Chapter 2: Bathing

Dusk was falling.

The old locust tree in the yard was gilded with a golden edge by the setting sun.

Its delicate leaves swayed gently in the wind, casting long, thin shadows across the blue-brick floor.

Xia Ling was squatting under the porch, fiddling with a small wild flower she had plucked from somewhere.

The flower was light pink with five petals, and she spun it back and forth between her fingertips.

Resting her chin on her hand, she watched the dancing figure in the courtyard, her voice sounding muffled.

“I really think Qi Chuyao isn’t good enough for the Young Master, don’t you?”

No one in the courtyard responded.

There was only the sharp whistle of a sword cutting through the air.

Xia Shuang was practicing her swordplay.

She wore a green dress, and its hem bloomed like a flower in full splendor as she whirled through the sunset.

The long sword in her hand glinted with a cold, clear light. Her movements were fierce; every stab and parry carried a chilling killing intent.

The setting sun fell upon her, flowing along the contours of her body. As she spun, her sweat-dampened hair caught the wind, drawing fine arcs in the air.

Xia Ling watched for a moment before looking back down to pull at the petals.

“I feel like if we follow the Young Master when he marries into that family, we might have a hard time,” she sighed.

“It’s fine as long as we serve the Young Master, but the thought of having to serve another person makes me feel sick.”

The swordplay did not stop.

Xia Ling wasn’t annoyed and continued talking to herself. “Do you think Qi Chuyao will replace the two of us? I could tell she wasn’t anyone good the last time I saw her!”

Thinking of this, she recalled that face.

She had seen it a few times when Qi Chuyao occasionally visited the manor. That face was born with nobility, yet there was always a hint of cold arrogance between her brows that kept people at a distance.

Xia Ling disliked that look. It was as if she were looking at something insignificant.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She threw the flower onto the ground.

“Say something!” she shouted, standing up with her hands on her hips toward the center of the courtyard. “You’re not a mute anymore, Xia Shuang!”

The sword light suddenly vanished.

Xia Shuang’s toes lightly touched the ground as she spiraled into the air, her green dress tracing a smooth arc. Using the momentum of the spin, she slid her long sword back into its scabbard.

Clang.

With a soft sound, the sword was sheathed, and she landed steadily. She didn’t look at Xia Ling but instead turned toward the house.

“Be quiet,” she said, her voice sounding a bit stiff. “He is reading.”

“I… don’t want to talk.”

Xia Ling followed her gaze.

Inside the room, Song Ning was sitting at his desk, reading. The setting sun slanted through the window, casting an orange glow over him. He wore a plain white robe and sat very straight, his head slightly bowed as he held a book.

It wasn’t so much a book as it was a thick stack of paper riddled with tiny dots.

It was the “Braille Board” he had crafted himself.

When he had taught Xia Ling and Xia Shuang how to read, he had also taught them a method of breaking words down into strange symbols.

By clamping thick paper into a specially made board and using an awl to prick dots from right to left in reverse according to a code, he created pages that were then bound into volumes.

The first time Xia Ling saw a page covered in those dense, raised dots, her eyes had gone wide. How was that a book? It looked like an army of ants moving house.

Yet, relying on those “ants,” Song Ning had read through book after book.

At this moment, the sunset was deep. No lamps were lit in the room, but it didn’t affect him at all.

His slender fingers gently brushed over the paper, his fingertips pausing and moving over each raised dot. His expression was focused and serene.

Watching that figure, a ripple of emotion stirred in Xia Ling’s heart, and she suddenly didn’t want to talk anymore.

She silently withdrew her gaze and squatted back down. Picking up the discarded flower, she spoke gloomily. “Do you really have no thoughts on the matter?”

Xia Shuang stood under the porch, clutching her sword. The sunset stretched her shadow long. Her cool, small face was tight, and her lips were pressed into a thin line.

“I do.”

Losing interest, Xia Ling pulled a waterskin from her sleeve, unscrewed the cap, and took a gulp.

She knew Xia Shuang too well; the girl was pitifully laconic. What could she possibly have to say?

“What thoughts?” she asked casually.

Xia Shuang suddenly gripped her sword hilt.

“Kill her.”

Pfft!

Xia Ling sprayed a mouthful of water, coughing violently. She wiped the corners of her mouth with her sleeve while giving Xia Shuang an exasperated glare.

This girl, honestly…

No matter how unwilling they were, they couldn’t possibly move against Qi Chuyao.

She was the legitimate daughter of the Qi family, the pearl of a family with decades of ties to theirs. Her skills aside, she was at least a ranked expert.

If they touched Qi Chuyao, the thirty years of friendship between the Song and Qi families would be destroyed.

What would happen to Song Ning? What would happen to the dozens of people in the Song household?

Xia Ling sealed the waterskin and was about to say more when a voice called out from the room.

“Little Ling, Little Shuang.”

Xia Ling instantly came to life. She stood up, her irritation vanishing as her eyes crinkled into a smile. Her voice was bright and clear.

“Young Master, I’m coming!”

Lifting her skirt, she ran toward the room. After a few steps, she turned back to wave at Xia Shuang. “Hurry up!”

Xia Shuang stowed the sword behind her back and followed with large strides.

The door was pushed open.

Song Ning sat at the desk with the thick stack of papers spread before him. Hearing the door, he pushed the papers aside, his fingers feeling for the edge of the desk as he raised his head.

His face appeared exceptionally handsome in the sunset. His features were relaxed, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His white pupils were turned toward the door.

Even though he could see nothing, it felt as though he were looking right at them.

“I want to bathe today,” he said softly. “Help me.”

Xia Ling’s eyes lit up.

“You got it!” she replied quickly, turning to pull Xia Shuang back outside. “I’ll go get everything ready right now!”

Song Ning heard the footsteps fading away and smiled, staying still. He sat in his chair, his fingers resting on the table, still able to touch the edge of the stack of papers.

The book he had been reading was compiled by a Great Confucian Scholar.

It spoke of the principles of this era: the Three Fundamental Bonds and Five Constant Virtues, Male Virtue, the Male Precepts, and the distinctions between superior and inferior.

He didn’t read these things to achieve fame or a government position; with this body and this gender, that was impossible. He simply wanted to understand this world better.

As the Young Master of a prominent family, it wouldn’t do to be uneducated and make the Song family a laughingstock.

However, as he read, his thoughts drifted.

What should he do in two days? The wedding date was drawing closer and closer.

He lowered his eyes, his fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the desk.

‘Maybe I should just turn a blind eye after the wedding… no, I might as well just be a blind man who sees nothing at all.’

……

The sun gradually sank in the west.

Steam filled the bathroom. Xia Ling and Xia Shuang had been busy for quite some time before everything was finally prepared.

The tub was filled with hot water, and a layer of dried osmanthus flowers floated on the surface, their faint fragrance rising with the steam.

The bath beans, towels, and a change of clothes were all neatly arranged.

Xia Ling gently supported Song Ning’s arm, guiding him inside.

“Young Master, the threshold, lift your foot… Good, walk forward, three steps… Right, the tub is on your left.”

She spoke softly as they walked, her voice gentle—entirely different from her usual boisterous self.

The head of the Song family had only this one son and naturally treated him very well. This bathroom had been built specifically for him.

The floor was paved with fine, anti-slip bricks, all the corners were rounded, and even the threshold was lower than elsewhere.

Knowing this made Xia Ling feel warm inside. The head of the house truly doted on the Young Master, and the head of the Qi family also greatly admired him.

Only that one blind woman didn’t like him, yet she still had to marry him.

Inside the bathroom, Xia Ling and Xia Shuang worked together to undress him.

Xia Shuang stood on one side, her small face tight and her expression meticulous. She was always serious in her duties.

Unfastening the belt and removing the outer robe, every movement was disciplined, and her gaze stayed only where it should.

Xia Ling was different.

She stood on the other side, and while her hands didn’t stop moving, her eyes were not as well-behaved.

As Song Ning’s outer robe was removed, revealing the moon-white inner garment beneath, the collar opened slightly to show a small section of his collarbone.

Xia Ling’s gaze secretly drifted upward and then swept downward. Catching glimpses of his silhouette made her heart flutter.

Although they were his personal attendants, there were boundaries they could not cross, and Song Ning would never allow them to see certain things.

She didn’t dare be too obvious, fearing Song Ning would notice.

If the Young Master got angry and stopped letting her serve him, what would she do? She couldn’t end up like the previous attendants.

But she couldn’t help herself.

Her face felt a little hot, but she had to keep her hands moving with an air of professional solemnity.

She stole a glance at Xia Shuang from the corner of her eye and felt a slight relief when she saw that the other girl wasn’t paying her any attention.

When the inner garment was removed, only the innermost white sleeping robe remained.

Xia Ling’s hands paused. She and Xia Shuang both stopped. The Young Master was close to them, but in these matters, propriety had to be maintained.

“Young Master, my sister and I will wait outside,” Xia Ling said as usual. “Be sure to call us if you need anything!”

Holding Song Ning’s hand, she guided him to touch the positions of all the items one last time: the edge of the tub, the box of bath beans, where the towel was hanging, and where the fresh clothes were placed.

Only after confirming every location was she at ease.

“Okay,” Song Ning nodded. “Go on.”

Xia Ling and Xia Shuang retreated from the bathroom, softly closing the door behind them.

Outside, the two of them stood on either side of the door. The faint sound of water came from within. Through the door, nothing could be seen.

Xia Ling leaned against the wall, looking at the darkening sky. She suddenly asked in a low voice, “Do you think the Young Master will really be happy in the future?”

Xia Shuang did not answer. She held her sword and looked at the last streak of sunset on the horizon, her face maintaining its cool expression.

Inside the bathroom, the water rippled softly. The scent of osmanthus drifted through the cracks in the door, lingering in the air.

Xia Ling lowered her head, her gaze shifting toward the window, where a faint light glowed from within.