News that the First Young Lady of the Hua Family had been struck down in an assassination attempt outside the city, her life hanging in the balance, spread at remarkable speed. Whether people had old ties with the Hua Family or old grudges, they all thought the matter had been handled without grace — this was at the very foot of the imperial city; how did it reflect on the Emperor, on the court? Hua Zhi had done what she had done, yet every single thing she had accomplished had benefited everyone. How had it come to the point of someone wanting her life? The greed in this was simply too ugly to look at.
Those who had dealings with the Hua Family did not need to be said — the moment they received word, they rushed to the Hua household.
To make the performance complete, even after she had returned home, Hua Zhi was carried in on a litter, settled into bed, and then had all unnecessary persons dismissed. She addressed Chen Qing, who stood at the doorway: “Send word to Shao Yao. Tell her to come back at once.”
“Yes — word has already been sent.”
“Also, stir the waters — make the situation larger.”
Chen Qing took his leave.
Hua Zhi sent her senior maids away on various pretexts. She unfastened her outer robes and removed the soft armor inside. Then she picked up the arrow, threaded it in through the tear in the outer robe, passed it through layer after layer of clothing beneath, until its tip rested against her chest.
She shifted the shaft slightly to the side, closed her eyes, and pressed down with a single sharp application of force. The arrowhead broke through skin and flesh. The violent pain made her hand tremble. This act — so close to self-mutilation — revolted her deeply. She paused. Then she pressed down again with more force, driving it deeper. If you were going to perform, you performed convincingly.
Blood flowed out. She pressed gently at her robes and let the blood soak through one layer of cloth and then another. Only then did she pull the arrow free and set it aside.
In the brief time that had passed, her already pale face had gone white to the point of near-transparency, damp tendrils of hair clinging to her forehead.
Ying Chun came in carrying hot water and the sight before her sent the basin crashing to the ground. “Miss — you weren’t hurt, you weren’t — so how — why…”
“Only the flesh. Nothing serious.” Hua Zhi let herself fall back against the pillow. “Lock the inner gate. No one from the rear courtyard is to come forward, and no word is to pass to the front either.”
“Miss!”
“I know what I am doing.”
Ying Chun bit her lip, eyes red, and pulled the blanket up over her mistress as gently as she could, stopping just short of the wound. She could not bring herself to look and yet could not stop looking — this much blood, and how much it must hurt.
She went out, called Bao Xia and Nian Qiu to her, and asked: “You’re certain the young lady was uninjured before?”
The two exchanged a glance and nodded. “Certain. We saw it ourselves.”
Ying Chun needed no further explanation — she knew at once that this was her young lady’s stratagem of suffering to gain advantage. She drew a long breath, sent the two of them in to attend to their mistress, instructed one of the younger maids to go in and tidy up the spilled water, and then went to carry out what the young lady had asked of her.
Bao Xia and Nian Qiu did not understand until they went inside and saw the bright red staining their mistress’s chest. They did not even need to ask why.
They had come to the young lady’s side at four or five years old, raised up under her guidance. They had not always understood what it was that set them apart from other servants, but over the course of this past year they had come to feel it clearly — when the other girls around them lost their heads and did not know what to do, they knew. Those complex ledgers, those transactions, those things that others found impossibly difficult but that they could manage almost without effort…
So of course they understood why their mistress had done what she had done. And it was precisely because they understood that the pain of it struck all the deeper. Nian Qiu even wanted to weep on her mistress’s behalf — why, why did their young lady have to endure this, wound upon wound, until when others failed to injure her she had to wound herself to make them pay?
“Use water cut with wine to clean the wound. Take your time — there is no hurry.” Hua Zhi lay with her eyes closed and gave her instructions, her voice faintly unsteady. The pain was too much. She had always known that the fingers were said to be connected to the heart — yet she had not known that a wound this close to the heart itself could hurt like this.
Nian Qiu wiped her tears and went immediately to prepare. Bao Xia took up a pair of scissors and, hands trembling, cut away the clothing layer by layer. When she saw the wound still seeping blood, her heart went into freefall. Even fabric grazing against it was enough to make the young lady flinch. What would happen when the wound had to be properly treated? Their young lady had such extraordinary endurance, and yet even she was hurting this much — how terrible must the pain be…
Movement sounded outside the door. Bao Xia quickly let the bed curtains fall and stood facing the entrance, heart silently praying that it would be Shao Yao姑娘 stepping through.
But the one who entered was Madam Zhu.
Zhu Shan steadied her as she hurried in, her usually gentle face dark with anxiety. Once inside, she pushed Zhu Shan aside and walked quickly forward, paying no heed to Bao Xia’s greeting, yanked the bed curtain aside with one hand, and stood without speaking for a long moment at the sight of what lay before her.
She had known Zhi’er had been injured — her son-in-law and the young master had kept each other informed — but knowing was one thing, and seeing with her own eyes was another entirely.
“Grandmother, did I frighten you? Please don’t worry — this injury only looks alarming. It isn’t serious.”
As she spoke, Hua Zhi moved as though the pain did not exist and tried to push herself upright.
“Lie down.” Madam Zhu’s voice was hard as she stopped her, then turned and said in a cold tone: “Where is the physician? Has anyone been sent for?”
“Word has already been sent for Shao Yao.” Knowing that the old madam’s anger toward them was displaced grief for the young lady’s sake, Bao Xia felt not the slightest resentment — it was simply the truth; they had been useless, and had failed to protect their mistress.
Hua Zhi took hold of her grandmother’s hand and gave it a small squeeze. Madam Zhu looked down at her, the weight in her chest almost unbearable.
She was nothing but a girl. Granted, a girl who was wiser, more devoted, more capable, more remarkable than anyone else — yet none of that changed the fact that she was a girl of seventeen. How had it come to this, that her life had to be so very hard?
Her body had already been worn down to this state, and to add wound upon wound on top of it — her years would be shortened before long.
Madam Zhu’s eyes reddened. She settled onto the edge of the bed wanting to say something reproachful, yet not a single word would come. Her Zhi’er had done nothing wrong. The wrong lay with those who could not abide her existence.
“You don’t need to put on a brave face for me. If it hurts, make a sound — your grandmother is not going to laugh at you.” Madam Zhu pulled the blanket up a little, stopping just at the wound. She could not bear to look and yet kept looking back despite herself — so much blood, how much it must hurt.
“Your mother…”
“The inner gate is locked.” Hua Zhi was so deep in the pain that her thoughts had gone somewhat hazy, yet not a trace of it showed in her expression. “The household is in order with Ying Chun and the others managing — it won’t fall into chaos. But if there are visitors, I must trouble you to receive them. Their standing is such that the maids cannot simply stand in — no one would take them seriously…”
“Stop fretting. Do you think I would stand by and not help?” Madam Zhu cut her off.
Hua Zhi gave a small smile. “You have never once abandoned us.”
Madam Zhu turned her head sharply away. Tears fell like a string of broken beads. She struck her own chest once, hard, then wiped her eyes and turned back. “Is there anything I need to know?”
“If anyone asks about my injury, tell them the wound is in the chest — less than half an inch from the heart. Don’t be alarmed — in truth it is not that serious.” Seeing the sudden change in her grandmother’s expression, Hua Zhi reassured her: “I’m just in pain. The wound itself is not deep.”
The old madam stared fixedly at the wound, drew a long, steadying breath, and nodded. “I know what to do.”
“Trust me — the wound truly is not deep. It is only that its position is somewhat peculiar. It hurts more than a wound in any other place would.”
Hua Zhi did not say that the injury was one she had given herself. It was not that she did not trust her grandmother — it was simply that not putting it into words was better. And besides… she was also afraid of being scolded.