Chapter Fifteen
He hadn’t intended to meddle in others’ affairs, but the murmurs from the adjoining room lingered, growing only more intense. In the end, it sounded as though she was gritting her teeth, sinking deeper into the dream, surrendering all resistance.
Liang Yun, his thoughts disturbed, finally rose to rouse her from sleep.
Bathed in the pale moonlight streaming through the window, he saw tears at the corner of her eyes falling like beads from a broken string, slipping down to the dark strands by her temples.
His call, however, had no effect.
Within her dream, she seemed troubled, frightened, gasping for breath—her lips trembling with fear.
Suddenly, he heard her calling her younger brother’s name.
Liang Ji, Liang Ji—
.....
When Yingshi startled awake, she found a shadow standing silently by her bedside, so close she could almost touch it.
The skeleton from her dream seemed to have come alive, lunging at her with outstretched claws.
Liang Yun saw her eyes snap open, filled with panic; he too, moved by her distress, took a step back.
Yingshi, gathering her senses, recognized him and exhaled in relief.
She hurriedly propped herself up, smoothing the wrinkled nightgown over her knees, but in her haste, exposed her bare feet.
Her feet were small, the arch pale, the toes pink—like a fresh lotus root plucked in summer. Yet her ankles were marked by conspicuous swelling and redness.
Just awakened, Yingshi was unaware of the impropriety of their midnight encounter, alone and vulnerable.
Liang Yun realized first, frowning as he retreated silently.
Even awake, the emotions from Yingshi’s dream clung to her. She’d cried fiercely and could not quickly stifle her sobs; she kept sniffling, her nose blocked, her voice soft and sticky—like the sweet rice cake eaten at Lantern Festival, so sticky it threatens to pull out one’s teeth.
“Did I talk in my sleep just now and wake you, elder brother?”
Liang Yun’s gaze dropped to his boots. “No.”
He’d always been a light sleeper, a habit forged over years. She was not to blame.
“Are you feeling unwell?” Liang Yun asked.
Yingshi, hearing his cool, distant voice, shook her head in confusion.
She had no wish to discuss her nightmares—they were secrets she intended to bury forever.
“It was just a nightmare—” she began, only for Liang Yun to interject, “Is your foot alright?”
Yingshi paused, then looked down at her leg—her ankle was swollen by an entire circle!
In the uncertain darkness, everything seemed more frightening.
A delayed realization struck her. “Elder brother, my foot seems… not quite well…”
Liang Yun didn’t wait for her to finish; he turned and went out.
Dried twigs were thrown on the embers, and soon a faint glow bloomed in the night.
In the silent room, Liang Yun returned, bearing a light.
His face was frosted, his brow deep-set and severe in the flickering firelight.
His shadow loomed like a beast lurking in the darkness, inching closer, until it enveloped the girl’s delicate form.
The weak glow invisibly drew them together, merging their presence.
As he approached, Yingshi felt a surge of uncontrollable fear; she nearly held her breath, leaning back, trying to escape that shadow, bit by bit.
Page 1/3
“I know a little medicine. If you feel uncomfortable, I can blindfold myself.”
Though frightened, Yingshi did not hesitate and quickly replied, “It’s alright. In urgent times, expediency matters—please go ahead and look.”
Expediency—those were his words to her, now deftly adopted.
Between a limp and a tarnished reputation, Yingshi knew which to choose. Besides, tonight it was only the two of them; if neither spoke, no one would ever know.
She spoke, then rolled up her skirt until her entire foot was exposed.
Beneath the fabric was a calf pale as porcelain, never touched by sunlight, shimmering softly in the dim firelight.
Her leg was slender, like a jade shoot, but the swelling at her ankle stood out sharply.
Liang Yun’s brows knitted as he focused intently on her injured ankle.
Though she knew he was tending to her, his gaze made Yingshi embarrassed.
She curled her toes bashfully, but Liang Yun had already covered her ankle with an embroidered handkerchief, his cool palm pressing down.
His fingers traced the tendons at both sides of her ankle, moving downward beneath the handkerchief. Though his touch seemed gentle, only Yingshi knew how strong his grip was.
His hand clamped her flesh like iron pincers, pain bringing tears to her eyes.
Yingshi bit her lip so hard it nearly bled, unable to hold back a soft gasp of pain.
“Hiss…” she inhaled sharply, pitifully trying to pull her ankle back.
Liang Yun held tight, not letting her escape.
Her voice quivered, “Softer, it hurts…”
He did not loosen his grip; instead, he pressed on, half coaxing, half reassuring, “When we leave the mountain tomorrow, I’ll find a physician. Your injury must have been aggravated by exposure to cold water tonight—it’s not serious.”
Yingshi remembered his words from earlier: that they’d leave in a day.
But now? They hadn’t even reached the foot of the mountain—
Her ankle was so swollen, every movement hurt fiercely. Was he merely comforting her with empty words?
The nightmare had drained her. Unable to calm herself, she couldn’t help but imagine the worst.
Was Liang Yun deceiving her? If not treated promptly, would her foot be crippled forever?
She’d finally regained her health, but before she could do anything, she was summoned for mourning, then faced all these misfortunes—unprepared for any of it!
Perhaps, this time, she was worse off than her previous life.
At least then, her legs were sound!
Now, when Liang Ji returned with a beloved wife and child, she’d be powerless against him, pitied by all as a cripple…
The more she thought, the more pain and fear grew; the suppressed emotions, compounded by nightmares, finally burst forth.
In the dim candlelight, a faint glow fell.
Liang Yun looked up and saw tears shimmering in her eyes, barely stopped, now threatening to spill again.
In the darkness, he could almost smell the salt of her tears.
Liang Yun was momentarily stunned, thinking he’d simply hurt her, and released his hold.
“The bruise will dissipate soon. Try if it hurts less now?”
Yingshi only hung her head and wept silently, ignoring him.
Liang Yun had never seen anyone behave this way—ignoring questions, only crying.
A noble-born lady, now a wife—should she not be more composed and gracious, instead of behaving like a child, so easily moved to tears and silence?
He was her brother-in-law, the elder—her refusal to answer was rude indeed.
Liang Yun felt a rare flicker of irritation. But soon, he realized why—
Page 2/3
Just moments ago, she’d been murmuring her brother’s name in her sleep…
Perhaps she’d dreamt of Shungong, and now, grief weighed heavily on her?
So young, widowed—her mood swings were only natural. How could he blame her?
As expected, amid silence, Liang Yun saw the girl lift her head, her wet gaze meeting his.
She sniffled, the firelight reflected in her dark eyes. “Elder brother, do you know how much I loved Liang Ji?”
As she raised her chin, her hair cascaded like a waterfall over pale cheeks and down her snowy neck, thick lashes glittering with tears, trembling with every blink.
“I believed I was honoring my vows, marrying the one I loved—even if he was but bones. Even if people mocked me behind my back, I didn’t care.”
At least she was someone who dared to face the consequences.
At least, in youth, Liang Ji had treated her so well, so well.
Liang’s father and Yingshi’s father had been the closest of friends; in his lifetime, Liang’s father had cared for Yingshi, and the Liang family had honored a marriage promise others saw as mismatched.
Yingshi thought she should be true to her conscience, refusing to remarry after Liang Ji’s death.
“He swore to me before leaving, promised to marry only me, told me to wait for him—when he returned victorious, he’d marry me with ten miles of red bridal procession. What is it now? What is it? Sometimes at night, I wish I were dead, that death would bring peace, save me from shame and sorrow…”
Across two lifetimes, she could not understand—how had such sweetness at first turned so abruptly to bitterness?
Perhaps heaven could not bear to see her happy.
Liang Yun wanted to comfort her, to urge her not to dwell in the past, but he lacked the words, only standing there, cold and awkward.
“My condolences, sister-in-law.” After much thought, that was all he could manage.
“Shungong is gone. You shouldn’t linger in grief. In the future, supporting the third branch alongside mother is what matters.”
The sorrowful mood was nearly broken, Yingshi almost ready to cry again, to pour out all her grievances, and let Liang Yun see how much his family owed her, so he might compensate her on his brother’s behalf.
But who knew, the emotions she’d carefully built were scattered by Liang Yun’s tone-deaf words.
Just listen—“In the future, supporting the third branch alongside mother is what matters”?
Her sobs caught in her throat, she couldn’t cry anymore.
“How am I to support the third branch? Mother doesn’t even like me…” she bit her lip, obstinately retorting.
Liang Yun missed the undertone, responding as if to a junior, “If you treat mother sincerely, in time she will treat you sincerely as well.”
In the darkness, Yingshi drew a deep breath.
It was said Liang Yun had suffered much under Wei’s hand as a child.
Yet he could still speak of forgiving past grievances? Truly, he was magnanimous.
But she was not him, not a man—she did not possess such breadth of heart!
Perhaps sensing her growing irritation, Liang Yun added, “Grandmother is fair. If you are wronged, you can turn to her.”
Yingshi was silent, then asked, “Grandmother’s health is poor. I can’t trouble her daily with such matters, can I?”
Liang Yun fell silent again.
Every exchange with Yingshi seemed to require long thought.
“Rest assured. Shungong is gone—I will care for you in his stead.”
In the darkness, Liang Yun’s voice was soft, cool, yet carried the weight of a thousand pounds.
“You married Shungong; in my heart, you are like… a sister.”
Page 3/3