Chapter 17: The Illusion Of Harmony

He had not expected that she would be so intimate with him even in the presence of others.

True, they stood within the inner chambers of their own courtyard, yet the space was not empty.

Several young maids and attendants remained nearby, going about their duties.

Neither of them had yet bathed or cleansed themselves of the day’s dust.

Yet she had drawn close, pressed her lips to his cheek, and whispered her words against his ear.

The warm, soft fragrance of her breath grazed the shell of his ear, and for no reason he could name, heat kindled beneath his skin.

Yan Chiyun regarded her for a long moment.

Then he reached out and drew her waist toward him, narrowing the space between them until she was held within the circle of his arm.

He looked at her.

Pu Jinyu met his gaze, her eyes creased with a quiet smile.

The man before her was imposing, his presence formidable and vast.

Yet she did not flinch from him, did not lower her gaze.

She held his eyes and drew him in, inexorably.

Confronted with such a direct, unblinking stare, the warmth within Yan Chiyun’s chest deepened, spread.

He wanted to kiss her.

But… this was not a matter to be rushed.

As though she had discerned his very thoughts, Pu Jinyu was the first to withdraw from his embrace.

“The bath has been prepared.

Husband may bathe first, if he wishes.”

He looked at her and smiled, faintly.

“Mm.”

“…”

***

That night, it was Yan Chiyun who governed the rising tide of their passion.

He had finished bathing and readied himself before she did.

The moment she emerged, he caught her by the wrist and drew her down with him into the swath of the bed curtains.

In the dim, hazy darkness, Pu Jinyu received the unbroken cascade of the man’s kisses.

They began upon her lips—pressing, parting, deepening.

His tongue sought hers and would not release it, tangling and twining until she was breathless.

Only then did his mouth wander elsewhere.

Pu Jinyu looped both wrists about the man’s neck.

Half her face was buried against his shoulder.

Only her beautiful eyes remained visible, gazing out from the shelter of his embrace.

Her unbound hair swayed with the rhythm of their movements.

Strands of it drifted across her eyes, caught upon the bridge of her nose.

She was like a flowering crab in a tempest, with no branch to cling to.

Wave after wave she endured—the violent rain, the surging sea—an endless, relentless onslaught.

Her lips, swollen from his kisses, parted slightly.

Breath escaped her in soft, hurried gasps.

One after another, delicate and uneven.

Yan Chiyun shifted her in his arms, lifting her slightly so that her small face emerged fully from its hiding place against his skin.

Her slender white wrists encircled his neck completely now, and she held him close.

She permitted him to do with her as he wished.

She had seduced him; now she indulged him.

Her expression suggested complete surrender, her gaze languid and unfocused, her eyes shimmering with moisture.

Every part of her was yielding, compliant, responsive.

Yet one who looked closely might have glimpsed the hollow emptiness that dwelt in the depths of her gaze.

But within the bed curtains, the light was too dim, the shadows too deep.

Yan Chiyun did not perceive her disquiet.

Moreover, she answered his every kiss.

Her hands reached for him, held him.

Before they began, she had smiled at him and called him husband.

She had offered not the slightest resistance.

He believed this was a union of mutual joy, a confluence of body and spirit both fully engaged and fully satisfied.

His heart, stirred to longing, had found its fulfillment.

Surely she felt the same.

They were husband and wife, their hearts turned toward one another.

They were striving to conceive a child, to extend the thread of their shared bloodline.

In time, there would be offspring.

She would nurture their children and support their household, and thus they would pass together into the twilight of their years.

They had been intimate so frequently of late.

Perhaps her body had already conceived.

At this thought, he consciously softened his movements, reining in his earlier ferocity.

But her legs rose to encircle his waist.

The delicate arch of her foot traced a slow line along his lower back, and a shiver of pleasure rippled through him.

She understood, too well, how to ensnare him.

He did not recoil from any of her artful, inventive caresses.

On the contrary, he welcomed them.

He cherished them.

…

When at last it ended, Pu Jinyu was too weary to open her eyes.

She lay prone upon the soft bedding, her lashes damp and heavy.

Yan Chiyun held her from behind, his body curved to the shape of hers.

They breathed together, their exhalations mingling and winding about each other.

Their hair, too, had tangled, dark strands intertwined upon the pillow.

For a long while, Pu Jinyu did not speak.

Yan Chiyun carried her to the bath.

With that troublesome maid Jing Chun gone, no one dared obstruct him when he bore his wife to the bathing chamber.

No one competed with him for the privilege of attending her.

The young woman in his arms was utterly compliant, offering not the faintest resistance.

He lowered her into the wooden tub and reached for the cloth.

She plucked it from his hand.

Her face, upturned toward him, was smeared and spoiled—rouge and powder dissolved by perspiration and the fervor of their lovemaking.

“I will manage myself.”

He had been thinking, just then, that if he bathed her, if he wiped the cosmetics from her face, he would at last behold her true countenance.

A rare and unaccustomed tension had flickered through him.

But she refused him.

After all their countless intimacies, after all the times he had held her and she had held him, still she denied him this.

She would not let him see her without her paints and powders.

Why?

Pu Jinyu held the cloth in her hand and looked at the man’s face.

She did not miss the arrested stillness of his gesture, nor the subtle shift in his expression.

He gazed at her in silence.

He was waiting for her to soothe him, to offer some explanation.

Indeed, Yan Chiyun maintained his pose, the cloth still extended toward her.

He waited.

He wished to hear her explain why she would not show him her unadorned face.

Was the countenance beneath her cosmetics truly so unsightly?

Did she deem him so shallow a man, so swayed by mere appearance, that her perceived lack of beauty would drive him to distance himself from her?

The explanation did not come.

Her lips parted, but she offered him only two words.

“Will you?”

She spoke as though entreating him.

What, then, could he say?

Yan Chiyun suppressed the disappointment that settled in his chest.

He schooled his features into composure.

“Mm.

Very well.”

He said nothing more.

He turned and walked out, proceeding to the other bathing chamber.

Pu Jinyu watched his departing figure.

Her expression cooled, degree by degree, until it was cold as ash.

When he was gone, she dipped the cloth in water and slowly, meticulously, wiped away the thick layer of paint and powder from her face.

Layer by layer, the artifice dissolved.

Beneath emerged features of exquisite delicacy—fair skin, soft contours, a beauty so arresting it seized the breath and lingered long in the memory.

But this soft, enchanting countenance was frozen, remote.

Even so, it drew the eye and held it captive.

***

Yan Chiyun, nearing the end of his own bath, still could not comprehend why Madam Pu refused to let him see her natural face.

This was not, in truth, a matter of comprehension.

He understood perfectly well.

Everyone was entitled to their own secrets.

Even between husband and wife, there must be boundaries, spaces held apart.

In this regard, Madam Pu conducted herself admirably.

She never pressed him on matters that caused him difficulty, never pried into his official affairs.

No—the difficulty lay elsewhere.

It was the sensation of being excluded that he found so hard to bear.

And this sensation, once it took root, resisted all his efforts to uproot it.

These past days, he had become aware of his own heart stirring, drawing him inexorably toward her.

Naturally, he wished for his regard to be reciprocated.

He wished for her to draw near to him as he drew near to her.

Yet she always held something back.

The injury at the Pu household—she had concealed it, evaded his inquiries.

And now, this persistent veiling of her face.

And yet—it was not as though she kept her distance from him.

In the bedchamber, she was ardent, passionate, clinging to him without cease.

But beyond that chamber… what intimacy remained?

There was some, certainly.

Yet when he reflected upon their interactions outside the bed curtains, they always seemed wrapped in a courteous, formal shell.

Not at all like the woman who came to him at night.

Was it because he had developed feelings for Madam Pu that he had become so vulnerable to these shifting moods?

So ensnared by the very sentiments he had once held at arm’s length?

Yan Chiyun frowned, his thoughts churning.

A murmur of voices reached him from beyond the screen.

He looked out.

Si Yan was speaking with his wife, helping her dry her hair.

He raised his hand and pressed his fingers to his brow, veiling the agitation that had taken possession of his features.

***

Pu Jinyu was already in bed when Yan Chiyun emerged from his bath.

She was drifting toward sleep, her consciousness suspended in that hazy threshold between waking and dreaming.

He looked at her, as he had looked at her so many times before.

Then he lay down beside her.

Not long after he settled himself, she shifted toward him.

She burrowed into his arms and nestled her head against the hollow of his neck.

Her body curved to fit the shape of his, and she rubbed her cheek against his skin, once, twice.

Yan Chiyun felt the weight of his earlier disquiet slowly lift, soothed by her small, seeking movements.

He looked down at her face, now freshly painted, her features serene and lovely as always.

Perhaps it did not matter, after all, that she would not show him her unadorned countenance.

She still wished to be close to him.

That was enough.

He would accept this as her secret, and he would not intrude upon it.

He must not be too forceful, too overbearing.

At this thought, he slid his arm around her waist and drew her more firmly against him.

His embrace closed about her, seamless and complete.

He closed his eyes and inclined his head toward hers, his cheek pressing against the soft darkness of her hair.

Pu Jinyu’s lashes stirred, faintly.

But she did not open her eyes.

“…”

***

Yan Huaixiao had not anticipated that his mother would finalize his marriage arrangements while he was away from home, deliberately avoiding the subject.

The household had moved with astonishing speed.

The betrothal gift inventory had been drafted, a matchmaker engaged, and the proposal conveyed to the Li family of the Hanlin Academy.

He had learned of his own engagement from the gossip of others.

Thus compelled, he had returned home against his will.

By the time Pu Jinyu arrived, Yan Huaixiao was already locked in heated argument with his mother.

The clamor of their dispute carried all the way from the main hall.

Yan Huaixiao declared he did not wish to marry.

He did not care for the young lady of the Li household.

Madam Yan demanded to know whom, then, he did care for.

He admitted there was no one.

He cared for no one.

He wished only to pursue his studies and sit for the examinations.

Could she not cease pressuring him?

Could she not stop tormenting him?

Madam Yan was far from satisfied.

She invoked Yan Chiyun’s example to subdue him.

Had not his elder brother obediently followed the family’s arrangements?

Had he not established both career and household without conflict between the two?

Was he not now firmly established at court?

“Is elder brother and sister-in-law truly as harmonious as Mother claims?

If they were truly so deeply united, why have they produced no heir in more than three years of marriage—nearly four?”

In the early days of their marriage, elder brother and sister-in-law had rarely crossed paths, rarely exchanged words.

To speak of them as “respectful as guests” was too generous.

“Cold as ice” would have been more accurate.

What meaning was there in such a union?

These past weeks, they had indeed grown closer.

But only to a certain degree.

It was simply that Mother had been pressing for an heir and had even raised the prospect of selecting a secondary wife for elder brother.

Thus, sister-in-law had been compelled to frequent elder brother’s bed.

Once a child was conceived, the old distance would surely reassert itself.

“Insolent boy!

Listen to the nonsense spilling from your mouth!”

Pu Jinyu’s foot had just crossed the threshold when she heard Yan Huaixiao’s ringing declaration.

An elderly matron was the first to notice her.

“Young madam has arrived.”

Madam Yan swiftly composed her features.

“Wange, you are here.

Come, sit.”

Yan Huaixiao’s outburst had been fueled by righteous indignation.

He had not anticipated that Pu Jinyu would overhear him.

His countenance shifted, discomfort plain upon his features.

“Sister-in-law… I did not mean it like that.”

He apologized to her, explaining that he had been beside himself with frustration and had spoken without thought.

He had not intended any offense.

“Kneel and apologize to your sister-in-law properly!”

Madam Yan’s finger jabbed the air toward him as she berated him.

Yan Huaixiao’s expression darkened.

Yet his mother’s authority could not be defied.

He was about to lower himself to his knees when Pu Jinyu stepped forward and prevented him.

“There is no need for such formality, younger brother-in-law.”

“We are all of one family.

A hasty word spoken in anger is of no consequence.”

Having absolved him, she deliberately composed her features into a stern mask.

“But you must not speak thus again.

If I should hear such words a second time…”

She left the sentence unfinished.

Yan Huaixiao seized upon her leniency.

“Sister-in-law may rest assured.

I swear I will never again speak so rashly.”

“If I do, Mother may cut out my tongue and present it to sister-in-law in atonement.”

“What nonsense is this!”

Madam Yan scolded him at length before the matter was finally laid to rest.

***

Yan Huaixiao had secretly hoped that Pu Jinyu might speak on his behalf, that her intervention might soften his mother’s resolve.

But he had already offended her with his careless words.

She sat in silence and offered no opinion.

He could not, in courtesy, importune her for assistance.

He argued his case with all the eloquence he could muster.

But his slender arm could not prevail against his mother’s unyielding thigh.

Madam Yan invoked even General Yan’s authority, informing her son that his father, too, deemed the match most suitable.

The young lady of the Li family was well-educated and reasonable, a fitting partner for him.

Yan Huaixiao’s hope that his father might be persuaded to intervene was extinguished completely.

His countenance settled into sullen lines.

He spoke no more.

Madam Yan observed her son’s submission with quiet satisfaction.

The couple’s birth charts had been compared and found harmonious long before the betrothal was proposed.

Madam Yan was determined that no further obstacles should arise.

She instructed the astrologers to select the nearest auspicious date for the wedding ceremony.

The Yan household ranked among the capital’s most eminent families, its sons accomplished and ambitious.

The Li family was even more eager than the Yans to conclude this alliance.

Naturally, they assented to Madam Yan’s choice of the nearest auspicious date.

Just as in her previous life.

No sooner had Pu Jinyu finished managing Yan Mingxi’s marriage than she was obliged to commence preparations for Yan Huaixiao’s.

All proceeded according to a orderly, inexorable rhythm.

The days appeared tranquil and untroubled.

But beneath the placid surface, currents churned with dangerous, unspoken force.

***

Today, she had finished reviewing the accounts submitted by the stewards and directed Si Yan to supervise the servants in the storehouse.

Inventory must be confirmed, purchases and replacements identified.

A young maidservant delivered a sealed letter.

Even before she opened it, Pu Jinyu knew from whom it came.

She unfolded the paper and reached for her tea, sipping slowly as she read.

Her mother’s letter was an unbroken litany of grievance.

Since Matron Wu and Jing Chun had been sent away, Madam Pu had subjected her to relentless persecution.

She was fed coarse, rotten food—when she was fed at all.

She was compelled to sweep the courtyards and sleep in the servants’ quarters.

No one in the Pu household treated her as a mistress.

Master Pu was a heartless ingrate who refused to defend her.

She had no silver left.

The small savings she had managed to preserve had been expended on agents sent to investigate Pu Wange’s whereabouts.

But no reply had ever come.

Pu Jinyu laughed coldly.

Her mother was demanding money.

Demanding that she solve this problem.

She finished reading, and without a flicker of hesitation, she touched the corner of the letter to the candle flame.

She watched it blacken, curl, and crumble to ash.

Then she ignored it entirely.

She sat with her tea, her eyes downcast, her thoughts slowly revolving.

Matron Wu, that old creature, now lingered at the threshold of death, barely able to rise from her bed.

She was no longer a threat.

But what of Jing Chun?

Jing Chun was the sole person who knew her elder sister’s whereabouts.

She had released Jing Chun in the hope that she would lead them to the snake’s hiding place.

But her mother had proved utterly useless.

To this day, she had not located Pu Wange.

Either Jing Chun had not gone to her at all.

Or she had gone, and Pu Wange simply did not wish to return.

Neither possibility mattered now.

If Jing Chun informed Madam Pu that her daughter yet lived, Madam Pu would certainly intervene.

She would shatter her daughter’s liaison and command that the sisters exchange places once more.

Pu Jinyu did wish to leave this household.

But not to be supplanted—to be supplanted was not liberation.

In her previous life, they had destroyed her.

In this life, she would exact her revenge in kind.

If she destroyed this marriage between the Yan and Pu households.

If she destroyed the very identity of “Pu Wange.”

If she brought disgrace and public contempt upon the Pu family.

Then even if her elder sister regretted her choices, would she dare to return?

Her gaze fell upon the crimson betrothal list before her.

Unbidden, the memory rose of her previous life—of the white-draped funeral hall, of the name “Pu Wange” carved upon her memorial tablet as she was laid to rest beneath the Yan ancestral rites.

In the depths of her eyes, a dark tide of hatred swelled and crested.