Xie Ci · Chat

On an autumn afternoon, you passed by a teahouse and thought of heading upstairs for a quiet moment, only to freeze at the landing of the stairs. You saw Xie Ci. He was sitting by a second-floor window with a cup of tea before him. The tea had already grown cold, untouched. Sitting across from him was a young lady—you recognized her as the third daughter of the Li family, bright and vivacious, her lively spirit shining through her expressions as she spoke. She was smiling and saying something to him, while Xie Ci tilted his head slightly to listen, the faint trace of a polite smile curving his lips. It was a gentle, courteous, impeccable smile, exactly the same as the one he gave you every time you met. You did not step forward. You merely stood hidden in the shadows of the staircase, peering through the gaps between the folding screens to watch them. You told yourself it was nothing—Xie Ci was acquainted with many noble daughters; he had always been gentle and treated everyone with the same courtesy. Yet your feet felt nailed to the floorboards; you couldn't move forward, nor could you turn and leave. You heard the dull, heavy thudding of your own heartbeat, one slow beat after another. Then, the young lady's voice reached your ears. Her voice wasn't loud, carrying a trace of maidenly bashfulness mingled with reckless courage: "Young Master Xie... I know you are already betrothed, but I still wanted you to know—my feelings for you are no less than anyone else's." She paused, her voice dropping lower, tinged with a slight tremor. "I also know that your engagement originally belonged to your elder brother. She is merely... merely inherited. If you are unwilling, you do not have to force yourself." You couldn't catch what followed. A ringing sensation filled your ears, as if something had detonated within your mind. You stood frozen, your fingertips turning icy. *"She is merely inherited"*—those words pierced like a needle, sinking deep into the softest, most vulnerable corner of your heart. So that was how others defined it. It wasn't that you had chosen Xie Ci, nor had Xie Ci chosen you; you were merely a relic left behind by his brother, a piece of baggage casually passed along. You should leave. Standing here eavesdropping was unseemly. Yet your feet refused to budge. Drawn by some inexplicable impulse, you wanted to see Xie Ci's reaction—what would he say? How would he answer? Xie Ci fell silent for a moment. The silence dragged on so long that the air itself seemed to freeze. Then he spoke, his voice as gentle as ever, yet lower than usual, as if the words were being slowly ground out from deep within his throat: "I am humbled and unworthy of Miss Li's generous affection. As for the betrothal, it is an agreement forged between our two families; I would not dare speak out of turn." He didn't say a single word in your defense, nor did he clear his own name. He merely used a flawless, polite platitude to shut out every possibility. The young lady's eyes reddened. Lowering her head, she murmured a quiet "Pardon my intrusion," before rising to leave in a hurry. As she passed the top of the stairs, she nearly collided with you—she looked up, froze upon recognizing your face, and the surprise on her features melted into a complicated sort of understanding. Without a word, she hurried down the stairs with her head bowed. You remained standing where you were, separated from Xie Ci by a few tables, several screens, and a window filled with autumn sunlight. He hadn't seen you yet. He remained seated in the exact same posture, his gaze fixed motionlessly on the cold cup of tea before him. After a long time, he lifted a hand and picked up the teacup, intending to take a sip, only to realize the tea had gone completely cold. Looking down at the cold liquid, he neither set it down nor drank it, simply holding it in his hand. You noticed his fingertips gently stroking the rim of the cup—a slow, tender motion, as if caressing something he couldn't bear to let go of. Then he set the cup down and lowered his gaze, the faint smile from earlier long gone. He sat there bathed in the autumn sunlight slanting across his side, casting contrasting patterns of light and shadow across his face. His profile was handsome, yet it was devoid of all expression—not cold, but completely blank, like an empty shell stripped of all emotion. Watching him, a sharp, bitter ache suddenly gripped your chest. You couldn't tell who the ache was for—for Miss Li, who had fled with reddened eyes; for the man sitting by the window dazed over a cup of cold tea; or for yourself, who could only be referred to as "inherited" whenever spoken of. Drawing a deep breath, you lightened your steps and prepared to turn and leave— The instant you turned, your foot landed on a loose floorboard, letting out a faint creak. The sound was soft, yet startlingly distinct in the quiet teahouse. You froze. You saw his shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly—he didn't turn around immediately, but he knew. He knew you were there. He sat in his seat without moving, without looking back, but his fingers around the cold teacup tightened slightly. You stood at the top of the stairs, unsure whether to stay or go. After a long silence—so long you thought he might pretend not to have heard and let you leave in peace—he finally spoke. He did not look back, his voice so quiet it was nearly lost in the wind outside the window: "You heard everything." It wasn't a question. After speaking, he fell silent for a moment, then lowered his head to look at the cold tea in his hand. His voice dropped even lower, as if speaking only to himself: "...Perhaps it is for the best." The autumn breeze drifted in, cool and crisp, making your eyes sting faintly. Standing at the landing of the teahouse stairs, watching the passersby come and go, you suddenly didn't know where you were supposed to go.