Chapter Twenty-Five: Nangong's Reminiscence

Before long, Ruyi returned. Yin Ruxin rose and went to open the gate for her. Ruyi approached and said quietly, “Miss, the sedan chair has been arranged for Young Master Yang. Left Protector asked me to inform you that there are two men hiding at the entrance of the alley. They have been rendered unconscious for the time being. Once Young Master Yang leaves, those two will awaken. The second prince of the King of Qin is having tea in the teahouse near the entrance to Wuyi Alley on Qinhuai Street. Left Protector said Young Master Yang should ride the sedan to Qinhuai Street, then find an opportunity to disembark. She will make arrangements so that the second prince sees Young Master Yang strolling on Qinhuai Street and will ensure that, even if the prince follows him, Young Master Yang can return safely to the Nangong Manor.”

Yin Ruxin nodded, then turned to look at Yang Yaozong, who was sitting in the pavilion, her eyes filled with tender affection and reluctance. After all, their relationship had just been confirmed; how could she bear to let him leave now? Yet there was nothing she could do to make him stay.

Yang Yaozong met Yin Ruxin’s gaze, his eyes brimming with emotion. He walked over and said softly, “I’m going back now.”

As he looked at her with such gentle affection, Yin Ruxin’s heart melted with sweetness and warmth. She nodded, murmuring an assent. Watching Yang Yaozong board the sedan chair, she stood at the gate, seeing him off until the sedan disappeared from sight, then returned to the courtyard with Ruyi.

She stood for a long moment in the courtyard, gazing toward the embroidery tower at the back. Everything that had happened that afternoon was beyond her expectations, filling her with delight and happiness that left her still trembling with excitement. A sweet, blissful smile blossomed on her delicate face, so radiant that Ruyi, standing beside her, was momentarily transfixed. Ruyi thought to herself that her young mistress was truly beautiful today, almost like a fairy descended to earth.

Ruyi had served Yin Ruxin as her maid since childhood, caring for her in daily life. She knew a little martial arts—not enough to be exceptional, but sufficient to deal with ruffians and to offer some protection to her mistress.

Yin Ruxin told Ruyi everything that had happened between her and Yang Yaozong, hiding nothing. Ruyi was at first astonished, then anxious, but seeing the happiness and resolve on Yin Ruxin’s face, she understood her mistress well. Ever since Yin Ruxin had met Yang Yaozong, Ruyi had noticed her mistress’s unusual concern and feelings for him in her words and actions. She too had thought Yang Yaozong, being a live-in son-in-law, could not possibly bring happiness to her mistress. Thus, she had often tried to gently caution her not to fall too deeply. But some things, once begun, cannot be stopped. Still worried for her mistress, Ruyi knew she could not dissuade her, so she resolved to do whatever she could to help her young mistress and Yang Yaozong, hoping they might find happiness together.

Yin Ruxin, blushing, confided to Ruyi that from tomorrow on, she wanted her to pass by the entrance to Nangong Manor around mid-morning each day, to make it easier for Yang Yaozong to send messages. Ruyi agreed without hesitation. Yin Ruxin knew Ruyi would do anything for her. Though they were mistress and maid, their bond was as close as sisters. Some things she could share with Ruyi, but not even with her elder sister, Yin Ruyun. When she had just told Ruyi about her and Yang Yaozong, she had seen anxiety and concern in Ruyi’s eyes, which finally turned into resolute support. Yin Ruxin was deeply moved.

With Yin Ruxin’s careful arrangements, Yang Yaozong returned safely to Nangong Manor. As he approached the gate, he saw Xiaohua waiting anxiously. At the sight of him, she hurried over in a fluster, her tone a mix of worry and complaint: “Young Master! It’s so late already. You mustn’t do this again. Even if I can’t accompany you, you should take a servant along. Miss will worry about you, and so will I!”

Yang Yaozong found her endearing, always thinking of her mistress. He smiled, “It’s all right. I just took a longer walk than usual.” The sky was already overcast, and even if not, it would be dusk by now; today, it seemed even darker. “Yes, I was wrong. Sorry to have worried you. I admit my mistake and will reflect on it.”

Xiaohua hadn’t expected Yang Yaozong to admit fault when she was anxiously scolding him. Seeing that he wasn’t angry, she mumbled, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not asking you to reflect on anything. I was just worried, that’s all.” Her voice wavered as if she might burst into tears, her words tinged with barely suppressed sobs.

Seeing her red eyes and anxious face, Yang Yaozong laughed, flicked her nose, and said, “I know. Come, let’s go back. I have something to discuss with you and Steward Hao.”

Back in the main hall, after Xiaohua had called for Steward Hao, Yang Yaozong told them about the emperor’s summons for the next day, saying only that the two visitors at midday had come with the imperial decree. He did not mention that the crown prince himself had come to deliver it. Even so, the news that he would be summoned by the emperor was enough to alarm both Xiaohua and Steward Hao, who anxiously tried to deduce the reason. Despite analyzing Yang Yaozong’s recent behavior, they could not find a cause for the emperor’s attention.

Xiaohua, on the verge of tears, said, “If only Master and Miss were home.” Steward Hao frowned deeply. He cared for Yang Yaozong, the young master of Nangong Manor, but his greater concern was for the entire household, fearing that the imperial summons might bring calamity. He suggested inviting Old Master Mu, as well as Ministers Qin and Zuo, to discuss matters together, as all three were Master’s friends. Xiaohua agreed and hurried to send for them, but Yang Yaozong stopped her.

Yang Yaozong smiled calmly, “Thank you, Steward Hao, Xiaohua, for your concern. The emperor is only summoning me. Most likely, it is out of consideration for my father-in-law and Miss Qingyi, who are both defending the borders, and I am a family member left behind. Think about it—if there were truly ill intentions, they would just arrest me outright. Why bother with a summons? Even if the emperor were angry with me and wanted to punish me, he would have to consider the situation at the border first. So, I am sure nothing will go wrong. Someone will escort me to the palace in the morning; just wait for my return. At the latest, I’ll be back by the afternoon.”

Steward Hao thought carefully and nodded. “You’re right, Young Master. I was overthinking it.” He now regarded Yang Yaozong with greater appreciation. Xiaohua, though still anxious, could only furrow her brow in silence after seeing Steward Hao agree. In her heart, she was already planning: if Yang Yaozong did not return, she would seek out Master’s friends and immediately write to Miss and Master. Her little hands were clenched tightly.

After their discussion, Yang Yaozong went with Xiaohua to the rear courtyard to see Bruno. After all, today’s harvest and all the plants in the back garden had been tended by Bruno alone, since Yang Yaozong had been out all afternoon; it had been a hard day’s work for him.

On the way, seeing Xiaohua still looking downcast, Yang Yaozong teased her, “Did you eat the tomato I gave you?”

She looked up and replied softly, “I did. It was really delicious. You’re amazing, Young Master. If Miss could taste the tomatoes you grew herself, she’d be so happy.”

Yang Yaozong laughed heartily. “You never stop thinking about your Miss, do you? She’ll have plenty of chances to eat them. Once I’ve cultivated more new crops, I’ll make sure she has her fill. And you too, Xiaohua.”

Blushing, Xiaohua smiled shyly. “As long as Miss has enough, I don’t mind. Those fruits you harvested are precious.”

Yang Yaozong flicked her nose again, chuckling. “You silly girl!”

Touching her nose, a little embarrassed, Xiaohua followed Yang Yaozong toward the rear courtyard.

Night deepened, and a fine drizzle began to nourish the capital. Apart from the occasional croak of a frog and the quiet chatter of the night watchmen at the front gate, all was peaceful at Nangong Manor.

Meanwhile, far away at Yanmen Pass, Nangong Qingyi finally found a moment’s respite. She changed out of her armor into a plain white robe, her long hair cascading freely down her back, her brows slightly furrowed with a trace of heroic spirit. Her almond-shaped eyes, set in a face of exquisite beauty, were shadowed with exhaustion, accentuating her ethereal grace.

She sat quietly in her tent; behind her was a folding screen draped with a map of the Yanmen Pass region. Before her, a long table held stacks of military reports on the left, a brush rack and inkstone on the right, and an oil lamp at the front. Behind the screen was her simple bed.

At this moment, she held a letter in her hand and, in the dim light, read it carefully. Occasionally, a faint smile would appear, only to fade just as quickly.

It was a letter from Xiaohua, detailing everything that had happened in the half month since Yang Yaozong had awakened. It mentioned the poems he had composed, Yin Ruxin’s growing affection for him, and the general affairs of the household. At the end, Xiaohua urged her to take care of her health, and sent greetings to Master Nangong Zhan, as well as to Xiaoqin, Xiaoqi, and Xiaoshi.

“These feelings can only be recalled with longing; at the time, they were already lost in confusion.”

“Mist shrouds the cold water, moonlight bathes the sand; At night, I moor by Qinhuai, near the taverns and bars. The singing girls know nothing of a fallen nation’s grief, Across the river, they still sing the ‘Courtyard Flowers.’”

Nangong Qingyi softly read the verses Xiaohua had included, trying to conjure an image of Yang Yaozong in her mind. Yet it remained only a vague outline. She did not know him—though she had married him, from the day the army set out until this letter, she had never really thought of her husband. Now, his appearance was a blur: a man of average height, slender and pale, yet handsome.

Xiaohua’s letter was full of praise for Yang Yaozong, describing his learning and talent, his humor and amiability. Nangong Qingyi thought Xiaohua was simply doing her utmost to help her form a favorable impression of her husband, to strengthen the bond between them. After all, he was a stranger to her; they had no emotional connection, not even any real communication.

But as for his poetry, Nangong Qingyi found herself giving him a favorable evaluation, a fair judgment for a scholar. Her impression of this husband was now somewhat improved—at least better than the silent, awkward figure she had imagined before.

Beneath the soft yellow glow of the lamp, Nangong Qingyi, cheeks slightly flushed, took up her brush and wrote in elegant script upon the crisp white page:

“To my husband, Yaozong, personally received and read…”