Sister, Please Have Some Self-Respect, I'm Your Sister-in-Law - Chapter 2

The candlelight flickered gently, casting a tranquil glow across the room.

Song Zhiyuan’s face remained frozen in shock for several breaths before, as if his strength had been drained, he slid down the door and collapsed onto the floor, letting out a low, incredulous laugh.

The laughter started as a suppressed sound, tinged with disbelief, then grew louder, tinged with a manic relief.

“Ha… ha… ha… Can you believe it? Can you believe this?” Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as he laughed. He looked up at Lin Yuehe, his gaze filled with absurd delight. “I, Song Zhiyuan, forced into marriage, have actually married… a kindred spirit?”

Seeing him like this, Lin Yuehe finally dropped her last bit of caution.

She stood up, walked to the table, poured two cups of the long-cold tea, and handed one to him. “Not kindred spirits, allies. It seems we both need a partner within the Song family who won’t betray our secrets.”

Song Zhiyuan took the cup, the icy touch calming him slightly. He tilted his head back and drained the tea in one gulp, then exhaled deeply. “You’re right. Cooperation is the best choice for both of us.”

He pushed himself to his feet, straightened his slightly disheveled wedding robes, and sat down at the table, his posture now much more relaxed. “Tell me, what’s your plan? Or rather, what do you need me to do?”

“It’s simple,” Lin Yuehe said, sitting across from him. Her fingers unconsciously traced the rough edge of the teacup.

“In public, we’ll be newlyweds, treating each other with utmost respect. Behind closed doors, we’ll be allies, respecting each other’s privacy and guarding each other’s secrets. You need me to cover for you and deal with your parents, and I…” She paused, her gaze sweeping across the relatively peaceful room. “I need a place to settle down and… relative freedom.”

“Deal!” Song Zhiyuan replied decisively, even with a hint of excitement. “Rest assured, with me here, no one in the Song family will dare to mistreat you. Just tell me what you need.”

As if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he became noticeably more animated, studying Lin Yuehe with curiosity. “But I’m genuinely curious… how did you realize you… uh, don’t like men?”

Lin Yuehe glanced at him, her tone indifferent. “That’s none of your concern, Young Master Song. Just as I wouldn’t ask you about the young man who has captured your heart.”

Song Zhiyuan was momentarily taken aback. He awkwardly rubbed his nose before grinning again. “Alright, alright, no more questions. Then… ally, shall we work together from now on?”

He extended his hand in a high-five gesture, his eyes mischievous.

Lin Yuehe smiled at his childlike gesture and lightly tapped his palm. “To a successful partnership.”

****

The next morning, Lin Yuehe woke up early.

According to custom, the new bride was to serve tea to her in-laws.

Song Zhiyuan, ever the “understanding” husband, waited for her to finish dressing before they left together.

He deliberately slowed his pace to walk beside her, occasionally turning his head to whisper something with a gentle smile.

To the servants, they appeared to be a deeply affectionate newlywed couple.

Only Lin Yuehe could see his fingers tapping impatiently within his sleeve and that the smile never truly reached his eyes.

In the main hall, Landlord Song and Madam Song sat at the head of the table, their expressions relatively mild.

Song Qingshuang stood quietly to the side, still wearing her plain, unadorned dress, her face calm and serene.

Lin Yuehe lowered her lashes and respectfully served the tea. Though her etiquette wasn’t perfect, there were no major flaws to criticize.

“Rise,” Landlord Song said, taking a sip of the tea, his tone reasonably satisfied. “Now that you’ve entered the Song family, you must uphold the virtues of a wife: support your husband, raise your children, and ensure the Song family’s lineage flourishes.”

Madam Song nodded, her gaze sweeping over Lin Yuehe’s flat abdomen, her tone pointed: “Zhiyuan’s health is delicate. You must take extra care of him.”

Lin Yuehe lowered her head in feigned shyness, murmuring, “Yes, Daughter-in-law will remember.”

Yet her mind remained clear. Bearing offspring? That’s likely impossible in this lifetime.

Song Zhiyuan stepped forward at the opportune moment, offering Lin Yuehe a perfunctory support. His tone carried just the right amount of protective concern:

“Father, Mother, Yuehe is new here and unfamiliar with many of our customs. We’ll teach her gradually.”

He turned to Lin Yuehe, his eyes “tender”: “Last night… you must have been tired too. Go back and rest later.”

The implication in his words made Landlord Song and his wife exchange satisfied glances.

Lin Yuehe dutifully deepened her act of “embarrassment.”

Just then, Song Qingshuang, who had been silent until now, spoke softly, her voice like clear spring water striking jade, breaking the slightly awkward atmosphere:

“Father, Mother, the estate sent some freshly picked melons and fruits. They look quite good. Why not let our sister-in-law try them? She’s young and probably craves such things.”

Lin Yuehe’s heart leaped, and she instinctively looked up at Song Qingshuang.

Song Qingshuang’s gaze met hers, still calm and composed, yet seemed to carry a faint hint of… relief?

Had she noticed Lin Yuehe’s awkwardness?

Or was Lin Yuehe simply overthinking things?

“Eldest Sister is so thoughtful,” Lin Yuehe quickly thanked her, her voice tinged with subtle excitement.

Song Qingshuang nodded slightly and said no more.

After the tea ceremony, Song Zhiyuan was summoned to Landlord Song’s study for a discussion.

Lin Yuehe walked back alone.

As she passed through the covered corridor connecting the front and back courtyards, she spotted Song Qingshuang standing beside a half-withered hibiscus bush, her brow furrowed slightly as she whispered instructions to the estate manager.

Morning light streamed through the corridor pillars, casting a soft golden halo around her, making even her furrowed brow appear exceptionally beautiful.

Lin Yuehe’s footsteps slowed involuntarily, and she held her breath.

She watched as Song Qingshuang extended her slender fingers and gently touched the withered, curled petals, her movements tender and filled with pity.

Immediately, she withdrew her hand and instructed the butler, “Have the gardener examine it. If it can’t be saved, remove it. I don’t want to be saddened by the sight.”

Her voice was soft yet carried clearly to Lin Yuehe’s ears.

In that moment, a corner of Lin Yuehe’s heart felt a warm, ticklish sensation.

This Eldest Miss, outwardly cold, seemed to possess a remarkably tender heart.

Lin Yuehe suddenly felt an urge to approach her and offer her help, suggesting she might have a way to revive the hibiscus.

But she remained rooted to the spot.

Now wasn’t the time. She couldn’t reveal her abilities or appear too forward.

She simply stood there, watching quietly for a moment.

Only after Song Qingshuang finished giving instructions, turned, and her pale blue figure disappeared around the corridor corner did Lin Yuehe snap out of her reverie. A faint sense of inexplicable loss and a yearning to draw closer stirred within her.

She lowered her gaze to a wilted weed drooping in the crack of the corridor’s earthen floor. Her fingertips twitched slightly.

Before her eyes, the weed straightened visibly, its leaves unfurling into lush, vibrant green.

A subtle smile curved the corners of Lin Yuehe’s lips.

*****

Over the next few days, Lin Yuehe’s life in the Song family gradually settled into a routine.

She maintained a facade of harmony with Song Zhiyuan.

During the day, Song Zhiyuan mostly stayed in his study, claiming he needed to rest or read, granting Lin Yuehe considerable freedom.

Occasionally, in public, he would deliberately show concern for his new wife. For instance, after breakfast, he would say to Lin Yuehe in a gentle voice:

“The weather is lovely today. If you’re feeling bored, you can take a stroll in the garden. There’s no need to confine yourself to your room.”

His gaze was warm, his tone considerate, making anyone who witnessed their interaction believe the young couple was deeply in love.

Lin Yuehe would play along, lowering her eyelashes and curving her lips into a perfectly demure smile as she softly replied, “Thank you for your concern, Husband.”

Only she knew that this “Husband” was uttered without a trace of emotion, merely a coded signal between allies.

Her true focus lay on subtly approaching Song Qingshuang.

One crisp morning, the air felt particularly fresh, as if a light rain had fallen overnight.

Lin Yuehe rose early, completed her morning ablutions, and then, under the pretense of taking a walk, made her way to the open space behind the courtyard, near the small kitchen.

This patch of land had long been neglected, its soil poor and sparsely covered with weeds.

Lin Yuehe crouched down, pretending to admire the dew-kissed blades of grass, while her fingertips secretly brushed against the damp earth.

A few common vegetable seeds she had secretly scattered here two days ago now sprouted silently at her mental command, their tender green shoots pushing through the soil. With a slow yet astonishing speed, far exceeding natural growth rates, they began to unfurl their leaves and stretch skyward.

“Oh, Young Mistress, what are you looking at here?” A sharp voice cut through the morning air.

Lin Yuehe turned to see Old Mother Zhang, the kitchen’s procurement manager, standing there with an empty basket, sizing her up with a scrutinizing gaze tinged with barely concealed disdain.

Old Mother Zhang was a distant relative of Madam Song and held considerable influence among the servants. She showed little respect for Lin Yuehe, the Young Mistress who had come as a “lucky charm” from humble origins.

“Just taking a look around,” Lin Yuehe replied calmly, rising to her feet. “It’s a shame to leave this land idle. Wouldn’t it be fresh and convenient to grow seasonal vegetables here?”

Old Mother Zhang curled her lip, her tone dripping with mockery.

“Young Mistress, you’re unaware that this soil is barren. Nothing good will grow here.”

“We’ve tried it before,” Old Mother Zhang said, her tone dismissive. “It’s a lot of work, and the vegetables that grow are small and bitter—not worth the effort at all!”

Her meaning was clear: she thought Lin Yuehe was indulging in wishful thinking.

Lin Yuehe didn’t argue. Her gaze swept calmly over the vibrant patch of seedlings, her mind already formulating a plan.

Just then, a crisp, cool voice cut through the air: “Nanny Zhang, have you purchased the morning market ingredients yet?”

Lin Yuehe’s heart skipped a beat as she turned toward the sound.

Song Qingshuang, dressed in a moon-white gown, was approaching slowly from the covered corridor.

The faint morning light outlined her slender figure.

Her face remained expressionless as her gaze first settled on Old Mother Zhang, then, as if by chance, swept over Lin Yuehe and the patch of new greenery at her feet.

Old Mother Zhang immediately plastered on a smile and bowed deeply. “Eldest Miss, I was just about to head out! I happened to run into the Young Mistress here…”

She paused, leaving the rest unsaid, but her meaning was clear.

Song Qingshuang stepped closer, her gaze lingering on the remarkably thriving seedlings. A flicker of surprise flashed through her cool, clear eyes.

She crouched down, extending her slender, pale fingers to gently touch the vibrant, dew-kissed leaves.

“These seedlings…” She looked up at Lin Yuehe, her gaze probing. “They’re growing remarkably well.”

Her fingertips, having brushed against the dew-laden leaves, were now smudged with a trace of damp soil.

The tiny speck of dirt stood out starkly against her jade-like fingertips, yet it inexplicably made Lin Yuehe feel that this aloof Eldest Miss had gained a touch of earthly authenticity.

Lin Yuehe’s heart raced involuntarily. Striving to maintain her composure, she explained:

“Perhaps… perhaps it’s because of last night’s rain? I saw this patch of empty ground and casually scattered some seeds. I never expected them to actually sprout.”

Her tone carried just the right mix of “surprise” and uncertainty.

Song Qingshuang glanced at her, then at the seedlings, which clearly stood apart from the surrounding weeds. She remained silent for a moment.

Rising to her feet, she withdrew a plain handkerchief from her sleeve and meticulously wiped the soil from her fingertips.

Old Mother Zhang muttered from the side, “It must be just dumb luck…”

Song Qingshuang wiped her hands clean, tucked the handkerchief back into her sleeve, and calmly turned to Old Mother Zhang.

“Since these have sprouted, it must be fate. Nanny Zhang, from now on, the Young Mistress will manage this vegetable patch. Please cooperate with her needs.”

The smile on Old Mother Zhang’s face stiffened, and she awkwardly replied, “Yes, Eldest Miss.”

Having given her instructions, Song Qingshuang’s gaze returned to Lin Yuehe, her tone softening slightly.

“It’s commendable that you’re so dedicated. If you need seeds or farming tools, you can retrieve them from the storeroom, or… you can come ask me directly.”

With a slight nod to Lin Yuehe, she turned and left.

Lin Yuehe stood still, watching Song Qingshuang’s retreating figure until the pale moon-white silhouette disappeared from her sight. Only then did she slowly lower her head, gazing at her fingers, which had curled slightly from nervousness.

The speck of damp soil clinging to Song Qingshuang’s fingertip, and the deliberate, unhurried way she had wiped it away, replayed endlessly in her mind.

And that final sentence—”Just come ask me directly.”

Could this be… a legitimate reason for her to approach Song Qingshuang openly?

Lin Yuehe’s lips couldn’t help but curve into a faint smile.

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