~ THE CRYING PHOENIX PERCHES ON QINGWU ~
Mu Yunyao returned to the rear courtyard with Madam Jin, only to find it already packed with people coming to offer congratulations.
The governor’s wife wore a dazzling smile. The imperial rewards hadn’t included her, but Governor Zhang had been granted a Lan Ling*—for an official posted outside the capital, which was an extremely precious honor. More importantly, it was practically a merit that fell into his lap. How could she not be thrilled?
Lan Ling*
Madam Jin was surrounded as well. She had just been granted the rank of a ninth-rank titled lady. No matter how jealous people were inside, they had to congratulate her sincerely on the surface.
The round of greetings and pleasantries lasted more than an hour before the governor’s wife finally arranged for everyone to take their seats.
Mu Yunyao’s seat was placed beside Madam Jin’s. As people chatted, many of them smiled and nodded at her.
Mu Yunyao kept a smile on her face—seven parts joy, three parts anxious reverence—returning every courtesy without missing a beat. Watching from the side, Madam Jin couldn’t help praising her inwardly. This girl was frighteningly clever. Madam Jin had worried Mu Yunyao might grow arrogant after receiving the Emperor’s rewards, but it seemed she’d worried for nothing.
The banquet was lively and loud, but Mu Yunyao barely tasted a thing.
Su Qingwu’s arrival had thrown her emotions into turmoil. Those blood-soaked memories she’d buried in the deepest corners of her mind surged up again. Just thinking of them made her heart ache to the bone.
“Yunyao, why does your complexion look so terrible?” Madam Jin asked softly, guilt in her eyes. “Is your hand hurting badly?”
“It’s nothing,” Mu Yunyao said, forcing steadiness into her voice. “My chest just feels a little tight. Madam needn’t worry.”
“If you truly feel unwell, go out into the courtyard for some air. There’s a small garden right beside it.”
Mu Yunyao nodded, but didn’t move. She forced herself to endure until the banquet ended.
At the entrance, Jin Lan and Jin Qiao waited by the carriage. When they saw Mu Yunyao step out looking unwell, they hurried forward to support her.
“Miss, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. Let’s go.”
Once inside the carriage, leaning against the cushioned pillow, Mu Yunyao’s face turned deathly pale. She clutched her chest and gulped in breath after breath, as if that could somehow press the pain back down.
When the carriage reached Jinling Bridge, Mu Yunyao suddenly couldn’t take it anymore.
“Stop.”
She jumped down, hand over her chest, and ran to the riverbank—then bent over and retched.
Jin Lan and Jin Qiao went white with panic. “Miss! What’s happening? Did you eat something bad?”
But at the banquet, she’d hardly eaten. She couldn’t bring anything up—only that sick, twisting nausea that wouldn’t go away.
After a long moment, she straightened and walked, step by step, toward Jinling Bridge.
“Miss?”
“I’m going to stand in the wind for a bit. Wait below.”
“…Yes. Miss, please be careful.”
Dusk was settling in. The last streaks of crimson cloud-fire still lingered in the sky, mirrored on the river in rippling red light—like the blood that soaked Yayao’s memories.
The moment she thought of the Su family, hatred rose so violently she could barely hold it back. That nightmare had wrapped around her whole life, never letting her rest for a single breath.
Mu Yunyao closed her eyes and clenched her fist hard.
The scab on her palm split open again, and fresh blood seeped out.
If she went home like this, Mother would panic. She had to pull herself together.
So Mu Yunyao forced herself to think about the Su family—again and again—digging up every fear, every humiliation, every cruel scene, replaying it in her mind like a blade carving into flesh.
The pain in her heart swallowed the pain in her palm. The wound Su Qingwu had torn open with his sudden appearance slowly hardened over, armor forming piece by piece, sealing the raw, dripping ache beneath it until she looked perfectly fine again—untouched, unbroken.
Only after acknowledging that fear did its grip weaken.
After a long time, Mu Yunyao opened her eyes. Night had fallen. The crimson clouds were gone without a trace.
She curved her lips into a smile—sweeter, smoother, more complete than before.
If Su Qingwu hadn’t appeared, she might never have realized that beneath her hatred of the Su family, there was also deep, bone-deep fear.
Good.
If she could see the fear clearly, she could overcome it—slowly, steadily.
Wasn’t she doing well already?
“Su Qingwu… Su Qingwu…” she murmured. “Cicadas love the green grass. The phoenix loves high trees. So that really is the ambition behind your name…”
A voice, warm with amusement, suddenly cut in.
“I didn’t expect Miss Mu to know the origin of my name.”
Mu Yunyao whipped around.
Su Qingwu was walking up from the other side of Jinling Bridge, unhurried. A gentle smile rested on his face—just like his voice, soft as water, refined as jade.
Su Qingwu looked at her as well.
In truth, he’d been here for quite some time.
From the moment Mu Yunyao stepped down from her carriage, he’d been standing on the opposite bank watching her. The longer he watched, the stronger that sense of “something isn’t right” grew.
His own younger sister had been thirteen once, complaining daily about how strict her nannies were, yes, but most of the time she was still carefree and bright.
This girl in front of him…
It was as if she were suppressing something with all her strength. The feeling was so intense that Su Qingwu’s chest tightened just from watching. It stirred a faint urge to probe.
The impulse came too suddenly. It flashed, then Su Qingwu pressed it down. Reason reminded him: this girl would never have anything to do with him. She was not worth the time.
But when he heard her speak his name—and recite those lines—his feet moved onto the bridge before he even realized it.
Mu Yunyao lowered herself in a curtsy. “Greetings, Lord Su. This girl misspoke for a moment. Please forgive me.”
Su Qingwu studied her, his brow twitching again. The girl before him looked gentle, her smile light and proper. No different from any other young lady he met.
As if the earlier “wrongness” had been nothing but his imagination.
“You didn’t say anything incorrect,” he said mildly. “What crime is there to forgive? My name does indeed come from those lines.”
“Thank you for your generosity, Lord Su.” Mu Yunyao’s smile stayed perfect. “It’s late. I should return home. Farewell.”
“May I ask,” Su Qingwu said with a faint smile, “when will the injury on Miss Mu’s palm heal?”
“Whenever I’m injured, it heals slowly,” Mu Yunyao replied softly. “And with the heat lately… I imagine it will take half a month.”
In another month, it would be his grandmother’s birthday. If her hand truly took half a month to heal, time would be tight.
And besides…
Making a wound heal was difficult. Making it not heal was easy.
Sure enough, disappointment flashed across Su Qingwu’s face. “What a pity. I once saw a double-sided embroidered screen of rivers and mountains—its craftsmanship was astonishing, as if made by heaven itself…”
Mu Yunyao’s expression didn’t change. “Then Lord Su can seek the person who embroidered that screen. I’m sure your honored grandmother would be even happier.”
“Many have searched for the one who embroidered it,” Su Qingwu said. “Unfortunately, no one has found them.”
“Then perhaps fate hasn’t arrived,” Mu Yunyao said evenly. “It’s late. My mother is waiting for me at home. This common girl will take her leave.”
She turned and walked down the bridge without hesitation.
Su Qingwu’s fingers moved slightly as he watched her go, but he didn’t call her back.
She had left so quickly—almost like she was afraid of him.
He was used to being chased and fawned over in the capital. Being avoided so openly felt… oddly fresh.
The moment Mu Yunyao stepped off the bridge, Jin Lan and Jin Qiao hurried to her side. Seeing her complexion return to normal, they both quietly exhaled in relief.
“Miss, are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Let’s go.”
*Lan ling is an ornament on the top hat of the Qing Dynasty. It is made of partridge feathers and inserted into the cap. Because of its blue color, it is called Lan Ling.
** 7th line of a poem from Li Bai of the Tang Dynasty: Mulberry on the road [Mo Shang Sang] Volume 165_2. 寒螀爱碧草，鸣凤栖青梧.[ Pinyin: Hán jiāng ài bì cǎo, míng fèng qī qīng wú.]
Cicadas love the green grass.
The phoenix loves high trees.
( ie. Cicadas emerge from the soil and naturally feel nostalgic for green grass, and the phoenix is high-spirited and prefers tall trees to inhabit. Also, Qingwu means high trees. Symbolically telling that, the phoenix always aims high, and so does a certain someone here, haha~).
Thank you, Hanamooi-san and Little Kitty-san 😍
ReplyDeleteSu Qingwu is probably suspecting that Yunyao was behind that unfortunate double-sided embroidered screen.
ReplyDelete