Chapter 69 Hairpin Gift: “It’s fine if you never like me.”

Chapter 69: Gift of a Hairpin: Even if she never likes it, it doesn't matter.

The opera actor on stage became impassioned, vivid and stirring, crying and laughing by turns, gradually reaching its climax.

When the scene of returning from the underworld was performed, the attendants timely drew the curtains tighter around the upper gallery, extinguished a few more candles, and beat small gongs rapidly like raindrops to create a grim atmosphere of crying and despair on stage.

Xie Tanwei also grew languid. In the darkness, his arm, wrapped around Xian Qiu, bypassed her and went straight to Tian Qin’s smooth neck, lightly sliding over her jet-black hair cascading like a waterfall, her small earlobes, and even the pair of small pearls below her earlobes. His breath spread clearly, frivolous and wanton, teasing without restraint, quietly indulging in moments more delightful than the opera.

Tian Qin dodged desperately, her earrings clinked crisply, but she sat upright, pretending nothing was wrong.

Xie Tanwei clearly felt her quivering lips and racing heart—she was a mess but pretending nothing was wrong. He took the notion, a low laugh echoing, and intensified his punishment.

Tian Qin’s spine stiffened abruptly. With Xian Qiu right there, how dare he?

The thunderous shouts and calls on stage, the fervent atmosphere, actually provided perfect cover for the sleaze in the shadows.

On stage, vibrant flowers bloomed everywhere—a noble love steadfast through life and death; off stage, morbidly paranoid cold confinement. Such stark contrast was an undeniably exhilarating drug.

Tian Qin barely held on for the length of a cup of tea, then finally lost in this silent confrontation. Her fingers were locked in his, all interest in the show destroyed.

His hand, with prominent knuckles, tinged with the theater's twilight, silently approached her lips. His thumb rubbed her red lips, gradually crossing boundaries, expertly making her uncomfortable, agitated, until unbearable.

He knew too well how to provoke her joy and anger—both in bed and out of it. His long, jade-white fingers pried open her lips, stretching them wide open, attempting to enter her warm mouth.

The five fingers connect to the heart; the hand’s movements reflect the heart’s intent. Due to their status, they couldn’t sit together, so he could only communicate with her this way. She should understand—he had taught her many times.

Forced to end this trouble quickly, Tian Qin brushed a kiss on his palm, as swift as a dragonfly skimming the water.

The ticklish sensation landed on his palm and was quickly swallowed up. Xie Tanwei narrowed his long eyes, pondering it. The tickle felt like tiny hooks, pulling at the lake of his heart, stirring ripples.

He couldn’t help demanding more. Reaching past the stiff Xian Qiu, his pale long fingers went straight toward Tian Qin’s throat, ordering her to bite.

Tian Qin had reached her limit. She flatly refused him, baring her white teeth, with the faint air of flipping the table in fury.

Xie Tanwei did not get what he wanted. His coldness spread in the darkness; he would not let it go easily. In an instant, the Love Gu took effect. Tian Qin’s head thundered; she felt something viciously gripping her heart, convulsing, numbness like ants gnawing layer upon layer climbing up her calves. At the same time, her whole body burned with unbearable pain, and hot tears flowed. Involuntarily, she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her own face as a lifeline.

He meant what he said and showed no mercy at all.

If she disobeyed, he would drive the Love Gu and use a whip to summon her, making her kneel before him, even in the theater.

She was his slave, his plaything—she should be subservient and never act aloof at any time.

Tian Qin closed her eyes and wept. Resigned, she opened her mouth and bit his finger to earn the Love Gu’s reprieve.

At first she only bit a little, then completely swallowed it. Xie Tanwei still wasn’t satisfied, punishing her until her jaw ached.

Xie Tanwei relished it, his actions becoming increasingly outrageous. Tian Qin, feeling immense humiliation, counterattacked by biting his finger fiercely, as if she wanted to break it off.

He gave a soft hiss; pain sparked pleasure. He didn’t hear a single word of the opera’s lyrics.

“Cough, cough…”

In the darkness, Tian Qin coughed uncontrollably, tears splashing from the corners of her eyes, her expression indistinct.

Xie Tanwei was still unsatisfied, wiping his fingers slowly and deliberately. They were stained with Tian Qin’s glistening saliva, like spider webs in the forest.

This war without smoke ended with his victory.

Xian Qiu seemed oblivious, leaning on Xie Tanwei’s shoulder all along. She neither spoke nor applauded, as if deeply absorbed in the tragedy and joy of the play.

On stage, actors played roles; off stage, they did as well. Everyone clung to their own roles. The prolonged torment lasted two hours before the opera finally ended.

“Excellent! Great!”

“Encore!”

…

The gallery was filled with high-pitched laughs of lingering enjoyment. Noble officials demanded extra scenes, threw tips, dancing girls flaunted their charms, held flowers in their mouths and drank. Joy was written on every face.

As the show ended, Xian Qiu wiped her face with a handkerchief, feeling melancholy over the script’s ending.

Xie Tanwei offered a token consolation: “Shall I have them change the script?”

Xian Qiu’s tears turned to laughter: “Then it would be fake.”

Xie Tanwei was somewhat distracted, seeing that his darling had already fled the seat, avoiding him like the plague, shrinking into the darkness beyond the lamplight like a little bug—an indescribably adorable sight.

He rose and let Xian Qiu go first on the narrow wooden steps, then quickly took hold of Tian Qin who was about to escape, his palm wrapping tightly around hers with unequivocal possessiveness.

Tian Qin glared at him fiercely, but to no avail. He was impervious to both soft and hard tactics. The more she resisted, the more he pulled her closer. She was a delicious fruit on a tree in his own orchard; he could pluck it whenever he wished.

Tian Qin stumbled, nearly tripping over her skirt on the wooden steps.

Xie Tanwei caught her in time, chiding “Be careful, little sister,” as if nothing had happened—the caring and tolerant brother-in-law.

But Tian Qin knew how special the way he supported her waist was—almost a suggestive pinch, and behind her back he whispered in her ear, “You must not walk faster than me.” Even walking, she had to stay close to him.

…

This whole spring outing was spent entirely in the marketplace, indulging in the theater, jostling in the crowds, never seeing the beautiful scenery of the spring river thawing and wild geese returning north outside the city.

Once back, Tian Qin angrily scrubbed and washed her hands, not stopping even after peeling off a layer of skin, her eyes rubbed red.

Zhaolu and Wan Cui had never seen Tian Qin like this and worried for her: “Miss, don’t wash anymore, it’s already clean. Let us apply a warm towel to your eyes.”

Tian Qin sobbed for a while, so angry she wanted to break things, but fearing that alarming people outside the garden would bring even worse consequences, she forcibly suppressed her rage and pounded the mattress.

When she went to the bronze mirror to remove her hair ornaments and wash, she saw a hairpin lying conspicuously on the table. It had an eggshell-blue body, kingfisher-blue dotting, elegant and petite, heavy and exquisitely crafted to an unbelievable degree—exactly the Biluo hairpin she had glanced at more than once in the Rare Curio Shop.

Tian Qin picked up the hairpin, alarm bells ringing: “Who put this here?”

Wan Cui answered honestly: “An hour ago, it was sent by a servant from the Lord’s courtyard.”

Tian Qin had mixed feelings, seeming even angrier. This plain hairpin, though unremarkable in appearance, was more valuable than all of Xian Qiu’s hair ornaments combined, and Xie Tanwei had actually bought it for her.

Back then, the one Xu Junzheng gave her was merely a fake, yet it was already stunning; the genuine article was ten times more exquisite.

Upon closer inspection, every detail of the Biluo hairpin had been tempered by time, as if it had captured misty, rain-laden black mountains spanning the hairline—a breathtaking beauty.

The things she liked were not necessarily the most dazzling, but they always suited her. This hairpin especially carried a memory—a period when she and Xu Junzheng had been in love, the most hopeful time of her life. It represented hope and was extraordinarily significant.

In the bronze mirror, she had light brows, big eyes, pouting lips with two dimples—still in her youthful prime.

Tian Qin pressed the slender Biluo hairpin into her hair, trying it on. Beautiful—truly beautiful—and genuinely precious. Her heart filled with annoyance; she couldn’t bring herself to lock this hairpin away in the storeroom like other things.

She couldn’t help but despise herself for being dazzled by wealth and luxury—admiring the beauty yet hating the control behind it; unable to completely succumb, yet also unable to remain indifferent to temptation. Because of this pitiful reward, she forgot his near-cruel torment.

“Is it beautiful?”

A sudden sound at her ear.

Tian Qin was so startled she nearly dropped the hairpin. Turning her head, she saw Xie Tanwei standing by the half-open carved door, his robes billowing in the night breeze, his expression as placid as the moon reflected in a clear stream, while outside the window behind him, the sky was fading beyond recall.

Instinctively, she tried to hide the Bili hairpin, unwilling to let him discover her fondness for such worldly trinkets. The hairpin tilted, catching a lock of her hair in her haste, and she gasped in pain.

Xie Tanwei deftly adjusted the hairpin, setting it straight and precisely back into her jet-black chignon. The bronze mirror reflected his downcast eyes, furrowed like mountain crests, wreathed in the scent of aloeswood.

"If you want to try it on, do it openly. I'm not some kind of monster."

His moist breath brushed against her ear, his lashes, long and thick as a fan. "Do you like it?"

"Tell me whatever else you like. I'll buy it all for you."

Tian Qin sullenly took down the Bili hairpin, her voice muffled as if under a quilt. "I don't want it."

"Why not?"

She had lingered so long at Qihuo Studio.

"That's your money."

She stressed, stubbornly clinging to that pretense, her rabbit-like red-rimmed eyes. "If I can't afford it myself, I won't buy it. I don't want your things; I won't owe you anything."

Xie Tanwei didn't scold her for her reckless impudence, but instead was surprisingly patient. "My money is yours. What difference does it make?"

Tian Qin retorted harshly, "It's different. Every extra copper I spend that comes from you means you have one more legitimate reason to tighten your grip on me."

The more she owed, the more she'd grow accustomed to a life of luxury, sinking deeper into the mire with no way out.

"Don't throw a tantrum."

Xie Tanwei gave a mild warning.

"These things are meant to let them know you're living well in the Xie family, to make others envy you. The ones your sister picked out, I've also had someone pack a set for you."

As he spoke, he opened a small hidden compartment in her dressing case, where neatly arranged loose silver coins lay—her hard-earned escape fund. "Little sister, isn't it money you want? There's much more than these bits of silver."

Tian Qin watched helplessly as he pulled open the compartment without a trace of hesitation, almost in shock, her heart in her throat—the secret she had racked her brains to conceal was exposed openly by him, as if it were nothing special.

She instinctively lunged to cover the compartment, as if protecting her hope of escape, shooting him a look of utter disgust.

"What are you doing?"

Xie Tanwei smiled, pinching her cheek to soothe the little thing. It was just silver; why so tense? She must think he's a monster. Who cared about such a paltry sum?

"Nothing. If you nicely accept my gifts, I'll leave you these bits of silver. Otherwise—"

Scorched earth.

The bits of silver were his money too; if she refused, he'd take them all away, leaving not a single coin.

Tian Qin was silent, neither agreeing nor saying she didn't want the Bili hairpin, clearly being manipulated again.

Xie Tanwei couldn't be bothered to argue further; it was just a spur-of-the-moment gift.

He heard her murmur, "...Why are you giving this to me? To give me alms? To prove your affection for my sister?"

Seeing her gloomy expression, he said solemnly, "What if I said it's only because you took a second look?"

"I don't like it," Tian Qin interrupted. "I will never like it, not in this life."

It seemed that what she didn't like might not be just the hairpin.

Was she referring to him? Xie Tanwei gave a faint, sardonic smile, a trace of discomfort stirring in his heart. He had indeed promised to let her marry when he grew tired of her, but he wasn't tired yet. Far from it; he only craved her more. In that case, how could he let her marry?

"You'll come to like it slowly."

He pinched her chin. "If you don't like it in one day, then a year. If not in one year, then three."

"...And if you never like it in a lifetime, that's fine too."

What he sought was never love. Just having her by his side was enough. All he demanded was her body—the simplest, most primal request. Love was never a necessity.

Tian Qin was let go, looking utterly dejected.

Gentle kindness, bribery with treasures. In his rules, as long as the sweet treats were sweet enough, they could outweigh the harm from the whip and house arrest.

But whether control or tenderness, both were methods of keeping her under house arrest, unable to change her status as a prisoner. She could only have what he gave; what he didn't give, she didn't even have the right to wish for.

She had truly become a dodder flower, a parasitic vine draining life from others.