Absurdity

Madam Wei caught a glimpse of Liang Yun’s gaze falling outside the window. His cold, thin lips and the taut, slender line of his jaw made him look as if he were admiring the fresh flowers picked by the maids that morning, or perhaps watching the two chattering thrushes perched on the moonlit beam.

Liang Yun’s calm gaze nevertheless made Madam Wei slightly tense.

She had summoned Ruan to wait in the courtyard under the sun, clearly intending to wear her down.

But with Liang Yun present, Madam Wei had to maintain her dignity, unable to be too harsh.

Madam Wei slowly twisted her sandalwood beads between her fingers and whispered into the maid’s ear, "Don’t leave her standing outside. Send her to the tea room to brew some tea."

Having been the mistress of the Liang household for many years, as well as a daughter-in-law, she was adept at directing the younger women, skilled in finding ways to make others suffer in silence.

The maid agreed and promptly walked toward the courtyard.

...

Yingshi was relieved when she was sent to the tea room to brew tea.

She lit the stove, warmed the tea cups, and carefully crushed the tea leaves, tossing them into the boiling water.

Soon, the tea stove began to bubble.

As Liang Yun and Madam Wei conversed, the crisp sound of a crystal bead curtain swaying came to his ears.

He slowly turned his head and saw the girl’s delicate figure stepping out of the tea room.

Her pale, gentle hands held the tea tray, bearing a white-lidded bowl from the official kiln. With graceful steps, she walked across the soft carpet.

Every step fell upon the shimmering light cast by the flowered window, each one as graceful as a lotus.

The Liang residence’s luxury and elegance were fully displayed in Madam Wei’s garden.

The main room had its doors and windows half-open; soft silk drapes, emerald bead curtains, and plush carpets with auspicious patterns covered the floor. In the center sat a basin of ice, incense smoke curling gently upward, blending with the cool mist rising from the ice chest.

Even in the sweltering summer heat outside, Madam Wei wore layers upon layers, holding a round fan as she sat upright in the hall.

Though she held a silk fan, she never moved to fan herself; it was always the maids beside her who gently waved feather fans, sending cool breezes Madam Wei’s way.

Yingshi entered, feeling the rush of cool air, a stark contrast to the steaming heat she had just endured.

The chill brushed her nose, and she fought the urge to sneeze.

Madam Wei pointed to Liang Yun and said to Yingshi, "Your elder brother has just returned from the palace. Serve him tea first."

Yingshi understood and had the maid take the tray. She herself lifted a cup, her slender waist bending gracefully before him.

Her head bowed slightly, eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings, revealing the pale jade of her neck beneath her collar.

Steam rose from the freshly brewed tea, shrouding her finely drawn brows and full lips.

"Brother, please have some tea."

Her voice was soft, like the gentlest spring breeze.

A ray of sunlight fell upon her hand, making it appear even more radiant than the porcelain she held.

Liang Yun took the cup.

Yingshi was as meek as a jade sculpture before Madam Wei.

With lotus steps, she presented another cup to Madam Wei.

Liang Yun traced the rim of his cup, his gaze frosty.

It was obvious to everyone that Madam Wei disliked her.

Even though Yingshi was so humble and obedient, Madam Wei deliberately kept her cold.

In years past, Liang Yun barely spoke a word to her all year; but now, he lingered.

Madam Wei, afraid of others watching and laughing at the tension between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, reluctantly reached out to take the cup.

Unexpectedly, the cup was hot, and Madam Wei’s brows furrowed. She coldly returned the tea to Yingshi’s tray.

A sharp clatter of porcelain suddenly sounded in the quiet inner room. The tea bowl tipped, spilling scalding liquid.

Yingshi’s sleeve shrank back, her brows knitting in distress.

Had Liang Yun not been present, Madam Wei would surely have lashed out with biting sarcasm.

Madam Wei took several deep breaths, her eyes cold as she glanced at Yingshi. "You were told to brew tea, yet it’s so hot."

Yingshi hurriedly replied, "It’s my fault. I’ll make another cup..."

"Enough, enough. I dare not trouble you further. Go back and copy your scriptures!"

Yingshi tucked her hand into her sleeve, bowed, and left.

Her silhouette was like a cloud at the horizon, bathed in radiant light, which revealed a dark ring of wetness on her layered sleeves.

Liang Yun’s fingers suddenly clenched.

So tightly, his knuckles whitened.

...

Bathed in the glowing hues of dusk, Yingshi dismissed the unwilling Xiangyao and made her way alone to the Liang family’s Buddha hall.

The hall, built in the front courtyard, was grand and ancient, supported by thick golden nanmu pillars, each wide enough to encircle with both arms and towering several stories high.

The incense burner stood tall, its smoke curling all twelve hours of the day.

The mingled scents of sandalwood and incense were pleasant, seeming to have a magical power to wash away worldly worries.

Yingshi breathed in the calming aroma, knelt and settled herself, arranging brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

She stood to lay out the half-finished rebirth scripture she had copied the previous night, uncertain how long she had been at this task.

Outside, the sunlight slowly faded, and the candles beside her seemed dim.

Yingshi set down her brush, rubbed her tired eyes, and, listening to the distant chirping of insects beyond the Buddha hall, grew sleepy.

She rested her chin in one hand, closed her eyes for a brief nap.

But soon, she heard footsteps behind her.

In the darkness, every sound seemed amplified.

Yingshi opened her eyes, turned to look, and saw a tall, slender figure standing at the open doorway of the hall.

He stepped in from the deep corridor, the dim lamplight casting his eyes in a sea of mist.

Yingshi, surprised, sat up straighter, her fatigue vanishing instantly.

"Why have you come, brother?"

Liang Yun’s gaze settled on her hand.

When copying scriptures, she rolled her sleeves to the elbow to avoid ink stains, leaving her arm exposed—slender and pale.

But on the back of her hand was a bright red burn, marring its beauty.

Her fingers were delicate, like jade shoots; any mark stood out starkly, let alone the scalding tea.

Yingshi followed his gaze, startled, and quickly tried to slip her burned hand back into her sleeve.

Even now, she still tried to hide her injury. To Liang Yun, this childish gesture seemed both naïve and pitiable.

"I passed by and saw candlelight." Liang Yun’s tone was flat, as if explaining.

He handed her a bottle of medicine.

"Burns shouldn’t be delayed; apply the ointment early," he said.

Yingshi, belatedly embarrassed, reached for it, but Liang Yun was quicker, opening the bottle and placing it on the desk before her.

The ointment was snowy and dense—pearl cream?

He, a man, carried pearl cream with him?

Yingshi’s eyes widened in surprise, unsure what to say.

Liang Yun’s gaze fell upon the neat script she had copied—delicate, rounded, upright, and orderly. Each stroke held a subtle sharpness.

It was much like her character...

Soft on the surface, but stubborn beneath, with a touch of temper.

Liang Yun saw through her; in the two days and nights they had spent together, he had already discerned her temperament.

She was rather peculiar.

She seemed gentle, but her moods shifted, her mind heavy with thoughts.

Her heart weighed down, yet her eyes could not hide anything; she was incapable of deceit.

She often sighed softly without realizing it.

This was—the rebirth scripture she copied for her younger brother.

Every word and line... spoke of her deep affection for Liang Ji...

For reasons unknown, Liang Yun suddenly felt gloomy. Looking at her handwriting, his chest grew heavy.

Some things are strange: the two of them should have been parallel lines, never to intersect.

If not for Liang Ji, they would never have crossed paths.

But now things were different.

Everything was gradually changing.

For a moment, Liang Yun found himself wondering—

What was it about his brother that made her love him so deeply, remember him so constantly...

"Leave it for now; you can copy more in a few days," he heard his own deep voice say.

Yingshi exclaimed softly, then shook her head, "I can’t..."

She had been exhausted these days, serving Madam Wei by day and copying scriptures by night.

Just a few days, and she was already thinner.

Yingshi perhaps hadn’t even noticed herself—when she spoke to Liang Yun, her voice was gentle, her eyes always misty.

Liang Yun watched her for a while, hinting, "It’s late. Go rest. We’ll discuss this tomorrow."

"No," Yingshi stubbornly shook her head, not understanding the implication in his words.

"If Mother doesn’t see it tomorrow, she’ll be angry..." Her brows furrowed, her delicate nose wrinkling, her lively face shifting before Liang Yun’s eyes.

The eldest brother was like a father; when Liang Ji or Liang Zhi slacked off on their studies as children and sought his help, Liang Yun was always cold and strict, never showing mercy.

But with Yingshi, his hints became direct statements—for the first time in his life, he spoke words that were improper, absurd, almost unspeakable. Words that deceived their elders.

"I’ll finish copying it tonight and bring it to you in the morning."

Yingshi was stunned, her long lashes lifting slowly, her gaze reflecting his face, cold as frost.