Chapter Ten: If You Say It’s True, Then I’ll Believe It

Chapter Ten: If You Say It's True, I'll Believe It

Yin Ruxin and Yang Yaozong stood chatting casually in the courtyard. In the time it took to finish a cup of tea, Ruyi had already arranged lunch in the main hall and invited the two to dine. The main hall was sparsely decorated, simple and elegant, spacious and bright. With the doors wide open, the pair could enjoy the view of the courtyard as they sat across from each other at the table.

Yang Yaozong preferred such tranquil, leisurely surroundings. Xiao Hua was taken by Ruyi to the back hall. Though reluctant, she followed after Yang Yaozong nodded his assent.

Yin Ruxin picked up a delicate, white porcelain wine pot with blue floral patterns, shaped like a gourd with a long spout, and gracefully walked to Yang Yaozong's side to pour him a cup of wine. The small wine cup matched the pot, also white porcelain with blue floral patterns.

Just by looking at these drinking vessels, Yang Yaozong could tell they were extraordinary. The wine flowed slowly from the upturned spout into the cup, its color a honeyed amber, silky and lustrous, reminiscent of diluted honey, smooth as silk. The aroma was rich and mellow, faint as an orchid.

Yang Yaozong had tasted countless fine wines in his previous life, but had not drunk wine since arriving in this era. He had little interest in such indulgences, yet this wine before him stirred his desire to taste.

Yin Ruxin returned to her seat and poured herself a cup as well, saying, “A simple wine and a few light dishes. If my hospitality is lacking, I ask for your forgiveness, Young Master Yang.”

Yang Yaozong smiled at her, “Miss Yin, you’ve taken great pains. Every dish and wine is thoughtfully prepared. I feel almost undeserving!”

Yin Ruxin smiled demurely, “It’s rare to see Young Master Yang so reserved.” She lifted her cup, “I welcome you as a guest in my humble abode, and hope you will visit often.” She covered her face with her sleeve and drank the cup in one motion.

Yang Yaozong watched her elegant yet hearty gesture. When she set the cup down, a blush had spread across her fair cheeks.

His gaze, full of admiration, met her limpid autumn eyes, bright and pure. He marveled at how this woman could shift so easily between allure and restraint; every frown, every smile, every move was poetic, painterly. Even without talents, by beauty alone she was worthy of being the courtesan queen. In these two days, Yin Ruxin’s conversation had been natural and poised, never ingratiating, her manner as a woman worldly and wise.

Under her autumn gaze, Yang Yaozong held the wine cup, his eyes full of appreciation and praise, meeting hers as he drank. The wine touched his lips and he involuntarily closed his eyes, his throat moving slowly as the gentle, mellow flavor slid down—soothing heart and spleen, leaving the aftertaste of sweet orchid.

He opened his eyes, brightening as he praised, “Excellent wine!”

The wine was not strong, about twenty degrees. It must be a rice wine brewed from glutinous rice. Yet its flavor and aftertaste reminded him of the finest grape wines he’d sampled in his past life.

Yin Ruxin was delighted by his genuine praise. As she laid out dishes with clean chopsticks, she asked, “Do you know the name of the wine you’re drinking, Young Master Yang?”

Yang Yaozong casually picked up a dish she’d served him and tasted it, raising his brows, “I don’t know; I’ve never tasted it before.” He nodded, “The food is delicious as well. I like it very much.” It was already midday since early morning; he was genuinely hungry.

Seeing Yang Yaozong enjoying the small dishes so much, Yin Ruxin was pleased and poured him another cup. “This wine is called Daughter’s Heart, a rice wine brewed from glutinous rice in my hometown.”

Yang Yaozong didn’t stand on ceremony, took the freshly poured cup, and sipped. After swallowing, he mused aloud, “Daughter’s Heart? Gentle and serene, elegant and tender? Like savoring fine wine. Why is it called that? And where is your hometown, Miss Yin?”

Yin Ruxin’s eyes shone with admiration, her cheeks reddening further. Seeing Yang Yaozong waiting for her answer, she smiled and looked away to the courtyard, her lips parting softly, “My hometown is Wuling in Western Hunan.”

She seemed to reminisce, pausing before continuing, “Daughter’s Heart is a wine that all daughters of Wuling know how to brew, filled with the hearts of every girl. When a family has a daughter, the mother brews a jar for her newborn by hand. After bathing the baby, she soaks her in a wooden basin of clean glutinous rice and water, rubs her three times, then lifts her out. The rice and water are left overnight to absorb, then steamed, cooled, and sealed in a jar. Only when the daughter marries is the jar unsealed, and the son-in-law drinks it all. This means the daughter entrusts her life to him, and hopes he will be intoxicated by her, so that he will love only her for life.”

Yang Yaozong gaped, staring at Yin Ruxin, then at his wine cup, dumbfounded.

Seeing his shocked expression, she guessed his thoughts, and, half embarrassed, shot him a fierce look, “What you’re drinking is Daughter’s Heart I brewed myself years ago! Hmph! The one my mother made for me isn’t so easily tasted!”

It was the first time Yang Yaozong saw Yin Ruxin act like a shy young girl. He nodded hurriedly, “The Daughter’s Heart your mother brewed for you surely isn’t for just anyone. To taste the wine you brewed yourself is already a blessing for me.” As he spoke, he poured wine for her and served her some dishes.

“Hmph! Today’s Daughter’s Heart was brewed when I was thirteen, using the finest spring rice and dew gathered from Phoenix Peak in Wuling Mountain. There’s only this single small bottle in the world.” Yin Ruxin remained girlish.

“By your words, I should drink a few more cups today.” Yang Yaozong said shamelessly. As long as it wasn’t about romance, wine—no matter how exquisite the ingredients or complex the process—was ultimately meant to be drunk. Good wine especially so. He thought.

“You…!” Yin Ruxin was both annoyed and amused, watching him pour and drink for himself. She turned away, feigning anger.

“Hey, Miss Yin, if you don’t eat soon, I’ll finish all these delicacies and wine! Don’t be fooled by my slim build, I have a large appetite. I’m trying to gain some weight lately.” Yang Yaozong talked as he ate.

“If you eat a lot, then eat…” She turned and saw Yang Yaozong, now far from the scholarly image, devouring food and drink.

“Slow down, no one’s competing with you. Eat more, drink less—the aftereffects of this wine are strong.” Yin Ruxin felt inexplicably happy seeing Yang Yaozong so unrestrained.

Yang Yaozong ate and drank heartily, but soon felt dizzy. The wine must have gone to his head. In his previous life, he had to stay alert for work, never daring to drink too much. In this life, he feared nothing; even if he drank too much and babbled nonsense, others would just say he was drunk. He truly wanted to get drunk, to taste that feeling, but not here—not at Yin Ruxin’s place, even if she didn't mind. “Drowsy, half drunk, half awake… Just right,” he thought.

The wine pot was empty, the dishes gone. Yang Yaozong set down his chopsticks, took a deep breath, and said, “I’m stuffed, Miss Yin—all your fault for making such good food and wine. Didn’t even give me rice. Now the wine and dishes are gone, don’t blame me.”

Yin Ruxin laughed at his innocent look, shining eyes fixed on her. “Do you still want rice?”

“No, I’m truly full. You barely ate anything thanks to me.” Yang Yaozong patted his belly and continued, “Graceful and delicate, thirteen years old, a bud in early February. This bottle of Daughter’s Heart you brewed at thirteen is filled with a daughter’s tender feelings. Pity… pity there’s only one bottle, and I drank it all.”

“My mother said only a man who knows, understands, cares for, and loves you can taste the true feelings in Daughter’s Heart. Different women, different times, different feelings; the taste of Daughter’s Heart is never the same—sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, all flavors.” Yin Ruxin thought, “Yang Yaozong already described my mood at thirteen when I brewed the wine. Now he speaks again, making my face burn, his gaze intense upon me.” Unable to resist, she drank the wine he had poured for her, saying, “Drink, then. Wine is meant to be drunk, and you talk too much.”

Yang Yaozong found her coyness adorable and replied, “You’re from Wuling, call your mother ‘Ama’. You must be Miao, right?”

He guessed from his previous life’s memory, remembering Wuling was part of the Miao Autonomous Region.

Yin Ruxin’s face paled, her gaze cold. “What, does Young Master Yang look down on Miao people? I am indeed Miao.” She admitted, neither humble nor haughty.

Seeing her expression and tone turn icy, Yang Yaozong spoke calmly, “Han and Miao are one family, all citizens of Great Zhou. Why look down? In fact, I like Miao people. Miao women are passionate yet virtuous, Miao men strong and clever. Miao folk are diligent, honest, kind, clear in love and hate… Isn’t this the character of the people of Great Zhou?”

“You’re quite the eloquent one. We Miao can accept your praise.” Seeing his serious manner, Yin Ruxin’s face bloomed with a smile, her eyes softening.

Watching her smile, so different from her earlier coldness, Yang Yaozong thought, “This woman changes her expression faster than flipping a book.”

“Um… Miss Yin, I’ve heard that Western Hunan is famous for witchcraft, controlling insects and corpses. Is it true?” Yang Yaozong propped his arm on the table, chin in hand, staring intently at her, asking in a secretive tone.

In his previous life, Yang Yaozong was fascinated by ethnic minorities, especially the Miao. Books, films, and dramas all depicted the Miao as mysterious—skilled in medicine, possessing miraculous remedies, able to control insects and poison, divine fortune-telling. These impressions led him to visit Miao areas in Hunan and Sichuan, though he found little about his curiosities, he was deeply touched by their warmth and honesty.

This time, Yin Ruxin wasn’t offended by his blunt question. Instead, her beauty seemed to shine brighter; her eyes flirtatious as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Though dressed in men’s attire, she looked perfectly natural. Meeting Yang Yaozong’s inquisitive gaze, she replied, “If I say it’s true, will you believe me?”

Yang Yaozong nodded seriously, “If you say it’s true, I’ll believe.”

That simple, resolute answer pierced deeply into Yin Ruxin’s heart, tears glimmering in her eyes, her heart flustered. Embarrassed by her own reaction, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve, then teased, “Are you here to trick me into tears?” Looking out to the courtyard, as if her thoughts drifted home, she continued softly, “We Miao are born in the mountains, grow in the mountains, live in the mountains, and are buried in the mountains. Our whole lives are entwined with them. We know the mountains well—the plants, animals, minerals—all treasures to us. We use their properties to heal, saving many lives. Because we understand animals, we train some to help us, but we never harm them. We see them as partners. Animals are more sensitive to environmental change than people, so we predict weather by their behavior: birds fly low before rain, fish leap from the water, ants march in droves. When animals are injured or ill, we treat them and release them back. We’re part of the mountains. Miao believe in the spirit of all things, worship nature. Our beliefs differ from yours, so you treat us as outsiders, suppress and slander us, call us barbarians.”

Her words grew more intense, brows knit, cold fury swelling in her wide eyes. Her teeth bit her lips, almost drawing blood. Her hand clenched into a fist, veins showing beneath her jade skin.

She wasn’t merely narrating; she was living it. With a snort, she continued, “In these years, our people have suffered. Natural disasters we might endure, but then there are…” She paused, realizing some things shouldn’t be said to Yang Yaozong. Seeing him listening intently, she snorted and went on, “In short, it’s not us bullying Han people, but you always bullying us. All officials are Han; we have no place to appeal for justice. If we’re wronged, we must swallow it. We know poisons, but never use them to harm. You Han can’t cure poison, but use it and often harm others. Even without poison, you use hearts more poisonous for schemes. So tell me, who is truly poisonous?”

It was no longer just an argument between her and Yang Yaozong, but a dialogue between peoples.

Yang Yaozong gazed at the extraordinary woman before him, listening to her pain, her sharp questions. He knew she wasn’t questioning him, but those who oppressed her people.

He sat up slowly, avoiding her cold gaze, and walked to the steps at the hall’s entrance, sitting down. He felt dizzy, perhaps the wine had fully kicked in, and stifled, more so from her words.

Yang Yaozong had no answer. He couldn’t speak to her as a modern man, saying Han and Miao are one family, all Zhou people, all equal, no distinction between high and low. In this era, such ideas were fantasy, even unimaginable. In this feudal, monarchic age, people are born into ranks. As a son-in-law in this era, what could he do? What grand words could he offer to comfort her?

He felt suffocated, as if unable to breathe. He wished Yin Ruxin could glimpse the egalitarian world of his past life, where all peoples lived together in harmony. Quietly, he sat on the steps and murmured, “Most Han are kind-hearted. It’s just that some are misled or incited by others, and commit immoral acts. They too are pitiful.”

Yin Ruxin, his first friend in this era, was someone he truly wished to console. Yet he knew, all comforting words were powerless before reality.

Looking at the peaceful, secluded courtyard, he felt so lonely in this era, suddenly longing for his father, mother, and sister. Are you all well? Without me, please be happy.

Yang Yaozong’s eyes reddened, fighting back tears, letting them flow inward.

Yin Ruxin rose and walked over, stopping behind him. Sensing his sadness and loneliness, she quietly sat beside him. Together, they gazed at the courtyard…

The two sat side by side in silence, watching the scenery within.