Chapter 4: Xie Shi Huai Ling
Another day or two passed like this.
Xie Huailing was like a plant transplanted to unfamiliar soil, quietly existing in the elegant world of the Golden Wind and Drizzle Pavilion. Her daily routine remained unchanged; she slept until noon each day and occasionally attended to someone depending on her mood. The number of maids serving her had increased from two to four, four graceful figures, each with their own unique beauty, appearing punctually each day with a bowl of dark brown medicine that exuded a soul-summoning aura. Xie Huailing's reaction was always the same: a glance, then averting her gaze, pretending not to have seen anything at all. If the maids persisted, she would shrink back into the covers, curling herself into a ball.
She felt it wasn't her fault. When the medicine was made, they should have considered that some people might not be able to drink it because it tasted so bad. Life is bitter enough as it is; why make it even more bitter for the tongue? It doesn't make sense.
Around the afternoon of the third day, a slightly older maid with a clever look in her eyes stopped Xie Huailing, holding a plate of freshly made pastries, before she could try to shut herself out of the world by covering her head with the blanket. The maid pointed to the pastries, then to the bowl of medicine that was still steaming hot, but seemed to have faded slightly. She then picked up a piece of pastry, carefully dipped it lightly into the rim of the medicine bowl, and quickly put it in her mouth, making a "delicious" expression while looking at Xie Huailing with bright eyes.
Xie Huailing understood. The improved version had added a sweetener, but was it any different from coating poison with sugar?
She was skeptical, almost like an experiment, and slowly picked up the bowl of medicine under the watchful, almost burning gaze of the maid.
Xie Huailing leaned closer. She had been careless; she had taken a sip.
That inexplicable, pungent aroma—a mixture of rotting roots, aged soil, and some indescribable sweet-smelling odor—slapped her hard like a punch, sending a wave of regret crashing to her head. The last vestiges of her liking for pastries vanished instantly, replaced by a nauseating, overwhelming surge of vomiting.
Xie Huailing felt so nauseous that she vomited, the dark brown liquid splashing onto the brocade quilt, looking extremely unsightly: "Ugh—"
The maid gasped and frantically tried to wipe Xie Huailing's mouth with a handkerchief, but Xie Huailing shoved the handkerchief away, recoiling sharply. Her eyes held only pure, physical repulsion. Pointing at the culprit—the bowl that had been placed back on the tray—Xie Huailing no longer cared about language: "Take it away!"
The maid clearly misunderstood her meaning, thinking that she had just choked, so she picked up the bowl of medicine again and carefully, with a coaxing tone, handed it forward again.
Xie Huailing tried her best to push away the bowl of medicine, but the maids seemed to have received some kind of order that she had to drink it. They were incredibly strong, and there was no way to communicate with them. The medicine was getting closer and closer.
She was even forced to throw off the covers, step barefoot onto the cold, smooth floor, and move away from the bed. The four maids immediately surrounded her again, trying to help her back to the bed while speaking anxiously.
That's enough.
Xie Huailing felt that either she or this bowl of medicine had to die today. Why should a doctor who could make such medicine waste time on medical skills? Go kill someone; he'd surely succeed.
She moved slowly, her gaze falling on the tightly closed carved wooden window a few steps away. Outside, the golden wind and fine rain blew, and the layers of eaves and brackets of the buildings revealed a massive and imposing silhouette in the twilight. She had been helped to look at it from the railing yesterday and knew that this layout was no ordinary place of wealth and luxury. It resembled some kind of behemoth entrenched in the center of a power vortex. The imposing, sickly man in the red robe that day was no ordinary person either.
But none of that matters right now; she needs to figure out a solution first.
Xie Huailing suddenly moved.
Taking advantage of their unpreparedness, she lightly slipped through the gap between the maids blocking her way, and in a few steps reached the window like a bird. Without even looking behind her, she raised her hand and forcefully pushed open the heavy wooden window with a "whoosh".
A cool evening breeze swept in, carrying the scents of the buildings and earth outside, which diluted the nauseating smell of medicine inside. Xie Huailing took a deep breath, feeling her churning stomach finally calm down a little.
Then, under the horrified gazes of her four maids, she braced herself against the windowsill and leaned half her body out of the window.
The wind lifted the hem of her thin undergarment and tousled her long, loose hair. She sat there, with a drop of several meters below her, the ground a hard, cold stone slab. The whole world seemed within reach, and she was about to jump out of the window.
Four maids burst into a synchronized scream, grabbing her sleeves as if afraid she too would vanish like a wisp of smoke. Their movements were unexpectedly swift, almost as fast as the adult men in Xie Huailing's memories, but the situation was dangerous, so they dared not exert force, fearing they might anger her.
The five of them were at an impasse. Xie Huailing pointed to the medicine bowl, but none of the maids understood what she meant. She felt a splitting headache coming on.
Just then, the curtain was lifted again.
Su Mengzhen stood at the door; there was probably some inexplicable fate between him and her when they drank medicine.
His black cloak was removed, and he had obviously just come in from outside, still carrying the chill of autumn. He held a book in his hand, and his eyes, which seemed to be burning with eerie light, suddenly froze when he saw the chaotic scene on the windowsill.
A chilling aura, more biting than the cold wind, swept over them. The light behind him was blocked by his tall figure, casting a deep shadow. For a moment, no one moved. The four maids, their faces filled with sorrow, stopped gasping abruptly.
Seemingly a little embarrassed, Xie Huailing glanced at the maid, then at Su Mengzhen. She tugged at the hand the maid was holding, but couldn't budge it. So she simply sat on the windowsill and raised her other hand to greet Su Mengzhen.
No one knew what Su Mengzhen was feeling. He didn't speak, not a single word.
He simply stepped inside. The maid hurriedly explained what had happened, but after listening, he ignored everyone and went straight to the medicine bowl. His slender fingers reached out and picked up the still slightly steaming medicine. The dark brown liquid sloshed in the plain white porcelain bowl, reflecting off his deep red cuffs like a pool of stagnant, murky water.
He held the bowl, turned around, and looked back at the windowsill.
The wind blew incessantly outside the window, causing Xie Huailing's long hair to flutter like a painting, her eyebrows like delicate ink. She shifted to a more comfortable position and gestured for Su Mengzhen to proceed.
Su Mengzhen met her gaze.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he ruthlessly flipped the bowl of dark brown medicine, along with the porcelain bowl, onto the smooth, hard floor, the sound of shattering echoing crisply in the deathly silent room.
Porcelain shards flew everywhere, and the dark brown medicine instantly spread a large, gruesome stain on the floor. The strong, nauseatingly bitter smell of the medicine actually dissipated somewhat, as if the whole room had caught its breath after the bowl of medicine broke.
A few shards of broken porcelain even flew towards the window, one of them narrowly grazing Xie Huailing's bare ankle dangling outside, thankfully without cutting her. She wiggled her toes slightly, glanced down, and raised an eyebrow at Su Mengzhen. Her gaze fell on the mess of medicine and broken porcelain, and a short thought flashed through her eyes—See, I told you this stuff should be thrown away.
Why didn't you do this earlier? Only the boss can understand human language. She jumped back to the ground, no longer looking at the menacing Buddha statue. She pushed aside the maids who were still in a daze about the current situation, and lightly sat back on the edge of the bed. She then lifted a corner of the brocade quilt that hadn't been stained by the medicine, and wrapped herself up again, leaving only her head and her unfocused eyes showing. It was as if the terrifying experience just now was just a slightly stronger breeze blowing through the room.
Su Mengzhen watched her series of actions, seeing neither lingering fear nor relief in them. He gave a very slight nod to the four maids who were trembling like leaves in the wind.
The maids, as if granted a pardon, immediately sprang into action, moving swiftly yet silently. The broken porcelain was carefully picked up, and the stains were wiped and covered with water and cloths. In less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, the messy floor was restored to its pristine state, leaving only a lingering bitter smell in the air.
The maids silently withdrew, leaving only the two people in the room.
The air was heavy, and the wind outside the window was still blowing, bringing a chill that deepened with the passing sunlight. Su Mengzhen walked to the wooden table and placed the book he was holding on it. The book was wrapped in dark cloth. He unwrapped the cloth to reveal the thread-bound book inside, its pages slightly yellowed, carrying the scent of ink and the aroma of old objects.
He picked up the book, opened it, walked to the bedside, and handed it to Xie Huailing.
Xie Huailing didn't take it, she just looked at him. Su Mengzhen placed the book on the quilt, and only then did Xie Huailing slowly reach out and pick up the book.
The pages were covered with densely packed characters of various shapes and forms. Some resembled winding insects and birds, others looked like they had been cleaved by a knife and axe, some were as intricate as flowers, and others were as simple as symbols. They were arranged and combined to form pages of completely unfamiliar "heavenly script." Xie Huailing's gaze swept over each page.
She guessed that Su Mengzhen wanted to use this book to find characters she might recognize. She thought, this person has a clear mind, but unfortunately, she couldn't understand him at all, just like listening to him speak.
Xie Huailing closed the book with little interest, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over the dark blue hard cover.
On the cover, six large, square characters are written in thick ink; this is the book title.
Xie Huailing's eyes widened in that instant.
Not insects or birds, not symbols, but square and upright, horizontal and vertical lines—the structure, strokes, and spacing… infinitely approaching the existence known as "Chinese characters" deep in her memory. Although the strokes appear more archaic, with hard edges unpolished by time, lacking the rounded and smooth style passed down through generations, the inherent charm, the pictographic and ideographic essence…
It was like a bolt of lightning tearing through the sky in the darkness, flashing through her mind in a split second. She recalled the theme of time travel once again; the boundaries between the past and the present were brutally torn apart by these six words, and then forcibly connected and stitched together by these same six words.
Xie Huailing lowered his eyes, concealing the turbulent emotions within them. The misty fog enveloped the lake once more, and the lightning from before was merely an illusion.
She raised her fingertips and gently tapped the six square characters on the cover.
Su Mengzhen's gaze remained fixed on her face. A slight thought crossed his mind, and he understood immediately. She couldn't understand those strange characters, but she recognized the character for "official."
So, who is she?
Without the slightest hesitation, Su Mengzhen turned and walked to the door, lifted the curtain, and gave an order.
Soon, the curtain was lifted again, and a maid entered carrying a tray with all the writing implements on it. After placing the items down, the maid immediately bowed and withdrew, not daring to linger.
Su Mengzhen returned to his desk and rolled up his sleeves. The ink stick made a soft grinding sound in the inkstone, and soon a pool of ink was ready.
The snow-white Xuan paper was spread out, the brush tip touched the paper, and the ink spread into a line of strong, wiry characters:
What is the girl's name?
He turned the paper toward Xie Huailing.
Xie Huailing stared at the line of text. She remained silent for a moment. This silence wasn't hesitation, but rather a brief pause.
Her name? That wasn't what she cared about. Her name was Xie Huailing, and in this unfamiliar time and space, who else cared besides herself? What she cared about was...
Xie Huailing slowly got off the bed and walked to the desk.
This was a clear, conflicted expression, and it was her first expression. Before Su Mengzhen could finish guessing, she picked up her pen.
It felt heavy in her hand, the pen barrel was smooth and slightly cool, and the nib was incredibly soft, a difference from the hard-pen or touchscreen input methods she was used to, as if separated by centuries.
She tried to imitate Su Mengzhen's pen-holding posture, clumsily gripping the pen with her fingers, dipping it in ink, but absorbing too much ink, causing the pen tip to droop heavily, and her wrist was stiff, her fingers completely unresponsive.
The result is that the soft pen tip becomes a slippery, live fish, dragging an uncontrolled ink stain on the paper, which then turns into a huge, murky black spot.
Xie Huailing's face instantly darkened.
It wasn't annoyance, nor shame. It was pure frustration, the frustration of having one's shortcomings exposed.
She knew it would be like this. Is it right to make someone with bad handwriting write?
Xie Huailing lost control for a moment, slamming the ink-soaked brush tip hard onto the rice paper. With a muffled thud, several drops of ink splashed onto her inner sleeve, the table, and the paper, a shocking sight.
Without even glancing at the mess of ink stains, she expressionlessly picked up the brush, the bristles of which were already crooked and disheveled from being knocked.
She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slightly, as if she were smoothing her hair, and put pen to paper again. This time, she abandoned all techniques and structures—though she never really had any—and treated the pen purely as an ink-soaked stick, gripping it tightly with her wrist as if carving a monument, fiercely drawing three huge, crooked symbols on the paper.
That cannot be called a character at all. The horizontal strokes are not horizontal, the vertical strokes are not vertical, and the strokes are tangled and intertwined. It is beyond the comprehension of ancient people who seriously studied characters. It can only be called "ghostly scribbles", which is even more unsightly than a child's doodles.
After Xie Huailing finished drawing, she casually tossed the pen she had "used up" back into the tray with a soft "tap." She didn't even look at her "masterpiece," her gaze returning to its blank state, as if her earlier outburst was just an illusion. She reverted to her indifferent state, even slightly turning her head away, refusing to give her masterpiece a second glance.
Su Mengzhen was left with a furrowed brow and a rare look of confusion in her eyes. What...is this really the character for "official"?
However, just when he was about to give up trying to identify it, an almost intuitive flash of inspiration suddenly appeared in his mind, and the well-read owner of the Golden Wind and Fine Rain Pavilion still recognized it.
He picked up his brush, the tip landing on the blank Xuan paper beside Xie Huailing's three huge ink blots. Three characters, accompanied by his unique coldness, leaped clearly onto the paper, the ink flowing and penetrating the back of the paper:
Xie Huailing.
After writing, he looked up, and Xie Huailing's gaze finally returned from somewhere to the three words. She looked at them, then nodded slightly, the movement so small it seemed she was just dozing off.
It's her.
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