Zhu Zi’an settled down and said solemnly: “If you want to safely enter the High Court dungeons, it would be best for that Eastern Palace Crown Prince to think of a way.”
Jiang Kui thought for a moment and nodded slightly: “I’ll return to the Eastern Palace tomorrow morning.”
Zhu Zi’an was stunned: “What time?”
“Dawn.” Jiang Kui turned to look at him. “What’s wrong?”
Zhu Zi’an said in a small voice: “Does it have to be so early? It’s midwinter right now, dawn hasn’t even broken yet.”
“It’s me getting up early, not you getting up early,” Jiang Kui glared at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t disturb your beauty sleep, you can keep napping all you want.”
The person beside her lowered his head, muttering under his breath where she couldn’t hear: “I wish I could.”
After discussing matters, it was already the hour of the rooster, and night fell deeper. The lively voices from the streets were blown into the courtyard by the night wind, wave after wave like a tide, loud then quiet, quiet then loud again.
Ah Rong went back to tidy up in the rear hall, Elder Yuan went to the back room to rest for a bit. Little Chen briskly cleaned up the bowls and chopsticks, wiping the dinner table spotless. Then Miss Leng dragged him off to continue sword practice in the backyard.
The little Beggar Sect Gang Leader put on ostentatious airs, raising her exquisite pink-and-jade complexion, commanding the young boy to practice with her over and over. Every so often she would impatiently curse him a “dummy.”
Lithe as a swallow, Jiang Kui landed lightly on a tree branch, sitting quietly amidst the shadows as she gazed up at the sea of stars in the sky. Below her, Zhu Zi’an leaned against the tree with folded arms, watching the two children’s blades clash.
The two in the tree and below were tacitly silent, letting the starlight spill down freely like water over their shoulders.
When the little boy was beaten back by the girl yet again, Zhu Zi’an laughed softly and walked over, patting his shoulder and teaching him how to counter blades.
Jiang Kui watched him from atop the tree. The young master had his head lowered with a faint smile, his sword-wielding hand slender yet powerful. His wrist flips were clean and sharp, faintly revealing an icy edge like frost.
She suddenly felt that he should have been a carefree young wanderer, wine pot in hand amid osmanthus flowers, basking in the spring wind’s favor. He would ride his horse and lean against a slanted bridge, grasping a longsword and twirling out a casual sword flower.
Soon, Zhu Zi’an was called away by Imperial Physician Shen. Little Chen stared at his wooden sword blankly for a while before crossing blades with Miss Leng once more.
Jiang Kui remained sitting in the tree gazing blankly at the moon. Ah Rong had finished up in the back and walked over to sit under the tree, accompanying her for a bit. The two chatted casually for a sentence or two before looking towards the two dueling children.
As midwinter night fell, the chill crept higher. Little Chen’s frail body soon grew somewhat tired, leaning on his wooden sword as he started coughing.
Miss Leng watched him for a while before seeming to get annoyed. She flung her sword to the ground and ran out of the backyard, leaving Little Chen to stare dumbly at her retreating back.
Ah Rong sitting under the tree suddenly said softly: “Little Chen…has had it rough.”
Jiang Kui gave a small start. She rarely heard Ah Rong talk about things relating to Little Chen. She sat quietly in the tree, watching Little Chen pick up both swords and head towards the front yard. Only then did she hear Ah Rong murmur below: “The estate was quite lively today. Little Chen looks much happier because of it. I really must thank you and Young Master Zhu.”
She paused, then said softly again: “In fact, I’m not this child’s mother.”
In the silent night wind, Jiang Kui lowered her head to see the woman below with a face both young and old. Her features were like an ancient blade, sharp yet faded, tinged with a hint of vicissitudes seen.
When she had arrived in Chang’an ten years ago cradling an infant, people naturally assumed she was the child’s mother. All these years, Little Chen had always called her “Mother,” and she had never denied it. Now in retrospect, she would have been far too young to be a mother back then.
“Only Young Master Zhu previously knew this,” Ah Rong said softly. “I come from a southern martial arts sect. Over ten years ago, there was much hatred between sects in the martial world. Back then I was still ignorant and foolish, acting rashly over grudges and vengeance. I once followed my senior martial siblings to wipe out another sect…”
“Little Chen was a newborn babe back then,” her voice grew hoarse. “That day, I watched with my own eyes as his mother was stabbed to death, barely giving birth to this child…As she lay dying, she pleaded for me to save her child. I promised her I would.”
That must have been a gory day of spilt blood and screams of slaughter, endless blades and swords…A gravely wounded woman cradling an infant, crawling and kneeling, dragging a long trail of blood as she piteously begged her enemy to save her child.
And her enemy she pled to was merely a young female warrior not yet of age. Faced with life and death she was suddenly moved by a hint of compassion.
“You destroyed his clan yet saved his life,” Jiang Kui murmured. “So that was how it was.”
Such a complicated cycle of debts and grudges between this mother and child.
“Little Chen doesn’t know any of this. He thinks I picked him up as an orphan. I haven’t dared tell him even after so many years.” Ah Rong shook her head lightly. “Besides, I left the sect long ago.”
“You left the sect…because you saved your enemy’s son and the sect disapproved?”
“The sect approved,” Ah Rong smiled faintly. “But the sect was destroyed.”
Jiang Kui looked at her sharply: “The southern sect that the imperial court destroyed ten years ago…”
“The southern sect I came from, yes,” Ah Rong said lowly. “The senior martial siblings who I journeyed Jianghu with back then are all long dead.”
She sighed softly: “Sometimes I wonder if the sect’s destruction was retribution for our crimes. Debts and grudges in this world tangle the clearest. I don’t want Little Chen to know of this. I only hope he can grow up safe and well.”
“But he was born sickly with a frail body…I also don’t know if he can even live to grow up,” she said dispiritedly.
“Ah Rong,” Jiang Kui said gently, “you truly are an amazing woman.”
Because over ten years ago a hint of kindness made an unmarried girl below the age of fifteen carry a feeble infant as she struggled to make her away around Jianghu relying only on a sword and a promise. Still quite young today, an age where she should be free of cares, she had neither married nor dared taste familial warmth, instead raising a stranger’s child alone through hardship and tribulation.
“You think so?” Ah Rong shook her head. “I don’t feel that way.”
With that shake of her head it was as if she cast off lingering memories of the past, returning firmly to the smoke-wreathed present.
“I’m very grateful to you and Young Master Zhu these years for helping me so much.”
She went on, “I recently learned he is also Master Pu Liu—only then did I realize when taking jobs he would often give me preferential treatment without telling me directly.”
“Little Chen is very fond of him. Everyone is very fond of him,” Ah Rong said with a smile. “A man like him…you’re also very fond of him, aren’t you?”
She didn’t wait for Jiang Kui’s reply and continued on her own: “In fact, when I first arrived in Chang’an he wasn’t as he is now. Back then he was still a child himself, very quiet and didn’t talk much, also didn’t smile a lot.”
“So he often stayed in this estate before?”
“Not too often either. Rarely saw him around. He was always alone. Later on he moved away, I heard to that East Corner Tower alley…I’m not too clear on the specifics.”
She lifted her face to look at the girl in the tree and said: “He must be very fond of you too? He always seems happy when he’s together with you.”
Seemingly feeling she had said too much, she quickly tacked on: “Young Hero Jiang, I want to sit a while longer. Could I trouble you to ask Young Master Zhu if there is enough hot bath water? More people are staying over today, if not enough I will go boil more.”
“Alright, I’ll ask him.” Jiang Kui said.
She shook out her long hair, casting off her turmoil of emotions. Light as swallow she dropped from the tree, treading on the blanket of starlight covering the ground as she headed forward accompanied by the cool night breeze.
She shoved open the wooden rear hall door and called out loudly: “Zhu Zi’an!”
That man happened to emerge right then from inside, and inadvertently ran right into the girl coming through the doorway.
Caught unprepared, she bumped into his chest.
He reached to support her by instinct. She reflexively lifted her head in his embrace to meet his lowered eyes.
Steaming mist gushed out from behind the door, spilling stardust onto the slightly cool night. A light breeze lifted their tangled hair.
“Sorry about that,” Zhu Zi’an released his hands. “Was a bit distracted.”
“It’s fine,” Jiang Kui said, head lowered.
Hot mist and steam pounced on her all at once, flushing her cheeks slightly red.
Zhu Zi’an scratched his head awkwardly. He had just bathed and changed into loose robes, a half-damp soft white towel draped over his shoulders. Beads of water still clung to his hair, brushed onto his cheek.
“Ah Rong asked me to come see if there is enough bath water,” Jiang Kui still had her head lowered.
“Oh,” Zhu Zi’an was a bit embarrassed. “Not enough left. I’ll go boil more.”
“I’ll go with you.”
The two sat shoulder-to-shoulder before the fiery stove without exchanging a word, silently waiting for the water to boil.
Zhu Zi’an added firewood to the stove several times. Jiang Kui kept her head lowered without speaking the whole time. It was hot in front of the stove, flushing her cheeks an even brighter red which accentuated her fair, jade-like complexion. A strand of stray hair fell beside her ear, disobediently curling up.
Zhu Zi’an sized her up for a while then suddenly waved his hand in front of her eyes.
“What do you want?” she said, annoyed.
“You haven’t said anything this whole time,” he said earnestly. “Are you still upset?”
“No, not really,” she huffed. “Oh be quiet and let me have some peace and quiet.”
Zhu Zi’an extremely obediently shut his mouth. Listening to the muffled bubbling water, weariness overtook him. Half-closed eyes nodding off to sleep, the girl beside him hugged her knees with cascading hair like silken cloth. She buried her face inside without knowing what she was thinking.
Until the water’s surface faintly rippled. Zhu Zi’an got up to scoop out a ladleful, looking uncertainly at Jiang Kui for a while but not daring to disturb her.
Jiang Kui sighed. “Go ahead and say it. I tell you to shut up and you actually listen?”
“You think…” Zhu Zi’an leaned on his chin, staring at the shimmering water. “Is it boiled well enough now?”
Jiang Kui waved away the gust of steam pouncing on her and took the proffered ladle to test the temperature, answering: “Hot enough to bathe in, so it should be boiled enough now?”
Zhu Zi’an yawned: “Then I’m going to sleep.”
The two walked one after another along the corridor, stopping between two facing rooms. Starlight filtered out from the clouds, falling from their hair to cast long interwoven shadows on the ground.
Zhu Zi’an yawned again while pushing open his door. He turned back at the entrance, lazily saying: “Sleep well.”
The wooden door closed. The flickering candle flames reflected on the window gauze went out, and the room across quieted down.
Jiang Kui returned to her own room, tidying up the clean clothes Ah Rong had sent over. She swiftly went to fetch a bucketful of the freshly boiled hot water from the rear and slowly sank into it inch by inch amidst the speckled light.
She closed her eyes underwater. A chain of tiny bubbles floated up from below before disappearing without a trace at the surface.
At dawn, birds chirped from the branches.
The weather had grown cold. Jiang Kui felt a slight chill when she woke, tiptoeing across the icy floor.
She changed into a long neutral-colored dress, layering a white under-robe inside underneath her outer garment. The collar of the plain white under-robe peeked out, accentuating her fair and pretty countenance, pure as frosted snow.
She had to return to the Eastern Palace today, hence rising very early. When she opened her door the one across was still shut tight with the window gauze quiet—seemed its occupant hadn’t woken yet.
She leapt nimbly between the eaves, heading due north towards the palace. She circled past the imperial forbidden grounds blanketed in drifting fallen leaves, landed on the glittering glass tiles, and pushed open the red lacquered door of the Eastern Palace chambers.
“Xie Wuyan!” she shouted. “Get up! I have business!”
Unexpectedly her husband wasn’t still asleep. He wore a snowy white ermine coat, sitting properly before the desk extending a writing brush, faint wisps of sandalwood smoke from the decorative mountain-shaped incense burner in front rising languidly to his shoulders.
He raised his eyes to look at her, asking gently: “My wife, good morning.”
“You got up rather early today,” she said, quite surprised.
“I always get up early,” he said solemnly.
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