Zhu Shi gently stroked her daughter’s hair, which was bundled up at the top of her head. Ever since she had taken to wearing official robes, even when dressed as a woman, her hair had mostly been arranged this way — so that whenever she was summoned urgently to the palace, she need only change into her court robes and go at once.
As a woman, she had spent most of her time in the outer courtyard, and her own inner chambers had come to feel almost like a decorative fixture. Yet somehow, because it had become the norm, no one found anything strange about it — and the whispers from outside were far fewer than the voices of admiration.
This was her daughter. However proud she felt on ordinary days, every time she saw her she felt twice as much heartache. Two years ago, that child’s expression had been serene, her face full and healthy — but now she was withered like a flower past its bloom. No matter how carefully she was tended, the decline could not be stopped.
Zhu Shi made up her mind: whatever her daughter wanted, she would see that she got it. Even when the Hua men returned, if any of them dared stand in the way, she would fight them with her life. This family had been preserved by her daughter, who had given everything she had for it — they could only make it up to her.
She gripped her daughter’s hand tightly and swallowed down her tears, though her reddened eyes betrayed her. Even so, she called upon the steadiness that only a mother could muster, and said quietly, “Whatever you want to do, do it. Your mother will stand on your side, no matter what.”
Hua Zhi tilted her head and looked at her mother for a long moment, then smiled and pulled her close. “My mother is so beautiful — the most beautiful person in all the world.”
Zhu Shi gave her a reproving look but could not help laughing in spite of herself. Yet try as she might, she could not press down the ache beneath her ribs. If she could, she would have wished for her daughter to remain as she had been before — quiet and composed, without all this capability, without this vast reputation — only healthy, and able to pass through her days in safety and ease.
The maids were quick and nimble, but even a skilled cook cannot prepare a meal without ingredients. The house had lain empty for two years, and many things needed to be brought over from the other residence. Hua Zhi did not hurry them. With cushions propped behind her and a light covering over her, she lay against the corridor pillar in a drowsy haze, and everyone around her instinctively quieted their movements.
The sun was just right at that hour, falling upon her and wrapping her in something like a halo of light.
Gu Yanxi paused mid-step at the sight of it. The urgency in his chest softened, just for that moment. What a person she was — however much he gave, it never felt like enough; however much he offered from the depths of his heart, it always seemed too little.
Elder Yu, who arrived a step later, let out a quiet sigh. He understood the young lady’s condition better than anyone — but medicine could only treat illness. When a person’s willpower was strong enough to hold even sickness at bay, there was nothing he could do. The illness had only retreated, not disappeared. The moment she began to weaken, it would come rushing back.
Hua Zhi slowly opened her eyes. Catching sight of the two men not far away, she smiled and shifted to sit up a little. No matter how deeply she fell asleep, being watched like that was enough to rouse her.
Elder Yu examined her carefully, then had her move her hand through its range of motion as best she could. After a moment of contemplation, he said, “From now on, acupuncture once a day — there should be some degree of recovery. But whether it can be fully restored, this old man cannot promise.”
Hua Zhi was not surprised. She suspected the nerve had been damaged — whether permanently or in a way that could heal, she did not know. But she had confidence in Elder Yu’s skill. Ancient acupuncture was a truly remarkable art — a pity that so many of its finest techniques had not been passed down.
Perhaps, when she had time, she could compile and organize what was known? Hua Zhi’s eyes brightened at the thought. Suddenly it seemed like an excellent idea.
Unable to receive a clear prognosis, Gu Yanxi was deeply anxious — but he kept it from his face before A’Zhi. He only said, “Should this begin today, or…?”
“I brought my silver needles. We can begin today.”
Just then, Bao Xia came over with a group of maids carrying bundle after bundle of things. Hearing this, she immediately wiped at her reddened eyes and said, “Please wait a moment, miss. This servant will go and prepare a place at once.”
And as she spoke, she took out a soft, plump pillow from among the things and tucked it behind her young miss’s back. It was the seventh month, and they had just walked about in the heat — one would expect to be sweating. Yet her young miss, even wrapped in a blanket, gave off no warmth whatsoever, and her hands were ice cold. Bao Xia quickly retrieved another blanket and tucked it in around her, trying to trap whatever little warmth remained.
“All right, I’m fine.” Hua Zhi looked at the tears dripping onto her lap and smiled gently, soothing her. “From now on, your miss will stay home and not go anywhere. I won’t manage the business either. You’ll all feed me well and keep me comfortable — will you do that for me?”
“You have to keep your word!”
“I promise. I absolutely promise.”
Bao Xia wiped her tears. “The business, we servants can manage. You don’t need to worry about any of it, miss. The one thing we cannot do in your place is serve as Grand Preceptor — everything else, we can handle for you.”
In the sunlight, Hua Zhi leaned against her great pillows and nodded in agreement with a gentle, luminous smile — and yet Bao Xia’s tears fell faster still. She could not say herself what it was that made her cry so.
“This servant will go tidy the room. It will be ready soon.”
Watching the maid leave while still wiping at her eyes, Hua Zhi knew that she had frightened them. But thinking ahead to what was now sure to be a life of idleness and ease, she brightened with anticipation — all her thoughts brimming with happy expectations.
When word got out that the acupuncture was to be performed, the mistresses from every branch of the family came. Though none of them were the sort to shy away from treatment out of excessive propriety, their eldest young miss was still an unmarried woman, and the thought of the needles being administered with the Prince Regent also present gave them all a measure of unease.
Zhu Shi was steeling herself to ask the Prince Regent to withdraw — when he strode forward, dismissed the maids, stepped out of his shoes, and sat up on the bed at the head of it. Then, in full view of everyone, he drew her close and had her lie with her head in his lap. He lowered the bed curtain, and before long, a bare arm extended from within.
Everyone present…
Looking at the arm covered in bruises still far from faded, the several mistresses simply chose to act as though they did not know there were two people behind those curtains. It had already been this long, and still she looked like this — the state she had been in before must have been far worse. Set against that, any hesitation they might have felt seemed like nothing at all.
Behind the bed curtain, the falling of the drapes carved out a small, quiet world of their own. From within, they could make out the vague and shifting shapes of those outside; from without, the light made what lay within indistinct.
In that small world, Hua Zhi boldly pulled the man down and kissed him on the lips, eyes curved with laughter as she looked at her own reflection in his gaze, and mouthed without a sound: “Don’t worry. It will get better.”
Gu Yanxi kissed her lips — once, and again, and again — trying to soothe his own heart. How could he not worry? The A’Zhi of before had been sharp-eyed and keen-edged; the A’Zhi now could not hide the exhaustion written across her brow, her whole being suffused with weariness. She had rarely lost herself in thought before, but now her mind would drift away at any moment, and her reactions were slower than they had been. How could he not worry?
Hua Zhi’s smile was soft and lingering. She nestled against his chest, then patted the place over his heart with her palm and murmured, “There is only room for me in here.”
“Of course. There will be no one else.”
Hua Zhi tilted her head up, the smile spreading from the corners of her lips all the way to the depths of her eyes. “Do not be afraid. I will never leave you behind. Your future will have me in it.”
The voice of a man who stood seven feet tall grew hoarse. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“I’ll hold you to that too.”
They pressed their palms together in a quiet pact. Seeing the shadow of worry between his brows ease just a little, Hua Zhi settled back against him in deep contentment — and slipped into sleep.
She was so very tired.