Sister, Please Have Some Self-Respect, I'm Your Sister-in-Law - Chapter 8

Ever since the family banquet, Lin Yuehe had noticed a subtle shift in Song Qingshuang’s demeanor toward her, a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

This newfound closeness wasn’t expressed through effusive words but rather through subtle actions: a tacit acceptance and inclusion.

For instance, when Lin Yuehe visited the study, Song Qingshuang no longer treated her with detached formality. Occasionally, she would ask Lin Yuehe to grind ink or, when asked for guidance, explain things with greater patience and detail.

One morning, Lin Yuehe harvested tender, spiky cucumbers and vibrant red tomatoes from the garden, chilling them in well water.

She sliced the cucumbers into thin, even strips and the tomatoes into delicate rounds, arranging them on a white porcelain plate. She then prepared a small dish of refreshing vinegar dressing.

Knowing Song Qingshuang often rose early and enjoyed a quiet moment by the garden pavilion before attending to household matters, Lin Yuehe carried the plate of chilled vegetables and quietly made her way there.

The morning light was still dim, and a thin mist lingered, carrying the damp, earthy scent of plants.

As expected, Song Qingshuang sat on a stone bench by the pond, gazing at the newly blooming water lilies with a distant, unfocused expression, lost in thought.

She wore a simple, moon-white silk gown, her face bare of makeup, her dark hair loosely coiled. This softened her usual cool demeanor, revealing a hint of vulnerability.

Lin Yuehe approached softly, careful not to disturb the tranquil moment.

“Eldest Sister,” she called softly.

Song Qingshuang snapped out of her reverie, turning to see Lin Yuehe approaching with a tray. Her gaze fell on the plate of vibrant red and green vegetables, a refreshing sight that seemed to awaken the senses. She nodded slightly. “So early?”

“The fruits and vegetables in the garden are fresh. I thought something light and refreshing would be a good way to start the day,” Lin Yuehe replied, gently placing the tray on the stone table.

She sat down beside Song Qingshuang and handed her a pair of chopsticks, her eyes filled with anticipation. “Would you like to try some, Eldest Sister?”

Song Qingshuang took the chopsticks, picked up a crisp, jade-green cucumber strip, dipped it in the sauce, and brought it to her lips.

The cucumber was crisp and juicy, chilled by well water and tinged with the tartness of vinegar, awakening her taste buds.

She then tasted a slice of tomato. The sweet juice burst in her mouth, dispelling the last vestiges of morning drowsiness.

“Very good,” she said, setting down her chopsticks and turning to Lin Yuehe. “You have a knack for preparing these dishes.”

Lin Yuehe’s heart seemed to fill with honey at the compliment. Joy danced in her eyes and at the corners of her lips, though she tried to restrain herself, smiling demurely. “I’m glad you like it, Eldest Sister.”

Noticing Song Qingshuang’s thin clothing, Lin Yuehe couldn’t help but gently remind her, “The morning dew is heavy, and the breeze by the water is cool. You should put on an outer robe, Eldest Sister, to avoid catching a chill.”

Her concern was natural and sincere, devoid of any flattery or ulterior motives.

Song Qingshuang paused slightly at her words, then a faint smile curved her lips.

“Okay, I understand,” she replied, her voice softer than usual.

In Song Qingshuang’s eyes, Lin Yuehe was an ideal sister-in-law: clever, gentle, sincere, and devoted to Zhiyuan (or so she believed). She admired Lin Yuehe’s intelligence and resilience, and appreciated her thoughtful care.

As for Lin Yuehe’s unusual attentiveness and affection, Song Qingshuang attributed it to her early loss of parents, lack of familial warmth, and sudden marriage into an unfamiliar environment. She reasoned that Lin Yuehe, being several years younger and less educated, naturally saw her as a reliable and approachable elder sister.

She never dared to consider any other possibility. In this world, the bond between women, especially sisters-in-law, could only be deep sisterly affection. How could there be anything more?

The two sat quietly by the pavilion, enjoying light refreshments and occasional soft conversation. Lin Yuehe often asked about the habits of flowers and plants or classical allusions, and Song Qingshuang patiently explained.

A morning breeze stirred the pond’s surface, and time seemed to slow to a gentle pace.

“Oh, right,” Song Qingshuang said, as if suddenly remembering something. She retrieved a pale green silk knotwork tassel from her sleeve, attached to a plain white jade safety pendant, and handed it to Lin Yuehe.

“I noticed the tassel on your pouch was worn the other day. I made this new one in my spare time. The pendant symbolizes peace and good fortune. You can have it.”

The knot was exquisitely crafted, its silk threads woven in understated colors that perfectly complemented Lin Yuehe’s usual attire.

Lin Yuehe froze, her gaze fixed on the knot and jade pendant resting in Song Qingshuang’s pale palm. A sharp ache swelled in her chest.

This was the first time Song Qingshuang had ever given her something unprompted!

Her hands trembled as she carefully accepted the gift, clutching the jade pendant, still warm from Song Qingshuang’s touch, tightly in her palm. Her voice choked with emotion as she spoke:

“Thank you, Eldest Sister. I love it… I really love it!”

She looked up, her eyes rimmed with red, the starlight within them threatening to spill over.

Song Qingshuang, taken aback by her intense reaction, assumed Lin Yuehe simply cherished the object or appreciated the sentiment behind it. She smiled gently.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s just a little thing.”

To Song Qingshuang, this might have been a simple gesture of care from an elder to a younger, a sister to her sister.

But to Lin Yuehe, this seemingly insignificant “little thing” represented Song Qingshuang’s reciprocation of her feelings!

Pressing the jade pendant tightly against her chest, Lin Yuehe gazed at Song Qingshuang’s elegant profile and silently vowed: It doesn’t matter if you only see me as your sister-in-law for now. As long as I can stay by your side and care for you like this, I’ll be content.

****

Autumn deepened, and the night air grew cold as water.

The study window was half-open, letting in a few strands of chilly wind that made the candle flame flicker gently.

Song Qingshuang was intently reviewing a thick ledger, her slender fingers tracing the dense columns of numbers as she occasionally jotted notes on a sheet of paper beside her.

Lost in her work, she didn’t notice the night’s chill until a gust of wind slipped down her collar, making her shiver slightly.

Almost as soon as she flinched, a soft, apricot-colored velvet shawl settled lightly over her shoulders.

Song Qingshuang startled back to awareness. She looked up to find Lin Yuehe standing beside her, leaning slightly to carefully fasten the shawl’s front clasps. Her movements were as gentle as if handling a fragile porcelain piece.

The candlelight cast fan-like shadows from Lin Yuehe’s lowered lashes, her expression focused and tender.

“It’s cold tonight, Eldest Sister,” Lin Yuehe murmured, her voice hushed as if afraid to disturb the room’s stillness. “You’re working so hard on the accounts. Be careful not to catch a chill.” Her concern was unmistakable.

As she fastened the shawl’s ties, her fingertips brushed against the skin of Song Qingshuang’s neck. The fleeting warmth and softness of that touch made Song Qingshuang’s heart skip a beat.

The cloak carried Lin Yuehe’s unique scent, dispelling the chill and spreading warmth from Song Qingshuang’s shoulders to her limbs.

Song Qingshuang’s fingers tightened slightly around her brush, a strange sense of comfort washing over her.

She tilted her head awkwardly, avoiding the overly intimate scent, and maintained her usual calm tone.

“It’s fine, I’m not cold. You… you should wear it yourself. There’s no need to give it to me.”

Despite her words, she made no move to remove the cloak.

Lin Yuehe straightened up, took a half-step back, and smiled gently, her eyes clear in the candlelight.

“I’m not cold. I was doing needlework inside just now and even felt a bit warm. Eldest Sister’s face is pale; you must be feeling unwell from sitting for so long.”

As she spoke, her gaze fell on the cup of tea that had long gone cold in front of Song Qingshuang. Without hesitation, she picked it up. “Cold tea is bad for your stomach. I’ll get you a fresh, hot cup.”

Before Song Qingshuang could respond, Lin Yuehe had already turned and walked briskly toward the door.

Song Qingshuang watched her retreating figure disappear through the doorway, the warmth of the cloak on her shoulders growing more distinct.

She lowered her head silently, staring at the familiar handwriting in the ledger, but her mind struggled to focus.

Lin Yuehe’s care was meticulous and all-encompassing, like a warm, soft net that enveloped her silently.

This feeling was different from the dictates of her parents, the deference of servants, and even… the sweet words of that person from long ago.

She wasn’t made of wood; she could feel this kindness.

But…

“Eldest Sister, your hot tea is here.” Lin Yuehe returned quickly, gently placing a steaming cup beside her. The fragrant aroma filled the air. “I added some red dates and goji berries. It’s perfect for warming the body and nourishing your qi and blood.”

Song Qingshuang picked up the cup, the warmth seeping into her fingertips. She took a small sip, the sweet, warm liquid sliding down her throat, and indeed felt much better.

She looked up at Lin Yuehe, who stood quietly nearby, her features soft and gentle.

“You’ve worked so hard these past few days,” Song Qingshuang said, setting down the cup. “Always worrying about these trivial matters for me.”

Lin Yuehe shook her head quickly. “It’s no trouble at all, Eldest Sister. I’m… really happy to be able to help you, even in small ways.”

As she spoke, a faint blush rose on her cheeks, as if she had revealed some deep secret. She lowered her head shyly, her fingers unconsciously twisting the sash of her robe.

Seeing Lin Yuehe’s demeanor, that subtle, strange feeling resurfaced in Song Qingshuang’s heart.

This dependence, this unrestrained concern… it seemed… almost too intense.

But she immediately suppressed the thought.

Lin Yuehe was young and had no parents to rely on. Though Zhiyuan treated her well after she married into the Song family, he was still a man, lacking the finer sensibilities.

She sees me as an older sister she can confide in and depend on, Song Qingshuang reasoned. I’m just overthinking things.

With this thought, Song Qingshuang felt relieved. Her gaze toward Lin Yuehe softened, now tinged with a sisterly affection.

“It’s getting late,” she urged gently. “You should go rest. I’ll look over these accounts for a bit longer.”

“Mm,” Lin Yuehe nodded obediently but glanced anxiously at the thick darkness outside the window. “Then Eldest Sister shouldn’t stay up too late. Take care of your eyes.”

“I will,” Song Qingshuang replied with a slight nod.

Only then did Lin Yuehe leave the study, glancing back every few steps.

The door closed softly, and silence returned to the room, broken only by the crackling of the candle and the rustling of pages as Song Qingshuang flipped through the ledgers.

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