Before long, the year-end arrived. The Lin Family had all preparations in order—door gods replaced, couplets renewed, peachwood talismans freshly painted, and crimson lanterns hung high, creating a festive New Year atmosphere. Though the shadow of imperial strife lingered in the capital, the emperor seemed intent on soothing public sentiment by making this year’s celebrations more lavish than usual. Civil and military officials eagerly promoted an image of national peace and prosperity, with lanterns and decorations everywhere, filling the city with bustling joy. Lin Zhaoxiang attended the Hundred Elders Banquet at the palace and returned with a eunuch proclaiming an imperial decree: for his merits, Lin Jinlou was promoted to the position of military commander. Congratulations poured in incessantly, but the Lin Family humbly attributed it to the emperor’s boundless grace, holding ancestral rites without overt celebration. Still, household members couldn’t hide their delight, and even the maids stood taller than before. By then, Lin Jinlou could already move about, his arrow wound deep but healing faster than most thanks to his youth, robust constitution, and the family’s meticulous care with priceless medicines.
After the Lantern Festival, Lin Jinlou’s complexion improved, his cheeks filling out gradually. He could sit up on his own and walk short distances slowly. Xianglan attended to him devotedly, varying dishes and soups from the kitchen daily, sometimes cooking herself. She rose twice each night to change his dressings and took dictation for his official duties. Prolonged illness often breeds irritability, especially for someone as hot-tempered as Lin Jinlou. Maids fled at the sight of his scowling face, but Xianglan would bring Buddhist scriptures to read to him. At first, he found it novel and listened half-heartedly, but as she persisted, he protested, "Listening to this makes me drowsy. Might as well hire a storyteller for some entertainment."
Xianglan sighed inwardly, thinking her efforts were wasted on deaf ears—Lin Jinlou, steeped in greed, anger, and arrogance, sorely needed the scriptures to temper his harshness.
Seeing her despondent expression as she gathered the scriptures to leave, Lin Jinlou quickly caught her wrist. "Alright, alright, go on then. It’s fine."
"You actually like it?" Xianglan asked, puzzled.
"Mmm, passable—" Lin Jinlou merely gazed at her soft, delicate profile. Truthfully, he had little interest in the texts, but having Xianglan sit beside him, patiently reciting each word and praying for his health, filled his heart with warmth and contentment, lifting the corners of his mouth.
Just then, a maid announced Lin Jinting’s arrival. Upon inquiry, Lin Jinlou learned that Ting sought advice on social dealings. Recently, the entire Lin Family’s affairs had fallen on Ting’s shoulders, leaving him thinner but more spirited and composed. After discussing capital appointments and shifts, Ting remarked, "This fraternal conflict has brought mixed fortunes—some promoted, others ruined. Did you know? Duke Xian hanged himself in prison."
In the adjacent gauze-curtained partition, Xianglan, writing a letter home, paused her brush.
"I heard," Lin Jinlou set his tea bowl on the plum-blossom side table. "As the Second Prince’s pawn, the emperor made an example of him—imprisoned and his estate confiscated. These days, loyalty is thin as gauze; few would lend a hand. Learning he’d been sentenced to execution, Duke Xian used his belt to hang himself in his cell that very night—at least he kept his body whole.""Ah, fortunately Yifei was clever and requested an official transfer out of the capital early on. Although it was held up by the Ministry of Personnel for some time, we finally received news today that he'll depart tomorrow."
Lin Jinlou glanced sideways through the gauze screen and saw Xianglan holding a brush in a daze behind the intricately carved wooden partition. He frowned and said to Lin Jinting with a dark expression, "Is there anything else? If not, get lost. I'm tired and need to rest."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Just yesterday I was telling Aunt how your temper had improved, and now you're turning hostile again... Fine, fine, I won't say more. I'm leaving, wouldn't want to disturb Your Excellency."
After Lin Jinting left, the room fell quiet. Xianglan emerged and saw Lin Jinlou leaning against the bedpost, staring blankly ahead. He was slowly winding the tassels hanging from the bed curtains around his hand - one loop, then another, until his hand turned pale and his fingers swelled red, then began turning purple.
Xianglan approached and said softly, "Don't twist them so tight. It's not good for your circulation."
Lin Jinlou kept his head down without speaking.
Xianglan took his hand and began unwinding the tassels loop by loop. Lin Jinlou looked up at her and slowly grasped her hand. Just as he was about to speak, Xiao Juan entered and said, "Several young masters from the Master's clan are waiting to visit. Should they be admitted?"
Lin Jinlou frowned and said, "I've only had a few days of peace, and now another group comes right after the last."
Xianglan signaled to Xiao Juan with her eyes and said, "Ask Shuran and Xu Fu to see them off." Xiao Juan withdrew. Just then, Ling Su and others entered carrying basins. Xianglan helped Lin Jinlou change clothes, taking a foreign towel to wash his face and wipe his body. As she worked, she said, "It's the New Year season. It's only natural for people to visit. If you don't want to receive them, let Third Master handle the social duties. The younger generation can be dismissed, but there are elders too."
Sitting on the bed, Lin Jinlou suddenly grasped Xianglan's hand and asked, "With the New Year here, do you miss your parents?"
Xianglan paused, withdrew her hand and continued wiping his arms. Looking down, she said, "I do - I originally planned to send some needlework home with someone, but I haven't finished it yet—"
Lin Jinlou felt emotional turmoil as he watched Xianglan's lowered face, remaining silent for a long moment. Then he took her hand again, playing with her fingers as he said, "If we were in Jinling, I would have had them brought to the residence. There's no helping it now, but when we return, I'll go with you to visit them."
Xianglan lifted her eyes to steal a glance at Lin Jinlou, then lowered her gaze again, focusing on the scars on his shoulders. The knife wound on Lin Jinlou's shoulder had mostly healed, leaving only flesh-colored scars. He had over twenty scars of various sizes on his body. Xianglan felt sudden emotion and some indescribable sadness. Others might envy Lin Jinlou for achieving success at a young age and commanding heavy troops, but they didn't know that all his glory had been earned at the risk of his life.
Lin Jinlou also felt somewhat melancholy. Noticing the faint shadows under Xianglan's eyes, he said quietly, "You haven't been sleeping well these past few days, have you? My injury is much better - you don't need to get up at night to change the dressings anymore. Is the cook unsatisfactory?"
"No, he's quite good.""What's so good about it? Your chin has grown so thin and sharp, your oval face is almost turning into a melon seed face." As he spoke, he raised his hand and gently touched Xianglan's cheek. "I'll make sure you get proper nourishment later. You look better with a bit more weight on you." After a long pause, he added in a low voice, "You've suffered following me these days."
Xianglan was taken aback, instinctively leaning back to avoid his hand. Lin Jinlou had always been a demon king—domineering, overbearing, and accustomed to ordering people about. Even when he was slightly more pleasant with her, he would still turn hostile if a few words didn't suit him. He had never spoken so softly or clung to her like this, sending people to look for her if she was out of sight for even a moment. When he threw tantrums in bed and she couldn't help but scold him, he actually listened obediently. She was used to dealing with the former Lin Bawang, but this version of Lin Jinlou left her at a loss. She looked up and met his gaze directly. His eyes were long and bright—Xianglan had always found them too sharp—but today they seemed veiled in a soft haze, as if swirling with turbulent emotions, rendering her momentarily speechless.
Lin Jinlou gazed into Xianglan's eyes, so clear they resembled autumn water. He felt a turmoil in his chest, unsettling and overwhelming, as if bewitched. He reached out, cupping Xianglan's face with both hands, leaning in slowly, tilting his head to brush against her lips—warm as silk, sweet as honey. Having spent his life drifting through romantic encounters and engaging in countless performances, he had never kissed anyone with such reverence. A tremor ran through his heart, spreading to every limb, and he even felt absurdly humble. He gently sucked, then deepened the kiss, his trembling fingers cradling the back of her head, pulling her closer.
Xianglan, pulled forward, stumbled against his chest. Lin Jinlou let out a muffled grunt, and Xianglan, as if waking from a dream, flustered, pushed him away and stood up, retreating two steps. Her cheeks flushed, breath uneven, she backed all the way to the washstand before stammering, "The water's cold. I'll go change it." She turned, picked up the basin, and left.
Lin Jinlou sat in stunned silence for a long while.
A moment later, Xianglan returned with a fresh basin, her expression now composed. She silently wiped Lin Jinlou down and applied new ointment. Lin Jinlou pressed his lips together, saying nothing, clutching two official documents in his hand. He stared at one page for a long time, unsure if he had taken anything in, and didn't speak a word to Xianglan even when taking his medicine. Xianglan knew he was sulking. Glancing at the pile of documents on the desk—which she was supposed to draft for him that night—she flipped through them and found nothing urgent. She thought it might be best to indulge his temper; approaching him now while he was in a foul mood would only invite trouble. She looked at Lin Jinlou again: he was still bent over a stack of letters, his face hidden in the shadow of the candlelight, his lips tightly pressed, almost like a child.
She sighed inwardly, quietly stepped forward, placed a cup of hot tea on the small table, and took the papers from Lin Jinlou's hand. "Night has fallen. Let's rest early tonight." She expected him to glare at her, but to her surprise, he didn't even glance her way. He simply rinsed his mouth and lay down.Xianglan blew out the lamp and lay down as well. They had retired early today, and the sporadic sound of firecrackers drifted in from outside, along with faint, indistinct noises. Only then did Xianglan remember that tonight was the sixteenth—the night when families went out for the "Hundred Charms" stroll—no wonder it was so lively outside. The maids of Chun Tang Hall had not yet gone to bed; occasionally, footsteps and soft laughter could be heard from outside. Unable to sleep, Xianglan tossed and turned a couple of times when suddenly Lin Jinlou turned over and embraced her.
Xianglan couldn't help but whisper, "Your wound—"
Lin Jinlou replied, "It's not pressed."
Xianglan let out an "Oh," unsure of what else to say, and closed her eyes. After a moment, she suddenly heard Lin Jinlou ask, "Xianglan, do you still resent me?"
Xianglan opened her eyes. The bed was dim and shadowy, but Lin Jinlou's eyes shone brightly as he gazed at her.
Xianglan froze, her throat suddenly feeling dry. "Master, I—"
"It's nothing, I was just asking," Lin Jinlou interrupted her abruptly, burying his head in her silky hair and murmuring, "Just a casual question—"
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It's a bit late, my apologies.
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