Chapter 56: The Weight of the Times

The limitations of the era—so palpable, they crashed down like a wave.

Yin Zhi stared at Shen Ti's silhouette, darkened against the light. She couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine it: stern, cold, scrutinizing.

Because she knew too much about matters between men and women, he had begun to question her chastity.

Even in a marriage based on agreement, she was expected to remain pure.

He could refuse to consummate the marriage—but she couldn’t lack chastity.

Even a contractual wife had to be virtuous.

Yin Zhi confronted Shen Ti’s darkened figure in the gloom.

Suddenly, she moved, leaned forward, and reached out—her hand touched his shoulder, slid down under his arm, tugging at his clothing tie.

Shen Ti immediately grabbed her wrist.

“Give me your clothes,” Yin Zhi said. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I just need your clothes.”

Shen Ti released her hand without resistance and cooperated as she pulled off his inner robe.

Though the process was brief and the bed curtain dim, they were so close, breaths mingling. Stray strands of her hair brushed against his cheek.

He was a man. She, a woman.

And in that moment, that difference had never felt more vivid.

Shen Ti's body went taut.

Thankfully, Yin Zhi took the robe and retreated.

In the dark, he saw her turn away from him.

He heard the rustling of clothing. Realizing what she was doing, he quickly turned his head.

Then he heard her draw a sharp breath—of pain.

“For you.”

Her voice came with the sound of something thrown. A garment hit him in the chest with a soft thud, even striking his chin.

Shen Ti turned his head slightly to avoid it.

By the time he had fumbled for the robe, Yin Zhi had already redressed herself and was crawling off the bed. In the darkness and haste, she bumped into his shoulder.

He watched as she slipped on her shoes, lifted the curtain, and left the bed. Soon after, she returned, holding a dim lantern.

To avoid alerting the maids on night duty in the adjoining room, she didn’t remove the lampshade until she was back under the bed curtains. The dim light instantly became bright.

“Take a look,” she said.

Shen Ti looked down.

The inner robe she had returned was stained with fresh blood.

“Here.” Yin Zhi extended her hand. “Look carefully.”

She showed him both sides of her hands, palm and back, then held the lamp in one hand to show the other.

No wounds. Though her fingertips were slightly bloodstained, there were no cuts.

She hadn't faked it.

Unlike on their wedding night, when a small knife had cut her finger for show—this was real. The blood on the robe was proof of her virginity.

In front of him, she had proven herself.

“Satisfied now?” she asked.

Shen Ti looked up.

She held the lamp, light illuminating her face—hair messy, collar loosened.

Yet stunning.

He felt a sudden dryness in his throat.

He swallowed, suppressing his restlessness, and said hoarsely, “It was my overthinking. Forgive me, sister.”

A boy of fair skin—whatever exercise he usually did, it had left him leanly muscled. Still in his youth, bare-chested, handsome. Though he tried to restrain himself, there was desire in his eyes and voice.

Just yesterday, he was still an innocent boy who could sleep beside her peacefully.

Now he had changed.

Truly, once a man has experienced desire, he's never the same.

Yin Zhi looked at him and smiled faintly, covered the lantern again, and stepped off the bed.

What did that smile mean?

What did that look in her eyes mean?

Shen Ti, for the first time, felt pressure from a woman—not from her status, age, or identity, but from a depth of knowing that pierced through everything.

It made him feel… exposed.

He pressed his lips together, got out of bed, and put on his shoes.

Yin Zhi replaced the lamp on the table, turned back, and brushed past him.

He stepped aside this time and avoided bumping into her again.

His gaze followed the curve of her jaw. But she didn’t look at him—just went straight back to bed.

She lay down. From within the curtain, he could hear her movements.

He suspected she was back in bed just as he opened a cabinet to get fresh clothing.

Eventually, Shen Ti returned, now changed into clean robes, and lay back down.

Yin Zhi didn’t look, but she knew.

“Take care of that robe tomorrow,” she said. “It’ll be easier for you than for me.”

The inner residence was crawling with maids. Even if dismissed, they lingered in the side room, always listening. Privacy was a luxury.

That’s why you cultivated confidantes—only with loyal people could you conceal the truth from others and protect secrets.

But even Kui'er, her closest maid, had been kept in the dark about her fake marriage with Shen Ti.

It was too consequential. The fewer who knew, the better.

Shen Ti answered with a simple “mm,” agreeing.

After a while, he asked, “Are you angry?”

Yin Zhi sounded lazy. “No.”

She had always known this day would come—that he would, one day, try to verify her chastity. He was just too young before to consider it.

She had only misjudged how quickly he'd mature.

Now, no longer a virgin, he had turned from boy to man overnight.

Suddenly, she understood the sense of loss felt by mothers who realize their once-sweet sons now smoke and curse behind their backs.

It was a little sad.

And funny.

“What’s so funny, sister?” Shen Ti suddenly asked.

Wait—had she laughed out loud?

She answered truthfully, “You.”

He turned to look at her. In the dim light, only her profile could be seen—a delicate nose bridge, lovely lips.

“Tell me,” he turned back, staring at the dark ceiling, just like her.

“I thought someone like you, a brilliant scholar, would be different from the common lot,” she said. “You know, those men who grovel outside but come home to shout and hit their wives.”

“I would never hit you. Ever,” Shen Ti said.

“But you're just as narrow-minded. You assume so many things about women.”

“That we are accessories, weak, or ignorant.”

“Because I’m a woman, you assume I can’t or shouldn’t understand certain things. If I do, you find it suspicious.”

“That a top scholar of the dynasty is this narrow-minded—how laughable.”

Shen Ti responded, “We don’t let women read such things to preserve their temperament. Men go out to establish households, shoulder responsibility. Women stay in the inner quarters, guarding chastity and lineage.”

Yin Zhi seemed to laugh again in the dark.

“If a man needs to rely on regulating women to protect his bloodline, then he’s incompetent.”

“And why should the bloodline of incompetents be preserved? Just to pass down that incompetence through generations?”

“Look at lions in the wild—they protect their bloodline through battle. They’ll kill the cubs of other males, even cull their own weak offspring. No lion guards its lineage by locking up lionesses in caves.”

There was something fierce, almost brutal in her words—wholly unfitting for a woman of the inner chambers.

But Shen Ti was no ordinary man. He was among the best.

Other scholars might need years of study to earn government posts. Shen Ti had leapt past all of it in one go.

He thought over her words—and surprisingly, agreed. “You make a good point.”

Yin Zhi turned to face him. “I underestimated you. You’re a tanhua, after all. I take back what I said.”

Shen Ti glanced at her—though he couldn’t see much, he could feel her mood improve after his acknowledgment.

“Not angry anymore?” he asked.

“I wasn’t angry to begin with. Why stoop to your level?”

Fair enough.

Shen Ti asked, “Then can I ask—how did you come across The Grand Ode of Yin-Yang Union and Ecstasy?”

Even if he agreed she could be knowledgeable, that was truly too much!

The bed shook—she was laughing again.

“Third Brother,” she said, “he and the eldest son from the fifth branch didn’t realize I was resting under the fake mountain. Those two idiots were up there, whispering, trying to barter for the book. One of them dropped it by accident—and it landed right in front of me.”

“I saw the title and knew it wasn’t anything wholesome.”

“When they ran down in a panic, I’d already vanished.”

“They probably saw my back, but with so many girls in the household, they couldn’t tell who it was. For days, they were eyeing every sister suspiciously.”

She chuckled again. “They even asked your third sister if she’d found anything, completely baffling her. But they never suspected me. You know why?”

Before he could guess, she answered: “Because I’m known as the most proper and prim of all the sisters. They’d never imagine it was me.”

Those foolish brothers—letting something like that fall into a sister’s hands. Shen Ti was mortified.

“If you were really that proper…” he scoffed—no need to finish the sentence, they both knew the truth.

But then something occurred to him. He turned to ask, “Am I… the only person who knows the real you?”

Yin Zhi's eyes flickered.

“Yes,” she admitted. She rolled over, burying half her face in the pillow. Her voice was soft. “We’re comrades on the same front. I have no need to hide from you.”

More like, she couldn’t hide.

Sharing a bed made constant pretense exhausting.

In truth, having someone who knew the real her and still stood by her side—made life easier.

That’s why she confided so much in Shen Ti.

“Shen Ti,” she called him by name, not courtesy title, “I’ll keep our agreement. I’ll take care of Feng Luoyi. Please keep your end as well.”

And what was his end of the bargain?

—She would care for Feng Luoyi. He would safeguard the rest of her life.

There was no other way. If this world weren’t split into inner and outer chambers, she could fend for herself. But men had built walls that women couldn’t cross. Some burdens needed male shoulders.

“Shen Ti,” she said softly, “I left home and came all this way. From now on, you’re the closest family I have.”

And still… she didn’t want to be his real wife, did she?

Staring up at the dark ceiling, Shen Ti responded, “Alright.”

He knew she was facing him—watching him.

He didn’t dare turn. Too close.

He still remembered the dryness in his throat from earlier.

A gentleman does not act improperly in the dark.

This was the dark.

He had made her a promise with a solemn handshake. He would honor it.

Shen Ti closed his eyes. “Sleep.”

“Mm,” Yin Zhi responded, turning over.

But moments later, she spoke again.

“Feng Luoyi… she’s been through a lot. Her heart must be wounded. It will take real love and care to heal. Be patient with her.”

Shen Ti said, “I will.”

They spoke no more, ready to sleep.

But Yin Zhi didn’t close her eyes. She stared at the canopy.

This morning, when Feng Luoyi offered her tea, she had meant to say a few kind, comforting words.

But didn’t.

Why?

Because when the girl raised her head, deep in her eyes was… resentment.

A long time passed.

Then Shen Ti asked, “Why haven’t you closed your eyes yet?”

Why are you watching me?

Yin Zhi closed her eyes. “They’re closed now.”

“Sleep.”

“Mm.”