ITVCFITB CHAPTER 6

 Chapter 6 – A Dagger

Luo Shuyu truly hadn’t meant to cry. It was the rush of memory, the last life layered over the man before him that made the tears come on their own.

He didn’t stop until he hiccupped himself out. His face burned as if scorched by an August sun. In front of Li Mingjin, he had never cried before, last life’s final parting didn’t count.

Now he felt a twinge of embarrassment. They weren’t even married yet; what if he’d scared him off by bawling like a fool? What if it put the prince off? They had made such difficult progress, last time… The thought pricked, and his heart sank all over again. He’d come wanting to do right by him and had probably done the one thing he disliked.

Li Mingjin, face stern as ever, was even more at a loss. They stood facing one another; Luo Shuyu lifted dewy eyes to him. Seeing no trace of disdain there, the knot in his chest finally loosened.

“Don’t cry,” Li Mingjin said, steady and intent.

“I just got sand in my eyes,” Luo Shuyu lied, stubborn as could be. “Wasn’t trying to cry.”

“Mm.” Only then did Li Mingjin truly look over his future consort. Bold-faced fibber¹, he thought.

Apart from those reddened eyes, this ger had the most striking looks he had ever seen. Hair simply tied, elegant and clean, no powdery scent, only a single plain jade hairpin. His face was like peach blossom, his apricot eyes seeming to hold starlight. Chin slightly lifted, he regarded Li Mingjin with earnest concentration.

No one had ever dared look straight at him like that. A tremor ran through Li Mingjin’s heart; it had been beating too fast all day.

Why did he start crying at the sight of him? Was he truly that frightening?

Reborn, Luo Shuyu knew now that Li Mingjin had never despised him, not then, not ever. Perhaps it had been the world’s rumors that clouded his own mind; they had never truly spoken. Only after they had a child did he begin to understand the man’s different kind of nature. But there had been no time to learn more before disaster shattered them.

Luckily, he had come back. He would learn Li Mingjin anew. Learn his husband anew.

Having lived again, he would live well this time. Gods or Buddhas, whoever stood in his way, he’d cut them down if he must. No one would bar him from his life.

He looked straight into Li Mingjin’s eyes, wanting to etch this moment into memory, so he would never forget. Heaven had given him another chance; he would not waste it.

This Li Mingjin, now, was not the same as he would be years hence. Where was the so-called gloom? He merely looked a little short on sleep. His features were deeper cut than most, eyes set a touch deeper, those light-brown irises growing more intense when he looked at someone. He took after the mother who had married in from the Western Regions, sword brows and starry eyes, striking and enduringly handsome. Today he wore a jade belt at his waist, white boots at his feet. Tall, straight-backed, he essentially radiated safety.

To Luo Shuyu’s eyes, everywhere he looked, Li Mingjin excelled.

Once he had calmed, Luo Shuyu drew out the envelope he had brought when he left home. He sniffed back the last of his tears and held it out. “For you.”

Li Mingjin didn’t quite understand. A letter from his future consort, his heartbeat stumbled and then pounded, face going even stiffer. Fearing a misunderstanding, Luo Shuyu added quickly, “It’s a poem.”

A love poem? thought Li Mingjin, watching him closely. Aloud, voice low: “Are you going to the poetry gathering?”

Luo Shuyu shook his head. “No. I heard someone plans to plagiarize this poem at the gathering to dazzle the crowd. I like this poem and the poet, who is long dead, very much. I don’t want it stolen. I want the truth exposed so no one is deceived.”

Li Mingjin opened the letter and skimmed the lines. He nodded, an excellent poem, and his consort’s brushwork was fine as well. “Who is the poet?”

Luo Shuyu remembered that Shen Mingyun had called him the Immortal of Poetry, Li Bai.

“His name is Li Bai. I found his work while collecting books. I don’t know which country he’s from, but his poetry makes one feel a grand ambition rising in the chest. I liked it at once. Later I learned someone else had also gotten hold of a collection and planned to unveil it at the gathering. I want to stop that.”

“I see.” A flicker of disappointment, so it wasn’t a love poem meant for him. “I’ll return to the gathering.”

“Don’t bring it up yourself,” Luo Shuyu reminded him softly.

“Mm.”

Li Mingjin had been gone a while already. He started away with his ever-straightfaced guard but after two steps, he turned back, unfastened the dagger at his waist, and held it out. “Keep it.”

Luo Shuyu blinked in surprise. That dagger had been with Li Mingjin for years; he rarely took it off. Why give it to him now?

At the end, Li Mingjin left him one more line: “Our wedding day is the tenth of the eighth month.”

Before Luo Shuyu could ask more, the prince had gone with the poem in hand. There was so much he wanted to say. No matter. There would be time.

The date is earlier than in the last life by four months. Then, they had wed in the twelfth month, in a bitter, bone-deep cold.

On their wedding night, Li Mingjin had returned to the bridal chamber, and the two had not shared a bed. One on the bed, one on the couch. Back then, Luo Shuyu had felt a petty relief. Looking back now, his behavior must have been dreadful, he hadn’t given the man so much as a pleasant face.

He looked down at the dagger in his hand, a small smile lifting his lips. Trust exchanged for trust?

Li Mingjin trusted him. But why so easily?

From sorrow to elation, Luo Shuyu rode that wave, until Qingwang’s half-panicked shout reeled him back to earth.

“Master, are we still going to the gathering?”

Hugging the dagger to his chest, Luo Shuyu said, “No. Let’s go back. And find someone reliable to keep an eye on Shen Mingyun.”

“Yes.” Qingwang couldn’t help himself; curiosity bubbled up. “Master, the Th-Third Prince, he… he gave you a dagger.” What did that mean? And yet, he was still frightening. Especially those eyes, so dark and predatory, like a judge of the underworld who sees straight to the soul.

Luo Shuyu only smiled. He also sent Qingwang to sniff out what happened at the poetry meet. He wondered how Li Mingjin would handle the poem.

They returned to Ruyi Pavilion.

With few people left to rely on, Luo Shuyu thought back. In his past life, he had spurned scheming, believing such games unworthy of an upright man. Now he understood: what good is “upright” if it costs your life? Words are cheap when your heart’s blood is on the line. To live for oneself, that is comfort.

His death had not come solely from princes targeting Li Mingjin. Shen Mingyun’s stance toward him had played a part.

Not that they had any deep, irreconcilable hatred. But Shen Mingyun was petty, vengeful, forever magnifying trifles into great wrongs. He claimed to be from a peaceful, open, technologically advanced world; he looked down on everyone here, took offense at the smallest slight, and had no magnanimity to speak of.

Thinking back over the book, their greatest conflict had been a particular incident.

As the Third Prince’s consort, Luo Shuyu had to attend banquet after banquet, the Hundred Flowers Banquet hosted by one favored consort, a garden party by the empress, a full-moon celebration for some minister’s newborn… There was no avoiding them. He met Shen Mingyun at one such event. A clumsy servant at his side had knocked and damaged a precious painting he had begged for a year to obtain. Furious, Luo Shuyu had ordered Qingwang to discipline the unruly servant, several strokes with the board and two days’ rest to recover, nothing more. But Shen Mingyun called it cruelty, a privilege used to trample a life. In the book, he had later appraised the deaths of Luo Shuyu and Li Mingjin with four words: “More than deserved.”

Luo Shuyu could only ask what had he done wrong? What had his innocent child done wrong?

Shen Mingyun had done far worse to protect his own glittering prospects. How had he never recognized his own guilt?

Back at the courtyard, Qingquan and the rest were still kneeling, heat-dazed and listless.

Luo Shuyu ordered them to pack their things and get out of his courtyard at once.

He released them so readily because he knew the truth: maids who betrayed their master had few places to go. Beyond Lady Liu’s quarters, no one would take them. He need not lift a finger. Their futures would not be bright.

Lady Liu had her own trusted attendants; she would not keep these. They would be sent elsewhere, worse than now and chances to rise would be slim.

Pity them? No. He’d save his pity for people who deserved it.

After they left, Qingwang muttered a few choice curses, genuinely indignant for his master.

“Give it time,” Luo Shuyu said lightly.

Qingwang thought it over and understood.

Losing Qingquan and the others didn’t affect their daily life much. Four or five left; a few house-born youngsters remained to handle rough work. They had once reported to Qingquan; now they would answer to Qingwang.

This life, he would first cultivate servants loyal to him.

Compared to other courtyards, his staff was indeed small but for now, it was enough.

No sooner had Qingquan gone than Lady Liu arrived with an entourage.

Times had changed: Luo Shuyu would soon be the Third Prince’s consort. The household must not make waves now. As for Qingquan’s foolishness, once this is over, Lady Liu would make sure she regretted it.

As for Lady Liu, he knew plenty from the book, she held the key to his mother’s dowry storeroom.

So much for Luo Renshou’s “trust.”

Lady Liu could play humble, understood the wisdom of “money kept quiet.” But the children she raised had learned none of it. After he entered the prince’s household, she would trickle pieces of his mother’s dowry to Luo Shuyu and Luo Shuyue; told to keep a low profile, they’d do the opposite every time.

Luo Shuyue and Luo Shuyao were forever at odds with Shen Mingyun, competing in beauty, flaunting ornaments and fabrics pilfered from that dowry. And every time, they were outdone, because Shen Mingyun’s system always produced newer designs.

“Shuyu—”

Her voice arrived before she did. Luo Shuyu was already seated, waiting.

Lady Liu breezed in, smiling, about to mention the matter of Qingquan and the others. Luo Shuyu cut across her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Aunt Liu², have you come to deliver my mother’s dowry inventory and the storeroom key?”

Her smile froze, breath catching. Aunt? What did that mean?

Annoyance flashed and underneath it, panic.

---

Author’s Note:
Third Prince: Where’s my love poem?
Luo Shuyu: …

—

The Third Prince is not reborn.
Luo Shuyu is reborn.
Shen Mingyun is a transmigrator.

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Little notes:

• Bold-faced fibber: a little liar telling an obvious lie.
• 'Aunt' Liu: This title has a passive-aggressive edge towards it. Addressing her as such instead of anything warmer or more respectful like Madam/Lady Liu is basically telling her that he refuses to recognize her as a mother figure or reinforcing her having a lower status than him in the household.