Against the Current - Chapter 249
Chapter 249 - The Study (Part 1)
With Xianglan scooped up securely in his arms, Lin Jinlou strode out the door. Curled up inside her quilt, Xianglan felt waves of throbbing pain in her head, misery churning in her belly, and a burning sting across her face. Completely sapped of strength and feeling utterly limp, she simply lowered her head and let Lin Jinlou carry her off.
They encountered hardly anyone along the way. The sedan chair was waiting just outside the second set of gates; Lin Jinlou placed Xianglan inside, instructed Xiaoquan to bring along a pot of sweet-osmanthus soup to serve her on the way, and then took the reins and mounted his horse in a single fluid motion.
Initially, when Guiyuan saw Xianglan carried out wrapped up like a silkworm cocoon by Lin Jinlou, he was so startled that he did not dare look at her face. He cautiously glanced over at Lin Jinlou instead, only to notice several bloody scratches along his left cheek—clearly the handiwork of fingernails. Shocked, Guiyuan quickly averted his eyes and never dared to stare at his master's face again.
At that moment, Xiaoquan lifted the sedan curtain, beckoned, and called out, "Little Guiyuan, come here."
Hearing this, Guiyuan scurried over with a eager trot, his face plastered with a broad smile as he asked, "Does Sister Xiaoquan have any instructions?" He then lowered his voice to ask, "What on earth happened to our lady? Is she sick?" As he spoke, he cast a sideways glance toward Lin Jinlou and exchanged a knowing look with Xiaoquan.
Xiaoquan rolled her eyes. "Ask fewer questions about things that are none of your business." With that, she passed out a bundle and shoved it right into Guiyuan's hands. "Take this. It's some dirty clothes with a bit of an odor, and I'm afraid it might make the lady dizzy if she smells it. Give it back to me when we get back to the manor."
Guiyuan accepted the bundle with a rueful grimace. Xiaoquan chuckled softly, pulled out four pastries resting on a handkerchief, and handed them over. "Take these, they're still warm. When we get home, I'll have the lady reward you." She dropped the curtain immediately after.
Seeing that Xiaoquan refused to talk and noticing her slightly reddened eyes—a clear sign she had been crying not long ago—Guiyuan dared not ask any further questions. He simply hugged the bundle of clothes and followed at a safe distance in the rear, taking care not to cross the masters while they were in a foul mood.
Xianglan remained wretchedly uncomfortable the entire journey. Xiaoquan poured out the sweet-osmanthus soup from the flask to help sober her up, and then used a hairpin to press several acupoints on her body, which finally made Xianglan feel a bit better. By the time they returned to the Lin Manor, Xianglan was already half-conscious. In her haze, someone picked her up and laid her down on a bed. The pillows and bedding instantly struck her nose with a crisp scent of peppermint and borneol—a fragrance entirely different from the soft, sweet floral aroma of her own bed. She stirred uncomfortably, her hand brushing against a round bolster, which she instinctively pulled into her arms, curling her body into a tight ball. As her swollen, burning cheek rubbed against the pillow, a sharp twinge of pain wrung an involuntary gasp from her lips, and she whimpered in a tiny, aggrieved voice, "Mother, it hurts..." A single tear rolled down the corner of her eye.
A moment later, someone gently wiped the tear from her eye and tucked another blanket over her. A little while later, a calloused fingertip applied medicinal ointment to her face, rubbing in a way that only made her skin sting more; she shook her head, but could not evade it. An abrasive, ill-tempered voice barked, "Be still! What are you thrashing around for?" Once things quieted down, she clutched the pillow tightly and drifted into a heavy, deep sleep.
She had no idea how long she slept, but she eventually woke up parched with thirst, vague murmurs drifting into her ears from nearby.
"...Did that old codger Zhao Jin really submit a memorial like that? Ha! He certainly has a lot of nerve. The Emperor's favor over recent years has gone straight to his head, making him think he's untouchable. The succession to the Eastern Palace concerns the very foundation of the state, and His Majesty has always been headstrong—how could he ever tolerate outsiders meddling and pointing fingers?" The voice belonged to Lin Jinlou, its tone carrying its habitual languid arrogance.
"You used to be Zhao Jin's grandson-in-law, you know. Calling him an 'old codger' left and right isn't very respectful," Yuan Shaoren remarked with a soft chuckle, earning a dismissive snort from Lin Jinlou. Yuan Shaoren continued, "Zhao Jin is the foremost scholar of the current dynasty and currently the head of the Grand Secretariat. It's only natural that he would submit a memorial regarding the establishment of the crown prince."
"The First Prince is benevolent, but sickly. His Majesty's heart favors the Second Prince, claiming his appearance, speech, and temperament are quite like his own. His Majesty is secretly overjoyed about it. Back when he was still a prince, he once remarked, 'Strive onward, for the heir has many ailments.' The Second Prince glares like a starving tiger—he harbors the ambitions of a wolf and plots on a grand scale. You only need to count on your fingers how many troops he's hoarding to know what he's up to."
Though still half-asleep moments before, Xianglan jolted fully awake upon hearing the two men speak. The sudden realization that they were behind closed doors, audibly and recklessly discussing state affairs—especially matters concerning the bitter struggle for the succession—made the memories of the tragic ruin of the Shen family in her past life flash through her mind, and cold sweat broke out across her skin. Looking around her surroundings, she saw a canopy hung with twin-fish and auspicious-spider patterns embroidered in solid gold thread, symbolizing endless joy. The bed curtains were drawn tightly shut, and the bedding was luxurious—this was clearly not the bed she usually slept in. She quietly sat up and spotted several books on the bedside table, alongside a number of exquisite daggers and two or three folding fans, all of which belonged to Lin Jinlou. With a jolt of realization, she recognized this place as his study.
Then she heard Yuan Shaoren say, "Order of seniority matters. The First Prince is born of the primary wife and is the eldest legitimate son, plus he was personally chosen as heir apparent by the late Emperor, giving him the moral high ground. The memorials from court officials flooding the Secretariat are said to be overwhelming, all of them urging the protection of the First Prince. Now that Grand Secretary Zhao Jin has submitted a memorial as well, this momentum恐怕 can no longer be checked. The First Prince also happens to have an exceptionally brilliant son, and His Majesty dotes dearly on this grandson. In urging the appointment of the First Prince to the Eastern Palace, Zhao Jin placed this 'blessed sage-grandson' argument right at the very top of his list."
Lin Jinlou laughed. "If the Second Prince's grand dream turns to dust, that old man Zhao Jin will undoubtedly earn his eternal hatred. His Majesty is in the prime of his life and still dotes heavily on the Second Prince. For Zhao Jin to pull a stunt like this is equivalent to staking his entire clan's lives and fortunes on a single throw. He's even more pedantic and out-of-touch than the Shen family back in the day. At least the Shen family had a shred of moral integrity on their side; Zhao Jin is simply a high-minded scholar who loves to sound off with blunt criticisms. Things that could easily be handled with a bit of tact, he insists on dragging into the open just to make himself a target."
Yuan Shaoren chuckled again. "And here I thought everyone was as slippery and evasive as your grandfather."
Lin Jinlou let out a few chuckles as well, paused, and then added, "The Second Prince has sent three invitations for me over the past few days, all of which I've excused myself from. If I push it any further, I'm bound to offend him. Everyone's walking around with a fire burning in their bellies, salivating over the merits of a dragon-slayer, and the princes keep trying to rope people into their factions. It's just that I genuinely have no patience to deal with these petty power struggles. Once I have my audience with the Emperor, I'm heading straight back to Jinling to lie low."
Yuan Shaoren shook his head. Lin Jinlou had truly inherited the true essence of his grandfather's cunning: never sticking his neck out, playing all sides, and scheming quietly beneath the surface. The Lin family's roots ran deep and strong—they simply worked without fanfare and bowed to whoever ultimately sat upon the dragon throne. Though court officials often sneered at them, asking, "Where is your loyalty as subjects?", every generation of the Lin family produced capable administrators who upheld the golden mean of slipperiness. That was precisely why countless noble clans were dragged down by political turmoil and fell into ruin, while the Lin family stood unshaken. He remarked aloud, "I received his invitations too, and I was actually hoping to discuss it with you. Since that's the case, let's accept one next time—we'll talk strictly of wind and moon, and nothing else."
Seeing a pink-enameled porcelain pot sitting on the bedside table, Xianglan reached out and felt it; the pot was still warm. She quietly picked up the matching teacup placed nearby, poured half a cup, and downed it in one gulp. She poured another half-cup and was just about to drink when she heard Yuan Shaoren teasingly remark, "Alright, let's drop this then... Tell me, Yingyang, what happened to your face? Who on earth clawed you like that?"
"Bullshit. I just scraped it during a sparring match."
"Heh, who are you trying to fool? It wasn't there yesterday, and now you're sporting battle scars today. Besides, what grown man grows his fingernails that long unless he's some delicate boy-favorite? Spill it—which little beauty gave you those marks? It sure as hell wasn't anyone from the pleasure quarters; those girls practically treat you like an altar idol... Could it be that you got scratched by the one you keep in your chambers? I never took her for such a fiery tempter given how quiet and gentle she looks. Did you bully her?"
"Go on, get lost, stay out of it. Like I told you, I scraped it sparring. Believe it or not, I don't care."
"Oh? Struck a nerve, have I? I'm just looking out for you, treating a good heart like a donkey's lungs. Honestly, you need to change that temper of yours. Who the hell would want to live day in and day out with a walking firecracker... Come to think of it, is that the exact reason you specially invited me to your home today? Because this face of yours is simply not fit to be seen in public."
"Tch, why do you have so many damn words in you?"
"Fine, fine, I won't say another word. Let's go, out to the courtyard for a sparring session. My bones have felt stiff for days."
"You go ahead, I need to change my clothes." Lin Jinlou pushed the door open and raised his voice to shout, "Shuangxi! Shuangxi! Prepare some hot tea and refreshments, and bring out the weapons for Your Elder Brother Yuan to pick from." With that, he walked over to the adjoining bedchamber. Just as he pulled open the wardrobe to grab a change of clothes, his hand paused. Instead, he walked back to the window and flicked open the bed curtains. There sat Xianglan with her hair hanging loose in disarray, clutching her quilt and holding half a bowl of warm tea. Having just taken a nap, her eyes were even more swollen than before, looking precisely like two bruised peaches.
Xianglan stared right back at him, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs and her palms turning cold. Earlier, she had been running on a solid seven-tenths of alcoholic bravado when she vented her grievances and spite at Lin Jinlou. Now that the alcohol had completely worn off and her wits had returned, a terrifying wave of hindsight terror washed over her. She cautiously raised her gaze to look: Lin Jinlou's left cheek was turned straight toward the window, throwing the bloody claw-marks she had inflicted into harsh, glaring relief. Xianglan felt a dizzying mix of vindictive satisfaction and sheer dread, and she anxiously lowered her head.
Raising an eyebrow, Lin Jinlou hooked the bed curtain back onto a silver fastening hook, reached out to pinch Xianglan's chin, inspected her face from top to bottom and left to right, and calmly declared, "Fine, the swelling's gone down. Apply the ointment one more time tonight, and it won't even be visible."
Never expecting Lin Jinlou to say such a thing, Xianglan's eyes widened in sheer astonishment as she stared at him.
Nodding, Lin Jinlou withdrew his hand, turned with effortless elegance, and went off to change his clothes on his own.
Left sitting there in a daze while her head still throbbed, Xianglan felt as though she were dreaming. A short while later, Lin Jinlou finished changing and stepped out, and a moment after that, the sound of a door slamming shut echoed through the room, jolting Xianglan awake from her trance. She wondered what on earth was wrong with this bastard—could he actually be feeling guilty inside? That was definitely impossible; this fellow had never known right from wrong, living purely by his own whims and desires. She had thrown a tantrum, scratched his face, and cursed him out soundly—he ought to view that as the ultimate humiliation and hate her guts by now...
While Xianglan was lost in her anxious musings, the sound of a door opening signaled the entrance of Shuran, who walked in carrying a food box with a smile. "You're awake, my lady? Are you feeling a bit better?" As she spoke, she set up a kang table on the bed and began pulling the dishes out of the food box. "Your face was as pale as a sheet when you first got back, and it gave us quite a fright, but you're looking much more spirited now. Since you've just woken from a drunken stupor, I figured you wouldn't have much of an appetite, so I asked the kitchen to prepare some light dishes."
The kang table held three plates of crisp, emerald-green seasonal side dishes, a plate of freshly steamed round rice cakes, and a bowl of soup. Realizing just how ravenous she truly was, Xianglan dug in. Once she finished eating, Shuran had a young maid clear away the remaining dishes and personally assisted Xianglan in rinsing her mouth. She then fetched her own mirror case and cosmetics box to comb Xianglan's hair into a neat, simple style.
Suddenly, the heavy thud of hurried footsteps sounded right outside the door, and a young boy's clear, crisp voice rang out: "Father! Uncle Lin!" Before the words faded, he burst straight into the room.