“You leave tomorrow?” Beneath the peach tree in the courtyard, Shen Qi frowned.
He knew Su Yan had to make another trip to Shaanxi, sometime in the third month. No matter how much one prepares mentally, when the moment of parting truly arrives, it is always hard to accept.
Su Yan nodded, taking his hand: “Don’t worry. I don’t expect this trip will take longer than the last. At the least three to five months, at the most half a year, and I’ll be back.”
Half a year after half a year—how many such half-years does life allow, spent apart with only sorrow to share? Faced with this fate of long separations and brief reunions, the two of them fell into silence.
Finding the air heavy, Su Yan tried a joke: “Why don’t you resign and come be my bodyguard?”
Shen Qi pressed the hilt of his blade, about to rise. Su Yan asked: “Where are you going?”
“To the study, to write my resignation,” Shen Qi replied.
Su Yan jumped in fright, hurriedly grabbing his arm: “I was joking! How could that be possible? You worked so hard to reach this position—”
“So what?” Shen Qi countered.
Su Yan’s expression turned grave: “Qilang, you and I both know we cannot do this.”
Of course Shen Qi knew. Resigning now would let him stay with his beloved for a while—but once they returned to the capital? There was still a long official road ahead. Without sufficient standing, how could he and Qinghe possibly support each other amidst the blades and frosts of the court?
Su Yan’s concern was this: “All the great cases you’ve handled, the enemies you’ve made—once you fall from power, they will smell blood. The rest of your life would never know peace.
“And besides, with you at the helm of the Northern Surveillance Bureau of the Embroidered Guards, things are far cleaner than before. Though interrogations may sometimes be severe, there are no upside-down injustices or false cases anymore. If you resign, and another like Feng Qu’e takes your place, the ones to suffer will be the people and officials.”
Shen Qi lowered his eyes, thought for a moment, then said: “In the present situation, neither of us can retreat. Those who speak of timely retreat do so because they can still reach the shore. But if we fall back now, we’ll only be shattered by the onrushing torrent.”
Su Yan sighed: “Then it seems we can only face the current together.”
Shen Qi caught his fingers in his palm, kneading the soft flesh of his fingertips as if playing with a cat’s paw. Su Yan, ticklish, tried to pull away, but was firmly held.
“Hand in hand, together till old age.” Shen Qi’s voice was steady.
Su Yan blushed, then suddenly his color drained. Something weighed on him. He hesitated, but at last, resolved not to hide: “Yesterday His Majesty came in disguise on a private visit…”
Before he could finish, Shen Qi shot to his feet, face blank: “I suddenly recalled an urgent matter of state. I’ll take my leave. I’ll come early tomorrow to see you off.”
Su Yan instinctively clutched his sleeve: “Qilang! Let’s talk inside.”
“…Which room?” Shen Qi asked. “The one you received His Majesty in?”
Su Yan’s face went white.
The words left Shen Qi’s mouth and he regretted them instantly—as though in this world anyone could refuse an imperial summons and still keep his head!
Qinghe held one end of the rope, while the other was tied to imperial power itself, unfathomable schemes, coaxing and coercion alike, and a relentless siege of the heart. Even if he truly wished to resist, how long could he hold out?
If he could not even protect the one he loved, what right had he to reproach the other’s faltering after a desperate struggle?
“This tug-of-war—the strength on both sides is worlds apart. If you exhaust yourself and still lose, I won’t blame you.” Was that a lie he told himself, or genuine understanding and pain?
Shen Qi’s eyes reddened. Gritting his teeth, he said no more.
Seeing him so, Su Yan felt endless sorrow. All his careful decisions, all his striving, could not outweigh this crushing guilt. His past vow—Even if I were moved, I would never willingly climb onto the dragon’s bed—now came back like a stinging slap across his face.
Ashamed to the extreme, Su Yan suddenly buried his head in his hands, crouching on the ground like a turtle retreating into its shell, silent.
After a long time, Shen Qi sighed, crouched down as well, letting his splendid flying-fish robe trail in the dust. He asked: “Do I still exist in your heart, as your husband?”
Su Yan did not cry, but his face was pale as if transparent. Through the peach leaves above, the sunlight pierced his hollow chest, as though to shine into his five viscera. He wanted to tear out his heart and show Shen Qi.
“Qilang,” he murmured, “tell me—why was my soul sent to this world? Why did I have to meet you all? Was it Heaven’s way of making me face my own weakness? If one day I could return… would everything here go back to the way it was meant to be?”
Where does the soul come from? Where does it return? To the Yellow Springs below, or to something vaster and more ethereal above? Shen Qi’s face changed.
He gripped Su Yan’s wrist hard, losing control: “Return where? …No, don’t say it! Heaven’s secrets cannot be revealed. I won’t force you. Just stay in this world—that’s enough. Whoever is in your heart… we’ll talk later.”
Su Yan hardly felt the pain at his wrist. His other hand cupped Shen Qi’s face. “I don’t know—if the chance to return truly appeared, would I hesitate, would I waver? But at least for every day I remain here, I cannot live in vain, nor can I betray the devotion and sacrifice you all have given me.”
Shen Qi heard the crackling of wrist bones in his grasp. At once he loosened his strength and pulled Su Yan up, sitting together on the stone bench beneath the tree, still keeping his arm around his shoulders. “Don’t leave. Otherwise, whether it’s up in the Ninth Heaven or down in the Yellow Springs, I’ll chase you to the very end!”
Su Yan lifted his gaze to the sky—ten thousand miles clear, not a single cloud in sight. Let alone a sci-fi wormhole, there wasn’t even a gust of strange wind to stir the air. He couldn’t help laughing at his own wild fantasies, shaking his head as he said: “I fear I won’t be able to leave for the rest of this life.”
Shen Qi’s heart leapt, then he heard Su Yan continue: “Do you still remember Plum Immortal Spring? From that time on, I had a feeling… there would be no going back.”
Of course Shen Qi remembered. When Su Yan had first arrived in the capital region, he had rushed over, travel-worn and weary. And it was at Plum Immortal Spring that Su Yan had, for the first time, taken the initiative to respond to his feelings… Now his beloved said that ever since that moment, he had decided to remain in the mortal world—neither returning to the underworld, nor back to the heavens… nor any other place. In short, nowhere else at all!
Unable to contain his joy, he asked: “Was it because of me?”
Su Yan countered: “What do you think—do I have you in my heart?”
Yes, but there were others too. Shen Qi smiled outwardly, though his heart sank. Hugging Su Yan close, he whispered at his ear: “Let’s go to your room.”
—Not the reception chamber, right? Su Yan rolled his eyes at him.
Shen Qi gritted his teeth: “Your husband will scrub you inside and out, until every corner of that room carries only our scent.”
Su Yan’s ears burned uncontrollably red. He slapped his arm: “In broad daylight—what nonsense are you spouting! Didn’t you say you had urgent official business to handle?”
“Did I?”
“So all that earlier was just to trick me.”
Without another word, Shen Qi pinned him against the peach tree trunk—kissing first, explanations later. Su Yan still spared a thought to check whether the two servant boys were around.
The courtyard was empty. When the two had first begun whispering and embracing under the tree, Xiaobei and Xiaojing had tactfully slipped away. At this moment, they were busy in the kitchen preparing lunch.
Su Yan was kissed until his bones melted, his legs gone weak. When he was hefted up, he pounded the other’s back: “I still need to stop by the medical hall—you… you can come back after nightfall.”
—
Inside the medical hall, Su Yan entered the treatment room. One of Chen Shiyu’s disciples, together with an apprentice boy, was changing the bandages on Ruan Hongjiao’s face.
Su Yan halted mid-step, intending out of courtesy to withdraw.
But Ruan Hongjiao called to him. “Young Master!” Her weak voice carried urgency, trembling with pain. “Doctor, please finish quickly. I want to say a few words to Lord Su.”
The physician said: “Miss, feel free to talk. Should you tear open a hole at your cheek wound, I’ll simply stitch it up again—consider it more practice for my needlework.”
Su Yan thought the tone sounded familiar. Looking closely—wasn’t this the very same middle-aged doctor who had once bandaged Shen Qi’s split wound and mocked him about ‘dead branches sprouting new shoots’?
Helpless, he cupped his hands: “Doctor, you have my thanks. I’ll only exchange a few words with Sister Ruan, and will take care not to disturb the injury.”
The doctor cupped his hands in return, then left with the apprentice and a tray of blood-soaked, medicine-stained bandages.
Su Yan stopped Ruan Hongjiao from trying to get out of bed, sitting instead on a round stool at her side. He looked at her head and face wrapped tightly in bandages, and said with sorrow and regret: “If not for me, Sister Ruan would never have been hurt. I truly…”
Ruan Hongjiao cut him off: “I did not do it solely for you, but for what I believed was right. Besides, since we privately address each other as brother and sister, why should you treat me as an outsider? As an elder sister, doing something for her younger brother—isn’t that only natural?”
Su Yan was deeply moved, and all the more concerned for her future. “But the wound is on your face… what will you do from now on? Will you return to Rouge Alley?”
Ruan Hongjiao sighed: “Even if I were willing, the madam there wouldn’t want me. I’ve thought it over: since this scar is already settled, I might as well take the chance to leave behind that life of smoke and flowers, and pass a few quiet days instead.”
“What do you mean, ‘a few days’! From now on, Sister Ruan’s affairs are mine, Su Qinghe’s, as well. I’ll propose to court that your righteous deed be commended, your base status removed, so that for the rest of your life you’ll be free from want, and no longer suffer for survival.”
Tears welled in Ruan Hongjiao’s eyes. “Thank you, my lord…”
“And another thing—you are alone, without family nearby. Leaving the place you’re used to, you may find it hard to adapt. As it happens, a few days ago I acquired the deed to a large house beside my residence. It’s been cleaned, but is still empty. Why not move in and live there?”
“I, a woman from the brothel, how could I shamelessly live in your house and ruin your reputation?”
Su Yan pretended anger: “After all my ‘elder sister, younger brother’ talk, you still refuse such a small favor? I’m soon to depart for Shaanxi. If that house sits empty any longer, snakes and rats will take it over. If you move in and bring some life to it, what harm could there be?”
Ruan Hongjiao was startled and dismayed. “You’re to be posted away again? But you just returned to the capital a few days ago!”
Su Yan comforted her for a while. At last, he persuaded her to move in for now, and wait to decide further after his return from Shaanxi.
Since the medical hall had limited space, Ruan Hongjiao wished to give up her bed for other badly injured patients. She collected a bundle of medicine personally prepared by Chen Shiyu, paid her fees, and took Su Yan’s carriage back.
Su Yan gave specific instructions to Xiaobei and Xiaojing: one was to negotiate with the madam for Ruan Hongjiao’s redemption, the other to fetch her belongings and send them to the new residence.
While he was busy arranging matters for Ruan Hongjiao, word reached Yu Wang—
That Su Yan had used a house he’d lost in a bet to keep a mistress in luxury, and that woman was none other than a courtesan beauty.
Hearing this, Yu Wang slapped the table, mounted his horse, and galloped straight to Su Residence. At the gates of the neighboring house, he saw Su Yan crouched by a small brazier, decocting medicine! Yu Wang strode forward and said: “I hear you’ve ‘taken another concubine’? I’ve come to drink your wedding wine.”
Su Yan shot him a sideways glance. “Your Highness, what nonsense. This is the sworn elder sister I recognized.”
In these times, sworn kinship was no casual matter. When close, such bonds could be as deep as blood ties. Yu Wang laughed: “So it’s eldest sister-in-law then—naturally, I should pay my respects.”
“What do you mean ‘eldest sister-in-law’! She’s got nothing to do with you, don’t go around faking kinship!” Su Yan gave Yu Wang a hard slap on the arm with his palm fan. “She’s Ruan Hongjiao—you’ve heard of her before, haven’t you?”
That night when the Crown Prince’s Disaster Relief Bureau was ambushed, Yu Wang, Shen Qi, and Su Yan had all been there. From Gao Shuo they learned the details of what happened—naturally including Ruan Hongjiao’s brave act. Knowing it was her, Yu Wang felt some respect, clapped his hands, and said: “A heroine who yields not to men. I’ll order my stewards to send medicinal herbs over, and have an imperial physician check her wounds every few days.”
Su Yan told a servant to carry the decocted medicine inside, then bowed to Yu Wang: “On behalf of my sworn sister, this official thanks Your Highness.”
Yu Wang took the opportunity to pull him toward the back garden of the estate, speaking as they walked: “You’re setting off for Shaanxi again tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“…And you don’t even say goodbye to this Wangye?”
“Didn’t Your Highness already know?”
“Hearing it from the palace is one thing. Hearing it from your own mouth—is that the same?”
Su Yan smiled: “It’s true, I should have personally bid farewell to Your Highness. It’s not too late now.”
Yu Wang’s face hardened: “Just a word, ‘farewell,’ and you think you can brush me off?”
Su Yan sighed helplessly: “Then what does Your Highness want?”
With no one around, Yu Wang suddenly veered off, dragging him into the hollow interior of a large fake mountain built of Taihu stones.
Su Yan grew wary: “What are you doing!”
“Showing you a treasure.”
“…I don’t want to see it! If it’s indecent… I warn you, Zhu Xujing, don’t try to play the rogue again!”
Yu Wang flipped aside his outer robe, and from his thigh drew out… a finely crafted miniature crossbow.
Su Yan blinked: “So that’s the ‘treasure.’”
Yu Wang sneered: “If you want to see the other, stronger one, that’s possible too.”
Su Yan spat.
“I seized this odd-shaped crossbow years ago on the battlefield, from a few Western mercenaries. They called it a scorpion crossbow.”
Indeed, with its arched body, when placed on the ground it did look a little like a scorpion.
Yu Wang said: “This scorpion crossbow has a long range, and is very accurate even at close quarters. Its power is not to be underestimated. But it’s a bit large—needs three or four men to operate. Later, I tinkered with it and made a smaller, hand-held version. One man can use it, and it doesn’t lose much in strength. Just right for you to take for self-defense.”
Su Yan loved firearms, but he also appreciated clever and efficient cold weapons. Still, this was clearly a cherished possession of Yu Wang’s; he felt it improper to accept, and shook his head: “I thank Your Highness for the kind thought. But I’ve yet to even master the bow—better let this crossbow stay with Your Highness for your own protection.”
Being refused, Yu Wang wasn’t offended. He chuckled: “You can’t use a bow, nor any of the eighteen weapons—blade, spear, sword, halberd—you can’t handle a single one. The only thing you manage is the musket, and even then your strength is lacking. One shot and you nearly snapped your wrist.”
Su Yan’s pride took a blow. He puffed up angrily: “Oh, so I’m just a frail scholar who can’t even truss a chicken? Eating your family’s rice for nothing?”
Yu Wang laughed heartily: “If only you really would come and eat it!”
Su Yan turned to leave, but was tugged back again. Yu Wang pressed the small scorpion crossbow into his hands, coaxing: “See? Not heavy at all. Shooting is much simpler than archery. Practice a bit and you’ll get the feel. Your aim is good—this weapon suits you. Keep it.”
Su Yan turned the little crossbow over and over in his hands, liking it more by the moment, but couldn’t quite bring himself to accept it outright.
Yu Wang added: “It’s not for free. Tonight, honor me by coming to the palace for supper. And while you’re there, see Ah Wu? He misses you terribly—cried for you several times, calling you ‘godfather.’”
Su Yan: …
Su Yan: As if I’d believe that!
He said: “I’ve already bought gifts. I’ll have them sent to the palace for the young shizi. But as for supper, I must decline—I have urgent official business tonight.”
Yu Wang scoffed: “You set out tomorrow morning—what urgent business could there be tonight? Fine then, this prince will sit in your courtyard until you’re done. Surely you won’t stay out all night, will you?”
Su Yan: …
Su Yan: What to do? Even if I set up a meeting with Qilang outside, this sticky Yu Wang would trail me. But if I go to his palace, Qilang will surely be angry.
He thought and thought, but no perfect solution appeared. At last, helpless, he said: “Tonight in the Eastern Market there’s a street performance—ball juggling, tightrope walking, fish-dragons, all sorts of tricks children love. I’ll take the young shizi there. Your Highness needn’t join—besides, you’d probably lose him halfway through.”
Since whichever side he ditched would cause trouble anyway—why not ditch both?
—Was the little shizi not adorable enough?
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