Yun Qing, clad in plain white garments as pristine as snow, brushed her delicate fingers over the gilded tribute tray held by the maidservant behind her, picked up the single gold arrow resting within it, and handed it to Zhao Si.
Lowering her gaze, Zhao Si saw that the golden arrow was entirely engraved with dragon patterns, its three-sided arrowhead and barbs flashing with a sharp, freezing glint. The shaft was deeply carved with the characters “Jingren” in a blade-like script, and its tail was adorned with gold-threaded artificial fletching that cast a shimmering, dark luster under the candlelight.
What a precious treasure indeed!
Zhao Si extended her hand toward Yun Qing, who delivered the golden arrow into her grip, her fingertips brushing lightly across Zhao Si’s palm.
Zhao Si’s palm trembled and tightened, and in the next instant, she saw Yun Qing gazing at her with tender affection.
Looking up at Yun Qing, Zhao Si’s eyes lit up brighter and brighter, shining time and time again.
The first time they lit up was entirely because Yun Qing had arrived. The second time was because Yun Qing had personally brought back a golden arrow for her. As for the third time, it was simply because Yun Qing had arrived precisely when she was most needed.
Placing the arrow upon the string, Zhao Si turned slightly with fluid, unreadied grace to shield the still-prostrate Tianci at the top of the stairs, and walked side-by-side with Yun Qing until they stood beside Ying’er.
That’s right: Zhao Si was firmly resolved never to let Yun Qing’s eyes be dirtied by such filth again.
Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Yun Qing, the moment they settled in place, Yun Qing suddenly leaned in close, her warm breath brushing softly against Zhao Si’s earlobe.
Zhao Si’s breathing hitched slightly as she heard Yun Qing point toward the golden lotus hanging lantern on the roof of Yulu Pavilion and say, “Husband, shoot that lotus lamp!”
Drawing upon the strength in her arms, Zhao Si pulled the bowstring and loosed the arrow.
The very instant the arrow whistled through the air, Zhao Si heard the thunderous pounding of her own heartbeat echoing within her chest.
In a flash, the golden lotus lamp suspended from the ninth-tier dome came crashing down in response, shattering completely against the floorboards before the accountant. The tilting candlelight spilled outward, merging with the splattered lamp oil to weave into a ferocious serpent of fire, which instantly surged outward to ignite a roaring blaze.
At that exact moment, the clamor filling the entire building ceased abruptly. Yulu Pavilion fell as still as dead ashes, save for the crackling roar of that raging fire.
Zhao Si paid no heed to the fire; she merely lowered her gaze, letting her eyes chase after Yun Qing until she found her own reflection mirrored deep within Yun Qing’s pupils—eyes that blended shock with astonishment.
Sinking into the depths of Yun Qing’s gaze, Zhao Si remained silent, merely using one hand to steady the rigid bow while sliding the other around Yun Qing’s shoulder blades.
Zhao Si’s hand was burning hot, and she could feel that Yun Qing’s shoulders felt somewhat cool. Without a word, she shifted closer behind Yun Qing, tucking her neatly into her own embrace, before sliding her arm downward to clasp Yun Qing’s hand. At that moment, Zhao Si suddenly felt profoundly grateful for her own tall, sturdy frame.
The moment Zhao Si clasped Yun Qing’s hand, Yun Qing broke into a smile. That smile was like spring water breaking through frozen ice.
Zhao Si drowned willingly in Yun Qing’s warmth. Amidst the profound silence, Yun Qing turned her gaze and blinked playfully at Ying’er.
Following that blink, Zhao Si watched as Ying’er stepped forward, bowed to the gathered patrons, and announced in a clear, resonant voice: “Yulu Pavilion houses nine layers of heaven, and upon the ninth heaven hangs a golden lotus. All you honored guests are regular patrons of Yulu Pavilion, and many of you may have heard the legend of how the former Crown Prince once bestowed an arrow upon Yulu Pavilion. The former Crown Prince once declared that if anyone could use the golden arrow of the Prince of Rui to shoot down the golden lotus lamp at the ninth-tier dome of Yulu Pavilion, Yulu Pavilion would grant them three wishes. Now that our groom has shot down this golden lotus lamp, we kindly ask Chief Accountant Cui to fulfill these three wishes on behalf of the master of Yulu Pavilion.”
Clutching his golden abacus and pulling along a young page laden with account books, Accountant Cui strode over to the edge of the fire, bowed in return with a radiant smile plastered across his face, and said, “Miss Ying’er, Cui Qian is here. The master is away traveling and has not yet returned; Cui Qian dares not act presumptuously or decide alone. However, the master did leave word: matters concerning Miss Yun Qing shall be handled with absolute priority. Please state clearly the three wishes the master is to fulfill.”
“We’ve been waiting precisely for these words from you, Chief Cui!” Straightening her back, Ying’er beamed from ear to ear, her voice as sweet as an oriole escaping its valley: “The first wish: please have Yulu Pavilion write off and clear away all the tabs our groom owes at your establishment.”
“Very well!” Cui Qian agreed crisply without a moment’s hesitation. Instantly raising his left hand, he plucked the golden writing brush tucked behind his left ear, whirled around, and heavily slashed it across a blue-bound ledger handed over by the page.
Staring at that heavy stroke, Zhao Si felt as though she herself were that ledger; with Cui Qian’s decisive slash, Yun Qing was instantaneously and completely sealed away into the deepest chambers of her heart. At the same time, out of the corner of her eye, Zhao Si caught sight of the golden lotus lamp burning amidst the flames, with the golden arrow stuck diagonally through the lotus petals.
Gazing intently at that arrow, Zhao Si felt a hazy wave of memories come surging up. Amidst the fragmented imagery, Zhao Si found herself repeatedly focusing on the characters “Jingren” carved into the golden arrow. Flickering alongside “Jingren” came an echo a faint, distant voice murmuring: “Xuguang.”
Could her name actually be Xuguang?
Lost in deep thought over her own name, Zhao Si heard Ying’er’s crisp, cheerful voice ring out once more.
“The second wish: please have Yulu Pavilion return Miss Yun Qing’s contract of indenture.”
“Gladly done.” Beaming broadly, Cui Qian accepted a yellowed, weathered document from the young page, unfurled it, and turned to display it to the crowd.
After the honored guests passed it around for all to inspect, it finally reached Zhao Si’s hands. Zhao Si saw that the contract bore the official seal of the Cengzhou Prefecture and stated that Yun Qing’s original given name was Wang Yujian, a native of the capital. She had been pawned in exchange for a single iron sword and fifty liang of silver, voluntarily indenturing herself to Yulu Pavilion. The signature read: Master of Xuyang Pavilion, Wang Yujian; dated the twenty-third year of Baohao, March.
Returning the contract of indenture to Yun Qing, Zhao Si asked with quiet curiosity, “What year of Baohao is it now?”
Carefully tucking it away to be kept by Yan’er, Yun Qing replied softly to Zhao Si, “It is now the thirty-fourth year of Baohao. In the blink of an eye, Yun Qing has spent eleven years lodging here in Yulu Pavilion. During these eleven years, ever since the very first day she stepped foot into this place, Yun Qing kept thinking that tomorrow someone would surely come to redeem her and help her escape this sea of suffering. Yet, she waited day after day, year after year… In the end, this wait spanned over four thousand days and nights.”
Yun Qing spoke of it with absolute nonchalance, but Zhao Si’s heart twisted as if being wrung by a knife. Her heart ached to think that Yun Qing had wasted thousands of days and nights within the walls of Yulu Pavilion, and she couldn’t help softly calling out: “Yun Qing.”
Lowering her gaze, Yun Qing gently grasped Zhao Si’s thin-callused hand, speaking in a tender murmur, “Husband, this was Yun Qing’s own choice; you do not need to shoulder too much on my account.”
“I am willing.” Zhao Si gripped Yun Qing’s delicate hand back in return, wanting to say more, but the surrounding onlookers who had been watching the excitement suddenly erupted in a noisy commotion.
Those who reacted most fiercely smashed several wine jars and cursed angrily, while those less agitated repeatedly urged the second floor with eager shouts: “Hurry up and get on with it, Miss Ying’er! Quick, state the young lady’s final condition! Don’t delay the grand contest between your young lady and that wretched woman Shi Qing!”
Hearing mention of the grand contest, Zhao Si immediately looked toward Ying’er, only to notice Ying’er repeatedly turning her head back to look at Yun Qing.
Thinking that Yun Qing’s third condition might be exceedingly difficult to deal with, Zhao Si gently tightened her grip on Yun Qing’s hand just as Ying’er glanced back for the fifth time.
Returning the squeeze, Yun Qing paused for a moment, gently withdrew her hand, walked alone to the edge of the fractured staircase, folded her hands within her sleeves, and turned her gaze toward Cui Qian. Replacing Ying’er, she spoke neither humbly nor arrogantly: “The third wish is simply this: starting from today, Yulu Pavilion is to be disbanded and its doors closed for good.”
What?!
Stunned into disbelief, the gathered patrons stared wide-eyed at Yun Qing. When they finally snapped back to their senses, Yulu Pavilion dissolved into total, chaotic uproar once more.
First, a group of people pointed straight at Yun Qing, cursing her for returning kindness with enmity and ignoring the Confucian virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness. Following closely behind were others who tried to persuade Cui Qian not to agree while demanding to know the whereabouts of the Master of Xuyang Pavilion. Finally, a separate faction gathered together to lecture Zhao Si, blaming him for letting muddy, unrefined thoughts corrupt Yun Qing’s mind and driving the fine premier courtesan completely mad.
Amidst the chaotic din of the crowd, Zhao Si standing firmly on the second floor found it hard to believe her own ears. In her estimation, the third condition would at most involve asking Yulu Pavilion to gift them a bounty of gold, silver, and jewels. Who could have imagined that Yun Qing intended to smash Yulu Pavilion’s rice bowl entirely?
“Yun Qing.” Throwing the heavy bow back to Yan’er, Zhao Si stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Yun Qing, rested her chin against the crown of Yun Qing’s head, and lowered her voice to whisper privately into her ear: “Disbanding Yulu Pavilion is a wonderful thing, but doing it so abruptly… might there be some impropriety?”
Yun Qing’s face flushed crimson from Zhao Si’s whispered closeness. She only whispered softly back, “Husband has only just met Yun Qing; perhaps you are still unfamiliar with Yun Qing’s temperament. Since childhood, Yun Qing has been mischievous by nature and loves nothing more than doing things that others deem improper. Once you’ve done enough improper things and look back upon them, they end up becoming entirely proper after all.”
“But… but I worry for you, Wife.” Inhaling the faint medicinal fragrance lingering around Yun Qing, Zhao Si murmured, “The contract of indenture stated that the owner of Yulu Pavilion is someone called the Master of Xuyang Pavilion. No real person actually names themselves ‘Master of’ some pavilion; it’s bound to be an alias. Though my past memories are blank, I vaguely remember that the meaning of ‘Xuyang’ is roughly dawn-light, and dawn-light translates to bright scenery. Qing’er, tell me honestly: is the token of affection you gave me a treasure gifted to you by the Master of Xuyang? Or could Xuyang actually be Jingming?”
The moment Zhao Si uttered the words “Xuyang is actually Jingming,” a mild throb flared across her forehead once more. As the pain intensified, a vague, blurry figure materialized before her eyes a person riding furiously on horseback, shouting out to her: “Xuguang! Shoot! Xuguang!”
So she really was Xuguang!
Enduring the pain and pulling herself together, Zhao Si squinted slightly, striving to make out the rider’s appearance, only to see the scene shift from horseback to inside a massive military tent where the person urged anxiously: “Xuguang, whether you are a man or a woman doesn’t matter. What matters is that by the age of eleven, you could stand on a single foot atop a galloping horse, lie sideways across the saddle, and shoot down a soaring eagle from the grasslands with a single arrow. I ask you: who, having witnessed such a sight, would ever dare refrain from calling you ‘Heavenly Pride’?”
So it was she who had shot down the Chanyu of the Kabudo Left Tribe!
In an instant, Zhao Si firmly grasped the identity of that person it could only be her own birth father. Only a father possessed of such grand, heroic spirit could have concocted this muddled business of dressing her up as a man.
Reflecting upon this, Zhao Si realized her background had suddenly become crystal clear. Realizing she was actually a youthful hero who had slain the Heavenly Pride, Zhao Si was flooded with overwhelming joy. Suppressing her headache, she reached out and pulled Yun Qing close, leaning in gently right beside Yun Qing’s ear to speak with breathless urgency: “Yun Qing, I remember everything now. My name is also Xuguang, and my father used to be a great general. I was never some nameless nobody either. You might not know this, but I went off to the battlefield when I was only eleven years old. I am fully capable of—”
“What?” Turning her head to look at Zhao Si, Yun Qing stiffened her spine slightly, her previously lowered eyelashes trembling as if about to take flight.
“I…” Sweat beaded across Zhao Si’s brow. “What I mean is, I might actually be the Master of Xuyang Pavilion.”
“That is impossible.” Picking up a brocade handkerchief embroidered with wisteria flowers, Yun Qing gently dabbed away the sweat on Zhao Si’s forehead and said with absolute certainty, “The Master of Xuyang Pavilion is over fifty years old. How old is my husband? Please, stop telling such silly stories. As for a military family background—if my husband wishes to hear stories, you can have Yan’er tell you more about her father and elder brothers. Her father resigned his post as the Northern Expedition General in the twenty-second year of Baohao, and her eldest brother followed their father into military service from childhood, capturing the chieftain of the Kabudo Right Tribe alive by the age of fifteen.”
“As for the name ‘Xuguang’ it certainly sounds quite imposing.” Blinking, Yun Qing stood on tiptoe, leaned in close to Zhao Si’s ear, and whispered softly, “If Husband likes it, Yun Qing shall call you Xuguang from now on. How does that sound?”