The fragrance was of pine wood from Cuihua Mountain in Nande—steady and elegantly refined.
Breathing deeply in and shallowly out, Mo Zi opened her eyes. She was still alive! She was certain of it from this scent.
The paper window showed white—daylight was bright. Looking to both sides, she saw a four-poster bed hung with thin black gauze curtains. When her body moved, a snow-white, silk-lustrous single brocade quilt slid to one side. She’d forgotten where she was injured. Lifting her hand, she immediately gasped from pain. Her limbs were weak, her body soft as cotton, her head weighing a thousand pounds. Just having her eyes open for a moment made her eyelids feel tired.
“Miss, the physician said you injured your tendons and bones and lost too much blood. You urgently need quiet rest and must not disturb the wound, lest the bleeding start again and the injury worsen.” A small maid appeared before the curtains, her voice extremely gentle.
“Who are you?” When Mo Zi spoke, her voice was half-hoarse.
“This servant is Luo Ying, a maid in Master Yuan’s household. Because you needed someone to care for you, I was assigned to serve you. Miss, would you like some water?” Luo Ying’s figure was very deferential.
“Yes, please trouble you.” Her mouth and tongue were indeed parched. Mo Zi wanted to sit up.
“Miss, please don’t exert yourself. If you want to get up, just tell this servant.” The curtains were drawn back to reveal a young girl in a blue jacket and green skirt, somewhat timid-looking. Her appearance was ordinary, but she had large hands and feet. Her clothes were new but didn’t fit her frame—they were too big.
Mo Zi smiled. “Luo Ying, did you previously serve the master?” Doesn’t seem like it.
“No, this servant was previously a maid who specialized in washing clothes. Captain Hua said you were injured, miss, and it wasn’t convenient for men to care for you, so he specially had us come. The young master just moved in, and there aren’t many servants in the household—only two maids, both doing rough work. This servant has clumsy hands and feet and only knows how to wash clothes. I’ve never served someone as beautiful as you, miss, and have never worn such lovely silk clothes. If my service isn’t adequate, miss, please feel free to beat or scold me—this servant will certainly improve.” Probably noticing Mo Zi looking at her hands, Luo Ying embarrassedly rubbed them on her skirt—a habit from washing clothes.
Mo Zi thought to herself that the last time she nearly died, she’d woken up as someone’s maid; this time she nearly died and woke up with a maid to command. Speaking of which, she wondered if that hundred-tael money pouch was still there or not?
Though Luo Ying’s movements were somewhat clumsy, she had good strength and was very careful. She helped Mo Zi sit up against cushions, said to wait a moment, and went to fetch water.
Mo Zi saw she was wearing a white silk undergarment, her chest bound with layers of gauze bandages—also spotlessly white. She wasn’t worried about any exposure—preserving her life was most important. Asking her to observe propriety would be too laughable. She only wanted to know how long she’d been unconscious—even the bleeding had already stopped.
After drinking water, she asked Luo Ying, “Do you know how long I was asleep?”
“Seven days.” At this, Luo Ying patted her chest, looking quite frightened. “In all my years, I’ve never seen anyone sleep as long as you, miss—just taking medicine and drinking broth, eating nothing else. Hua Ying and I thought, we thought…”
“Thought you wouldn’t wake up.” The door opened and Yuan Cheng walked in.
Again all in black, woven with silver threads, using black mountain and white water dyeing methods—a painting hidden within the threads. Like the man himself, everything looked wrong from the second glance onward. On him, it carried noble air mixed with leisure, utterly carefree and untroubled.
“Mister Yuan really does like black.” She had to admit black was probably the most suitable color for this person. His heart was buried too deep—who could see through it?
Yuan Cheng didn’t respond to Mo Zi’s remark, sitting down at the round table across from her bed and pouring himself tea.
Luo Ying hastily called out “Master” and curtsied before withdrawing.
In this situation of a man and woman alone together, Mo Zi thought of that scene where Wei Liu imposed himself on Xiao Er, but the other party was Yuan Cheng, and she wasn’t Wei Liu.
“Miss Mo Zi, are you hungry? Should I have someone prepare food?” If she could wake, she could live—that’s what the white-haired old imperial physician had said. Apparently not a quack.
“I’m hungry, but I can’t eat solid food yet—semi-liquid would be better.” The feeling upon waking was one of depleted vital energy but great joy. “If it’s not too much trouble for Mister Yuan’s household chef, congee or soup—chicken soup, fish soup, bone broth—all soups welcome.” Eat what you need to replenish. She’d nearly had her heart pierced through—her body truly had a hole broken in it, so she needed to replenish everything.
When she’d fainted before his eyes, blood had gushed forth, her face pale as paper with almost no pulse. He’d thought she couldn’t hold on until he found someone to save her little life. When extracting the dart and applying medicine, she hadn’t moved at all, her breath like a gossamer thread. Seven days and seven nights, no matter how much medicinal broth they’d poured into her, he could see she improved day by day. The wound no longer bled, her face remained pale, but her breathing stabilized and her pulse strengthened from weak to strong. Having nearly died himself, he understood her. Even with just one breath, she would pull through.
She’d told him that even ants cling to life, urging him to strive with all his might against the Great Zhou Emperor.
He had striven.
She’d told him that if he could vindicate the Yuan family’s wrongful treatment, what harm in groveling?
He had groveled.
She’d told him that since Nande had abandoned him, whom did he still need to be loyal to? Of course, loyal to himself.
He had been loyal.
Therefore, he lived.
Therefore, she would also live.
That dart had been aimed at her heart. The old imperial physician had also said it was absolutely intentional, deliberate, vicious—seeking to kill her swiftly.
He thought the old man had listened to too many storytelling performances, using so many “de” particles with spittle flying, but at least the fact that someone wanted to kill her was indisputable.
She must also know this point—how could she let herself die easily?
A smuggler, a maid in a wealthy household who constantly ran outside—her identity mysterious, her whereabouts mysterious—but mortal danger was somewhat beyond his expectations.
Mo Zi thought that having slept seven days and still being in his home, would Qiu Sanniang think she’d absconded with the funds?
“Sir, could you please have someone send me over the wall? I haven’t returned for many days—my master must be anxious.” After speaking, she again discovered that being this maid had made her increasingly “servile.”
“No need to worry. The day Miss Mo Zi was injured, I already had Huayi notify his junior martial sister, that one called Xiao Yi, who relayed your master’s words.” Taking a sip of tea, he continued as a messenger. “She told you to recuperate well and not rush back.”
This messenger must have relayed the wrong message. Would Qiu Sanniang say such things? Recuperate well, don’t rush back? Based on Mo Zi’s understanding of this young miss, she would definitely ask what happened, how severe the injury was, and if she could be moved, she’d insist on moving her over the wall regardless, only believing it after seeing with her own eyes.
However, she currently had no energy to debate with Yuan Cheng. Her eyelids were so tired she could barely lift them. The thought of sleep had just emerged when her body automatically slid downward. The problem of hunger was minor—not letting her sleep would be life-threatening.
“Mo Ge.” Yuan Cheng’s voice sounded lighter.
“Mister Yuan.” Light in volume, not light in weight. Mo Zi’s mind couldn’t be said to be very clear, but it was at least very alert. Natural disposition.
“If Mo Ge can wake from this sleep, your life will be even more secure. Can Yuan consider your debt to him repaid?” Yuan Cheng looked at the person gradually lying down and asked slowly.
“Mister Yuan, could we discuss this question after I’m definitely going to survive? Whether it’s repaid and how it’s repaid—we should sit down, have tea, and discuss together. You can’t just decide alone.” Having suffered one serious injury and learned one hard lesson, she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Yuan Cheng laughed softly. His cup bottom met the marble tabletop with a crisp sound.
Mo Zi also smiled slightly, eyes closed, lying completely flat, pulling up the silk quilt. “Mister Yuan, don’t think I’m greedy. It’s just that when people are sick, their minds are muddled and unclear, and they easily make mistakes of principle. With your world-covering talent, sir, you surely wouldn’t let me later spread a bad reputation that you took advantage of someone’s peril? Sir, you’re now an Imperial Academy erudite—you can’t be known as one who misleads students.”
Laughing continuously, Yuan Cheng’s words became somewhat unclear. “If Mo Ge fears losing out, Yuan will simply wait. Mo Ge, just sleep. When you wake from this sleep, chicken soup, fish soup, bone broth—all soups will be there. If you dream of eating, just go through the motions. Save your appetite for soup. No matter how inadequate Yuan may be, keeping you full is simple enough.”
Mo Zi thought this person thought of so much—he’d even considered her dreams.
Let everything wait! The stabbing incident, the matter of repaying kindness, the shipyard business, Sanniang’s affairs. Wait until she’d slept until her spirits were full and vitality overflowing, then take them out one by one to examine.
Just as Mo Zi continued sleeping in a daze, in a majestic palace far beyond Great Zhou, a brown eagle descended.
A pair of large, powerful hands reached out, removing a note from the cylinder on the eagle’s talons. Slowly unfolding it, he tore it to shreds in an instant.
Snow-white paper fragments scattered, drifting down from the cliff-like towering window.
One could see those sleeves were purple-gold, embroidered with twin dragons playing with pearls. Below the knuckle of the slender, beautiful ring finger was a purple-red phoenixstone ring.
“My prince, is there news?” Behind the purple-robed figure came a charming voice.
Just hearing the voice could set one’s imagination running wild.
“Hu Wei found Ah Zi’s comb but still hasn’t found her.” The purple-robed man faced away from the window, his back slightly bowed, as if exhausted by this news.
“My prince, don’t worry. Heaven cherishes life—elder sister is blessed by fortune and will surely avoid this calamity. Perhaps tomorrow she’ll stand before you, acting coquettish.” Another pair of hands—small and boneless, nails traced with gold and powder, wearing an amber-colored phoenixstone pinky ring—linked into the purple-robed man’s arm. Her back was proudly straight, wearing a wide-sleeved robe of sky-silver blue embroidered with peacock golden tail feathers.
“How can I not worry? That day she was angry I didn’t keep my word. Her words carried the meaning of a complete break. I actually thought she was throwing a tantrum and planned to coax her back after the matter was settled. Could it really be a final parting?” The man spoke mournfully.
“Didn’t my prince say that as long as you don’t see elder sister’s corpse, you won’t believe news of her death? Since that’s so, why worry excessively? Now that the comb has been found, perhaps my prince’s true feelings have moved Heaven, and elder sister will appear before long. Elder sister said where the comb is, she is. My prince mustn’t forget—elder sister is so clever, who in the world can match her? If my prince ruins his health with worry, when elder sister returns, won’t that make her feel worse?” The woman’s persuasion was comforting to the heart.
The man slowly withdrew his arm. Seeing the woman stiffen, he felt reluctant. In the end, he took that small hand and forced a smile.