The morning air in the Lin estate was crisp, but the voices inside were anything but calm.
"You left the plum wine unfinished again?" sneered Madam Lin, her voice sharp as the edge of a broken teacup. "No wonder my son barely steps into your chambers. You can't even pour a drink properly."
Yueli stood in the corner of the west hall, her hands clasped before her, head bowed. "I believed the wine had spoiled, mother. The scent was—"
"—Unacceptable," snapped Lin Suyin, lips painted red and thin as thread. "A spoiled wine, just like your manners. Our Lin women are taught to serve with grace, not opinions."
"Maybe she thinks she's better than us," added Lin Minhua, emboldened by the air of mockery. "With her books and paintings and that medicine talk. As if we care."
Yueli said nothing.
She had learned silence could cut cleaner than a thousand retorts.
But it did not protect her from the sting.
They had always resented her. For her talents. For the way Yuan's name gained favor in court after marrying her. For the fact that she—an outsider—stood in a place they believed belonged to someone else.
To Qingxue, she sometimes suspected. Though no one ever said the name aloud.
As the insults faded into sighs and murmurs, she took her leave quietly. Her steps light, her face calm. Only her hands trembled once, as she adjusted the sleeve over her wrist.
….
When Yuan returned that afternoon, he found the courtyard alive with sudden activity.
A visiting envoy had arrived—unexpected, prestigious.
Lord Xu Jin.
He dismounted with quiet ease, dressed in court-gray silk embroidered with cranes and waves, the mark of a man who belonged among the empire's highest ministers. The other two followed him.
Yuan recognized the polished grace. The steady, thoughtful voice. He remembered how Xu Jin used to pause when speaking with Yueli, as if waiting for her to reveal some hidden insight. As if he admired not just her beauty, but her mind.
"General Lin," Xu said, bowing with a diplomat's smile. "It has been too long. I come bearing tidings from the capital—and, I must confess, with the hope of renewing old acquaintances."
Yuan's expression didn't flicker. "You honor us."
Xu Jin's eyes wandered across the estate. "Is Lady Yueli well? I recall she was always fond of plum blossoms… They bloom beautifully here."
"She is occupied," Yuan said, his tone more clipped than polite.
But fate, ever cruel, stirred the wind.
And Yueli stepped into the courtyard at that moment, returning from the physician's chamber. Her robes were modest, her hair pinned simply, and yet there was something effortless in the way she moved—quiet, self-contained grace.
She paused when she saw the stranger, puzzled but composed.
"My lord," she greeted, bowing.
Xu Jin smiled. "Lady Shen. It is a joy to see you again."
She blinked. "You… remember me?"
"Clearly." He inclined his head. "Some people are not easily forgotten."
Yueli lowered her gaze, cheeks faintly tinged, though with confusion, not blush.
Yuan watched all of it. Every glance. Every silence. Every word.
And the fire under his ribs grew hotter.
….
Later that afternoon, a small gathering formed in the inner reception hall—an impromptu tea hosted by Madam Lin under the pretense of welcoming the visiting envoy. She was perhaps, hoping Xu Jin would be enthralled by one of her daughters. Xu Jin sat with practiced ease, his gaze occasionally drifting to the quiet woman seated on the far side of the room.
Yueli.
She poured tea silently for Madam Lin, her movements elegant but understated. She hadn't been asked to serve, but she did anyway—out of habit now, not obligation.
The air reeked of dried rose petals and barbed words.
No matter how you straighten, a dog's tail is bound to curl back. The two daughters have been quiet and well behaved a complete contrast to their usual selves. Yet, habits die hard, and one of them started:
Lin Minhua clicked her tongue as she watched Yueli pour. "At least she's good with her hands."
Madam Lin gave a thin smile, that did not reach her eyes and spoke quietly so everyone except Xu Jin who was seated afar couldn't hear. "Perhaps she is hoping Minister Xu might appreciate such artistry more than her current husband does."
Yueli froze, her hand steady but heart lurching.
Across the room, Xu Jin merely sipped his tea, unreadable.
Yuan heard but remained silent.
But the words did not go unnoticed by others.
Lin Yuan, cast a look toward his mother. A faint crease formed on his brow.
But he said nothing.
Not to defend Yueli.
Not to rebuke his sister.
Not to stop what everyone could see was meant to humiliate.
Yueli bowed her head and retreated from the center, leaving behind a cup of untouched tea and silence that echoed louder than speech.
….
That night, Yueli sat by her window, a book of medicinal diagrams open in her lap, though she hadn't read a single page. The day's events looped in her mind—the stinging insults of the morning, the envoy's strange familiarity, the afternoon's humiliation and Yuan's sudden silence all evening.
She had once believed she would be cherished. For her skills. For her love.
But the walls of the Lin estate felt more like a cage with every passing season.
Outside, a breeze stirred the lantern light. In her hands, the page of the book creased slightly where she'd held it too long.
And across the compound, Yuan stood in his study, staring at the flickering shadow of her silhouette on the paper screen.
He did not understand why it bothered him so much—that Xu Jin had spoken her name like a prayer.
Or that she had looked at the man and smiled, even if only in politeness.
He had never defended her from his family.
And yet the idea of another man admiring her made his blood burn.
….
Outside, dusk fell over the compound.
In the garden, Yuan stood alone beneath the plum tree.
He had not said a word in that hall. Not even when his wife—his wife—had been spoken of like a passing trinket.
His hands were clenched behind him, knuckles white.
Why hadn't he said anything?
Because he didn't want to admit it stung?
He had built walls around himself for so long, even he didn't know where they began and ended anymore.
But as the wind rustled the blossoms above, he knew one thing.
If Xu Jin kept looking at her that way…
He might have to choose between silence and something far more dangerous.