Tassels hung low; the golden toad incense burner sent fragrant smoke curling around kingfisher-green jade. Spring swallows returned, yet upon returning one could only think of paired wings. On the branches of the third month, pear blossoms had just begun to open.
At the Duke of Anding’s residence, incense burned and jade lay broken, while a lifetime’s heart-blood drained across the floor.
Li Congjia looked at the shattered pieces of the ancient qin scattered before him and flicked his sleeve. Enough. It had all been nothing more than a fool’s dream.
He walked over and saw that Hongxiu’s body was already growing cold, the chill of Qingu seeping outward from within her. Slowly, he lifted her into his arms. Ehuang stood nearby, silently shedding tears. Everything had happened so suddenly that it was almost impossible to accept. Liuzhu and the other servants, however, were so alarmed by his action that they dropped to their knees. “Miss Hongxiu’s death is suspicious. Duke of Anding, it would be better not to touch her.”
Ehuang was just about to step forward and persuade him when she suddenly noticed the strange bracelet visible at his wrist beneath his sleeve. It appeared to be made of red sandalwood. The words at her lips faltered again. She did not remember Li Congjia ever owning such a thing, and he was not someone who casually wore ornaments like this.
What had happened during the period when he had disappeared just now? Was it connected to Hongxiu’s death? Her beautiful eyes shifted. Li Congjia’s grief seemed far greater than what a handful of brief meetings with Hongxiu should have inspired. What twists and turns had he concealed from her, and how had Hongxiu become involved?
Or perhaps, in the end, she had missed something after all.
She could only let him do as he wished. Li Congjia carried the woman in cold scarlet robes slowly outside, while Ehuang ordered the servants to follow carefully and prepare a carriage. If he had made Hongxiu a promise, he would certainly keep it. Besides, from the way things looked now, there had to be something hidden behind all this.
Li Congjia insisted on personally returning her to Green Willow Lane.
“Master, if you go to Green Willow Lane, in less than half a day every street and alley in Jinling will be filled with gossip. Please let us properly escort Miss Hongxiu back instead…”
“Who gave you permission to speak out of turn?” Li Congjia suddenly asked coldly. He was nothing like his usual self, who rarely bothered to take offense at them. Today, he truly seemed angry.
There was nothing they could do. They could only guard him on both sides as they followed the Duke of Anding along the winding corridors toward the gates of the residence.
A languid figure leaned against a gatepost not far outside the Duke of Anding’s residence, resting there as though waiting for something. Though his body was curled up, every so often he furtively glanced toward the magnificent gates of the Sixth Prince’s estate. He still looked half asleep, as though he had not slept all night and had been waiting there since early morning.
A-Shui idly played with stones on the ground. Early that morning, he had secretly hidden outside the Crown Prince’s residence and waited for a long time before seeing Hongxiu and her party emerge. Something about her had seemed different from usual. Wondering whose residence Hongxiu was going to visit this time, he had followed them all the way until he saw that scarlet figure enter the Duke of Anding’s residence.
A person scented with red sandalwood.
All this time, he had been able to hear faint, elegant music drifting from inside the Duke of Anding’s residence. A-Shui privately calculated how long Hongxiu might remain there, while also wondering whether, if nothing happened today, he might persuade her to go home and visit his mother. Aunt Fan had missed her for a very long time. He dragged his stone back and forth through the dusty ground, and without realizing it, countless characters for “Hong” appeared beneath his hand.
Suddenly, he heard movement at the residence gates. Voices rose and the interior abruptly became noisy. A-Shui hurried to his feet. Without even bothering to brush the dust from his clothes, he ducked behind the wooden notice board and left only one eye exposed as he secretly watched.
An ordinary blue carriage decorated with golden curtains was driven to a stop outside the residence. Its restrained elegance alone revealed that its owner possessed extraordinary status. The great doors opened. Several carriage attendants emerged first, hurrying to lift the curtain. Then he saw Hongxiu’s usual little maid being helped out, crying so violently that she could barely stand.
His heart sank. What…?
He craned his neck desperately, trying to hear what was happening. Piaopeng emerged first and looked carefully in every direction. Only after confirming that no unrelated people were nearby did he wave toward those inside.
Liuzhu followed Li Congjia out, holding up the long scarlet train of a robe.
A-Shui saw an incomparably splendid yet startlingly translucent figure emerge, carrying someone in his arms. Who was it? Before he could think, he caught sight of the long trail of red gauze.
His entire body suddenly stiffened. Blood rushed violently to his head until he nearly suffocated.
Who? Who is it?
The answer could not have been clearer. Hongxiu’s maid, who had always served beside her, was on the ground crying with unbearable grief.
Who else could it possibly be?
A-Shui collapsed. Countless possibilities flashed through his mind. What had happened to Hongxiu? Was she injured? Was she ill? Had something happened to her? Why was that man carrying her? What exactly had happened?
He did not dare think any further.
He could not make out the expression of the man dressed in Mountains-and-Rivers Brocade. He only saw him place Hongxiu inside the carriage, turn back to say something to Ehuang, and then climb aboard himself.
A terrible premonition seized A-Shui. He nearly rushed forward, but the carriage was already speeding away.
Ehuang watched the dust raised by the carriage until at last she covered her face and wept. Liuzhu hurriedly supported her back inside.
Today should have been a beautiful day. The sunlight was brilliant. Blossoms opened and fell; apricot flowers crowded the branches, dressed for whom? Warm spring light spread for ten li, illuminating the city gates and countless households beyond. People said both riverbanks were filled with bustling voices, that the spring radiance seemed to belong to Jiangnan itself, that not even a city full of drifting catkins could conceal its prosperity. But who could see the narrow strip of sky above Green Willow Lane, illuminating withered branches that could never blossom again?
The priceless hem of Li Congjia’s robe swept carelessly across the muddy ground of Green Willow Lane. The entrance stretched deep into shadow with no end in sight. Piaopeng frowned. “Master, this… We can go inside…” Li Congjia refused to put Hongxiu down. Holding her, he walked straight into the lane without hesitation.
Dead trees whose roots had tangled for who knew how many years lined the way. Crooked roots and vines pushed through the earth, and together with the damp mud left by the spring rains, they made the houses on either side appear filthy and forlorn. The dilapidated homes were far removed from anything their party had imagined. Some households clearly still valued cleanliness and had tidied their tiny courtyards as neatly as they could, yet even that could not hide the desolation. Piaopeng stopped a man clutching a jar of wine as he drowsily leaned against a basket of some kind of fruit and asked whether he knew where Miss Hongxiu had once lived. The man’s face was flushed red. Irritated, he waved them away and simply closed his eyes again. Piaopeng was about to ask someone else when an elderly woman carrying a wooden basin emerged from a low courtyard across the way.
Her clothes were at least clean, and her kindly features immediately inspired trust. When she turned and saw them, she was plainly shocked. Never had people dressed with such splendor entered this lane. The man at their head was even carrying a woman. Though he wore no ostentatious display of gold and jade, the bearing surrounding him was far beyond anything people like her dared stare at freely. The woman did not look particularly old, but her hair had turned white far too early. The instant she saw Piaopeng approaching, she quickly turned away and hurried forward with her basin of clothes, afraid of becoming involved in some trouble.
Piaopeng stepped into her path. Looking at her carefully, he lowered his voice. “Do you know whether a young woman named Hongxiu once lived in this lane?”
The elderly woman had originally been avoiding them, unwilling to invite trouble, but at the name she suddenly froze. “Hong… Hongxiu? Hong’er?”
Piaopeng glanced toward the Duke of Anding. Hong’er was probably Miss Hongxiu. He nodded. “Perhaps. Where did this Miss Hong’er live before?”
The elderly woman plainly seemed to remember something. She turned fully around and strained to examine Li Congjia. “You…”
“Do not be rude!” Piaopeng barked sharply. Before he could finish, Li Congjia silenced him with a look. “Do you think we are not conspicuous enough already?” Li Congjia said, then looked toward the woman. Slowly, she walked closer, her gaze fixed upon the person in his arms.
Hong’er? Hong’er!
Li Congjia thought she might have known Hongxiu and was just about to speak when the elderly woman suddenly shoved him aside. No one knew where she found the strength. Throwing away the wooden basin, she seized Hongxiu’s dangling arm and pulled her out of Li Congjia’s embrace.
Hongxiu’s limp body, icy and without support, collapsed together with the woman onto the ground. Li Congjia nearly lost his footing when he was shoved aside. He frowned and looked over, his expression filled with sorrow. “She…”
“What did you do to her?” the woman suddenly screamed, cradling Hongxiu’s bloodstained mouth. Her eyes were clouded and exhausted, yet their desperate sharpness swept over every person present. The sight filled Li Congjia with unbearable sorrow. Perhaps none of this could truly be blamed upon any one person, but this struggle had always been meant to be a sacrifice between himself and Li Hongji.
It should never have fallen upon a woman to bear everything.
Li Congjia had heard that Hongxiu had lost both parents when she was young. Then who was this woman before him? He respectfully asked, only to receive blazing fury from her eyes.
Piaopeng finally could not stand it. “This was not our master’s fault. We do not understand what happened either…”
The woman seemed incapable of hearing anything they said. She only stroked Hongxiu’s already frozen face and slowly pressed her own against it. “Hong’er, Aunt Fan was only speaking of you yesterday… and today you finally came home…”
Li Congjia stood quietly nearby watching. She clutched Hongxiu’s dancing robe tightly. “Hong’er was always so filial to Aunt Fan. Hurry and get up. Let Aunt Fan look at you… Get up…” Halfway through her words, tears burst forth, almost impossible to restrain. “I told you long ago, what good ending can ever come to a woman who enters a place like that? Hong’er, your heart was so kind. You should never have chased the wealth before your eyes…” She had watched Hongxiu grow up and knew all too well of her own son A-Shui’s infatuation with her. Long ago, she had already regarded Hongxiu as a future daughter-in-law. But Hongxiu had been gone for years, sending only occasional news, and Aunt Fan had worried about her for far too long.
And when they met again, it was under circumstances like these.
Her white hair looked unbearably desolate against the dark surroundings. Li Congjia slowly stepped several paces backward, trying to give her enough room to look properly at Hongxiu.
Someone suddenly walked up behind him. The man looked utterly dazed, staring blankly at the person on the ground as he murmured, “Hong’er… Hong’er… in the end, you finally agreed… to come home.”
Li Congjia recognized him. This was the man he had happened to encounter on the street, the one who had possessed the red-sandalwood box that once belonged to his elder brother, the Crown Prince. Li Congjia had promised him future advancement, and in return the man had sold the box to him.
A-Shui suddenly threw himself forward. Seeing his mother sobbing, he refused to believe any of it. “You’re all lying. She’s perfectly fine…” He seized Hongxiu’s hand and forced it against the ground, trying desperately to make her write something. “Hong’er! Do you remember the characters I taught you when we were young? Look… I’ll teach you… Look…”
Madness filled his eyes.
Li Congjia could not bear to see Hongxiu’s pale hand become smeared with dirt again. He went forward to lift her, but A-Shui charged at him like a desperate beast, seizing his collar and trying to wrench Hong’er back. The attendants immediately rushed forward and pulled him away. Restrained at one side, A-Shui laughed wildly and pointed at Li Congjia, hatred filling his eyes.
Curious faces appeared one after another from the shabby houses nearby. Shouting and fighting were hardly unusual in this lane, but nothing excited people more than watching someone else’s troubles. And one glance revealed an extraordinary spectacle. These were clearly people from some powerful household, every one of them dressed far beyond ordinary means.
Li Congjia lifted Hongxiu and spoke calmly. He was grieving, but he could not abandon all reason. What had happened could only be accepted. “Hongxiu’s death truly is connected to me.” At those words, the hatred in A-Shui’s eyes deepened. He struggled violently to break free, but remained unable to move. Piaopeng could only sigh. His master’s temperament simply would not allow him to explain more than necessary. He had thought Li Congjia had finally spoken in order to defend himself, only to discover that he remained exactly as he had always been. The affair was strange and impossible to explain cleanly, so Li Congjia simply took the blame upon himself and left it there.
The elderly woman suddenly lunged forward and seized the hem of his Mountains-and-Rivers Brocade. She asked only one thing. “Who are you?”
Li Congjia shook his head and remained silent.
Only when she came closer did she notice what was unusual about his eyes. Understanding dawned upon her. “You are Li Chongguang?”
Holding Hongxiu, Li Congjia walked further inside. “Miss Hongxiu’s final wish was to return to Green Willow Lane. Could you tell me where she originally lived?”
Aunt Fan struggled to her feet. She saw the peerless elegance of the man before her. She did not want to believe that such a person could have murdered Hong’er, yet he had plainly neither denied nor confirmed the accusation. She could still smell the faint fragrance surrounding him. People of such status were supposed to carry themselves with arrogant satisfaction, were they not? Yet he had personally brought Hong’er home, and plainly, he was different.
Not even all that brocade could conceal his quiet loneliness.
White hair scattered in the wind as Aunt Fan led them toward the house that had long since been sealed shut.
It was squeezed into the next narrow turn of the lane. Though it had two stories, it was unusually low. No one had cared for it in years, and insect webs covered the eaves. The little courtyard was ruined, its wooden fence broken and decayed.
Hongxiu had grown up here. Li Congjia understood now why she had resisted remembering this place afterward. Perhaps he could never truly share what she had felt, but he could still understand it.
A woman as proud and ambitious as Hongxiu should never have had to live in a place like this. Yet after she truly left it, she could no longer allow herself even to miss it. In the end, it was not disgust and not contempt. She simply could no longer return.
She had lost herself and could no longer recognize the road home.
A plum tree happened to stand beside the door.
Li Congjia found it strange that such a damp and humble place could still contain a flowering tree, much less one so elegant. Aunt Fan’s lips trembled as she explained that the plum tree had been left by Hongxiu’s family many years ago. After Hongxiu departed, it had never bloomed again.
Today, she had returned only for a final farewell.
Li Congjia ordered the earth around the plum tree dug open so Hongxiu could be buried there. Behind him came low, furious growls from A-Shui, who had been restrained the entire way and forbidden to move recklessly.
A-Shui was shattered with grief, his eyes full of tears. Aunt Fan suffered no less than her son, yet she was someone who had survived the bitterness of ordinary life and had seen enough separation and death to retain some strength. She went over and commanded A-Shui to calm himself. “If you still want her to leave this world properly, then as a grown man, stop sniveling like a coward!”
Li Congjia suddenly felt profound respect for Aunt Fan.
He had never imagined that someone from a lane like this could possess such clarity and dignity. He had even prepared himself to endure ugly insults and countless other things he could not predict.
Yet this white-haired woman still stood with tears in her eyes, her back straight, telling her son that he must not become a coward.
Admiration filled Li Congjia’s eyes. With complete sincerity, he told Aunt Fan, “I mean nothing else. I only wish to respect Miss Hongxiu’s wishes and return her here.”
Aunt Fan stood upright in the wind. She did not know whether this man truly deserved blame, but she understood Hong’er’s heart. She could not disappoint her. Neither could A-Shui.
The elderly woman stepped aside. Hong’er was still smiling within his arms, as though the woman had glimpsed some exquisitely beautiful scenery at the very end. She had been reluctant to leave, yet she had gone willingly.
“Did Hong’er herself ask you to bring her back?” Aunt Fan asked only this.
Li Congjia inclined his head without speaking.
“Then I believe Hong’er. If she was willing to let you come here, then she could not have hated you.”
Li Congjia smiled, his double pupils extraordinarily clear. “This matter truly is connected to me, but I would never have wished for Miss Hongxiu to come to such an end.”
A-Shui had completely collapsed. He could no longer hear anything. He merely thrashed his arms and legs wildly until the attendants pinned him against a wall with their swords.
“My apologies for the offense.” Li Congjia was referring to A-Shui.
Aunt Fan said nothing. She only watched as the earth beneath the plum tree was slowly opened.
Ignoring the Mountains-and-Rivers Brocade upon his body, Li Congjia insisted on bending down himself, intending to lower the woman in red into the earth. Aunt Fan suddenly stopped his hand. “Let me change her clothes.”
Li Congjia paused, then understood. “All right.”
Aunt Fan carried Hongxiu back into her own home and found for her the sort of clothing worn by ordinary girls throughout the lane. It was extremely plain, an old garment Aunt Fan herself had worn when she was young and had kept for many years.
Yet those were the clothes that should perhaps have marked Hongxiu’s rightful fate. Life here might have been poor, but at least joy and sorrow would never have belonged to her alone. Had she remained here, she would not have become Hongxiu, the phoenix-eyed beauty moving among the estates of the powerful. She might have known poverty and hunger, yet perhaps she could have peacefully grown old.
Li Congjia received Hongxiu, now dressed in plain clothing, and slowly prepared to see her away.
A-Shui held his breath and watched. Suddenly something fell with a sharp pa. Everyone present froze.
It was the hairpin from her head.
An ordinary hairpin, among the cheapest sold in the marketplace.
“Brother Shui, remember: when the day comes that you earn rank and reputation, come and marry me.” After speaking, the beautiful woman in red had raised her delicate hands and placed into her hair the pin he had secretly regarded as his betrothal gift.
She had smiled beautifully.
A-Shui’s vision went black. He collapsed unconscious.