Chapter 58

Chapter 58

"I haven't heard about him in many years."

It felt like a drop of bitter, sour liquid had fallen into her mouth.

Du Lingjing watched the utterly calm expression in NianJia's eyes. The one who'd once been closest to her—after all these years, she never got the ending she had hoped for with him. All that was left was this one comment: she hadn’t heard his news in so long...

Du Lingjing didn’t bring it up again, only gently took NianJia’s hand and called for refreshments.

The servants swiftly laid out four large platters of pastries, each as exquisite as palace fare.

NianJia perked up slightly as she eyed the four plates of delicate, sweet treats, unsure which to choose. One plate featured Shaanxi-style pastries, which she ignored entirely, but her eyes lit on one particular item from another plate of Shandong-style desserts.

"Liaohua candy? It looks just like the kind from Longfu Temple—the ones you love."

Du Lingjing had only just noticed the Liaohua candy among the spread. It was indeed from Longfu Temple, still warm, as if freshly bought.

She gave it a fleeting glance. NianJia, however, remarked,

"Longfu Temple is much closer to Prince Yu's Mansion than it is to the Marquis of Yongding's residence. If you come to my place, I guarantee you’ll have warm Liaohua candy too."

She pressed the invitation—this time not through a formal note but in person.

Du Lingjing merely smiled faintly, at a loss for words.

But NianJia scrutinized her.

"Jing, your reaction is a bit off."

Du Lingjing didn’t want to elaborate on her situation with that person, so she only said, "If you have time, just come visit me here."

Yet this response only made NianJia raise her brows higher.

"What do you mean? Does Lu Shenru keep you on such a tight leash? Then what if I send you a formal invitation under Prince Yu's Mansion’s name? Would even that be forbidden?"

Du Lingjing didn’t answer.

He had kept her confined to the estate. Allowing NianJia to visit was already a concession.

A lakeside breeze carried the fragrance of the pastries on the table.

Getting no explanation, NianJia lowered her gaze and refilled her tea, her voice soft.

"I was especially happy when you returned to the capital, but..."

Suddenly, the realization hit her.

"Lu Shenru has confined you in the marquis’s residence?!"

The moment the words left her lips, she saw Jing’s hand falter.

It was true! NianJia was stunned.

A soft breeze stirred, brushing against her cheeks and lightly lifting strands of her hair. She sat sideways, her head slightly bowed, her pale neck framed by the soft caress of her locks.

Even the wind couldn’t bear to blow harshly upon her, only touching her with such tenderness.

How could Lu Shenru bear to mistreat her, to confine her and forbid her from leaving?

In the distance, two figures watched, their gaze sweeping across the shimmering reflections on the lake, landing on the Mingqin Pavilion where they sat.

Du Lingjing sensed the gaze and looked over. A man stood beneath the lakeside pavilion, and she immediately turned her head away.

He had confined her, but there was little else he could do to her.

Yet NianJia suddenly stood up.

"Lu Shenru has gone too far! I’ll go confront him!"

Du Lingjing hurriedly tried to stop her, but it was no use.

The lake shimmered with emerald ripples. Just as Marquis Lu withdrew his gaze from the Mingqin Pavilion, NianJia marched over angrily.

"Marquis Lu, what a feat—keeping your own wife prisoner. Aren’t you bullying her too much? Do you think she has no family to stand up for her?"

She demanded, "Let her go this instant!"

The man pretended not to hear, calmly pouring himself more tea.

NianJia snapped, "I, Your Highness, order you to let her go!"

Her words only drew a cold chuckle from him before he finally lifted his eyes to look at her.

"Such impressive authority, Your Highness. It seems you’ve grown tired of the capital already and wish to return to Xi’an."

"You—"

His unshaken demeanor nearly made NianJia speechless with rage.

But aside from Marquis Jing’an’s faction fighting pirates in the south, every northern commander answered to Marquis Lu’s command.

He had sent Wei Cong back to Shaanxi—she, too, would have to return to Xi’an.

Yet NianJia was past caring. If even she didn’t dare to speak up for Jing, who else would?

Staring at the powerful Marquis Lu, she suddenly scoffed.

"What a cruel joke of fate that you ended up marrying Jing. A shame you’ve only trapped her by your side—she can’t leave, but the man she once envisioned as her husband was nothing like you."

She left the name unspoken, only muttered, "A gentle, cultivated man, as warm as jade and as modest as bamboo—that’s the kind of husband Jing had in her heart."

The moment she finished, she saw the man fall silent, his expression darkening.

NianJia thought triumphantly—

Jiang's third son would never have acted like this.

But then Marquis Lu suddenly laughed and said, "Very well."

"It seems Your Highness has no wish to stay in my residence any longer."

He looked at NianJia. "I'll not escort you out."

NianJia had no intention of leaving, but the guards at his side stepped forward, motioning her to leave.

In all her years in Xi’an, none had dared to be so insolent. Fury burned within her.

Du Lingjing hurried after her.

NianJia naturally didn't want her pleading with this man, so she simply said,

"Don't worry, Jing. I’ll go back first and come to see you in a couple of days. There are plenty of capable people in the capital—I refuse to believe nobody can handle him!"

Du Lingjing sighed and escorted NianJia all the way to the gate of the marquisate. But before she could step out, the guards at the door stopped her.

"My Lady, you may not leave."

She had no choice but to halt. NianJia grumbled under her breath for a while before finally departing.

Du Lingjing watched her go until she disappeared into the distance, standing at the gate transfixed for a long while. But when she turned around, she walked straight into someone’s chest.

His hand closed around her arm.

But Du Lingjing had no desire to speak another word to him. Shaking off his hand, she marched straight back to the main courtyard.

……

In the outer courtyard’s Distant Peaks Pavilion.

Chong Ping had initially thought that since the marquis had invited Princess NianJia today, it was at least an olive branch toward his wife. Perhaps the two could ease their tensions.

The wife remained in the main courtyard, silently buried in manuscript revisions, while the marquis stayed in Distant Peaks Pavilion, his expression frosty enough to scare off birds.

Who would have thought that after Princess NianJia’s visit, what had seemed like a thaw in relations had now frozen over again?

Chong Ping didn’t dare say much. He could only step forward to report that an invitation had arrived for the 77th birthday celebration of the Marchioness of Jing'an.

The Marquis of Jing'an was of Marquis Lu’s grandfather’s generation. The one celebrating her birthday was the Marchioness herself. The Marquis of Jing'an was far away in Fujian and couldn’t return, but his wife remained in the capital’s marquis residence, even received frequent visits from the Emperor and Empress.

This birthday celebration was deliberately orchestrated by the palace for the Zhou family to host on a grand scale, demonstrating imperial favor toward the House of Jing'an.

The Zhou and Lu families had an unusual relationship. When Marquis Lu saw the invitation, he asked Chong Ping how the preparations for the birthday gifts were coming along.

After discussing the gifts briefly, Chong Ping produced another invitation.

"It’s from the residence of Count Zhongqing."

Marquis Lu raised an eyebrow. Had Princess NianJia just left, only for another invitation to arrive? It would depend on whether he was willing to receive them.

But Chong Ping clarified, "It wasn’t sent by the princess. It’s from the heir apparent, seeking an audience with you."

The Heir Apparent of Count Zhongqing—NianJia’s husband, Wei Cong.

His return to the capital this time was clearly for some covert matter, under the guise of recuperating from illness.

Marquis Lu nodded and instructed Chong Ping to arrange for Wei Cong to visit in a few days.

After relaying the message, a steward arrived with news that an army officer had come to the capital, bringing gifts for the marquis.

Marquis Lu naturally had no time to examine them closely, but as he skimmed the list, his gaze landed on a pair of blessed fertility figurines.

Seeing where the marquis’s eyes lingered, Chong Ping thought to himself: Before the marquis had married, the military officers had been far more anxious than he was, forever scheming to discover what kind of woman he preferred, hoping to send a few concubines his way.

The entire Yongding Army relied on the stability of the Lu family’s foundation and the marquis’s firm grip on power to maintain their military position without being bullied by the appeasement-minded civil officials.

Back then, they had fretted over the marquis’s refusal to marry. Now that he had finally taken a marchioness, they had shifted their concern to his heirs.

But given the current state between the marquis and his wife… Chong Ping could only sigh inwardly.

Yet as Marquis Lu stared at the porcelain figurines on the gift list, he inexplicably recalled NianJia’s barbed remarks before she left—

"What a twist of fate that you ended up marrying Jing. It’s a pity—you may have married her and trapped her by your side so she can’t leave, but the husband she once envisioned in her heart was nothing like you."

"That scholarly, refined gentleman, as warm as jade and as modest as bamboo—that was the husband Jing had in mind…"

The man suddenly gave an order.

"Tell the maid to light incense in the main chamber tonight."

*

Du Lingjing had gone through some letters from scholars and briefly replied to some.

But after finishing, she propped her chin on her hand, pondering what Shopkeeper Zhao had mentioned.

Shopkeeper Zhao had said that the literati all wished to meet her at Guilin Tower, but upon hearing she was at the marquis’s residence, none were willing to come. They’d rather write letters than set foot in Marquis Lu’s estate.

Du Lingjing didn't know what to make of it.

But whether it was Guilin Tower, the printing loans, or even the manpower and connections with various publishers—which of these could be separated from that man’s influence?

He provided money, effort, and personnel, never stopping just because scholars constantly denounced him as a power-grasping flatterer.

After some thought, Du Lingjing instructed Ruan Gong, "Next time Shopkeeper Zhao comes, tell him that from now on, any book published under Guilin Tower’s name must include the Lu family mark."

Ruan Gong started. "That might make them unsellable."

The marquis’s reputation was enough to make scholars who despised him recoil at the very sight of the character "Lu."

Du Lingjing was well aware, but she said, "Credit where credit's due. Whether people buy it or not is their concern, but whether we print it or not is ours."

As she spoke, she caught Ruan Gong’s look and added,

"I don’t want to borrow his merits to build my own name."

For just a heartbeat, Ruan Gong had thought the madam might be willing to reconcile with the marquis. But it seemed he had hoped for too much.

Ruan Gong accepted the order and left, while Du Lingjing cleared her desk and returned to the main chamber.

Yet the moment she stepped inside, she noticed a strange scent.

The incense, a subtler blend prepared by the maidservant, hadn’t been lit in many days.

Now its scent had already filled the air, drifting like butterflies—lightly resting on the table’s edge, by the curtains, on the floor.

But Du Lingjing wanted none of it.

She turned immediately to extinguish the incense in the burner.

Yet as she spun around, the man crossed the threshold, lifting the curtain as he entered.

He had changed into a jet-black brocade robe embroidered with gold-threaded pavilions. The moment their eyes met, the faintly hovering scent seemed to swirl and rise again.

The fragrance hung heavy in the chamber.

Afraid he might misunderstand, Du Lingjing hurried to explain, "The maid was mistaken."

Unexpectedly, he replied, "The maid wasn’t wrong."

Du Lingjing froze, looking at him again as he whispered.

"Let's have a child."

Her eyes widened, but the man offered no further explanation, merely undoing the buttons at his collar.

In mere moments, he had stripped off his clothes layer by layer. The candlelight flickered in the room as he shed his inner robe and tossed it aside, leaving only his bare, heaving chest bathed in the golden glow, glistening as if slick with oil, rising and falling.

Du Lingjing quickly averted her gaze, wanting to ask what he intended. But he, clad only in his trousers, put out the extra lamps and strode forward, lifting her by the legs and hoisting her high into his arms.

His arms coiled around her effortlessly, as if she were weightless.

Yet he had never held her like this before—now she was practically seated on his arm, her balance unsteady, making her cling to his shoulder.

But his body was burning hot, his slick chest truly like hot oil, and even through the fabric of her clothes, the searing heat radiated into her, making her entire body flush with warmth.

Their breathing grew ragged. He tilted his head up to gaze at her intently, as if sensing how her body burned alongside his and how their breathing quickened.

Du Lingjing panicked.

"Put me down!"

He lowered his voice. "No."

He carried her toward the bed.

She struggled harder, desperate to break free, but her efforts were futile against his strength.

Unable to escape, she struggled in the flickering lamplight, her hands striking his bare, unmoving shoulders.

"Let me go!"

But this time, her palms met his skin directly—no fabric in between—and his burning skin scorched her palms.

Whether it was her imagination or if he truly burned so fiercely, Du Lingjing didn’t know where to place her hands.

In that fleeting moment, he carried her straight to the bed.

The bed curtains' scent grew heavier.

Lu Shenru noticed the flush deepening on her face, the wrists and ankles he held growing hotter in his grasp.

His voice softened as he repeated,

"*Quan Quan*, let's have a child."

As the bed curtains fell, Du Lingjing was truly furious.

"I don’t want to!"

But he said nothing, only shifting her to the corner of the bed, pinning her firmly against it.

The fragrance made her skin flush hotter, sweat beading on her skin. She squirmed away, but the slightest movement only pressed her closer to his fiery body.

She gasped.

Seizing the opportunity, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

His scent permeated every hair, mingling with the incense, carrying memories of their intimacy.

And they knew each other’s bodies too well.

With just the slightest shift from him, she shivered.

"Lu Shenru!" she spat furiously, her eyes reddening.

The man stilled. Hearing his full name felt like ice water.

In their tender moments, though she had never been one for sweet words, she would still call him softly, "*Wei Shi*."

But now...

His eyes darkened as he stared down at her.

"You call me Lu Shenru?"

Only his political enemies at court addressed him so formally by his full name.

Now even she had spoken it.

His lips pressed into a thin line. He was about to turn away—until he saw a single tear slip from her reddened eyes.

Lu Shenru froze completely.

Panic gripped him. Finding no handkerchief, he cradled her face in his hands.

She turned her head, but he didn’t release her, his thumb brushing the tear tracks beneath her eyes.

But she cried harder.

Completely helpless, the more he wiped, the harder she cried.

"Don't cry," he begged.

Du Lingjing shot him a teary glare.

At a loss, he turned and called for Qiu Lin.

Qiu Lin and Ai Ye were waiting just outside. He instructed Qiu Lin to fetch a handkerchief and then summoned Ai Ye.

"Put out the incense in the burner and open all the windows and doors!"

The night air swept in, and soon the room cooled.

But Du Lingjing refused to acknowledge him. Lu Shenru could only tell Qiu Lin, "Stay with Madam tonight."

Qiu Lin didn’t respond either.

With a sigh, he gave one last look at his wife—still refusing to meet his eyes.

"...Then I’ll go."

*

Only when he turned did Du Lingjing lift her eyes to watch his solitary figure disappear into the night.

The next day at court, Grand Secretary Dou, taking in the thunderous expression on a certain man’s face, stroked his beard, amused.

"Marquis Lu, why such a dark mood?"

"What concern is it of yours, Grand Secretary Dou?" the Marquis replied coldly. Undeterred, the old man smiled. "I’ve advised you before—you must learn to let go. If you can’t let go of the person, at least let go of the feelings."

After all, she’s his wife—it’s not like she can remarry.

But Marquis Lu flicked his sleeve, brushing past the grand secretary who was there for the spectacle, and strode into the grand hall ahead of him.

The court had no major business today. The metropolitan examination had concluded, and grading wouldn’t be done until mid-February, after which the palace examination, attended by the Emperor, would follow.

An official reported that this year’s spring examination candidates had increased by ten percent compared to previous years. "Your Majesty will surely have talents as plentiful as clouds."

The Emperor loved talent, especially young talent. He nodded and assigned officials to arrange the palace examination.

"We’ll personally examine them."

Marquis Lu listened to the discussion about the spring examination and, upon leaving the palace, summoned Chong Ping. He said Jiang Fengchuan was still pulling tricks right before the exam and would surely fail—kick him out now.

"If he refuses to leave, break his legs!"

Chong Ping fell silent.

If he really broke Jiang Liulang’s legs, the Marquis could kiss any reconciliation goodbye.

But before Chong Ping could respond, a eunuch came rushing up from behind.

"Marquis, the Imperial Noble Consort summons you."

*

Yuxing Palace.

When Lu Shenru arrived, the corridor stood silent, no flute music today. The eunuch said Prince Hui had gone to study with his tutor.

Lu Shenru nodded but noticed a string of seashell wind chimes hanging at the entrance of his young nephew’s chamber.

His breath caught.

It was something she had loved in her youth. He had been reluctant to let her give it away, yet she had still ordered it brought from Qingzhou, polished every shell with her own hands, and sent it to the palace.

"Does His Highness like it?" he asked.

The eunuch gushed that he adored it. "His Highness often says the Marchioness has brought the eastern sea breeze to the capital."

The words hit him like a wave.

She truly had carried the clean, refreshing sea breeze into this cesspool of a capital—only...

His eyes lingered on the wind chimes for a long while until someone came to inform him that the Consort awaited him in the rear pavilion.

Marquis Lu turned and made his way there, stepping into the pavilion.

"What does my sister need?"

Lu Huairu glanced at him, taking in the bruises beneath his eyes—clearly, he hadn’t slept well for nights.

Even Grand Secretary Dou couldn’t have wrecked him this badly.

Self-inflicted wounds always hurt the most.

She went straight to the point.

"Let Jing go."

Yet before she could finish, the man turned and walked away.

Lu Huairu’s breath seized.

When it came to matters of marriage, she’d long since given up on romance. She would never have a happy ending for herself in this lifetime, but she didn’t want her brother to drive away the one person who’d finally gotten under his skin.

She flung the words at his back.

"With your hardheaded, stone-cold temper, no wonder nobody wants to make up with you."