Ye Liuchun × Bai Shating Extra: Spring River Moon

【Part Two: Wind Over Water, Falling Away】

“Master Shisan — Chun Niangzi does not receive visitors from Jinling.”

“Visitors… from Jinling?”

After leaving Jinling, Ye Liuchun had taken her registration papers to the Office of Music and Entertainment in the capital. The matron there had at first treated her with some condescension — until the day the establishment divided its performers by tier, when she’d played a single piece before the others, eyes lowered, following behind the rest.

Everyone in the office was stunned into awe. Their attitude toward her changed completely.

Performers in the capital held a far higher standing than in smaller towns. According to the matron, someone with talent like hers came along only once in who knew how many years.

The head of the establishment poured enormous effort into training her bearing, her speech, every flicker of expression.

Alluring, but never cheap. Ravishing, but never careless or superficial.

She had to be perceptive, quick to read a room, able to grasp the weight of a moment at a single glance.

Ye Liuchun found herself constantly thinking of the expression Bai Shating used to wear when he looked at her.

She studied it, practiced it, and found it came to her with surprising ease — discovering, to her own surprise, that she had a gift for it after all.

Six months later, she made her first public appearance at a banquet for a court official being sent to a provincial post. A single piece, “The Breaking of Formations,” and she became an overnight sensation.

Nine months later, she earned a word of praise from Gao Ze, and from then on became the most sought-after guest at every banquet hosted by the capital’s high officials.

A year later, on a pleasure boat on the Bian River, the gold and jewels tossed to her by young noblemen nearly sank the little vessel, and flowers piled high atop its roof.

No one disputed it any longer — she had become the reigning courtesan of the capital, its most coveted beauty, worth a thousand pieces of gold and impossible to secure. Scholars vied to write odes to her; she rode on horseback through the streets in dazzling splendor.

Two young attendants followed close at her sides, scattering pale pink and white petals into the air as she passed.

A year and a half later, having earned the trust of the establishment’s head, she took over a pavilion on the other side of Fan Tower along the Bian River and personally wrote out the placard: “Spring Wind, Transforming Rain.”

On the first day the Chunfenghua Establishment opened its doors, Zhou Tan brought his two younger brothers to secretly toast her success. Partway through the gathering, he seemed on the verge of saying something, then held back. Ye Liuchun found it amusing and asked outright, “Young Master Zhou, what is it you wanted to say?”

Zhou Tan raised his cup to touch hers and sighed. “I’d always thought that Shisan would find some way to clear your status, back then.”

Shisan…

It had been a long time since she’d heard that name.

But within moments she’d composed herself, feigning thoughtfulness with narrowed eyes, then putting on an expression of sudden realization. “Shisan… ah, you mean the Thirteenth Young Master from Jinling. We were never especially close back then — there was no need to trouble him over it. I’m doing quite well for myself now. Both you and the young master have been benefactors to me.”

She drained the wine in her cup in one go, the liquid burning a sharp, biting trail down her throat.

Zhou Tan swirled the wine in his own cup, seeming lost in thought. “Then do you know… he’s coming to the capital?”

Ye Liuchun snapped out of her thoughts and heard a light, playful voice from beyond the folding screen: “So the lady doesn’t receive visitors from Jinling — but surely, for an old acquaintance… an exception can be made?”

The maidservant hesitated, unsure how to answer.

Ye Liuchun reclined on the couch and slowly unfolded the flower-patterned note the maid had brought in.

The handwriting on it was achingly familiar — bold, free, effortless.

He had written her a new verse.

“I still remember Little Leaf, caught in the spring wind’s turn — that day, I saw your quiet tears, sorrowful and clear.”

“…The old grievance is plain to see.”

They had first met at the Chunfeng crossing in Jinling, back when she had no name at all — Bai Shating had called her “Little Ye.”

The wind had been strong over the water that day; she’d rubbed her eyes as she stepped off the boat, and a single clear tear had fallen. She’d forgotten all about it — yet he still remembered.

But she was no longer that helpless little girl with nothing to her name, capable only of pitiful tears.

And those memories that had once left her tossing and turning in agony — under his brush, they’d become nothing more than a single, weightless line: “the old grievance is plain to see.”

Ye Liuchun gave a cold laugh.

“Pity my fickle heart, hard to unknot — ten years like a dream… nothing to hold onto.”

When the Chunfenghua Establishment first opened, Zhou Tan had not yet taken the imperial examinations.

According to him, Bai Shating had come to the capital under the pretense of sitting for the exams and searching for his eleventh brother, but for some reason had had a terrible falling-out with his family just before setting off.

The Bai family had cut off his funds.

And so, once in the capital, Bai Shating had begun drifting from pleasure house to pleasure house, making his living by writing verses for the courtesans there.

He had a fine face and honeyed words that came to him effortlessly; even when the girls couldn’t fully appreciate his literary skill, it hardly mattered — he thrived regardless in the world of painted faces and perfumed sleeves.

Later, one of his verses, written while drunk, had somehow leaked out.

The scholars who read it, not knowing its origin, praised it lavishly as a work of great talent.

By the time Bai Shating’s verses had been set to music by the courtesans and were being sung throughout Fan Tower, Ye Liuchun was performing at a banquet for the crown prince.

She had never once imagined she’d have the chance to play for such legendary figures. Once she’d truly gotten to know them, though, she found they were nothing special after all — legends, once stripped of their mystique, always turned out rather plain.

Song Shiyan was fond of her playing. He’d dismissed the attendants and leaned against the railing on Fan Tower’s top floor, half-drowsy, and when her piece finished, he gave a low laugh.

“Chun Niang, your mind was elsewhere today… you missed two notes.”

Ye Liuchun held her instrument and bowed to him without a trace of alarm on her face — she had long since mastered the art of such evasive pleasantries.

“Your Highness is too kind. Just now… I happened to hear a new verse from an old friend.”

Song Shiyan had eyes and ears everywhere in the capital, and merely raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. “Oh? That Thirteenth Young Master from Jinling — an old friend of yours, Chun Niang?”

She toyed idly with the strings and smiled, half in earnest, half in jest. “He was kind to me once. If Your Highness ever crosses paths with him, perhaps, for my sake, you might extend him a little care.”

Song Shiyan laughed heartily. “I hear this Thirteenth Young Master is quite the romantic, adored by many, hasn’t even bothered to buy property in the capital — sleeps wherever the pleasure houses will have him. And here you are, Chun Niang, the undisputed first beauty of the capital, asking me to look after him — yet why hasn’t he come looking for you himself?”

Ye Liuchun finished tuning her lute, plucked a single string, and lifted her head with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile.

“He will.”

In truth, in the year and more since Bai Shating had come to the capital, all either of them had heard of the other was rumor.

The rumors said she was the capital’s foremost beauty of wit and grace, her one song famous up and down the Bian River, young and radiant, tender and full of feeling — the capital had no shortage of women more beautiful than her, yet it was she alone whom the scholars and high officials flocked to. She had opened the Chunfenghua Establishment, and every girl beneath her was exceptional; before long, people said, she would surely become one of the great courtesan-mistresses of the age.

The rumors said Bai Shating was a nobleman’s son turned the most scandalously dissolute of romantic poets, forever haunting the pleasure quarters, his reputation in tatters — and yet he wrote such beautiful verses that even the most solemn, upright men at court couldn’t help but sigh in admiration of his talent.

These legendary figures the rumors described seemed impossibly distant from one another — strangers who might never have met at all.

Ye Liuchun didn’t know why Bai Shating had become this way. In her memory of him, though playful and fond of amusement in his youth, at his core he’d still been a young man of a strict, well-bred family, full of noble aspirations, no different from any other scholar with ambitions for the world.

He should have had his fill of play by now, settled down, passed the examinations, taken office, married, had children — following in his father’s footsteps, advocating for the people, fulfilling that very aspiration he’d once spoken of while holding her in his arms.

What he was doing now was nothing like the man she remembered.

Ye Liuchun knew that Bai Shating would come looking for her one day.

She just hadn’t expected he would write her a verse like this one.

Fickle… he’d been drifting through the pleasure quarters for so long now, who knew how many vows of true love he’d made and forgotten in a moment, to how many women. At least he was self-aware enough to know his own fickleness.

But how could a fickle heart be “hard to unknot”?

All these years apart had become, to her, something as insubstantial as a mirror’s reflection, a flower in water — she would dream of him sometimes, and always what she remembered were the good things: how earnestly he’d once planned their future, wanting to give her a proper place in his life, and how she’d waited by the window for his return, running to embrace him, never willing to let go.

And then they’d spent ten years deeply, tenderly in love, and after those ten years, her beauty faded and gone gray, he’d taken up with someone new — some young girl in the first bloom of youth — walking right past her window without so much as a glance.

She’d found a short blade, then decided the sight of her own blood would be too gruesome, and instead hired a flower-boat on the Qinhuai River, rowed out to the middle of the water, and leapt to her death, ending her life there.

To her, that had somehow felt like a beautiful dream.

Ten years like a dream… nothing to hold onto — nothing at all!

Ye Liuchun stared fixedly at the note in her hand, and realized, to her surprise, that some strange emotion was finally stirring in her — ever since the day she’d left Jinling, she’d often suspected that some part of her had already died; how else could she explain how, like a dried-up well, nothing at all could ever stir a ripple in her, no matter what happened?

At the final line, Bai Shating’s brush seemed to have paused.

As if in jest — or perhaps in light, mocking derision.

—What need has beauty of a thousand coquettish faces?

The extravagant love and beautiful dreams of their youth were, to her, a wound carved into her very bones. To him, they weighed no more than a feather — he knew exactly what she felt, and yet he could take those feelings, twist them onto paper, and use them to mock her transparent little pretense of “not receiving visitors from Jinling.”

If this had been three years ago, seeing this note, Ye Liuchun would likely have reacted exactly as he’d hoped — overcome with heartache, unable to bear it, and would have thrown him out of the Chunfenghua Establishment, forbidding him from ever setting foot inside again.

He would have been thoroughly satisfied, knowing she still couldn’t forget their old bond, knowing his careless, presumptuous little probe had struck her so deeply.

The famous Chun Niangzi of the capital would become fodder for his next verse — a tale of a woman’s heart shattered by love.

Certainly something worth boasting about.

Ye Liuchun’s grip on the note slowly loosened.

She took a sip of the snow-peak tea beside her; the maid had forgotten to add honey today, and it was bitter, almost astringent. But not a trace of it showed on her face.

Setting down the cup, she cleared her throat and said pleasantly to the maid, “He is indeed an old acquaintance. Show Master Shisan in.”

When Bai Shating entered, he saw Ye Liuchun behind the beaded curtain, polishing her moon lute.

Hearing footsteps, she didn’t turn around, only finished settling the instrument at her own unhurried pace before turning to face him, offering a graceful bow.

“Liuchun greets Master Shisan.”

The room was filled with the fragrance of Princess Shouyang’s plum-blossom incense, intoxicating to the senses.

Bai Shating remembered — it had been he and Ye Liuchun together who’d once found the formula for this incense in an old text, and they’d made plans to go gather snow-water and plum blossoms together when the time came.

But winter had never come before she left him.

He gave a scoffing laugh and tapped his folding fan against his palm. “It’s been years, Liuchun. Have you been well?”

Ye Liuchun parted the beaded curtain and walked toward him.

Bai Shating looked at her towering, elaborate hairstyle and, for a moment, felt strangely dazed.

For some reason, the image that surfaced in his mind was that night on the Qinhuai River all those years ago — the girl he’d kissed, her robes in disarray as she played a wanton tune on her lute.

Cool moonlight, breathtaking beauty.

The plum-blossom fragrance pressed close, shattering his reverie.

Ye Liuchun turned to one side and sat down directly on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing a careless kiss to his cheek. “Well now, well now — Master Shisan, how have you been? Have you… thought of me at all?”

Her fingers trailed down his chest, tapping lightly twice.

His throat went dry.

He hadn’t expected this reaction from her at all.

This wasn’t a reunion between old friends — this was how she entertained a client.

Truly, a thousand coquettish faces indeed.

“Since you’ve come looking for me today, Master Shisan,” Ye Liuchun said, leaning against him, swaying gently — the most common flirtation of the pleasure trade, “is it to hear me play?”

Bai Shating’s lashes trembled faintly. “Yes. It’s not easy to see you, and even harder to hear you play… I hear Chun Niangzi entertains only one guest a month?”

Ye Liuchun rose and retrieved her lute, saying nothing more. She casually picked up a jade pick from the table and played him a careless, offhand tune.

Her fingers barely grazed the strings, as if she found it beneath her.

Once the piece ended, Ye Liuchun leaned close, lute still in her arms. “You’ve heard the music, you’ve had your tea, and old friends have seen each other — there’s really no need to reminisce over old feelings, is there? If Master Shisan has no further business, perhaps it’s time to take your leave.”

She kissed his cheek once more and turned to go. Bai Shating reached out from behind and caught the lovers’ knot hanging from the bottom of her lute, gripping it tightly in his hand.

Ye Liuchun’s heart lurched. She didn’t dare even turn her head.

She had no idea whether he’d recognized the knot, and only heard him pause, then give a knowing, confident laugh.

How laughable. Truly laughable… she had disguised herself so carefully, and still it was this single lovers’ knot that gave her away.

Bai Shating pulled her back by the knot, wrapping his arm naturally around her waist, burying his face against her, breathing in her scent deeply.

His voice was low, almost pleading. “I have nowhere else to go. I’ve come here today to beg Chun Niangzi for a favor… take me in.”

Ye Liuchun’s lashes fluttered. She was silent for a long moment before finally saying, “Master Shisan should think carefully. If you’re to stay at the Chunfenghua Establishment… there can be nowhere else.”

She recalled the way he used to look, then turned back to him, brushing his shoulder lightly, breathing softly against it.

“This one might… find you distasteful too.”

Bai Shating laughed loudly. “The feeling, I assure you, is mutual.”

And so he moved in.

Before long, the girls of the capital all knew — the brilliantly talented Thirteenth Young Master had become a permanent guest under Chun Niangzi’s roof, no longer willing to write poems for anyone else.

At first, girls still came around to make a scene, though somehow — through whatever means Ye Liuchun employed — Bai Shating would wake from his sleep, hair disheveled, push open the door to the top floor, and invariably find whoever had come to see him with red-rimmed eyes, pleading pitifully with Ye Liuchun: “Sister Chun…”

Ye Liuchun would comfort them, all the while glancing at him over the edge of her round fan, her lovely eyes betraying no emotion at all — impossible to tell whether it was mockery or pity.

At the very least, it was never anger — he’d seen her angry before.

Though when they’d first met, she’d been timid and withdrawn, like a plant that hadn’t yet unfurled its leaves, he’d seen at a glance the cynical pride hidden beneath.

Beneath that false smile lay her arrogance, her self-regard, her refusal to admit defeat.

It was only much later that he finally understood why.

Though the Bai family pitied his misfortune, they had, in the end, entrusted his supervision to his cousin Zhou Tan, who held office in the capital. Zhou Tan had sought out Ye Liuchun and kept a careful record of everything he did.

One day, he saw Ye Liuchun writing a letter, and in a fit of anger, quarreled with her over it.

Zhou Yang happened to arrive looking for him just then, and witnessed the whole thing.

Zhou Tan had never taken much interest in his affairs — the two of them weren’t especially close, rarely even crossed paths — but Zhou Yang was different. He’d asked around and learned a fair amount about what had happened between him and Ye Liuchun, and seeing him behave this way, ended up in a fistfight with him.

Bai Shating knew exactly what was eating at the boy — Zhou Tan had just been dragged into the Candle-Lighting case a few days earlier, and overnight had gone from an upright, respected official to a man whose reputation lay in ruins, even breaking ties with old friends one by one.

Zhou Yang was probably just looking for someone to take his frustration out on.

Bai Shating, wine jug in hand, mocked him. “That’s your own brother. What do reputation and rumor matter to you? You know exactly how he’s always treated you, don’t you? What’s there to be so upset about — the two of you are far too caught up in all this. If there’s real feeling between you…”

Zhou Yang lunged at him and punched him square in the face.

The two of them brawled in the busiest part of the Bian River district, quickly drawing the attention of the Bureau of Justice. Once word reached Ye Liuchun, she rushed over to visit him.

Bai Shating rarely saw her in such a state — flustered, her hair slightly loosened, her expression no longer as flawlessly composed as usual, a chaotic, moving sort of beauty.

Ye Liuchun asked through the bars whether he needed medicine for his injuries, and, in a moment of impulse, he reached through the gap and pulled her hand toward him.

The people at the Bureau of Justice recognized him and, at his request, brought brush and paper — the ink was poor, so instead they gave him a small pot of vermillion used for sealing documents. He dipped his finger in it and wrote two lines of verse on the pale skin of her forearm.

—Her fine coiffure loosened, her charming eyes turned toward me.

He looked up, saw the moonlight through the small window, and said to her with a smile, “Tonight’s moon is beautiful. When you go home, Liuchun, take a good long look at it for me.”

—Bright moon, still night, the ninefold mountains.

After leaving the Bureau of Justice, the relationship between Ye Liuchun and Bai Shating finally eased somewhat.

Before this, she had truly felt exhausted — whenever she faced him, she had to keep her guard up, remain perfectly composed, terrified of letting any crack show.

He, too, had always worn an ambiguous smile toward her, and neither of them could let go of the past, so they’d simply gone on quietly sparring with each other.

What was the point, Ye Liuchun thought. It was all in the past anyway.

The past was a gray blur, and the future — there was no point looking ahead to that either. These things — as fleeting as a mirror’s reflection, as insubstantial as morning dew — if she could find a moment’s happiness, that moment would be enough.

Without ever saying so, the two of them began behaving like any of the countless ordinary couples in the world — close, in love, quarreling, then making up again.

She worked hard to forget the past, made two good friends besides, and would invite them up to the top floor of the Chunfenghua Establishment for wine whenever she had a free moment.

The world was full of sorrows in every shape and form; she wasn’t the only one carrying old wounds.

When New Year’s Eve came, she and Bai Shating went together to see Zhou Tan off, and in the process, Bai Shating finally found the legendary eleventh brother he’d long searched for.

Afterward, he was despondent for a while, then picked his books back up and prepared for the imperial examinations.

Ye Liuchun found it both amusing and bittersweet — she had never understood, before this, why Bai Shating had put off taking the examinations for so long after arriving in the capital.

Back then, when he’d held her and spoken of the future, there had been such clear hope in his eyes.

He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, and she hadn’t asked. That was all.

This way, at least, she didn’t have to keep wondering whether, once he passed the examinations, he would go on to become exactly what he’d once imagined for himself — a man devoted to the great cause of the realm, seeking a well-born wife, bringing honor to his family name.

It didn’t matter, she told herself. His life had already parted ways with hers long ago.

Everything unfolded exactly as Ye Liuchun expected. After the autumn examinations, Bai Shating’s name appeared on the list of successful candidates, and he became one of the capital’s most sought-after new scholars.

Before meeting Bai Shating, Ye Liuchun had always believed herself the person in this world who most treasured her own life.

After meeting him, for some reason, she found herself constantly plagued by a feeling that disaster could strike at any moment.

Not long into the new year, sudden upheaval struck the capital — Gao Ze, the chancellor who had once praised her lute-playing, was implicated in a grave case involving the loss of the imperial seal, and his entire household was thrown into prison.

It was the crown prince’s doing.

The emperor lay gravely ill, and the crown prince oversaw the affairs of state in his stead — if it hadn’t been his will, who else could have touched a teacher he’d shared such deep affection with?

She understood this all too clearly, and it sent a chill down her spine.

Ye Liuchun had known Song Shiyan for a long time. He loved wine and music, and had been a regular guest of hers ever since her name first rose to fame in the capital.

She was perceptive and knew when to hold her tongue, and so their acquaintance had grown somewhat closer over time.

When it came to her — or rather, in his more guarded, restrained moments — Song Shiyan was always courteous and proper.

He was one of her patrons, but most of his visits to the Chunfenghua Establishment were for private conversations under the guise of entertainment, or simply to listen to her play. He kept himself carefully in check, never indulging in women, and had never once overstepped with her.

But she could tell — the depths of his mind were unknowable, and beneath that composed exterior lived a beast that could turn savage at any moment.

The Gao family was slaughtered to the last member. Gao Yunyue, fleeing, fell into the Bian River and was rescued by Ren Shiming.

Ye Liuchun sent people to gather word of what had happened, and after careful thought, hid the two of them within the Chunfenghua Establishment.

She understood perfectly well that whatever fondness Song Shiyan held for her would not stop him from punishing this act.

But in this life of hers, drifting like fallen petals on the current, friends like Qu You and Gao Yunyue were far too rare. Even knowing it might implicate her, this was something she had to do.

After passing the examinations, Bai Shating seemed utterly unconcerned with his reputation among scholarly circles, coming to see her every single day — though once he took up his official post, he grew busier and came less often.

Everyone at the Chunfenghua Establishment knew him, knew he was Chun Niangzi’s cherished guest, and so he came and went as he pleased, unchallenged by anyone.

But now that she’d taken the risk of hiding Gao Yunyue there, she couldn’t afford to let him continue as before.

Ye Liuchun told him the whole truth, and sternly warned Bai Shating that, since he now happened to hold an official post, this was a good opportunity to distance himself from the establishment — a wise move for self-preservation, one that surely wouldn’t draw suspicion.

Bai Shating listened in silence, and finally looked up to ask, “You’re worried about the danger, and you want to keep me away — but what about you?”

He rose and stepped closer to her. “If Song Shiyan finds out, can you protect everyone in this establishment… and your own life besides?”

Ye Liuchun masked the confusion in her heart with her usual practiced smile. “Shisan needn’t worry. If I dared to hide them here, I surely have a way to see it through.”

Bai Shating, uncharacteristically, didn’t return her smile. He reached out and stroked her neck, as if he wanted very much to strangle it. “You’re… far too bold for your own good.”

Ye Liuchun answered with a smile, “I have something even bolder in mind that I haven’t yet done. Would Shisan like to know what it is?”

Turning the tables, she pushed him back against the gauze curtains and leaned in over him.

He cupped her face and kissed her, an illusion of tenderness in the gesture.

But what tenderness could there really be… they were never meant to be a couple bound by deep, trusting devotion; their kisses and caresses had always felt like nothing more than performance, a game played for show.

Only this time, there was something almost like biting to it — mutual, savage.

Blood and violence, a fight to the death.

Though she claimed not to be afraid, when Song Shiyan next visited the Chunfenghua Establishment, she found herself nowhere near as calm as she’d imagined she’d be.

Her expression remained composed as ever, but as she lifted her hand to serve the crown prince tea, she noticed it was shaking badly.

Song Shiyan noticed her unusual state too, and, with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile, took her trembling hand in his, murmuring suggestively, “Chun Niang, you’ve served me for so long now — what could you possibly be afraid of?”

Ye Liuchun forced a smile. “Not at all. I simply slept poorly last night, Your Highness. Forgive me.”

“Ah,” Song Shiyan said. “I haven’t been sleeping well myself lately either… The person I wish to find, I cannot find. I toss and turn night after night. They say Chun Niang is a flower who understands the heart’s language — I wonder, today… can this particular flower ease my troubles?”

Ye Liuchun pressed her fingers gently to his forehead, masking her unease. “Your Highness has great affairs to attend to. What could this weak woman possibly offer, meddling in matters of the realm? Your Highness flatters me too much.”

Song Shiyan lowered his eyes; she couldn’t read his expression, only caught the unmistakable insinuation in his voice. “Chun Niang… truly unwilling to ease my troubles?”

The Chunfenghua Establishment stood in the most bustling part of the Bian River district. With the emperor gravely ill, a large-scale search now would only stir panic among the common people.

And panic, once stirred, could easily give rise to unrest.

Bold as Song Shiyan was, even he wouldn’t act so directly under these circumstances — it was precisely this calculation that had given her the confidence to take the risk in the first place.

Ye Liuchun forced down her trembling and answered, “This humble one is incapable of such things.”

“Very well, very well,” Song Shiyan said, rising to leave. But just as he reached the door, he suddenly turned back. “Ah, that’s right, Chun Niang — I recall you once asked me, long ago, to look after your benefactor… Young Master Bai the Thirteenth, was it? He should have received his official appointment by now… Excellent. I certainly won’t fail to honor your request.”

She hadn’t expected the crown prince to bring up Bai Shating so abruptly, and nearly lost her composure entirely. Rising to her feet, she caught her own skirt hem and stumbled hard against the table. “Your Highness!”

Song Shiyan turned and walked away without a backward glance. “Chun Niang… until another day.”

Ye Liuchun, thoroughly rattled, scrambled to her feet and, heedless of propriety, chased after him out of the room, only to be blocked by his guards. She could only call out after him, her voice sharp with panic. “Your Highness, this humble one—”

“I gave you a chance.”

Song Shiyan turned back to look at her, seeming to take a certain pleasure in the rare panic on her face.

He raised a finger to his lips, a look of mocking, malicious amusement crossing his face. “Shh.”

Ye Liuchun’s composure shattered entirely.

After the crown prince left, she didn’t even stop to compose herself before rushing alone to Bai Shating’s newly established residence — a gift from Ai Disheng, since he still hadn’t secured a place of his own after receiving his official post, which would have invited ridicule.

She hesitated a moment, but in the end couldn’t afford to worry about propriety, and quietly asked the young servant at the gate to announce her arrival.

She hadn’t forgotten the humiliation of before, and dreaded seeing that same contemptuous look again — but to her surprise, the boy glanced at her once and immediately broke into an eager smile, not even bothering to announce her, leading her straight to the main hall instead.

“Lord Bai said, if Miss Ye ever comes, treat her exactly as you would him — she’s one of our own masters too.”

Hearing the commotion, Bai Shating came out to see what was happening, and was startled to find her there. “What brings you here?”

She had no time to spare for pleasantries, rushing forward to grab his arm, her legs going weak beneath her, nearly collapsing to her knees before him.

Bai Shating pulled her into his arms and waved the servants away. “What is it, what’s wrong, you—”

“I’m sorry…” she forced out, nearly biting her own tongue. “You need to… go back to Jinling soon. Things are too dangerous here in the capital — the crown prince’s reach doesn’t extend that far. Or, or… go to Ruozhou, find Lord Zhou… If it’s any later, there won’t be a chance left.”

But Ye Liuchun had never imagined Song Shiyan would move so quickly.

The next morning, she woke from a fitful sleep to hear her maidservant’s hesitant, halting voice.

The previous night, officials from the Ministry of Justice had arrested several newly appointed scholars throughout the capital. That morning, notices went up declaring that they had voiced dissatisfaction with the emperor’s rule and written poems alluding to sedition.

Foremost among them was Bai Shating, whose verses had circulated more widely than anyone else’s.

History would come to call this the “Chunming Poetry Case.”

Outside her window, the spring day was bright and clear, but Ye Liuchun’s heart had gone utterly cold.

Before she could even begin to think through what to do, she heard a new visitor arrive beyond the curtain.

“Chun Niangzi, His Highness requests… your presence at Fan Tower.”