Chapter 6
The wind at the border gradually became icy, and it stung my face like a knife.
The old trees in the courtyard had long since shed their last withered leaves, their bare branches stretching towards the leaden sky, their tips covered with tiny icicles that jingled and clanged in the wind.
The frozen soil under the tree was cracked with spiderweb-like fissures. The snow that had fallen last night was ankle-deep, and it crunched underfoot. The last bit of autumn mud left in the cracks of the bluestone slabs had been frozen into hard, solid lumps of ice.
Sheng Xuan has been visiting the courtyard more frequently lately than Su Yan has come to change his dressing.
Often, the dust in the training ground hadn't been wiped off yet, and grass clippings still clung to his silver armor, as he would stroll in carrying trinkets he'd just bought from the market—sometimes a string of candied hawthorns, the sugar coating gleaming crisply in the sunlight; sometimes a small wooden trinket, the mechanism for the monkey climbing the pole crudely made, yet it would make Su Zhelan's lips curl into a smile.
What he gave her wasn't a trinket at all; he was clearly trying to get attention from Su Zhelan, but he insisted on pretending it was something he "bought on a whim."
"Look what this is!" Sheng Xuan put the oil paper package on the table and proudly opened it. Two dark brown candied plums rolled out, coated with tiny osmanthus blossoms. "Made by the new Hu merchant from West Street. They're even sweeter than the last ones."
At that moment, Xiao Qiyun was reading "Essentials of Border Defense" to Su Zhelan. Upon hearing this, he paused, and out of the corner of his eye, he precisely caught the small gesture of Su Zhelan's fingertips rubbing the edge of the table—this was the signal that he was moved.
For the past two weeks, Shengxuan has been like a peacock spreading its tail, sending things here in all sorts of ways, from hot sweet cakes to bamboo dragonflies that can flutter their wings, and Su Zhelan always watches them intently.
"You're wasting money again." Su Yan looked up from beside the medicine stove, grinding mugwort with a pestle in his hand. "Be careful your brother finds out, he'll break your legs."
Sheng Xuan retorted, sticking out her neck, "I bought it with my own monthly allowance!" As she spoke, she secretly glanced at Su Zhelan and saw him picking up a plum and bringing it to his nose to smell it, and her ears began to burn again.
"Hey, want to try some?" The anticipation in his voice was palpable, and even the sound of the silver armor clashing together seemed to soften.
Su Zhelan turned her head blankly, her left eye could only see a blurry dark blue shadow, but she could smell the sweet fragrance of plums.
Just as he was about to speak, Xiao Qiyun suddenly closed the book and tapped the table lightly with his fingertips: "Mr. Su just said that the medicine you've been taking these past few days has dietary restrictions, and you shouldn't eat anything sweet or greasy." His voice was gentle and calm, yet he subtly changed the subject.
He had long since memorized Su Zhelan's medication contraindications, but he chose to bring them up at this moment precisely because he didn't want Sheng Xuan to succeed.
Sheng Xuan immediately glared at Xiao Qiyun: "What do you know! You need to eat well to recover well!"
"Oh?" Xiao Qiyun raised an eyebrow, placed the book next to Su Zhelan's pillow, and deliberately rubbed his fingertip over the scar on the back of Su Zhelan's neck. "The snow frog soup I had someone stew the other day was quite sweet and nourishing." These words stung Sheng Xuan's heart, yet there was a hint of barely perceptible boasting in his tone.
Su Zhelan tightened her grip on the plum, feeling Sheng Xuan's gaze on her and Xiao Qiyun's palm pressing against her shoulder.
He deliberately slowed down his movements, waiting to see how the two would compete this time.
He quickly put the plums back into the paper package and said in a low voice, "Second Young Master is very thoughtful, but..."
“There is no ‘just’!” Sheng Xuan interrupted him, shoving the plum into Su Zhelan’s hand. “Eat it if you want, don’t listen to his nonsense!” Before he finished speaking, the jade pendant at his waist clattered against the corner of the table, and a candied plum rolled off, leaving fine sugar frosting on the bluestone slab.
His flustered and disorganized manner suggested that he was afraid Su Zhelan would actually listen to Xiao Qiyun's words.
Xiao Qiyun tapped the spine of a book lightly with his fingers resting on the desk, the scent of ink mingling with the aroma of medicine lingering in the stagnant air. He was waiting for Su Zhelan's choice, his eyes brimming with an almost overwhelming desire for control—Su Zhelan had to stand by his side.
Su Zhelan held the warm plum in her hand, feeling the lingering sweat on Sheng Xuan's fingertips, and sensing the thin ice in Xiao Qiyun's gaze.
“Actually…” Su Zhelan suddenly spoke, her fingertips tracing the sugar coating on the plums, “These osmanthus-flavored plums can actually mask the fishy smell of today’s medicine.”
He turned his head, and behind the pterygium of his left eye, he saw the blurry shadows of the two of them. A faint smile appeared on his lips. "I felt nauseous when I took my medicine a few days ago. My master even said he would find some candied fruit. The plums that you sent are just in time, Second Young Master."
With a single sentence, he gave Sheng Xuan a way out without offending Xiao Qiyun, turning "passive acceptance" into "active need," and appeasing both sides perfectly.
These words were like a cork thrown into an icy lake, and Sheng Xuan's stiff neck suddenly relaxed: "That's right! I picked it on purpose..."
"Oh?" Xiao Qiyun ran his fingertips along the edge of the book, his tone softening. "Since it's to suppress the taste of medicine, then take one." He got up and poured Su Zhelan a glass of warm water, the porcelain spoon making a soft tinkling sound as it swirled in the glass. "But you can't take any more before your acupuncture tomorrow."
Taking a step back is for better control; it shows magnanimity while also setting rules.
Su Zhelan hummed in agreement, carefully biting into the plum. The sweet and sour juice mixed with the fragrance of osmanthus blossoms spread across his tongue. He saw Sheng Xuan quietly straighten his back, and then noticed Xiao Qiyun adding more warm water to his cup. Suddenly, he felt that the bitter taste of the medicine in his throat had indeed been suppressed by this plum.
The branches outside the window swayed, and the sunlight filtering through fell on the shadows of the three people, softening the tense atmosphere into a subtle sweetness amidst the aroma of medicine.
“These plum pits are quite small.” Sheng Xuan stared at the plum pit that Su Zhelan was holding between her fingers and suddenly said out of the blue, “The merchants in West Street said that they are made from wild plums from the northern desert, and the smaller the pit, the sweeter they are.”
Xiao Qiyun pushed the warm water to Su Zhelan's side, and the blue cloth strip wrapped around the handle of the porcelain spoon swayed—it was specially wrapped to prevent Su Zhelan from slipping when he wiped Su Zhelan's hands the day before.
“Wild plums from the northern desert have a strong nature,” he said, his fingertips tracing the rim of the cup, his tone serious with a touch of scholarly refinement. “When used in medicine, they need to be mixed with licorice root; simply soaking them in sugar might cause internal heat.”
Su Zhelan listened to the two of them singing back and forth, a plum in her mouth.
“Oh, right,” Sheng Xuan suddenly slapped his thigh, making the medicine bowl on the table rattle, “I saw some spinning windmills for sale at the market the other day, I’ll buy them when I’m done with this…”
"Second Young Master!" A guard's voice suddenly rang out from outside the courtyard gate, tinged with urgency. "The General summoned you from the front hall, saying it's an urgent report from the border!"
Sheng Xuan's words were interrupted, and his brows immediately furrowed: "Urgent report? What is it now!" He kicked the stool leg, but as he stood up, he subconsciously glanced at Su Zhelan, "Then I'll go first, and bring you a windmill later!"
"The general has summoned you; you must not delay." Xiao Qiyun rose and lifted the bamboo curtain for him, his gaze falling on the sugar frosting on his dark blue casual clothes. "Go quickly."
His tone was calm, but as Sheng Xuan turned around, he quickly wiped the sugar stains off Su Zhelan's fingertips with a handkerchief.
Sheng Xuan strode out, his boots brushing against the threshold. He turned back and called out, "Hey, Zhe Lan! Don't listen to his nonsense. Tell me what you want to eat!" His voice disappeared into the corridor, and sunlight filtered through the bamboo curtain, casting shimmering spots of light on Su Zhe Lan's knees.
Xiao Qiyun gazed in the direction where Sheng Xuan had disappeared, then suddenly chuckled and brushed away the plum blossom petals that had fallen on Su Zhelan's shoulder with his fingertips: "Look at him, he always seems to have his tail burned."
Su Zhelan held the small plum pit in her hand.
As the lamps were lit, Xiao Qiyun watched as Su Yan had just finished changing Su Zhelan's dressing when he was tricked away by Gu Linzhao again. He turned his head and saw Su Zhelan staring blankly at the string of bamboo dragonflies on the table. A red ribbon that Sheng Xuan had casually tore off was tied to the bamboo wings, and it was tied in a crooked knot.
The red silk felt like a thorn, pricking his eyes painfully.
"What are you thinking about?" Xiao Qiyun handed over the warm medicine, his fingertips brushing against Su Zhelan's knuckles. "The things Shengxuan brought today are more exquisite than the wooden monkey carving from last time." He deliberately emphasized the word "exquisite," but his gaze fell on Su Zhelan's hand holding the bamboo dragonfly.
His jealousy was palpable; even his voice carried a hint of sourness.
Su Zhelan's hand holding the medicine bowl trembled, and a few drops of the medicine spilled out. He knew what Xiao Qiyun was upset about—these days, Sheng Xuan always brought back novelties from outside, while Xiao Qiyun rarely went out because he had to study military strategy. All he could bring were some calming soups and tonics, which were not as interesting as those.
“Your Highness reads to me and changes my medicine every day,” Su Zhelan said softly, blowing on the medicine. “It’s better than anything else.”
These words were like honey, hitting Xiao Qiyun's sore spot perfectly.
"Oh?" Xiao Qiyun put down the medicine bowl, suddenly leaned closer, and his warm breath brushed against Su Zhelan's ear. "Then why did you smile at the bamboo dragonfly just now?"
His fingertips gently pinched Su Zhelan's wrist, as if he were playing with a fragile piece of jade. "Don't you think that he understands your feelings better than I do?"
His tone was dangerously probing, and the grip on his wrist tightened slightly. The question was direct, carrying a stubbornness rarely seen in a young man.
Su Zhelan could feel his pulse pounding rapidly in his wrist, like a startled sparrow. He remembered Xiao Qiyun coming to study every day without fail, his fingertips always carrying the scent of ink; he remembered how Xiao Qiyun would gently wipe his hands, carefully avoiding the wound.
“Your Highness treats me…” Su Zhelan turned her head, her left eye unable to see Xiao Qiyun’s expression, but she could feel the warmth of his palm, “meticulous and thoughtful, Zhelan…” He paused, choosing his words carefully, “I understand everything.”
He left things unsaid, acknowledging Xiao Qiyun's good qualities without denying Sheng Xuan's existence.
Xiao Qiyun didn't speak again, but just looked at him. Outside the window came the sound of Sheng Xuan directing his guards to sweep the courtyard, his voice tinged with annoyance.
Xiao Qiyun looked at the blush rising on Su Zhelan's ears and suddenly smiled. The smile was a mixture of smugness and bitterness, like a half-finished plum wine, sweet with a hint of astringency.
He was satisfied with Su Zhelan's answer, but he also resented that it wasn't unique enough.
“I’ll accompany you for acupuncture tomorrow.” As Xiao Qiyun got up, he casually took the bamboo dragonfly from the table and stuck it on the windowsill. “As for these things…” He paused, his fingertips brushing against the red silk on the bamboo wings. “If you like them, I’ll have the palace servants make some more exquisite ones another day.”
We must use something better to completely replace the traces of Shengxuan.
As the night dew grew heavier, Xiao Qiyun remained seated by the couch, reading. The candlelight on the table flickered, casting his profile—his lowered gaze—on the bed curtains. The hem of his dark robe trailed on the blue bricks, stained with a bit of medicine powder that Su Zhelan had rubbed off when changing his dressing.
Su Zelan had fallen asleep under the influence of the medicine, her breathing shallow.
A bamboo dragonfly was stuck on the windowsill, and the red silk ribbon was occasionally fluttered by the through breeze, making a soft rustling sound.
Xiao Qiyun's fingertips brushed against Su Zhelan's hair, and a bittersweet feeling welled up in his heart again, like an unripe plum wine, sweet on the surface but bitter underneath.
The popping of the candle wick startled Su Zhelan, making her eyelashes tremble. Xiao Qiyun quickly put down his book, his fingertips inadvertently brushing against the delicate skin behind Su Zhelan's ear. The skin there was softer than cotton wool, carrying a warm scent, causing his fingertips to tremble slightly.
This softness is like poison; you know it's dangerous, yet you can't help but want to touch it.
After hesitating for a moment, Xiao Qiyun suddenly leaned down and brushed away the stray hairs on Su Zhelan's forehead.
The boy frowned slightly in his sleep, as if sensing something, and shrank further under the covers. Xiao Qiyun's breath brushed past his ear, carrying a faint scent of herbs mixed with medicine—the unique aroma of Su Zhelan.
His lips finally landed gently behind Su Zhelan's ear, near the scar. It was Su Zhelan's most cherished secret spot, and he was determined to leave his mark there, to assert his dominance.
The touch was as soft as a feather, yet it made Xiao Qiyun's heart skip a beat.
Su Zhelan let out a soft hum, turning her head to the side, her nose brushing against Xiao Qiyun's sleeve. Xiao Qiyun sat up abruptly, his ears burning hotter than candlelight. He saw a faint blush rising on the skin behind Su Zhelan's ears.
In his panic, his fingertips unconsciously brushed against the bamboo dragonfly's wings, retying the crooked red ribbon into a neat knot, as if to cover up his lapse in composure, or as if to complete some kind of ritual.
His fingertips paused for a moment on the rough bamboo texture before he finally withdrew his hand.
Moonlight streamed through the window, casting a silvery glow on the faint hickey behind Su Zelan's ear.
Outside the bamboo curtain, Xiao Qiyun's footsteps faded into the distance, carrying a hint of imperceptible haste, yet leaving behind the lingering scent of his ink, which mingled with the mugwort fragrance emanating from Su Zhelan, quietly fermenting in the silent night.
This stolen intimacy, like a planted seed, will sooner or later grow into a towering tree.
The next morning, Sheng Xuan appeared at Shuyu Courtyard again, carrying a food box containing freshly baked sugar cakes, still steaming hot.
He had intended to show off, but instead saw Xiao Qiyun sitting by the couch, holding a silver hairpin and carefully fixing Su Zhelan's disheveled hair. That practiced movement pierced Sheng Xuan's eyes like needles.
"What are you doing here again?" Xiao Qiyun asked without looking up, his tone indifferent. "I'm getting acupuncture today, so don't get in the way."
Sheng Xuan slammed the food box on the table with a loud "bang": "I came to see him! Is that not allowed?" The hostility in his voice was palpable, like a wolf whose tail had been stepped on.
Su Zhelan coughed, choked by the tension between the two, and quickly tried to smooth things over: "Second Young Master's sweet cake..."
"Leave it there." Xiao Qiyun interrupted him, fastened the silver hairpin, and gently twirled Su Zhelan's earlobe with his fingertips. "The time has come, Mr. Su should be here soon."
The touch of fingertips was declarative, deliberately done for Shengxuan's benefit.
Sheng Xuan watched Xiao Qiyun's practiced movements and felt a pang of discomfort in his heart, as if being scratched by a cat. He recalled how every time he came, he would either knock things over or say the wrong thing, unlike Xiao Qiyun who was so calm and gentle.
But when he caught a glimpse of the helpless smile on Su Zhelan's lips, he stubbornly retorted, "I'll just watch from here, who dares to get in my way?" He was determined to prove himself, even if it meant just standing there.
In the room filled with the aroma of medicine, the three of them each had their own thoughts.
When Su Yan walked in carrying his medicine box, he saw the tense atmosphere between Sheng Xuan and the composed Xiao Qiyun, and then looked at Su Zhelan, who was caught in the middle and in a dilemma. He couldn't help but chuckle and said, "Oh, what's going on today?"
These words made Sheng Xuan's face turn bright red, while Xiao Qiyun coughed lightly.
Su Yan heated the silver needles over the candle flame until they were hot, dipped his fingertips in the ointment, and was about to probe the scar on the back of Su Zhelan's neck.
The boy lay on his side, his plain white nightgown pulled down to his shoulder bone. The pale purple scar on the back of his neck gleamed faintly in the candlelight, while a very faint red mark to his side, like a fallen peach petal, stood out against his delicate skin.
"What is this?" Su Yan's tweezers fell into the copper plate with a "click," and the air, filled with the aroma of medicine, suddenly froze.
He ran his fingertips over the red mark, feeling its slight swelling; it was clearly a mark left by lips and teeth.
Sheng Xuan was looking at acupuncture point charts at the table when he was startled by the question and looked up. He saw Su Yan suddenly turn his head, his gaze like a poisoned needle piercing him: "How late did you stay up last night, Second Young Master?"
"I..." Sheng Xuan was bewildered by the glare and scratched the back of his head. "I left after dropping off Mei Zi yesterday!"
He caught a glimpse of Su Yan's gaze falling behind Su Zhelan's ear, and following that gaze, the red mark made his pupils shrink sharply. Like being doused with cold water, he instantly sobered up—it wasn't him. Sheng Xuan's mind raced, his fingers unconsciously tightening their grip on the toy in his sleeve pocket.
"What are you looking at!" Su Yan saw Sheng Xuan staring blankly at the red marks and mistakenly thought he was smug. He slammed the pestle on the table with a "thud," but his eyes looked like he wanted to tear Sheng Xuan to pieces.
Xiao Qiyun paused, his hand holding the warm water still, the porcelain spoon creating delicate ripples in the cup. He lowered his eyes to wipe the back of Su Zhelan's neck, his long eyelashes concealing the turmoil in his eyes, but his fingertips deliberately slowed their movements near the red mark. A hint of secret smugness lingered, yet he feigned innocence.
"No!...I didn't!" Sheng Xuan jumped up and down in a panic, but when she caught a glimpse of the barely noticeable blush on Xiao Qiyun's earlobe, she suddenly shut her mouth.
He recalled that when he left last night, Xiao Qiyun was still reading by the bedside. He also remembered the strange way Xiao Qiyun's fingertips lingered on Su Zhelan's earlobe when he was putting a hairpin in her hair during the day. The red mark was in a tricky spot; unless he leaned in close, he couldn't reach it at all. Coupled with Xiao Qiyun's meticulous care for Su Zhelan, and recalling Xiao Qiyun's meaningful smile after he left yesterday—it turned out that this kid had already taken advantage of him!
His chest felt like it was stuffed with a tangled mess of hemp, both sore and swollen. Sheng Xuan stared at the red mark, finding it increasingly jarring.
Why can Xiao Qiyun do such things secretly, while he gets nagged even for feeding someone a plum? He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, and secretly decided to find an opportunity to "get back" and not let Xiao Qiyun have all the credit.
A competitive spirit was ignited, and he was determined to compete with Xiao Qiyun.
Su Yan ignored Sheng Xuan's explanation and angrily heated the silver needles over the fire until they were scalding hot.
Su Zhelan groaned under the influence of the medicine, her neck muscles tense, and the red mark rose and fell gently with her breath, as if silently mocking the people in the room, each with their own thoughts.
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