It was a fine sight — but the cold was vicious, and they could not stand long. At last the dense smoke inside the room thinned, and the two of them, carrying the chill of the outside air, went back in. The clay pot and the brazier were in a state of ruin. The disaster had been Li Chenjian’s doing, so naturally he was the one to clean it up. But now they faced a difficult question: should they light the charcoal again, or not?
If they did not, there would be no hot water for washing up that night, which would be inconvenient. If they did, lit charcoal was not easily extinguished once burning, and would go through several pieces at a time. At night it could not be left in the room — the risk of carbon poisoning was real. Moving fresh-burning charcoal outside to cool would be a terrible waste.
Yun Pan’s view was not to bother — making do for one night would not be a great hardship. Li Chenjian’s view was that they ought to — a young lady had her habits, and there was surely a need to wash and refresh herself. Having brought her here, if he begrudged her even a fire, his failure as a man was complete and without remedy.
Yun Pan thought for a moment. “Then just a few small pieces.” She crouched beside him and watched as he coaxed the tinder to catch.
The black charcoal crackled to life. Yun Pan stared at the rack above the brazier for a while, then said, “I understand now — the clay pot was too close to the fire. Just lifting the lid did nothing. We need to find a way to raise the pot higher. With the heat reduced, the porridge won’t boil over.”
Li Chenjian, who had just finished scrubbing the pot clean, heard this, went outside into the courtyard, and came back with three bricks. He set them in front of the brazier and said with determined spirit, “Let’s try again. The fire is already lit — might as well make good use of it.”
This time, wiser from experience, they added the right amount of rice and water. When it looked on the verge of boiling, they raised the three-legged rack on top of the bricks. The method worked perfectly — the rolling of the liquid inside could now be controlled just so. To the soft clatter of the lid being jostled, they washed up, and by the time they sat back down at the brazier, he had already ladled the finished porridge into bowls.
In the depths of winter, on a cold night, to drink a bowl of piping hot porridge — what great happiness! On the indeterminate-looking wooden table were two small dishes, each holding a little pickled vegetable. Thin porridge with crunchy cucumber strips — each bite made a crisp snapping sound. Like the ordinary farm family, they were living a simple and sparse life. Hard though it was, something inside felt full and whole.
The late-night snack finished, they both felt a pleasant heaviness in their limbs. They could not be bothered to wash the bowls — they left them soaking in water, to be dealt with in the morning. They brushed their teeth quickly and got into bed. Their feet were cold as ice; he took hers in his hands and cupped them against his body for warmth. Neither of them felt sleepy, so they lay close and talked — about their childhoods, about their separate lives in the capital before the wedding.
This topic had been started by Li Chenjian, who was very curious about everything that had happened to her at the Duke of Shuguo’s estate. With the patient persistence of water wearing through stone, he asked her how she had spent her years as an unmarried girl.
Yun Pan told him about making incense, arranging flowers, and whiling away the hours with her cousin Mei Fen. He listened and smiled. “It turns out there are many interesting things in a young woman’s world too. Before, I imagined you all only knew how to play chess and pluck the qin strings… Those materials you used for making incense — were they all kept on hand at home? What happened when something ran short — surely then you couldn’t make it?”
Yun Pan said no. “You could always go out and buy what was needed. There are many spice merchants at the tile market who cater to ladies.”
He said ah. “But Mei Niang at that time hardly left the house. And you were newly arrived — wouldn’t it be quite inconvenient for you to go out alone?”
He wore a deep smile as he looked at her sincerely — not a trace of jealous undercurrent.
Yun Pan, not sensing anything, answered honestly, “Before the wedding, I only went to the tile market once, and it was Xiang Xu who took me. I had meant to drag Mei cousin along, but she absolutely refused to go out, and there was nothing I could do. I had been about to give up, but then Xiang Xu told me that the honey-fried persimmon blossoms at the South Bridge Tile Market were delicious, so I went with him to try them. Those persimmon blossoms — they were refreshing to eat and lovely to look at too. You know the seventy-two restaurants of the capital — each one has its signature dish, and those chefs have such incredible skill. Unlike the two of us — we can’t even make porridge without ruining it. Tomorrow I’m thinking of trying to make tadpole noodles, though who knows what sort of disaster that will turn into.”
Li Chenjian’s thoughts were not on the fried persimmon blossoms, nor on the tadpole noodles. His attention was fixed entirely on Xiang Xu. He continued probing circuitously: “The day I went out with the constables, I saw Xiang Xu. I hadn’t expected him to arrive so quickly.”
Yun Pan said, “When the Remonstrating Advisor entered the palace to impeach you, he happened to be present. He argued for you, but to no effect. Because of that he was the first to know when something had happened to the estate — he was the one who informed my father-in-law, and that’s why my father-in-law hurried over.”
He said that explained it. And in the same motion he reached over and tucked the cotton bedding more snugly around her shoulders, smiling as he said, “Xiang Xu is a man who values loyalty. They all say he turns a blind eye to the affairs of the world and keeps his mind only on his books. But to my eyes, he also carries a full heart of passion.”
Yun Pan agreed, “But scholars are reserved — they do not show it on the outside as a matter of course.”
Who knew that after she said those words, she would find his expression turn blank, his gaze cool as he stared at the ceiling and said nothing. Yun Pan dimly sensed something. She was not a slow-witted person — she understood what feeling Xiang Xu had for her, and though it had long been a thing of the past, having it come up unexpectedly like this still left her a little flustered.
Could it be that he had detected something? Was he jealous, over what had been nothing more than a hazy, youthful sentiment?
She suddenly felt the urge to laugh. This man who handled affairs of such magnitude — confined in this small square of the world, with nothing to occupy him, had begun to turn his attention to such trivial matters.
Still, she could not address it directly. It was better for two people to understand each other without words. So she went around it: “Actually, in Elder Brother’s eyes, I am the same as Mei Fen. My mother had only me. Though there are a few younger siblings in the Marquis household, it is as if they were not there. My aunt and my mother were sisters who loved each other deeply, and so Elder Brother always looked after me. In my heart I regard him as I would an actual elder brother.”
He made a vague sound. “You may regard him as an elder brother — but others may not see it that way… I am a man. I know…”
He muttered to himself, clearly troubled but still trying to look indifferent about it — affecting a lofty air, gazing away at nothing in particular.
And then the person in his arms went quiet. A moment later she began to shake. He was alarmed, and quickly looked down at her — only to find her laughing silently without making a sound.
He flushed red immediately. He said in a grave tone, “What are you laughing at?”
Yun Pan said, nothing, and closed her eyes. “Let’s sleep.”
With something left hanging like this, could he sleep tonight? At a moment like this he seemed no longer able to stand on dignity. He shook her lightly. “How do you honestly see Xiang Xu? I know — if not for me, you would have married him.”
Yun Pan recalled a time when her aunt had spoken with her, and Nanny Yao had been there adding her voice to the conversation. The intention to make a match had been clear enough. But then, by such chance — the Empress Dowager had summoned her aunt to the palace and raised the matter of the commission concerning Mei Fen. Her aunt, feeling Mei Fen was not suited to the role, was how the marriage had fallen to her instead.
She tilted her face up and rubbed against his chin affectionately. “Don’t you think we’re meant to be? Even though I nearly ended up betrothed to Xiang Xu, I ended up married to you in the end. I am not a person who easily loses herself in matters of the heart. My mother’s story has always been a lesson that weighed on my heart. I had thought I would go my whole life without confiding in a husband. Even if I were married, I had planned to be like my Aunt Jin — to do my duty faithfully and nothing more. But then I met you. You are so good. You have helped me. You have treated me with sincerity. And I am not made of stone — how could I fail to recognize that?”
He listened, and a faint trace of joy appeared between his brows. “So even if Xiang Xu were not to marry, it would have nothing to do with you — is that right?”
Only then did Yun Pan realize just how much he had been turning over in his mind. So his earlier mention, as if in passing, of Xiang Xu and Nianzhi’s match having fallen through — that had not been idle talk. It had been a deliberate probe.
She said, no. “There is still a bit of a connection.”
He frowned again. “You just said you regard him as an elder brother.”
She put on a show of troubled concern. “Xiang Xu not marrying — that would be a constant weight on my Ji Fu’s mind. With so many things already in that mind… let me think… no wonder he keeps getting thinner and thinner. So how could I say it has nothing to do with me?”
He was exasperated by her teasing and rolled over, kissing her in a fit of mock pique, murmuring between kisses, “In any case I never have to worry about such things again. Even if he adores you, you would not choose him.”
She reached out two slender arms, pale as snow, and crossed them behind his neck. In the icy air she felt no cold at all. Smiling, she said, “I’m already married — how could I choose anyone else? Actually, you don’t know this, but I’m always afraid I’m not good enough — not worthy of you…”
His heart softened into a pool of tenderness. Nuzzling close, resting in her warmth, he lightly touched her lips and murmured, “Nonsense. What woman in the world has your courage and your resolve — willing to lower herself to live with me in this small forgotten place, in my fallen state.”
Perhaps it is hardship that is the true remedy for deepening feeling between two people. What had begun as a courteous and correct regard had gradually become the kind of bond that holds fast through everything, the kind born of shared necessity. In the humble room a warmth like spring — and now and then a golden oriole sang softly.
Utterly exhausted, they slept until the daylight was broad and bright. The sun had come out. They pushed the door open, got up, and stood under the eaves to look around. The high walls were still as desolate as ever. The wild weeds growing along the tops had withered, their dry and brittle stems swaying in the cold wind — rootless-looking and forlorn.
Yun Pan called to him and carried the bedding to a sheltered spot to air in the sun. Then she crouched by the brazier to begin kneading dough.
Starting with a small amount to try — she added water, and in an inattentive moment added too much. The flour clung to her hands in a sticky mass she could not work. So: more flour for the excess water, more water for the excess flour. What had started as a lump the size of an egg gradually swelled to the size of a fist.
He finished making the bed and came to watch. He studied the situation for a while, then suggested, “Try warm water?”
Nothing to lose at this point. They gathered the dough together, made a small well in the center, and poured in warm water. Kneading did seem to become somewhat easier after that. Though in the end the dough was still wet and stuck to her hands, she firmly believed she had succeeded. With great effort and determination she rolled the dough into small pieces the size of tadpoles. When the guard delivered broth at midday, she put them in the clay pot, reheated everything together, and added the dough pieces in… The taste was quite ordinary, but she felt very pleased with herself.
He said, “At this rate you are going to get plump.”
Yun Pan chewed her dough noodle and reflected, “Plumping up while under confinement — one wonders what the sovereign would make of that.”
They exchanged a glance and smiled quietly at each other.
In the afternoon, with nothing to do, Li Chenjian took to painting. He painted a golden oriole picture — not in the usual spare composition. Instead of a bleak branch holding a single bird, he painted two plump little orioles nestled against each other amid thick and leafy branches. One had its beak open, pecking at an insect; the other had full, round cheeks, and was squinting contentedly, half-leaning on its companion. Detailed brushwork, rendered to the last fine line. Beside it he added two short lines of verse: Amid the red dust’s endless play, the humble room is full of splendor.
Yun Pan mixed flour and water into a paste, dabbed it on the four corners of the painting, and carefully pressed it onto the head of the bed. She tilted her head to admire it for a long while, then said, “When we leave, we’ll peel it down, have someone mount it properly, and pass it down through generations.”
The picture was full of childlike spirit. Perhaps every man carries a young boy inside him. Being confined here was an unfortunate thing, and yet it had given her a chance to know him fully. She had always thought of him as composed, steady, high above — never imagining he could have such a delightful soul.
He was washing his hands in the basin, and said with a smile, “I can also paint portraits. If it’s clear tomorrow, you sit in the sunlight, and I’ll paint a picture for you — I shall call it Portrait of Li Ji Fu’s Lady.”
Yun Pan agreed with pleasure, and was just about to tease him back when she heard the sound of footsteps at the courtyard gate.
The courtyard was small, but there was still a distance of two or three zhang between the gate and the main room. Whatever sound reached them inside must have been quite considerable.
She turned her head in alarm toward Li Chenjian. The smile withdrew from the corner of his lips; his expression grew grave.
The bolt scraped back with a clatter, the courtyard gate was pushed open, and a group of men in armor entered — each face grim and unsmiling. Li Chenjian murmured to her quietly, “It is men from the Court of Judicial Review.”
The Court of Judicial Review — a nightmare throughout this whole ordeal. Yun Pan tensed and seized his hand. She watched the leader stride in and stop before the doorway, where he bowed inside. “Duke Wei, please follow us.”
Li Chenjian returned the bow. “May I ask, Commander Qian — on whose orders have you come to summon me?”
The officer still addressed him as Duke, but this surface courtesy was nothing more than ingrained habit — not any actual deference. Li Chenjian knew this; so did Yun Pan.
Commander Qian said blankly, “We are dispatched by the Chief Justice of the Court. We invite the Duke to come to the Court of Judicial Review — there are certain important matters to put to the Duke.” As he spoke he stepped aside and gestured toward the exit. “After you, Duke.”
Politely worded, but this was no invitation — it was an escort under guard. Yun Pan had thought that once inside the Western Side Gate, the worst was already upon them. She had not expected there would still be a day of formal interrogation. She had worked so hard just to get to his side, and now they were taking him away again. Suddenly she felt as if she had fallen into the middle of an ocean — engulfed in a boundless, helpless desolation.
He saw that her eyes were bright with tears and said gently, “The Court of Judicial Review oversees the re-examination of decided cases and matters of restoration of office and official exoneration. Perhaps the sovereign wishes to re-examine the ‘edict character’ case. Don’t worry — nothing will happen. Compose yourself first. Do not frighten yourself. I will be back quickly.”
She nodded with difficulty, pressing for certainty: “Quickly — before dark, can you be back?”
He did not answer. Even he could not be certain. Where things went from here was entirely in others’ hands.
He let go of her, turned, and walked out.
The guards outside parted to make a path. It was only one man being summoned for interrogation, and yet seven or eight men had come. They surrounded him as they walked out. Yun Pan followed all the way to the courtyard gate, calling out in bewilderment: “Ji Fu… Ji Fu…”
He turned to look back at her. But this time, before he could speak, one of the guards shoved him from behind and said roughly, “Move along — stop dawdling!”
That single gesture, wherever it might have occurred, would have been enough to undo her. She held her tears back and moved to follow, but the courtyard gate slammed shut with a boom. This was a restricted place. Even those who had entered of their own free will could not leave without permission.
Once again they were separated. She was utterly sick of this situation, and yet she was powerless. All she could do was press her face to the crack in the gate and watch him grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
The passage ran straight, deep and long. Through the wind and snow she watched him raise a hand to cover a cough, his body curving slightly forward. Those cold-blooded people would not care whether he was cold or unwell. Likely because they resented having to carry out their duties in the depths of winter, the moment his step faltered the slightest bit, there would be a sword hilt jabbed into his back.
Yun Pan sank to the ground. He had spent his life accustomed to being above others, and now he was at the mercy of these lowly guards. How could she not ache for him? They had taken him away, and she was trapped here in this gate with nowhere to go. Even if she wanted to work through someone to intervene, she had no means to do so.
There was nothing to do but pray nothing would go wrong. But this interrogation lasted a very long time. She waited from the afternoon until dark, then from dark until deep in the night. She went out to look at the moon — a full round moon hung at the center of the sky. It was already the hour of midnight, and still he had not come back.
What matter required questioning for so long? Was it not only the matter of the “edict character”? Yun Pan began to blame herself. When the Empress Dowager had arranged her marriage to Li Chenjian, she had openly said it was to have Yun Pan watch her husband’s conduct — but what she truly wanted was for her to expose the other two Dukes. She had always clung to her principle of not harming others, but she could only hope the wives of the other Ducal households would not come to falsely accuse Li Chenjian in return. It was best for everyone to stay out of each other’s way. But perhaps she had been wrong. This fight for the throne was a struggle of life and death. If she had acted earlier, and managed the Empress Dowager’s expectations with some cleverness, perhaps things would not be so passive now.
She thought many things that night. She did not sleep at all. The city’s roosters crowed their first call — still two hours until dawn. She sat leaning against the wall and looked up at the golden oriole painting at the head of the bed. She could not understand why they had to go on suffering like this without end. The sovereign had likely listened to someone’s slander again. Once he had turned against a person, it seemed he could not stop.
Barely holding on until daybreak, she could no longer wait, and asked the guard who came with food whether she could go out.
The guard shook his head at once. “We only take people in here — we have no authority to let anyone out. Even if I were to throw my own life away, I’d still have to think of my whole family’s lives. Please understand, Madam.”
She couldn’t go out. What then? She stood there in a daze. The guard glanced at her and said with clumsy comfort: “Madam, don’t worry — wait a little longer. If by nightfall today he still hasn’t been sent back, after I come off duty I’ll go to the Court of Judicial Review and see if I can find anything out.”
Yun Pan considered for a moment and said, “Asking around outside the court building won’t do much good. Please do me the favor of going to the Duke of Chenguo’s estate instead, and let the Duke know that the person has been gone a full day and night without returning. Then go to Sunny Window Records on South Bridge, and leave word for the head nanny there — ask her to request through the Chief Justice’s wife whether anything can be learned about the Duke’s condition.”
The guard agreed readily, pounding his chest in assurance: “Leave it to me.”
But as fortune would have it, by late afternoon they finally brought him back.
When the courtyard gate opened, he stepped through the threshold himself. At first Yun Pan only noticed that his gait was unusually heavy. She hurried toward him — but the moment the gate shut behind him, he suddenly collapsed, limp and without a sound.