Chapter 13: The Clouds Drift Unwittingly Beyond the Peaks

“Come in,” Yun Ci’s words were light and gentle, devoid of any emotion.

Having received permission, Steward Yun hurriedly beckoned Han Chu to follow him into the room, instructing her, “Quickly pay your respects to the master.”

Han Chu composed herself, lowered her gaze, and bowed, graceful and elegant yet dignified and poised.

Steward Yun observed from the side, feeling that this mute girl did not resemble a low-born orphan but rather a proper lady from a distinguished family—if only she could speak. With this thought, he explained to Yun Ci, “This girl is afflicted with a throat illness and cannot speak. I ask the master’s forgiveness.”

“It’s nothing,” Yun Ci replied, his tone still indifferent. His clear eyes fell upon Han Chu’s face, and he spoke with calm detachment, “Thank you for your service these next few days.”

The moment Han Chu heard the words “It’s nothing,” she was certain this master was the white-robed gentleman she had encountered the previous night. Hearing his greeting now, she felt unexpectedly favored, and so she lifted her head and smiled in response.

Still dressed in white, still seated in a wheelchair, but this time Han Chu could see his features and expression clearly. He was exactly as she had imagined—transcendent, like an immortal.

If the white-robed gentleman she met by chance the previous night was a gentle radiance in the starry sky, then today, upon meeting again, he was a cool breeze in the blazing summer.

Though Han Chu had mentally prepared herself before coming to the Eastern Garden, she was still awed by the tranquility and detachment he exuded, as if she had returned to the mindset of their first encounter, able to forget her troubled past.

Dan Xin, watching Han Chu’s expression, couldn’t help but smile. She was used to outsiders marveling at her master’s presence; the mute girl’s reaction was already quite restrained.

“Well, now we have beauty meeting beauty—it’s as if a painting has come to life!” Dan Xin said, her words rather impulsive.

Yun Ci glanced at Dan Xin, his quiet authority evident as he said, “Didn’t you say your arm was sore? Go and rest.” He then addressed the steward, “Uncle Yun, you may return to your duties.”

Both Dan Xin and Steward Yun knew Yun Ci’s temperament and dared not say more. They respectfully withdrew.

Only Han Chu remained standing in the room; though she had regained her composure, she was still at a loss.

Yun Ci had no intention of reminiscing, just as he’d said that night: “Tonight’s incident with the zither, let’s pretend I never saw it.”

They acted as strangers. Yun Ci looked at Han Chu and instructed, “Come and grind the ink.”

Four simple words, and Han Chu dared not delay. She approached Yun Ci’s desk, seeing him writing, while the ink in the inkstone had already dried in the summer heat.

Han Chu lifted the small teapot on the desk, poured some fresh water into the inkstone, and began to grind the ink slowly.

Yun Ci continued writing, dipping his brush in ink and making swift strokes. Han Chu was not skilled in calligraphy but could discern its quality. Yun Ci’s brushwork was vigorous and powerful, showing great character—somehow not matching his cool demeanor.

Standing opposite the desk, every character Han Chu saw was upside down, making it difficult to read. She watched for a while before realizing Yun Ci was writing a prescription, or rather, a list of medicinal ingredients and their quantities.

Han Chu knew little of medicine, so she paid it no mind. Seeing the pale face of this ethereal man, she assumed he was writing a prescription for himself, as those long ill often do.

To her surprise, when Yun Ci finished, he handed her the prescription and said, “Give this to Dan Xin in a few days and have her prepare these herbs. You should brew it and drink it yourself.”

Han Chu’s eyes widened in disbelief, silently questioning Yun Ci.

His expression remained indifferent. “Someone close to Feng has a throat illness and asked me to write a prescription. These are herbs for clearing heat and reducing inflammation; suitable for anyone. You may try them as well.”

He thought for a moment and added, “Let’s see if it helps your voice. If it doesn’t, we’ll try another prescription.”

Han Chu took the prescription, her eyes suddenly hot. She wanted to express her gratitude, but could not even form the words. Not only had she lost her voice, even if she could speak, she doubted she could find the right words.

Yun Ci clearly understood Han Chu’s feelings and smiled gently. “You’ve come to care for me these next few months; I ought to repay you. It wasn’t written especially for you—no need to thank me.”

Han Chu nodded lightly, folded the prescription, and tucked it into her sleeve.

Yun Ci recalled how Dan Xin had praised the girl’s beauty, which surprised him. Dan Xin was notoriously critical, rarely offering compliments. Unfortunately, Yun Ci had little opinion about women’s looks and could not judge Dan Xin’s taste or determine if the girl was beautiful.

He valued other qualities more, such as reading and literacy. “Have you studied?” he asked casually.

Han Chu nodded.

Yun Ci handed her a sheet of finely cut rice paper and asked, “Can you write?”

Han Chu agreed, then wrote, “I haven’t read much, and my writing is poor.”

“To be able to recognize characters is already rare.” Yun Ci glanced at her writing, smiled, “You don’t need to write everything. I can understand some lip movements. If I can’t, you can use pen and paper.”

This delighted Han Chu, who smiled and wrote, “Thank you.”

Yun Ci then asked, “Did Steward Yun and Qian Yun explain your duties?”

Han Chu nodded; Steward Yun had already told her she would mainly serve in the study.

Yun Ci’s slender fingers tapped the desk as he pondered, then said, “I spend most days in the study, and there aren’t many rules. You don’t need to be too formal.”

To illustrate, he smiled and added, “Look at Dan Xin. Though she serves as my maid, her temperament is fiercer than mine.”

Han Chu recalled Dan Xin’s words and expression and smiled in agreement.

“Just don’t let that mischievous girl hear,” Yun Ci quietly warned Han Chu. “If she starts trouble, I can’t handle it.”

There was indulgence and affection in his words, causing Han Chu to feel a pang of envy for Dan Xin. She recalled Shen Yu saying that Yun Ci kept his distance from women, and so her last bit of wariness faded.

He truly was a good master.

Yun Ci noticed Han Chu’s faint smile and realized he did not know her name. He asked, “What are you called?”

Han Chu shook her head, embarrassed.

“No name?” Yun Ci frowned slightly.

Han Chu silently confirmed.

“What is your surname?” He gestured to the sheet she’d written on. “Write your surname.”

Han Chu picked up the brush again and slowly wrote, “No name, no surname.”

Yun Ci’s frown deepened as he quietly asked, “How long have you been with Zi Feng?”

Han Chu wrote, “Three days.”

“No wonder,” Yun Ci mused. Given Shen Yu’s romantic nature, he must have been moved by the orphan girl’s beauty and bought her out of pity, but had not yet given her a name.

He pondered for a moment and asked Han Chu, “Though you’re only here temporarily, you shouldn’t be nameless. If you don’t mind, shall I give you a name?”

A new name? Indeed, Han Chu had died, and she needed a new name. It was only a title; since she was now a maid by command, she would let her master decide.

Han Chu remembered that both “Qian Yun” and “Dan Xin” were names given by the white-robed gentleman, suggesting his thoughtfulness. So she nodded gently.

She had expected him to choose a name easily, but instead, he pondered for a long time, as if weighing it carefully.

Watching his slightly furrowed brow, Han Chu felt anticipation for her new name.

The silence stretched between them until Yun Ci finally picked up his brush and wrote two characters—

“Chu Xiu.”

He recalled their first encounter by the spring. That night, unable to sleep, he had wandered from the Eastern Garden, only to unexpectedly see a girl by the spring with her zither.

Although it was late and they were separated by some distance, Yun Ci’s eyesight was sharp; even at night, he could see clearly.

He remembered the girl’s expression—two parts desolate, three parts sorrowful, and the remaining five parts resilient and stubborn.

Yun Ci did not think the girl was particularly beautiful; indeed, he cared little for appearance. Yet her demeanor and aura left a deep impression.

Though she seemed gentle, Yun Ci sensed a certain solitary courage in her. Had the guard Zhu Ying not spoken first, startling her, Yun Ci would not have interrupted.

It was only because Zhu Ying spoke that he learned she could not talk. Coincidentally, Shen Yu had been consulting him about remedies for a throat illness, so Yun Ci had mistakenly assumed the girl was one of Shen Yu’s close companions.

After all, the zither had long symbolized romance; a woman playing alone at night would naturally be mistaken for someone troubled by love. But later, he found she did not even know Shen Yu’s courtesy name, making her unlikely to be his confidante.

Perhaps it was this hint of mystery that caused Yun Ci to remember the silent girl. Thus, when Dan Xin mentioned finding a maid to replace Qian Yun, he had chosen her without hesitation.

But Shen Yu had been careless—she had not even been given a name. Yun Ci couldn’t help but smile at the two characters written on the rice paper: Chu Xiu.

The name carried little special meaning—he had simply recalled the phrase “delicate and bold, distant as the peaks, richly colored as spring mist.” Not every woman could bear these words, but for some reason, he thought of her, perhaps proving her beauty.

Moreover, their encounter that night was unplanned, fitting the saying, “Clouds drift aimlessly from the peaks.”

Yun Ci knew the name was chosen somewhat spontaneously, but it was not unworthy of the girl before him. He pushed the paper toward her and asked quietly, “Is this acceptable?”

Han Chu lowered her gaze to the two characters, her lips moved silently as she mouthed, “Chu Xiu.”

She felt it was not inferior to “Qian Yun” and “Dan Xin.”

With this thought, Han Chu smiled and nodded, then picked up the brush and asked, “Clouds drift aimlessly from the peaks?”

Yun Ci finally smiled, watching her clear eyes blink, and replied with three words: “My surname is Yun.”

In that instant, the room seemed to transform into a celestial palace, home to two ethereal beings. The man was the Northern Star, gathering all others; the woman, a peony fairy, radiating beauty.

With just a shared smile, they found a rare, mutual understanding.