Chapter 21: Past Shadows and the Beauty’s Peril (Part One)

Danxin led Han Chu in a hurried run back to the study, quickly relaying Chacha’s words to Yun Ci. Hearing this, Yun Ci’s brows gradually knitted. He instructed the guard, Zhuying, “Go and stop them; don’t mention my presence here yet.” Zhuying immediately departed to carry out the order.

Yun Ci turned to Danxin, adding, “You go as well and see what’s happening.” Danxin hesitated, somewhat unwilling. “Master, shouldn’t we inform the young marquis at once?” Yun Ci was silent for a moment before replying, “Zifeng isn’t in the city today. The entire Wen Chang Marquis household has gone to Huishan to pray.”

Shen Yu had gone to Huishan? Then indeed, there was no hope of relying on him. The Chasing Rainbow Pavilion lay to the west of the city, Huishan to the east; to wait for Shen Yu to return would be futile.

Danxin muttered angrily, “This was clearly premeditated, deliberately chosen for when the young marquis would be absent.” Yun Ci made no comment on Danxin’s remark and only urged quietly, “Go quickly, you’re resourceful—act as the situation demands.”

With worry etched on her face, Danxin glanced at Han Chu and hurried off. The study was left with only Yun Ci and Han Chu; the silence was so oppressive it unsettled the heart. Han Chu thought Yun Ci would speak first, but after a while, he said nothing; his manner was unhurried, his expression unreadable.

Han Chu’s hand beneath her sleeve gradually tightened. Unable to bear the atmosphere, she finally looked up at Yun Ci. His gaze, deep and captivating, seemed to pierce through frost and fog, settling upon her with a force that unsettled her soul.

Unable to withstand Yun Ci’s scrutiny, Han Chu at last took up brush and paper, voluntarily confessing, “They came for me, but I am not a maid of the Ming family, nor do I have any connection with them.”

Yun Ci’s gaze shifted from Han Chu’s face to the paper, and he sighed, “You need not explain yourself to me. Who among us is without secrets?”

Though his tone was calm and casual, it made Han Chu’s nose sting with emotion as she wrote, “Do you not trust me?”

“I do not distrust you,” Yun Ci replied, looking at the handwriting on the paper, which bore a strong resemblance to his own. He then asked, “Chu Xiu, are you willing to go with them?”

Han Chu shook her head at once, tears shimmering in her eyes—aggrieved and angry, her beauty even more poignant.

Yun Ci found himself lost in those autumn-water eyes, as if he had fallen into the endless currents of time, unable to find the shore. Perhaps Danxin was right—this woman before him was indeed extraordinarily beautiful; otherwise, she would not have attracted Shen Yu, nor the Ming family. Yun Ci regarded Han Chu in silence for a moment before saying in a low voice, “Chu Xiu, push me to meet them.”

Han Chu was startled and shook her head urgently. Even with the Yun family’s support, their influence was far away in Fangzhou. She, a mere courtesan, was unworthy of Yun Ci risking himself and offending the imperial kin for her sake.

With this thought, Han Chu quickly wrote, “I cannot implicate you.” She paused, then added, “The Ming family is of imperial kin.”

“Implicate? Not quite,” Yun Ci said with a faint smile, eyes on the paper. “Say no more. If you do not wish to go with the Ming household, then take me out there.”

Han Chu stubbornly shook her head.

“You don’t trust me?” This time, it was Yun Ci who asked.

“I do,” Han Chu replied, lips parted solemnly and nodding.

“If you trust me, then come,” Yun Ci said, his gaze fixed resolutely on the study door, brooking no refusal.

Han Chu had no choice but to help Yun Ci out of the study, settle him in the wheelchair, and push him toward the gate of the eastern courtyard. Before they reached the gate, Yun Ci suddenly ordered Han Chu to stop and attempted to rise and walk on his own.

Han Chu was taken aback, reaching out to assist him, but Yun Ci stopped her, saying, “They must not know of my leg ailment.” He reassuringly squeezed Han Chu’s hand, his gentle smile steadying her heart. “A few steps won’t matter, don’t worry.”

Han Chu felt the warmth of Yun Ci’s palm, though her own hand was cold. The contrast of heat and cold mingled at their fingertips, and in the end, she was the one warmed.

In that brief, moving moment, Yun Ci released her hand and cautioned her earnestly, “You must not show yourself. Wait in the study—do not come out until I return.” With that, he turned and walked toward the courtyard gate, step by measured step.

Yun Ci walked slowly but steadily; unless one already knew of his ailment, Han Chu would never have guessed anything was amiss—he seemed merely a nobleman taking a leisurely stroll.

But Han Chu knew the truth: each step for Yun Ci was like walking on blades, unbearably painful.

In that instant, Han Chu almost rushed forward—she would rather go with the Ming family than let Yun Ci endure such agony, or face the sordid machinations of the world.

Yet her feet felt as if weighed down by lead. She could only stand rooted, watching the white figure recede, while emotions surged ever closer.

The wound on her arm throbbed with unprecedented pain, piercing to the bone, impossible to bear. Tears fell like pearls from the sea, not for any memory, but for the bewilderment of the present.

*****

Yun Ci moved cautiously, slowly, deliberately. As he walked, he could hear the clamor outside the courtyard gate—a loud voice shouting, “Why won’t you let us search the courtyard? Are you truly harboring Ming household runaway slaves?”

Danxin and Zhuying stood firm at the gate; Danxin, usually lively, now spoke sharply, “You think you can search just because you say so? What of the Wen Chang Marquis’s reputation?”

The opposition was clearly prepared, responding haughtily, “We searched the Western Courtyard, why not the Eastern?” There was a sneer in their tone.

Danxin shot a fierce glare at Chacha beside her, demanding, “You let them search the Western Courtyard?”

Chacha looked troubled. “We are just a few weak women; we couldn’t stop them…”

Danxin spat mockingly, “Well done! You’ve made the young marquis lose face. How could you show weakness before outsiders? Where’s your usual spirit?”

Of course, Chacha had deliberately let the Ming household search the Western Courtyard. If nothing was found there, only the Eastern Courtyard remained. The Ming family belonged to the imperial kin and had married into the Helian clan. If someone were truly found in the Eastern Courtyard, the Wen Chang Marquis household would hardly dare to resist.

Chacha considered her plan clever and thanked Zhuxue’s sharp tongue for it. Internally, her thoughts turned, but outwardly she appeared aggrieved, silent and fragile.

Danxin noticed Chacha’s unusual behavior today—so different from her usual shrewdness—and grew suspicious. But the urgent matter was to prevent these strangers from entering the Eastern Courtyard; otherwise, not only would Chu Xiu be harmed, but her own master’s reputation would be sullied.

With this in mind, Danxin spoke firmly, “I said no searching, and that’s final. You force your way into a private residence—where is the law?”

“The law?” The group laughed uproariously. The steward at their head, utterly brazen, bowed respectfully to the Ming family’s second young master and said, “Here in Jingzhou, under the emperor’s feet, ‘Ming’ is the law!”

Just then, Ming Ying’s second brother, Ming Cui, who had been silent, suddenly spoke up arrogantly, “You’d best accept our kindness, lest you suffer the consequences. If you step aside, perhaps I’ll bring you back to the Ming household and show you what true nobility is! Spare yourself from pining over the Wen Chang Marquis—he’s nothing!”

“If the Wen Chang Marquis is nothing, what about the Marquis of Lixin?” At some point, a figure clad in white had appeared at the gate, his tone calm yet commanding.

Everyone turned at the sound. They saw a white-robed gentleman standing at the edge of the gate, his bearing extraordinary, demeanor dignified, his expression grave and commanding.

“What did you just say?” Ming Cui, startled by the words “Marquis of Lixin,” was the first to regain composure, sizing up this ethereal figure.

Yun Ci did not answer, but clasped his hands behind his back and said coldly, “Let Ming Cheng come forward and answer.”

Ming Cheng was Ming Ying’s father, head of the Ming clan, both imperial uncle and the current right minister—a man of considerable power. Thus, the Ming family members were briefly stunned by such bold words.

The young man before them, so youthful, dared to summon the imperial uncle to “answer”? Yet none dared treat it as a joke, for the authority of the “Marquis of Lixin” carried weight.

The steward who had spoken so boldly now felt cowed by Yun Ci’s demeanor, turning quietly to Ming Cui, whispering, “Second Young Master…”

Ming Cui showed little reaction. He was close to his sister Ming Ying, and had seen Han Chu play the zither at court banquets, impressed by her beauty—renowned as the finest in the South. This time, Ming Ying had asked him to see if Shen Yu was hiding Han Chu.

It was no wonder his sister was so suspicious; everyone believed the fire at the Drunken Flower Pavilion had killed her, yet Helian Qi’s distracted state hardly suggested he mourned a dead beauty—there must be more to it.

But seeing the white-robed gentleman openly invoke the Marquis of Lixin, Ming Cui dared not be careless and curbed his arrogance, asking, “What is your relationship with the Marquis of Lixin household? And why are you in the young marquis’s private residence?”

“Ming young master, you forcibly enter a Wen Chang Marquis residence, searching and interrogating—shouldn’t you first offer me an explanation?” Yun Ci’s robe fluttered in the autumn breeze, his presence otherworldly.

Ming Cui, hearing Yun Ci’s modest self-description, regained some of his swagger. “A runaway Ming household maid—I advise you to be sensible and let us search. If we are mistaken, we’ll apologize.”

“What does this runaway Ming household maid look like?” Yun Ci asked.

“Fifteen years old, exceedingly beautiful, skilled at the zither,” Ming Cui replied without hesitation.

Yun Ci smiled—not with his usual gentle manner, but with a noble’s commanding air. “Go back and tell your father Ming Cheng—the Marquis of Lixin household has taken this maid in. If he objects, let him petition Emperor Tong Sheng for her tomorrow.”