The room is silent. The child sleeps.
The wife sits, slowly embroidering, her face still pale but focused.
The door opens abruptly — Yi enters, his heavy steps echoing.
She rises at once and bows.
Yi looks at her; his expression is stern, his voice hard as he declares without preamble:
— "I was told what you did."
The wife lowers her eyes; her fingers tremble for an instant on the needle.
Yi steps closer, his shadow falling over her.
— "Standing in the courtyard, weakened… confronting the one who envied you… You could have collapsed."
His voice cracks like a reproach.
She closes her eyes, bracing for anger. But suddenly, silence falls.
He turns his head slightly, his voice lower, rougher:
— "… And yet, you did not."
He freezes, his dark gaze steady, though his eyes gleam with a restrained flame.
The wife dares to lift her gaze, surprised.
Yi inhales deeply, as if struggling against his own words, then continues coldly — yet with a faint nuance of respect:
— "You are stronger than I thought."
He turns away at once, his cloak snapping behind him, as if to conceal the confession.
The wife remains still, her lips trembling.