After morning exercises on the fifth day, Lin Ting sat on a stone bench in the garden drinking water while Shen Yueji stood beside her wiping away sweat. Her phone vibrated. A short message from Sheng Zeyun: From now on, let my wife's wishes take priority in matters inside the villa. If she's willing to go out, encourage her. You don't need to ask me first.
Shen Yueji read it, slipped her phone into her pocket, and glanced at Lin Ting, who was looking down as she screwed the cap onto her bottle.
For no particular reason, she found it strange.
Over the past two weeks, Sheng Zeyun had come home every night. Sometimes early, sometimes late, but he had never stayed out overnight. When they happened to meet over dinner, he would put food on Lin Ting's plate and ask what she had painted or whether she was tired. His tone was caring. Lin Ting answered too, not dismissively, but hardly warmly.
They sat at opposite ends of the dining table, its entire length between them, speaking with the polite distance of roommates.
Was this just how rich people ate? Shen Yueji didn't understand, but she respected it.
Yet if they were on bad terms, why had Sheng Zeyun specifically hired a female bodyguard to keep her company? He knew she slept poorly. He knew she didn't like going out. He had even made a point of telling Shen Yueji to encourage her to get outside.
Standing in the morning breeze, Shen Yueji watched Lin Ting set down the empty bottle and head back into the house, her figure as slight as ever.
Forget it. If she couldn't work it out, she could leave it for now. The intricacies of someone else's marriage weren't something she could unravel simply by thinking about them. There had to be things she didn't know.
That night, Shen Yueji did not sleep peacefully.
The villa suddenly stirred in the middle of the night. Soft footsteps and hushed conversation came from the corridor. Alert by habit, she opened her eyes almost at the first unfamiliar sound. She dressed, threw on a jacket, and went out to find Zhao at the stairs, speaking to the family doctor with a deep frown.
Shen Yueji hurried over. “Zhao, what's happened?”
Zhao turned and seemed relieved to see her. “Madam woke up in the night. She's not doing well. Go upstairs and keep her company.”
Shen Yueji asked nothing further and headed upstairs. Before leaving, she glanced at Mr. Sheng on the sofa. The doctor was dressing a wound.
Well, well. Marital conflict? Or an indoor brawl?
A single wall lamp lit the second-floor corridor with a dim yellow glow. Lin Ting's door was ajar. Shen Yueji pushed it open and scanned the room. The bed was empty. Only when she looked lower did she spot Lin Ting in the corner between the foot of the bed and the wardrobe.
Barefoot and wearing only a thin nightdress, Lin Ting crouched with hunched shoulders and both arms around her knees, her face buried in the crook of her arm. At the sound of someone entering, she raised her head. Her lashes were wet, tears still clung to her cheeks, and her eyes were rimmed red. Her lips pressed together as her breath came in broken little catches.
“Madam?” Shen Yueji approached, keeping her voice very soft.
Lin Ting seemed not to hear. Her gaze passed through her to some empty point beyond, then she lowered her head and buried her face in her knees again.
Shen Yueji stood still for two seconds and asked no more.
She went closer, crouched down, and reached out, gently and slowly gathering Lin Ting into her arms.
Lin Ting stiffened for a moment. Her sharp shoulder blades pressed against Shen Yueji's forearm, slightly cold.
Gradually, she relaxed into the embrace, her rapid breathing easing into a steadier rhythm.
After a long while, expecting some question, Lin Ting asked, “Aren't you curious?”
Shen Yueji: ...Curious, yes. But how was she supposed to ask? Besides, if she learned the inside story of a wealthy couple's midnight dispute involving weapons, would she still be allowed to leave in one piece?
Before Shen Yueji could respond, Lin Ting began telling her story on her own.
Shen Yueji listened to the end without offering any judgment.
She kept holding her until Lin Ting's breathing had settled completely, then gently helped her into bed, tucked her in, switched off the night-light, and slipped out.
Once she lay down, she kept turning over the fragmented words Lin Ting had spoken.
From Lin Ting's perspective, the marriage was an exchange of interests engineered by two families. She did not like Sheng Zeyun, and Sheng Zeyun did not like her. They were sharing a life; keeping up appearances was enough.
Shen Yueji could hear the revulsion in her voice. It wasn't directed at any one person, but at the very fact of having her life “arranged.” From childhood onward, what she studied, whom she befriended, whom she married—every move was made on someone else's chessboard. She didn't even have the right to shift one square.
Shen Yueji did not really understand the logic of marriages between wealthy families. Did binding together two people who didn't like each other somehow make their interests more secure?
And given tonight's events, what if something really happened?
Shen Yueji didn't understand, but she was willing to learn. So she downloaded a fiction app and searched for wealthy-family romances.
The next morning, Shen Yueji got up at six as usual.
After her run and warm-up, Lin Ting had still not appeared. Shen Yueji stood on the lawn for a while, and a bold idea took shape.
She wiped away her sweat, went upstairs, stood outside Lin Ting's room, and knocked.
“Madam? Time to get up and run. If you don't get up soon, you'll miss breakfast.”
“Madam, are you in there? Are you awake?”
Shen Yueji pressed her ear to the door. She could faintly hear the rustle of bedding.
She cleared her throat. “Come on, Madam, get up! The sun's already on your pillow! It's a beautiful day. It'd be a shame not to run!”
Silence held for a few seconds. Then Lin Ting's muffled, slightly angry voice came through the door. “...You're so noisy.”
Shen Yueji grinned and kept knocking. “You can go back to sleep after the run. Come on, Madam!”
After several more minutes of pestering, the lock finally clicked. Lin Ting stood in the doorway in rumpled sleepwear, her hair a mess and her eyes still swollen, her whole expression saying, Leave me alone. Shen Yueji pretended not to notice, stepped aside, and extended a hand to usher her out.
Lin Ting glared at her but went back inside to change before coming downstairs.
That morning, she jogged more slowly than usual and her steps were a little listless, but she completed the entire route.
As she stood in the garden, sweaty and catching her breath, she rather regretted telling Shen Yueji so much the night before.
She had never told anyone those things. She didn't know why they had all come pouring out. Yet the sight of Shen Yueji's utterly untroubled face beside her made irritation flare again. How could she act as though nothing had happened? It was as if she hadn't taken any of last night to heart.
Of course Shen Yueji had taken it to heart. But she felt that what Lin Ting needed most was neither sympathy nor analysis. First, she needed to get her body moving.
She had seen too many people wear themselves down from within. The longer they stayed stuck in place, the harder it became to think their way out.
The first step out of that spiral was to bring their limbs back to life.
After the run, Shen Yueji was in excellent spirits. She took a refreshing shower, rubbed her hands together as she headed for the kitchen, and plopped into a seat to wait for breakfast.
Auntie Zhang came out carrying a tray and placed a plate before her. On it sat one large steamed bun made with white flour.
Shen Yueji froze and looked up. Auntie Zhang wore a gentle, proper smile. “Madam's instructions. She says you were too noisy this morning. Two buns and one fried dough stick deducted. No soy milk either.”
Shen Yueji turned toward the dining-room entrance. Lin Ting took a leisurely sip from a cup of hot milk, set it down, and tried to hold back the upward curve at the corner of her mouth.
Shen Yueji looked down at the lonely bun, then up at Lin Ting. Her lips moved. In the end, all she managed was, “...Madam, I can finish three buns.”
Lin Ting set down her cup. “Even if you can, you're not getting them.”
A long, drawn-out wail rose from the direction of the kitchen.
Eyes lowered over her milk, Lin Ting could no longer suppress her smile.