Chapter 173: What Each Person Wants

“What each person wants is different,” Yin Shi said. “I understand your feelings, but what’s past is past. There’s no need to dwell on it.”

“I… I…” Feng Luoyi choked back a sob. “It all feels like a long dream…”

“At first, I thought I had grasped something.”

“But later, I realized I had grasped nothing.”

“It was like drowning—gasping for air, every moment hoping, ‘Wake up, just wake up, and everything will be fine…’”

“Then Second Brother returned. He said he could make me the principal wife.”

“I knew full well that if I became the principal wife, Sister would have nowhere to go.”

“I knew full well that Shen Lang’s heart belonged to Sister.”

“And yet, I still…”

“I understood everything in my heart, and yet, I still…”

Feng Luoyi buried her face in her hands, softly weeping.

Yin Shi did not interrupt her, letting her speak.

What she was doing now could be called, in some religions, confession. Speaking it aloud made the pain a little lighter—an illusion that the sin had already been atoned for.

But there were moments when humans truly needed this.

Yin Shi no longer needed to pity Feng Luoyi. Because she now had powerful backing, a clear future, and had stepped out of the ranks of the weak.

This was also why Shen Ti could be so cold-hearted toward her in the end.

Sympathy and pity were reserved only for the weak, never for those in power.

As the sister of Marquis Kejing, Feng Luoyi had already begun to enjoy the benefits brought by Feng Yi’s authority. She had entered the ranks of the powerful.

All Yin Shi needed to do was listen patiently.

Sure enough, after Feng Luoyi poured out her heart, the weight on her spirit lightened considerably.

Yin Shi handed her a fresh cup of hot tea. Feng Luoyi wiped her face and murmured her thanks.

She took a sip and set the cup down. “The Shen family…”

Yin Shi replied, “No.”

Feng Luoyi fell silent.

After a long while, she lifted her eyes. “Sister, is there anything I can do for you?”

In truth, there was nothing. But refusal would only make things awkward, and sometimes even breed resentment. Yin Shi said, “I’ve truly done my best in this matter. Please ask your brother not to blame me further.”

“Second Brother, he…”

Feng Luoyi’s head drooped low.

Everyone only saw Feng Yi’s current prominence. Only Feng Luoyi had seen him, as an elder brother, weeping helplessly.

“Actually,” she said, “my third sister has been found.”

“Oh?” Yin Shi was surprised. “I hadn’t heard of this. Was it recent?”

If Marquis Kejing’s sister had been found, it should have been the talk of the capital.

Tears streamed down Feng Luoyi’s face again.

Yin Shi paused. “Did she suffer?”

Feng Luoyi nodded through her sobs. “She… she can no longer return.”

No wonder Feng Yi’s fury had been so uncontrollable back then.

But Yin Shi’s opinion of him did not soften in the slightest. Because if Shen Ti had been in the same position, she believed he would never have acted as Feng Yi did.

Their fundamental natures were different.

“But in truth, with Marquis Kejing’s standing, your sister could still live a comfortable life. Fine clothes and good food would be guaranteed,” Yin Shi said. “What she lacks is the status of a Feng family daughter and Marquis Kejing’s sister.”

“Your suffering these past years also stems from this.”

“Now it’s all over. Free yourself from it. I hope you’ll remember—the Shen family did not mistreat you, Jiyun did not wrong you, and I never bullied you.”

“Yes,” Feng Luoyi said softly. “Looking back now, no one treated me poorly. Even the servants in the Shen family never slighted me.”

“Though Shen Lang and I ultimately parted ways, for me, it was truly a release.”

“Brother has also come to terms with it now. His marriage was arranged with Master Shen’s guidance. He said it was an excellent match, and without Master Shen’s advice, he might never have taken this step.”

The sister of Marquis Zhenwei had been living in widowhood, secluded and withdrawn. Feng Yi had been away from the capital for four or five years, and with no female relatives to socialize on his behalf, how could he have known of her?

Even now that he was prominent, those who sought to arrange matches for him introduced only young, unmarried maidens. Who would think to suggest a widow?

Widows who remarried usually did so because someone actively sought them out. Seeking a widow’s hand would not offend, but suggesting one might.

Yin Shi hadn’t realized Master Shen had played a role in this.

Master Shen was not as unyielding as his son, but his methods were far more flexible and shrewd—qualities Yin Shi had once appreciated in a partner.

“Brother is very grateful,” Feng Luoyi said. “As for my matter with Shen Lang, he has finally let it go. Between our two families, there is still Song’er as a connection. In the future, we can interact as relatives.”

Yin Shi smiled. “That’s wonderful. In truth, if everyone can let go, that’s for the best. As they say, it’s all in the past. Just look forward from now on.”

Feng Luoyi nodded.

Her outpouring had come to an end. Yin Shi hoped she would rise and take her leave.

But Feng Luoyi did not. She lifted her eyes and studied Yin Shi for a long moment.

“Sister,” she said, “what you want—you should tell him. Men think entirely differently from us. If you don’t tell him, he’ll never figure it out on his own.”

Yin Shi smiled faintly. “What do I want?”

Feng Luoyi met her gaze. “What you want is what every woman wants. But most of us have no choice—we must be virtuous, we must tolerate.”

“My mother said that mutual respect in marriage is upheld by a woman’s virtue and tolerance.”

“But I know that Shen Lang’s heart belongs to you. What he feels for you is not mere respect.”

Feng Luoyi had heard Shen Ti’s qin music more than once.

His melodies were a courtship.

Since he was still seeking, it meant he had not yet obtained.

Shen Ti’s looks, lineage, talent, even temperament were beyond reproach. Yin Shi had even married above her station—how could she still not love him?

Feng Luoyi turned and saw her reflection in the mirror, and then she understood.

Yin Shi watched her.

If Feng Luoyi had not endured these years of hardship, might she have become a cheerful woman like Wu Qing?

Who could say? Fate was too unpredictable.

But some things were universally understood by women across time.

Yet men, past and present, remained oblivious.

“You’ve misunderstood,” Yin Shi said with a laugh.

“Jiyun and I—our match was arranged by our parents, mediated by a matchmaker, and sealed with a gentleman’s agreement. I promised to help him take care of you, and I kept my word. I never forgot my original intention.”

“If I must add anything more, then perhaps sibling affection, and occasionally some physical desire.”

“But it’s not what you imagine. Because jealousy first requires love—and I… do not love Shen Jiyun.”

Feng Luoyi was bewildered. “Why? Shen Lang is outstanding among men…”

Yin Shi did not need to think before answering. “He’s too young. I find him charming and delightful, but fondness is not love. A single word’s difference, yet worlds apart.”

Feng Luoyi was even more confused. What did “too young” mean? It was hard to grasp.

But Yin Shi only said, “To be honest, when negotiations between our families broke down and you chose to return to your maiden home, I was a little surprised. I knew you had your obsessions, but as you said, Jiyun is outstanding among men. At his age, no one in the capital surpasses him. You and he…”

They had been each other’s first and only, and they had even borne a child together.

She glossed over this and said, “I admire that you chose the path you wanted.”

Feng Luoyi understood her implication.

“Brother asked me the same later,” she said. “He also wondered how I could let go of Shen Lang.”

Her voice was soft.

“But if you were in my place, you’d understand. In my situation, talk of love and affection was laughable.”

Feng Luoyi took her leave.

Yin Shi saw her to the gate and watched her board the carriage.

“Go on,” she said. “It’s all in the past. Look forward.”

Feng Luoyi lifted the carriage curtain, inclined her head slightly in farewell, then let it drop as the carriage departed.

Kui’er fumed. “What did she come here for?”

Yin Shi only smiled.

She glanced at the sky—bright and clear—and called to He Midui, “Bring the horses out for some exercise.”

Kui’er was also learning to ride, though she only dared mount the ponies, still too timid for the larger horses.

Once learned, riding was a skill hard not to love.

Kui’er had grown especially fond of the little ponies and hurried off to help.

In the Shen household, these horses would have been mere transportation.

Here, they were practically pets.

The men kept the stables spotless, tending to the horses as if they were royalty, their coats glossy and sleek.

After half a year, the ponies had grown considerably, though the men, being heavier, still couldn’t ride them. Only Kui’er and Pu’er did. Yin Shi, being light, could ride them too, but she preferred the grown horses.

Her riding had been criticized by Liu Niang as “elegant but impractical for battle.”

Yin Shi was unrepentant. “Elegant is enough.”

It was just for fun, after all.

With only two grown horses available, Yin Shi never rode far, staying within the open grounds outside the estate.

The outskirts offered vast open spaces. Yin Shi’s residence faced the nearest village from a distance, with plenty of land in between. That winter, they had even set up jumping obstacles for practice.

Once the ponies grew bigger and the men could ride them, they could accompany her on longer rides.

Yin Shi also planned to cultivate a flower bed outside the estate to grow blossoms for essential oils.

The men were already composting to enrich the soil. Once it warmed up a bit more, they would start cuttings.

Though Liu Niang had only one arm, it didn’t hinder her work. Most of the men from respectable families in the capital were of farming stock, well-versed in labor.

As she turned the soil, Liu Niang remarked, “Madam, you live a life of leisure and luxury.”

In late February, Bao Jin came with a message: “Madam Jiang, the Hanlin scholar’s wife, will visit in ten days. The academician and Hanlin Jiang will accompany her.”

Wu Qing was the closest of Yin Shi’s friends, and the earliest she had befriended.

Yin Shi was delighted. “Good. Tell the academician I’ll prepare a menu and sweep the bed in welcome.”

“Wait—don’t misdeliver the message. I’m welcoming Sister Wu.”

“Not him.”

On the day of rest, Shen Ti indeed arrived with Jiang Chen and Wu Qing.

The weather had warmed by then, and sunny days were pleasant outdoors.

The couple toured the estate and gardens, both a little envious. “It’s so spacious.”

The Jiang family naturally owned larger country homes, as did the Wu family.

But those belonged to the households. With parents alive, families did not divide property. Jiang Chen and Wu Qing were merely one branch of their families, and not the eldest.

They did have some private assets, but they dared not flaunt them.

Such was the way of younger generations in great families—the splendor belonged to the clan, while their personal holdings were limited. Jiang Chen, unlike Shen Ti, was not an only child entitled to everything. He had several brothers.

With a large family, Jiang Chen and his wife lived in a modest one-courtyard residence, far smaller than Jingrong Courtyard.

In many families, a residence of Jingrong Courtyard’s stature would never be allotted to juniors.

Unlike Yin Shi now, living alone in a four-courtyard estate with gardens.

And without elders or sisters-in-law around.

Wu Qing sighed. “I thought you were suffering out here in the countryside. Who knew you were living in bliss?”

Yin Shi’s eyes curved in a smile.