The busy days of the Lantern Festival passed, and the intermittent snow finally stopped. In theory, spring should have been on its way, but walking through the streets, the sky still hung a heavy leaden grey, and only a few sprigs of plum blossom, bright against the courtyard walls on either side, showed any color at all.
When heading to the courtyard where Yun Zhu and Jin’er lived, he usually didn’t take a carriage. Today, he felt even more like walking, turning over in his mind the confusion he felt, thinking back on what he’d done since coming to the capital — or even earlier than that. In the blink of an eye, three years had passed since he’d first arrived here. Looking back on how he’d felt when he first came, he’d since grown accustomed to this place, to its vermilion gates and deep courtyards, its whitewashed tiles and grey brick walls. What one saw by day and thought about by night gradually accumulated in the heart, giving a person the real sense of belonging somewhere — and then more and more small things would come along, filling in every last corner of what a person could feel.
Many things had happened over these three years, and he wasn’t sure whether this beginning counted as good or bad. He’d never been the sentimental type to begin with, nor prone to much brooding melancholy without cause — when trouble pressed down on him, he simply dealt with it, a fairly simple pattern to follow. Even when he ran into something difficult to resolve, he could always work out some thread of logic from within his own mind.
A group of children chasing each other ran past him.
Yun Zhu’s letter sat tucked in his sleeve, giving off a faint warmth. Half a year ago, after that thunderstorm, Yun Zhu and he had come together, and when she’d wanted to leave that time, she’d slipped away quietly, in secret. This time, though, was different. Ning Yi understood the difference in significance well enough. He’d spent the morning turning it over in his mind, then simply made his way over here. Arriving at the gate of the small courtyard, he raised his hand to knock, hesitated for a moment, and finally knocked.
It was Jin’er who opened the door, her face sullen, a door bolt still in her hand. The two of them stood there facing off for a good while before Ning Yi finally nodded. “I understand. Let me go in first — we can talk about whatever you want to say later, all right?” Only then did Jin’er toss the bolt aside and turn to walk ahead of him.
Passing through the courtyard, the wintersweet blooms along one side were still in flower, and a little snowman stood outside the corridor ahead. Ning Yi asked and learned that Yun Zhu was in the kitchen cooking at the moment. As he made his way over, Jin’er, still cross with him, chased after him trying to kick him, though he dodged out of the way each time.
The sound of cooking drifted out from the kitchen at the back of the courtyard. Ning Yi paused at the door for a moment, drew a breath, and stepped inside. Compared to that little building by the Qinhuai River in Jiangning, this courtyard’s kitchen wasn’t small at all. Yun Zhu stood by the stove in a plain white dress, her hair gathered up at the back of her head, held with two simple pearl hairpins. The kitchen was filled with the fragrance of cooking food mixed with the metallic scent of blood; the chopping board held various seasonings, and a bowl held some chicken blood. The cook had already been sent away for now — everything here had presumably been prepared by Yun Zhu alone.
Ning Yi watched for a moment, then walked up from behind. Yun Zhu turned her head slightly, and upon seeing it was him, a smile touched the corners of her mouth. Walking up behind her, Ning Yi reached out and wrapped his arms around her; the two of them pressed their cheeks together, and Yun Zhu closed her eyes.
“I received the letter you wrote…”
“Mm.”
“You want to go to Xuanzhou.”
The dish was still cooking on the stove; both their voices were soft. Ning Yi let go of her, smiled faintly, crouched down beside the stove, and tossed in another log. “If I said… you’re not allowed to go, what would you do?”
Yun Zhu crouched down too, hands folded over her knees, gazing at the firelight in the earthen stove, and leaned toward Ning Yi with a smile, her voice gentle. “Then I wouldn’t go. You’re my man — whatever you say, Yun Zhu will do. But Yun Zhu’s husband isn’t the sort of man to be so domineering.”
“You’re the first person who’s ever said that about me.” Ning Yi shook his head. As Yun Zhu rose to tend the spatula, he fell silent for a moment. “You know, if you really just wanted to go visit your parents’ old family home, I’d have agreed without a second thought. But this time is different, isn’t it… I’ve put a lot of pressure on you, haven’t I…”
Yun Zhu fell silent for a moment, then shook her head. Ning Yi rubbed his temple; Yun Zhu trotted over and brought him a small stool to sit on. Having fully recovered from her illness, she’d shed the frailty of these past months, and her old gentle, graceful, unadorned bearing had returned. The kitchen fell quiet. Ning Yi sat there tending the fire, while Yun Zhu moved back and forth, cutting and cooking — the main ingredient was a chicken, prepared into several dishes. There was, in truth, already a great deal of understanding between Ning Yi and Yun Zhu, but this time, for once, he found himself somewhat at a loss.
Like an ordinary small family, before long the meal was ready. Ning Yi and Yun Zhu carried the dishes out to the sitting room to eat lunch together with Jin’er. The food was delicately prepared, but neither Ning Yi nor Jin’er had much appetite. After the meal, once the dishes were cleared and washed, Yun Zhu went upstairs to brew tea for Ning Yi and brought out a storybook they hadn’t finished reading a few days earlier, for him to read to her. The upstairs room was warm; Ning Yi had read about halfway through when Yun Zhu, lying across his lap, seemed about to drift off to sleep. Jin’er hadn’t come in — whether she was out there listening at the door, no one could say.
“We had chicken for lunch today…” When the reading was more than half done, Ning Yi paused to quench his thirst with some tea, and only then did Yun Zhu, lying across his lap, finally laugh softly and murmur these words. Ning Yi lowered the book and waited for her to continue.
“Liheng… we’ve known each other, what, nearly three years now? Do you still remember, the first time we met, I was killing that hen…” Her voice was soft and gentle. “Yun Zhu thinks the best thing that ever happened in this life was being pulled into that river along with Liheng that day.”
“Ha, and after I saved you, you slapped me for it.” Ning Yi reached out and stroked the hair on her head, absently pulling out one of her hairpins. Yun Zhu closed her eyes, lying there like a cat.
“Yun Zhu has always been yours — you can take whatever revenge on me you like.” She pressed her cheek against his leg, laughing as she swayed slightly. “And then… so many things happened… that little pancake stall, preserved eggs, Bamboo Records, I learned how to kill a chicken, learned how to cook… every morning you’d run past along the riverbank — did you know, what I looked forward to most each day was you coming over, sitting with me for a while, saying a few words to me…”
“So what exactly is going on?” Ning Yi frowned, pulling her closer, asking directly. “Why do you want to leave this time?”
“And then.” Yun Zhu curled up against him, falling silent for a moment. “And then… Liheng, you’ve put too much pressure on yourself.”
“Pressure…” Ning Yi frowned, then shook his head. “I’ve dealt with plenty of things, Yun Zhu, this really is nothing much at all. I can handle it. Of course there’s pressure, but it’s nothing serious. A man just has to be tough on himself…”
“That’s exactly why I find it so strange — my man really is an odd one.” Yun Zhu laughed gently. She drew a breath and said softly, “Liheng, even Liangshan was nothing to you, even matters of the state and the realm are nothing to you — and yet a mere handful of women manage to trouble you so. That’s what’s strangest about you. You look at the people around you as more important than affairs of state, and honestly, that makes me happy — but it’s precisely because of that, that I want to go out for a while, to clear my head…”
“I haven’t been troubled because of you!” Ning Yi said, somewhat distressed. Having denied it, he chose his next words carefully. “It’s really… it’s not like that. Simply put, I feel I haven’t been good enough to all of you…”
“Not good enough?”
“That’s not quite the point.”
“But you’ve already been more than good enough. These past few months, you’ve stayed by my side through my illness, taken me out to clear my mind, come to chat with me, read to me, worrying over me all this time…”
“So you feel you’ve been keeping me from my work, and I’ve given you pressure because of it.”
“No, that’s not it at all…” Yun Zhu clung to his hand, lying there looking up at him, shaking her head gently. “Liheng, you’ve put the pressure on yourself. Listen to me, all right?”
She smiled. “In this life of Yun Zhu’s, there have been good things and bad things. If I speak of the good, I found a man worth entrusting my life to. If I speak of the bad, those years in the pleasure house, living in constant fear — I suppose there’s no escaping that. Liheng, I was once an official’s daughter, and in the pleasure house, they said I carried myself too proudly; once I left the pleasure house, they said I set my sights too high. But in truth, my ambitions were never really so lofty — especially once I came to you, Yun Zhu… whatever happens is fine by me now. A good life or a hard one, it doesn’t matter — but I also know, however things turn out, you’ll never wrong me…”
“I want to stay by your side, I don’t want to go anywhere else… whether as your concubine, or as a woman kept in a separate residence, either way I’d be perfectly content. Liheng… women are strange creatures, or maybe it’s just me. My only worry is that one day you’ll truly stop wanting me, that I’ll truly become a burden to you — and if that happened, I really couldn’t go on living. Turning it over and over in my mind like this, I made myself sick…”
“But as long as I’m still of some use to you — this body of mine, or singing for you, or keeping you company and easing your loneliness — even if something outside upset you and you came home and lost your temper the way ordinary men do in ordinary households, gave me a beating, and it made you feel better afterward, then I’d feel happy too… Liheng, I’ve never told you these things before, afraid you’d think me strange.”
“Back in the pleasure house, I used to imagine that someday I’d end up like the others — married off, made someone’s concubine, perhaps to some man in his forties, doted on when he was pleased with me, beaten and scolded when he wasn’t. I was terrified of that back then… but later, thinking of you, Liheng, I’d sometimes imagine that one day, when you were upset about something outside, I’d try every way I could to cheer you up, and if you lost your temper and even struck me, hard enough to draw blood, and it eased your anger afterward — thinking of this, I actually felt happy inside, and then I’d… mm… find myself missing you…”
Speaking of this, she flushed slightly, a faint rosy color rising on her cheeks, her voice growing even softer. “Though I know, Liheng, you would never do such a thing to me — if anything, I find myself wanting to be that way for your sake. Women, I suppose, are just like that…”
Ning Yi lowered his head, his brow furrowing slightly, and let out a soft sigh. “But feelings run both ways, after all. If you feel this way, then naturally I should treat you even better in return. It’s only natural that I’d feel pressure because of it.”
“But that’s exactly what I don’t want…”