Yuan Shao Ren flipped through the pages and found a Xue Tao letter paper at the bottom with a “Qing Ping Le” poem written on it:
“Past life dims and brightens,
Dream-scattered orchid petals flutter.
Sudden rain drums windows through the chaotic night,
Frost moon spans the earth and sky.
Jin Ling’s mists swirl endless,
Best not to speak of soul-breaking memories.
Through ages, the passionate mock me,
Still harboring regrets for spring winds.”
It was signed “Lan Xiang Hermit.” The calligraphy was elegant and graceful, extremely refined. Beside the poem was drawn a half moon through the mist, and in the bottom corner, an orchid branch with a cluster of secluded bamboo. Though just a few strokes, they revealed profound artistic skill, creating a harmonious composition.
At first, Yuan Shao Ren thought it merely a maiden’s composition, but upon deeper appreciation, he sensed something different. The poem truly contained both sweetness and sorrow, unlike those that “force melancholy into new verses.” Reading it again, a sense of desolation and loneliness emerged through the paper.
Chu Da Peng came over and asked: “Brother, what have you so entranced? What are you looking at?”
Yuan Shao Ren tapped the letter paper and smiled: “Interesting. How old is Ying Yang’s cousin? What ‘past life’ or ‘old matters’ could she have experienced? Though these paintings are truly excellent – didn’t expect she’d be such a talented lady.”
Chu Da Peng said: “Without some ability, how could she catch our Brother Lou’s discriminating eye?” Seeing Yuan Shao Ren’s meaningful look, he chuckled, patting Yuan Shao Ren: “Alright, Brother, stop pretending not to understand. You’re older than us, what don’t you get? Would an ordinary ‘cousin’ have Lin Ba Wang frantically pounding on your door in the middle of the night, mobilizing troops to search for her? You didn’t see him at the temple – when he found no one there, Lin Ba Wang’s face turned green, his eyes nearly popping out, looking ready to eat someone. I’d never seen him like that before – quite frightening to think about.”
Yuan Shao Ren started, then smiled: “So all that commotion in Jin Ling, searching everywhere for a young woman in her teens, was for her?”
Chu Da Peng said: “Exactly! We must have Ying Yang bring her out so everyone can see if she’s a heavenly maiden descended to earth, to bewitch Lin Ba Wang like this.”
Yuan Shao Ren smiled and shook his head. He had never been interested in Lin Jin Lou’s romantic affairs. Even though this one could paint beautifully and compose good poetry, he remained indifferent. He had always kept his distance from such melancholy women who loved composing poems and painting – talented, yes, but their constant emotional state was stifling. Moreover, such women typically had unfortunate fates – Li Qing Zhao, Zhu Shu Zhen, Tang Wan, Ban Jie Yu – which of them had lived a blessed, long life?
Yuan Shao Ren ordered Xiang Lan’s belongings packed into a chest and brought to the Lin residence in Yang Zhou. The doorman was particularly welcoming, ushering them in. Only upon entering the courtyard did Yuan Shao Ren learn Lin Jin Lou wasn’t there. He intended to leave after dropping off the items but spotted someone standing by the ornamental gate. With his keen eyesight, he saw it was a woman, standing there with an upturned face, gazing dreamily at a flower branch on the wall. She had an extraordinary bearing, with dark hair arranged in a cicada-wing style, captivating eyes, concentrated brows, and extreme beauty. Her figure was graceful and elegant, wearing a light yellow apricot-colored top and bright green skirt. Standing beneath a peach tree, she was even more delicate and lovely than the peach blossoms.
Yuan Shao Ren froze, staring in a daze, as if seeing someone else, murmuring: “Lian… Lian Niang…”
Xiang Lan bent down to pick up a fallen flower and held it to her nose to smell. As she turned to leave, she suddenly noticed a man standing outside the second gate, wearing fine clothes, tall and robust in build, with sword-like eyebrows and star-bright eyes, a broad face and straight nose, an imposing appearance, with a mustache – though young, he looked mature. Xiang Lan quickly moved aside to avoid him, thinking: “How strange for a man to appear so suddenly, and how improper to peer into the inner courtyard… Looking at his appearance and bearing, he’s no ordinary person, must be a high-ranking official.”
Just then, Ling Qing called from the window for Xiang Lan to come drink her tonic soup. Xiang Lan responded and walked back, unable to resist one last glance back – seeing the man still standing at the second gate, looking in, she quickly turned away, lifted her skirt, and hurried inside.
After Xiang Lan left, Yuan Shao Ren took a long breath and slowly covered his face with his hands. This woman must be Lin Jin Lou’s “cousin,” and her bearing and manner strongly resembled someone from his past – Shen Jia Lian, granddaughter of Shen Wen Han, the former Emperor’s Chief Minister, who was later exiled with her family. Ten years ago, she had become his concubine, and now was just a mound of yellow earth on a green grave.
He stood motionless, seeing only the empty courtyard, where a gentle breeze scattered red petals across the ground.
Xiang Lan, having finished her soup and feeling bored, wanted to read some books to pass the time. Ling Qing went to the front study and after searching, brought back two volumes of poetry and two Buddhist scriptures. Xiang Lan leafed through them listlessly while Ling Qing and Ling Su altered clothes nearby, speaking very softly.
Near noon, when it was almost mealtime, the wind suddenly rose, and within moments the sky darkened as fine rain began falling. Ling Su hurried to close the windows, saying: “Rain out of nowhere, Madam should put on another layer.” While speaking, she busied herself setting the table.
The kitchen prepared four dishes and a soup. Since Xiang Lan was just recovering, there was nothing particularly rich or greasy, just two or three delicate vegetable dishes, tender tofu, and a plate of elegant fruits and pastries. While Xiang Lan was eating, Lin Jin Lou returned, half wet, and said to her: “Keep eating.” He took a towel to wipe his face while the maids hurriedly opened trunks to get clean clothes.
Lin Jin Lou had come to Yang Zhou in such a hurry that he hadn’t brought any clothes. The Yang Zhou residence only had two old garments he’d previously left there. When buying clothes for Xiang Lan the other day, he’d added some for himself, mainly for social occasions.
After washing and changing, Lin Jin Lou sat beside Xiang Lan and looked at the dishes on the table, then said: “Add two more dishes. I was entertaining outside at noon and didn’t eat much substantial food.”
Fortunately, the kitchen was prepared and soon brought two more stir-fried dishes, bright and fresh-looking, though nothing extravagant. Though Lin Jin Lou was particular about food and drink, his time in the military had made him less picky, and he began eating with his chopsticks.
Xiang Lan had already finished eating, but with Lin Jin Lou’s return, she couldn’t leave him alone. She kept half a bowl of soup and sat beside him, lost in thought. Though she was no longer as afraid of Lin Jin Lou as before, she still felt uncomfortable being alone with him – an indescribable feeling that left her awkward.
Lin Jin Lou glanced at her a couple of times and used his chopsticks to pick up a piece of soft pastry for her.
Xiang Lan looked at him.
Lin Jin Lou swallowed his food with effort and said: “Eat a bit more. You’ve been sick these past days and eaten so little – the weight you’d gained will be gone again.”
Xiang Lan made a sound of acknowledgment but couldn’t eat the pastry on her plate. She poked at it with her chopsticks, bored, making several holes in it.