Chapter 51
Cao Xun, a man constantly on the move, rising before the sun and returning long after it sets, only gets three measly days a month to indulge in an entire day with Yunzhu.
In the past, whenever he was away, Yunzhu would pack up and visit her natal family. These days, though, there's a little extra pull-her sister-in-law, someone she clicks with effortlessly, making those visits even more irresistible.
Meng Shi, ever the doting mother, teased her daughter with a feigned scolding. "How can you keep darting back home every other day like this?"
But Yunzhu, confident and quick with her wit, shot back without missing a beat. "Relax, Mother. I'm not here for you. I'm here to see my sister-in-law."
Gu Min, ever composed and poised, just smiled warmly, her presence adding grace to the exchange.
The three of them wandered leisurely through the lush garden, basking in each other's company.
Meng Shi's curiosity eventually spilled out as she probed into Sun Yurong's impending marriage to Xu Guan.
Well-versed in all the details, Yunzhu explained, her voice light but steady. "The Xu family is based all the way out in Chang'an. Xu Guan sent word, fetched his mother, brother, and sister-in-law, and the whole back-and-forth will eat up three or four months. Between all that and the preparations, the wedding will likely be in September."
Meng Shi, never one to miss the practicalities, pressed further. "Where will the newlyweds live once they tie the knot?"
Yunzhu replied smoothly, "Yurong's got a dowry house, but Xu Guan made it clear he doesn't want to lean on that. His family has a modest income, but he's already picked out a house here in the capital. He's just waiting on the funds from home to finalize the deal."
Meng Shi raised an eyebrow, her tone sharp but knowing. "Men and their pride-it's always about keeping up appearances. Xu Guan may only be a seventh-rank official, but buying his own place? That's a statement. No man worth his salt wants to be seen living off his wife's dowry house. If word got out, his colleagues would have a field day."
Gu Min chimed in softly, her voice measured yet bright. "When I visited home last time, I heard my grandfather praising Xu Guan. He said the Duke of Qi made a smart choice with his son-in-law."
Yunzhu's lips curled into a small smile as she considered it privately. She knew Duke Qi hadn't lost sleep picking any suitors-this had Cao Xun's quiet handiwork all over it. Still, if even someone as shrewd as Mr. Gu had praise for Xu Guan, the man clearly had something to him.
Eventually, Meng Shi left the two younger women to their own devices, murmuring something about errands to run and leaving them free to shop-or wander-as they pleased.
Yunzhu took Gu Min by the hand and led her to the pavilion, her teasing smile breaking through as she turned the conversation to something more delicious. "So, tell me-how are things between you and my brother?"
Gu Min's cheeks warmed slightly as she dropped her gaze, her smile shy but telling. "Really? There's nothing much yet. At most, he's... blunt. He speaks plainly and acts a little rough around the edges."
Even before walking into her marriage, Gu Min had no illusions about Li Yao. She knew he wasn't the type to write poetry under moonlight or sip tea like a gentleman scholar. His future was on the battlefield, cutting through enemies, not charming with soft words and refinement.
And because of that, she never expected him to play the role of some delicate, polished aristocrat. Li Yao was exactly who he was-a man of action, unpolished but real-and that suited her just fine.
After Gu Min finished speaking, the silence stretched, and she glanced up curiously. There was Yunzhu, propped up on one hand, watching her with an amused, knowing smile curling at the edges of her lips.
Gu Min blushed, her voice soft but teasing as she asked, "What are you smiling at like that?"
Yunzhu's smile widened, slow and sly. "I'm just pleased for my brother," she said, her tone laced with something both sweet and sharp. "He's managed to win someone so tender, so devoted-lucky man. Makes me a little envious of his good fortune, I'll admit."
Gu Min hesitated, fingers brushing over the fabric in her lap. "What color does your brother like best?" she asked, low and deliberate. "I thought of making him a summer robe, but when I asked, all he said was, 'Whatever you make is fine.' It's infuriating."
Yunzhu let out an exasperated laugh, shaking her head. "You really don't know men, do you? Don't work so hard. If you fuss too much, he won't know how to appreciate the effort. It's like playing music for a cow-utterly wasted."
Gu Min only smiled faintly, as if undeterred. "It's not like I have anything better to do. It keeps me occupied."
Yunzhu paused, her gaze turning thoughtful. "Red," she said finally, an edge of certainty in her voice. "I remember, when we were kids, every time I was gifted new clothes, he'd always praise the red ones. What does he know? But it must mean something-he likes red."
Gu Min tucked that knowledge away and leaned in slightly, her voice soft but inviting. "Next time you're over, let's sit and do some needlework together. You could make something for your husband."
Yunzhu snorted, a flash of disdain in her laugh. "He's already so handsome-why would I need to embroider anything? I've never been one for those docile little womanly pastimes. Back when it was my parents' birthdays, I'd grit my teeth and craft something to make them happy. That was enough."
Gu Min's reply was calm but pointed, her lips curving knowingly. "A gift for your parents is filial piety, yes. But a gift for your husband? That's love. Even if it's something simple-embroidering a handkerchief, stitching a purse-he'll cherish it."
Yunzhu didn't look convinced. If anything, she seemed utterly unimpressed by the idea.
But two days later, when she visited again, she found Gu Min entirely absorbed, hands deftly working on the summer robe for her brother. Something about the sight made Yunzhu pause. Without much thought, she reached for a piece of soft bamboo-green satin and let out a small huff, finally resolving to embroider something herself. A handkerchief for Cao Xun. The man had given her jewelry, little tokens, deliberate efforts to make her smile-perhaps it was time she offered something in return.
Still, as she sat there staring blankly at the smooth cut of silk, clearly unsure where to begin, Gu Min caught her in the act and laughed softly. "Have you decided what to embroider?"
Yunzhu nodded, albeit hesitantly. "Nothing complicated. No mandarin ducks or intricate twigs-who has the time for all that?"
Gu Min hummed thoughtfully before suggesting, "Then keep it simple. Two auspicious clouds, maybe? Add his initials on the corners. It's subtle, but it symbolizes a pair."
Yunzhu mulled it over and, surprisingly, agreed. It was doable. In her mind, she saw two graceful, ethereal clouds, one large and the other small, softly twined together in delicate harmony.
Reality, however, was an entirely different affair. When the embroidery was done, what should have been clouds had turned into something altogether absurd-two plump, rounded blobs. The bigger one loomed forward, almost dominating the smaller, with an awkward little line connecting the two, like a strange, ill-formed bond.
Yunzhu stared at it in disbelief, lips pursing, and muttered to herself, "Even the immortals would refuse to ride these clouds."
Yunzhu thought about tearing up the handkerchief on the spot before Gu Min caught on, but her hesitation gave her away. Gu Min grabbed it first, turning the embroidered fabric over in his hands with a teasing smile. "How charming," he remarked. "The larger cloud is Duke Dingguo, isn't it? And this smaller one must be you-so sweetly hand-in-hand."
Yunzhu just stood there, lips pressed into a tight line. Infuriating man.
Still, she decided to stick with the handkerchief instead of starting a new one. If Cao Xun dared to laugh at her effort, she swore she wouldn't thread another needle for him as long as she lived.
She didn't want to gift it without the right moment, so she kept the little keepsake hidden, waiting for the Dragon Boat Festival to roll around.
The fifth day of the Lunar New Year came, and Cao Xun swept her away to see the dragon boat races. By afternoon, they'd wandered off to a quiet patch of grass to fly kites, laughing and running like giddy fools. It wasn't until dusk that they finally headed back to the city, stopping for dinner at a fine restaurant before meandering through the lively streets of the capital. The night sky glowed with lanterns, and they took their sweet time, soaking in the magic for nearly an hour.
Yunzhu, for all her love of revelry, was utterly spent. By the time they reached home, her feet ached like hell, and all she wanted was a long bath and a bed.
But Cao Xun, as always, was relentless-his appetite unshakable. As he stepped out of the bath, his intentions were crystal clear.
She shoved at his chest, her voice sharp but breathless. "Aren't you tired yet?"
Cao Xun, of course, hit back with something wicked.
Even after nearly a year of marriage, his words could make her face burn like a teenage girl's. She shot him a look, cheeks pink, and dug beneath her pillow, pulling out the handkerchief. "I have a gift for you," she announced coolly, trying to regain the upper hand. "But there's a condition: if you accept it, you'll listen to me tonight."
Cao Xun eyed the cloth in her hand, unable to make out the details just yet. He quirked a brow, his tone mockingly playful. "Then this gesture must be worth its weight in gold."
Yunzhu's face soured at once. "If you don't want it, fine. Forget it."
But Cao Xun was quick to join her on the bed, snatching the handkerchief from her grip before she could pull it away. His gaze fell first on the two "clouds"-plump, uneven, and endearing in their imperfection-and then on the awkward stitches forming crooked characters in the corner.
His long fingers traced the bumpy embroidery, slow and deliberate. His eyes flicked up to her, full of something infuriatingly tender. "I doubt the entire capital could produce an embroiderer with this level of craftsmanship. You've really put your soul into this, haven't you?"
Yunzhu stared daggers at him, her cheeks blazing. "..."
She lunged for the handkerchief, but Cao Xun was quicker. He caught her around the waist and pressed her into his embrace, his lips grazing the curve of her neck. "It's rare to see you take up needlework," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Did you prick your delicate little hand doing this?"
Feigning martyrdom, Yunzhu held out her finger with exaggerated dramatics. "I did. It bled everywhere."
Cao Xun seized her hand without warning, his thumb grazing her palm. "Funny. I thought you held the needle with your left hand when you embroider."
Yunzhu froze. Damn him.
"Does it still hurt?" he pressed, voice silken.
"It doesn't," she muttered, glaring down at him.
His smirk deepened as he kissed the offended fingertip, dragging her closer with maddening ease. "Good. Because I think tonight, my lady, there's still quite a bit of 'mending' left to do."
In the flickering glow of the night's candlelight, Cao Xun took her supposedly "wounded" finger with deliberate ease, his gaze locking onto hers in a way that sent a slow heat crawling up her spine. Those eyes of his were sharp, steady, and far too knowing-reflecting the firelight as if he were holding a secret only she could unravel.
Yunzhu thought, for someone like him, such playful theatrics were utterly beneath his dignity. And yet, every last one of her fingers had been claimed by his lips that evening, each kiss unhurried and sinful in its intent, leaving her skin tingling long after he'd pulled away. Sleep? That was an elusive luxury she didn't manage to find until nearly the second watch, when exhaustion finally claimed her.
When the sun crept into the room the next morning, Yunzhu stirred and found him there-Cao Xun, seated casually at the edge of the bed, his long leg bent with that infuriating handkerchief perched on his knee. He held it as though it were a puzzle he was unraveling, his brow drawn just enough to betray thoughtfulness.
Before she could even study his expression further, he glanced up, catching her mid-observation. That unnervingly piercing look flickered over her face for just a moment before he tucked the handkerchief away and asked, voice low and deliberate, "Do you plan on leaving the city today?"
Still half-lost in the haze of lingering sleep and a night spent restless, Yunzhu let her lids flutter shut again. Her voice came out soft, almost feeble, though she couldn't quite hide the subtle pull of lingering satisfaction in her tone. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be staying right here... at home."
*
Unlike the rejuvenated Cao Xun, Emperor Yuan Qing found himself struck down during the two days of the Dragon Boat Festival, a mere chill on the wind creeping into his body and throwing him off balance. A little cold might seem harmless enough, but when it digs in with its claws, it can become a miserable affair-one that left the Emperor languid, heavy-headed, and stripped of all his strength.
Don't underestimate the bite of wind and cold; minor as it seems, it becomes a grave matter when it's the ruler of the realm on his back. The imperial physicians knew this well. Not a single one dared indulge in festivities, lingering anxiously at the palace with sleeves rolled up and hearts gripped tight.
Two days of bitter medicine, two days of no relief. At his wit's end, Emperor Yuan Qing summoned Tong Yuan-the Taoist priest he'd showered with favor these last two years-and wasted no time demanding an elixir. Sleep? Impossible, not with his temples throbbing and his bones aching.
There was a special alchemy chamber in the palace, and Tong Yuan swept into it at once, his sleeves fluttering, his hands eager to mix a remedy fit for an emperor. Meanwhile, the imperial hospital delivered their routine night decoction.
The Emperor scowled at the bitter bowl and shook his head. "Your medicine's useless. I've called for a Taoist's elixirs."
Doctor Deng, steady and unshaken, pleaded, "Your Majesty, wind-chill doesn't bow out in a day or two. The elixirs of the master may promise longevity, but they will not banish this ailment."
Unimpressed but too drained to argue, Emperor Yuan Qing swallowed the dark, acrid medicine, wincing with every drop. Sleep finally swept over him.
Two restless hours later, he woke abruptly, rubbing his pounding temples and hissing for his eunuch. "Wan Gonggong, where's the master's elixir?"
Eunuch Wan, ever dutiful, replied softly, "Your Majesty, Tong Yuan sent over Qi-nourishing pills half an hour ago, but seeing you resting, we dared not disturb your slumber."
"Bring them here."
Eunuch Wan fetched the box, presenting the little golden pills-each one the size of a longan-and the Emperor swallowed one without hesitation. He fell back onto the silken pillows, his mind drifting reluctantly toward the upcoming court session. If he didn't recover soon, he'd be forced to face his officials in this pitiful state. Worse still, rumors would fly-whispers of him indulging too heavily with his concubines instead of attending to state matters.
Drained and unsettled, the Emperor drifted off again. Outside the chamber, Eunuch Wan, his bones aching with age, reclined wearily, leaving his spry eighteen-year-old godson to stand watch.
The boy, himself spent from a day of ceaseless errands, dared to lean against the edge of the dragon couch for a brief respite, dozing lightly-until a sudden, chilling yank jolted him awake.
His eyes flew to the dragon bed. In the faint, flickering light of the dying lamps, Emperor Yuan Qing was staring at him-wide-eyed, unblinking, as though desperately trying to say something.
A cold sweat broke over the young eunuch's back. Panic-stricken, he shouted for help. Eunuch Wan stumbled into the room, Li Yao-on duty that night-close behind.
But the Emperor's lips were silent, his breath ragged, his chest rising and falling like a laboring bellows. He knew there was no time-no imperial doctors, no high ministers-only young Li Yao by his side. With a trembling grip, he seized Li Yao's hand and, with fading strength, traced the word "two" into his palm. Once. Twice. A third time.
Li Yao's blood ran cold. The Emperor, for all his stature, had been a kind elder to him through the years. And now, as the boy grasped what the message meant, his stunned eyes darted to the man before him.
A flicker of understanding seemed to pass between them-relief, regret, or both-as the Emperor's last vestige of strength drained from him. His hand fell away, limp, lifeless.
Emperor Yuan Qing, at just forty-two, slipped from this world on the seventh day of the fifth lunar month, as the clock ticked mercilessly into mid-afternoon.
From deep within the palace, the solemn toll of the death knell rang out-low, sonorous, and unrelenting. It carried across the stillness of the city, rousing the officials and chilling the hearts of the people. The Emperor, their ruler, was gone.