Chapter 29: Unaware of Each Other, Yet Connected at Heart

East Court, Reception Hall.

Shen Yu gazed at the painting of the welcoming pine in the hall, its spirit and grace unmistakable, a faint furrow between his brows. After the events with Chacha last night, he was beset by a restless gloom, and upon returning to the Marquis of Wenchang’s residence, he drank alone into the small hours. This morning, his head ached so fiercely he could barely rise. It was only the thought of Yun Ci’s departure that compelled him to force down some medicine and hurry over.

He had assumed he was already late, but upon stepping through the courtyard gate, Zhu Ying informed him that Yun Ci would not be leaving today.

Shen Yu knew Yun Ci was never one to break his word, and so he silently pondered the reason for this delay. Yet no matter how he turned it over in his mind, he found no answer.

A noise at the door drew him from his thoughts. Shen Yu turned to the newcomer and greeted, “Wanzhi.” But the one pushing him inside was not Zhu Ying or Dan Xin—it was Han Chu. Her eyes were faintly red.

For reasons unknown, a sense of foreboding settled in Shen Yu’s heart, heavy and cold.

Yun Ci had originally intended to speak to Shen Yu in Han Chu’s presence, but as he approached the door, he changed his mind. Smiling gently at Han Chu, he said, “You may go back.”

Han Chu first bowed to Shen Yu, then withdrew quietly as instructed.

“Why the sudden change of plans?” Only after Han Chu had left did Shen Yu, smiling, question Yun Ci.

“I haven’t changed my mind about leaving—just postponed it for a day or two.” Yun Ci met Shen Yu’s unrestrained smile, his words direct: “Zi Feng, I wish to ask you for someone.”

“Who?” Shen Yu blurted out without thinking, though even as he spoke, he had already guessed the answer.

Yun Ci did not disguise his intent. “I wish to take Chu Xiu away.”

At the mention of that name, Shen Yu smiled, but his eyes grew cold. “Have you, too, been captivated by her beauty?”

“Her beauty?” Yun Ci’s brow tightened almost imperceptibly. “You know well I am not that kind of man.”

“Then why?” Shen Yu pressed. “She’s only been at East Court for how long? Not even three months, yet you’ve come to me with this request?” The anger and bitterness in his heart nearly made him forget the brotherly bond between them.

“Zi Feng!” Yun Ci’s expression turned grave as he explained, “Chu Xiu is a good woman. I don’t wish to see her mistreated by you.”

“A good woman? Mistreated?” Shen Yu laughed aloud, as if hearing a joke. “If you knew who she truly was, you might not think so highly of her.”

“It is precisely because I know who she is that I make this request,” Yun Ci answered openly. “You cannot condemn her for her background. Her past is not her fault.”

“So you know everything.” Shen Yu felt as though his heart had been cast into an abyss, his smile turning mocking. “Wanzhi, you even went so far as to investigate her. What more is there for me to say?”

Yun Ci fell silent for a moment at this jibe, then continued, “Zi Feng, if she were a woman of good family, I would never have come to you. But considering her circumstances… You are no stranger to the pleasure districts, and even now there are women living in West Court. I don’t want her to end up like them.”

“And how do you know I would let her come to such an end?” Shen Yu retorted impulsively, anger throbbing at his temples. “Can I not be sincere toward her? Why else would I risk offending the Ming family for her?”

Yun Ci did not reply at once. He regarded Shen Yu frankly for a moment before speaking with weighty calm, “You know the answer in your heart. All of Jingzhou knows the Young Marquis Shen is fickle with women. You cannot let her be hurt again.”

For a long time after, the room was silent. Now it was Shen Yu’s turn to lapse into brooding quiet.

Seeing his dejection, Yun Ci continued, “Right now, you’re reluctant to let go. But one day, you’ll throw her aside like an old shoe. How long can your affection last—one year, two? Even if you are sincere, can you give her a name? Or protect her from the Ming family’s malice?”

Yun Ci saw it all too clearly. Shen Yu was indifferent, even harsh, toward Han Chu. In the past, he did not understand why; now, he realized—it was because Shen Yu despised her past, yet could not relinquish her beauty.

If that was the case, how could he entrust Han Chu to remain here?

Confronted with Yun Ci’s questioning, Shen Yu still did not reply. The sarcasm and coldness faded from his face, leaving no trace of emotion. Just as Yun Ci prepared to speak again, Shen Yu asked in a muffled voice, “Do you care for her that much?”

Yun Ci was momentarily stunned. Understanding the implication, he quickly protested, “There is not only ‘love’ between a man and a woman. My feelings for her are… merely compassion.”

“Oh? Are you sure it is compassion, and not affection?” Shen Yu’s smile returned, edged with scorn and insight.

Compassion or affection… Yun Ci’s gaze was deep as a hidden pool; after a moment’s thought, he answered gravely, “Only compassion.”

“Is that so?” Shen Yu looked away, his gaze drifting to the muted world beyond the door. He no longer needed an answer.

“Zi Feng,” Yun Ci sighed softly, resigned as one who has seen through life and death. “You know I am not long for this world, and I have never lightly entangled myself with any woman… Chu Xiu has served me; I pity her fate and admire her talent. I merely wish to shield her and help her find a good home.”

At the words “not long for this world,” Shen Yu’s heart throbbed with pain—a wound that would never heal. Against anyone else, he could remain composed and patient.

But this was Yun Ci…

Shen Yu knew that if he did not let go today, his debt to Yun Ci would only deepen; yet if he did, though Yun Ci might feel nothing, he himself could never again be as close to him as before.

It was as though a thousand arrows pierced him at once—the agony of losing both love and friendship was more than he could bear. He knew Yun Ci did not understand his true feelings for Han Chu, yet he could not bring himself to confess.

A voice, torn and fragmented, echoed in his mind—a heart misunderstood and disregarded. What Han Chu meant to him was clear beyond words, but he owed the man before him more—so much that even his life would be a paltry offering, let alone a woman.

For all his love, Han Chu was, in the end, only a woman.

Shen Yu suddenly smiled again, gazing at the early autumn trees swaying in the wind outside. He pressed his lips together and asked, “Wanzhi, will you truly find her a good home?”

“I will,” Yun Ci answered readily. “As it happens, Physician Qu has already set out for Fangzhou. Perhaps he can cure Han Chu’s voice.”

“With the protection of the Marquis of Lixin’s household, her future will surely be bright,” Shen Yu replied, his smile tinged with self-mockery. “You and Han Chu are willing; if I stand in the way, I become the villain.”

Hearing Shen Yu yield, Yun Ci no longer concealed anything. “Chu Xiu is unwilling to leave. She says she owes you a debt of gratitude.” He smiled wryly. “Otherwise, I would not have tried to persuade you.”

Unwilling to leave—for gratitude’s sake? Shen Yu tasted the bitterness, a torment mingled with a trace of sweetness. How it pleased him that Han Chu refused Yun Ci, yet how it stung that with himself, she spoke only of gratitude.

In the end, Han Chu still did not understand him. He could not blame her—only himself.

Shen Yu closed his eyes briefly, forcing a careless, rakish smile. “She’s but a woman. If you ask, how can I refuse? If I were her, I’d choose you too.”

He paused, then looked back at Yun Ci. “I’d like to speak with her alone.”

“Don’t tell her I know she’s Han Chu,” Yun Ci instructed.

“Why?”

“I want to hear it from her own lips.”

*****

An incense stick’s time later, in the study of East Court.

“I really did underestimate you,” Shen Yu said, his voice deep, his gaze fixed on Han Chu, the faintest trace of ridicule in his tone.

Han Chu stood with lowered eyes, like a red plum blossom blooming in the snow, silent and unyielding.

“Helian Qi is gone, but now you’ve caught Wanzhi’s favor. You’ve more than made up for any loss.” He knew his words were cruel, yet he could not restrain himself.

Han Chu remained silent, unmoved.

With a rustle, Shen Yu swept the neatly cut sheets of rice paper from the desk, scattering them before her. “Wanzhi and you are of one mind—I possess no such skill. If you have anything to say, write it down.”

Han Chu let the sheets fall against her face and then, one by one, bent to pick them up. She had spent much time cutting them, ensuring their length and edges were even and smooth. To some, they were treasures of the scholar’s study; to others, mere refuse.

Suddenly, Han Chu doubted what she was holding on to, wondered if she should accept Yun Ci’s kindness. She had thought her reason for staying was conscience alone, but now it seemed the Young Marquis cared little.

With these thoughts, a hint of self-mockery surfaced in her eyes as she clutched the papers and kept her silence.

Shen Yu was overcome with anger, yet knew his actions had belittled her. He closed his eyes, attempting to calm himself, but said nothing for a long while.

The room fell into a strange silence, the two at an impasse. At last, Han Chu broke the mood, a cryptic smile blooming on her lips. She dipped her brush in ink and wrote solemnly, “I will remain in Jingzhou.”

As if stabbed by the familiar handwriting, Shen Yu laughed. “Stay? You can stay, but that’s only if I take you in.”

“That day I must have lost my wits, bringing you back. Ha! You’re a hot potato, not worth offending the Ming family over.” He forced his words to sound nonchalant, as if he truly did not care.

To wound another three parts is to wound oneself seven—such is the way of things.

Han Chu’s expression shifted at his words—not so much hurt or shame as a subtle tremor in her hand, causing two drops of ink to fall on the paper.

Shen Yu regarded the two inkblots that spread across the page, still with a mocking edge to his voice. “Have you heard the song ‘Broken Vermilion Strings’?”

Han Chu started, then nodded.

“Are you pleased with yourself?” Shen Yu looked at her. “There’s no such thing as true devotion in this world; let not immortal music move you to tears. This poem has spread throughout Nanxi. You can say you have found honor in death.”

These words drew Han Chu’s mind entirely to the poem, and she forgot Shen Yu’s sarcasm, quickly writing, “Who composed it?”

“You don’t know?” Shen Yu’s smile was still cold, his eyes dark and gleaming. “It was the Ninth Prince, Nie Peixiao. He wrote it the night before you came to East Court. The same night you met Helian Qi at the Drunken Flower Pavilion.”

So it was truly the Ninth Prince… Han Chu felt a wave of astonishment and deeper emotion. She had not expected that a prince of royal blood could pen, “Men value profit and scorn what is light; in the lonely hush of all things, the world drifts on.”

Watching her reaction, Shen Yu was unsurprised to see her moved. He had always known Han Chu longed for someone who understood her.

“So, are you torn between the Ninth Prince and the Marquis of Lixin?” His tone grew sour, mocking, his eyes avoiding hers.

At these words, Han Chu could bear it no longer. She lowered her gaze and wrote sharply, “I respect Master Yun as a teacher. I ask the Young Marquis to mind his words!”

“You respect Wanzhi as a teacher?” Shen Yu nearly laughed aloud at her reply. Yun Ci and Han Chu—even their refusals were alike. In the end, perhaps all involved were simply too caught up to see clearly.

“Between men and women, can there truly be a teacher-student bond? Do you take me for a child?” Shen Yu laughed for a long while, then struck at the heart of her denial. “Mark my words—the longer you spend together, it will be either his affection for you or your admiration for him!”

With a soft clatter, Han Chu’s brush fell to the table, splattering ink on her sleeve. As if out of spite, she nodded, formed the words with her lips, and mouthed only two: “I’m leaving.”