Yu Suiyun × Su Shiyu — Bonus Story · Part One · Peach Blossoms and Flowing Water

01 · Wildflowers Bloom and Fall After the Rain

There were many banquets throughout the capital, large and small — especially in springtime. Yu Suiyun clutched the sleeve of her mother’s densely silver-threaded robe so tightly that her palm ached from the pressure.

Looking back on it now, she could no longer remember whose banquet it had been.

The spring sun was always warm and gentle, the sky a deep cerulean blue with clean white drifting clouds. She had been very young then, craning her neck to look upward, her eyes blurred by drifting willow catkins — and in that single moment of distraction, her mother had pried her hand free, murmuring low instructions to the maidservant at her side: “Xiao Yue’er, take Suiyun to find the other young ladies to play with.”

Then her mother arranged a full smile across her face and walked toward the crowd gathered around the center of the path. Suiyun stood at the roadside, hearing laughter ring out in the distance, mingled with the sound of pearl hairpin tassels chiming against one another.

That must have been the host family of the day.

It was only much later, reflecting on it, that she suddenly understood — her mother had attended all those banquets, large and small, to cultivate acquaintances among the wives of high officials and nobility, in hopes of smoothing her father’s path in his career.

Although her father had said more than once that this was pointless, her mother always persisted in doing so with the same stubborn devotion. Her mother had not been born into high circumstances; her own family offered nothing to help her husband’s career. In her idle moments, Suiyun had even overheard her mother lamenting that she had held her father back.

She did not know what story lay between her parents, but she had witnessed the tender care each held for the other.

This feeling deepened with the passing years — for after her mother’s death, her father never again took a wife, and never even took a concubine. He left all household affairs to the management of her eldest sister-in-law.

But this is getting ahead of the story.

To return to that banquet: after handing Suiyun to Xiao Yue’er, her mother went off to socialize, while Xiao Yue’er led Suiyun to find the young girls playing in the garden.

The others were very warm and enthusiastic toward this seldom-seen younger sister, but she was simply too young — after an exchange of pleasantries, they left her perched on a stone bench. The girls gathered around a table, each holding a flower lot slip, chattering and discussing something among themselves.

Suiyun blinked, catching only scattered fragments: “Why don’t you give him your flower then?” “That elder brother of that family received two flower branches last year!” “Don’t be embarrassed!”

Before long, the sound of a qin drifted from the front courtyard, and the girls each plucked a flower and hurried away.

Suiyun imitated their example and tried to pluck a flower, but could not reach the blossoms on the higher branches, so she pulled from the roadside a small blue wildflower of no particular distinction.

Clutching that flower, she then lost track of Xiao Yue’er, and by a twist of fate wandered around to the deserted pond in the back garden.

Sunlight fell across the water’s surface in shimmering fragments of liquid gold. Along the bank stood a few willows, their branches trailing tenderly toward the water.

Suiyun found the scene exceedingly beautiful. She followed along the willows, intending to make her way to a pavilion farther in the distance — but barely a few steps in, she suddenly and unexpectedly collided with a drenched young boy standing at the base of one of those willows.

The boy had been leaning against the willow, gazing absently at the water’s surface. He startled at her cry of surprise, turning to cast her a cold look.

He was nothing like the other young gentlemen she had seen at the banquet earlier — some refined, some lively. His face bore none of that carefree expression common to peers his age. Seeing that she was a young girl, the furrow of his brow eased slightly, but his eyes still carried an edge of hostility. “You—”

Suiyun noticed none of this. She only saw that he was soaked through from head to toe, as though he had just climbed out of that very pond.

She stepped closer, asking in a clear, bright voice: “Elder brother, are you all right?”

The boy pressed his lips together and said nothing. She asked again, and only then did he turn his head and say to her with unrestrained bluntness: “Go away.”

The sharpness of his tone startled her, and she involuntarily stepped back — but the ground along the pond’s edge was uneven, and she lost her footing, nearly falling.

The boy was alarmed as well. He leapt to his feet and grabbed her wrist.

Suiyun steadied herself with his help, barely catching hold of the nearby willow — and then the boy yanked his hand back sharply.

He stared at the streak of water left on her wrist with an unreadable expression, his lips moving slightly, but before he could say anything, Suiyun had already flashed him a smile and pressed the small blue flower into his hands.

“Thank you, elder brother!”

Meeting his gaze, Suiyun noticed then that his eyes were rimmed red. After she spoke, she even saw a single tear fall in a swift, fleeting instant.

It fell so quickly that she nearly convinced herself it was a trick of her imagination — but that tear must have been gathering in the boy’s eyes long before she arrived.

Suiyun rose on her tiptoes, wanting to wipe his tears away, but his face was already a mingled map of tears and water, impossible to distinguish one from the other, with nowhere to begin.

She let her hand drop, a little dejected. “Elder brother, my name is Yu Suiyun. What is your name?”

He raised a hand and scrubbed roughly at his face, forcing the corners of his mouth upward in an attempt at a smile that never quite took shape. “I — my name is Shiyu.”

Suiyun asked: “Is it the ‘Shi’ of ‘time’?”

Su Shiyu nodded heavily, then said softly: “But I no longer have the surname…”

He stopped himself halfway through, and sat back down beneath that willow.

Suiyun glanced over. The ground was muddy, but her playful spirit had risen and she paid it no mind — she gathered up her skirt, mimicking his posture, and sat down beside him. “Shiyu elder brother, what are you looking at?”

Su Shiyu gave no answer, only murmured to himself in a daze: “…If my younger sister were still alive, she would be about your age.”

Suiyun’s eyes widened slightly. She did not immediately understand what he meant by “if still alive.”

Su Shiyu looked down and saw the small blue flower in his hand. It seemed to bring him back to his senses, and he turned to her. “I’m sorry, I — I…”

Before he could finish, she heard a voice thick with tears: “Elder brother!”

A slender young man appeared abruptly with a girl in pink clothing. The girl in pink, her eyes brimming with tears, threw herself forward without hesitation and embraced the dripping Su Shiyu. “I heard you fell into the pond — did they bully you! I’ll go settle accounts with them!”

Su Shiyu appeared somewhat at a loss. He reached out to pat the girl’s back and said stiffly: “I’m fine.”

That was the first time Suiyun ever saw Su Luowei.

When she had rushed over to embrace Su Shiyu, the lovely madder-pink outer robe she wore had been soaked through in one patch, turning a shade deeper red than the rest.

In later years, when Suiyun thought of Luowei, that patch of water-soaked hem always came to mind first.

Su Shiyu was led away by Luowei and Su Zhoudu. Before leaving, he did not forget to turn back and give her a somewhat awkward bow in greeting — and the small wildflower remained in his grip throughout, never once let go.

02 · Why Do I Dwell in These Azure Mountains?

After her mother died of illness, the household had few female members, and her father and two elder brothers had no time to care for her. They sent Suiyun to the main Yu family estate in Huizhou, to be raised by her aunt.

And so Suiyun grew up carefree in Huizhou, until her father was appointed Minister of Rites and she was called back to the capital.

That year was the twentieth year of the Changning reign.

The day after Yu Suiyun returned to the capital, she ran to the Imperial Academy to wait for her elder brother to finish classes, only to unexpectedly encounter the grown Su Shiyu on the Imperial Avenue.

He was not at all like before. The sharp, near-bristling intensity of their first meeting had been softened by books and learning, transformed into a composed, gentle warmth.

Suiyun lifted the curtain of her palanquin and stared, transfixed, as the young man in white walked past her carriage.

He was talking with a companion, a faint smile resting lightly on his face, utterly easy and unhurried. If not for the unremarkable cinnabar mole at the outer corner of his eye, Suiyun would barely have believed this was the same elder brother who had once curled beneath a willow tree.

She opened her mouth, almost calling out to him, but swallowed the words back — because she had suddenly realized that he had not truly changed at all. Those eyes of his were still exactly as cold as they had always been.

For a moment she hesitated, and then the young man in white had already walked away into the distance, willow catkins drifting loose and wayward on the wind of the capital, blurring her vision of him.

After returning home, Suiyun had someone make inquiries about him.

Su Shiyu had originally been a child taken in by Su Zhoudu while the latter was managing flood relief in Jiangnan. It was said that when Chancellor Su found him, both his parents and younger sister had already perished in the floodwaters, and he himself had been somewhat mentally disoriented; he had to take medicine for a long time at the Su household before recovering.

When Suiyun heard this, she clutched the handkerchief in her hand and let out a soft “Ah.”

So that was why…that day, leaning against the willow, he had spoken those words.

He had been missing his departed family.

Suiyun felt something ache inside her, but still signaled for the informant to continue.

Su Zhoudu had once intended to claim him publicly as his own son, but word had leaked out from somewhere or other, and the plan had to be abandoned.

Though an adopted son, Su Zhoudu treated him with great devotion, raising him with the same care as Luowei. Once Su Shiyu had come to understanding, he became known throughout the capital for his filial conduct. As Su Zhoudu had been confined to his sickbed for many years, Su Shiyu, when proximity allowed, had spent even more time by his bedside than Luowei.

As the adopted son of Chancellor Su, his academic achievements were exceptional — outstanding even throughout the entire Imperial Academy. But since everyone knew Luowei had long been betrothed to the Crown Prince, to prevent the calamity of powerful relatives, Su Shiyu was in ordinary times careful and measured in speech and conduct, never attempting to stand out or contend with others, and his relations with everyone were kept pleasantly neutral.

Yu Suishan had even mentioned at home that Su Shiyu appeared gentle and courteous on the surface, but was in truth enormously proud and disdainful of associating with them; he also said that his character was exactly like his adoptive father’s — beneath the facade of a modest gentleman, who could say what schemes he concealed.

Hearing this, Yu Suiou disagreed: “Shiyu is an honest man. The reason he does not form deep bonds with others is not disdain — he simply can’t be bothered with the trouble.”

Upon learning that Suiyun had been asking about him, Yu Suiou laughed and teased: “What do you want to know about him for? Don’t tell me you’ve taken a liking to him?”

Suiyun was indignant: “Elder brother!”

Yu Suiou quickly made amends: “After the Mid-Autumn Festival, the Duke of the Yue state is hosting a grand banquet and has invited Chancellor Su and Father. Why don’t you come along? You really ought to be meeting these aristocratic families of the capital — and you’d be able to see this elder brother of yours again.”

Suiyun agreed at once.

That evening, when she hid behind a tree, Luowei discovered her and pulled her out to perform the moon-worship ceremony together with the others. When the ritual was complete, she and Luowei and the rest became fast friends.

She gazed at Luowei’s pink skirts glowing with a soft, tender luster in the moonlight, and remembered the patch of deep red that had been soaked through that day.

She had not understood it then, but now she did: this was the color of flesh-and-blood kinship. Su Shiyu had the love of an adoptive father and a younger sister; these years must have been quite good for him.

Lost in these thoughts, she heard Luowei’s delighted voice: “Elder brother, you came! This is Suiyun, the younger sister from Minister Yu’s family. I must go find Second Elder Brother — could you walk Suiyun around the eastern hill for a bit?”

“Elder brother is the best!”

After bidding Suiyun a warm farewell, Luowei disappeared into the night-dark depths of the courtyard.

Suiyun raised her head to look at Su Shiyu, who now stood a full head taller than her. She cleared her throat lightly before speaking: “Shiyu elder brother, do you still remember me? I am Suiyun.”

Su Shiyu glanced at her but said nothing. She hopped around in front of him, gesturing with her hands to mime the shape of the small wildflower: “That year, by the willow tree at the pond…”

Before she could finish, she heard Su Shiyu give a soft “Mm.”

And so Suiyun smiled: “Father sent me to Huizhou, and it took this long for me to come back. I thought you would have forgotten.”

Su Shiyu, ever sparing with words, replied: “I remember.”

Though Suiyun’s nature was genuinely carefree, she was nonetheless somewhat shy in front of strangers — yet these two words from Su Shiyu fell upon her like some kind of spell, and she immediately let out a long, long breath of relief.

“After that year, I thought of you often. How have you been in the capital all this time? I was very happy in Huizhou — there were none of the capital’s endless social calls and formalities. My aunt treated me like her own daughter, and the elders of the clan were fond of me…”

“The place where I lived had a great peach grove in front — all old peach trees, bearing an abundance of blossoms. Every spring they bloomed across the hillside in all directions. I loved them dearly. I wished you could have seen them too.”

Suiyun was very happy and, without thinking, rambled on at length. When she finished, she realized Su Shiyu had not spoken at all, and she covered her mouth, asking a little anxiously: “Was I too noisy?”

Su Shiyu shook his head.

Just then the two of them arrived at the front of the hall. On the table lay slips of gilded paper — evidently left behind by the girls who had just been drawing flower lots and composing couplets.

He walked directly forward and, seeming to hesitate for some reason, finally sighed softly, picked up a brush, and wrote a new slip.

Suiyun watched from the side. His calligraphy was exquisite — it must have been taught directly by Su Zhoudu.

——”Peach blossoms drift upon the water, flowing silently away; here exists another realm, beyond the world of men.” [1]

When he finished, he extended the slip toward her, his voice very quiet.

“We meet again after a long absence, and I have nothing proper to offer — let me give you this written slip instead. I hope you won’t think it too poor a gift.”

“Not at all, not at all!” Suiyun was both startled and delighted. She took it at once, examined it with great happiness from every angle, then tucked it carefully against her chest. “But I have nothing to give you as a meeting gift either — let me think…”

“There’s no need,” Su Shiyu smiled faintly. “That peach grove is very beautiful. I have already seen it.”

……

On the carriage ride home, Suiyun turned it over and over in her mind, then lifted the curtain and called Yu Suiou, who was riding alongside on horseback, in to join her.

“Second elder brother, do you think — now that Father has called me back, does he intend to arrange a marriage for me as well?”

Yu Suiou rapped her on the head: “Sharp of you, to have figured that out.”

Suiyun pressed urgently: “Then do you know if Father has anyone particular in mind?”

“Not at the moment, it seems,” Yu Suiou considered for a moment and answered. “Father’s standards are very high. In the past, with eldest sister… This time, in choosing a husband for you, he will certainly proceed with utmost care and deliberation, making sure to find you a safe and prosperous place to land.”

He paused, then added: “You bold thing — how old are you, anyway? Besides, what sort of well-bred young lady goes around asking about her own marriage arrangements so openly? Have you no shame at all? But since you’ve said it — have you set your sights on some young gentleman? Oh, I know — it’s that Mister Su, isn’t it!”

Suiyun swatted his arm: “You absolutely must not tell anyone else!”

Yu Suiou laughed and begged for mercy: “Rest assured, second elder brother keeps secrets like a sealed jar — not a word to a soul. Though, come to think of it, I do think Mister Su is a fine one: filial to his father, protective of his younger sister, outstanding in his studies — and what’s rarest of all, he’s never mixed with that disreputable lot in the capital. Father quite likes that sort of person. Only…”

He stopped abruptly and said no more.

Suiyun caught nothing amiss in his words at the time, and only said: “Then, second elder brother, when you get the chance, do help me sound out Father’s thoughts.”

Yu Suiou laughed: “Agreed.”

03 · At the Time, I Thought It Ordinary

After the Mid-Autumn Festival came the Double Ninth, then New Year’s Eve, then the Lantern Festival — one grand occasion after another, with banquets in the capital forming an unbroken chain. Suiyun was on close terms with Luowei and missed not a single one, giving her many opportunities to see Su Shiyu again.

Yet strangely, from that day forward, Su Shiyu seemed to be deliberately avoiding her.

The slip bearing “peach blossoms and flowing water” remained in her keeping; that day, as she had spoken of Huizhou, his habitually cool gaze had unmistakably carried a flicker of warmth. How could he have forgotten so completely in a mere month or two?

She sent him a basket of crabs as a belated meeting gift; he had the crabs prepared into a fine dish, then returned the whole thing to her without touching a single piece. At the Lantern Festival, when she spotted him on the street, she picked up a rabbit lantern and chased after him for a few steps to wish him a happy holiday — but his eyes shifted away, his words became sparse, and he withdrew and departed as quickly as he could manage.

Even when Luowei asked him directly, she could not draw out a single word.

Had she possessed even half the clarity she would later have after entering the palace, she should not have been unable to guess the reason for his evasion.

But at such an age, how could one think so clearly? After several such instances, Suiyun grew somewhat disheartened, and no matter how long she reflected, she could not make sense of it.

Not long after the Lantern Festival of the first year of the Tianshi reign, Su Zhoudu died of illness.

Yu Suiou had not even had time to bring back any news from Yu Qiushi’s side.

The death of his dearest friend left the Emperor stricken with grief, but he still promoted Yu Qiushi to succeed Su Zhoudu as Chancellor.

Overnight, Father became someone of blazing, untouchable prominence. Two streets away, the Su household hung white mourning cloth and sounded funeral music, while Suiyun, within the family compound, watched with wide eyes as delegation after delegation of officials arrived at the door — each face wreathed in smiles — to congratulate Father.

“What a pity that the mourning rites for Chancellor Su have made it impossible to hold a grand celebration for Chancellor Yu.”

“There will be time enough for that, there will be time enough.”

Yu Qiushi took his children to pay their respects at the Su household as well. Yu Suiyun knelt and bowed her head, and stealing a glance upward through the incense smoke at Su Shiyu, who stood before the spirit tablet in mourning white, she saw him return the courtesy with an expressionless face, not once sparing an additional glance in her direction from beginning to end.

Suiyun’s eyes grew hot, and she nearly let her tears fall.

They were clearly separated by only a few steps, yet she felt inexplicably as though those few steps were an abyss — as if no matter how hard she tried, she could not draw one step closer to him.

To her, Su Shiyu behaved exactly as he did toward all those friends with whom he never formed deep bonds: proper in conduct, warm and courteous, a smile always resting on his face — yet within the depths of his eyes, a thick layer of frost had solidified.

Was that person who had wept quietly beneath the willow, who had written her a slip by moonlight — was it really the same person as this?

If it was, why had that person disappeared?

After returning from the Su household, Suiyun fell inexplicably ill.

Yu Qiushi came to see her, and she held his hand, saying: “Father, let me go back to Huizhou for a while longer — at least until I have come of age for the ceremony of adulthood. Then call me back. Would you?”

She departed the capital at a gray, misty dawn, passing by the Su household still hung with mourning cloth.

Luowei had been utterly drained during this period; Suiyun had gone to comfort her once and could not bear to go again. When she left, she only said her goodbyes to Qiu Xueyu and Song Yaofeng.

The Su household had newly suffered a bereavement, and throughout the court and countryside, a heavy, lifeless quiet had fallen — nor was it an appropriate time for arranging marriages. It was precisely for this reason that Yu Qiushi allowed her to return to Huizhou.

Suiyun spent another year and a half in Huizhou. Even A’Yan, the somewhat slow-witted little maidservant who had always accompanied her, could see that she was no longer the same as before.

One day, as the two of them passed along a small stream running through the peach grove, Suiyun paused at the edge of the peach blossom creek, standing there in a daze, absent and hollow. A’Yan asked: “Young Miss, why are you unhappy?”

Suiyun said: “I am not unhappy.”

She stretched out her hand and caught several petals drifting through the air, arresting their fate before they fell into the stream. “I have only grown older. Before, I saw everything in spring as beautiful and fine; now I find that the spring scenery can also be a cause for sorrow.”

A gust of wind came, easily snatching the petals she had caught out of her hands — and so those petals tumbled back into the small stream after all, swept away in an instant by the rushing water.

At the end of the second year of the Tianshi reign, Suiyun returned to the capital.

Youth, after all, asserts itself. Not long after coming back, she was with her maidservants, busy buying pastries at a street stall, and rounding the corner of the Imperial Avenue, she found herself walking straight into Su Shiyu — in white once again — just outside the Imperial Academy.

She had heard he was about to sit for the examinations, which meant he was studying harder than ever.

Su Shiyu saw her and was momentarily stunned, visibly lost in thought in a way that was unlike him — the scholars at his side had called his name several times before he came back to himself.

It was not spring anymore. There were no lingering, reluctant willows. The water all around had frozen into ice.

Seeing her approach, Su Shiyu’s lips parted, as if he wanted to say something. Suiyun’s gaze rested on his face for a moment, then moved quickly away — she brushed past him and had already walked some distance before she realized she had not said a single word to him.

What was there to say? Looking back on it from Huizhou, she had always found it somewhat laughable.

At eleven or twelve years old, she had been so pleased with herself over a single slip of paper that she had thought, without a trace of shame or hesitation, of marriage — a flower falling with feeling, flowing water without care. By now, she really should have thought it through.

That small blue wildflower — in the end, it had only ever been a wildflower.

Yet Suiyun could not quite help herself, and turned her head to look back.

And then she saw Su Shiyu still standing in the distance, watching the back of her figure. When she turned around, he did not shift his gaze — whether he had not come back to himself, or simply did not wish to look away.

With that single glance, Suiyun’s heart began pounding again.

She cursed herself silently for her lack of self-control, yet could not help but feel a flicker of hope — perhaps, perhaps…

——There would be no “perhaps” anymore.

It was not long after that when the Thorned Tangerine Incident broke, Song Lan ascended the throne, and Yu Qiushi, in an uncharacteristic reversal, publicly set himself against the Emperor and Luowei.

The factions at court were clearly drawn. It looked as though the disaster of factional strife was about to repeat itself.

Yu Suiou married Song Yaofeng and brought her into the family. There within the bridal curtains, Suiyun saw the newly-wed bride — who had always loved to smile — sitting with a blank face. Only when she spotted Suiyun did the faintest trace of a smile return to her eyes.

Suiyun sensed something was wrong but did not dare to ask. Song Yaofeng did not want to tell her either; she only stroked Suiyun’s face and sighed: “You are the youngest among all of us. If you would take Luowei and me as your elder sisters, then let me tell you — it would be best, best of all, for you to marry quickly and leave the capital.”

Yet Father showed not the slightest intention of arranging a marriage for her.

Suiyun was anxious and unsettled over this matter, and then, by coincidence, she overheard a servant say that the Son of Heaven was considering selecting consorts for the imperial harem. She stood in a stupor for a long while, then, with A’Yan’s help, finally managed to escape from home and met privately with Su Shiyu.

The meeting place was a secluded little bridge over the Bianhe River. Su Shiyu came as agreed and had even arrived early.

Suiyun was done playing riddles with him. Remembering the gaze that had lingered on the Imperial Avenue not long before, she mustered every last bit of her courage and asked him directly: “Shiyu elder brother — do you have feelings for me?”

Her question was frank and bold. The political situation at court was complicated; though she could not quite read her father’s intentions, she felt that if she did not ask now, she might never have the chance again.

If he nodded — if he could only admit it — she thought naively, perhaps she might be capable of making some scandalous and unprecedented decision.

But Su Shiyu lifted his eyes to look at her, and instead of answering directly, said: “Suiyun, we have known each other for many years. I have no wish to grieve you… Your father is now the most powerful Chancellor, and he is a man who dotes on his children — he will certainly find you a satisfying and fitting match.”

He spoke carefully and circumspectly, yet hearing it, Suiyun felt an acidity rise in her chest — slow and heavy, cutting a dull ache.

Still unwilling to give up, she asked again: “I don’t want to hear any of that. I only want to know — do you…”

“What matters most to you?” Su Shiyu cut her off, not raising his eyes. “What matters most to me is my family. The first time we met, I was utterly alone in the world. In these years, I have come to have family as well… What I have ever wanted has always been very little — like a dog that needs only one bone. I want to protect my family. Their choices are my choices; their position is my position.”

“Is it not the same for you?”

His voice was very quiet, yet it abruptly shook her free from a dream without visible edges.

Choices. Position.

——So without her awareness, so many things had accumulated between them.

A person living in this world is never a solitary soul — one must always look ahead and behind, repay kindness and settle grudges. Born into this place, raised by one’s parents, so long as one has a heart and feelings, nothing can ever be decided by oneself alone.

That answer became irrelevant.

After a long silence, Suiyun made a sound of assent, and casually pulled from her sleeve a worn old slip — the one on which he had written “peach blossoms and flowing water.”

All these years she had carried this humble meeting gift with her, pretending not to know him even as she could not bring herself to throw it away.

She tore the slip casually into several pieces and scattered them in a rustling cascade before him, then turned and walked away. She had only taken a few steps when she heard Su Shiyu call her name behind her.

“Suiyun——”

She had thought she would never hear a tremor in the habitually calm Su Shiyu’s voice — yet she heard one now. But she resolved to pretend she had not heard it: “Shiyu elder brother, go back early. I must be going too.”

Su Shiyu was silent for a long while, and in the end said only: “I wish you a wonderful husband, a happy and fulfilling life, and a hundred years of health.”

……

One night, Suiyun finally learned that Yu Qiushi did indeed plan to send her into the palace, to become Song Lan’s Noble Consort.

In truth, Yu Qiushi’s decision to send her into the palace — as well as his agreement to Yu Suiou’s marriage — were his final, guilt-laden arrangements for his children after he had resolved to die in loyalty to his cause. But falling upon the ears of Suiyun at that time, every word her father spoke of “for the family” and “for the sake of his career” sounded entirely real.

By the time their quarrel was over, Yu Qiushi pressed at his brow with some weariness, his voice softening: “If you can steel your heart, strip away all the wealth and privilege around you, leave without a single coin to your name, and go to find your beloved — and if he is willing to take you in, willing to cast aside his official position and wander with you freely — then Father…will not force you.”

Yu Qiushi never said things out of anger. If she truly made that decision, he would let her go.

Only now did Suiyun understand: that night she had sought him out, stubbornly trying to force out that single sentence — it was all so that when Father spoke those words today, she could say with firm certainty: “He would agree.”

But he would not agree.

Even “beloved” and “sweetheart” were only names she had given him out of her own wishful thinking.

She had never, not for a single moment, resented growing up — but if she were still as naive as she had once been, hearing her father’s words might have kindled at least a flicker of hope; she would still have wanted to ask him before giving her answer.

Now she already knew his answer with perfect, absolute clarity. What was the point of asking again?

It would only stir up grief.

Suiyun collapsed onto the floor, cradling the silk flower she had trampled flat, laughing silently to herself.

In the middle of the night, she woke with a start, threw on her clothes like someone gone mad, and paced through the garden, desperately searching for that same kind of small blue wildflower — but after searching for a long, long time, she came away with nothing.

When daylight came again in full brightness, Yu Qiushi pushed open the door and walked in to find Suiyun kneeling in the courtyard, where she pressed her forehead to the ground in a deep bow.

“Father, I am willing to enter the palace,” she said. “Father and my elder brothers are the most important people to me. For your sakes, I will certainly make His Majesty pleased.”

Author’s note:

Note:

[1] “Peach blossoms drift upon the water, flowing silently away; here exists another realm, beyond the world of men.” — Li Bai, ‘Mountain Dialogue’