Chapter 4 — Better to Lean on Mountains Than a Faithless Heart

Beyond the veil of swirling, white snow, I turned away with icy detachment, never once glancing back at him. In the silence of that moment, I drew a final, indelible line between his path and mine.

Jiang Nan-Xi, fueled by spite, had deliberately shattered my bowl of medicinal brew, laughing with a cruel sense of triumph. "Cousin finds your medicine bitter," she sneered. "Stop pretending to be kind by bringing it here in the future." Shen Yi-An stood by, silent and complicit, offering his tacit indulgence. I complied without a word, decisively severing the ties that brought my care to his quarters.

Nan-Xi later incinerated the silk sachet containing the emergency elixirs I had labored over, sneering, "Cousin adores vibrant things. How dare you gift him such filthy, common trinkets?" Again, Shen Yi-An remained mute, a silent patron of her insolence. I followed his lead, eventually dismantling my own apothecary stove and casting it into the shadows of neglect.

Nan-Xi was still not satisfied. On my very birthday, she dragged Shen Yi-An out to admire the moonlight amidst the falling snow. That night, the gale intensified. Deprived of the medicine he had grown accustomed to, his body succumbed to the freezing cold, and he was eventually carried back to the manor like a broken doll. The servants scrambled in a panic to seek my aid, but I feigned a deep slumber, refusing to unbar my door.

As the imperial physicians scurried about in frantic diagnosis, the slander Nan-Xi had spread—that I used the weight of past debts to trap Shen Yi-An—was finally “proven” by her deceit. Shen Yi-An waited for me to offer an explanation. If those physicians had been capable of diagnosing the Heavenly Secret poison years ago, I never would have needed to call my master out of seclusion. If they could have saved him, it would never have fallen to a woman like me to exhaust my own vitality keeping him anchored to life for three years. If they chose to believe in their court doctors, so be it. My master bid me save him, and I did; that is not a betrayal of my oath. From this day forward, he must pray for his own salvation.

The Princess, well aware of the austerity of my life within the manor and acting on the requests of the young General, often came to visit. She arrived bearing letters of concern and gifts she had prepared with her own hands—sometimes a singular fallen leaf, other times a rare gemstone or a piece of exquisite, soft fur. These tokens, small yet heavy with genuine affection, were the treasures I kept carefully tucked away in my chest.

One day, the Princess confided that the Noble Consort’s pregnancy was fraught with peril, and the royal physicians feared a disastrous labor. At that moment, I saw the truth clearly: the opportunity to officially clear my name of the label "malicious healer" had arrived. I begged the Princess to allow me to enter the palace. I oversaw the Consort’s health, guided her through labor, and acted as midwife until both mother and child were safe and whole, returning to the Marquis’s estate only when my strength was fully spent.

Everyone whispered that I had begged the Noble Consort to grant a royal decree of marriage. Even the Shen clan believed it, their faces a colorful array of shock and resentment. But arriving faster than the imperial decree was a reward that forced a choice. The first was a blade so sharp it could slice through iron like silk—the very treasure that General Yun Jing-Ting cherished above all else. The second was the dragon-sinew earth, a miracle medicine worth a thousand gold—the exact remedy Shen Yi-An desperately required.

This was the final reward bestowed upon me by the Consort, and the final momentous choice I would ever grant him. I chose the sword without a second’s hesitation, extinguishing the smug satisfaction in Shen Yi-An’s eyes instantly. For the first time, he tasted the bitterness of cold indifference. He blocked my path in the corridor, pouring out the resentment festering in his heart. As I looked at his face—a face I had once known down to every familiar line—I realized how utterly like strangers we had become.

I replied, each word measured and cold: "I have thought long and hard. Until this very day, I have never once made things difficult for your cousin, nor have I ever owed a debt to anyone in this manor. Shen Yi-An, from beginning to end, I have never owed you a thing."

I stepped back, gripping the sword tightly to my chest, and brushed past him like a stranger. The freezing wind whipped the ribbon from my hair. Shen Yi-An instinctively reached out to stop me, but my pace was swift; the silk ribbon brushed against his fingertips, leaving him with nothing but a cold, empty grasp.

"Stop bickering with Nan-Xi!" he called out, his voice sharp with irritation. "You will be her sister-in-law soon; just teach her the proper etiquette! You have already begged for a royal marriage decree; who is this performance for?"

I stopped and turned to look at him, my words dripping with icy mockery. "It is true that I petitioned for a royal marriage, but the person I wish to wed has never, from start to finish, been you."

Shen Yi-An stood frozen, his face turning the color of charcoal. "Say that again!"

Before I could answer, Jiang Nan-Xi burst forth from the shadows. "Cousin!" Ignoring my presence, she clung to Shen Yi-An’s arm, acting the spoiled child. "Among the gifts from the palace, there is a bridal gown embroidered by the finest hand in the realm. You know my mother passed long ago; no one taught me the needle arts. If I am to marry, I fear being laughed at. Could you grant it to me?"

Nan-Xi’s eyes glistened with tears, overflowing with entreaty and guile. Shen Yi-An furrowed his brows and turned to me. "Tu-Yi, give the gown to Nan-Xi. I will pretend today’s conversation never happened."

In the past, when he sought to seize my quarters or my servants, Shen Yi-An at least maintained a facade of courtesy, using soft words. Today, however, he was tyrannical and demanding, showing no regard for my dignity. Perhaps it was my own past concessions that had led him to believe he could casually snatch even the gifts bestowed upon me by the palace.

This time, I would yield no more. A cold smile curled my lips as I retorted, "If you do not know, then learn. Why resort to robbing others? If you have no gown, you reach for mine—if you have no mother to send you off, do you intend to steal someone else's mother to stage a touching scene? The young Marquis has always valued propriety; surely you know that seizing royal gifts is a capital offense? You may move into her quarters immediately if you wish; I shall return to the palace and request the Consort to preside over this injustice!"

Shen Yi-An seemed stunned by my sharp refusal. His expression darkened further. Jiang Nan-Xi’s eyes brimmed with tears as she clutched his sleeve, her voice choked with feigned grievance. "If she does not wish to, then forget it. It was my own foolishness, thinking that anything brought into the Marquis’s house belonged to the house. I never expected the sister-in-law and the cousin to be so calculatingly distinct. Very well, she is anxious to be married and even sought a royal decree to force your hand. I suppose this gown was intended for her marriage into the Shen family; I shall yield it to her."

I laughed aloud. "My thanks, Miss Jiang, for your 'compassion' in yielding a reward that was rightfully mine from the start."

With that single sentence, the mask of her false virtue shattered completely.