Chapter 7: A Portrait of Sorrow That Cannot Be Painted

Shen Residence, Stream Garden.

After her husband dealt with Lu Jin, Zhou Manyun hurried toward Stream Garden. Her mood, which had just begun to improve, was soured again by that wretched Lu Jin—such audacity!

Her own daughter was much doted on at home. Ever since returning from the capital three years ago, the old matriarch had bestowed Stream Garden upon Shen Yanxi. Shen Yanxi moved out from Plum Garden; such favor was unique in the Shen household.

The garden had not always been called Stream Garden; its former name was Radiant Garden. The old matriarch had simply changed the name.

Though Stream Garden was the smallest of the four gardens in the Shen residence, it was exquisite, refined, and ingeniously designed—a veritable pearl in the crown of Shen Garden.

The estate was vast; the walk from Plum Garden to Stream Garden was exhausting in itself. It was no easy feat to visit her daughter.

As Zhou Manyun saw Shen Yanxi stepping out the door, she hastened her pace, twisting her waist as she walked, with the maids and old servants trailing after her in a flurry.

The servants outside Shen Yanxi’s house, seeing the lady approach, stood on either side and greeted her respectfully. Inside, the wet nurse and a throng of maids and old women, hearing the lady’s voice, hurried out to stand behind Shen Yanxi and pay their respects.

Zhou Manyun had no time for courtesies. She rushed forward, seized Shen Yanxi’s hand, and asked urgently, “Where are you going?”

Shen Yanxi only murmured a soft, “Mother,” and fell silent.

Yuan Hui hurried a few steps forward and said to Zhou Manyun, “Madam, the young lady is going to see that scoundrel. If you ask me, he ought to be beaten to death and be done with it.”

Zhou Manyun glanced at Yuan Hui. “And you didn’t try to stop her? Simply let Yanxi go? Whether that scoundrel lives or dies, what does it matter?”

Yuan Hui thought to herself, “If only I could stop her.”

“Enough, get up. We’ll talk inside.” Zhou Manyun couldn’t bring herself to scold Yuan Hui further. She trusted Yuan Hui’s character; otherwise, she would never have kept her by her daughter’s side all these years.

“Look at you, your eyes are all swollen from crying.” Zhou Manyun took Shen Yanxi’s hand in one of hers and stroked her face with the other, her heart aching as if pricked by needles.

“That scoundrel truly deserves death!” The more Zhou Manyun thought about it, the more hatred she felt. In all of Jiangzhou, let alone the Shen residence, who dared to bully her daughter?

“Mother…” Shen Yanxi called softly, and her tears fell like pearls.

She felt wronged but could not voice it.

Seeing her daughter cry, Zhou Manyun’s own eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. Mother’s here, I will see justice done for you.” She soothed her daughter while wiping away her tears.

“Come, tell mother about that scoundrel.” As she spoke, she pulled Shen Yanxi gently into the house.

Shen Yanxi did not move.

“You stubborn child! What do you want, then?” Zhou Manyun asked in distress.

Shen Yanxi kept her head bowed, silent.

“Truly, what a pair of adversaries we are. Please, stop crying. Mother will do as you wish. Your tears break my heart.” Zhou Manyun was at her wits’ end. Shen Yanxi had been resilient and independent since childhood, mature beyond her years. When had she ever seen her daughter this distraught?

“What did father do with him?” Shen Yanxi asked anxiously.

“What else could he do? Thrown him in the Lan River to feed the fish. The wretch—perhaps even the fish would disdain him!” Zhou Manyun’s face was full of contempt and anger.

“Mother…” Shen Yanxi grasped Zhou Manyun’s arm urgently.

“Ai, he’s just kneeling in the Hall of Integrity... Hey, slow down!” Zhou Manyun hadn’t finished speaking when Shen Yanxi rushed outside.

“Are you all dead? Why aren’t you following?” Unable to restrain her daughter, Zhou Manyun vented her frustration on the servants.

Seeing the sky darken, Zhou Manyun’s heart grew heavy. Who knew what would happen next?

When Shen Yanxi, leading a large entourage, hurried to the Hall of Integrity, she found Lu Jin collapsed on the ground, utterly unable to rise.

He had not lasted until the hour of the pig, let alone midnight.

Lifting her skirts, Shen Yanxi strode to the center of the courtyard. Under the night sky, she saw Lu Jin curled on the ground, shivering and muttering, “I want to go home.” Her heart clenched—she had not expected things to end like this.

She had not come directly from Stream Garden to the Hall of Integrity. She had first gone to her father to beg permission, and only then did Uncle Jiang lead her here.

It was not that she did not know the way, but the household had its rules. Coming without her father’s consent would have been pointless, and her mother had not told her Lu Jin had been flogged.

Yet despite her haste, she was still too late.

The arrival of the Second Miss filled the cold courtyard with sudden commotion. In such a severe, heartless place, when had a legitimate daughter of the family ever entered? The guards and servants from all quarters emerged, greeting her one after another—some holding umbrellas, some rushing to help Shen Yanxi lift Lu Jin.

But Lu Jin was lost to consciousness. Had he been awake, he would have seen how stark the contrast was: in the Shen residence, the difference between people was far greater than he had imagined.

Others lived as people; he was like a stray dog, abandoned.

Shen Yanxi was angry. Whatever else, Lu Jin was her husband in name. How could they leave him lying in the open, uncared for?

“Didn’t any of you think to give him an umbrella, or let him kneel inside?” Shen Yanxi’s gaze swept coldly around.

She could not defy the Shen family’s rules or her father’s authority. As the daughter of a noble house, she well understood the importance of rules and laws. Even someone as clever as she had suffered punishment before. But she was still angry—the rules didn’t forbid umbrellas!

Second Miss, do you hear yourself? Have you ever seen anyone being punished with an umbrella over them, or allowed to choose a comfortable spot?

The servants bowed their heads, feigning remorse, but inwardly they sneered.

You are the Second Miss; whatever you say is right!

Shen Yanxi knew her words were useless, but she had to say them. This was her husband, at least for now. He was not someone for the servants to bully at will. If she let this pass, they would dare to ride roughshod over him in future.

She had no patience for further argument and called to Uncle Jiang, “Come and carry Lu Jin.”

The steward, Uncle Jiang, was utterly bewildered, his wrinkled face full of disbelief: Second Miss, there are plenty of able-bodied young men here—why pick on an old man like me?

Shen Yanxi paid him no mind, watching as the group helped lift Lu Jin onto the steward’s back.

She quickly ordered Siqi, “Go fetch the family doctor!”

The party bustled out of the courtyard. A carriage waited outside—otherwise, the old steward might have had to retire on the spot after carrying Lu Jin.

Watching the carriage recede into the night, the old steward bent over, bracing one leg and rubbing his waist, his eyes full of existential doubt. He felt certain the Second Miss had done this on purpose. But why?

Lu Jin dreamed.

He was home again, in Shangqing County.

There was a beautiful village, with peach blossoms blooming everywhere.

His mother was a kindly old woman, who waited every afternoon at the entrance of the village, leaning on her cane, waiting for him to return.

Her hair was white, its former luster long gone, her face lined with years. Yet when she smiled, she was beautiful.

“Mother!”