She couldn’t help protesting, “When did I ever pine after him…”

“Pfft—”

A snicker came from behind the wall of banners and lanterns.

Fan Changyu looked up and saw a few young gentlemen step out from behind the lantern wall, lifting the hanging banners as they emerged—and one of them was none other than Song Yan.

“Brother Song truly hides his talents well,” said a man in an apricot-yellow robe and scholar’s crown, tapping his folded fan against his palm with a smirk. “Not only has the magistrate’s daughter fallen for Brother Song’s learning, even his former fiancée—though married now—remains at odds with her husband because of him!”

It was obvious that he was also the one who had snickered earlier.

Fan Changyu’s face instantly darkened. She hadn’t imagined that behind that lantern wall would be Song Yan and his group of classmates.

Her lips pressed tightly together. Nothing disgusted her more than letting that man surnamed Song think she still had feelings for him.

Xie Zheng had seen Song Yan before and still retained some impression of him. When his cold, oppressive gaze swept across the group of frivolous scholars, it lingered on Song Yan for a few seconds longer.

Song Yan was dressed in a dark indigo robe, holding a folding fan even in the bitter cold. The moment he met Xie Zheng’s eyes, he instinctively looked away.

His companions, however, didn’t take it seriously. They all thought of themselves as men of rank and learning—each one had passed the county exam, men who could stand upright in court without kneeling—why would they fear the live-in son-in-law of a butcher’s daughter?

The man in yellow sneered at once. “Brother, don’t be so hot-headed. Brother Song is the only one in Qingping County to have passed the provincial exam. That your wife still thinks fondly of him is only natural.”

Another man beside him studied Fan Changyu for a while, then suddenly clapped his hands and laughed. “Ah, I remember now. A few years ago, this young lady once came all the way to the county school to bring Brother Song a set of winter clothes. I asked him who she was, and Brother Song said she was his younger sister!”

“So it seems this young lady’s feelings for Brother Song run deep indeed. No wonder her husband gets so worked up at the mere mention of him…”

The lantern fair was at its liveliest now, and their jeering remarks soon drew a crowd of onlookers. The bystanders pointed and whispered among themselves—

“So this is the fiancée who broke off her engagement with Scholar Song.”

“She’s quite pretty, I’ll give her that—but she’s already married. What’s she still pining after Scholar Song for? Only a live-in son-in-law could stomach that kind of humiliation…”

“What a coincidence to run into each other here. Maybe she knew Scholar Song would be at the lantern fair tonight and came just to see him?”

Hearing the murmurs, Song Yan cast a glance at Fan Changyu, then withdrew his gaze and said coolly to his companions, “Let’s go. These riddles are dull—nothing worth guessing.”

Listening to those voices and catching Song Yan’s look, Fan Changyu felt a fire surge up from her chest, burning through her veins until her whole body felt sick.

Xie Zheng looked at her once, then turned his cold gaze toward the group. “Stop.”

His tone was lazy, yet carried the weight of command.

At those words, the onlookers’ curiosity grew even keener.

Song Yan’s group halted. When his companions turned back, their faces wore mocking, self-important smiles.

The man in yellow laughed. “What, brother, you mean to start a fight with us? We’re all degree-holders. Lay a hand on us, and you’ll never see another peaceful day in your life.”

Xie Zheng’s mouth curved in sharper derision. His voice was cold. “You’ve read ten years of the sages’ books, and the rites, righteousness, integrity, and shame have all been swallowed by dogs? Is slandering a woman what passes for the conduct of scholars now?”

At that, the men faltered, embarrassment flickering across their faces.

His thin lips curved as he spat out one word—“Apologize.”

Only the man in yellow retorted, “When have we slandered anyone? We merely stated the truth.”

Xie Zheng lazily lifted his eyelids, his words sharp and cutting. “And what did you write on your exam papers for the imperial exam—critiques on women’s looks and morals? You’ve forgotten the rites of a gentleman, yet you’re adept at gossip. From the Nanfeng Pavilion, are you?”

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Someone even called out loudly, “Well said! A bunch of so-called scholars gossiping about a woman like market wives—shameless! Even the courtesans at Nanfeng Pavilion aren’t half as loose-tongued as you lot!”

The man in yellow flushed an ugly shade of purple, jabbing a finger at Xie Zheng. “You—you—”

His companion joined in angrily. “Vulgar and base words! A disgrace to all learning!”

Xie Zheng gave a cold, disdainful snort. “Learning? Do you even deserve that word? A few days of study and you think your eyes are above your head. What do you know of the northern geese flying south, or how a phoenix finds no place to alight upon the ground¹ “The northern geese fly south, and the land is so full of phoenixes that none can find a place to alight.” — a line by Qing dynasty scholar Song Xiang, meaning that when geese from the north fly south, the land is already filled with phoenixes, leaving no place for them to land; metaphorically describing a place overrun with the self-important and unworthy.?” 

As he said this, his indifferent gaze fell directly on Song Yan—it was clear the words were meant for him.

When the scholars realized that Xie Zheng was also a learned man, their expressions darkened with indignation. His final words had clearly been meant as an insult, yet none of them could think of a matching couplet sharp enough to retort with. Their faces turned an ugly shade of red.

After Xie Zheng spoke, Song Yan’s expression shifted through several subtle changes. In the end, he stepped forward and cupped his hands in a formal salute. “It was my two friends who spoke out of turn just now and offended Miss Fan—Madam Fan. I, Song, offer an apology on their behalf.”

Seeing Song Yan take the lead, the others—though reluctant—had no choice but to follow suit, bowing with cupped hands. “It was our fault just now. We beg your pardon.”

Xie Zheng said nothing and merely turned his gaze toward Fan Changyu.

Fan Changyu had known that Xie Zheng possessed literary talent, but she hadn’t expected him to single-handedly silence this group of scholars. After a brief moment of astonishment, she set her face in cool severity and said, “I was only joking with my husband. Since when is it the place of men who’ve read the sages’ books to gossip about it? My husband—he has both looks and learning. I’m neither foolish nor blind; why would I pine after another man?”

Her words drew laughter from the onlookers.

Song Yan’s face flushed red and pale by turns; the fingers of the hands he held clasped together in a bow were rigidly straight.

Xie Zheng lifted his eyes lazily. Though he knew most of her words were just to save face, somehow they still sounded pleasing to his ears.

After all… he didn’t think they were false.

Having regained her composure, Fan Changyu took Changning’s hand and gave a soft snort. “Let’s go.”

Xie Zheng cast one last indifferent glance at the group of scholars, then followed after her with unhurried steps, as though strolling through a garden.

Song Yan and his classmates burned with shame.

The bystanders were still whispering among themselves. “They say scholars are the most unfaithful. That Song Yan passed the provincial exam and then broke off his engagement—and now, meeting her again in public, even brings his friends to mock her! Truly disgraceful!”

“I think that live-in son-in-law of the Fan family’s got more talent than that lot. Wonder if he’ll ever sit for the exams himself—if he passes, the Fan family’s fortunes will surely rise.”

Hearing this, Song Yan’s face—half-hidden beneath the shifting lantern light—was dark as ink.

His companions, desperate to regain their dignity, shouted, “A kept pretty boy like that—if he really had the ability to pass the imperial exams, he wouldn’t be living off a woman!”

“I’d wager he couldn’t even pass the child-exam if he tried!”

But Song Yan’s expression didn’t ease in the slightest. “Enough for tonight,” he said coldly. “We’ll gather another day.”

Since he’d spoken, the others—humiliated enough already—had no wish to linger at the lantern fair. They dispersed quickly.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Xie Zheng walked a few paces behind Fan Changyu. The two of them, one in front and one behind, moved in silence for a while before he finally said, “What happened just now was my fault. I spoke out of turn first.”

If he hadn’t brought up Song Yan, those men behind the lantern wall wouldn’t have overheard and mocked her.

Fan Changyu paused mid-step. “It’s nothing. You already helped me—besides, I was the one who lied to you first.”

Xie Zheng looked up. “Lied about what?”

Fan Changyu rubbed at her hair, a little embarrassed. “I was afraid you’d misunderstand and think I had feelings for you, so I said I hadn’t gotten over him.”

Something flickered in Xie Zheng’s eyes at that.

“I thought…” he said quietly, “you were sad.”

Fan Changyu shot him a look that clearly said, As if.

The two had already left the street where the lantern exhibition was held. Suddenly, everything around them grew quiet; the occasional alley they passed was pitch-dark and eerily still.

Xie Zheng asked, “Is this the road to Yixiang Tower?”

“No.” Fan Changyu handed Changning over to him as soon as she finished speaking. “In a moment, cover Ning-niang’s eyes and take her a bit farther away.”

Xie Zheng was silent for a beat. “What are you going to do?”

Fan Changyu crouched with him in a dark corner, pulling out the coarse sack and clothes-beating stick she had bought when leaving the market. She bared her little tiger teeth in a grin. “That man in the yellow robe’s mouth was filthy. Beating him up is the only way to feel better!”

Footnotes

• 1
  “The northern geese fly south, and the land is so full of phoenixes that none can find a place to alight.” — a line by Qing dynasty scholar Song Xiang, meaning that when geese from the north fly south, the land is already filled with phoenixes, leaving no place for them to land; metaphorically describing a place overrun with the self-important and unworthy.