Shi Huai walked over and sat down on the swing. He gave a gentle push against the ground with his toes, and the swing began to sway slowly.
Shi Youlan stood beside him, watching.
The scarlet robe billowed and fell in the wind, like a fiery phoenix flying through the night.
“Little Brother, I won’t let anyone bully you from now on. No one.”
Shi Youlan’s voice was not loud, but the earnestness in it made Shi Huai’s hand pause on the rope.
He raised his head and looked at her unusually serious face. The corners of his lips lifted slightly.
“Second Sister, you can’t even protect yourself, yet you want to protect me?”
Shi Youlan was struck speechless. Her face flushed bright red.
Shi Huai rose from the swing and dusted off the hem of his robe. “Come on. It’s chilly outside. We’ll talk when we get back.”
The two of them crossed the garden, walked down the long corridor, and headed toward Shou’an Hall.
Qinghe had already returned ahead of them.
Nanny Zhou was standing before the Buddhist shrine, a string of prayer beads in her hands as she murmured prayers under her breath.
At the sound of footsteps, she turned around. When she saw Shi Huai standing in the doorway in his scarlet robe, the prayer beads nearly slipped from her hand.
“Young Master is back? Are you hungry? There’s still some porridge warming in the kitchen. I’ll serve you a bowl.”
Nanny Zhou started toward the kitchen, but Shi Huai caught her by the arm.
“Nanny Zhou, I’m not hungry. Don’t trouble yourself. Sit down and rest.”
He pressed her into a chair. She clutched the prayer beads tightly, her lips trembling several times. Her eyes reddened, but no tears fell.
“Grand Madam must be very pleased in the afterlife. The thing she was most worried about when she passed was you. Now that you’ve placed third in the palace examination, she can rest in peace beneath the Nine Springs.”
Shi Huai sat down across from her and reached out to adjust the nearly extinguished lamp on the table, coaxing the flame brighter.
The flame danced, and its orange-red light fell across his face, illuminating every detail.
“Nanny Zhou, how long have you been with my grandmother?”
Nanny Zhou froze for a moment, then thought about it.
“More than thirty years. I began serving Grand Madam when she married into the marquis’s residence. I was only fifteen at the time and knew nothing of the world. Grand Madam taught me everything, little by little.”
“Then what do you think was Grand Madam’s greatest regret in life?”
Nanny Zhou’s fingers suddenly tightened around the prayer beads.
She looked at Shi Huai’s eyes, which seemed unusually deep in the candlelight. Her lips moved several times before she finally spoke.
“Grand Madam’s greatest regret was that she couldn’t protect Second Master—that is, your second uncle.”
Her voice was very low, as if she feared someone might be listening through the walls.
“Back then, the old marquis abandoned Second Master’s birth mother, then brought Second Master back and entrusted him to Grand Madam to raise. Grand Madam felt guilty and wanted to treat him well.”
“But everyone in the household was watching. She didn’t dare to be too good to him, afraid that people would gossip or that the old marquis would be displeased. She could only care for him in secret.”
“Second Master suffered so many grievances as a child. Grand Madam saw every one of them, but there was nothing she could do.”
Shi Huai leaned back in his chair, gazing at the beam overhead, blackened by years of candle smoke.
“So when Grand Madam said on her deathbed that she owed me, she was really speaking of what she owed Second Uncle. She was repaying a debt on behalf of the old marquis.”
Nanny Zhou said nothing. She lowered her head and stared at the string of prayer beads, polished smooth and glossy from years of handling.
Shi Huai stood and straightened his collar. “Nanny Zhou, you should get some rest. You’ll have plenty to do tomorrow.”
Nanny Zhou nodded and rose from her chair. She walked to the Buddhist shrine, lit another stick of incense, and bowed three times before the statue.
When she straightened, she murmured, “Grand Madam, please watch over us.”
Her voice was so soft that it seemed a breeze might scatter it.
When Shi Huai returned to the study, Tangerine was crouched on top of the writing desk.
At the sound of footsteps, it lifted its head and glanced at Shi Huai before letting out a soft, milky-sounding meow.
Shi Huai walked over and sat in the chair, then flicked it lightly on the head.
“You certainly know how to pick a spot. You’ve made my desk smell.”
Tangerine narrowed its eyes from the flick. Rather than run away, it pushed its head into his palm, a deep purr rumbling in its throat.
Shi Huai withdrew his hand, his mind turning over everything Shi Yuanping had said.
“When she left, she was already gone the day you were taken away.”
That was what Shi Yuanping had said about the birth mother Shi Huai had never met—the woman who had held him in her arms during her confinement and tried to strangle him.
She had given him life, yet had also wanted to take it away.
Shi Huai could not explain what he felt toward that woman.
Hatred?
It did not quite seem like hatred.
A newborn could not see, and because of that, he had never even seen her face.
To hate someone so vaguely felt too insubstantial.
The next morning, Shi Huai was awakened by the sound of sword practice in the courtyard.
Shi Yuanzhi was wearing a short, coarse jacket and wielding an iron sword as he went through the forms, one move at a time.
His swordsmanship could not be called impressive. What it lacked in skill, it made up for in presence. Every movement was proper and precise—clearly the result of several years of formal instruction under a master.
Shi Huai stood in the doorway and watched him for a while. Shi Yuanzhi brought his sword to a stop and turned to look at him, his forehead covered in sweat.
“Did I wake you?”
“No. It was time for me to get up anyway.” Shi Huai walked to the stone table in the courtyard and sat down. Qinghe came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of hot porridge and set it before him.
Shi Yuanzhi returned the sword to its rack, then came over and sat across from him, his gaze settling on Shi Huai’s face.
“Did you sleep poorly last night? You have dark circles under your eyes.”
“It was all right. I had a dream.”
Shi Huai lifted the bowl and took a sip. Nanny Zhou had cooked the porridge. It was so thick a chopstick could stand upright in it, and the fragrance of rice mingled with the sweetness of red dates across his tongue.
Shi Yuanzhi watched him eat. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, then swallowed the words.
He picked up his own bowl and took a sip. The porridge was scalding, and he frowned before setting the bowl down. He waited a while before picking it up again.
“What do you have planned for today?”
“I’m going to the Imperial College to pay my respects to the teachers, and to bring the rest of my things home.” Shi Huai finished the last mouthful of porridge and wiped his lips with a handkerchief.
Shi Yuanzhi nodded. “You should. Those teachers have taught you for so many years. Whether out of sentiment or reason, you ought to go.”
He fell silent again, as though carefully considering his words. At last, he forced out, “Should I have someone prepare some gifts for you?”
“No need. I’ve prepared them myself.” Shi Huai rose, straightened his collar, and headed toward the study.
Shi Yuanzhi remained seated at the stone table, watching his back disappear through the study door. The porridge in his bowl had gone cold, yet he did not notice.
Qinghe passed by carrying the empty bowls. Seeing him lost in thought, she paused, then lowered her head and hurried away without a word.
When Shi Huai came out of the study, he was carrying a cloth bundle containing several books and a Duan inkstone.
They were all things he had picked up some time ago.
Qinghe had already gathered the rest of his belongings and was waiting at the entrance to Shou’an Hall with a bundle in her hands.
Tangerine was crouched at her feet, licking its paws. When it saw Shi Huai come out, it raised its head and meowed.
“We’re not bringing Tangerine. The last time you took it to the Imperial College, it peed in front of the teachers and soaked Mr. Lu’s lesson plans.”
