As expected, it was impossible to hide anything from her.
Honest people have a kind of power. Facing her, Lu Huaihai strangely relaxed. His thin lips pressed together lightly as he said, “They want me to get married.”
Xie Miao’er was stunned for a moment.
She remembered that in history, he had never married, so where did the idea of marriage even come from?
Then she realized—his not marrying or having children was merely the result. It didn’t mean that Lu Huaihai had always intended to remain single.
After pondering for a moment, Xie Miao’er guessed why he had chosen to mention this matter to her.
Thus, she threw the question back at him: “Then… what do you think?”
Looking into her eyes, Lu Huaihai replied, “I never thought about it before.”
Before Xie Miao’er appeared, there hadn’t even been a single woman around him. The Lu family was upright and proper, unlike some so-called refined households where young men were always surrounded by pretty little maidservants.
Occasionally, when he saw friends of similar age indulging themselves in tender affections and unable to extricate themselves, Lu Huaihai only found it laughable.
For a man, this was the time to build achievements and make a name for himself. To be tied down by romantic feelings was, in Lu Huaihai’s view, utterly absurd.
Xie Miao’er noticed that he said “before,” so she asked, “You never thought about it before, but what about now?”
As the words left her mouth, Xie Miao’er suddenly felt as though her heart had been gripped tightly.
She began to wait nervously for his response.
Forming a good marriage and living harmoniously together were undoubtedly beautiful things, but Lu Huaihai knew the path he was about to take would be treacherous and dangerous. There wasn’t even a bright future ahead for him, so what was the point of adding embellishments to it?
When the news of his uncle’s death arrived, he had been only three years old. Yet he still remembered how Madam Chen, pregnant with a posthumous child, had been utterly heartbroken and overcome with grief.
Thinking back on the short journey he had traveled so far, Lu Huaihai realized that someone like him was destined to be an unsuitable match. Just like his parents, who, after years of separation and resentment, turned from lovers into adversaries.
There were so many things he wanted to accomplish that he couldn’t stop for anyone.
That night, when he returned to the residence and heard Xie Miao’er grumble tearfully that he had finally come back, he couldn’t comfort her. He could only avoid the topic altogether.
What he could not do was spend every day with someone, admiring the mountains, the waters, and the sunsets.
What he could do, at most, was to urge his horse forward at full speed and arrive a day sooner.
And that was the limit.
Lu Huaihai fell silent for a while before saying, “It’s hard to say.”
In truth, Xie Miao’er had already faintly guessed part of the reason.
He was not a cold-hearted person.
His feelings were hidden beneath the calm surface of the sea. He would never take the initiative to express them, and only when a storm struck could one glimpse a fragment of what lay beneath the waves.
Once, he had quarreled with his family to the point of breaking all ties, but ten years later, to ensure that his family wouldn’t be implicated because of him, he endured the excruciating pain of having his bones drilled through and held on for two whole months.
Xie Miao’er forcibly stopped herself from recalling that nightmare-like scene. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Shaoye, is it because you’re afraid of being tied to someone that you don’t want to marry?”
The word “afraid” wasn’t the best choice, but she couldn’t think of a better way to phrase it.
Hearing her seriously analyze him, Lu Huaihai’s lips curved slightly. Whether he was pleased or displeased, it was hard to say.
She really didn’t have any other thoughts. She wasn’t anxious or nervous upon hearing that he might get married, but her heart and mind were entirely preoccupied with him, even noticing things about him that he himself might not realize.
“You’re not wrong to say that,” Lu Huaihai calmly acknowledged her assessment of him.
Xie Miao’er frowned slightly and twisted the corner of her sleeve. She said, “The ties between people can be both a bad thing and a good thing.”
During the days he was away, she hadn’t simply waited idly, waiting for him to return, or waiting for the crossroad of choices to arrive in ten years so she could stop him.
Things were never that simple. She thought about many things and did many things.
She wanted him to have a better relationship with his family. She wanted him to have more ties in the mortal world.
It was just like her own past. When she had been gravely ill, the worsening illness left her unable to do much beyond staying alive. Even flipping through books had to be done by Xing You on her behalf.
She couldn’t wear delicate little leather boots to crunch through the snow, nor could she taste easily digestible foods like roasted sweet potatoes to know what they were like.
But she still survived, enduring until she reached the coming of age at 15.
Because she had ties.
She hated her weak and useless body but clung to her mother’s embrace.
She didn’t want to sadden her parents too much. So, when everyone believed she was nearing the lifespan predicted by the imperial physicians, she hardened her heart and drank that bowl of medicine.
Xie Miao’er wondered: if he had stronger emotional ties, would he make a different choice ten years from now?
She didn’t know, but she wanted to try.
The crux of the issue for their family was Lu Baozhu. She was like a thorn, lodged in their flesh, constantly reminding them of past events. As long as she got better, the icy and rigid atmosphere would always have a chance to thaw. Since Lu Baozhu liked spending time with her and didn’t lose her mind when they were together, Xie Miao’er decided to put in the effort to accompany her.
Except for losing limbs, most illnesses are tied to the heart. Never mind that Lu Baozhu had injured her head as a child—even a perfectly normal little girl, if locked away every day and kept from interacting with her peers, would likely lose her sanity.
With effort and patience, Lu Baozhu’s mental state gradually improved. Even the strained relationship between Madam Su and Lu Paizhang began to ease.
Seeing Lu Huaihai remain silent, his pupils reflecting a thoughtful glint, Xie Miao’er cautiously continued, “Moreover, as long as one is alive in this world, it’s impossible to escape the ties between people. For example, even when you were gone, the Third Madam always thought of you…”
Lu Huaihai understood what she meant but decided to tease her deliberately. He said, “Oh? So, you think I should get married and have children?”
Xie Miao’er waved her hands frantically and said, “No, no, I was just speaking nonsense.”
“Really?”
Xie Miao’er’s tongue almost tied itself into knots. Afraid of changing some irreversible outcome, she hurriedly said, “Yes, I was talking nonsense! Shaoye, your own thoughts are the most important.”
**Finally seeing her flustered, though the reason was unclear, Lu Huaihai’s mood improved significantly. He casually replied with a “Fine,” and then said, “Xie Miao’er, after saying so much, have you thought about yourself?”**
Xie Miao’er was puzzled. “What?”
Lu Huaihai glanced at her and said, “If I were to marry and have children, what would you do?”
What a fool—something even he could think of, she had remained completely oblivious to.
Xie Miao’er froze.
That’s right—she had almost forgotten her own position.
If he were to marry and have children, she was only his concubine. What would become of her then?
As her brows furrowed deeper and deeper, Lu Huaihai let out an unintentional sigh and spoke to her earnestly, “Don’t worry, I have no such plans.”
—
Privately, Lu Paizhang and Madam Su still secretly met with a few matchmakers, though they didn’t seem to have any intention of forcing Lu Huaihai.
For one, the easing of family tensions had made them more considerate. In the past, when the atmosphere was already at its worst, they felt like there was nothing more to lose. But now, with the rare chance to speak calmly and peacefully, no one wanted to ruin the fragile balance.
For another, Lu Huaihai had grown strong enough that even if they had the intention to pressure him, it was unlikely they could control him.
And so, the matter of his marriage was quietly set aside.
To Lu Huaihai, there were more important things to attend to at the moment.
The succession of military posts in Yongchao was not as simple as a son automatically taking over his father’s position. The procedures were quite complicated, starting with obtaining documentation from the local garrison.
Lu Paizhang had already submitted Lu Huaihai’s name. Thus, after only a few days of rest at home, even with the wounds on his back not yet fully healed, he had to begin training. Before officially taking up the position, he had to pass assessments. Only after demonstrating proficiency in archery and horseback riding would the garrison issue a certificate, which then had to be registered at the Office of Circuit Inspectors.
The training at the garrison was mostly basic. For someone who had already spent five months in the military, it posed no difficulty for Lu Huaihai. But for certain privileged young men merely coasting through life, it was torture. Every day on the training field, there were cries of misery.
Through their tears, these young scions quickly devised a survival strategy:
During daily evaluations, they made sure to follow right behind Lu Huaihai.
They were already barely keeping up, often borrowing strength when drawing bows or deliberately skipping moves during sparring. If they surrounded themselves with others who were also slacking, they might get away with it unnoticed.
But if they followed behind Lu Huaihai, with his fluid and flawless movements as a contrast, even flowers would look like dung in comparison—let alone their half-hearted efforts!
Thus, over the next few days, Lu Huaihai noticed that when it came time for evaluations, no one ever lined up ahead of him. Instead, there was always a scuffle behind him over who got to stand directly after him.
This behavior was beyond Lu Huaihai’s understanding.
He didn’t get it, but the instructor saw it all too often. Some of the same people showed up year after year, never getting their certificate of “proficiency in archery and horseback riding.”
The succession process was very strict. The garrison assessments were one thing, but at the Governor’s Office, where martial arts were directly tested, the failure rate was extremely high. Even the officials who nominated unqualified candidates faced punishment, leaving little room for manipulation.
Compared to the incompetent scions, the instructor’s gaze toward Lu Huaihai grew increasingly kind. “Come, you first,” he said.
Then, turning to the rowdy group at the back, he barked, “Stop the noise! What are you doing? You, second. You, third…”
Lu Huaihai was happy to take the lead. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could leave.
As expected, the day’s session concluded without incident. On his way home, Lu Huaihai casually bought a bag of buttery pine nut pastries.
He still didn’t bother using the main gate.
Climbing over walls had already become a habit.
But just as Lu Huaihai climbed onto the wall, before he could jump down, he noticed that Xie Miao’er’s courtyard was unusually lively.
He squinted slightly and looked down.
The people in the courtyard didn’t seem to have noticed this uninvited guest.
Xie Miao’er was sitting on a small stool with Lu Baozhu, her back to the wall. Meanwhile, his eldest cousin Lu Hong had somehow gotten her hands on a theatrical robe and was imitating the elegant gestures of an opera singer, waving her sleeves as she sang:
”The blossoms fall, the waters flow red, a thousand idle sorrows fill the heart—“
Lu Huaihai’s face remained utterly expressionless.
Wonderful. Out of his three younger sisters, two had been completely won over by Xie Miao’er.
What exactly had she been doing while he was away from the manor?