Zhu Qingyu and Gu Zhao leaned against the doorway of the inner chamber of the bedchamber, their faces close together in whispered intimacy. There were plenty of matrons going about their daytime duties, coming and going.
A matron was about to bring in the freshly washed clothes, one foot already stepping into the bedchamber, when Vice Minister Gu shot her a glare full of bitter resentment. The matron gasped, stumbled backward, and nearly fell with an "Oof!"
Zhu Qingyu still had a few words she wanted to say to Gu Zhao, and she couldn't bear to watch him bully the matron like that. She took his hand and led him into the inner chamber, closing the door behind them.
She looked up, about to speak, but Gu Zhao seemed to misunderstand her intent. He pressed her back against the door panel and kissed her.
Zhu Qingyu was afraid of touching his wounds, so she didn't dare move him. She opened her mouth to speak, but Gu Zhao misread that even more, his kiss turning deeper and fiercer.
These past few days, despite their mutual feelings being known, Zhu Qingyu had been careful not to engage in overly intense physical contact with Gu Zhao, mainly because she feared that if he got too excited, he might aggravate his injuries.
But he was about to leave now.
Gu Zhao said he wanted to return to convince the Empress Dowager, but from Zhu Qingyu's impressions of Her Highness over the few times they'd interacted, the woman was someone of strong will.
A strong-willed person has a tough disposition—the strength of it lies in holding firm to one's own convictions and being hard to sway; the weakness is also that same immovability.
So in Zhu Qingyu's heart, she wasn't optimistic about the outcome of Gu Zhao's trip back to the capital.
After today's parting, she would be in Jiangning, and he in the capital—separated by a thousand miles, with no telling when they might meet again.
In the modern world, long-distance relationships usually ended in parting; how much more so in their situation? They didn't even have a telephone. With no contact over a long period, as time went on, one couldn't say what the future would bring or whether they might drift apart.
Zhu Qingyu suddenly felt a pang of melancholy. She didn't push Gu Zhao away; instead, she reached out, slid her arm from under his, and gently wrapped it around his back, holding him.
Suddenly embraced and met with a receptive response, Gu Zhao froze.
Between them, it was always he who demanded, and she who gave sparingly. For Zhu Qingyu to be so forward today was something Gu Zhao wouldn't have dared to dream of before.
When two hearts are in tune, even a kiss seems more intoxicating than their earlier aggressive claiming.
Because of her initiative, Gu Zhao slowed down instead, savoring every shudder that ran through his body and soul because of her responsive gesture.
He didn't want to leave.
He wanted far more than what he had now—deeper, more thorough, more complete.
Countless vivid and alluring images surfaced in his mind, tempting him to demand more.
But now, his top priority was to convince the Empress Dowager so that he could be with Qingyu openly and legitimately.
This brief separation was necessary so that they might be together for the long years ahead. He had to go.
Before he lost control of himself any further, Gu Zhao finally stopped, gasping for breath, and said:
"I have to go."
Zhu Qingyu, her head still addled from his kisses, tugged at his sleeve and said in a soft, languid voice:
"Wait. Let me give you a few warnings. Your wounds aren't fully healed yet. When you go back, take the carriage—don't ride a fast horse. And no galloping through the night, whatever you do."
Hearing her voice so rarely soft and tender, Gu Zhao's heart stirred and almost melted. He pressed his cheek against hers, planted another kiss, and murmured stickily:
"I have warnings for you too. Though your patients matter, you must still eat your meals on time and go to bed early."
The reluctant farewell between Lord Zhu and Vice Minister Gu kept dragging on and on, full of endless affection. They accomplished nothing substantive, spoke no important words, going back and forth with one caution after another, one tug of sleeve, one pull of sleeve, somehow wasting a great deal of time.
Truly, fearing that if he didn't leave soon Gu Zhao would miss the inn and end up sleeping in the wilderness, it wasn't until just before noon that Zhu Qingyu finally managed to see him off at the camp gates.
Gu Zhao departed just as lightly as he had arrived—two carriages, a few guards, heading back to the capital.
Since Zhu Qingyu had told him not to ride a horse, and to avoid worrying her, Gu Zhao obediently sat inside the carriage, leaning out of the window, waving at Zhu Qingyu by the camp gate again and again, until she grew smaller and finally vanished from sight.
Zhu Qingyu stood at the camp gate, watching Gu Zhao's carriage gradually fade into the distance, until it disappeared on the road leading home.
...
Spring arrived, the season when travelers set forth again.
In early February, Zhu Qingyu saw Gu Zhao off.
In mid-February, Xie Ze and his mother also departed for the capital, preparing to arrange the marriage with the Wen family.
On the last day of February, in the pale light of dawn, Zhu Qingyu rose, lifted the tablet from her desk on which every number had long turned to zero, and prepared to set out for Jiangning to take up her post.
The Eldest Grand Princess was a practical woman. Not only had she secured an official post for Zhu Qingyu, but she had also provided travel funds, luggage for the journey, an official robe of the third rank, and an escort of guards.
So, for this trip to Jiangning, Zhu Qingyu brought quite a number of people and belongings—besides the doctors from the Zhu Family Medical Hall, Zhu Dashan, the imperial guards who had accompanied Su Mu and the others to the northern frontier and had yet to leave, as well as the guards specially arranged by the Eldest Grand Princess. Together with the carts carrying the luggage, there were nearly thirty people and over a dozen vehicles—indeed, a huge convoy.
Since all her acquaintances had departed, and she had already said goodbye to the Eldest Grand Princess's family the day before, Zhu Qingyu had planned to slip away quietly early in the morning.
But when she pushed open the camp gates, on both sides of the road were gathered dense crowds of people holding flowers, and in the warm spring breeze, the very air was fragrant with the sweetness of blossoms.
The Eldest Grand Princess and Grand General Wen's family were there too. It startled Zhu Qingyu.
Hadn't they already said their goodbyes yesterday?
Why were they holding a farewell ceremony? Please don't have children come up handing flowers—that would be too awkward.
Of course, what one fears most is precisely what happens. The pair of siblings who had first recovered and left the camp ran up, each holding a bunch of apricot blossoms, thrusting them into Zhu Qingyu's arms, and said:
"Lord Zhu, a safe journey."
Someone on the roadside also called out:
"Lord Zhu, a safe road."
Another voice chimed in:
"Lord Zhu, safety and good fortune."
Zhu Qingyu felt flustered by the crowd's affection, hastily taking the flowers and offering her thanks. Then she looked over at the Eldest Grand Princess and said with a smile:
"Your Highness, what is this? I was merely doing my duty. Surely all this isn't necessary."
The Eldest Grand Princess also laughed:
"This wasn't arranged by me, I assure you. The people have come to see you off of their own accord. This is everyone's heartfelt gesture. Go on—safe journey, Lord Zhu."
Zhu Qingyu climbed into the carriage clutching the flowers, opened the window, and the convoy meandered out of the city.
On both sides of the road outside the window, densely packed people waved goodbye to her.
There were her former patients—every one of them she had treated and sent back out of the camp whole and healthy.
There were the families of her patients—every one of them had come to collect a loved one in both laughter and tears.
There were also those she had never met, strangers to her, yet when they waved to her, they did so with such fervor and excitement.
The crowd that came to see her off stretched all the way from within the city to the outskirts, seeming to extend beyond sight.
The sun rose gradually, casting its golden light upon the southbound procession, gleaming like the radiance of Buddha himself. The glow fell upon a woman seated by the window, holding a bouquet and smiling—she appeared as serene as a bodhisattva cradling a vase of pure nectar.
Amid the farewells of the crowd, in the most beautiful spring morning light of the northern frontier, Zhu Qingyu basked in that dazzling brilliance, carrying with her the warmest blessings of the send-off, and departed from Dingsheng Pass, setting forth on a new journey.
