Sister, Please Have Some Self-Respect, I'm Your Sister-in-Law - Chapter 16

Scholar Zhang had invited Song Qingshuang to admire the autumn foliage, but she politely declined, citing “pressing household affairs.”

Undeterred, Scholar Zhang, seemingly a master of perseverance, enlisted an intermediary with connections to the Song family to persuade her. His message, veiled in hints, implied that refusing the invitation would tarnish the honor of both families.

Madam Song, easily swayed by such appeals to family reputation, wavered. She summoned Song Qingshuang and gently urged her:

“Qingshuang, Scholar Zhang… well, he may have been a bit improper last time, but he’s still a scholar, and the Zhang family is respectable. Since he keeps inviting you, refusing repeatedly might make it seem like our Song family is lacking in courtesy. Why not… just go through the motions and make an appearance?”

Song Qingshuang sat upright, her expression cool and detached. She merely frowned slightly at her mother’s words, remaining silent.

Beside them, Lin Yuehe, who had been listening intently to every word, bristled. “Mother!” She darted forward, her face contorted with feigned concern. “That’s completely wrong! Precisely because Scholar Zhang is a scholar, he should understand the strict boundaries between men and women, and the need to avoid suspicion!”

Ignoring Eldest Sister’s wishes and persistently pestering her—was that the behavior of a gentleman?

Moreover, Sunset Mountain was remote and difficult to reach. What if… what if something unexpected happened, like slipping on a slippery path or being struck by something? What then?”

As she spoke, she glanced meaningfully out the window, as if monsters might leap out at any moment.

Madam Song was left somewhat dazed by her daughter’s barrage of words.

Song Qingshuang watched Lin Yuehe’s anxious demeanor, wracking her brain for excuses as if facing a great enemy. She found it both amusing and slightly warm.

Naturally, she didn’t want to go on this boring date, so she followed Lin Yuehe’s lead and calmly said:

“Mother, Yuehe’s concerns aren’t unfounded. I’ve been busy lately, verifying the year-end accounts for the estate. I simply can’t spare the time.

As for the Zhang family, let’s decline their invitation. We can send a generous gift to fulfill the proper courtesies.”

Seeing her eldest daughter’s firm stance, Madam Song glanced at Lin Yuehe, who wore an expression that said, “I’m just telling the truth.” She sighed. “Very well. I’ll yield to your wishes.”

The crisis was temporarily averted, and Lin Yuehe breathed a sigh of relief. Yet a lingering irritation remained.

This Zhang Wencai was like sticky cowhide candy—impossible to shake off!

She needed to teach him a profound lesson to completely extinguish his hopes.

Lin Yuehe began her “Sister Protection Operation” with the second step: a precise strike.

She learned that Zhang Wencai had a habit of reading in the pavilion of his backyard after lunch and that he cherished his newly made Hangzhou silk robe.

A “shameless” but effective plan took shape in her mind.

One afternoon, the sunlight was perfect.

As expected, Zhang Wencai was in the pavilion, book in hand, swaying as he recited, occasionally smoothing his pale moon-white robe, a rather affected pose.

Lin Yuehe struggled to hide herself in the branches of a large locust tree outside the Zhang family’s backyard, clutching a handful of specially ripened, plump, and glossy grains of millet.

She aimed at the branch extending over the pavilion, concentrating her thoughts.

[Golden Finger Big Brother, help me again. Make this branch… instantly grow the sweetest fruit to attract the most birds.]

Ideally, birds with particularly efficient digestion.

The previously bare branch seemed to fast-forward through time, rapidly sprouting tender leaves and clusters of vibrant red, fragrant berries.

Almost instantly, the sudden “feast” drew sparrows, magpies, and even a few bold crows that had been eyeing the Zhang family’s backyard from afar. They swooped in with a flurry of wings, jostling for a perch on the branches and pecking at the berries.

Zhang Wencai, standing beneath the pavilion, was reading the line “The turtledoves coo, on the river’s islet” with pride when he suddenly heard a commotion above him, accompanied by small fruit pits and debris falling.

He looked up in confusion—

The moment he did, a crow, engrossed in feasting, perhaps because the berries were too delicious or its digestion too efficient, released a warm, moderately runny, black-and-white streak of bird excrement. Accelerating under gravity, it landed squarely on Zhang Wencai’s smooth forehead with a plop before sliding down to leave a vivid, “bold” streak across the front of his precious pale blue silk robe.

Zhang Wencai felt a chill on his forehead, followed by an indescribable stench invading his nostrils.

He instinctively touched his forehead, feeling something sticky… When he saw what was on his fingers and glanced down at the “masterpiece” on his chest, his face rapidly cycled through shades of white to red, then red to blue, before finally turning deathly pale.

“Aah—!!!” A shrill scream, filled with terror and fury, shattered the tranquility of Zhang Manor’s rear courtyard.

Up in the tree, Lin Yuehe clamped her mouth shut, shaking with laughter as tears streamed down her face.

Zhang Wencai jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, frantically wiping at the mess, only to make it worse. His flustered, disheveled appearance was utterly satisfying to watch.

Serves him right for pestering Sister Qingshuang, Lin Yuehe silently scoffed to herself. Taking advantage of the commotion among the Zhang family servants, she nimbly slipped down the tree and vanished, mission accomplished.

That evening, Song Zhiyuan returned from outside and shared the latest gossip with Lin Yuehe in a conspiratorial tone:

“Comrade, have you heard? Scholar Zhang must have offended the birds or something. This afternoon, while studying in his family’s courtyard, he got hit with a perfectly aimed bird dropping!

His new clothes were ruined, and he was so furious he kept shouting about being “a disgrace to scholarly dignity.” He’s holed up at home now, too ashamed to show his face!”

Lin Yuehe was embroidering a new hand warmer for Song Qingshuang. She didn’t even look up, her voice calm and detached, as if the story had nothing to do with her:

“Oh? Really? That’s unfortunate. It seems even the birds can’t stand his scheming.”

But the slight upward curve of her lips betrayed the pride she was trying so hard to suppress.

After the “bird dropping incident,” Scholar Zhang was too ashamed and angry to leave home for days. The Zhang family also went quiet, stopping their attempts to send over marriage proposals to Song Manor.

Lin Yuehe felt a surge of satisfaction, walking with a spring in her step. She felt like she had rid the world of a pest and earned herself a great merit.

One day, humming a little tune, Lin Yuehe was tending to her ever-expanding “experimental field,” trying to grow lavender, a plant said to help with sleep. She planned to make sachets and give them to Song Qingshuang.

Song Zhiyuan wandered over again, but instead of his usual excitement, a worried look clouded his face.

“Comrade,” he said, plopping down on the field ridge and sticking a blade of foxtail grass in his mouth, “something serious has happened!”

Lin Yuehe didn’t even look up. “What now? Did Physician Su refuse to see you at the clinic?”

“Not exactly…” Song Zhiyuan scratched his head. “In a few days, some scholars and students in the city are organizing a ‘Chrysanthemum Poetry Gathering,’ and they invited Physician Su too. I heard Zhang Wencai will be there!”

Lin Yuehe’s hands froze mid-motion. She looked up, her brow furrowing. “What is he up to now? Does he plan to steal the limelight at the gathering and repair his image?”

“Who knows?” Song Zhiyuan shrugged, his lips twisting in frustration.

“But I’m definitely going,” he added. “This is a perfect chance to show off my talents to Physician Su. Plus, I can keep an eye on Zhang Wencai to stop him from pulling any more tricks—or worse, badmouthing me to Physician Su!”

The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed, and a sudden sense of impending crisis overwhelmed him.

Lin Yuehe, observing his warlike demeanor, couldn’t resist teasing him:

“You? Show off your talents? Are you sure you won’t ‘demonstrate’ how you mixed up ‘Quiet Night Thoughts’ with ‘Spring Dawn’ instead?”

(Note: This was a playful exaggeration, not a comment on Song Zhiyuan’s actual cultural knowledge, but rather Lin Yuehe’s typical banter.)

Song Zhiyuan choked on his words, stiffening his neck in defiance. “Give a man three days, and he’ll be unrecognizable! I’ve… I’ve been working hard lately!”

Truthfully, he had been cramming 300 Tang Poems and The Book of Rhymes at the last minute.

“Fine, fine,” Lin Yuehe said, too lazy to argue further. She stroked her chin, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “But… a poetry gathering… with so many eyes around… it’s only natural for ‘accidents’ to happen, right?”

Seeing her mischievous expression, Song Zhiyuan knew she was up to something again. His spirits instantly perked up as he leaned in, lowering his voice. “Comrade, what ‘ingenious plan’ do you have this time? Are you planning to make Zhang Wencai’s pants split in public again, or make his brush spray ink?”

Lin Yuehe rolled her eyes at him. “Can’t you think of something a little more sophisticated? That’s too obvious. We want it to look natural, like a coincidence!”

She glanced around her vegetable garden, her gaze settling on a few particularly vigorous plants with small white flowers. A mischievous smile curled her lips.

“Like… making him break out in an inexplicable itch all over, or making him sneeze nonstop so he can’t concentrate on his poetry. What do you think?”

Song Zhiyuan followed her gaze, recognized the plants, and gasped.

“Nettles?! Ally, you’re ruthless, but… I like it.”

He could already imagine Zhang Wencai making a fool of himself at the Chrysanthemum Poetry Gathering, and he chuckled mischievously.

“But this stuff is hard to control,” Song Zhiyuan said, worry creeping back into his voice. “What if we accidentally hurt Physician Su or someone else?”

“Don’t worry,” Lin Yuehe said confidently, patting her chest. “I know my limits. I guarantee precise ‘delivery’, targeted only at the intended victim.”

Golden Finger Big Brother, we’re counting on you when the time comes! Targeted effects, localized impact!

As Lin Yuehe and Song Zhiyuan whispered their secret plan, Song Qingshuang approached slowly from the covered walkway, accompanied by her maid Qiuyun.

Lin Yuehe quickly smoothed her calculating expression into an innocent, obedient look. She stood up and greeted, “Eldest Sister!”

Song Qingshuang’s gaze swept over the garden, now less like a vegetable patch and more like a miniature plant kingdom. Her eyes finally settled on Lin Yuehe’s face, which was strained with the effort of appearing innocent.

She had noticed the pair huddled together, whispering intently from a distance. Her brother looked excited, while his sister-in-law’s eyes darted about—clearly, they weren’t discussing anything innocent.

“What are you two so engrossed in?” Song Qingshuang asked, her tone calm and emotionless.

“N-nothing!” Lin Yuehe and Song Zhiyuan answered in unison, waving their hands in unison. Their stiff smiles were identical.

Song Qingshuang glanced between them, understanding dawning in her eyes. She shook her head helplessly. These two are hopeless…

She didn’t expose them outright. Instead, her gaze lingered on the particularly vigorous-looking nettles growing by Lin Yuehe’s feet. After a pause, she casually remarked:

“The flowers and plants in the garden are lovely, but some have thorns or are slightly toxic. You must be careful when tending to them so you don’t hurt yourself.”

Lin Yuehe’s heart skipped a beat, and she nodded vigorously. “Yes, Eldest Sister. I’ll be careful.”

Could Sister Qingshuang have noticed something?

No way. She’s probably just being considerate as usual.

Song Qingshuang didn’t say more and turned to leave.

But as she turned, the corners of her lips curved slightly. This girl’s thoughts are written all over her face, and she thinks she’s hiding them so well.

Watching Song Qingshuang walk away, Lin Yuehe and Song Zhiyuan both breathed sighs of relief.

“That was scary! I thought Eldest Sister had found out,” Song Zhiyuan said, patting his chest.

“Guilty conscience of a thief!” Lin Yuehe shot him a glare, then clenched her fists, her determination burning. “Whatever, we can’t fail at the Chrysanthemum Poetry Gathering. We have to utterly humiliate that Zhang Wencai and crush his arrogance once and for all.”

Thus, a joint operation—partly to “protect Sister’s reputation” and partly to “win the favor of her beloved”—was about to quietly unfold under the scheming of the Song family’s two “theatrical geniuses.”

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