Loosening the Spring Garment

“Ah Ying… give me a child…”

Beneath the embroidered quilt, amid the silken pillows steeped in the remnants of intimacy, her fingertips rested against the warm, rising and falling expanse of his back.

Xie Rong’s hand traced again and again over Dai Ying’s lower abdomen. His voice was hoarse to the point of rupture, trembling with restraint on the brink of desire unleashed.

In a dazed haze, she let out a soft, languid murmur, the sound crushed and broken between parted lips.

Her neck arched as she yielded to his kiss. Her slender arms, pale as tender lotus stems, instinctively wound around his sweat-dampened nape. Their black hair tangled upon the pillow as an unfamiliar heat steadily surged upward, rippling through her limbs and bones. In the most intense tide of passion, a faint warmth seemed to take root within her body—quietly, irrevocably—binding itself into flesh and blood, as though something of him had begun to grow within her.

At that very moment—

“Mother, look! I made a brush holder for Father!”

A child’s bright, clear voice shattered the illusion and dragged Dai Ying back from the depths of memory.

Immediately after, a gentle woman’s voice drifted in from beyond the wall.

“Our Yi’er is truly skillful. Your father will surely like it.”

Hearing that voice, Dai Ying lowered her gaze to her own fingertips.

They were no longer the hands she remembered.

These were withered, emaciated hands—thin as dead branches, veins dark and swollen beneath parchment-like skin.

She froze.

And then, that familiar, tranquil male voice sounded again, piercing her chest with sudden, unbearable pain.

“Such thoughtfulness from my son—Father is very pleased.”

Dai Ying slowly withdrew her trembling hand.

Ruoyan entered carrying medicinal soup, her eyes red-rimmed. “Madam… the medicine is ready.”

“Is that child… Young Master Yi?” Dai Ying did not look at the medicine. Her gaze remained fixed upon the courtyard wall beyond.

“Yes,” Ruoyan replied softly. “He is the youngest son of the master and the main wife.”

She placed the bowl on the table, her heart heavy and suffocating.

A man’s heart, once believed to be unyielding, had turned colder than iron—no, colder still. He had once held only her in his eyes and heart. And now…

Dai Ying lifted the bowl and drank it down in one motion, her expression utterly blank. Bitter medicine flooded her throat.

“Leave.”

Ruoyan hesitated, looking at her frail, solitary figure, but in the end said nothing and withdrew.

When the door closed, Dai Ying leaned against the window lattice, her arm resting upon it. In the daylight, her skin appeared so thin it seemed almost translucent.

She knew she would not live long.

This ruined, crumbling existence held nothing worth clinging to.

As she hovered on the edge of consciousness, fragments of her past life surged before her eyes like a collapsing tide.

She was the eldest daughter of Dai Wanchang of Pinggu. Though the Dai family were merchants, they were immensely wealthy. Her engagement to Xie Rong had been arranged through her aunt, Dai Wanru.

Back then, Dai Wanru had insisted on marrying the impoverished scholar Xie Shan. Xie Shan’s advancement in officialdom had been entirely funded by Dai Wanchang, with the expectation that he would, in time, elevate the status of the Dai family.

Later, when Xie Shan became a seventh-rank court official in the capital, the childhood engagement between Dai Ying and Xie Rong was formally set.

At sixteen, they were originally to finalize the marriage negotiations, but her mother suddenly fell gravely ill and passed away. Dai Ying observed three years of mourning, delaying the marriage until the age of nineteen.

Once the mourning period ended, the Xie family sent for her to come to the capital.

At first, life in the Xie residence had seemed gentle. Her aunt treated her with warmth, her cousin Xie Zhen called her “Cousin” with affectionate ease, and Xie Rong himself was tender and considerate, treating her as he had in childhood—teasing her gently, speaking with familiarity and care.

And yet, at some unknown point, everything began to change.

“Has Brother met the daughter of the Grand Councilor’s household, Miss Lu?” she once asked.

“Do not overthink,” he had replied calmly. “It is only baseless gossip from servants.”

If he had been honest at that time, she could have withdrawn entirely. She was never bound to him without choice.

But later, he used the excuse of “political necessity,” claiming he needed the Lu family’s power to advance his career. Under that pretext, he married Lu Wan’er in full ceremony—while simultaneously pressing and coercing Dai Ying into becoming his concubine.

“Ah Ying, you have no other choice but me. And I will not allow you any other choice.”

Everything had been meticulously arranged from the moment she stepped into the Xie household.

She became his concubine. Her courtyard lanterns burned for him alone. Red silk curtains warmed the night. Affection lingered for years. And then—she conceived.

Until one day, Lu Wan’er broke into her residence with attendants in tow. Two matronly servants pinned her down as a bowl of thick, black medicinal poison was forced down her throat.

It was a fully formed male child.

And with it, her body was destroyed.

After that, Xie Rong never stepped into her courtyard again. She once tried to stop him—only to be met with his cold indifference.

Later, Lu Wan’er bore child after child, while she was abandoned in this cold courtyard for ten long years.

Ten years.

“Ah Ying… Ah Ying…”

Through the haze of fading consciousness, she heard his voice again—trembling, fractured.

When she opened her eyes, Xie Rong was holding her in his arms, his eyes blood-red, his body shaking uncontrollably. It was a loss of control she had never seen before.

“Brother… why…” she tried to ask, but no strength remained in her voice.

Sunlight filtered down through drifting dust, landing upon her body.

Bit by bit, it grew cold.

…

“Madam! These little trinkets from the streets of the capital—Pinggu has nothing like them!” Ruoyan chattered as she entered with tea.

Dai Ying accepted the cup. The warmth against her fingertips startled her into sudden awareness.

She was not dreaming.

Two days ago, she had awakened—reborn at the age of nineteen, having entered the Xie residence for less than a month.

She looked at her hands. Smooth, delicate, alive. Then at the bronze mirror.

In the reflection was a young woman with clear eyes, healthy complexion, and soft color in her cheeks—no trace of illness remained.

After accepting this reality, she understood her path with absolute clarity.

She must, by any means necessary, dissolve her engagement and escape the Xie household.

She would never again be entangled with Xie Rong.

But she knew—it would not be easy.

Xie Rong would not release her. Dai Wanru would not release her. That woman despised her merchant origins while coveting her dowry all the same.

Her father, Dai Wanchang, was equally unreliable. He cared only for the benefits her marriage could bring. In her previous life, when she fell into ruin, he had not lifted a single hand to help her.

“Take the hairpins, earrings, and other gifts purchased today, and send them to Aunt and Cousin Zhen,” she instructed calmly. “Since we are living here, we must maintain appearances.”

Ruoyan nodded and prepared the gifts. Her gaze then fell upon the jade collar around Dai Ying’s neck.

“Madam… why are you wearing this today?”

The finely worked gold-threaded jade collar was rarely worn, considered too precious and heavy.

“It is bait,” Dai Ying murmured.

If her memory served correctly, tomorrow was Lu Wan’er’s birthday banquet.

The Lu residence stood like an immovable monument of authority—each brick and tile steeped in the cold weight of power. A single breath of that world could crush someone like her, rootless and unprotected, into dust.

In the main hall, Dai Wanru sat drinking tea while Xie Zhen played idly with a handkerchief.

Upon seeing Dai Ying enter, Dai Wanru lifted her gaze slightly. “You said you were ill a few days ago. You seem better now.”

“Thank you for your concern, Aunt. I am recovered,” Dai Ying replied, lowering herself in a curtsey as Ruoyan presented the gift box.

Xie Zhen’s eyes lit up immediately. She snatched open the box. “These hairpins are beautiful!”

Dai Wanru glanced at them lazily. “You have only just arrived in the capital. There is no need for such extravagance.”

Yet her tone carried no intention of refusal.

“As long as Aunt and Cousin like them,” Dai Ying said softly, concealing the chill in her eyes.

Xie Zhen, dazzled by the jewels, blurted without thinking, “I was just worrying about tomorrow’s visit to the Lu residence…”

Her words stopped abruptly as she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Tomorrow was the Lu family’s young lady’s birthday banquet. She had intended to keep it secret, fearing Dai Ying might wish to attend and overshadow her, or bring her own disgrace among the noble ladies of the capital.

Dai Ying understood her thoughts perfectly.

Before Xie Zhen could recover, Dai Wanru interjected smoothly, “Before you arrived, she was worrying about a single invitation. Only one seat was granted, not two. She was even willing to give her place to you, your cousin. Such kindness from her is rare.”

Dai Zhen—simple-minded and easily pleased—was no match for the scheming world of official households.

Dai Wanru, observing her daughter’s foolish excitement, felt only weariness. The Xie household had always been strained. Official rank low, income meager. Everything depended on her dowry.

She was, in truth, the one holding the household together—outwardly dignified, inwardly exhausted.

“Given the status of Miss Lu, it is natural she invited only Cousin Zhen,” Dai Ying said with a faint smile. “If Cousin is gracious enough to let me attend, I would not dare accept.”

Xie Zhen immediately protested, only to be distracted by Dai Ying’s jade collar.

“What is that around Cousin’s neck? I have never seen it before.”

“It is too heavy. I do not usually wear it.”

“May I borrow it for a day?” Xie Zhen asked eagerly.

After a brief pause, Dai Ying replied, “If Cousin likes it, you may wear it for a day. But remember—do not take it beyond the estate gates.”

Xie Zhen agreed without hesitation.

Yet she failed to notice the faint, cold curve at the corner of Dai Ying’s eyes.

Whether the engagement could be dissolved… would depend entirely on this.

After exchanging a few more idle pleasantries with the women of the Xie household, Dai Ying took her leave. She stepped out of the main hall but did not depart immediately; instead, she turned at the corner and made her way along the side corridor of the building.

From within, the voices of mother and daughter drifted faintly through the lattice window.

“How much longer does Mother intend to keep her in our residence? Why is she not sent away? Because of her, I cannot even lift my head in front of my companions.”

A reply followed—Dai Wanru’s voice, measured yet cold.

“You need not disdain her. In the end, she is destined to enter your brother’s inner chambers.”

“You truly intend to marry her to Eldest Brother?” Xie Zhen exclaimed. Her brother, young yet already serving as an official in the Imperial Academy, was not of high rank, but his prospects were bright and unimpeded. How could someone like Dai Ying ever be worthy of him?

Dai Wanru shot her