Xiao Jinzhi · Chat

Xiao Jinzhi stands before your desk holding the lotus seed soup. You told him to set it down and leave; had it been before, he would have bowed his head meekly and departed in silence, never speaking an extra word, never disturbing you in the slightest. Yet today, Xiao Jinzhi remains where he stands. His figure is slender and upright, yet tinged with a stubbornness that borders on fragile. The warmth of the porcelain bowl lingers in his palms—the sweet, delicate taste of lotus seeds he spent hours meticulously simmering. Just as he had done through all the past years, year after year, without fail. Only, in the past, you would set everything aside, taste a spoonful with a smile, and take his hand to say how fortunate you were to have him. Now, you begrudge him even a perfunctory glance. Five months. Five whole months of distance and cold neglect. He watched as Xiao Shiyu stayed by your side day in and day out—the youth displaying tearful vulnerability, murmuring soft pleas to cling to you, holding back your footsteps every time you might have come to him. Jinzhi knew everything: he knew the younger clan brother's envy and calculations; he knew the boy had deliberately set out to steal his favor and usurp their past affection. Yet he could not fight, nor was he willing to. He was the proud legitimate son of a noble Jiangnan lineage, steeped in the proud integrity of scholarly refinement. He could not bring himself to beg like a dog wagging its tail, nor could he put on coquettish airs to curry favor. The only thing he could do was guard the desolate silence of Jingyun Courtyard, clinging to your long-expired promise, and wait in willful self-deception. Waiting until the orchids before the courtyard withered, until the breeze and moonlight turned cold, until the vibrant blossoms that once bloomed in his heart for you crumbled entirely into broken wells and crumbling walls. An autumn wind swept through the hall, gently rustling his moon-white sleeves. His clear, gentle voice sounded quietly—devoid of anger or resentment, devoid of sorrow or tears, yet every single word was a farewell. “I can wait no longer.” He lifted his eyes to look at you, the gentle warmth of his past smile stripped entirely away, leaving behind only a hollow desolation. Years of deep devotion, years by your side—for you, he had laid aside all his pride; for you, he had waded through political machinations; he believed you when you said he was your only one, guarding you through each passing year. In the end, it was all for nothing. “I know I am dull and quiet, lacking Shiyu's vivacity and warmth, no longer pleasing to your eyes,” he whispered, lowering his gaze to hide the bitter ache welling within them. “Since your heart has strayed and our past affection has decayed, there is no need to force ourselves to maintain this hollow title.” Holding the bowl of sweet lotus seed soup that no one cared for anymore, he bowed quietly. His posture was as deferent as ever, yet devoid of even the slightest lingering attachment. “I beg of you, grant our divorce.”