Sui Sui didn’t know when she had fallen asleep. When she woke, daylight was already streaming in. The inner chamber was quiet, not a soul around. But as soon as she sat up, two maids appeared from nowhere. They were the same two who had been eavesdropping the night before. Smiling, they said: “Madam Xia said—”
No one but Li Chongjun was allowed to sleep in his bed. Sui Sui thought Madam Xia was about to scold her again, so she pursed her lips in advance. But instead, the maids said: “Madam Xia said you’ve worked hard. She ordered the kitchen to prepare lamb-milk porridge with red dates, for you to eat before you leave.”
Sui Sui was stunned.
She *had* worked hard, though not entirely. To be suddenly treated kindly by Madam Xia left her uneasy. She asked softly: “And His Highness…?”
The maids blushed, lowered their heads, and smiled: “His Highness is well now. Early this morning—he already went out.”
“…”
Sui Sui pretended not to catch their meaning. She glanced around—the bed was spotless, and she herself was neatly dressed in her under-robe.
The maids added: “The bedding and your sweat towel have been taken to be washed.”
“My sweat towel? Why wash my sweat towel?”
The maids paused, their faces lowering further, but their lips twitching with suppressed laughter. Sui Sui froze, then suddenly understood—
Ahhh! That scoundrel Li Chongjun must have used her sweat towel for something indecent, staining it. Wasn’t he supposed to be fastidious? Why didn’t he use his own?
“When it’s washed, it will be returned to you.”
“…I don’t want it.” Sui Sui pouted. After finishing the bowl of lamb-milk porridge, she hurriedly fled the main chamber and slipped back to her own courtyard.
When she returned, Xiao Yu was drying millet under the sunlit corridor.
Winter sunlight cut across the eaves, half bright, half shadow. Xiao Yu, bundled in a thick cotton jacket, crouched on the ground, slowly spreading out the golden heap of millet like flowing sand.
It was an ordinary winter morning. The gasps, the fluids, the rising and falling, bodies pressed together in a muddy swamp, all of last night seemed absurd, like a dream.
Li Chongjun, being so proud, must surely regret it. Perhaps he would even blame her—accuse her of shamelessly sleeping in his bed, making him lose control and betray Miss Yi. In any case, Sui Sui didn’t see him for another month. People said he was busy again, though no one knew with what.
In her courtyard stood a pear tree. In winter, its leaves had fallen, snow piled thick upon it. When the weather warmed, the snow thinned bit by bit; finally, a light rain melted it away. Cold droplets rolled down from the eaves, from the branches, gathering in the grooves of the stone slabs, flowing out in a trickle.
The messenger from Chang’an arrived once more. With him came the imperial decree, arranging Prince Wei’s return to the capital.
It was a drizzling morning. Sui Sui passed beneath the pear tree with her oil-paper umbrella and saw fresh green buds sprouting among the bare branches.
She knew Li Chongjun would return to Chang’an. And she, too, would have to leave. Before stepping back, she had only one more thing to do.
On the fourth day of the third month, Li Chongjun hosted a banquet at the prince’s residence—both a farewell and a gesture of thanks to those who had visited during his illness.
Now that the emperor had summoned him back to Chang’an and with his future bride from the illustrious Yang clan of Hongnong, his status was transformed. From governors and prefects down to county magistrates, all came with rich gifts, respectful and eager. Even the military governor of Hexi, though absent, sent officials to congratulate him.
It was said five beauties came along as well—farewell gifts for Li Chongjun. A military governor was a powerful frontier lord, both relied upon and feared by the emperor. Such gifts were dangerous, especially living ones. Li Chongjun, of course, would not accept them.
Naturally, Sui Sui found herself useful once again.
At the banquet, playing the role of the seductive, malicious concubine—beauty was her weapon. Knowing she might never again have the chance to dress so splendidly, she adorned herself with special care. A peacock robe, a pomegranate-red skirt, layers of embroidered gauze, hidden patterns of gold and silver.
In Chang’an, the fashion was decadent; noblewomen favored vivid colors, and courtesans and favored concubines followed suit. Sui Sui’s skirt was the brightest crimson brocade, dyed again just two days ago—her fingertips were still stained red. Her jeweled hairpiece tilted, clouds of hair swept across her temples, rouge painted thickly up to her eyelids, making her look as though drunk, eyes half-lidded.
The effect was splendid, but also frivolous, almost demonic.
Sui Sui was busy pinning every bit of gold and silver ornament she owned into her hair when a servant arrived, carrying a brocade box. He said it was sent by Prince Wei himself. Opening it, she found an entire set of filigree gold headpieces—hairpins, combs, coronets—set with pearls, dazzling so brightly she had to blink before she could see clearly.
Her eyes widened; just looking at them made her breath catch. “This… what is this for!”
The servant replied: “His Highness said you are to wear them at the banquet.”
Sui Sui clutched her chest: “Then… after the banquet, you’ll come take them back?”
The servant looked puzzled: “His Highness didn’t say to take them back. He only said they were for you to wear.”
Sui Sui gasped. Even after the servant left, she was still dizzy with excitement. Heavens—Li Chongjun was being so generous!
Before leaving, he had given her such precious ornaments to wear. He had never been so lavish before. Though she knew his generosity was likely because of the banquet’s importance, the chance to wear such jewels and shine was still a joy. If she performed her role well tonight, pleased him, perhaps he would even let her keep the ornaments afterward.
In that instant, she forgot all his harshness, his moods, his bad temper, and felt overwhelming gratitude—she wished she could replace the Kitchen God’s tablet with his.
She quickly removed her old trinkets and replaced them with the new headpieces, then, unable to wait another moment, hurried off to thank him.
By evening, after the rain, the sky was dim.
In the melancholy dusk, Sui Sui glittered with jewels, cheerful as she arrived at the main hall. She had barely climbed a few steps when she saw two maids lift the curtain, six servants carrying lanterns before and behind, escorting Li Chongjun out.
Before the banquet, he had to greet distinguished guests, and naturally, he was richly dressed. Standing high on the steps, he wore a dark robe bound with a fragrant sandalwood belt. A servant brought him a crane-feather cloak to don, its silver-gray brocade patterned with faint clouds and water. Though slightly worn, it lent him a refined austerity, softening the sharpness and fierceness of his features. He seemed like an ancient book, kept in a sandalwood box, exuding a faint chill fragrance.
By contrast, Sui Sui looked like a gaudy lantern. Yet she felt no shame. She bowed deeply, smiling brightly: “This concubine greets Your Highness—thank you for your gracious gift!”
After more than a month apart, he was still the same—languid, indifferent. As he passed by her, he reached out and smeared a streak across her rouge-covered face, rubbed his fingertips, gave a faintly disdainful laugh, but said nothing.
He descended the steps, leaving her with a light remark: “Enough. When we reach Chang’an, if you can spare me some disgrace, that will be my good fortune.”
Sui Sui didn’t quite understand, so she interpreted it her own way and quickly replied: “This concubine would not dare! Once Your Highness returns to Chang’an, I will burn incense daily, pray nightly, and from afar bless Your Highness with smooth fortune…”
Before she could finish, Li Chongjun suddenly stopped in his tracks.
He turned, raised his brows at her. There was puzzlement in his gaze, even a hint of surprise.
Sui Sui grew more confused, hastening to explain: “I mean it sincerely! I’ve already decided—once Your Highness departs, I too will leave Liangzhou, go to Zhangye or Dunhuang. No one there knows me, and I will never tell anyone I knew Your Highness. I’ll act as though I never met you…”
She watched his expression shift from confusion to clenched teeth. His brows furrowed, and his dark eyes sharpened like blades.
Panicked, Sui Sui raised three fingers to the sky: “I swear! If I tell even one person, may I break out in boils all over and die miserably—”
But her words trailed off.
Something was wrong. Li Chongjun’s expression was far too frightening.