Chapter 26

The water continued to splash, disturbed by chaotic ripples.

Xiao Xicao’s wide and flowing robes, now soaked, clung heavily to his body. Despite his refined features, his waist bore the softness of pampered flesh, drawing mocking laughter from Xin Zhi and others on the riverbank.

Amid the commotion, Yaoyao’s lashes fluttered. She lowered her gaze and quietly looked away.

There were still men resisting beneath the surface. Li Shan didn’t concern himself—he left it to Xin Zhi to handle. He turned, and beside him, Yaoyao hesitated in place. He looked at her and said, “Let’s go.”

After a moment, Yaoyao came back to herself. Her face had gone pale; she stared blankly at him. Li Shan frowned and grasped her wrist. She staggered slightly and followed him step by step.

It was the first time she had seen death up close. Though there was no blood, the discomfort and fear of confronting death itself lingered in her chest like mist.

…

Back at the Li residence, Li Shan went to see Li Wang. Killing Xiao Xicao hadn’t been part of the original plan—but now that it was done, he never wasted time pondering “what if.”

Just recalling the way Xiao Xicao had looked at Yaoyao was enough to reignite his fury. There had been more than a dozen members of the Xiao entourage on the riverbank, and over a hundred stationed in Shangdang. He had no intention of leaving survivors.

Word of the incident quickly reached Madam Qian. Though she’d asked Yaoyao to advise Li Shan, she’d remained uneasy and told Aunt Li to keep watch. When she learned that Li Shan had killed over a dozen people in one breath, she was stunned: “He’s that ruthless?”

Aunt Li answered in hushed tones, “Yes—he cut them down like a harvest.”

Madam Qian was at a loss. She had sent Yaoyao to advise him, but surely this was going too far?

She quickly asked, “Where is Xie Yaoyao?”

…

Yaoyao walked along the corridor outside the eastern residence, finally regaining her senses from the earlier dizziness. But she was still unsettled as she stepped inside. Lost in thought, she didn’t expect Madam Qian to suddenly lift the felt curtain, startling her.

After composing herself, Yaoyao bowed and said gently, “Mother-in-law, were you heading out?”

In truth, Madam Qian had been looking for her. She eyed her carefully, cleared her throat, and asked, “You were there when Li Shan killed those people?”

Yaoyao’s face paled again, and the jolt from earlier had left a soft flush around her eyes, like a frightened snow-white rabbit, so delicate it made one’s heart ache.

Madam Qian was momentarily stunned. She hadn’t realized that a startled woman could look so beautifully vivid. Feeling a bit awkward, she added, “I told you to talk to him—if you didn’t want to go, you could’ve just said so. No need to be so shaken.”

Her tone wasn’t exactly gentle, but Yaoyao immediately understood the hidden kindness in her words—Madam Qian was giving her permission to refuse.

Yaoyao’s heart lightened. She replied softly, “Thank you, Mother. But once you give me a task, I’ll do my best, no matter what.”

Madam Qian had expected some resentment. Instead, that sincere answer made her even more uncomfortable. She muttered, “So whatever I say, you just do it? Am I really that hard to talk to?”

Yaoyao smiled, “You’ve always been kind.”

Madam Qian’s expression twisted slightly. She’d always assumed there was a wall between herself and Yaoyao—one a mother-in-law whose status was frowned upon by noble society, the other a well-bred aristocratic girl. Their early interactions had been stiff, especially during the journey north. But today, Yaoyao actually praised her. And when she spoke those words, her eyes were so sincere—it seemed she truly meant it from the heart.

Madam Qian suddenly remembered that Yaoyao once asked to borrow the guqin, saying she wanted to play for her. Aside from their rocky start, things between her and Xie Yaoyao might have been alright after all.

Only now did she realize—when Yaoyao called her “Mother,” it really didn’t sound so unpleasant.

After Yaoyao left, Madam Qian pondered for a long time. Then she called over Nanny Feng and said, “Go to the storeroom and find that old guqin—send it to the East Hall.”

Nanny Feng asked, “Is this for the Young Madam?”

Madam Qian replied, “I don’t play it. Better to give it to someone who can.”

…

News of Xiao Xicao’s death by drowning wasn’t something Li Shan ever intended to hide from Li Wang.

After finishing his tea, Li Shan overturned the cup on the table and said calmly, “At this point—my mother, my wife—none of them are going back to Luoyang.”

Li Wang remained silent for a long time. He didn’t erupt in fury. From the moment Li Shan destroyed the Buddhist temples until now, he’d already begun to suspect his son’s ambition. Deputy Lin had gone to Yanmen County to report the matter concerning Xiao Xicao, then ran to Fanyang—everything seemed to confirm it.

Now, with Li Shan killing members of the Xiao family, the dagger beneath the map was finally revealed. And when faced with it directly, Li Wang accepted the truth faster than expected. He might not be a trailblazer, but he refused to be a burden.

Still, Li Wang was deeply worried. He sighed, “Rising up now will only make Bingzhou the target of every attack!”

Li Shan replied, “Who said it’s only Bingzhou? All three northern provinces—none of them will escape this time.”

“…”

…

By evening, Li Shan left the government office and returned to the Li residence. As usual, he first visited Madam Qian in the East Hall. Her expression was hesitant, and Li Shan asked, “Is there something you wish to say, Mother?”

Madam Qian responded, “Did you know? Your wife was terrified—she nearly cried!”

Li Shan instantly thought of Yaoyao’s expression. Of course, he knew—other than when confronting him directly, she wasn’t particularly brave. Seeing Xiao Xicao and the others drown today would undoubtedly leave a deep mark on her.

Seeing Li Shan fall silent, Madam Qian assumed he disliked her meddling in their relationship, so she quickly added, “I’m not asking you to crack jokes to comfort her—just, maybe next time you kill someone, don’t let her watch?”

Li Shan picked up on her meaning, puzzled. “You seem… quite fond of her?”

How was she supposed to respond to such a blunt question? Madam Qian instantly denied it. “What? No, I’m just—just ordinary concern. If you’d scared Madam Guo today, I’d be concerned too. You’re also quite fond of Xie Yaoyao?”

Li Shan kept his tone cool: “…No.”

Madam Qian: “Oh.”

Such a conversation—truly filial and maternal.

…

In the West Hall, Yaoyao was surprised to receive the guqin named Mingzhu. She’d previously asked for it, and Madam Qian had seemed unwilling to oblige. Now, it had arrived via Nanny Feng.

No matter Madam Qian’s motive, the instrument itself was exquisite. Yaoyao accepted the Lou-crafted guqin with care and told Nanny Feng sincerely, “I’ll take good care of it.”

Nanny Feng smiled, “The Madam said—it’s meant to be played.”

Yaoyao was overjoyed. She wasn’t willing to let it sit unused. Nanny Feng, perceptive as ever, shared Madam Qian’s exact words without reservation.

After sending Nanny Feng off, Nanny Zheng poured tea and asked with a warm smile, “Shall we tune the strings?”

Yaoyao gently ran her fingers across the top of the guqin. Rather than begin right away, she took a deep breath and said to Nanny Zheng, “Please call Xin Zhu and Mu Lan here.”

She rarely looked so serious. Nanny Zheng quickly summoned them.

Soon, the three women learned that Li Shan had killed Xiao Xicao. They were alarmed—Xiao’s family wielded enormous influence, nearly half of Da Qi’s power bore the Xiao name. Now that Li Shan had killed them, the implications were obvious.

Xin Zhu panicked. “Then—what now? The senior madams are still in Luoyang…”

She was referring to Xie Shu and Madam Lu—Li Shan’s actions, if discovered by the Xiao clan, could easily endanger the entire Xie household.

Mu Lan asked, “Should we send a warning to help them prepare?”

Yaoyao replied, “No need.” She couldn’t risk revealing Li Shan’s plans. Instead, she added, “I will write a letter—but it will be to Madam Guo.”

There was still time before the situation truly unfolded. She wanted Madam Guo to fulfill her promise—while Luoyang hadn’t launched a full investigation yet—by sending Madam Lu and Xie Shu to Bingzhou for refuge. As for her father, Xie Zhaozhi…

Earlier, on the way back, Yaoyao had seemed distracted, her face pale. It wasn’t only the shock of witnessing death—it was the thoughts of her family, and the cruel realization that she could not possibly save them all. But she had never been someone to throw herself recklessly into a hopeless fight.

Not long after, she finished writing the letter to the county governor’s office. Her heart felt calm. She reached out to stroke her zither, casually plucking the strings. Clear notes burst forth from her fingertips; the haunting prelude rolled in. “The autumn wind drifts gently, the waves of Dongting scatter fallen leaves.” Sorrow rippled along with the fluttering foliage. If one listened closely, there was even a hint of melancholy.

Li Shan stood outside, listening for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, before stepping into the room. Yaoyao happened to finish the piece just as his foot crossed the threshold; her fingers lifted from the strings, and she rose. “Husband.”

Li Shan dragged over a folding stool, kicked off his shoes, and sat. “What were you playing just now?”

Yaoyao: “Lady of the Xiang River.”

Li Shan: “Qu Yuan’s piece?”

Yaoyao was surprised. “Yes.”

Li Shan: “You don’t honestly think a man of arms knows nothing of Qu Yuan and such, do you?”

Yaoyao did think so, but couldn’t say it out loud. Before she could reply, Li Shan added, “Go on, keep playing.”

Seeing the mood, the maids quietly took their leave. Yaoyao thought back to earlier when he had taken her hand. Her heart was full of unspoken emotions. She knelt again and resumed playing.

Soon after dinner, as darkness fell, the new bamboo mats were laid out and a few candles extinguished.

It was their first night sharing a bed in the West Hall. But after days of traveling together, Yaoyao had grown used to it. She crawled under the covers. Li Shan joined her shortly. He didn’t lie down immediately. One arm propped up his head as he watched her in silence.

Yaoyao fought the urge to retreat beneath the quilt. Bit by bit, she turned to glance at him.

Li Shan suddenly lowered his head. His tall figure cast a shadow that loomed toward her. Startled, Yaoyao shut her eyes tight, her heart pounding wildly—she could practically feel his breath, hot and close. Her cheeks flushed. But the expected kiss never came. After a long moment, she cautiously opened her eyes—only to see that Li Shan had already shifted back to his original position, eyeing her with a teasing smile. “Xie Yaoyao, aren’t you supposed to be fearless?”

Yaoyao: “I-I am?”

Her voice trembled despite herself. Truthfully, her attitude toward him—whether resisting or submitting—was always like this. Hesitant, yet somehow bristling.

Li Shan had sharp eyes. Even in the dim lighting under the bed curtains, he saw her biting her lip again and again. Those soft lips, tender and pink, now glistened slightly swollen. Pitiful.

His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, but he suppressed the restlessness in his chest. Turning his gaze elsewhere, he said, “Let me tell you a joke.”

Yaoyao’s eyes widened. “Hmm?”

Li Shan lay flat now. “It’s almost the Dragon Boat Festival, right? Back in the thirteenth year of Jingcheng, my grandfather and I were stationed near Qiantang in the south.”

It was the first time he’d mentioned his grandfather to her. Yaoyao quickly dropped her confusion and listened intently.

Those years, Jiangnan had suffered rebellions—seeds sown by the famine two decades earlier. No matter how hard people tried to farm, it was never enough to feed everyone. But for the entrenched aristocratic families, food was never scarce. During major festivals like Dragon Boat, Mid-Autumn, and Laba, the abundance was overwhelming.

Li Shan: “That year, the Xiao family made sticky rice dumplings stuffed with chestnuts and tossed them into the river to honor Qu Yuan.”

Something must have surfaced in his memory—his expression turned wry for a moment. “At the time, Grandfather and I had just enlisted. We get two coarse flatbreads per day. I had a big appetite, so Grandfather split his in half for me. Still starving.”

A teenage boy could eat endlessly. Thirteen-year-old Li Shan was always hungry. And not one to follow rules, he soon eyed the dumplings floating in the aristocrats’ boats.

“I watched for a gap in the patrol and swapped out the dumplings with my grandfather’s help. I ate four in one go. He had two. We even smuggled extras back for Xin Zhi, Du Ming, and Wang Huan.”

“Of course, I respected Qu Yuan deeply—so the discarded dumpling leaves and twine, I wrapped in willow fluff and secretly put back in Xiao’s boat.”

Yaoyao thought: this was very much Li Shan’s style.

Li Shan: “That day, the dragon boats raced. When the Xiao family tossed in the dumplings, every single one floated. When they retrieved them, all they found were bundles of willow fluff.”

Yaoyao’s heart jumped. “You… didn’t get caught, did you?”

Li Shan: “If I had, I wouldn’t be lying in a bed today. I’d be in a coffin.”

Yaoyao couldn’t help but chuckle.

Li Shan let out a low laugh. “Funny, huh?”

Yaoyao responded with a soft hum. But she didn’t really understand why he’d shared the story. Suddenly, a wild thought crossed her mind—was he trying to comfort her after that fright in the morning?

Just as doubt crept in, Li Shan’s voice dropped: “The Dragon Boat Festival’s coming again. I’m just taking the Xiao family to meet Qu Yuan. Tell him I’m sorry for those dumplings wrapped in willow fluff.”

Yaoyao: “…”

Seeing her quiet, Li Shan asked, “Are you still scared?”

Yaoyao: “…”

She wasn’t scared before, but now she was again.