After returning from surveying the terrain at Hongyu Cove, Mo Zi was thinking about places on the blueprint that needed modification when she accidentally collided with something. Angular and hard—her toes hurt, her knees hurt.
She let out a muffled groan and stepped back, hearing someone apologizing repeatedly. Looking up, she saw a woman in plain cloth and thorn skirt, hunched over before her, head bowed in trepidation. What had collided with her was the small cart the woman was pushing.
On that cart were two old display racks holding rouge, powder, jewelry and such—not even as good as a peddler’s wares, more than half were used items, just maintained somewhat well.
“Young master, this woman’s eyes are dull, and my child was crying incessantly, which is why I collided with you. Please forgive me.” She seemed like a rough woman, but spoke quite refinedly.
“No harm done.” Hearing the woman call her “young master,” Mo Zi quickly looked down at her long robe. New clothes Green Ju had sewn for her, made from cool silk cloth for summer, embroidered with willow-green branches and leaves swaying in the wind.
Green Ju had said that outside wasn’t like home—one needed proper attire to have some presence.
Indeed useful—scared people into treating her as a young master.
“I was lost in thought and not watching the road. No need to panic, auntie.” She had come out with a clean face today, planning to go straight between Hongyu Cove and Mozhi Residence, unlikely to encounter acquaintances. Since it was a clean face, her appearance shouldn’t be frightening.
When the woman mentioned her child, Mo Zi took a closer look and indeed saw a two or three-year-old girl strapped to the woman’s back. She’d stopped crying now and was sucking her thumb, but her eyes were still teary, she was still sobbing, and her snot had gotten onto her mother’s clothes.
Seeing she’d encountered a reasonable person, the woman breathed a sigh of relief. Straightening up and seeing Mo Zi’s handsome face and refined robe, she assumed the other party was a scholar and felt more at ease.
Mo Zi moved to walk around her, but the woman timidly called her back.
“Does the young master see anything that catches your eye? Perhaps buy something to give your wife?” The woman usually didn’t dare solicit customers, fearing she’d attract men with ill intentions. But this person before her looked very much like an upright gentleman, and business had been dismal lately—even after a full day she couldn’t sell half an item. She and her daughter couldn’t even see food, let alone eat their fill. So, steeling herself, she asked.
Mo Zi had never been interested in rouge and powder, and immediately waved her hand. “Auntie, I’m not yet married and have no use for these things.”
The woman made a sound of acknowledgment, lowering her eyes and saying no more.
Mo Zi had just turned around when she heard the girl cry again, calling out for food, and realized this mother and daughter might have fallen into dire straits. Her heart softening, she turned back.
“Auntie, though I’m not married, I could buy something for my sisters.” Though Bai He and Green Ju probably wouldn’t want such inferior goods. “May I look through them?”
The woman’s sallow face suddenly brightened. “Young master, look all you want, browse freely. Buy more, and I’ll give you a discount.”
Mo Zi smiled and actually did start looking. She hadn’t expected to find anything good at such a used goods stall anyway, but she was poor—if she was going to spend money, buying something useful was better than something useless.
“Is the young master from the capital?” The woman didn’t mean to distract Mo Zi from picking goods, but sellers always had to chat a bit—otherwise how would there be return customers?
“No, I’ve only been here two months.” Mo Zi multitasked, picking up a box of Chenzhou rouge, sniffing it under the woman’s hopeful gaze, but then putting it down. “Auntie isn’t local either, is she?” The capital was a prosperous city—those this poor were mostly from other places.
“This woman escaped from Yuling. On the way I got separated from my husband and son. Bringing my two-year-old daughter, I finally made it to the capital to seek refuge with relatives, but who knew I’d suffer their cold looks and be swindled out of my money. With nowhere to stay, I could only sell my jewelry and do this small business to survive, but business is difficult. I’m just a woman, unfamiliar with people and place. The authorities won’t give me a household registration, and taxes are high—for ten wen they collect three, with five wen as base cost. Now, this woman hopes for nothing else but that my husband and eldest son are safe and can come to the capital soon to reunite with me and my daughter.” As she spoke, sorrow welled up from her heart, and she actually began wiping tears.
Hearing she was from Yuling, Mo Zi lost interest in picking through goods. Her hand lightly stirred through the small cabinet’s wares as she asked the woman, “Has Yuling truly fallen?”
The woman nodded, saying indignantly, “The day I left the royal city was when the Great Qiu cavalry entered our king’s palace. My husband escaped from the palace and hurriedly took us away. We couldn’t gather our valuables or lock our gates, and couldn’t even notify servants to disperse them—truly disaster from heaven. On the road, all we heard was bad news. Our king died, the empress committed suicide, the only prince was captured, princesses and noble daughters became wives, concubines, and playthings of the barbarians—simply horrifying. I heard from the families of high officials who escaped that there were traitorous inner ministers in our Yuling who colluded with the enemy, which is why Great Qiu’s forces could breach our Yuling navy in one stroke and then take the royal city. Though the traitorous inner ministers have been executed, it was too late.” She had not been poor before—her household had ten or so servants and maids. Now, she had to endure hunger daily.
Mo Zi actually admired this woman somewhat—overnight, she’d lost everything, suffered so much, yet could still do small business to feed herself and her daughter.
The texture under her hand changed—good wood! Even in midsummer it remained cool to the fingertips, without half a splinter or roughness. The wood grain was gorgeous, so smooth, with jade’s lustrous beauty.
Yuling had a unique type of tree that grew specifically beside spring water, which everyone called spring trees. Spring trees were rare. This wood was the heartstring wood of the spring tree—when the tree withered by the marsh, the heartwood became like jade, growing more crimson and clear with age, gorgeous as heart’s blood. When extracting the wood, the slightest carelessness would kill the heartwood, turning it to ash section by section. This heartwood was mostly tributed to the court, made into various ornaments treasured by imperial family and noble women.
In books Mo Zi had read, it was recorded that ornaments made from spring heartwood were commonly used as tokens of affection between imperial family members and nobles, not only because the process was truly complex and precise, but also for what the heartwood represented.
She had lost all her past memories, but with wood she always knew with just a touch. Now, what her palm and fingertips detected was spring heartwood.
Mo Zi lowered her eyes, moving aside the cheap goods to see a crimson comb lying quietly there.
In that instant, the world collapsed before her eyes, and someone in her heart sang out—
“*Comb comb with woman, my heart delights; comb comb with woman, my heart rejoices; I comb with you, combing to deep affection; I comb with you, combing to white-haired old age…*”
Stop singing! Stop singing! Mo Zi’s head suddenly felt like it would explode. She held her head with both hands, crouching on the ground, her eyes already unable to see clearly.
Please, stop singing! She was dying!
Who was it? Who exactly was it?
Since Qiu Sanniang’s marriage, she hadn’t suffered from headaches, thinking she would never remember the past—she had calmly accepted this possibility. Nothing wrong with that. Every time her head hurt, it was as if her soul was being stripped away, making her frightened and uneasy. She always felt that past wouldn’t be pleasant. Those fragmentary pieces—the happy ones were only from childhood, then there was panic like huge waves and tides, adulthood gorgeous yet desolate.
When she met the Young Marquis of Great Qiu and Miss Ye’er, she’d had that startling feeling of memories about to emerge, which she’d forcefully suppressed herself. However, the upheaval brought by this spring heartwood comb—she no longer had the strength to suppress it.
In an instant, her heart split open—