Chapter 11
As dawn broke, the fragrance of medicine in Shuyu Courtyard was somewhat diluted by the morning breeze.
Su Zhelan was dressed neatly and sat in a wheelchair, her long hair casually tied up with a few strands hanging over her shoulders.
He was wearing a light blue silk shirt that Su Yan had recently bought for him. The soft and comfortable fabric made him look even thinner, with only a few very faint silver cloud patterns embroidered on the collar and cuffs.
The blindfold ribbon was replaced with a softer gauze, which filtered in the morning light, casting soft dappled patterns on his knees. The gauze was loosely tied behind his head, with the hanging ends draped over his shoulders, becoming a unique embellishment to his simple clothes.
His sickly yet beautiful appearance was his best camouflage.
The curtain was lifted, and Sheng Xuan burst in. He had changed into a begonia-red robe with gold cloud patterns, and a black leather belt around his waist. The gold threads shone brightly in the morning light, making the young man look spirited and dashing.
"Ze Lan! Are you ready? The temple fair starts early, if you go late, all the good stuff will be gone..."
Before he finished speaking, he saw Xiao Qiyun standing beside the wheelchair, wearing an ordinary-looking dark blue brocade robe with dark cloud patterns, the fabric of which subtly flowed with an understated luster. Only a warm and flawless white jade pendant hung at his waist. He had no extra ornaments, but his calm demeanor made him appear more precious than Shengxuan's gorgeous clothes.
Su Yan, with a stern face, instructed Xiao Qiyun: "...Remember to use the eye drops every half hour, and apply a warm, damp cloth to the area around your eyes before instilling them..."
"Shengxuan! Come here!" Su Yan, with his sharp eyes, immediately pulled the excited Shengxuan over as well.
"Listen up, you too! Push the wheelchair carefully, and detour around any potholes on the stone path! If Zhelan even flinches from the jolting, I'll prick your Yongquan acupoint with golden needles when we get back! And that fireworks, ten zhang! Not an inch less! If the sulfur ash chokes him, I'll use you to test my newly prepared Coptis chinensis mouthwash!"
Sheng Xuan shrank back after being scolded, but still said defiantly, "I know, I know! Mr. Su, you can rest assured! I promise to protect him even more thoroughly than the rare books from the previous dynasty in the Imperial Study!"
As he spoke, he moved closer to the wheelchair and pulled a small oil paper packet from his sleeve pocket like a treasure: "Look! Freshly baked sesame sugar cakes, still warm! Here, have a little something to tide you over, there's a long queue for food at the temple fair." He deliberately held the sugar cakes to Su Zhelan's lips, his fingers almost touching them.
Xiao Qiyun's gaze lingered for a moment on Sheng Xuan's fingers, which were holding a sugar cake and almost touching Su Zhelan's lips. The coldness in that instant was like ice shards. He then naturally continued the conversation: "Ready, we can set off."
He bent down and gently smoothed the wrinkles in Su Zhelan's fox fur coat at her knees with his fingertips. His movements were gentle, yet carried an unmistakable sense of control—he wanted to protect every inch of Su Zhelan under his wings. He also carefully checked whether the misty gauze was securely fastened to ensure that the strong light would not shine directly on her.
Seeing this, Sheng Xuan quickly went around to the back of the wheelchair, gripped the armrests with both hands, and looked ready to pounce. They were secretly competing with each other, their grips so strong that they almost crushed the armrests.
After the three of them finished getting ready, Sheng Xuan steadily pushed the wheelchair out the door and stopped it in the courtyard bathed in morning light. Su Zhelan tilted her head slightly, and the tip of her nose, hidden beneath the white veil, seemed to smell the lively and vibrant atmosphere of the temple fair wafting from afar.
He knew that this temple fair was not only for fun, but also a good opportunity for him to observe Sheng Xuan and Xiao Qiyun's bottom line.
Su Yan leaned against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, his gaze sweeping over the three young men in front of him, who were different in style but equally outstanding. Su Zhelan's cold fragility was wrapped in a moon-white silk robe, Sheng Xuan's flamboyant passion was like a crabapple in full bloom, and Xiao Qiyun's calm and noble demeanor was like jade hidden in the deep sea.
He clicked his tongue, shook his head, and sighed, "Tsk tsk, youth is truly wonderful. Like freshly picked medicinal herbs, so fresh and vibrant, just looking at them makes one... cough, feel energetic!"
Gu Linzhao was already standing beside him at some point, holding a small cloth bag for coins. Hearing this, he glanced at Su Yan and stuffed the bag into his hand: "Since you feel energetic, why just 'watch' here? It's rare to have such a lively day, and there's nothing important at the General's Mansion, so let's go out for a stroll."
His voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable air of authority. He casually straightened Su Yan's collar, which had become askew from his impassioned reprimand.
Su Yan squeezed the small cloth bag in his hand, looking at the backs of the three young people bathed in the morning light in front of him, and then at Gu Linzhao beside him with a calm expression. The last bit of unease in his eyes was finally replaced by a smile.
He cleared his throat and called out to the backs of the three people who had already walked some distance away: "Before sunset! Remember to come back before sunset—!"
As the wheelchair rolled along the bluestone path in the back alley of the General's Mansion, the morning mist had not yet dissipated, and the air was already filled with the lively atmosphere unique to temple fairs, a mixture of the aroma of caramelized sugar, fried pastries, and the faint scent of sandalwood.
Sheng Xuan pushed the wheelchair, her steps so light she almost jumped, her voice clearer than a bird crowing on a branch:
"Zhelan! Xiao Qiyun! You have no idea, the sugar paintings at that old shop in Dongshikou are absolutely amazing!" As he spoke, he couldn't help but let go of one hand to gesture, causing his wheelchair to sway slightly. "Last year at the temple fair, that old master blew a coiled dragon for me, every single whisker was clearly visible, and the eyes looked like they were alive! This year, let's go there first and have him blew you... a Qilin riding the clouds! Guaranteed to be impressive!"
Su Zhelan was infected by his excitement; a clear smile curved her lips beneath the veil, and her voice carried a long-lost lightness: "Great, a Qilin is great. What happened to the dragon we got last year?"
Following Sheng Xuan's train of thought, she deliberately encouraged him to speak more enthusiastically, while keeping an eye on Xiao Qiyun's reaction out of the corner of her eye.
"And then?" Sheng Xuan proudly raised his chin, as if the sugar dragon was still in front of him. "Of course, I couldn't bear to eat it. I carried it around most of the street, and then, when the sun came out, the dragon head fell to the ground with a 'thud'! I was so heartbroken..."
He sighed dramatically, then became animated again, “But don’t worry this year! I brought a special oil paper cover, it’s guaranteed not to melt! And another thing, there’s a mutton stall run by a foreigner on the west corner of the street, the skewers of meat sizzle with oil, sprinkled with spices from the Western Regions, the aroma is so strong it can be smelled for miles! We’ll go eat there after we finish watching the acrobatics, all you can eat!”
He became more and more enthusiastic as he spoke, and the hand pushing the wheelchair unconsciously sped up. He even tried to imitate the action of a juggler tossing and catching dumplings, making a grasping motion in the air with his fingertips.
“Sheng Xuan,” Xiao Qiyun’s voice rang out steadily, but beneath that steady tone lay a barely perceptible tension—a tension that was barely perceptible, for fear that Su Zhelan would be led too wild by Sheng Xuan.
He had somehow moved to the other side of the wheelchair, his slender fingers seemingly casually resting on the gilded armrests, but actually stabilizing the chair that was swaying slightly due to Sheng Xuan's movements. "The stone road is uneven, push it more steadily."
His gaze swept over Su Zhelan's fox fur coat, which had slipped off one corner due to the bumpy ride, and he quietly tucked it back in for her.
Sheng Xuan then realized he had gotten carried away and quickly gripped the handrails tightly, chuckling, "I know, I know! I'm just happy!" He slowed his pace, but his tongue remained fluent.
"You wouldn't believe it, that acrobatic troupe is absolutely amazing! There are fire-breathing performers, bowl-balancing acts, and even a little girl who can do somersaults on a thin rope like a little sparrow! Zhelan, you'll definitely love watching them!"
Xiao Qiyun's gaze swept across the increasingly bustling street corner ahead. The silhouettes of the throngs of people swayed in the thin mist, and the deafening sounds of drums and hawkers' cries were already clearly audible. Although his face remained calm, he was quietly touched by this vibrant atmosphere of the marketplace.
He had never strolled through a temple fair so freely. He imagined the light that might have shone in Su Zhelan's eyes when she saw those novelties through the veil of mist, a light that could only shine for him alone, and a faint warmth slipped through his heart.
He replied in a low voice, "Yes, I'll go take a look."
Su Zhelan sat in her wheelchair, her body rising and falling slightly with the steady movement.
Although he could not see clearly, Sheng Xuan's vivid descriptions seemed to unfold a series of lively pictures before his eyes.
He listened intently to the growing clamor of voices, his nose catching the increasingly rich and mouthwatering aromas of food and perfumes in the air. His fingertips unconsciously caressed the cool, gilded carvings on the armrests of his wheelchair. A long-lost, vibrant joy belonging to the world was slowly filling his long-dormant heart.
“Sheng Xuan,” he said with a smile, “that fire-breathing entertainer, isn’t he afraid of burning his beard?” He deliberately interrupted, letting Sheng Xuan continue, while also giving Xiao Qiyun room to interject, keeping both of their attention firmly in his grasp.
“Hey! That’s real skill!” Sheng Xuan immediately chimed in, launching into another round of lavish descriptions.
As soon as the wheelchair entered the main street, Su Zhelan instinctively gripped the armrests. Not out of fear, but to gauge the reactions of the two—Sheng Xuan's excitement and Xiao Qiyun's wariness were both bargaining chips he could use.
The misty gauze filtered out the glaring sunlight and the chaotic colors, but made the sounds and smells exceptionally clear, sharp, and even heavy, crashing into his world.
The shouts of foreign merchants, thick with their exotic accents, rose and fell, hawking their wares: "Afghanistan glass! Persian spices! Don't miss out!"; the clear cries of Central Plains vendors mingled among them: "Freshly baked sesame cakes! Hot mutton soup!"; the rapid, rain-like beat of the jie drum and the mournful yet passionate tunes of the bili flute strangely intertwined with the distant, plaintive strains of "Rainbow Feather Robe" played by a string and bamboo band; the shrill laughter of children chasing and playing, the clatter of dice in bowls, the loud, boisterous haggling of soldiers in front of the weapons shop, the rhythmic clang of patrolling soldiers' boots on the stone path... countless fragments of sound converged in his ears into a boundless, clamorous ocean.
The air was thick and thick with a variety of strong smells: the smoky aroma of cumin and chili powder from grilled lamb skewers dominated the air; freshly baked sesame cakes emitted an enticing aroma of wheat and sesame; the sweet smell of syrup, the fragrance of perfume from women's hair, the bitter and cool scent wafting from herb stalls, the pungent smell of leather and horses, and even the mingled smell of sweat and dust... These smells were intense and mixed, yet strangely they formed a unique fragrance that belonged to the streets and the frontier, full of vitality.
"Wow! That's really something!" Sheng Xuan's voice rang in Su Zhelan's ears, filled with undisguised excitement, like a sharp blade cleaving through the sound waves in Su Zhelan's ears. "Su Zhelan, can you smell it? That's the smell! Authentic Western Region cumin! Come on, let's go invite the Qilin first, and then we'll eat our fill!"
He unconsciously increased the force with which he pushed the wheelchair, and quickened his pace, as if he wanted to plunge headlong into the bustling crowd and monopolize the excitement.
The wheelchair jolted suddenly, causing Su Zhelan's body to sway slightly. Almost simultaneously, a long, steady hand rested on the gilded armrest on the other side, firmly stabilizing the chair.
"Shengxuan, slow down." Xiao Qiyun's voice was not loud, but it clearly pierced through the noise, carrying an undeniable calmness. "The stone road is bumpy."
"Okay, okay," Sheng Xuan replied, but only slowed down a little. Like a nimble fish, he pushed his wheelchair through the throng of people, his loud voice becoming a clarion call to clear the way.
"Excuse me! Excuse me! Please make way! Watch your wheels!" His bright red and gold-embroidered robe stood out in the dusty crowd, and with the youthful vigor he exuded, he actually managed to carve a narrow path through the throng.
Su Zhelan could feel the sides of his wheelchair brushing against the hem of pedestrians' clothes, and hear their breathing and whispers nearby. This feeling of being in the middle of a large, vibrant crowd was both strange and novel, making his heart tighten slightly, yet also giving rise to an indescribable excitement.
Shengxuan's goal was extremely clear. After many twists and turns, he stopped precisely in front of a stall that was surrounded by children.
A rich, sweet caramel aroma wafts up.
"We're here! This is it!" Sheng Xuan's voice rose an octave, tinged with pride. "Master! Master! Give me a big one! A Qilin that rides the clouds! The most majestic kind!" He slammed several large coins onto the stall with gusto, the crisp sound of the coins hitting the wooden board being particularly clear.
The old sugar painting master, with his white hair and beard, glanced at Sheng Xuan, then at Su Zhelan, who was in a wheelchair covered with a light veil and had a cool and aloof temperament, and Xiao Qiyun, who was standing next to her with a composed demeanor. A knowing smile flashed in his cloudy old eyes. Without saying a word, he scooped up a spoonful of golden sugar syrup and his wrist flew.
The syrup flowed like golden threads, outlining a lithe body, flowing mane, and sharp horns on the smooth stone slab... Finally, a slender bamboo skewer was firmly embedded in it.
"Wow! Amazing!" Sheng Xuan stared at it, even happier than if he had received a treasure himself. He carefully took the sugar unicorn, which was crystal clear in the morning light and looked as if it was about to take off at any moment, and presented it to Su Zhelan like a precious treasure.
"Su Zhelan! Quick, touch it! This horn, so hard! These scales, one by one! And these cloud patterns, just like the real thing! Impressive, isn't it?"
Su Zhelan reached out, her fingertips tinged with just the right amount of hesitation and curiosity, and gently touched the smooth, cool, and sweetly fragrant sugar shell. She deliberately slowed the pace of her caress, feeling the proud posture of the sugar unicorn, as if measuring Sheng Xuan's meticulous care. The unicorn's outline became clearer under her fingertips, and its vibrant life force seemed to seep into her heart through the touch.
He smiled and looked at Sheng Xuan's excited face with just the right amount of dependence: "Hmm, how impressive!"
She gently tapped the tip of the sugar unicorn's horn with her fingertip. "Thank you, Second Young Master, for your trouble."
He carefully licked the tip of the Qilin's horn, his tongue swirling away the pure sweetness, but his gaze swept over Sheng Xuan's reddened ears—this sweetness was far more effective than any medicinal soup; the pure sweetness melted on his tongue, carrying the aroma of sunshine and malt.
"Don't mention it!" Sheng Xuan grinned, magically pulling out his specially made oil paper cover from his pocket. He carefully put it on the sugar unicorn to make sure it wouldn't melt easily before stuffing it into Su Zhelan's arms. "Here! Our next target—Hu-style roasted meat!"
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