She didn’t want anything — everything she had wanted was meaningless now, had become a joke.
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Ch. 12.2
The doctor injected her with a sedative and while lying dazed and inconsolable in bed, she dimly heard Murong Feng’s voice which held a note of anger as he demanded, ‘Where’s that Xu? What exactly did he say to her?’
It seemed to be Lan Qin who returned an answer in a low voice. Jingwan could not hear her clearly and only felt terribly hurt, as if something was stifling her chest, making it impossible for her to breathe. Perceiving that she was already awake, Murong Feng stooped and said her name softly, ‘Jingwan.’
Despite feeling as if a knife were being twisted in her heart¹, she still lifted her chin so that the tears wouldn’t roll down.
¹ 心如刀絞 xīnrúdāojiǎo. If you’re not reading this chapter at hiding in plain sight, it has been stolen and reproduced by novelscraping sites.
He said, ‘Don’t cry, I’ll send someone now to fetch Xu Jianzhang here.’
She had been enduring it all this while but when she heard this, her eyes smarted and she had to fight the tears back with all her might. She had never been so vulnerable before: she couldn’t afford to recall what Xu Jianzhang had said, couldn’t afford to recall how he had looked; he was actually doing this to her, he was actually throwing her aside.
She had done so much for his sake, had almost died for him, even disregarded the most important thing to a girl – her good name – but he was actually treating her like this, he was actually casting her aside just because he was a slave to public opinion. The tears pricking her eyes finally rolled down.
Murong Feng had never seen her shed tears before and hastily said, ‘Don’t cry. What do you want done? I’ll send someone immediately to do it.’
She shook her head while choking on her sobs. She didn’t want anything — everything she had wanted was meaningless now, had become a joke. She lifted a hand and brushed away her tears: she did not want to cry, she must not cry. All these years the belief that she could carry all before her² had, with just a light blow, collapsed abruptly as had her world with it. She, who had always been so strong-minded, had ended up like this after all. She had always fancied herself invincible, only to be dealt a fatal blow by her nearest and dearest.
Shen Jiaping came in and said a few quiet words into Murong Feng’s ear. The latter responded angrily, ‘Get him back here even if he’s boarded the train.’
Her heart was filled with grief and she reached out instinctively to clutch his sleeve, as though clutching at a lifeline. He could see the corners of her mouth trembling. She looked as lost and as helpless as a baby; he had never seen her like this before and it stirred his pity. He grasped her hand in turn, saying, ‘Jingwan…’
She simply did not want to think about it any more but he was vowing, ‘If you want him to come back, I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen.’
Jingwan’s heart ached as she recalled what had been said earlier: every word was like a keen knife thrust deep into her vital organs. Murong Feng was gripping her hand tightly. The joint between his thumb and forefinger had calluses from pistol use and they chafed her hand. Xu Jianzhang’s grip had always been gentle whereas Murong Feng’s was forceful. She was feeling cold all over and the only source of warmth came from his hand, like a tiny flame in winter, which caused her to be reluctant to let go. She was terribly distressed, but there was also a faint feeling of unease and she had no idea what was causing it, nor did she want to analyse it.
Drawing in her breath with an effort, she fought back her tears and implored, ‘Let him… let him go…’
² 無堅不摧 wújiān-bùcuī. Translation belongs to theresanother(DOT)wordpress(DOT)com.
Chengzhou lay in the north and had an arid climate, so the rain that fell for three consecutive days was a rare sight indeed. The rain which fell silently was like fine silver needles or the hairs of a cow; the breeze that stirred the curtains ushered in a cool moisture. A few pagoda trees stood in full bloom outside the window, their creamy flowers disarranged by the wind and rain while the faint fragrance that came wafting in on the breeze was clear and cool.
Zhao Shuning had come to visit Jingwan and when she saw Lan Qin sitting at a small table shelling walnuts, asked, ‘Why not ask the kitchen staff to do it?’
Lan Qin pursed her lips before replying with a laugh, ‘Sixth Marshal asked me to do it. It’s for making walnut lotus seed congee and he’s afraid that the kitchen won’t shell them cleanly enough.’
Zhao Shuning chatted with Jingwan for a while. The latter turned her face and looked at the scene outside, remarking, ‘It’s still raining.’
Zhao Shuning replied, ‘Mhm, it’s been raining for two to three days already. This year’s harvest will be very good. The drought last year really had the Old Marshal worried and in the end, Liù Gē (Sixth Brother) still had to go down in person to the South to procure provisions.’
As her eye fell on a basket in front of the bed completely filled with a few hundred stalks of pomegranate flowers as red as burning torches and looking ready to burst into flame, Shuning commented, ‘These would make the prettiest embroidered ball.’
Lan Qin laughed and remarked, ‘Biǎo Xiǎojiě (lit. Miss Cousin) has the most adroit hands. Whether you make flower arrangements or embroidered balls, everyone will be bound to praise them.’
Shuning said, ‘Since I’m free, I’ll make one for Miss Yin to play with.’
Lan Qin thus went to fetch some fine copper wire and then picked well over a hundred of those flaming red pomegranate flowers.
Zhao Shuning sat down at the head of the bed and began fashioning an embroidered ball. Jingwan could see how clever her hands were and within a short while, a bright red ball was completed. Shuning strung the tassels with some silk thread and asked, ‘Shall we hang it at the head of the bed?’
Jingwan was partial to such bright colours and said with a laugh, ‘What clever hands you have.’
Shuning replied, ‘I learned it from Aunty. She had the cleverest hands and was a really lovely person.’ Her eyes darkened suddenly as she continued, ‘It’s so sad that she passed away so early. The Old Marshal was fighting on the front at the time and although Sixth Marshal was still young, he had the final say in all the funeral arrangements. Liù Gē (Sixth Brother) was so playful and not at all sensible when he was younger but he just matured overnight after Aunty’s death. All we knew to do then was cry while he was the one who summoned the aides, told them to cable the news to the Old Marshal and then asked about all the funeral arrangements in a very adult way.’
Jingwan asked in passing, ‘How old was he then?’
Shuning replied, ‘All of twelve. He just couldn’t grow taller and the Old Marshal was always saying that he wasn’t even as tall as a rifle.’
Lan Qin interjected with a smile, ‘There are a lot of childhood photos of Sixth Marshal in the main house. I’ll bring some for you to see.’ She then left the room without waiting for Jingwan’s response.
Although Jingwan had only known Zhao Shuning for a few days, she felt that the girl was refined and gentle. Now she wondered what the latter was thinking as she sat there quietly, her head slightly bowed, her long lashes like little fans, holding a pomegranate flower and plucking its fiery-red petals which drifted down one by one to the carpet.
Lan Qin had returned with many photographs which she placed on the bed one at a time to show Jingwan.
‘This was taken when they were still living in Wangzhou; this is the Old Marshal with Sixth Marshal; this is Madam with Sixth Marshal…’
Jingwan picked up the last photograph. Murong Feng appeared to have been around ten or eleven at the time. A woman with delicately pretty features was seated in the middle while Murong Feng stood beside her chair, his lineaments still those of a proud and wilful child’s. Just as she was lost in thought, they suddenly heard the sound of footsteps outside, followed by the sound of the guards saluting. She was already very familiar with the sound of footsteps in leather shoes; sure enough, Murong Feng had returned.
He came several times a day to see how she was. Today he seemed to have just come in from outside and had not even changed out of uniform, removing his hat as he came in. Lan Qin hurriedly received it from him as Shuning rose to her feet.
He looked first to see how Jingwan was and asked with a smile, ‘You look much better today. Have you eaten yet?’
Jingwan shook her head as he disclosed, ‘I’ve sent the car to pick up a very important guest whom you’ll be most happy to see.’ When he saw the photos spread out on the bed, he couldn’t help asking with a laugh³, ‘Now what made you think of looking at these?’ Stooping, he picked up one of the photos and studied his younger self before remarking, ‘Some time ago a newspaper interviewed me and took two very good half-length photos which I’ll show to you later on.’
³ 笑逐顏開 xiàozhú-yánkāi. Please consider reading from hiding in plain sight rather than from novelscraping sites.
Jingwan laughed briefly and asked, ‘Who’s the important guest?’
Murong Feng was in a very good mood and replied, ‘I shan’t tell you now. You can see for yourself later.’ He then realised that Zhao Shuning was also present and asked, ‘Is Fourth Madam ready to dine?’
Shuning replied, ‘I’ve been here for a while so I don’t know.’ After a pause, she added, ‘I should be getting back for dinner already. I’ll come see you again tomorrow, Miss Yin.’
Aware of their family rules and knowing that even the senior womenfolk of the household were in awe of Murong Feng, Jingwan did not attempt to make her stay.
Although Murong Feng was being very mysterious, Jingwan did not think much of it. It was while he was conversing with her that an aide came in and reported, ‘Sixth Marshal, Old Master Yin has arrived.’
Jingwan, both astonished and overjoyed, only felt that she had to be dreaming. She then heard an aide ushering someone in — it really was Yin Chufan.
On the verge of tears, she called out, ‘Papa…’
Yin Chufan hurried forward and grasped her hands, his own eyes misty as he said, ‘Jingwan, how are you? Your mother and I have been nearly out of our minds with worry.’
A feeling of having been wronged as well as sadness were commingled with happiness and guilt and despite her eyes being wet with tears, she forced herself to smile and say, ‘Papa… I’m… quite all right.’
(Approx. 1844 words)
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