Chapter 24 “A Wife in Name and Reality”

Chapter 24: "A Wife in Name and Reality"

Flustered, I hurried to the Eastern Palace with Little White. The steward didn't stop me; instead, he kindly offered to look after my pet.

I went straight to Xie Yan’s room and found him sitting on the bed, reading. His back was straight as a pine, his face deathly pale. As his fingertips turned the pages, blood seeping from his back had already soaked through his inner robe.

Hearing my hurried footsteps, he slowly looked up. His gray eyes were as cold as winter snow, his lips pressed into a tight, flat line. His voice was distant and aloof. “What are you doing here?”

I was accustomed to Xie Yan’s cold and arrogant demeanor, but I had never seen him so pale—even his lips seemed drained of color. My heart clenched, and my voice came out hoarse. “I… I heard you were injured. I came to… see you.”

“Now that you’ve seen me?” Xie Yan snapped the book shut with a sharp sound, his pale fingers pointing toward the door. “Leave.”

His wounds hadn’t even fully healed, yet he was acting like this. I could clearly see blood staining the back of his robe. With no other choice, I ran to the steward and asked him to summon the Imperial Physician to redress his wounds.

When I returned to the room, Xie Yan was no longer reading but gazing blankly at the peach blossom tree outside the window, a hint of loneliness in his expression. When he saw me, he seemed momentarily dazed, a flicker of emotion stirring in his composed phoenix eyes before they settled back into calm.

After the Imperial Physician finished treating Xie Yan’s wounds and left, I sat by his bedside, facing him in silence. He treated me as if I were invisible, ignoring me completely. Several times I tried to speak, but each time I opened my mouth, he turned away, presenting his back to me.

Helplessly, I sighed, took off my shoes, and cautiously climbed onto the bed, moving with feline grace. As soon as I placed one foot on the mattress, Xie Yan grabbed me.

His hand clamped tightly around my ankle, his phoenix eyes fierce, as if warning he’d break my foot if I dared move.

I had no choice but to surrender, raising both hands. “Let go first. I have something to say.”

This time, he didn’t resist and immediately released my foot—so abruptly it was as if he’d been shocked, as though my skin carried some untouchable poison.

Once free, I placed my hands on either side of him, careful not to press on his injuries, and spoke slowly. “Why did you refuse the Emperor’s arranged marriage?”

“What does it matter to you?”

Xie Yan’s expression darkened, his tone impatient. He pushed me toward the inner side of the bed, as if repulsed by even the slightest contact with me.

Unfazed, I continued, “Xie Yan, if you don’t explain why you refused the marriage today, I’ll assume it was for my sake—that you rejected marrying Jiang Qingling and gave up the immense support her family could offer because of me.”

“If you don’t clarify, I’ll keep believing that.”

“Absurd.”

Xie Yan seemed too weary to explain further and picked up his book again. I lay beside him, propping my head on one hand, gazing at his cold, distant features, just as we had spent countless nights together.

Those turbulent emotions—love and hatred, misunderstandings, jealousy, obsession—drifted away with the turning pages and the summer cicadas’ song. Unspoken compromises and silence became our only understanding.

As I watched him, I gradually drifted into a restless sleep. When I woke, I found myself once again in Xie Yan’s arms. Even in sleep, he was mindful of his wound, lying on his side, yet still holding me tightly. I could hear the steady beat of his heart against my ear, and when I looked up, I saw his pale lips.

On impulse, I couldn’t help but kiss his cold, firm lips—a fleeting, guilty brush—and instantly, a cool hand gripped my chin.

Xie Yan’s lips claimed mine, his demanding kisses trailing from my mouth to my neck, leaving faint bite marks behind.

He was venting his frustration, using this intimacy to release the fury bottled inside. I didn’t resist; instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck and met his tongue obediently.

Neither of us mentioned that night’s unpleasantness again, but silently, we returned to how things used to be.

Perhaps the Emperor had given up on the arranged marriage, because Xie Yan stopped going out during his free hours. Instead, he supervised my calligraphy and chess practice. Occasionally, when I pleaded earnestly, he would take me to enjoy the lake, admire the moon, or fish by the stream.

Intimacy arose naturally. Often, I was the one to initiate—leaning in to kiss the corner of his lips—only to be kissed back until breathless, my earlobes burning. It reached a point where even a glance could spark desire.

Like now, for instance. We had just attended the palace’s Hundred Flowers Banquet and were passing a secluded corner. Sheltered by the rockery, I couldn’t resist teasing him, rising on tiptoe to kiss him. Instead, he pressed me against the rocks, held my waist, and kissed me until I was dizzy with passion, my toes tingling as if walking on clouds.

“In broad daylight, who dares commit such shameless acts here!” A furious voice rang out, carrying the authority and wrath of the Son of Heaven. “Come out at once!”

Who else in the world would refer to himself as “We”?

I realized I’d caused a disaster and began to tremble. Xie Yan, however, remained calm. He stepped forward first, and I could only follow with my head lowered.

“Xie Yan! It’s you!”

The Emperor’s voice shifted from anger to shock, as if astonished that his usually reserved son could behave this way. But the next moment, he saw me following closely behind, and his rage flared hotter than before.

“With that fox-spirit appearance, I always knew you were no good. Now you dare seduce my Crown Prince!”

The Emperor raised his foot to kick me as I knelt. I didn’t dare dodge, trembling helplessly in place. But Xie Yan moved forward on his knees and took the blow for me.

“Father, it has nothing to do with him. Let him go.”

Hearing Xie Yan say this, I immediately wanted to explain to the Emperor, but Xie Yan shook his head at me. His expression was stern and fierce, warning me not to speak. I could only stay silent, afraid of making things worse.

Xie Yan was detained, and I was sent home. Anxiously, I waited for news of him, too afraid to return to the Eastern Palace lest I further enrage the Emperor.

I waited until late at night but received no word. The more I thought about it, the more panicked I became. I stared blankly out the window, tears streaming down my face.

I had caused my mother’s death at birth. Was I now going to cost Xie Yan the Crown Prince position he had fought so hard for? The thought made my heart ache, and I wished I could die on the spot to atone.

Suddenly, a dark figure leapt through the window into my room. I nearly screamed, but the intruder covered my mouth. I recognized the familiar scent of cold pine—it was Xie Yan.

“Don’t make a sound.”

“Did the Emperor hurt you?”

I quickly checked Xie Yan for injuries and sighed in relief when I found none. “Did he punish you? Will you keep your position as Crown Prince? I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have caused you trouble.”

Guilt overwhelmed me, and I wanted to bury my head in shame. Tears fell to the floor, forming small puddles.

I didn’t mean to—but why did I always ruin everything?

Xie Yan sighed helplessly, pressing my head against his chest and gently wiping my tears with his fingertips.

His expression was calm, but through my blurred vision, I saw rare tenderness in his eyes, as if he were looking at a spoiled, crying child.

When my tears finally subsided, Xie Yan wrapped an arm around my waist and sat me down on the daybed. Pinching my cheek, his face still cold, his phoenix eyes hiding deep emotion, he said, “It’s fine. We just can’t let him catch us together again.”

I relaxed, lazily resting my head on him. “That’s good. Today really scared me.”

“Coward,” Xie Yan mocked coldly. He lifted my face, his sharp eyes fixed on me, and suddenly asked, “Do you love your Father more, or me?”

“Father,” I answered without hesitation.

“Then do you love your Father more, or yourself?”

“Father,” I replied again, without pause, even explaining, “My Father gave me life and cherishes me so much. Of course I love him most.”

Xie Yan pursed his lips, seemingly dissatisfied, and continued, “If one day only you or your Father could survive, which would you choose?”

I didn’t consider the implications behind his question, only noticing how serious he looked, his brows furrowed like a stubborn old man.

“Of course, my Father should live! My life was given by my parents. How could I be unfilial?”

I answered as if it were obvious, grinning widely at Xie Yan. Now that I knew Xie Yan hadn’t suffered any real consequences, the weight lifted from my shoulders, and I felt light again.

“Mm.” Xie Yan murmured faintly. His handsome face bathed in cold moonlight, ethereal like a celestial immortal, his eyes filled with unspoken worries. He parted his lips slightly and whispered, “I’m exactly the opposite.”

"What do you mean by the opposite? What does that even mean?" I urgently grabbed his collar and pressed for an answer, but he wore a look of unwillingness to discuss it, carried me to the bed, and flatly ordered me to sleep.

Holding me in his arms, he listened to my rambling words, occasionally responding with a few quiet phrases. Gazing at the bright moonlight outside the window, I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of contentment.

The bright moon had come into my arms—this must be what it feels like.

Xie Yan and I continued our secret meetings for a long time. By day, we acted as if we meant nothing to each other, but at night, he would lie beside me on the bed, watching the moon and talking, then leave my home early the next morning and walk the half-hour journey back to the Crown Prince’s estate.

I often stared blankly at his retreating figure, my eyes growing moist. Every day, I longed for him to come and spend the night with me, to walk together in the sunlight. This constant mix of hope and fear, these moments filled with love and melancholy, became the sweetest, most intoxicating poison in my brief life.

My father grew increasingly busy, with no time even to share a meal with me. He looked more and more haggard, and the lamp in his study burned through every night. I couldn’t persuade him to rest; he always brushed me off, saying things would get better soon.

The date for the journey to Jiangnan was set, coinciding with my birthday. I wanted to delay it, but my father, uncharacteristically firm, refused.

A strange sense of urgency overwhelmed me. Once we left for Jiangnan, I had no idea when we would return, and Xie Yan and I might never see each other again.

As if racing against time, I began frantic preparations for my nineteenth birthday.

The blazing red candles, the vibrant red double happiness symbols, the elaborate wedding robe, the bridal cup of wine, the red bridal veil—I wanted to give Xie Yan everything I had been too shy to express, to become his wife in every sense on my nineteenth birthday.