Chapter 9
Just as the gong sounded at the hour of Xu (7-9 PM), Sheng Xuan kicked open the door of Shuyu Courtyard. His shoulder armor was still covered with grass clippings from the training ground, and he waved a gold-dusted invitation card in his hand. His red-tasseled helmet shimmered in the candlelight.
"Hey! Su Zhelan! Do you know what day it is in a few days?"
Su Zhelan was leaning against the couch looking at Xiao Qiyun's copy of "Map of the Frontier". Her left eye could see clearly, and the mountains drawn in ink on the Xuan paper were as if they were alive.
Upon hearing this, I looked up and saw Sheng Xuan slam the invitation onto the center of the stone table. The four characters "Border Temple Fair" in gold on a red background were dazzling in the candlelight, and there were still a few grains of gold dust stuck to the edges.
"A temple fair is going to be held in the west of the city!" Sheng Xuan's voice boomed, making the window paper vibrate. He paced back and forth, his boots scraping against the blue bricks, the clinking of the armor plates carrying the unique excitement of a young man.
"The merchants from the north set up a thirty-mile-long street, with wolf teeth from the northern desert strung together like wind chimes and hanging in front of their tents. Snake charmers could make green-scaled snakes dance around their arms with the sound of their flutes..."
He suddenly leaned down and whispered in Su Zhelan's ear, the scent of soapberry from his armor mingling with the smell of sweat, deliberately teasing Su Zhelan's earlobe with his breath.
“My personal guards just got word from the Persian caravan that this year there will be ‘celestial maidens scattering flowers’—if you light a fuse at night, it will explode into a sky full of fire, ten times brighter than the stars!”
Xiao Qiyun, who was sketching the pass markers with a wolf-hair brush by the couch, heard this and the tip of his brush left a dot of ink on the rice paper. He lowered his eyes to wipe away the flaw, but his fingertips unconsciously caressed the ice-like patterns on the edge of the inkstone.
The ink dot was deliberately drawn by him—the clamor of Shengxuan was like a thorn, making his fingertips itch.
Having grown up listening to the elegant music of chime bells in the Eastern Palace, the stringed instruments and songs of the border temple fairs were like an unopened picture book of a foreign land, exuding a forbidden allure.
"Persian fireworks?" Su Zelan's curiosity was piqued, and her fingertips gently traced the raised gold foil patterns on the post.
Knowing that Xiao Qiyun was wary of Sheng Xuan's closeness, she deliberately raised her voice, "I remembered a rumor I heard before, that there was a Hu woman playing a glass zither, and the fragrance of incense could reach three streets."
He recalled the rumors he had heard before, that there were Hu girls playing glass zithers at the border temple fair, and that merchants were carrying spices on camels, the fragrance of which could be smelled for three streets.
“Of course!” Sheng Xuan immediately straightened his back, the breastplate clanging against the stone table. Suddenly, he reached out and tugged at Su Zhelan’s sleeve, his silver-armored gloves deliberately applying force, leaving shallow marks on the cotton robe.
The silver-armored gloves brushed against the other person's cotton robe with a soft rustling sound. "I'll go shopping with you then! We'll walk from street to street, buy whatever we like, and stop if we see a snake dance—it'll definitely be more interesting than staying cooped up in the courtyard!"
He became more and more smug as he spoke, his boot toes spun around on the ground, unaware that Xiao Qiyun's fingers, resting on the drawings, were grinding the paperweight with a soft sound.
The paperweight was a piece of Kunlun black jade, engraved with the unique intertwined vine pattern of the Eastern Palace. Xiao Qiyun's fingertips sank deeply into the jade pattern, and black stone powder fell down along the gaps between his fingers, as if venting his anger at being provoked, piling up into small gray marks on the Xuan paper.
He gazed at the main street of the temple fair, outlined in vermilion on the map. It snaked like a snake, and the red circles marking "Foreign Merchants' Acrobatics Area" and "Fireworks Display Area" were particularly glaring. Last night, he secretly flipped through "Notes on Local Customs," and had stroked the pages while looking at the illustrations of Persian fireworks, imagining the night sky filled with the smell of sulfur mixed with the sound of the Huqin.
That was the scenery he wanted to show Su Zhelan; how could he let Sheng Xuan beat him to it?
"Second Young Master, you've gone to great lengths." Xiao Qiyun suddenly spoke, his ink brush outlining the beacon tower on the map. His tone was calm, yet every word was barbed.
"However, Su Zhelan's right leg has only just regained its strength, so she may not be able to stand for long. In addition, during the temple fair, the caravans of foreign merchants and refugees will be mixed together, making the long streets crowded and difficult to walk on..."
He put down his pen, picked up the jade wheel from the table, and massaged Su Zhelan's knees, deliberately pressing the cool jade against the tendon adhesions.
Xiao Qiyun deliberately eased the pressure on the adhered tendons with his fingertips, "The military report from the day before yesterday said that there was a conflict on the West City Commercial Road because vendors were blocking the road. If it gets hit by the crowd..."
He suddenly raised his hand and pointed to the northwest corner of the border map, where a pavilion with flying eaves was circled in vermilion: "The private room on the second floor of the lakeside teahouse faces the main street. There is a carved canopy outside the railing to shelter it from the wind, and there are guards guarding the stairwell downstairs—so you can see the lights for thirty miles without having to squeeze into the crowd."
This arrangement was meticulous, showing thoughtfulness while completely eliminating any possibility that Sheng Xuan might want to take Su Zhelan for a stroll alone.
“What kind of temple fair is it to sit in a teahouse!” Sheng Xuan slammed his hand on the table and stood up abruptly, making the stone table crash loudly. The gold-flecked invitations that were shaken off fluttered down onto Su Zhelan’s lap like butterfly wings.
“Last year I was squatting in the camel caravan watching the orchid dancers,” he grabbed Su Zhelan’s sleeve and shook it hard, so hard that Su Zhelan’s shoulder hurt. “The benzoin powder she sprinkled landed on half my face—what can you smell through the ceiling?”
The scent of soap mingled with the smell of sweat wafted over Su Zhelan's face, making her shoulder bones ache and her old knee injury suddenly tighten.
The aching sensation, like vines, shot up his spine and down to the back of his neck, and he instinctively gripped the brocade quilt on the edge of the bed.
A familiar stinging pain came from the tendon adhesion, like a thin needle repeatedly piercing under the skin. The words Gu Linzhao had told him last night when he massaged him, "Don't put any pressure on me," were now buzzing in his ears.
"Be gentle!" Xiao Qiyun suddenly stood up, the ink brush slipping from his fingers, leaving winding black marks on the rice paper. This rebuke was half genuine concern, and half a show for Sheng Xuan.
Su Zhelan shook her head, but when she saw Sheng Xuan looking so annoyed that he almost ripped off the red tassel on his helmet, she forced a smile: "It's nothing... I just haven't done anything for a long time."
Before he could finish speaking, the lingering soreness in his knees made him furrow his brow slightly. This subtle expression, like bait, precisely drew their attention.
Xiao Qiyun put the jade wheel into the brocade box with a soft "click," but his fingertips lingered on Su Zhelan's knee for a moment, the warmth of his fingertips seeping through the fabric, carrying a sense of asserting dominance.
Xiao Qiyun paused in his action of putting the jade wheel into the brocade box, then gently pressed his fingertips on Su Zhelan's knee again, the force carrying an unmistakable desire for control. Only after confirming that the convulsions had completely subsided did he turn around to tidy up the scattered pieces of the paperweight.
The fragments of black jade gleamed coldly in the candlelight. He brushed his fingertips over one of the pieces, which was engraved with intertwined branches, and suddenly spoke: "The temple fair is held every year, but Zelan only has one right leg."
These words made Sheng Xuan look up abruptly, a hint of panic flashing in his eyes.
He saw Xiao Qiyun put the shredded paperweight into the celadon dish next to the inkstone, the bottom of which still had traces of ink from that morning. Suddenly, he stiffened his neck and argued.
“I know! But this year is different…” He pulled a wolf tooth from his sleeve, which had been clutched until it was warm. A red string was still wrapped around the tip of the tooth. The wolf tooth was burning hot from his body heat, just like his unconcealed concern. “The Hu merchant said that this wolf tooth can ward off evil spirits. I want to take you to pick out the best one…”
"Thank you, Second Young Master." Su Zhelan wanted to raise her hand to pat his shoulder, but due to her leg injury, her movements were sluggish, and her fingertips fell limply after only halfway up the air. This deliberate "weakness" instantly triggered Sheng Xuan's protective instincts.
He saw Sheng Xuan standing there listlessly, completely unlike his usual flamboyant self.
The morning light shone pale white through the edges of the window frame.
Sheng Xuan suddenly stood up, but he was no longer as impatient as before. He gently placed the wolf tooth into Su Zhelan's palm, deliberately rubbing his fingertips against Su Zhelan's wrist pulse. The pulse there was much more stable than before.
"I'll have the kitchen prepare a beef knee and deer tendon soup for you tomorrow morning, with some of your favorite jujubes added..." His voice grew softer and softer, the last few words almost disappearing into the night wind.
Before Su Zhelan could respond, he turned and walked out the door. The sound of his boots rolling over the blue bricks was dragging and heavy, like a defeated beast that still stubbornly refused to bow its head.
When he reached the threshold, he suddenly stopped, but didn't turn around. He just squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth: "...If it hurts, call for help. Don't bear it."
As Sheng Xuan's boisterous footsteps faded at the end of the corridor, the candlelight in Shuyu Courtyard suddenly dimmed, leaving only the crackling of the silver charcoal in the medicine cauldron.
Xiao Qiyun squatted by the couch, his fingertips dabbing with a light green muscle-relaxing ointment, and gently massaged the tendons in Su Zhelan's knees.
The coolness of the ointment concealed a smug sense of "I'm all alone now."
The ointment, with its refreshing mint and mugwort flavor, seeped into the muscles through the skin, relieving the soreness and swelling after the spasms.
"Does it still hurt?" Xiao Qiyun's voice was very low, and the gentleness in his tone was like a hook wrapped in honey. His fingertips circled the sticky tendons.
As he lowered his gaze, his long eyelashes cast a fan-shaped shadow beneath his eyelids, landing precisely on Su Zhelan's pale ankle, where the imprint of the mulberry wood splint still remained. This mark reassured him—Su Zhelan's vulnerability was his best shackle.
Su Zhelan shook her head, but when she felt Xiao Qiyun's fingertips trembling slightly, she subconsciously curled her toes.
His cuff brushed against his trouser leg, the embroidered python pattern on his casual clothes shimmering in the candlelight, and the scent of ink mixed with the smell of ointment emanating from his sleeve pocket gave a strange sense of peace.
"I just heard Shengxuan mention the temple fair..." Xiao Qiyun suddenly stopped, his fingertips still resting on Su Zhelan's Kunlun acupoint on her knee, the coolness of the ointment seeping into the acupoint.
He paused, moonlight streaming through the window lattice onto his slightly lowered eyelashes, casting a silvery glow on his hesitation. "Do you want to go?"
He was gambling—gambling that Su Zhelan wouldn't dare refuse his "kindness".
Su Zhelan looked up in surprise. Xiao Qiyun's cheeks glowed faintly in the moonlight, and his usually steady voice had a subtle undulation, like the gentle breeze caressing the strings of a zither.
You could feel the thin calluses on his palms beneath his fingertips—the result of years of holding a pen, which were now trembling slightly with nervousness.
This flaw prompted him to add fuel to the fire.
"Does Your Highness wish to go?" Su Zhelan asked in return, clearly seeing the faint blush rising on Xiao Qiyun's ear tips.
As the candlelight flickered, the young prince hurriedly withdrew his hand, the ointment on his fingertips smearing onto the brocade quilt beside the bed, spreading a small patch of pale green.
He wanted to force Xiao Qiyun to admit that he also wanted to take him along.
Xiao Qiyun remained silent for a moment, then suddenly pulled out an oil paper package from his sleeve. Inside were two oddly shaped pieces of maltose candy, with golden sugar threads still clinging to their edges—these were scraps of sugar painting that Sheng Xuan had taken the day before, which he had somehow managed to hide in his sleeve.
“I…” He placed the candy into Su Zhelan’s palm, his fingertips brushing against the thin calluses on her palm. “I just felt that the fireworks at the border might be different from those in the palace.” This show of weakness was the biggest concession he could offer.
The coolness of the ointment mingled with the warmth of the maltose in her palm. Su Zhelan watched as Xiao Qiyun lowered his head again to apply the medicine, his fingers repeatedly tracing the engraved "Xiao" character on the paperweight, as if concealing something. The candlelight illuminated his slightly pursed lips, and that unspoken expectation was clearer than the minty scent of the ointment.
“If Your Highness wishes to go,” Su Zhelan suddenly spoke, her fingertips rubbing the edge of the candy, “I… will go with you.” This promise seemed like a sweet treat for Xiao Qiyun, but in reality, it dragged both of them into his game.
Xiao Qiyun suddenly looked up, the muscles under his fingertips tightening abruptly with his movement. The surprise in his eyes was like a ignited flame, but he quickly concealed it, transforming it into a faint smile at the corner of his lips.
"Okay," he replied softly, spreading the ointment evenly on Su Zhelan's knees again, his fingertips massaging along the meridians as if drawing a net that belonged only to him.
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