That line was written in the elegant handwriting of the man.
“Those who laugh in secret are also shameful.”
Feng Zhiwei’s shock was no small matter—was he talking about her? Her, who was secretly laughing?
Then she felt she was scaring herself. How could that be possible? Looking at how worn this book was, the people written in it had long passed away countless years ago. How could they have prophetic knowledge?
She picked up the book, and in the next second, she shuddered again.
“Please don’t be alarmed, young one. Be careful not to scatter the pages of the book.”
When Feng Zhiwei’s shock reached its peak, she paradoxically calmed down. At this moment, she could confirm that the man’s words in the book were directed at her.
A mischievous thought suddenly arose in her heart. Without looking at the next line, she casually made a gesture of placing the book over the furnace fire.
The wide-robed person seemed greatly alarmed, leaning forward as if to rise and stop her, but Feng Zhiwei had already quickly withdrawn her hand.
Then she saw the next line in the book, where the man had written: “This book is made from golden silk monkey skin and cannot be burned.” The next sentence followed immediately, but with a changed tone, as if speaking to the book’s author: “This child is just as mischievous as you.”
Below that was the woman’s reply, her tone seemingly somewhat helpless: “Events hundreds of years hence—why bother expending vital energy to divine them? Don’t frighten people.”
There were no more conversational writings below. Feng Zhiwei stroked the pages, smiling as she thought that perhaps this couple had set down their brushes and hidden away somewhere to whisper sweet nothings to each other.
Imagining that immortal couple from years past, with fragrant sleeves adding incense under the moonlight as they conversed through writing, smiling as they set down their brushes to gaze at each other—it was truly a beautiful scene.
The wide-robed person had remained silent throughout. This person’s head and face were concealed within extremely loose robes, as if unwilling to let anyone see their true appearance. They only moved when Feng Zhiwei pretended to burn the book.
The medicinal scent from the furnace wafted about, while the old book held layers of subtle fragrance. The wide-robed person’s gaze suddenly fell on Feng Zhiwei’s fingertips.
At some unknown moment, Feng Zhiwei’s fingertips had taken on a faint reddish tint, especially noticeable when near the medicine furnace, then gradually fading away.
The wide-robed person’s eyes flashed, but Feng Zhiwei was unaware of this change. After finishing her chores, she waved the book in her hand at the other person: “May I take this back to read?”
After thinking, she added: “I’ll be careful not to let anyone discover it.”
She instinctively felt this book was definitely not just a simple miscellaneous record. That unheard-of golden silk monkey skin—she didn’t know what kind of exotic beast it came from. The people who could write in this book must have extraordinary identities, and the writings they left behind must be invaluable. An innocent person suffers for possessing a treasure—it would be best if she didn’t take this thing, but somehow, she felt very reluctant to give it up.
The wide-robed person, however, seemed to have no such concerns and waved their hand, indicating she could leave. Feng Zhiwei tucked the book into her bosom and suddenly froze again.
Just in that instant, she felt something different about herself, but examining her whole body, she couldn’t find anything wrong. She could only smile and leave.
As soon as she stepped out, she cried out in dismay, only then realizing that she had been so absorbed in reading the book that she had missed the time. The golden crow was sinking in the western sky—it was already dusk.
Feng Zhiwei hurriedly took a shortcut to rush back. She knew there was an alley that could lead around to the back door of Orchid Fragrance Courtyard.
The alley was hidden behind a street corner, very secluded. Feng Zhiwei heard her own footsteps echoing almost hollowly on the bluestone path.
In the hollow silence, the buzzing sound of voices suddenly arose from somewhere unknown.
“Mother, give me one tael of silver.”
Feng Zhiwei’s heart trembled—this was Feng Hao’s voice.
She quickly hid herself behind the street corner, holding her breath. Then she saw Feng Hao and Mother walking this way. Feng Hao kept acting coquettishly toward Lady Feng, pestering her for “one tael of silver to buy a silk undershirt.”
“You can’t wear coarse cloth when playing flyball. When you sweat, it all sticks to your body and smells strange,” Feng Hao said with a smile. “They all say if I don’t change into more presentable clothes, they won’t let me play anymore.”
Flyball was a game passed down from the earlier Great Cheng dynasty, said to have been created by Empress Shenying. Originally promoted nationwide, after improvements it had now become a luxury for nobles. A single ball was worth a hundred gold pieces. With Feng Hao’s status, how could he play flyball? And who was he playing with?
Feng Zhiwei’s gaze fell on the intertwined arms of Feng Hao and his mother. Her heart ached, and the earlier questions flashed through her mind without further consideration.
She pressed her lips together, standing alone behind the wall corner, hearing Mother fussing over Feng Hao with concern, hearing Mother say quietly: “People like us shouldn’t mix with those young masters…” Then Feng Hao laughed: “They promised me they’d recommend me to Qingming Academy. Didn’t you say Qingming Academy is the best academy in the world…”
The light and shadow of the setting sun shot into the small alley, merging the backs of those two people into one, while her shadow stretched long and slanted on the ground, separated from those backs like the Chu and Han boundary, far as heaven from earth.
Feng Zhiwei hugged her arms. The chill from the night she was expelled from the Qiu manor struck again. She trembled slightly in the early spring dusk.
She watched as Mother lovingly stroked Feng Hao’s head, finally unable to resist his coaxing and carefully took out one tael of silver. She saw Feng Hao dismiss Mother with a few words, then furtively look around in all directions. She couldn’t help but let a mocking smile bloom at the corners of her lips.
Mother’s monthly allowance was only one tael of silver. If it were truly taken out to make a fine undershirt for her darling son, that would be one thing, but what she feared was that it would be sent into Orchid Fragrance Courtyard, into some young lady’s rouge and powder world.
A month of frugal living, sent to buy candied melon seeds for a prostitute to eat half and throw away half.
Her smile was almost sinister. She no longer thought about that harmonious mother and son, nor did she want to enter the courtyard now and run into her brother. She simply leaned against the wall corner and broke off a piece of the cooled sweet lotus root with glutinous rice to eat.
Halfway through eating, her gaze casually swept past, and Feng Zhiwei froze.
Why were there several foothold marks on this back wall?
Feng Zhiwei raised her head and discovered that this wall was actually extremely concealed. A large tree with dense branches and leaves was only three feet from Orchid Fragrance Courtyard’s back wall, with its crown leaning against the top of the wall. Looking at the foothold marks on the wall, someone had clearly climbed from the tree to the wall before, then entered Orchid Fragrance Courtyard.
Stealing a visit to a prostitute? Or was it some young lady having a secret meeting with a poor lover without money?
Just as she was speculating, she suddenly heard the tree leaves above rustling and shaking. Between the green leaves appeared a pair of feet in thin-soled layered shoes. Then, a moon-white trouser bottom climbed over the wall top and descended gracefully among the tree leaves. This bottom sat steadily on the treetop, in no hurry to come down, seemingly having the leisure to observe the scenery from the high vantage point in all directions.
Feng Zhiwei stood against the tree with great interest, wanting to see the true face of the person behind this bottom.
She vaguely saw the bottom on the treetop swaying restlessly. That person spoke with deep, tragic emotion: “Chrysanthemum, heaven grows not old, this love cannot be severed. The heart is like a double silk net, with thousands upon thousands of knots within… Please take utmost care, please cherish yourself, please… don’t waste away and loosen your garments for me…”
Feng Zhiwei clutched her stomach, thinking she hadn’t eaten too much glutinous rice, so why did she feel so nauseous…
It seemed she wasn’t the only one unimpressed. Someone inside the wall seemed to push, the tree leaves shook violently, and that person cried out in alarm. His bottom trembled continuously, and on the treetop he recited even more tragically: “Last year at the Purple Path and Azure Gate, tonight a rain-spirit and cloud-soul. Squandering a lifetime of haggardness, consuming just a few yellow dusks… Chrysanthemum, how cruel-hearted you are…”
That person continued eloquently reciting love poems, not only encompassing ancient and modern works but even including his own original verses, reciting them extemporaneously with many wonderful lines. His literary thinking was truly nimble and his tongue bloomed like lotus flowers. Feng Zhiwei sighed—such rare talent, wasted on a third-rate prostitute in a brothel, what a sin.
Just as he was reciting, suddenly a clamor arose. Both the front and back doors of Orchid Fragrance Courtyard resounded with violent pounding. Vaguely she could hear men shouting and women crying, making a racket: “Hand over that shameless damned scoundrel!”
“Aiyou!”
The one joyfully reciting poetry at the treetop came to an abrupt halt. With a startled cry, he scurried away like a mouse, but forgot he was still in the tree. With this sudden movement his body tilted to one side. Amid the ripping sounds of clothes and wildly shaking tree leaves, Feng Zhiwei only saw the moon-white bottom suddenly enlarging before her eyes. Then with a “thud,” a person crashed down into the dust at her feet.
Feng Zhiwei looked down—what a romantically charming middle-aged face!
The middle-aged man groaned painfully from the heavy fall but immediately scrambled up from the dust, looking around in alarm. Meanwhile, the people pounding on the back door had also vaguely heard the commotion by the back wall, and soon someone called out from afar: “Go check over there!”
When Feng Zhiwei heard this wasn’t good, she lifted her leg to leave. People were coming to catch adulterers—should she stay and be caught as the adulterer?
But she couldn’t lift her foot. Looking down, she saw a hand tightly gripping her trouser leg. The person on the ground raised his face like a white lotus flower from the mud pit, grinning obsequiously at her: “Brother, please save me!”
Feng Zhiwei crouched down and smiled. That person looked at her full of hope, watching her smile and gently extend her hand, as if to pull him up. That person became even more overjoyed and released her trouser leg to grasp her hand.
Feng Zhiwei immediately withdrew her hand, turned around, and walked away.
That person’s half-risen body crashed down into the dust again with a thud…
Seeing Feng Zhiwei’s heartless refusal to save him while the chaotic footsteps at the back door were already closing in, that person called out quietly: “You dare to leave!”
Feng Zhiwei paid no attention and didn’t even pause.
Her waist suddenly tightened—her body was already being embraced by someone. An elegant masculine fragrance pressed in upon her, and then she heard the person behind her shout:
“If you won’t save me, I’ll say you forced yourself on me!”