Chapter 397: Chapter 317: Are You Widowed for the Sake of the Chen Surname? (Already evened out at 2000)
Lin Wanxiao’s face, which had looked gaunt for so long, visibly alternated between pale and green.
Her thin shoulders trembled slightly, the frailty of her sickly beauty on full display. She remained silent, unable to answer Empress Dowager’s question.
The Empress Dowager asked flatly, "How much longer will you dwell on it?"
The cold wind surged from behind, and Lin Wanxiao shivered. She lowered her head even further, nearly touching the ground:
"In replying to Your Majesty, this humble woman truly cannot answer."
A hint of appreciation surfaced in the Empress Dowager’s eyes.
Compared to Min Ming, who had consistently failed to comprehend anything after repeated instructions, Lin Wanxiao showed a certain resilience beneath her delicate facade. With a bit of grooming, she might prove to be a useful scabbard.
And scabbards exist solely to contain blades.
"What’s so difficult about answering? It’s just a name," the sharp voice from within Jingren Palace descended upon Lin Wanxiao, striking her like a blow. "Moreover, it’s merely two characters. With the flick of your tongue, can’t you spit it out?"
The young lady of the Lin Family quivered with each syllable spoken.
From the shadows, the Empress Dowager stared at her and asked coolly:
"Don’t tell me... you’ve dreamt of this man so many times that you’re incapable of enduring loneliness any longer?"
Lin Wanxiao’s head snapped up abruptly, cold sweat trailing down her temple. Even in the presence of the imperial court, a trace of anger pierced through as she said:
"Your Majesty, this humble woman is not someone who would violate propriety."
"But have you dreamed of Lin Yan?"
"...I..."
Lin Wanxiao was rendered speechless in that instant. Her frail form stiffened in the biting cold.
After a long silence, she finally forced out her words with great difficulty:
"I dreamt of him... because I wish for his death."
"Oh, I thought you were mourning him as a widow..." The Empress Dowager chuckled faintly.
Lin Wanxiao responded with silence. In the Cui household, few cared about her status or plight. She was like a wandering ghost haunting the courtyard. Lin Yan had long since been forgotten by others, and gradually, she, too, was forgetting. Yet the recurring nightmares seemed to carve him into her very bones.
Thinking about it now, being widowed for him did not seem wrong... But Lin Wanxiao dared not, was unwilling to, delve deeper into that thought—it was far too sordid.
From her vantage at Jingren Palace, the Emperor’s mother curled her lips into a frosty smile and said slowly:
"You wish intensely for that man’s demise, but what good is it? He stubbornly refuses to die and appears again and again in your nightmares. By that logic, you could be considered his widow, having no other man beside you, only him."
Lin Wanxiao shook uncontrollably as the words struck her like vicious palpitations.
Her husband was dead, and a woman was duty-bound to remain a widow. Even though there had never been romantic affection—no shared lovebirds’ devotion—between her and Lin Yan, she still adhered to the moral teachings outlined in the *Female Precepts*. Yet no matter how she rationalized it, the repeated nightmares—dreams of that man—were no different than mourning Chen of the hundred households as a widow.
Suddenly, her very soul felt filthy to her.
She was startled, frightened, as if haunted by the echoing voices of ghosts, like countless women who had lived their lives in widowhood.
Cold sweat broke out on Lin Wanxiao’s pale neck. Without thinking, she murmured:
"As long as he dies... I won’t dream of him again..."
"You really want him dead?"
Lin Wanxiao struggled to answer: "...I do."
"Wanting someone dead sounds simple enough; doing it isn’t hard either. Just put in some effort, and he’ll die right before you. So all these years, you’ve wanted to kill him, but you haven’t. Do you truly want him dead, Lin Wanxiao? If so, you’d best act quickly; otherwise, you never will."
As the Empress Dowager’s words fell, Lin Wanxiao’s trembling intensified, and a faint flush seeped into her long-pale face.
Her lips moved slightly.
Before she could utter a sound, the Empress Dowager tipped her finger with a smirk and said:
"The most dangerous one to guard against... is the person at your pillow."
In an instant, Lin Wanxiao froze as though her soul had vanished.
What did she mean?
This meaning...
This meaning!
Lin Wanxiao’s mind buzzed; her entire being went limp. Her chest rose and fell as if she could hardly breathe.
Within Jingren Palace, the Empress Dowager gazed down at her, lips still curled in a cold smile.
.........
Several days later, in the Cui household.
As the New Year approached, the maid Xiuhe had been busy cleaning the courtyard alongside Lin Wanxiao for quite some time. Though they called it cleaning, there wasn’t much to tidy. Ever since Lin Wanxiao’s return from the palace, she had kept herself cloistered, never leaving even when the madams from the other two branches of the family invited her; she still chose to remain secluded in her courtyard.
Although no one was sure what the two madams were scheming, at least for now they hadn’t succeeded. To curry favor with Lin Wanxiao, the steward had even allocated additional Silver to their courtyard and sent two older women to help out, occasionally bringing gossip about the household.
It was said that Cui Kai from the third branch had taken to gambling. At first, he won quite a bit, splurging on gifts such as new clothes for his wife. The ignorant womenfolk even celebrated his ’capabilities.’ But soon, his fortunes turned. Small losses turned into big losses, and though he occasionally had victories, the end result was a continuous cycle of gains and greater losses. Not only did he squander all the family’s savings, but he also began selling off calligraphy and artwork, and eventually even pawned his marriage contract as collateral with the gambling den.
As a result, the household had been thrown into uproar. Cui Kai’s wife spent her days weeping and eventually took her grievances to the head of the eldest branch, asking Cui Bu to mediate.
However, with the New Year drawing near, Cui Bu, a Ministry of Personnel doctor, had been overwhelmed with court affairs. Upon returning home to this mess, his frustration only deepened. In the end, he meted out twenty blows here, fifty there, temporarily patched things up, and called it resolved.
Just listening to all this amused Xiuhe. After all, it’s hard not to gloat at the misfortunes of those who had coldly disregarded her young mistress. However, when Xiuhe recounted the matter for Lin Wanxiao, the latter merely inquired absent-mindedly, then responded with an indifferent ’Oh.’
The soft sunlight filtered through the papered windows, falling across the tea table in the side chamber. Lin Wanxiao bowed her head, working on her embroidery under the dim light, stitching peony blossoms into silk. A faint fragrance drifted from the doors and windows, but her willow-leaf eyebrows seemed inexplicably gloomy.
Day and night, she toiled over her embroidery. The pile of finished silks in her room had grown into a small mountain, yet she neither handed them to the servants to fashion into garments, nor sold them to earn a penny.
"Madam, stop stitching. Why not go out for a walk?"
Opening the door and seeing Lin Wanxiao immersed in embroidery, Xiuhe softly suggested.
Lin Wanxiao turned her face slightly, her hands not stopping their work. In her grasp was a half-finished crimson peony. Her face, pale and emaciated, was so translucent her thin blue veins were visible.
Since entering widowhood, Lin Wanxiao’s complexion had visibly worsened by the day.
What’s more, Xiuhe had keenly observed that her mistress’s eyes had diminished in brightness, no longer as lively as before.
"Go out for a walk," Xiuhe urged again.
Lin Wanxiao hesitated for a moment before replying, "There’s nowhere worth going."
Seeing her like this, Xiuhe felt a pang of sorrow.
In recent days, the mistress had been consumed by a listlessness far removed from her former self. Even her favorite *Peony Pavilion* no longer interested her, nor did *The West Chamber*, *Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai,* or similar tales.
Every day was spent like this—crushed by endless embroidery, her body slowly wasting away, as if willingly surrendering her years to oblivion.
But lately, Xiuhe did notice her mistress exhibiting some subtle changes.
Ever since her visit to the palace, though she had returned without saying much, Lin Wanxiao seemed to have shed some of her lifelessness. Alongside her embroidery, her nightmares had increased in frequency.
And on nights when she awoke from a nightmare, Lin Wanxiao seemed almost invigorated. She would wake with flushed cheeks, then pace around the courtyard, muttering angry curses at someone for a long time.
Xiuhe had no idea who it was her mistress cursed at. She had asked, but Lin Wanxiao refused to say.
Once, using the opportunity to coax her mistress into taking a walk outside, Xiuhe had asked:
"Madam, why do you only scold him here?"
Lin Wanxiao’s face turned slightly ashen before she bitterly replied:
"Because I dare not confront him directly."
If it were possible, Xiuhe thought, she would seek out this man and bring him before Lin Wanxiao. At the very least, it might awaken her mistress from her torpor.
But, of course, as just a maid, Xiuhe had neither the power nor the means to locate him. And even if she did, what would come of it?
Beyond this strange habit, the mistress had returned from the palace with a jar of wine.
It was an imperial gift from the Empress Dowager, and Xiuhe dared not touch it, observing only from afar. She had asked Lin Wanxiao about its name.
The wine was called Forgetting Woes.
The mistress had said the wine could banish many, many griefs, as the Empress Dowager herself had told her...
Xiuhe couldn’t understand why the Empress Dowager would bestow such wine upon her mistress.
As Xiuhe continued to urge Lin Wanxiao to leave the courtyard for a brief stroll, footsteps echoed outside.
Xiuhe turned to greet the visitor—it was the First Madam.
Accompanied by her maid, Luo Shi approached with measured steps. The First Madam’s expression was adorned by a polished smile and an aura of status.
As protocol demanded, Lin Wanxiao should have risen to welcome her sister-in-law. Yet she remained seated like a block of wood, casting only a brief glance before dropping her gaze and refusing to look again.
Xiuhe felt awkward, offering an apologetic smile. However, Luo Shi’s demeanor, though tinged with mild displeasure, remained composed as she lingered by the threshold, cleared her throat, and said:
"In a few days, our household will host a poetry gathering. Invitations have already been sent to many officials. Several distinguished scholars and gentlemen will attend. If little sister is inclined, perhaps you might grace us with your presence."
Only after a long silence did Lin Wanxiao’s voice respond:
"Thank you for your kindness, First Madam, but as a widow, it would be improper for me to show my face in public."
Luo Shi, unsurprised, had long anticipated such an answer and smoothly countered:
"If little sister were to wear a veil, no one would witness your true countenance. It wouldn’t be considered improper. Many households observe this practice—otherwise, wouldn’t all widows suffocate in isolation?"
Lin Wanxiao gave no reply, only shaking her head faintly as if her decision was firm.
Luo Shi paused for a moment, then added with calculated nonchalance:
"If that’s your choice, little sister, I won’t press further. However, one of the invitations was sent to the Chen household. That Chen Qianhu, whose fame has risen so meteorically of late... He’s certain to attend."
Lin Wanxiao’s head jerked sharply, the needle and thread in her hand falling to the ground with a crisp sound.
"Who?!"
It was him...
He was coming?