Chapter Eleven: I Will Believe Whatever You Say

By the banks of the Qinhuai River, within the dark-robed alley, two quiet figures sat side by side on the steps before the courtyard hall, seemingly melted into the scenery painted with meticulous brushwork of Qinhuai.

No one knew how long the two had sat there in silence. As Yang Yaozong’s drunkenness gradually faded, he turned to look at Yin Ruxin sitting beside him.

Yin Ruxin turned to meet his gaze.

They smiled at each other. In their hearts, a feeling of calm, naturalness, understanding, and ease arose. It was as if nothing had happened between them not long ago.

Yang Yaozong extended his legs with some comfort, leaned back, and supported himself with his arms on the upper step, squinting at the azure sky above. The clouds drifted lazily, languid and slow.

Yin Ruxin hugged her knees, resting her head sideways as she watched Yang Yaozong.

“Your little courtyard is wonderful,” he said, taking a deep breath to dispel the stifling air in his chest. “In truth, my heart yearns for a peaceful life returning to nature… Clearing the wilds of the south, keeping my simplicity, returning to the fields and gardens. A cottage of ten acres, thatched huts scattered about. Elm and willow shade the eaves, peach and plum bloom before the hall. Distant villages, faint smoke from the hamlets. Dogs bark deep in alleys, roosters crow atop mulberry trees. The courtyard is free from dust and noise, the empty room holds leisure…”

Other than the occasional rustling of bamboo leaves, the only sound in the courtyard was Yang Yaozong’s slow, painting-like recitation of poetry.

Yin Ruxin gazed at the blue sky, letting Yang Yaozong’s gentle poetry draw her into the world the verses described—a pastoral, thatched cottages, elms and willows, peach and plum, villages, cooking smoke, barking dogs, crowing roosters, courtyards. She felt as if she was there, strolling through it.

Both were immersed in the poetic world; only after a long while did Yin Ruxin’s thoughts drift back to her own body. She looked at Yang Yaozong, who was still lost in the poem, her eyes filled with complex emotions: admiration, praise, confusion, curiosity, and a budding care and affection.

Yang Yaozong, too, emerged from the poetic reverie. Turning, he met Yin Ruxin’s gaze and smiled lightly, saying, “I must have amused you, Miss Yin.”

Yin Ruxin continued to gaze at him and shook her head, as if she suddenly sensed an unreachable loneliness within Yang Yaozong. Her heart ached, and she silently shook her head. “Young Master Yang, you are not yet twenty, and already wish to retreat from the world?”

“Though I have not entered the world, I am already apart from it. To be a son-in-law is itself a kind of seclusion. As for me… I have never harbored grand ambitions in my chest, I only wish for my family’s well-being, and that is enough,” Yang Yaozong replied quietly.

Listening to his plain and unremarkable words, Yin Ruxin suddenly felt a strange pang in her heart.

Yang Yaozong exhaled deeply, rose, and gently brushed his robe. Seeing Yin Ruxin still curled up on the steps, quietly watching him, he unconsciously extended his right hand toward her, intending to help her up.

Yin Ruxin saw Yang Yaozong’s clear gaze and calm expression as he held out his hand to her. She was momentarily stunned.

Yang Yaozong noticed her staring at his outstretched hand and suddenly realized that, in this era, men and women were not to touch each other. Embarrassed, he was about to withdraw his hand.

But at that moment, after a brief hesitation, Yin Ruxin, not knowing where her courage came from, bit her cherry lips, her face flushed, and lowered her head, quietly raised her delicate hand, and her slender fingertips lightly touched Yang Yaozong’s palm.

Skin met skin!

“Her fingertips are soft and slightly cool,” Yang Yaozong thought.

“His palm is dry and gentle,” Yin Ruxin felt likewise.

Yang Yaozong did not hesitate and gently clasped Yin Ruxin’s slender fingers, helping her slowly to her feet.

Perhaps Yin Ruxin’s legs had been curled up for too long. As she stood, she realized her legs were numb, and the painful tingling made it hard for her to move. She frowned, but her body was already leaning forward, guided by Yang Yaozong, and her lowered forehead unexpectedly bumped against Yang Yaozong’s lips. Her hands pressed firmly against his chest.

She distinctly felt the soft touch on her forehead, and her head drooped even lower. The blush on her face instantly spread to her entire body—her delicate ears, jade neck, and slender fingertips all turned pink and white. Her hands remained pressed against Yang Yaozong’s chest, not daring to move.

At that moment, Yang Yaozong only felt pain in his lips. He raised his hand to cover his mouth, speaking somewhat awkwardly, “Miss Yin… I… I think my mouth is bleeding.”

“Ah?” Though Yin Ruxin was shy, she took a hurried step back, biting her cherry lips, raising her red face to see him covering his mouth. Both embarrassed and anxious, she stammered, “I… I’ll get you some water.” Her flustered heart made her lose composure, not caring about her still painful, numb legs, and she turned, running into the hall like a young girl.

Accepting the cup from Yin Ruxin’s hands, which were full of shy concern, Yang Yaozong rinsed his mouth and smiled to reassure her, “It’s nothing, I just scraped it on my teeth.” He licked the injured spot with his tongue. “It's stopped bleeding already.”

Hearing “scraped,” Yin Ruxin couldn’t help recalling the scene just now. She nodded silently, but her embarrassment intensified, and she lowered her head, not daring to look at Yang Yaozong.

Seeing her demeanor, Yang Yaozong wanted to break the awkward atmosphere. “Miss Yin, shall we sit in the pavilion and taste your treasured tea? I can tell you about the two things Bruno gave me, how about that?”

“Yes, Young Master Yang, please wait in the pavilion. I will prepare,” she said, lifting her head. Though her blush had not faded, she gave Yang Yaozong a radiant smile.

When Yin Ruxin returned, she had changed into women’s attire. A pale pink silk dress hugged her now unrestrained, graceful figure, a light pink sash tied in front with a lovely butterfly knot, accentuating her voluptuousness. Her hair was not pinned up but let down freely behind her. Though the look seemed casual, she had evidently put thought into it.

Yang Yaozong sat in the pavilion and saw Yin Ruxin approaching elegantly, with Ru Yi and Little Hua following behind. Ru Yi carried a tea tray with both hands.

It was the first time Yang Yaozong had seen Yin Ruxin in women’s clothing. In his heart, he praised her—it was true, this woman could captivate in countless ways. No matter how she presented herself, she was astonishing and intoxicating.

Seeing the admiration and appreciation in Yang Yaozong’s eyes as he looked at her, Yin Ruxin—though accustomed to such glances—felt a particular joy at his gaze. She hoped he would always look at her like this.

Yin Ruxin entered the pavilion, gracefully kneeling at the side of the stone table where Yang Yaozong sat. Ru Yi placed the tea tray between them and retreated behind Yin Ruxin. Little Hua stood not far behind Yang Yaozong.

Without speaking, Yin Ruxin reached out her delicate hand to pick up a kettle of hot water, slowly pouring it into two side-by-side white jade ceramic tea bowls. The bowls, moistened by the hot water, glowed with a lustrous white. The sleeves of Yin Ruxin’s dress today were not very long, just reaching her fair wrists, their cuffs floating lightly—her graceful movements revealed her pale white arms above the wrists.

After rinsing the bowls, Yin Ruxin poured out the water, opened the kettle’s lid to test the temperature with the back of her hand, nodded, closed the lid, and smiled at Yang Yaozong. She then poured hot water into the pre-warmed jade bowls, opened a small blue-and-white ceramic jar containing tea leaves, and used bamboo tongs to place tea leaves into each bowl. Her movements were elegant and fluid. Her sandalwood lips parted: “This tea is newly harvested this spring from my hometown, called Jietan tea.”

The tea buds floated upright, absorbing water, gradually expanding, rising and falling three times like shrimp dancing. The tender green leaves settled at the bottom, neat and bright. The brew was a clear, bright green.

Yin Ruxin held the bowl with her right hand, supporting it with her left from underneath, offering it to Yang Yaozong: “Please, Young Master Yang, do give your appraisal.”

Yang Yaozong smiled and nodded, accepting the bowl with both hands. He sniffed it, then took a small sip, holding it in his mouth before swallowing slowly. “This tea is fresh, mellow, sweet, and refreshing. It leaves a lingering sweetness, and the aroma remains on the lips and teeth. Hmm… interestingly, it seems more fragrant from afar than up close.”

Yin Ruxin’s beautiful eyes sparkled with joy and appreciation as she nodded, playfully chiding, “Young Master Yang, and you claim not to know tea? Its flavor is exactly as you say. This Jietan tea is produced on Jietan Mountain in Wuling. The mountain is majestic and the peaks rise abruptly. The Yuan River rushes against the head of the Qinglang shoal, and twenty li upstream is Jietan Mountain. The waves stirred at Qinglang shoal are misted by the river wind, drifting and swirling, so the mountain is shrouded in mist all year round. Such a climate is perfect for tea growth.”

Yang Yaozong watched Yin Ruxin, who was proudly describing her hometown’s landscape, with admiration. He nodded in praise, “Good tea grows in high mountain mist and rain! Coming to your villa today was truly worthwhile. I’ve enjoyed fine wine and tasted excellent tea, and as etiquette requires reciprocity, I have a gift for you as well. But not now—I need some time to prepare it.”

“He has a gift for me?” Yin Ruxin’s heart was filled with excitement and joy. Hearing Yang Yaozong say it would take some time, she felt a bit shy and annoyed, but more curious and expectant. “What kind of gift could it be? Why does it require preparation? How long is ‘some time’? Days? Months? Years? He’s so mysterious.” As her questions multiplied, so did her curiosity and frustration. She glared at Yang Yaozong, about to ask.

Yang Yaozong saw her expressive eyes reveal every bit of her mood. As she opened her mouth to ask, he quickly interjected, “Don’t ask anything—I won’t tell you.” Seeing her bite her lip angrily, he laughed, “I always keep my promises. Please look forward to it, Miss Yin. Let me keep some suspense. Didn’t you want to know what the two things Bruno gave me are? Let me tell you about those first.”

Yin Ruxin was indeed annoyed, thinking, “He’s said everything, prepared a gift for me, won’t reveal anything, and won’t let me ask. Infuriating!” Yet she was still happy, though she didn’t want to show it to Yang Yaozong. She feigned annoyance: “Hmph! If you want to speak, speak; if not, I can’t force you, can I?”

Yang Yaozong knew she was teasing him and shook his head, laughing as he drank his tea. “You really are petty.”

“Hmph! Young women are meant to be petty. Why should I have a broad heart? Young Master Yang has a grand heart, yet won’t answer my questions or solve my doubts. Hmph!” Yin Ruxin continued to tease.

“Er… my broad heart…” He glanced at her, noticing how her chest rose and fell as she pretended to be angry. He choked on his tea, “Cough, cough. My heart is not that big.”

That single glance was caught by Yin Ruxin, who bit her lip, both shy and annoyed. Seeing Yang Yaozong choke, she couldn’t keep up her pretense and burst into soft laughter, whispering, “Serves you right!” Her teasing voice reached only Yang Yaozong’s ears. She was about to rise to help him, but saw Little Hua already behind him, gently patting his back. She resumed her calm pose, kneeling in place.

Afterward, Yang Yaozong earnestly explained the uses and methods of the clock and telescope to Yin Ruxin. Hearing his explanation, Yin Ruxin was astounded, hardly able to believe it, and looked to him for confirmation. “Are clocks and telescopes truly inventions from foreign lands?”

Yang Yaozong nodded solemnly. He gazed coldly at Yin Ruxin. She had never seen him so serious, and felt somewhat afraid. She spoke softly, “What… is the matter?”

Seeing her timid demeanor, Yang Yaozong realized he had lost composure.

In this era, still closed off and stagnant, whether plagued by internal strife or beset by external wars, people believed their land vast and their civilization superior to any other nation. Unbeknownst to them, there were mountains beyond mountains, people beyond people. The countries dismissed as uncivilized barbarians by the Great Zhou were rising and even surpassing Zhou’s civilization and technology. Yang Yaozong sighed inwardly—must the tragic history he knew from his previous life repeat itself in this age? If he spoke of it, no one would understand, only think him anxious without cause. The belief that China was the world’s center, the origin of civilization—these ideas were deeply rooted in people’s hearts. Yet war and invasion disregard civilization. Some harsh realities, unless confronted directly, are not easily enough to shake thousands of years of entrenched habits. Having lived two lives, Yang Yaozong had never felt so small and powerless.

He sighed, calming his complex and troubled thoughts, and said quietly, “If I spoke of certain things, you’d think me overly anxious and fearful. Honestly, not just you—perhaps everyone would think so. So I keep silent, and everyone gets along, remains friends and confidants, drinking and chatting. You are the first friend I’ve made in Tianjing; I wouldn’t want to scare you away.”

Yin Ruxin saw no trace of jest in Yang Yaozong’s face, and that feeling of his loneliness rose again within her. She wanted to open the door that kept him outside, to draw near, to touch him, but realized she had no way to unlock it. “Is it that I dare not approach, or has he closed it so tightly no one can find a way in?” she wondered painfully.

Though Yang Yaozong concealed it well, Yin Ruxin still sensed his sorrow and loneliness. She summoned her courage, locking her burning eyes onto him, and spoke slowly but firmly: “If you speak, I will believe you.”