Sui Sui’s eyes flew wide open. Suddenly, like a flash of insight, she understood. Gritting her teeth, she said word by word: “Because of last night, isn’t it? Your Highness is angry, so you want to sell me. As for the jewelry, you already knew. Today you staged this, had Madam Xia accuse me, all just to sell me!”
No wonder it was today.
No wonder that servant appeared out of nowhere.
Li Chongjun lifted his head, not even looking at her, still calmly admiring his painting.
Sui Sui trembled all over, tears rippling in her eyes: “If Your Highness hates me, beat me, kill me, do as you wish. Why make me live worse than death! You are a prince, son of the emperor—my life is but a word to you. Why go to such lengths to humiliate me? Am I not human? A brothel—”
She had never been inside one, but she had seen a troupe sister dying of venereal disease, covered in sores, shoved into a coffin before she even stopped breathing.
Sui Sui could not go on. She broke down, sobbing. Attendants, fearing she might harm herself, rushed forward to hold her shoulders. She stared at the white walls, crying in despair, wishing for death. But soon she realized—worse than dying was being unable to die.
If she died, no one would care for Cui Qiao. And if word spread that she had died in Prince Wei’s household, Cui Qiao would never touch the money she had left behind.
Gao Lang kept silent, hands folded. Madam Xia frowned for a long time, then hesitantly spoke: “Your Highness… please reconsider. This girl deserves death, but our household has bought people, never sold them. If others learn of this, won’t they laugh?”
Li Chongjun ignored her and waved for everyone to leave.
Sui Sui was utterly hopeless. She grew strangely calm. No more tears. Her peach-blossom eyes were swollen, empty of joy or sorrow. She smiled faintly: “If Your Highness wants revenge, I’ll give you a way—sell me far away, what will you see? Better to sell me right here in Liangzhou, into a brothel. Let men defile me before your eyes, as many as you wish, however you wish—”
At least then she would remain in Liangzhou. Perhaps she could still reach Cui Qiao.
But Li Chongjun flared like a cat whose tail was stepped on, shouting: “Nonsense!” He glared at her, then barked for her to be dragged away.
Sui Sui grew dizzy, biting her lip until it bled, but said nothing. She was hauled to the side gate, about to be shoved into a cart—when a little maid came running through the corridor. It was Xiao Yu.
Crying “Mistress!” she rushed forward, only to be blocked by two servants and fall to the ground.
Madam Xia, following behind, signaled the servants to release Sui Sui for the moment. The two girls clung to each other, Xiao Yu sobbing uncontrollably. Sui Sui wept too, but as she leaned close, she whispered into Xiao Yu’s ear the secret place where she had hidden her savings.
“I have two strings of cash each month, all cleanly saved. I can’t use it now, so I’ll leave it for you. Don’t cry, don’t cry—listen to me. Find it quickly and hide it, or if they discover it, they’ll take it for themselves.”
That was all Sui Sui left for Xiao Yu.
In poetry, farewells are long pavilions, ancient roads, boats urged to depart, willows swaying. But Sui Sui did not understand such things. She knew she was exactly as Li Chongjun saw her—vulgar, petty, greedy for money. She knew he despised her, despised her dirty past. The worst ending she had imagined was death. She had not expected Li Chongjun to be so cruel.
Before leaving, she bowed her head to Madam Xia. The woman who had cursed her as a fox spirit for two years was, in the end, the only one to show her a shred of care.
Then, two servants shoved her into a carriage.
The driver wore short black clothes. It was drizzling; he wore a bamboo hat. Sui Sui thought he looked familiar, but, boarding in haste, she hadn’t time to see clearly.
The rain grew heavier, pounding down in chaos.
The wheels rattled on, carrying her through the dreary rain for a day and a night. Sui Sui drifted in and out, shedding no more tears, only plotting escape. But no plan came. When the carriage stopped, she thought they had reached the broker’s house. Yet when she stepped down, she saw only a narrow alley’s end, a black-lacquered gate, leading into a small gray-brick courtyard, grapevines budding green on the trellis. It did not look like a broker’s place at all.
“What… what is this place?” she asked the servants, but no one answered.
Fearful that it was a hidden brothel, she entered trembling. From behind a curtain, she heard coughing.
Startled, she rushed inside. On a couch sat a woman in a long blue shirt and a white skirt, coughing endlessly, with a servant in green beside her.
“Cui… Cui Qiao!” Sui Sui was aghast. She had never told Li Chongjun she had kin, yet clearly he knew. She ran to Cui Qiao, too shaken to speak, then turned to shield her. She had not eaten for a day and night, disheveled, wild-eyed, like a cat with its fur on end.
“You—you, what are you trying to do! What is Li Chongjun planning? What crime have I committed so unforgivable that killing me isn’t enough—you would drag my sister into this too!”
“Little sister…” Cui Qiao seemed startled by her outburst, but as soon as she spoke, she began coughing again.
The carriage driver removed his bamboo hat, revealing a lean face. It was Gao Cheng.
Li Chongjun’s trusted aide—how had he been reduced to driving a cart to sell people? Sui Sui was stunned.
Cui Qiao finally caught her breath and said softly: “Don’t wrong them, sister. That man in blue brought me here, saying Prince Wei sent you to settle in Dunhuang, and brought me too, so we could meet. But you… how did you end up like this?”
She pulled out a towel to wipe the rain from Sui Sui’s clothes. Sui Sui was dumbfounded, speechless for half a day.
At last, Gao Cheng, unable to wait, spoke quietly: “There are too many eyes in the household, not all loyal to His Highness. In these troubled times, after two years with him, leaving now might not be clean. So he staged a show for them. This house has been purchased, and the deed given to Miss Cui. You may live here. But His Highness is returning to Chang’an. The mountains are high, the roads long—be careful, take care of yourself.” He finished, not waiting for Sui Sui’s reply, and left. Three servants followed, one leaving a bundle on the couch before departing.
Outside, wind and rain raged. Sui Sui felt as though she had been galloping through a storm, only to be thrown from the horse, dazed and bewildered. She seemed like a patient, supported by Cui Qiao to sit on the couch. Her hand fell on the bundle—inside was something hard. She thought it was only her clothing. But when she opened it, beneath two handkerchiefs gleamed a golden light.
She tipped the bundle, and with a clatter, countless gold ingots spilled across the bed. She had never seen so much gold. Eyes wide, she covered her mouth. After a breathless pause, she lifted her skirt and ran out into the rain. Outside, the downpour roared, no lightning, no thunder, only the endless drumming of rain, mist rising white, drowning all sound of the world.
The alley was empty, even the wheel tracks washed away, as if erasing a dream.
Awake, turning back—nothing remained.
Li Chongjun no longer looked at paintings. He sat at his desk reading letters. Spring had come; the cotton curtains had been replaced with bamboo blinds. Rain blew in, tiger-striped patterns on the floor, his shadow cast tall and straight, the broad shoulders and slim back of youth.
Gao Cheng returned from Dunhuang to report.
Li Chongjun’s face was expressionless, neither joy nor sorrow. He had endured too many farewells. Since age six, when he knelt in the Buddha hall for seven days and nights, he could not keep his dying mother alive.
He had never been able to keep anyone. Least of all such a woman.
He did not care.
Reading the last line, Li Chongjun folded the thin letter, held it to the lamp, and burned it. He said lightly to Gao Cheng: “Take down that painting behind me.”
“Yes.”
He rose and left the study: “Keep it, but don’t let me see it again.”
“…Yes.”