Museum owner

Chapter Four

Lan Feiyu chatted with me for a few more minutes, then got up and went to the door. She called in the little maid from before, told her to take good care of me, and told me to rest more and to let this "Ami" know if I needed anything. Then she took her leave.

I lay back down on the bed, took the flower she had just put on my head, and examined it closely. I found that the flower was as big as a teacup, pink and lovely, and delicate and beautiful. Although it had no fragrance, just looking at it was enough to make me happy. I put it by my pillow, declined Ami's suggestion to eat and drink some more, and while admiring the flower, I drifted off to sleep again.

The sleep seemed incredibly long. When I opened my eyes, it was pitch black all around. I almost instinctively sat up in bed, looking around anxiously. After a while, remembering where I was, my tense body finally relaxed. Just as I was halfway through relaxing, a sleepy, soft voice suddenly came from nearby: "Miss Zhao is awake? Is there anything you want Ami to do?"

I patted my chest and laughed, "Ami, you scared me. Why are you sleeping in my room?"

Ami's voice was slightly clearer, but still weak: "Last night it was our keeper. You're feeling better now, so he asked me to keep you company."

She paused for a moment, then suddenly rushed to my bedside with great concern: "Are you feeling unwell? Should Ami go see the master?"

I privately guessed that the "master" she mentioned must be Lan Feiyu, and I thought the title was quite unique. After awkwardly asking Ami to find a chamber pot to solve the urgent problem, I calmed down and sat down on the edge of the bed again before asking the question.

Ami didn't immediately crawl back into her bunk. Instead, she stood at the foot of my bed and explained, "The curator insists that we call her that. Although she is the old king's daughter, she has no temper at all and is very kind to us."

That's really rare! I reflected on myself with shame. Sometimes when I'm in a bad mood, I act strangely and get angry at Aunt Xian and Sister Xu—the maids who help out at home. In this respect alone, I'm not as good as Lan Feiyu.

"Then, what kind of museum does she own?"

“The clinic and the monastery,” Ami replied, then sneezed three times in a row. At my insistence, she went back to her bed and continued, “The head of the clinic usually lives here. If you are really feeling unwell, Miss, don’t hold it in. Ami can go to the head of the clinic right away.”

She seemed very worried that I was putting on a brave face, and even blurted out these two sentences: "This was specifically instructed by the curator. Besides, you are a distinguished guest from the imperial court, so you certainly wouldn't be unable to pay, right?"

Um?

Money? I was speechless. Listening to Ami's serious tone, I felt that directly retorting with "I have never thought about money" would have a bit of the "Why don't they eat meat porridge?" flavor of Emperor Hui of Jin.

Scratching my head, I could only say, "I'm really fine, Ami, don't worry. Go to sleep, and we'll go see Master Lan again when it's light."

This suggestion was exactly what Ami wanted to hear. She gave a mumbled reply and then fell silent. After a short while, I could only hear her even breathing, so she must have fallen asleep.

I couldn't fall asleep easily, though my mind was not very clear, and my thoughts were muddled, like rice porridge. I tossed and turned for a long time, and every now and then I would pick up the flower from beside my pillow and bring it to my face. In the quiet night, I was lost in thought. The thumping of my heart pounded in my ears, and I was increasingly reminded of the Jade Rabbit pounding medicine in the Guanghan Palace above the bright moon.

She was certainly not like Chang'e, and could not even be considered a beauty. Her skin was dark, and her eyes were too big, which was really out of place on her small, oval face. In fact, if her act of adorning herself with real flowers were to happen in the capital, she would definitely be regarded as a woman from a poor family.

Yet, I find myself thinking that, much like the poppy-like flower she gave me, Lan Feiyu and the peerless beauty Yu Ji are strikingly similar. Both are women who, after the music and dance have ended, resolutely commit suicide with their swords drawn, refusing to accept a fate of drifting with the tide. I always think that she didn't die for love of Xiang Yu, but rather tragically foresaw her own destiny, choosing a resolute death rather than accepting a life of shattered jade rather than a life of unbroken tile.

Otherwise, with her talent and beauty, being relegated to the position of a concubine of Emperor Gaozu of Han (Liu Bang) would have meant nothing more than another "human pig."

Ugh, the "human pig" makes me nauseous, but it also brings me back to my senses. How did I end up thinking of Yu Ji when I thought of Lan Feiyu? If she is Yu Ji, then who should be Xiang Yu, the King of Chu? No, no, Xiang Yu is just a rough and tumble man with only the courage of a warrior, not even as good as the current emperor... The question is, who is worthy of her?

I suddenly felt my face burn, my chest tighten, and I felt suffocated, so I simply pulled the covers over my head and forced myself to sleep.

Every time my thoughts touched upon Bozhou, Lan Feiyu, or something like that, I forced myself to divert them, letting my mind wander to all sorts of things, from the heavens to the seas, until finally, without realizing it, I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up again, Ami was still standing by my bedside. Her radiant face and kind smile made me happy too.

Although she was young, she was efficient and helped me wash and change. She then went outside to bring me some congee and side dishes. After I invited her again and again, she sat down with a flattered expression and drank the congee with me.

I asked casually, "Where is your curator today?"

Ami stuck out her tongue because the porridge was too hot, and replied with a smile, "It seems like I'm checking accounts in the accounting office. Miss, your brother, the prince, lives in the palace. Would you like to tell the innkeeper to arrange for you to stay there?"

I was stunned for a moment. I had been sick for days and had neither heard nor seen my older brother come to see me. I guess he was trapped in the palace, fighting over him with the old king's two adopted sons, and couldn't get out.

No, I have to go save him!

With that thought, I sped up my porridge, finishing it in no time until my stomach was bulging. I took the handkerchief Ami had prepared, wiped my mouth, and said, "Okay, take me to see your master!"

Ami grinned and obediently sped up her eating, though this caused her to stick out her tongue even more frequently.

As expected, Lan Feiyu was in the clinic's accounting room. She sat alone at a large square table, concentrating intently and calmly, flipping through the accounts page by page, occasionally sketching with her pen, and sometimes writing furiously.

I stopped Ami from going forward to report, and tiptoed to a corner to quietly observe and appreciate Lan Feiyu's focused expression.

The young man who had just entered the accounting office carrying a stack of booklets noticed my presence. Before I could even gesture for him to be quiet, he had already questioned me: "Who are you? What are you doing here? Don't you know that the accounting office is a restricted area and outsiders are not allowed to enter at will?"

It's no wonder that person was so clueless. For the sake of convenience, the young lady went to great lengths to prepare mostly plain clothes for me, along with a few skirts of my own, which were the everyday clothes of a daughter from a humble family. As for jewelry and headwear, there were none at all!

The dress I am wearing today was sent by my master. It must be in the local style, red and yellow, very eye-catching. That person must have regarded me as a servant of this place.

At his question, Lan Feiyu looked up from the ledger and saw me hiding furtively in the corner. Her surprise instantly turned into a smile. She put down her pen, stood up, walked over to me, took my hand, and naturally touched my forehead, half-scoldingly saying, "Xi'er, you have the strength to come out and walk around? Why didn't you let Ami come and call me first?"

I looked at her, my ears ringing: Xi'er!

She didn't call me "Zhao Xi," but "Xi'er"! What should I say in response?

Rain... Rain?

I think I'm sick again. I have a fever all over my body and my palms are sweaty.