As dusk settled over the courtyard paved with bluestone bricks, the copper bells on the eaves jingled softly in the evening breeze.
Jiang Huaiyu clutched the bamboo pattern on her sleeve, gazing at the figure three steps away wrapped in a dark official robe. Her embroidered shoes paused on the mottled stone steps before she finally stopped.
“Okay, I’ll listen to you.” As she lowered her eyes, the gold filigree hairpin swayed gently by her ear.
The veins on the back of Bai Yujing's hand, which was gripping the pillar, bulged. His chin was covered in stubble, and a few ink stains stained the collar of his dark blue official robe, yet his voice was extremely soft: "These past few days... has everything been alright at home?"
"Rest assured, my husband." Jiang Huaiyu unconsciously twisted the handkerchief between her fingers, the scent of sandalwood mingling with the burning wormwood in the courtyard filling the air. "I have instructed all the courtyards to close their gates, and even the cleaning maids are not allowed to leave." Suddenly remembering something, her eyes softened, "Zihan woke up this morning clutching a rattle-drum, wanting her father..."
Before he could finish speaking, Bai Yujing abruptly took half a step back, his official boot crushing a withered leaf. His Adam's apple bobbed, his voice terribly hoarse: "Don't let her touch me in the slightest." Then he softened his tone, "I saw her through the window from afar... has she trimmed the new baby hairs at her temples?"
Looking at the dark circles under her husband's eyes, Jiang Huaiyu suddenly recalled the scene a month ago when the floods first broke out. She remembered how he had awkwardly hummed lullabies to lull a crying baby to sleep in the pouring rain. Her eyes welled up, but she only smiled and said, "The other day, the wet nurse used gold scissors to trim it; it looks like a newly blooming magnolia."
Bai Yujing chuckled softly at his words, startling the birds perched under the eaves. He reached for the purse at his waist—a purse embroidered by his wife with a double lotus pattern for Zihan's full-moon celebration—but instead touched a bulging medicine pouch. His smile froze instantly: "The key to the granary is in the third compartment of the sandalwood box in the study. If... if the plague spreads, you can escape with Zihan through the west gate..."
"Yujing!" Jiang Huaiyu suddenly interrupted, her skirt brushing against the newly sprouted ferns on the steps. Her voice trembled as she looked at the dark brown medicine stains on the hem of her husband's official robe. "Do you know how many thin coffins were carried out on Zhuque Street the other day? And those doctors' face towels, fumigated with mugwort—did you really wear them all the time?"
The sound of a night watchman's clapper echoed in the twilight, mingled with the distant coughs. Bai Yujing suddenly coughed violently, a few drops of scarlet blood seeping through his fingers. He quickly hid his hands behind his back and said in a hoarse voice, "The new prescription I tried yesterday, using three qian of Coptis chinensis and honeysuckle..."
Before she could finish speaking, Jiang Huaiyu grabbed her sleeve. The woman, usually so meticulous about etiquette, now had disheveled hair, and her nails, painted with balsam flowers, dug deeply into the cloud-patterned cuff of his sleeve: "If those medicines were effective, how could Physician Chen have died in the south city clinic? Do you think I don't know how many corpses have been carried out of the governor's mansion these past few days?"
Bai Yujing swayed slightly. He gazed at the pearl hairpin trembling in his wife's hair, recalling the scene three years ago on their wedding night when he had personally placed it in her hair. At that time, the red candles were lit, and she said she wanted to spend this misty Jiangnan with him.
“Huaiyu…” He suddenly reached out, but stopped abruptly before touching her sleeve. His fingertips hovered in mid-air, still damp with ink and the scent of medicine. “There are still seven thousand shi of millet in the Yongji granary east of the city. I’ve ordered it to be mixed with lime and sealed. If things get out of control, you…”
Jiang Huaiyu suddenly raised her hand, her slender, white fingertips lightly touching his lips. This inappropriate gesture startled both of them, as the evening breeze swept across them, carrying the ashes of burning mugwort.
"Does Yujing know that Zihan called for someone yesterday?" Her eyes were glistening with tears, but a smile played on her lips. "She called out 'Father' to the official hat you left behind, and no matter how her wet nurse tried to coax her, she wouldn't sleep, insisting on holding that black gauze hat."
Bai Yujing abruptly turned his back, his official robes billowing in the wind. He gazed at the lanterns gradually lighting up outside the courtyard wall, a whimper like that of a trapped beast escaping his throat. In the distance came the rapid sound of horses' hooves; the yamen runners were coming to urge him on again.
"Kiss her for me...kiss her for me." He strode toward the moon gate, his dark robes sweeping away a few withering peonies. "If I do not return in five days..." His voice trailed off into the rising night mist, startling the frogs croaking beneath the withered leaves of the lotus pond.
Jiang Huaiyu stood there, watching her husband's figure disappear into the twilight.
Honeysuckle vines quietly climbed up the hem of her skirt from under the stone steps, as if trying to hold onto this last bit of warmth.
...
When the third watchman's clapper sounded, Jiang Huaiyu was suddenly awakened from a nightmare. Cold sweat soaked through her silk nightgown, and she subconsciously touched her slightly protruding belly—where lay a secret unknown even to her personal maid.
A strong smell of mugwort smoke drifted in from outside the window, mixed with a faint stench of decay.
"Madam!" The maid Yingxiang stumbled in, her hair still smudged with ashes from the stove. "Two people coughing up blood were carried out from the west wing!"
Jiang Huaiyu suddenly stood up, and the jade bracelet on her wrist hit the dressing table and shattered in two.
She remembered the sandalwood box Bai Yujing had mentioned, and her fingertips dug deeply into her palms: "Bring me my brocade-embroidered robe, and tell Granny Zhang to take Zihan to the cellar."
As she passed through the covered walkway, she caught a glimpse of a blue-curtained carriage parked at the side gate. A corner of the curtain was lifted by the wind, revealing half a face veiled in plain gauze—it was Madam Deng from the Jishetang Pharmacy in the south of the city. The woman nodded slightly to her, and an indigo cloth bag slid out from her sleeve.
"This is what the master clutched when he vomited blood yesterday," said Madam Deng, her voice like it had been dipped in ice water. The cloth bundle she handed over reeked of pungent medicine. "He said if he didn't survive five days, he wanted you to take this to see the Langya Wang clan's fleet."
Jiang Huaiyu's hand, which was untying the cloth bundle, trembled violently. The blood-stained Xuan paper was densely covered with medical records, and the last line of vermilion annotations was written with force that penetrated the back of the paper: "Death is certain in seven days." She suddenly bent over and dry heaved, only to see small spots of scarlet blood spreading on the handkerchief.
That night, the governor's mansion was brightly lit. Jiang Huaiyu stood under the eaves, watching the servants nail the doors and windows of the west courtyard shut with wooden boards. Cries pierced the rain, and she suddenly remembered the sound of Bai Yujing's Adam's apple bobbing when he mentioned the seven thousand shi of millet in Yongji Granary.
"Open the warehouse." She removed the jade pendant that symbolized her status as the mistress of the house. "Yingxiang, fetch my dowry list."
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