After the Crown Prince made such a scene, I fear my imperial brother has grown weary of you. Best not to go seek him in private, lest you bring humiliation on yourself.
Su Yan sat slanted on the carriage seat, his head bumping the wall of the swaying cabin. Snapping back to his senses, he realized Yu Wang’s words had unsettled his heart.
Rationally he knew—even if the Emperor avoided meeting him, it could never be out of disgust. There must be some other reason. Yet words that cut to the heart, once they entered the ear, would always ripple, however briefly, like wind on a lake’s surface.
Su Yan felt it necessary to meet the Emperor alone and ask him directly.
Besides, how was the Emperor’s health recently? Was his head ailment still recurring? Su Yan had not yet confirmed with his own eyes. How could he simply accept “not meeting” and give up? If the mountain will not come to me, then I shall go to the mountain.
With this resolution, Su Yan ordered the carriage not to return to the Su residence just yet, but to turn toward another place—to visit Ruan Hongjiao.
Ruan Hongjiao’s rented courtyard was far from the Su residence but close to the Northern Surveillance Bureau of the Embroidered Guards. It belonged to Gao Shuo.
When Su Yan had left the capital not long before, Shen Qi had used “renovating the residence” as a pretext to politely send her out, claiming he had already found her a new, elegant, secluded place, with the rent prepaid for a year as apology.
Ruan Hongjiao knew Shen Qi minded her ambiguous past with Su Yan and always wanted her to avoid suspicion. Without protest, she had her maid pack up and got on the moving carriage.
When she saw the new home, she was quite satisfied and settled down.
Over a month later, when her bandages were removed, Ruan Hongjiao touched the scarred, uneven half of her face and wept before the mirror.
She did not regret her choice. But the beauty she once had was gone forever, and inevitably she felt sorrow, hiding in her boudoir, unwilling to go out. The only time she did was to the Rouge Alley, to settle accounts with the madam and redeem her deed of sale.
The madam at first refused no matter what. Ruan Hongjiao lifted her veil. At the sight of that hideous scar, the madam recoiled in horror and disappointment, releasing her contract immediately, not even daring to extort the ransom money.
Facing the madam’s look of disdain and the whispered gossip of the other girls, Ruan Hongjiao remained unmoved, calmly completing the redemption, and severed ties with the pleasure quarters once and for all.
Her freedom was bought with her looks. Moreover, before leaving the capital, Su Yan had helped her erase her status as a prostitute from the government registry. Henceforth she was a proper citizen. Something lost, something gained—she understood the truth of “Sai Weng losing his horse.” Even if given another chance, she would make the same choice.
From the brothel to the street carriage, someone had been following her all along. Sensitive to the gaze at her back, Ruan Hongjiao grew angry.
Was it some persistent lecher, knowing she had redeemed herself, yet still wanting to take advantage? She deliberately sent her maid to buy food, then alighted gracefully from the carriage, turned into a side alley, and pretended to sprain her ankle, falling to the ground as if unable to rise.
Sure enough, the stalker showed himself, stepping forward to help.
Ruan Hongjiao tore off her veil and thrust her hideous half-face suddenly toward him, intending to startle and disgust him.
The man froze. Instead of being repulsed, guilt flooded his face, his eyes pained. He bowed in apology: “It was I who, in my rashness, struck without care, ruining Miss Ruan. I… I can never make it up to you in this lifetime.”
Only then did Ruan Hongjiao recognize—the man following her was Gao Shuo.
Gao Shuo, of the Embroidered Guards, right-hand man to the Northern Surveillance Bureau commander Shen Qi. Outwardly just a mere captain due to his covert work as an agent, yet highly valued by Shen Qi.
After waking up in Mr. Yingxu’s medical hut, the first face Ruan Hongjiao saw was Gao Shuo’s.
She vaguely recalled—this man was one of the three Embroidered Uniform Guard who fought Mr. He in the guest quarters of Marquis Xianan’s mansion that night. It was he who, when she was bitten by a snake, without hesitation, slashed away the flesh on her face with a single stroke.
At the same time, she also remembered—it was this man who carried her injured body out of the Marquis’s residence, spurring his horse into a mad gallop. Just before her consciousness faded, the last thing she felt was the warmth of his embrace.
Ruan Hongjiao was grateful to Gao Shuo, yet she also sensed the unusual look in his eyes when he gazed at her—no matter whether that feeling came from guilt, pity, or responsibility, she refused to accept it.
“So it’s Lord Gao. You gave me a fright.” Ruan Hongjiao put her veil back on, avoided his helping hand, and rose to her feet. “I have turned to the path of respectability. Men and women should keep their distance, I beg your lordship to avoid suspicion.”
Faced with her obvious rejection, Gao Shuo felt a touch of bitterness deep down, though his face showed only a gentle smile. “It was discourteous of me. Does Miss Ruan have somewhere to go after leaving here?”
Ruan Hongjiao nodded, giving a small bow. “Then I take my leave. Lord Gao, take care.”
She thought their fate together ended there, but a month later, she unexpectedly ran into him again right outside her own gate.
Gao Shuo had no choice but to admit that he was the owner of the small courtyard, explaining that their relationship was only that of landlord and tenant, and that he would not overstep boundaries.
Ruan Hongjiao simply did not wish to be entangled in romance with him; she did not actually dislike this Embroidered Uniform Guard officer, plain in looks but gentle in manner. So she did not insist on moving out.
Gradually, with more chance encounters, the two became familiar. Sometimes he would help her repair a window; sometimes she would cook a fish for him. Though they abided strictly by propriety, when meeting face-to-face, they would glance at one another and exchange faint smiles.
But nothing more.
Shen Qi never concerned himself with his men’s private matters. Once, seeing Gao Shuo drinking alone in gloom, he casually remarked, “So troublesome? Just ply her with wine and sleep with her—it’ll be done.”
Gao Shuo shook his head. “Sleeping is easy… I only fear that once it’s done, she’ll hate me for a lifetime.”
Shen Qi sneered: “She’s already slept with who knows how many men. Why would she care about this one?”
Gao Shuo didn’t reply. Through the haze of drink, he fixed his gaze on Shen Qi.
From that look, Shen Qi understood what he meant: if it were Lord Su, would you dare risk being hated by him for life, just to force on him something he loathes and resists?
To risk being hated by Su Yan for life—this sudden thought struck Shen Qi like lightning, making him step back half a pace.
He hastily left the drunken Gao Shuo, returned to his own residence, and from a hidden compartment in his bedroom retrieved the half-section of message-concealing mechanism tube he’d once obtained from the wonton vendor.
His fingers stroked the metal’s carved surface for a long while. In the end, he still could not bring himself to trigger it into self-destruction, and put it back in the compartment.
Last month, when the rebel Liao in Henan stirred up unrest, Emperor Jinglong dispatched him to Kaifeng to investigate whether the Void Sect was involved. Shen Qi led several hundred elite Embroidered Uniform Guard and accepted the mission.
Before departing, he took with him the half-section mechanism tube.
Gao Shuo also accompanied Shen Qi to Henan. Before leaving, he left the deed to his house with Ruan Hongjiao, telling her: “I’m going with my superior out of the capital on a mission. If I return safely, please roast me another fish. If I don’t come back, I leave this courtyard to you. I’m a solitary man anyway—if you don’t want it, just deal with it as you will.”
After spending so much time together, how could there not be some attachment? Ruan Hongjiao refused the deed at first, but Gao Shuo was adamant. In the end, she could only say: “Then let the deed be kept with me for now. When Lord Gao returns triumphant, I will cook you a whole table of fish.”
Gao Shuo laughed: “Steamed, sweet-and-sour, braised, fried… it’s settled then. I’m off. Take care of yourself.”
He waved from horseback without looking back. Ruan Hongjiao watched his figure ride away, her heart a swirl of emotions.
More than a month passed without a word from Gao Shuo. Under the grape arbor, while doing embroidery, Ruan Hongjiao suddenly thought of him—and of Su Yan.
At the gate of the little fenced courtyard, a clear young man’s voice called: “My good miss, your young master has come to see you.”
At the sound, Ruan Hongjiao turned her head in surprise and delight. “…Young Master, you’ve returned to the capital!”
Su Yan entered the yard smiling, placing many gifts he carried onto the stone table.
Ruan Hongjiao hurried to brew tea.
The two, like siblings of different surnames, inquired after one another’s well-being. After briefly exchanging the past half-year’s experiences, Su Yan gazed at her softly and asked: “Sister Ruan, may I lift your veil and look at you?”
Ruan Hongjiao hesitated, unwilling for the boy she once admired to see her disfigured ugliness.
But Su Yan’s eyes were so gentle, like spring breezes brushing across her face, stirring within her the yearning to meet that warm wind with her true countenance.
Slowly, Ruan Hongjiao untied her veil.
This was Su Yan’s first time seeing her ruined face.
His expression held no shock, no disgust, no sorrow, no pity. He simply looked at her quietly, as if she had grown nothing more than an oversized pimple. Su Yan said: “Sister Ruan, your wound has healed well—only, the polyps have grown a bit much. Later, let Mr. Yingxu remove them, and I’ll find some secret medicine from the southern frontier for you. It should smooth out again.”
The taut string in Ruan Hongjiao’s heart suddenly loosened. She smiled. “How could there be such miraculous medicine?”
Su Yan replied: “Why not? Last year Yu Wang gave me a jar—it cured the mess of my beaten-up backside. Your face now looks far better than my butt did then.”
Ruan Hongjiao spat at him, raising her half-finished embroidered fan as if to swat him. The sorrow she had carried in her heart was soothed more than half, and she no longer shed tears before the mirror.
Su Yan caught the fan she tossed and said: “Sister Ruan, give me a hug.”
Blushing, Ruan Hongjiao embraced him. At her ear, Su Yan murmured: “I have someone I cherish, and I want to be with him… with them. To weather storms together, life and death, advancing and retreating side by side. And you, Sister?”
The “them” Su Yan spoke of did not surprise Ruan Hongjiao, nor did it strike her as wrong—life is but brief daylight, a hundred years bitter and soon over. If one cannot live true to the heart, what joy is there in living?
Ruan Hongjiao smiled through tears. “Young Master… how wonderful. I too should live so—following my heart.”
Su Yan helped her sit back down on the stool, then asked, “Sister Ruan, you’re only twenty this year. Life is still so long—what do you plan to do in the future?”
Ruan Hongjiao thought for a moment and replied, “My family used to run a business. Father and Mother lost everything when they went bankrupt, and in desperation sold their daughter into a brothel. I… I want to go into trade. I still have some savings—enough to buy a shop front and stock.”
“Trade? A good idea.” Su Yan’s mind flashed with some recipes and formulas he had studied before while reading transmigration and popular science essays online. He smiled. “Which line of trade does Sister Ruan want to try? I’ll put in some investment… ah, but the Great Ming laws forbid officials from engaging in commerce, lest they compete with the common people. In that case, I’ll just offer you ideas.”
The two dined on the maid’s evening dishes, chatting as they ate.
As dusk fell, Su Yan took his leave.
The next morning, he went to court, even submitting a memorial reporting the various governmental affairs he had handled in Shaanxi over the past half year. The Secretariat accepted it as usual. Yet Emperor Jinglong seemed to have forgotten him completely—at court he did not summon him to speak, nor even cast a glance his way.
Su Yan felt aggrieved, but could not ask during audience.
He barely endured until court was dismissed. As the imperial carriage departed in haste, he seized a chance to call over Duogui, the young eunuch serving at Lan Xi’s side.
Duogui still remembered him and smiled. “Lord Su, it has been quite a while. I heard you just returned to the capital?”
Su Yan exchanged a few pleasantries, then entreated him to report to the Emperor that Su Yan requested an audience.
Duogui readily agreed, asking him to wait a moment. But before he could even approach the dragon palanquin, Lan Xi blocked him and sent him back.
Su Yan was still waiting in the narrow lane between the palace walls when Duogui returned with an apologetic face. “Lord Su, it isn’t that I won’t help. My master said—the Emperor refuses to see you.”
“…The Emperor said this himself? Do you know the reason?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is His Majesty’s health well of late? Has his head ailment recurred?”
“To my eyes, he is well. The head pains do recur, but Physician Chen tends to them. His Majesty does not like to call on the imperial physicians.”
“Physician Chen… that is Mr. Yingxu?”
Duogui nodded. “Physician Chen now resides in the outer court of the palace, at the Deyi Zhai near the Eastern Palace, so he can be summoned at any time.”
Su Yan grew thoughtful, bowing. “Thank you, Duo Gonggong, for troubling yourself.”
Duogui waved it off. “Not at all. I often play with Fubao, who serves your young master. Before leaving, he instructed Fubao to tell me to watch over Lord Su, and to lend help where I can.”
Su Yan thanked him again and left the palace lane.
He did not exit through the Meridian Gate, but turned toward the Eastern Palace, using the waist token given by the Crown Prince to enter the nearby Deyi Zhai. But he did not find Chen Shiyu there. The eunuchs said that Physician Chen had gone to the imperial kitchens to prepare medicine, and no one knew when he would return.
Su Yan had no choice. For the first time he felt the palace was as deep and unfathomable as the sea. If not for the Emperor and Crown Prince’s permission back then, he would never have set foot so deep within the Inner Court.
Could it be that he had truly been cast aside so unclearly, so inexplicably? Su Yan was unwilling, uneasy, and deeply angered.
No matter what, he had to find a chance to meet the Emperor alone, and ask him face to face.
Heading toward Donghua Gate, he walked in deep thought when suddenly a hand clapped his shoulder from behind, startling him.
“What are you brooding over? I followed you all the way and you didn’t even notice.”
Su Yan turned to see—it was Yu Wang.
He remembered not seeing Yu Wang in court earlier. Where had he come from?
Yu Wang seemed to read his thoughts. “I just came from my Royal Mother’s quarters. By the lanes near Fengtian Gate I saw you speaking with that little eunuch, so I followed. What, still not giving up?”
Su Yan gave a self-mocking smile. “Even in sentencing to death, they at least give the cause. I just want clarity—is that so hard?”
“And once you have clarity? Then what?” Yu Wang scrutinized him. “Beg my royal brother for pity once more?”
Though Su Yan’s heart bled, his face returned to calm, even a touch of coldness. “If he is without feeling, then let it end. What pity? If we can let go and part without resentment, then let us remain ruler and subject. If not—then I have my own path.”
Yu Wang burst out laughing. “Good! That’s what I like about you.” Seeing no one around, he pulled Su Yan into his arms.
Su Yan struggled to break free, but Yu Wang’s next words doused his anger: “Tonight, I’ll take you into the palace—I’ll let you see him alone.”
