The window with a hole in it was crookedly nailed with a few planks of wood, unable to block the wailing wind outside. The flickering flames in the firepit cast the entire room in shifting light and shadow.
After a stretch of eerie silence, Xie Zheng spoke. “I overthought it. Let’s do it your way.”
Fan Changyu quickly shook her head. Earlier that day, the people from the money house had sought her out to collect a debt, and he happened to see it. If she really went to put a sack over Fan Da’s head, the other party might truly think she was some ruthless, vicious thug.
Feeling somewhat awkward, she said, “If there were any other way, I definitely wouldn’t take this risk. If the matter gets exposed, I’ll have to face a lawsuit again.”
Xie Zheng’s eyes lowered slightly, the pitch-black pupils reflecting the firelight without any warmth. He suddenly said, “If you’re not afraid of trouble, just settle Fan Da once and for all. That’d be simpler.”
His tone was cool and detached, as if the man who had just said he’d teach her to argue her case with the law wasn’t him at all.
Fan Changyu instantly understood what he meant by “settle.” Goosebumps crawled up her arms, and her apricot eyes widened as she looked at him. “K–kill someone?”
Seeing her reaction, Xie Zheng’s long lashes curved faintly in the firelight. He turned his gaze toward the blazing flames, his tone utterly serious yet sounding casual. “I’m joking.”
His voice was lazy, with a hint of indifference.
If anyone had pushed him this far, their head would’ve already rolled.
When he said he’d teach her the Great Yin Code, it was the best solution he could think of from her standpoint. Still, though she was tougher than he had expected, she couldn’t quite be called ruthless.
When Fan Changyu’s doubtful gaze lingered over his handsome face, he half-lifted his eyes, meeting hers directly. “Shall I teach you the Great Yin Code now?”
Fan Changyu immediately forgot the embarrassment of being caught peeking and nodded bitterly.
She had never liked studying since she was young—just seeing words made her head ache. The fact that she could read now was all thanks to her mother forcing her with a bamboo switch.
Ink, brush, paper, and inkstone were all in the southern room, so Fan Changyu went to Xie Zheng’s quarters. To improve the lighting, she adjusted the lampwick on the desk until it burned brighter.
There were no books of the Great Yin Code at home, so Xie Zheng recited several relevant articles from memory for her to read and memorize.
Since this concerned whether she could keep her family property, Fan Changyu gave it her full attention. Yet whether it was because of the late hour or because the legal text itself was a natural sleep aid, her eyelids began to droop as she recited.
Xie Zheng sat beside her on a bamboo chair, eyes closed as if resting, but it was as though he had eyes on his forehead. Whenever Fan Changyu’s head began to bob like a pecking chick, he would open his eyes and tap twice on the desk with his knuckles.
Fan Changyu jolted awake, yawning as she held the papers, tears welling at the corners of her eyes from drowsiness. Forcing her eyelids open, she continued reciting: “Great Yin Code, Household Law, Chapter of Extinguished Lineages, Article Seventeen: If the household line is extinguished, when there is a son, establish the eldest; when there is no son, establish an heir…”
“Since the household is extinguished, where would there be a ‘son to establish the eldest’?” came a cold voice from beside her.
The sound of his voice made her shudder. Like a student caught dozing in class, she hurriedly glanced down at the lines he had written, reading again with half-closed eyes: “If the household line is extinguished, select an heir to establish. If none is selected, the parents and siblings shall divide it, supporting any unmarried daughters. If the extinguished line accepts a matrilocal son-in-law, the son-in-law may not divide the property; the daughter shall inherit it…”
Xie Zheng spoke at the right moment. “According to this law, the estate left by your parents should have gone entirely to you. But your grandparents are still alive—and ill—and your uncle loafs around. Three days from now at the county office, if they argue under the Great Yin Code, Filial Piety Statutes, at least half of your parents’ estate will have to be given to your grandparents. Since your grandparents and uncle haven’t split the household, that money will eventually end up in his hands.”
Fan Changyu’s sleepiness was dispelled by half in an instant. She frowned and said with some reluctance, “Then I’ll take my grandparents in and care for them?”
Xie Zheng looked at her. “Are you close to them?”
Fan Changyu shook her head.
Her family hadn’t been close to her grandparents even when her parents were alive.
When her mother gave birth to Changning, she had nearly died from a difficult labor. The doctor barely saved her life and said she might never conceive again.
When the elderly couple came to offer congratulations, they held the swaddled infant and said, between the lines, that her mother had failed to bear her father a son, suggesting that her parents adopt a boy from the Fan family—so they’d have someone to depend on in their old age.
Her parents ignored them, so the old couple went home and spread rumors that her mother was jealous and unfilial, whispering in her father’s ear day and night, trying to make the Fan family die without heirs.
Her father personally went to the old residence once, and only then did things quiet down—but ever since, they rarely interacted. Only during New Year and festivals would her father bring a piece of pork to the old couple, but he never stayed for a meal—he would drop it off and leave immediately.
Xie Zheng said, “According to The Supplement to the Yin Code · Household and Marriage Laws, Article Eleven—if you seek out local witnesses to testify that Fan Da is addicted to gambling, then the half that should be allocated to your grandparents can be placed under your management.”
Fan Changyu, being straightforward by nature, couldn’t wrap her head around all these twists and turns. She asked in confusion, “How is that any different from me supporting those two elders myself?”
Xie Zheng was silent for a breath, then pressed his brow and explained patiently, “If you bring them over, you’ll be obliged to care for them. If you keep the money in your hands, whether you give it or not will be up to you.”
Fan Changyu slapped the desk in excitement. “That’s a good idea! Even if it costs me something, it’s worth it when it’s spent on Fan Da’s family! How do you know all this?”
Xie Zheng glanced at the desk that had been shaking ever since her slap, and had no doubt that if she hit it any harder, it would collapse on the spot.
His long fingers turned the page of the scroll on his knee, and he lied without the slightest change of breath or color. “I’ve traveled much, so I’ve heard many strange cases. There was once a wealthy merchant’s daughter who married a man into her family. When her clan tried to seize her inheritance, she hired a well-known local lawyer—and this was the very method that lawyer used.”
Fan Changyu praised sincerely, “That lawyer must have been a real genius!”
Xie Zheng said nothing, only the corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly.
Fan Changyu cast him a guilty glance. “Then… since we already have a way to deal with it, can I stop memorizing?”
Memorizing was true torture for her. These obscure, complicated laws were even worse than those ancient essays full of zhi hu zhe ye.
Xie Zheng said flatly, “If you can answer in court which article of the law your argument comes from, then you may stop memorizing.”
Fan Changyu wanted to say that he could just come with her to court, but then remembered his injured leg—kneeling the whole time in the courtroom would worsen his condition—so she swallowed the words back.
Her face scrunched like a steamed bun as she resignedly continued memorizing.
Xie Zheng casually flipped through the miscellaneous book in his hand, listening as her voice faded from a mosquito’s hum to fragmented mumbling. He couldn’t help lifting his eyelids to look over.
The next moment, her drowsy head had already fallen onto the desk, her breathing slowly evening out.
Xie Zheng: “…”
The one keeping her company hadn’t slept yet, but the one being tutored was already fast asleep.
It was the first time he’d seen her sleeping up close. The candlelight cast a long shadow from her lashes, and her fair cheeks were softly illuminated. Her lips were gently pressed together—altogether a serenity entirely different from when she was awake.
But even in her dreams, she seemed troubled. Her brows were faintly knitted, loose strands of hair spilling down, and between her brows lingered a misty gloom.
Realizing he had been staring, Xie Zheng frowned, and as he turned away—intending to wake her and tell her to return to her room—he suddenly heard her whisper softly in her sleep: “Mother…”
Her voice was nasal, as if crying.
Xie Zheng frowned deeper and looked at her again. Her head rested on her own arm, pressing down several strands of black hair. Under the flickering candlelight, her face seemed no bigger than a palm.
He had always thought her thin, though her lively spirit had made one overlook it. Now, seeing her half-slumped over the desk, she seemed not just thin, but frail.
A strange and unfamiliar emotion stirred faintly in his chest. Xie Zheng stared at her, his fine brows tightening even more.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
At dawn, Fan Changyu woke up as usual. The room was pitch dark, and as she sat up, both her hands and legs felt numb.
The memory of last night returned, and she realized she must still be slumped over the table. She took out a fire striker, lit it, and managed to cast some light over the room.
The oil in the lamp on the desk had already burned out. She was about to look for a candle when she turned her head and saw that Xie Zheng was also asleep beside her—his hand pressing down on the edge of her sleeve. She tugged hard to pull it free.
The movement woke him. When their eyes met, his were cold and dark as ink.
Fan Changyu froze for a moment and thought, He really wakes up grumpy.
“Did I wake you?” she asked.
The fierceness in his eyes quickly faded, but for some reason, his brows knit tighter, and on his fair, handsome face remained a faint red mark where pressure had left its trace.
Fan Changyu said dryly, “So you also fell asleep reading, huh?”
He only gave a vague hum in response.
“I’ll go find a candle,” she said.
The fire striker in her hand couldn’t burn for long, and its light was weak.
But the moment she stood up, the numbness in her legs hadn’t yet passed, and her whole body toppled sideways.
With a loud crash, both of them went down together—man, chair, and all—while the fire striker fell to the floor and went out.
Fan Changyu had banged her hands and knees in several places, the pain making her bare her teeth. Thinking that there was someone underneath her, she hurriedly scrambled up to help him. “Are you alright? I didn’t reopen your wound, did I?”
“I’m fine.” The answer sounded strained.
Clearly, he wasn’t fine—because for the next two days, he didn’t even get out of bed.
Fan Changyu figured Xie Zheng must be angry with her. During those two days, he was noticeably colder toward her than before, speaking as little as possible and avoiding her whenever he could.
Even when avoidance wasn’t possible, he either wouldn’t look at her or would frown when he did.
Fan Changyu had apologized, and though he said it was nothing, he was still quietly keeping his distance.
She couldn’t understand why. When memorizing the legal codes, there were still parts she didn’t fully grasp and wanted to ask him about, but now she didn’t dare.
Those two days, she studied at home, and whenever she had a moment free at the shop, she would take out the few sheets of paper and recite them silently. She’d finally memorized about seventy or eighty percent and had also gathered a few neighbors to serve as witnesses.
On the morning of the court hearing, she thought about Xie Zheng’s strange behavior these past days and went to the southern room to speak to him.
“Your handwriting is good,” she said. “If you have time today, you can draft the he li [divorce] document first. After I transfer my parents’ house and land, I’ll come back and sign my name. Once you’ve recovered, you can go wherever you wish.”
He had made it clear from the start that once he healed, he would leave. The only explanation Fan Changyu could think of now was that he feared she might go back on her word—that once she inherited the property, she wouldn’t fulfill her promise.
By giving him the written divorce, she thought, he would finally be at ease.
