Wife-Zhaotingting

The events that followed were just as the rumors in the jianghu had said.
Qinyan was taken by Zhao Jin back to the Sword-Casting Manor. To outsiders, she seemed to be taken as a concubine, but in truth, she was treated more like a servant. She entered without a name or position, and upon arrival was assigned to a side courtyard called Accumulated Snow Pavilion. She was given a maid named Xiao Hui to accompany her.

As for Zhao Jin, once he returned, he disappeared without a trace.
From the name “Accumulated Snow Pavilion,” one could already guess—it must be a place of perpetual snow, desolate and deserted. The pavilion was located at the northernmost corner of the manor, next to the servants’ quarters. Further in stood an iron wall five zhang high.

Because of the manor’s special nature—that it could forge the most powerful weapons in the world—it had always been coveted by others since ancient times. For protection, the Sword-Casting Manor surrounded its entrance with a layer of towering walls. Five zhang high, cast from refined iron. There were more than ten great gates, each guarded by heavy troops.

Adding to the naturally rugged terrain, without an insider to lead the way, it was impossible to leave.
Thus, Qinyan settled in Accumulated Snow Pavilion. She had never liked noise and bustle, so the remote location suited her just fine. And she would not get bored—her maid Xiao Hui was a chatterbox, often able to talk to herself for hours.

Together, the two lived in ease and comfort.
Here, Qinyan had food and drink every day, no longer forced to practice dancing, embroidery, or tricks to please men. Compared to her days in the Chunfeng Brothel, life was immeasurably better.

She seemed to live with ease, but there were still uninvited guests.
One of them bore the same surname as Zhao Jin—Zhao, named Zhao Tingting, who was Zhao Jin’s cousin.

This young lady became the second key figure in the story. Zhao Tingting, cousin to Zhao Jin, was of the same age, only months apart. By seniority, she was his cousin, but in terms of blood, things were different. Long ago, Zhao Tingting’s ancestor had been a servant to Zhao Jin’s ancestor. Later, due to saving his life, the two became sworn brothers, and the surname Zhao was bestowed. Thus, there was no blood relation.

Zhao Tingting had been sent to the Sword-Casting Manor to be raised from childhood. Though said to be education, it was plain to all that she was being raised as a future wife for Zhao Jin.

But Zhao Jin had no interest in Zhao Tingting. In love between man and woman, novelty played a great role. The two of them had grown up together since infancy, then in the same courtyard. By the time adolescence came, Zhao Jin saw Zhao Tingting as if looking into a mirror—there was simply no interest. But Zhao Tingting was different. Since childhood, she knew her duty and had regarded him as her future husband. Naturally, she strove desperately to please him, putting him above all else. The result was that Zhao Jin grew more and more disinterested. Until one day, when he went out and brought back another woman.

That woman was Qinyan.

The hostility of women was terrifying. According to incomplete statistics, in the half year since Qinyan entered the manor, Zhao Tingting had come to cause trouble every few days. She even resorted to false accusations and framing. But fortunately, Qinyan’s intelligence was extraordinary, and Zhao Tingting never succeeded. Qinyan’s brilliance only highlighted Zhao Tingting’s foolishness. It proved the saying: if one’s face is beautiful, usually the intelligence is not so high—for all the nourishment has gone to the face.

But in Qinyan’s case, the saying had to be reversed: if one’s face is beautiful, then one’s intelligence must be even more striking. For without that intelligence, she could never have protected such beauty.

Growing up in the brothel, Qinyan’s wit and scheming were of a different order entirely. Compared to her, Zhao Tingting’s provocations were nothing but a child’s game. Qinyan did not care, nor was she interested in petty squabbles. The wars between women were usually started by men. If a woman started a war that dragged men into conflict, it was called “the calamity of beauty.” But if a man caused women to fight, it was called “overwhelming charm.”

And so, it all came down to the fault of women.

As for Zhao Jin, the one of overwhelming charm, ever since Qinyan entered, he vanished. Others said he had gotten into great trouble and was punished by the Manor Lord, confined somewhere. But where, no one knew. Qinyan did not know, nor did she care. Days passed unhurriedly, half a year went by. Qinyan grew plumper on the good food of the Sword-Casting Manor, changing from thin to full.

On the surface, she seemed carefree. But in truth, she had been seeking a way out all this time. Ever since entering, Yu Hanjun had truly given up, never disturbing her again. Their ties were fully severed.

Qinyan had asked Xiao Hui many times how to leave, but Xiao Hui did not understand: “Miss, why do you want to leave? Is it not good here? Many of my sisters from the same hometown would dream of coming here.”

As it turned out, Xiao Hui had come here ten years ago. At that time, her homeland had been struck by flood. Countless people were left destitute. With no way to live, poor families sold their children. By chance, the Sword-Casting Manor came to purchase maids. Dozens of little girls lined up, but only two were chosen. Xiao Hui was one of the lucky two.

Qinyan helplessly explained: “I don’t want to stay here forever. I want to see the world outside.” As she spoke, her heart was filled with sorrow. From birth until now, her life had always been controlled by others. How she longed to have her own choice.

But Xiao Hui did not understand. To her, eating and clothing well was enough.

From Xiao Hui’s mouth, Qinyan learned that leaving was not easy. The manor was heavily guarded. Ordinary servants could only leave with orders to purchase supplies and with a waist token. But Qinyan’s identity was too unusual—she was not servant, not master, merely a “female guest” Zhao Jin had brought back.

Thus, the idea of leaving on her own was dashed. She could only hope Zhao Jin would release her, like a child tossing aside a toy when bored. But Zhao Jin was not that type. He seemed to have entirely forgotten her existence.

Qinyan asked Xiao Hui: “Where is Zhao Jin?”
Xiao Hui answered: “After the young master returned, the Manor Lord sent him to the Furnace, and he has not come out since.”

The Furnace was where the manor forged blades. The place was unbearably hot, magma flowing beneath the ground. It was said only weapons forged by magma could be truly exceptional. But the environment was torturous—even ordinary smiths could barely endure. Why would the delicate Zhao Jin go there?

Qinyan did not know, nor did she want to ask.

And so, half a year of quiet days passed. Even Zhao Tingting grew tired of troubling Qinyan. Every day, apart from eating and sleeping, Qinyan stared at the five-zhang walls, dazed. She wished she could turn into a bird, spread her wings, and fly away. Or become a fish, slip down the river.

That night, she stared at a tub of hot water, and like a fish, she held her breath and sank herself inside. She savored the bubbling sounds of water swallowing all, as though she had truly become a fish, already free.

Suddenly, she felt a powerful hand pull her out of the tub. Startled, she wiped her eyes and saw before her the man she had not seen for half a year—Zhao Jin.

He gripped her arm tightly, asking angrily: “What are you doing, trying to drown yourself?”
Qinyan ignored her nakedness, forcing calm: “I was only bathing.” As she spoke, she sized up this man she had not seen. His beard was unkempt, his skin much darker, his nails filled with black powder, and his body carried a faint smell of sulfur.

Qinyan tried to pull away her arm, but Zhao Jin did not release. She had to say: “If you do not let go, I will catch cold.”
Only then did Zhao Jin release her. Qinyan shyly crouched back into the tub. She thought he would leave, but unexpectedly, he gazed at her without shame. After a long time, Zhao Jin finally said: “The moment I came out, I came to see you.”

Qinyan did not understand his words.
Zhao Jin gave a bitter smile, then changed his expression: “I heard that Zhao Tingting gave you much trouble these months.”
Qinyan tried to block her body with the water: “Oh, the cousin. It was nothing. I rather liked her.”
Zhao Jin was puzzled: “She troubled you, yet you liked her?”
“I like people without schemes, simple. And it was too boring here. Having someone to talk to was fun.”
“You are blaming me for not accompanying you?”
“No, that was not my meaning.” Qinyan clung to the tub’s edge. “Young Master Zhao, you already got what you wanted. Can you not let me go free?”

Zhao Jin’s expression changed—anger, sorrow, helplessness. Suddenly he yanked Qinyan from the tub. With a splash of water, she was like a slippery fish falling into his arms.
“Why?” Zhao Jin gnashed his teeth. “Do you know what price I paid for you? I was punished to labor in the Furnace for half a year because of you—yet you wish to leave?”

A trace of fear flashed on Qinyan’s face, but the next instant, she glared back fiercely: “The price you speak of—you brought it upon yourself. Without you, I might live better. You did not suffer for me, you only pay for your own willfulness.”

Zhao Jin was enraged, his chest heaving. The two stared at each other, neither yielding. A minute passed before Zhao Jin suddenly sneered: “I am truly a fool, quarreling with you.” Then, he carried Qinyan to the bed, stripping off his own clothes.