An eerie silence fell over the room.
"What's wrong?" Shen Jintang asked.
Gu Zhixing seemed to want to say something; his lips moved, but he ultimately remained silent.
He mechanically stood up and started clearing the dishes, the sound of the porcelain bowls clattering together particularly jarring in the silence.
As he carried the bowls and plates to the kitchen, he heard Shen Jintang groping to his feet and slowly walking towards the inner room.
The voice was soft, yet every step felt like it was treading on his heart.
In the kitchen, Gu Zhixing immersed his hands in the cold water and vigorously scrubbed the dishes and chopsticks.
Water splashed onto his front, leaving a dark stain.
He washed so hard that his knuckles started to turn white, but he still felt that there was some stain on his hands that he couldn't wash off.
—The Shangguan family.
These three words lingered in his mind.
Shangguan Qingchen—the famous young master of Yangzhou, a talented scholar who was once known as one of the "Twin Jewels" alongside Shen Jintang.
He still remembers the scene when he first met Shen Jintang at the Qinhuai Poetry Society: Shen Jintang wrote a poem, and Shangguan Qingchen played the zither in harmony. All the literati present sighed that it was a match made in heaven.
Before the Xie family's misfortune, the Shangguan family did indeed send a matchmaker to propose marriage, and even prepared thirty-six loads of betrothal gifts.
If it weren't for that unexpected turn of events, Shen Jintang would probably be...
Gu Zhixing swallowed a mouthful of bitterness, his throat bobbing.
Over the years, he deliberately avoided inquiring about Shangguan Qingchen, only hearing that the man was still unmarried.
Now Shen Jintang is able to use the Shangguan family's money shop.
Could it be that... they've still been in contact all these years?
What exactly are Shen Jintang's feelings for Shangguan Qingchen?
A sharp pain suddenly surged in Gu Zhixing's chest, as if someone was slowly gouging out his heart with a blunt knife.
The rough porcelain bowl made a soft "click" sound on the table. Gu Zhixing was surprised to realize that he had actually cracked the bowl.
He hurriedly let go, only to see a few drops of blood seeping from his palm—the blisters that had been rubbed raw at the dock had burst again.
This seemingly insignificant pain suddenly brought him to his senses: what did he have to compare with that successful and smug scholar Shangguan?
Gu Zhixing slammed the last bowl into the cupboard with a loud thud.
He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down.
Jin Tang is blind, so I can't make her angry anymore.
He mentally slapped himself – what right did he have to blame her?
If you weren't so useless, she wouldn't be in this situation.
When he returned to the inner room with the hot water, Shen Jintang had already changed into her nightgown and was sitting quietly on the edge of the bed waiting for him.
Gu Zhixing silently squatted down and gently held her slender ankle.
"Is the water hot?" he asked softly, his fingers brushing against her icy toes.
Shen Jintang shook her head, her toes unconsciously curling up slightly.
Gu Zhixing carefully immersed her feet in the hot water, his movements as gentle as if he were handling some fragile treasure.
He lowered his head and focused on massaging the acupoints on the soles of her feet—the doctor said this would promote blood circulation and be good for her eyes.
“Gu Zhixing,” Shen Jintang suddenly called out to him.
"Hmm?" He didn't look up, his voice muffled.
"You're angry."
This is not a question.
Gu Zhixing paused for a moment, then continued the massage.
"No," he lied.
Shen Jintang sighed and suddenly lifted her foot out of the water, splashing water droplets onto Gu Zhixing's clothes.
“Look at me,” she said, even though she knew she wouldn’t see him even if he looked up.
Gu Zhixing finally raised his head and gazed at her face by candlelight.
That once bright and beautiful face now carries a complex expression that he cannot decipher.
Water droplets slid down her calves, leaving dark marks on the edge of the bed.
"I'll go get some water first." Gu Zhixing looked away and silently poured the foot-washing water under the pear tree in the corner of the yard, the water splashing and wetting his trouser legs.
He stood in the night and took a deep breath. The early autumn wind was already chilly, but it couldn't extinguish the nameless fire in his heart.
Back inside, Shen Jintang had already groped her way to lie down.
Her reclining figure appeared exceptionally frail in the candlelight, like a fallen leaf that could be blown away by the wind at any moment.
Gu Zhixing gently blew out the candle, and when he lifted the covers to lie down, the bed made a slight creaking sound.
Shen Jintang had her back to him, seemingly angry.
Gu Zhixing hesitated for a long time before turning around, tightening his arms, and holding her firmly against his chest.
She's too thin, he thought. He could feel her shoulder blades through her nightgown, like a pair of butterfly wings about to emerge from their cocoons.
"Gu Zhixing..." Shen Jintang's voice was muffled in his chest, "You're choking me so much I can't breathe."
Gu Zhixing then realized how much force he had used, and hurriedly loosened his grip a little, but still refused to let go completely.
He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the faint medicinal scent emanating from her, and suddenly felt his eyes welling up with tears.
“I’m such a useless piece of trash…” his voice was hoarse, “I can’t even earn enough to buy you medicine…”
Shen Jintang stirred in his arms, groped for his hand, and their fingers intertwined.
Her hands were a size smaller than his, but her palms had thin calluses from years of holding a pen.
“You’ve already done very well,” she said softly, her fingertips gently stroking the blisters on his palm. “It’s easy to go from frugality to extravagance, but difficult to go from extravagance to frugality. You are a prince, yet you can carry bags at the docks. That already surpasses many people.”
Gu Zhixing didn't say anything, but simply hugged her tighter.
“Not to mention…” Shen Jintang continued, “When you only had three coins today, you gave them to that brother and sister. Not everyone is as kind-hearted as you. You are very good.”
Gu Zhixing's heart clenched suddenly.
He didn't expect her to know even this.
"How could you..."
Shen Jintang seemed to know what he was going to ask, "I saw that brother and sister today and came here specifically to thank you. I asked them to buy these dishes."
"Hmm." Gu Zhixing nodded listlessly.
He was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked in a muffled voice, "So, am I better, or is Shangguan Qingchen better?"
The question was abrupt, and Shen Jintang's body visibly stiffened for a moment.
She raised her head, her lifeless eyes turning towards Gu Zhixing, her brows furrowing slightly: "You know Shangguan Qingchen?"
Gu Zhixing's Adam's apple bobbed.
Of course he knows.
From the time Shen Jintang was twelve years old, he would send someone to paint her portrait and inquire about her every year.
He knew exactly which poetry gatherings she attended, what flowers she admired, and what poems she wrote.
The name "Shangguan Qingchen" is like a thorn, which grows deeper and deeper with age.
"I've heard of him," he finally replied vaguely, his voice tinged with a bitterness he himself didn't realize. "A famous scholar from Yangzhou, isn't he?"
Shen Jintang was silent for a while, then suddenly reached out and touched his face.
Her fingertips were icy cold, yet Gu Zhixing felt as if the places she touched were on fire.
Are you jealous?
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