Du Lingjing’s hands were icy. “You should take care too. The season’s turned bitterly cold since autumn. Catching cold brings misery at best, deadly at worst.”

Du Lingjing assured her she’d bundle up more the next day.

But then her friend gave her a thoughtful look, lowering her voice. “Truthfully, the one who deserves our deepest gratitude is the Marquis.”

Were it not for Lu Shenru’s insistence on handling this matter justly, even if they escaped Shao Boju’s clutches, they’d have never escaped Lu Shenru’s grasp.

Du Lingjing had never expected him to come personally, let alone that he’d already devised a resolution beforehand. Most surprising of all, he had truly intended to help her save them—even after the incident with the Earl of Rongchang, he hadn’t broken his promise to her.

She fell silent. Hu Tingjun squeezed her hand.

“What did you say to the Marquis earlier?”

Du Lingjing faltered at this.

“He… refused to speak to me.”

Hu Tingjun blinked.

The room was quiet, save for the faint crackling of the newly lit charcoal brazier—a far cry from the Marquis’s estate’s refined braziers.

Du Lingjing had never encountered someone who completely refused to engage with her.

Her eyes lowered slightly as she sighed, equal parts melancholy and helpless.

Hu Tingjun had a round face, though months in hiding had thinned her, making her large eyes beneath delicate willow-branch eyebrows all the more striking, alight with keen intelligence.

Her spirited gaze only accentuated her companion’s distracted air.

She chuckled. “Jing, when a man stops speaking to you, it’s because he’s angry.”

Du Lingjing had realized as much. “Truly this angry?”

Angry enough to refuse speaking to her entirely.

Hu Tingjun explained that there had been a grave misunderstanding.

She carefully analyzed the situation.

“Think about it. We asked for his help, and he agreed. Then the Earl of Rongchang’s incident happened, and you assumed he wasn’t on our side, so you left on your own. But the Marquis never once intended to harm us.”

“He had no ill will—indeed, he went so far as to sacrifice his own interests to help us. Or rather, to help you. And yet you distrusted him. How could he not be angry?”

She added that it wasn’t just anger. “There’s probably hurt too.”

Hurt?

Du Lingjing’s mind flashed to the darkness that had clouded his gaze…

Hu Tingjun said she couldn’t be entirely blamed. “After all, you’ve only been married two months, and it was through imperial mandate. Trusting someone completely in such a short time isn’t easy.”

Especially when that someone was the Marquis of Yongding.

And especially when Jing’s heart still held traces of Jiang Jieyuan.

Hu Tingjun couldn’t help but ask, “Does he know about you and Jiang Jieyuan?”

Du Lingjing nodded. “I told him directly.”

Hu Tingjun was startled.

A bride harboring affection for another man was already taboo—yet her friend had actually confessed it outright.

That was just like Jing—she always treated others with the utmost sincerity.

But the Marquis of Yongding was no ordinary man. He was a genuine power at court, far beyond the likes of Shao Boju.

She hesitantly asked, “Then… how has the Marquis treated you since the marriage?”

Du Lingjing answered immediately, “Very well.”

She almost didn’t think before repeating the words “very well.” Hu Tingjun blinked. It seemed his treatment of her was no less than Jiang Jieyuan’s had been.

Jiang Jieyuan had been the very model of a gentle scholar, his devotion to Jing something Hu Tingjun had witnessed firsthand.

The Marquis of Yongding, in contrast, was decisive and formidable, a man who inspired awe across the realm—a world apart from Jiang Jieyuan. Yet his treatment of Jing was no less tender…

It was a pity Jing’s heart still held onto ghosts of the past.

But the imperial decree had joined them in marriage. The past could no longer remain—what mattered now was cherishing the present.

Still, given Jing’s nature, preaching to her would do little good.

Hu Tingjun got straight to the point. “Given what you’ve said, small wonder the Marquis is hurt and angry, refusing to speak to you. You ought to offer a proper apology.”

A proper apology? Du Lingjing was willing, yet she wavered. “If he won’t even talk to me, how am I to make amends?”

There lay the difficulty.

When making amends, one must cater to the other's preferences.

Hu Tingjun lowered her voice even further, "What are you two like normally? I mean when no one else is around."

Just the two of them? Du Lingjing wasn’t sure how to answer that question and thought for a moment.

"The Marquis is very attentive. If I wake up thirsty at night, he gets up before me and brings me warm tea."

That was the first thing that came to Du Lingjing’s mind.

Back in her hometown in Qingzhou, whether it was Qiu Lin or Ai Ye attending to her at night, she often couldn’t bear to wake them and would put on a robe and fetch water herself.

But since marrying him, she'd never needed to lift a hand...

As she said this, she noticed Tingjun was stunned.

Tingjun’s mind went blank.

The mighty Marquis of Yongding, whom people outside couldn’t even dream of currying favor with—was he personally serving our Jing?

Tingjun couldn’t picture it, but looking at her friend again, she felt a surge of pride—our Jing was truly remarkable!

"Then apologizing will be easy," Hu Tingjun said, now understanding the situation.

She told Du Lingjing, "No need for gifts, just an apology will do. Normally, the Marquis takes care of you. Today, reverse the roles—pay him some attention. Even just pouring him tea once or grinding ink for him will mend his hurt feelings."

Du Lingjing frowned slightly, "Just that?"

He had helped her so much—would some words and tea really make up for it?

Wouldn’t that seem too insincere?

She thought about how, for the sake of finding someone, he had first opened Guilin Pavilion for her and then came personally to Baoding.

But he seemed to have everything—what could she possibly give him?

Perhaps not being a burden to him was already the best she could do...

As she turned these thoughts over in her mind, Tingjun suddenly interrupted her.

"Don’t overthink it. If you trust me, just take the initiative—pouring tea is enough."

She added firmly, "Remember, just do for him what he usually does for you. I guarantee the Marquis won’t be angry with you by tomorrow!"

She spoke with absolute certainty.

Du Lingjing found it oddly amusing.

Would the Marquis really be so easily appeased, as she claimed?

But she had no better ideas herself.

"I’ll remember," she said.

Soon after, she left the courtyard where the Hu siblings were staying and returned to her own quarters to change into fresh clothes.

As Qiu Lin helped her redo her hair and change, she couldn’t help but reflect on how the Marquis had come in person this time. Without him, her mistress wouldn’t have descended the mountain unscathed—just a dirtied hem and not a single hair out of place.

Ruan Gong had reminded her earlier that their most important duty was to ensure their mistress prospered.

She had once thought that no matter what, the Marquis could never compare to Third Master, and with the imperial decree forcing the marriage, her mistress had been bitterly opposed.

But now... Qiu Lin called out to Du Lingjing, "My lady, you should stay with the Marquis tonight? Ai Ye and I will pack your things and have them moved over."

Since she was going to make amends, Du Lingjing assumed she wouldn’t be returning tonight.

She nodded in agreement but gave Qiu Lin a thoughtful look.

This time, that man had truly done her a great favor—even Qiu Lin’s attitude had shifted.

Pondering these unfamiliar feelings and recalling Tingjun’s "advice," she made her way to his quarters.

When she arrived, Lu Shenru was speaking with someone beneath the covered walkway.

Several letters had arrived from the capital. He had opened and read two, giving immediate orders, but a few required his personal reply.

Yet as soon as he finished addressing the first matter, a skirt's hem fluttered into his line of sight.

He remained still, continuing to listen to the report from the capital.

An early plum tree stood at the corner of the corridor, its buds clenched against the cold.

The messenger finished his report, noticing that though the Marquis appeared to listen, occasionally responding, his eyes kept straying past the plum tree's budding branches to the pale pink skirts swaying on the other side of the courtyard.

The skirt fluttered in the breeze, like plum blossoms beginning to bloom.

Lu Shenru’s gaze lingered for a few extra moments, but when she looked up, he coolly looked away as if he hadn’t noticed her at all.

Du Lingjing waited briefly, but seeing him deep in conversation without so much as a glance her way, she raised the door curtain and entered the room first.

The man’s gaze, from the corner of his eye, followed the sway of her skirt for a few more seconds.

Once inside, Du Lingjing told Qiu Lin to prepare tea.

Qiu Lin thought she was chilled and wanted something warm, but instead, Du Lingjing had her set the tea down and fetch another cup.

Qiu Lin quickly obeyed, then quickly withdrew before the Marquis entered.

The man finished his affairs within half an hour and turned toward the room.

The moment he stepped inside, Du Lingjing looked up.

This time, he met her gaze, but his lips pressed together, his expression still dark from earlier gloom. Without a word, he sat at the desk.

Chong’an presented several letters and imperial edicts before swiftly departing. The Marquis began reviewing them in silence.

When the room fell quiet, Du Lingjing rose.

Lu Shenru noticed his wife stand and walk toward him.

He kept 'studying' the letter in his hands, but from the corner of his eye, he saw her approaching with tea.

Without any affected grace or flattery, her fine-boned hands set down the cup at his elbow as she spoke softly.

"Marquis, have some tea."

She didn’t leave immediately but stood quietly by his desk, awaiting his reply.

Her sleeve grazed his desk—and seemingly, his heart—softening something inside him.

But he resisted the urge to look at her, responding with a slightly indifferent "Mhm" before lifting the teacup to take a small sip.

The tea from Baoding had somehow turned unexpectedly sweet. Just that faint sip sent a burst of sweetness spreading across his tongue.

Lu Shenru knew, of course, that it wasn’t the tea that was sweet. He held back, taking just that one sip before setting the cup down, deliberately placing it farther away as if by accident.

She lingered by his desk, not budging.

Du Lingjing hadn’t left, but seeing his cold response, she doubted Tingjun’s advice was working.

The man lifted his gaze slightly, glancing at his wife, catching the hint that she might leave.

Pressing his lips together, he set aside the opened letter and reached for a blank sheet of paper to write a reply.

Yet just as he picked up the paper, the same slender hand that brought his tea now picked up his inkstick.

"Allow me to grind the ink for you, my lord."

She poured water into the inkstone, holding back one sleeve as she ground the ink.

She had changed into a clean, pale pink pleated skirt and a white outer robe trimmed in silver thread. As she rolled up her sleeve to grind the ink, round and round, the hard ink slowly melted into the clear water of the inkstone.

Lu Shenru felt something he couldn’t quite name.

When had she ever treated him like this?

He pressed his lips together, silent, as he dipped his brush into the ink she had prepared. Staring at the letter before him, he wondered what had this sender done to deserve ink she’d ground herself for his reply.

Once the ink was ready, she didn’t stay at his desk. His gaze followed her as she turned away, but she didn’t go far—instead, she picked up a book and sat at the table by the window, directly opposite his desk.

Just as he often did at home, bringing work to the main courtyard to sit with her as she read. Now, it was his turn to sit at the desk while she accompanied him by the window with a book…

He knew he couldn’t stay mad. She must’ve gotten some expert tips.

A cup of tea, an inkstone, a few words, quiet companionship with a book…

The man closed his eyes.

It was getting late.

Whatever it was could wait till morning.

About half an hour later, he had nearly finished his tasks. After instructing Chong Ping on two matters at the door, he returned to the room to find her already washed, the book placed on the table, and herself dressed in simple sleepwear, sitting by the bed and looking at him.

This time, she didn’t speak—only tilting her head slightly, wordlessly asking if he’d finished.

Du Lingjing’s heart raced.

The entire evening had passed without him speaking to her. Had Tingjun’s method failed?