Chapter 52: Do You Know What It Means to Be Swept Along by Fate?

Early in the morning, after breakfast, Qianyun, as usual, brought the medicine to the Hall of Tranquil Mind. She turned to Zhuying and said, “I won’t be going in again today. Please trouble yourself to serve the medicine to the master.”

For three months now, Qianyun had been serving her mistress in this unseen manner. She would prepare all the meals and daily necessities, then have the young maids deliver them, or catch Danxin on her errands. The mistress, for her part, never mentioned Qianyun—when she caught sight of her, she acted as if she hadn’t seen her at all.

Zhuying, mulling this over, took the bowl of medicine from Qianyun and offered a few words of comfort: “Don’t take it too much to heart.”

Qianyun nodded silently and left without another word.

Watching her departing figure, Zhuying sighed inwardly. She then entered the room and reported, “Master, your medicine has arrived.”

“Set it down,” Yun Ci replied, pen in hand, focused on the documents before him, not even lifting his head.

Carrying the medicine inside, Zhuying hesitated for a moment at Yun Ci’s apparent indifference, then, emboldened by a rare impulse, she spoke: “Master, Miss Qianyun didn’t come in again today...”

Only then did Yun Ci pause, looking up at her. “Don’t say what shouldn’t be said,” his tone was cool—displeased, perhaps, or merely detached.

Zhuying had no choice but to serve the medicine as usual. Yun Ci drank it all in one go. “You have served at my side for years. It is for this very reason that you should know your place.” He uttered these words, knowing full well whom they were aimed at. Zhuying understood perfectly.

“Master, about Qianyun—” She was just about to plead a few words on Qianyun’s behalf, when a long-absent voice rang out:

“Brother!” Yun Xian entered the Yun Residence and made his way straight to the Hall of Tranquil Mind, unable to hide his delight. “As soon as I arrived in Chan Prefecture, I received a letter from Steward Yun, saying you’re about to be married! You’ve really put me in a rush—no sooner had I finished my tasks than I hurried home!”

Zhuying’s eyelids twitched at once. She glanced at Yun Ci, hesitating, but seeing his expression unchanged, she saluted, “Third Young Master,” and quietly withdrew.

Regarding his marriage, Yun Ci had recently granted Chu Xiu leave and kept her away from serving in the Hall of Tranquil Mind. Now, seeing there was no one else around, he no longer bothered with propriety. He said to Yun Xian, “You needn’t have hurried. If you hadn’t come, the date could have been postponed a few days.”

“Auspicious dates can’t just be moved,” Yun Xian laughed. “I came back to lend a hand, see if there’s anything I can do.”

“That won’t be necessary. How did your tasks in Chan Prefecture go?” Yun Ci asked, steady as ever.

“Brother, you never miss a detail.” Yun Xian handed over the documents he’d been holding. “Everything is here—the condition of the businesses and shops before and after the reorganization. All went smoothly; it’s all been settled.”

Yun Ci took the documents, glanced through them, and set them aside. “On your trip to Chan Prefecture, how was Fourth Aunt?”

“Fourth Aunt?” Yun Xian paused, his expression awkward. “She only stayed in Jiang for two days, acted secretively, and kept everyone at arm’s length... As the younger generation, I didn’t dare pry.”

Yun Ci nodded thoughtfully. If that was so, Luanqing must have found the herb she sought; had she failed, she would surely have sent word.

With that, Yun Ci continued, “Go rest for now, and on your way, ask Fourth Aunt to come see me.”

“Yes,” Yun Xian bowed and withdrew, still bearing the dust of his long journey.

*****

As the day of Yun Ci’s wedding drew ever closer, Chu Xiu began to seclude herself in her room, practicing her calligraphy, obeying Yun Ci’s instruction not to leave. The entire Yun Residence was swept up in a jubilant air—lanterns festooned every hall, the house newly refurbished, all in anticipation of welcoming its new mistress, the future Marchioness of Li Xin.

Even the servants had all prepared new clothes for the occasion. Those serving in the Pavilion of Wisdom and Speech outdid themselves, wishing for everything, head to toe, to be brand new. Chu Xiu was no exception.

It was said that the Xia family had hired the best embroiderer of the age, who had worked day and night for three months to create a peerless wedding gown, adorned with Canglang pearls, radiant and resplendent.

It was said the Xia family had prepared eighty-one sedan chairs of dowry, and a thousand acres of fine land as part of the bride’s trousseau.

It was said that the Dowager herself had selected the Yun family’s own brocade house to hurriedly weave and tailor all the wedding fabrics—curtains and bedding, window drapes, even the silk handkerchief covering the nuptial wine cups—all were to be of the finest material and workmanship.

It was said that the Yun Residence had seen a constant stream of visitors lately, with congratulations pouring in from all regions for the marquis’s wedding, and the gifts had filled the entire Fragrant Garden.

There was but a month left until the wedding day of Yun Ci and the Xia family’s young lady. As the day approached, rumors abounded, and the joy seemed boundless, as if the whole world would join in the celebration.

The ninth day of the ninth lunar month—long, long lasting—had been chosen by the Dowager as the auspicious day for the wedding. And today, it was the fifteenth day of the eighth month, the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Looking back to this day last year, they were still at the Rainbow Pursuit Pavilion. There was no distinction of master and servant, no coldness or distance—Yun Ci, Shen Yu, and a few attendants gathered together for a meal. On that day, Yun Ci had, for the first time, taken her hand and, hand over hand, guided her in writing the character “moon.”

The warmth of his palm still lingered, vivid as yesterday. Yet this year, for the first time, she would sit beneath the full moon alone.

“Chu Xiu,” lost in thought, she was roused by Danxin’s knock. “In the Garden of Drunken Moon, there’s singing and wine games tonight. Would you like to join us?”

“No, you go ahead,” Chu Xiu set down her brush and looked out. “I’m practicing my calligraphy.”

“Chu Xiu...” Danxin’s excitement waned, and after a moment’s hesitation, she said, “You... try not to take it too hard. In the eyes of many, you are already blessed beyond measure...”

To this, Chu Xiu only smiled silently, her gaze still resting on the paper.

Danxin bit her tongue, inwardly berating herself for her poor attempts at comfort.

“I have always been content,” Chu Xiu said after a while, blinking her long lashes and smiling gently at Danxin. “I simply don’t wish to join the festivities. I only want to focus on my calligraphy.”

The flickering candlelight cast her delicate features in a soft glow, her eyes limpid as water, luminous as the moon—a gentle, captivating beauty that made even the night outside seem dim by comparison. She was smiling, without any sign of forced cheer, yet Danxin found her smile unspeakably lonely, an inexplicable ache rising within.

Danxin said nothing more, pretending not to notice, and smiled as usual. “Very well, you do love your calligraphy. I’ll be off, then.”

“Mm.” Chu Xiu nodded. “Don’t drink too much.”

Watching Danxin’s pale yellow figure disappear around the corridor, Chu Xiu quietly drew the curtains, shutting out the moonlight, and returned to her desk to write the character “moon” once more.

After a year’s practice, she could finally render it well. “The left stroke as sharp as a dagger; the right, slicing clean; the vertical hook slender and upright—only then does it appear elegant and lean.” She still remembered his instructions.

But she wondered if he remembered too—or, if he would, for much longer.

“What are you doing?” A gentle voice called her back to herself. The half-closed door was pushed open, and there stood Yun Ci and Zhuying.

Chu Xiu hurriedly set aside her brush and rose with a smile. “My lord.” It would be a lie to say she felt nothing—on such a festival, for him to set aside the whole household and condescend to visit a maid’s quarters, even for a moment, was enough to move her.

How humbly she loved.

Zhuying wheeled Yun Ci into the room, and at a gesture from her master, quietly withdrew, closing the door tightly behind her.

“On such a night, when moon and people are reunited, what brings you here?” Chu Xiu asked softly.

“On such a night, when moon and people are reunited, isn’t this where I should be?” Yun Ci replied, then glanced at the desk. “What are you writing?”

“Nothing, just practicing,” Chu Xiu answered.

As she finished speaking, Yun Ci rolled his wheelchair close, picked up the paper from the table, and lowered his gaze to the page covered with the character “moon.”

That single word brought a flood of memories from a year before. But now, everything was different. Yun Ci knew this in his heart, and was filled with bittersweet emotion. “Chu Xiu...”

“What is it?” Chu Xiu forced a smile. “Is my writing poor?”

“How could it be?” Yun Ci’s gaze lingered on the page. After a moment, he said, “Shall we share a cup of wine tonight, just the two of us?”

“You don’t usually drink.”

“Just a little, tonight—it’s no matter.”

The bright, moonlit night was silent as a treasure mirror rising in the sky. The faint strains of music drifting from afar seemed a world away, unable to disturb the intimacy within this room.

The sound of their glass cups ringing together was crisp and clear. They exchanged cups and drained them at once.

Perhaps it was the wine that emboldened him, that compelled honesty. After a cup, Yun Ci felt his mind grow warm, and he tried to speak: “Chu Xiu, about me and Miss Xia...”

“My lord,” Chu Xiu interrupted softly, “could we not speak of that tonight?”

Yun Ci fell silent for a moment, clutching his cup. “Very well.” He looked at Chu Xiu; her expression remained unchanged.

“Are you resentful, in your heart?” He could not help himself.

Chu Xiu only lowered her eyes and laughed quietly. “I have no right to resent. With such a soiled body as mine, to receive your favor is already a blessing beyond measure.”

“Chu Xiu!” Yun Ci chided her.

“My lord, forgive me. I misspoke—let me drink as penalty.” She poured herself a cup and drank. “As the Marquis of Li Xin, you must take a wife and continue your line. I have never resented you, only felt grateful.”

“Chu Xiu...” he murmured her name again, the same two words, but each time the meaning changed. A moment ago it was chiding; now, it was helplessness.

“I said not to speak of it, yet here I am, bringing it up,” Chu Xiu said with a self-mocking smile. “Why not tell me how you came to know the young marquis? I’ve always wondered—your temperaments are so different. How did you become such close friends?”

At the mention of Shen Yu, Yun Ci naturally thought of the poison lingering from the womb. As he pondered how to reply, Chu Xiu’s face suddenly changed. She covered her mouth, retching.

“Chu Xiu!” Yun Ci reached out for her, but she patted her own chest, steadying her breath. “It’s nothing, I must have drunk too quickly.”

Now it was Yun Ci’s turn to pale. He quickly took her pulse, and after a moment, his heart was a tumult of emotions.

How he had yearned for a child that was theirs alone. Now, at last, the moment had come. Yet... the timing could not have been worse.

“You are nearly three months pregnant,” Yun Ci said solemnly.

“Pregnant?” Chu Xiu was first startled, then overjoyed. She remembered his words from that night—how he had said he wanted her to bear his child.

But her joy had only just kindled when it was extinguished by his next words: “Chu Xiu, this child cannot be kept.”