Chapter 28: Meeting Is Hard, Parting Is Harder

The next day, Han Chu did not go to the study to serve as she usually did. Instead, she brewed the medicine as always and entrusted Danxin to deliver it. She believed that after Young Master Yun’s gift of the zither the previous day, their master-servant relationship had come to a close.

Yet, barely the time it took for a stick of incense to burn had passed, when Danxin came looking for her in her own courtyard, her tone sharp and unpleasant: “Who told you to be lazy here? Hurry to the study and attend to your duties! The master won’t be leaving today!”

Not leaving? Han Chu was startled and delighted, but soon after, disappointment settled over her. They would have to leave eventually; sooner or later, there was little difference.

Han Chu looked at Danxin, using gestures and mouthing words to ask, “Why are we not leaving?”

“How would I know what the master is thinking?” Danxin pinched Han Chu’s waist, pretending to scold her. “Quickly now! I served the morning medicine in your place, and the master didn’t give me so much as a friendly glance.”

Guilt washed over Han Chu at this, and she hurried off at a run toward the study, unaware that Danxin behind her was laughing heartily.

The Eastern Courtyard’s study.

The Yun household’s servants were spread throughout both southern and northern kingdoms, able to infiltrate every corner and accomplish anything. Last night, Yun Ci had given his orders, and by dawn, a response was already in hand—an impressive efficiency by any measure.

Now, lying upon the desk, were several thin sheets of paper detailing the life of a courtesan.

Yun Ci gazed at the documents before him, silent and unreadable.

It was unclear how long he remained thus when, suddenly, noise came from outside the door, followed by Zhu Ying’s voice, faint through the panel:

“The master’s orders are that no one is to disturb—”

“I can’t understand your gestures—”

“What is it Miss Chuxiu wishes to say?”

At the mention of “Chuxiu,” Yun Ci immediately asked, “Who’s outside?”

“Master, it is Miss Chuxiu,” Zhu Ying replied respectfully from the other side.

Yun Ci hesitated for a moment before softly ordering, “Let her in.”

No sooner had he spoken than a figure in pale green drifted in, ethereal as a fairy among the flowers, bearing an air of unapproachable grace. Yet who could have guessed that a girl of such presence had once been—

Yun Ci’s heart sank.

Han Chu did not notice Yun Ci’s change in demeanor. She approached with graceful composure, bowed in greeting, and gestured with her hands.

Yun Ci understood, his expression impassive: “I did not summon you.”

Han Chu paused, then mouthed two words: “Danxin.”

So Danxin had acted on her own... Yun Ci offered no further explanation.

Sensing the awkwardness, Han Chu gave a nervous laugh and prepared to take her leave.

“Since you’re here, stay,” Yun Ci said, noticing her evasive look and feeling a trace of annoyance. He swept the documents from the desk into his sleeve.

Han Chu had no choice but to remain. She glanced at the desk: the inkstone had dried, clearly unused, yet Yun Ci had just put away papers with fresh writing—had he not written them himself?

Suppressing her curiosity, Han Chu began her usual task of preparing ink and paper, first cutting the xuan paper, then grinding the ink.

“Today, there’s no need to prepare ink. I don’t feel like writing,” Yun Ci said indifferently.

At this, Han Chu stopped.

Yun Ci fixed her with a burning gaze, as if trying to see through her thoughts. “Don’t you want to ask me why I’m not leaving?”

A flicker flashed in Han Chu’s eyes before being quickly subdued.

Yun Ci continued to watch her, his eyes lingering.

Uncertain under his intense scrutiny, Han Chu sensed something unusual about Yun Ci today. She hesitated, then met his gaze calmly, a question clear in her eyes.

Yun Ci had always believed that Chuxiu—or rather, Han Chu—possessed eyes that could speak, clear and unsullied, making all troubles vanish at their sight. At last, he understood the secret of her beauty, a beauty long recognized by all.

He looked at Han Chu’s gentle frown, her shining gaze. After a long moment, he spoke again, his voice low and wistful, repeating, “Chuxiu, come with me to Fangzhou.”

Han Chu’s clear eyes grew even brighter with shock, more so than when she first heard these words. She thought she had made herself clear—though she had not spoken aloud, her silent “no” had said everything.

She dared not meet Yun Ci’s eyes again, fearing that one more look might cause her to nod against her will. She quickly lowered her gaze, silently refusing once more.

It felt as if time had returned to that day when her repeated refusals had estranged them for over three months, casting a hush over the room. But this time, Yun Ci was not merely asking—his determination was unmistakable.

“Why don’t you want to go? Give me a reason.” Yun Ci slowly pushed the cut paper toward Han Chu. “Write it down. No matter how long it takes, or how much you write, I will wait.”

At this, Han Chu’s face slowly turned pale. After a long pause, she shook her head again. She had no reason, and so there was nothing to write.

“Since the Ming family visited, you’ve been avoiding me, and you no longer smile as you once did.” A trace of hope colored Yun Ci’s words; he wouldn’t let Han Chu avoid him any longer. “Tell me the reason. Do you have some hardship, Chuxiu?”

Do I have a hardship? Han Chu asked herself inwardly. How could she voice those unspeakable memories? She feared sullying his ears.

Looking into Yun Ci’s hopeful gaze, Han Chu almost confessed everything, but in the end, chose silence once more.

Yun Ci waited, watching her. He prided himself on his patience, yet he was defeated by Han Chu’s stubbornness. Disappointment, faint but tangible, welled up inside him. After a long struggle to regain his composure, he said gently, “If you don’t wish to speak, I won’t force you.”

He gazed at the long, delicate lashes that fringed Han Chu’s eyelids—so fine and curled that, in the blink of an eye, a glimmering droplet seemed to cling there like a translucent gem.

Unable to help himself, Yun Ci reached out, wanting to wipe away her tears. But almost at the same instant, Han Chu turned away swiftly, as if desperate to hide something.

Her movement was so fast, as quick as her tears fell, that Yun Ci almost doubted what he’d seen—had there really been such crystalline drops on her lashes? But his eyesight was always keen.

He could only watch her turned back, her slender shoulders trembling, evoking a fragile pity. Yet he knew her spirit was far from weak; on the contrary, it held a singular strength.

His heart brimmed with even more compassion, compelling him to speak again. “I know you’ve suffered in the past, and perhaps you bear resentment toward the nobility... But you must understand, I am not like them.”

A faint bitterness rose in Yun Ci’s heart as he carefully chose his words and continued, “You’ve already offended the Ming family in Jingzhou. Though they overlook it for now, they may well seek revenge in the future. When that day comes, I fear even Zi Feng will not be able to protect you.”

“Even if Zi Feng is willing, what of the Marquis of Wenchang’s household? Would they risk offending the imperial kin for your sake?” Yun Ci knew he was touching Han Chu’s sorest spot and admitted to himself that this method was cruel. Yet he had no other way—only by persuading her thus might she listen.

If no one ever confronted her hidden wounds, she might never know where her pain lay—or how she might heal.

Yun Ci saw her slender figure tilt her head back slightly, as if struggling to hold back her tears. The hairpin in her hair swayed gently, just as it had rippled the waters of the spring when he first met her.

“Chuxiu...” This was the name he’d given her. “I told you before—a woman’s beauty is not a lifelong shield. Come with me to Fangzhou, and I will teach you poetry, music, and household management. Later, I will find you a good match. In Fangzhou, you will never suffer humiliation again.”

“You may ask around—any woman who leaves the Yun household, even as a servant, is held in higher regard than many noble daughters. At least in Fangzhou, every eligible man seeks such a bride. I will choose someone truly worthy of you; you will not be slighted.”

Before uttering these words, Yun Ci had never imagined it—never thought that the Marquis of Lixin’s household, coveted by so many, would be so easily dismissed by this girl. And he, the heir apparent, would be reduced to pleading with her for a mere nod.

The papers hidden in his sleeve bore words that burned into his heart—each line a record of her tears and wounds. He ought to look away, to remain indifferent. Yet fate had brought her into his life, and after more than three months of this peculiar bond, he could not stand idle.

Especially not after last night’s zither music, which still echoed in his soul.

Yun Ci pressed his hands on the desk and slowly stood. Step by step, he approached Han Chu, each movement painful yet sweetly endured.

Her face was now wet with tears—each drop bright and flawless as a pearl. This time, Yun Ci did not allow her to turn away again. He gently wiped the tears from her cheek with his sleeve. “Leave Zi Feng to me. You needn’t worry.”

Han Chu squeezed her eyes shut, not daring to look at this man so like an immortal come down to earth. She could only shake her head desperately, her tears falling without restraint, unable to utter a single word.

“What are you being so stubborn for?” Yun Ci said with a helpless laugh. “Why do you refuse? Or is it... is there someone in Jingzhou you cannot let go of?” He asked the last quietly, with great care.

Han Chu did not know why she wept now, nor why Young Master Yun watched her cry. Even when He Lianqi had broken her heart, she had never cried so freely.

Only after her reckless sobbing had quieted into silent shudders did she turn, lean over the desk, and write: “There is no one I cannot leave behind. Take care of yourself.”

The dampness on his fingers came from the tears of the girl before him, cool to the touch. With her denial written plainly, Yun Ci’s heart finally settled.

“Are you always so contrary?” he asked, not discouraged, even with a smile. “If you truly don’t wish to leave, why did you play ‘Youth’s Journey’ last night?”

Yun Ci fixed Han Chu with a steady gaze and said, word by word, “‘Carefully I recall—so many heartbreaks, none quite like this time.’ If you dared to play it, why not admit your feelings?”

He had heard her last night! Han Chu’s sobs stopped at once, her eyes bewildered, at a loss for how to respond. She had thought no one was listening, but in the end, her sorrow had reached the heart of one who cared.

Yun Ci looked at the tear tracks on her face and the faint dampness on his fingertips, as if a ripple of water had formed in his own heart. For the first time, he was forceful before a woman, allowing no refusal as he commanded, “From this moment on, think of nothing else. Leave the rest to me.”

With that, Yun Ci glanced at the sky outside the window and sighed. “By now, Zi Feng should be here. Dry your tears and come with me to meet him.”