Winter days grew dark early. Even with the bright midday sun still high overhead, barely an hour had passed before that brightness had already faded away entirely. The sun, its edge dulled, hung listlessly at the far end of the sky. The station keeper cleared away the tables, chairs, and tea things outside the post station, then turned and bowed to Yun Xi, greeting her. “Captain, ma’am.”
Yun Xi nodded.
With nothing to do at the moment—there was little she could do to help with Yu’er’s cramping—she watched the maid fill a copper hand-warmer with hot water and wrap it up for Yu’er to hold against her belly, then went out on her own to sit leaning against the doorframe.
In the early winter season, everything around had withered. With nothing to occupy her, Yun Xi absently plucked a few blades of dry grass from the ground and tied them into knots, her mind drifting idly from one thought to another.
The game of knotting dried grass had been something Yun Luo had taught her long ago, back on the northern frontier. A few blades braided together loosely looked, for all the world, like a many-jointed insect grown a fringe of whiskers.
Thinking of Yun Luo brought Fang Fulan to mind.
She was, in fact, a little slow to realize it, but ever since learning of Cheng Chang’s disappearance, she’d rushed out heedless of everything else to search for him. Over these past two months and more, she’d only sent one letter home to say she was safe. Now, about to return to the capital, she found herself feeling somewhat uneasy.
Only now did she realize just how much worry she’d caused Fang Fulan—otherwise, someone as even-tempered as her sister-in-law would never have gone to the trouble of asking a young prince she barely knew to try and persuade her to come home.
Besides, her sister-in-law understood her feelings perfectly well.
Having finished tidying the tables and chairs, the station keeper came out to enjoy some idle time, sleeves tucked in against the cold, and seeing Yun Xi still sitting by the doorframe, struck up conversation. “Captain Yun, you’ve been away from home for quite some time on this journey, haven’t you?”
Yun Xi said, “Mm, over two months now.”
“That is quite a while. Your family must be worried sick waiting for you.” The station keeper said, then added with a smile, “Still, as long as the job gets done, that’s what matters.”
Yun Xi paused, then nodded. “Right. As long as the job gets done.”
The station keeper’s casual remark actually lifted Yun Xi’s spirits considerably.
She thought to herself, whatever awaited her back home, she’d deal with it once she got there—her sister-in-law was such a good person, and understanding her feelings as she did, surely wouldn’t hold it against her too much.
Besides, all her efforts searching these past months hadn’t been in vain after all. During those days when the third young master had gone missing, she’d imagined every possible terrible outcome, and her nights had been plagued with nightmares. Now that he was safe and sound, this whole ordeal had been well worth it.
The station keeper glanced at the sky and said to Yun Xi, “Captain, it’s getting late, and it’s cold outside. Come rest inside the station—I need to close up soon.”
Yun Xi asked, “Closing up this early? What if traveling merchants come looking for lodging?”
The station keeper laughed. “Merchants don’t come through this time of year anymore. Even those heading to Jinling would take a shortcut rather than come this way. This road really only sees traffic from grand personages like the third young master, who need a whole procession and full honor guard. He’s long gone by now—surely he wouldn’t turn back and come this way again.”
Yun Xi, hearing this, replied, “True enough.”
She glanced at the slanting sun in the distance and stood, about to follow the station keeper back inside, when suddenly she heard the sound of carriages and horses not far off.
Yun Xi thought at first she must be mishearing things, but turning to look, she saw, out across the wilderness, a familiar procession approaching the station at an unhurried pace.
The carriage escorted by eight mounted Imperial Guards was unmistakably familiar. Yun Xi hurried forward a few steps to greet them, then slowed, gradually coming to a stop.
A thought was rising unbidden in her mind, and it made her falter.
Yun Xi stood rooted to the spot, watching as the carriage drew near, and Prefect Liu helped the person inside step down.
In the dead of winter, the mountainside was covered in nothing but withered branches and fallen leaves, and yet the person who stepped down from the carriage wore a robe of pale blue-green—a faint, wintry hue that stood out with striking rarity against this desolate wilderness, so precious that even the pale moon-white cloak draped over his shoulders seemed tinged with the radiant colors of the clouds, as though he might bring that dazzling glow of sunset down with him, connecting heaven and earth, draping the mountains in its light.
This alone would have been the finest sight in all the mortal world—and that was without even mentioning the brows and eyes that seemed painted from mountains and rivers themselves.
Led by Prefect Liu, Cheng Chang walked toward the station.
Yun Xi bowed her head in greeting. “Third young master.”
Cheng Chang nodded, then lowered his eyes to look at her. After a moment, he asked, “Are you unwell?”
“I…”
But before she could get the words out, Sun Haiping cut in. “The third young master, mindful of your service, heard you were unwell and specially brought a physician along to examine you. Hurry and thank the third young master.”
“Indeed,” Prefect Liu added. “The third young master has been worn out from the journey and thought to rest a while longer today. When Commander Zhang came to report that Captain Yun was unwell and resting here, we made our way over accordingly.”
With that, he began ushering Cheng Chang toward the station, saying, “Third young master, it’s nearly dark, and it’s cold outside. Let’s speak further inside.”
With the third young master lodging here for the night, the Imperial Guards and accompanying officials all needed to set up camp nearby. The station keeper, who’d only half-closed the door, threw it wide open again and brought out dry firewood to help build fires, and all this commotion woke Yu’er, who’d been resting inside.
Yu’er stepped out with her two maids, and catching sight of Cheng Chang, her face went pale with fright, and she looked timidly toward Prefect Liu.
Prefect Liu, bowing low, said, “Third young master, please don’t be offended—it wasn’t actually Captain Yun who was unwell today, but Yu’er. But since what ails Yu’er is a matter particular to young women, it wasn’t fitting for her to bring it up with you directly.”
Hearing this, Cheng Chang felt nothing much at all—realizing it was Yu’er who’d been unwell, he actually felt a quiet sense of relief.
Being well-versed in such matters, he understood perfectly well what “a matter particular to young women” meant, but having Prefect Liu explain it so openly and formally left him at something of a loss for how to respond.
Cheng Chang’s silence, however, struck Prefect Liu quite differently.
Assuming the third young master had taken offense, he immediately dropped to his knees, saying, “Third young master, please forgive us. Yu’er meant no deception—it’s only that she’d already offended you once before, and I feared that if her illness delayed the journey again, it might displease you further, so I instructed her not to explain the true reason to you directly. Captain Yun, I believe, only claimed to be unwell herself out of consideration for my daughter’s request.”
With that single sentence, he shifted half the blame onto Yun Xi.
But Yun Xi’s mind was elsewhere at the moment, and she didn’t dwell on it much.
She had, for one fleeting moment, thought that Cheng Chang had turned back because he’d heard she was unwell—her palms had actually gone damp with nerves at the thought. But hearing Prefect Liu describe it as merely being “on the way,” she realized she’d only been imagining things.
The wind stirred, rippling the surface of the water, and once it passed, the pond settled still again, like a mirror.
Yun Xi couldn’t quite name what she was feeling in that moment—something like disappointment, and yet also a plain, matter-of-fact sense that this was simply how things ought to be.
Just as Sun Haiping had said—even if he truly had turned back for her sake, given the sort of person he was, and in recognition of her service, showing her some measure of consideration was only natural, nothing more.
As Yun Xi thought this over, she heard Cheng Chang say, “Isn’t there a physician traveling with us?”
He added, “Since it’s your daughter who’s unwell, have the physician take a look at her.”
“Yes, yes, many thanks to the third young master for not holding my daughter’s error against her,” Prefect Liu said, as though granted a reprieve, exclaiming, “The third young master’s magnanimity truly knows no bounds!”
Cheng Chang nodded, then glanced at Yun Xi and said, “You must be tired too. It’s cold—get some rest early.” With that, he rose and returned to his room.