Li Shiyi had seen all kinds of strange matters, but had never before raised a cat, and didn’t know how the small, snow-white ball that had coiled around her heels now laid at a distance, the ball of feathers and the dried fish both entirely lacking appeal; but that cat’s paws scratched one’s heart severely, causing one to both hurt and yearn, yet unwilling to let it be free. This cat was called “worry about personal gains and losses”. It had been raised by Song Shijiu, and been placed in Li Shiyi’s courtyard. The cat’s paws scratched late into the night, scratching til Li Shiyi abandoned three sheets of fine, xuan writing paper, [1] and only then did A Yin’s knocking open Song Shijiu’s door. She gazed at Song Shijiu’s hair, spilling over her back, which, its bun having been loosened, was faintly curly; in the past, when her hair was curly, it was like an elaborate toy figurine; she didn’t know if it was because losing weight had revealed the sharp angles, but unexpectedly, the few str...

Only on seeing Song Shijiu did A Yin and A Luo understand Li Shiyi’s meaning. She had closed herself into the room, and she only opened the door after A Yin knocked on it for a long time with a great deal of patience, and her current appearance caused one to be very apprehensive. It seemed as if she’d aged some more once again; large almond eyes turned up at the ends, the clear lines of her lashes, her high nose, and her mouth, equally inappropriate. What caused one apprehension wasn’t, in fact, her magnificent, full appearance, but her thin, weak, wan body; her prominent cheekbones had lost their original plump softness; the centre of her collarbones had sunk in, and her hands, grasping the door, were slender and fine, and the joint between her wrist and thumb had thinned to a distinct hollow. She had placed her own, clearly diminished body into a loose nightgown, and her even, long hair fell to her waist, her appearance like a demon as she stood, backlit in shadows. What was even str...

Li Shiyi had given A Yin a strong medicine; A Yin only realised it once she had woken. So, she had no choice but to accept, going in circles, that Li Shiyi was still the one who understood her the most; if it wasn’t her who had scared her into fleeing in defeat, it would probably have been a great many years before A Yin would have uttered this phrase. She laid on A Luo’s arm, and said, “I don’t want to like Li Shiyi anymore.” From childhood to adulthood, in the course of her quarrelling with Li Shiyi, Li Shiyi usually didn’t speak, allowing her to vent her feelings hysterically; not even if she was hurt would she coax her, nor would her cool gaze glace at her if she cried; she would wait until she had scolded her to her heart’s content, and then use a retreat to advance with a couple sharp phrases. Oftentimes, A Yin herself would feel that it was without meaning, and would weep and wail endlessly like a woman with a grudge, losing face all the way up to her grandmother’s family. After...

Translator's note: A lovely friend helped me figure out how to properly link footnotes, so I'll be slowly going back through previous chapters and linking them properly. My apologies for the period that I wasn't able to figure out how to do that - When A Yin pushed the door open and entered, there was only a little bit of chaotically scattered light, which floated from the bed and flew out through the wide open glass window. A Luo laid on her side on the large, Western-style mahogany bed, fingers strewn at random n the air, the stream of light from the jade butterfly of just previously remaining. She had never seen the spirited A Yin cut such a sorry figure before; her hands were wrapped around her night gown-covered waist, and the colouration on her face had collapsed into confusion, the grandness of days past gone, withered as if it were trampled-on bok choy. The bok choy lifted her gaze to her, her eyes still restraining the lustrousness of cabbage, and impolitely sat do...

Song Shijiu was a bit dizzy; before her were Li Shiyi’s lips, like silk paintings, and in her breaths, it seemed like there was still the tenderness of lips and teeth; as she remembered the aftertaste of Li Shiyi’s kiss, she placed her bracelet against her slim neck. Just then, when she’d risen, she’d just had a bit of dizziness, yet Li Shiyi, without allowing explanation, had knocked her horizontal and embraced her, still carrying her as they left the temple; her hands were probably very sore, yet she still wasn’t willing to let her go, only crouching down and making her lay against her back, keeping silent the entire way as she carried her on her back down the mountain. She felt that Li Shiyi had a degree of hard to part with tenderness towards her; in the past, this tenderness had been sealed by dignified excuses; just now, Li Shiyi was in a helpless state of agitation, and it had gradually wrapped around her. Song Shijiu tilted her head, leaning it contentedly against her shoulder,...

Li Shiyi uncrossed her long legs, and hurriedly followed after.  The street was incredibly chilly, the small shops’ doors closed tightly; the road ahead was dim and misty, the depths of night revealing heavy flagstones, and intermittently, there was the sound of bicycle bells. Yun Niang, lifting up her skirt, got into a rickshaw, which drove joltingly towards the outside of the city. Li Shiyi, without the slightest hesitation, called a rickshaw along with Song Shijiu, and, gazing forwards, said quietly, “Follow at a distance.” Her hand rested casually on the hand-rest at the side, which was ice-cold and gave off the scent of rust, and she paused, then grasped it a bit more firmly. The darkness was always able to magnify one’s true, inferior nature, and in the past, it was the rickshaw drivers, most in touch with the common people, who were exhausted by periods of misery and oppression, the strength of their legs weakening and their motions growing tired, terrifying people as if the...