This was a little scary!
Zhao Xiaojin froze for a moment before remembering she was still sitting on his bed, and quickly tried to get up and put some distance between them. In her hurry, though, she forgot that beds in ancient times had a small step-stool at the foot, and stepped right into empty air, nearly losing her footing.
Fortunately, she’d practiced dance for several years, so her balance held.
Just as she was relieved about that, Zhao Xiaojin heard a soft “pfft” of laughter. It wasn’t loud, but it was more than enough to draw attention, especially since that laugh was very likely aimed at her.
But this wasn’t the time to worry about that. The little monk was awake now, and surely the people outside would want to know right away.
Ignoring her now-reddening face, Zhao Xiaojin kept her head down and headed straight for the door.
“Hey, wait—” Behind her, the little monk was calling out, but by then Zhao Xiaojin’s hand was already on the door latch.
Yin Cheng, having just woken, hadn’t even had time to make sense of everything in front of him before he was surrounded by a crowd of people. All he could recall was that this wasn’t the first time he’d woken at this particular hour, except each time before, it had felt like a last flare before death, and then he’d plunged back into darkness just as quickly.
But none of those previous times had there been a girl in red sitting at the foot of his bed.
Who was she?
No one could answer the question in Yin Cheng’s mind. The imperial physicians were all busy with their own business, occasionally asking him a question or two.
“Eleventh Prince, do you feel any discomfort anywhere?” The physician, his face completely obscured, checked the prince’s pulse and studied his complexion on the bed. Finding nothing different from before, he asked the question.
“Discomfort?” What kind of question was that, he wasn’t a physician himself, how would he know where something was wrong?
Although something felt off to Yin Cheng, he took a moment to check in with his own body. He shifted his feet beneath the blanket, aside from feeling a bit weaker, everything seemed as usual. He pulled his hand out from under the blanket as well, just as thin as before, barely any flesh on it.
“Just feeling a bit weak, otherwise, same as always.” He’d been sickly since childhood, which was why his inoculation had been delayed to this age in the first place.
“It’s normal for the Eleventh Prince to feel a bit weak, having slept this long this time.” The physician offered his reassurance, then went off to write a prescription.
For a while, people came and went through the room, and Zhao Xiaojin was pushed all the way into the farthest corner. No one seemed to mind her being in the way, but no one paid her any attention either. Small as she was, she leaned against the corner of the wall, breathing in the strange smell that filled the room, staying quiet.
Until someone appeared before her holding a bowl of something pitch-black.
It seemed that, without her noticing, nearly everyone in the room had already left. Zhao Xiaojin glanced at the bowl, then instinctively looked over at the little monk on the bed. He was being helped to sit up by someone else.
The person in front of her clearly didn’t have much patience left, the moment she looked away toward the bed, her shoulder was bumped, not gently.
“The young master’s waiting for his medicine, what are you dawdling for?” The moment the person with the covered face spoke, Zhao Xiaojin could tell it was a woman.
Even though she still couldn’t understand the words, she could feel the impatience in the woman’s tone. Whether that impatience was directed at her or at the little monk, she could more or less guess, probably mostly at her.
Since the medicine had already been brought right in front of her, going by her own earlier guess, she was probably meant to feed it to him. If she’d guessed wrong, well, no great harm done.
Zhao Xiaojin stepped forward, feeling a bit self-conscious under the eyes of several people, and walked toward the bed.
What she didn’t notice was that the woman holding the medicine, seeing her walk over empty-handed, froze for a moment before falling back in step behind her. Inside, she was cursing up a storm, she’d clearly meant for the little girl to carry the medicine over herself, why was it still sitting in her own hands? Did the girl really think she’d come here to be waited on like some consort enjoying her ease?!
Feeding someone medicine wasn’t something Zhao Xiaojin had ever done before. Once, she’d wanted to feed her little brother his porridge, but she couldn’t even manage to hold the spoon properly before her mother had shooed her away, annoyed. This little monk wasn’t even younger than her, and yet he still needed to be fed, even more pampered than her little brother.
The bowl of medicine was still a bit hot, Zhao Xiaojin touched the rim and immediately pulled her hand back. To be safe, it was probably better not to take it directly, in case she couldn’t hold it steady and spilled it.
“No sense at all, have you? Go fetch another bowl, quickly.” The person standing by the bed suddenly raised her voice.
Zhao Xiaojin thought she was being addressed and looked over, hoping to read something from her expression. Although it was difficult, she managed to meet those eyes. The woman’s voice was sharp and shrill, but from the eyes alone, there was no telling whether she was angry or something else.
So what did she mean by that?
The answer came from the woman holding the medicine bowl beside her. She suddenly seemed to shrink, dropping to her knees.
A sharp sound, Zhao Xiaojin couldn’t quite describe the noise of the woman’s knees hitting the floor, but it startled her all the same. She didn’t even notice that some of the medicine had spilled out and stained the top of her shoe.
“This servant deserves death. This servant will go at once.”
The medicine bowl was left sitting alone on the floor, right by Zhao Xiaojin’s feet. The kneeling woman kowtowed once, then hurried out.
The once-full bowl of medicine was now half empty, a ring of spilled liquid on the clean floor, leaving a scattering of dark, ugly stains.
Zhao Xiaojin looked down at the medicine bowl, then back up at the little monk propped against the headboard, and then at the woman standing by the bed, not sure what to make of any of it. That standing woman had said just one sentence, and the other had immediately dropped to her knees. The little monk must have seen the whole thing, and yet he hadn’t said a single word.
Now, Zhao Xiaojin clearly didn’t know what to do. She felt torn, just standing there didn’t seem right, but crouching down to pick up the medicine bowl didn’t seem like a great idea either.
Fortunately, she was probably just a tool being used to counter bad luck through marriage, if her guess wasn’t wrong. Zhao Xiaojin reassured herself: if a scolding or two was all it took to get through this, then fine, since she couldn’t understand any of it anyway, they could scold however they liked, as long as no one laid a hand on her.
The more you said, the more mistakes you made, the less you said, the fewer mistakes. She decided not to try guessing anyone’s intentions anymore, sparing herself the trouble of forcing herself to look at the covered-up woman’s expression.
As for the little monk, now that his eyes were open, he was actually rather good-looking. Even though in her head she kept calling him “the little monk,” his status surely wasn’t simple.
From the fact that he hadn’t said a single word through all this, it was clear that whatever this person around him had just done was probably a regular occurrence, otherwise he wouldn’t have simply watched someone drop to their knees with a “clap” like that, unbothered.
Definitely not a good person.
The person who’d already left seemed like she’d never come back. In the room, the remaining three, some sitting, some standing, fell into complete silence for a while.
The three of them seemed frozen in place, none of them willing to be the one to break the standoff.
Ever since waking, Yin Cheng had been fielding the physician’s questions, and had roughly figured out what time it was now. He’d been asleep for nearly three days, no wonder his whole body felt sluggish and listless, let alone able to move much.
As for figuring out who this girl in red actually was, there wasn’t much point. She was almost certainly just some girl brought in to counter his bad luck through marriage, his mother had entertained that idea for years already. This was simply her seizing the chance while he was asleep to bring the girl right in front of him.
No need to think about it any further. His stomach was growling, aside from that bowl of medicine, which he had no interest in, he’d eat as much of anything else as he could get. He had no energy to spare worrying about this silent little girl, even though her presence was, admittedly, having some effect on him.
“Xiaohai, forget the medicine, go rustle up something to eat, I’m starving.” Right now, nothing mattered more than filling his stomach.
“The young master’s hungry? That’s Xiaohai’s fault, I’ll go at once.” The man who called himself Xiaohai bowed and spoke in a low, gentle voice. Even without seeing his expression or understanding his words, Zhao Xiaojin could sense the barely-contained joy in his tone.
Before leaving, the man didn’t forget to also pick up the medicine bowl off the floor. As he stood, he shot Zhao Xiaojin, standing there like a wooden post, a not-so-subtle glare.
How rude.
Zhao Xiaojin caught the look, but only dared to secretly stick her tongue out behind her back.
“It’ll be a while yet before the food arrives. Come sit, let’s talk.” Yin Cheng had caught that little pout, this girl had more nerve than he’d expected. With no one else around, he figured he’d take the chance to feel her out.
Except, all she did was stare at him, staring wasn’t going to make flowers bloom out of him.
“Come here, I want to ask you something.” Could it be she didn’t understand Manchu? Yin Cheng waved her over.
Seeing the little monk call to her with such an unmistakable gesture, Zhao Xiaojin figured there was no mistaking his meaning. So she stepped back up onto the little stool and sat down at the edge of the bed where he’d patted.
“How old are you this year? Where are you from? Banner or Han? Do you know why you’re here?” Yin Cheng switched to Mandarin, since she hadn’t reacted at all to Manchu, which meant she was probably from a Han family.
When the girl had walked over earlier, he’d noticed her feet weren’t bound. That wasn’t in keeping with most Han customs, but it had been many years since the Qing had entered the pass, and unbound Han daughters were no longer rare.
Being observed like this, Zhao Xiaojin had no such thoughts running through her head. She just felt like the way people here spoke sounded like a foreign language, completely incomprehensible. Now that the little monk was speaking, it did feel slightly more familiar, but still not quite right, like listening to a dialect, where what she thought she heard and what the other person actually meant could be worlds apart.
She’d gone so long without speaking, only ever listening to others, that she’d nearly forgotten she could talk at all. But what was the point of speaking anyway, the little monk wouldn’t understand her either.
“Why aren’t you talking? Don’t want to, or don’t want to be here?” Yin Cheng softened his voice, not out of interrogation, just wanting to talk with the little girl, and maybe find out along the way what had brought about his waking up this time.
So far, aside from hunger, he didn’t feel like he couldn’t hold on. To say all of this had something to do with this little girl, that, he wasn’t ready to believe.
The little monk’s voice, suddenly turned gentle, sounded just like the tone her mother used to coax her little brother to sleep, a sound Zhao Xiaojin had once overheard while eavesdropping outside her brother’s door.
She used to envy that.
Now, hearing a similar tone directed at her, with the little monk looking at her with such warm, encouraging eyes, she suddenly felt that this little monk shouldn’t be lying in bed with his eyes closed. If her purpose really was to chase away his bad luck, then let the little monk grow up safe and sound.
“What are you thinking about, so lost in thought?” This little girl had drifted off right in front of him.
Yin Cheng waved a hand in front of her face to bring her back to her senses.
Snapping out of it, Zhao Xiaojin smiled without quite meaning to.
Yin Cheng watched the little girl’s eyes curve, the corners of her mouth lifting to reveal two deep dimples. He couldn’t think of any line of poetry to describe it, he only felt that something this pure and lovely deserved to be carefully treasured.
Zhao Xiaojin looked at him, then held out both hands, palms down, and slowly moved them apart to either side. Then she lowered one hand while pressing the other firmly downward.
This was sign language for “wishing you peace and safety”, she’d used it before in a group performance, and had remembered it ever since.
Yin Cheng remembered her smile, and also caught the gesture that followed. He frowned, though he didn’t understand what she was trying to convey, he did understand another layer of meaning behind the gesture itself.
Which meant, was this girl mute?!