Outside the window lattice, fine snowflakes drifted leisurely down.
Su Yao was stunned, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of the blue porcelain teacup. The ginseng soup inside had long lost its warmth, turning ice-cold.
“You… know?”
With a thump, Chun Tao knelt straight down on the blue brick floor.
With a tearful voice, she said, “That day when this servant was tidying the dressing case, I saw the young lady hiding the prescription beneath the jewelry box. I truly couldn’t rest easy…”
When the little maid lifted her face, fine droplets clung to her eyelashes, her appearance pitiful in the extreme.
“But this servant swears to heaven, I only copied the prescription before taking it to the pharmacy to inquire. I absolutely didn’t let anyone else see it!”
Su Yao’s thoughts grew momentarily hazy. She sighed and said, “Enough, this matter couldn’t be hidden from you anyway. Does the Chief Grand Secretary know?”
Chun Tao shook her head. “This servant said nothing. I only came in after seeing the Chief Grand Secretary leave.”
“When did he leave?”
“The Chief Grand Secretary set off for the palace at the third quarter of the Hour of the Tiger.”
Chun Tao shuffled forward on her knees. “Young lady, this contraceptive medicine harms the womb the most. Doctor Chen said if taken too much, I’m afraid… I’m afraid it will damage your very foundation. How will you marry in the future?”
“Marry?”
She stared at the pale reflection in the diamond-patterned mirror and gave a light laugh. The person in the mirror had disheveled cloud-like hair, and red marks from last night still imprinted on her collarbone.
“Chun Tao, look at me like this. Am I fit to speak of any future? Who would still marry me?”
Chun Tao finally saw clearly: this Su young lady before her was resolutely unwilling in her heart to become Lu Huaijin’s concubine.
And because of this, she was filled with aversion toward the idea of conceiving a child.
She didn’t understand why the Chief Grand Secretary treated her so well, yet the Su young lady remained as hard-hearted as stone, unmoved all along.
What she feared most was that the Su young lady already had someone in her heart… That must be why she resisted so fiercely…
The little maid trembled all over. Suddenly, she glimpsed a corner of a clay figurine peeking out from a hidden compartment in the dressing table.
In a flash of insight, she seemed to have glimpsed some forbidden truth.
The sky gradually darkened. Chun Tao hurriedly passed through the corner gate.
The last dose of the contraceptive medicine had been used. Now, with the prescription tucked inside her clothes, she headed toward the quietest Jishi Hall in the western part of the city.
As she passed the entrance of Wutong Lane, a man wearing a bamboo hat suddenly bumped into her. Chun Tao lost her balance and nearly fell to the ground.
By the time she steadied herself and tried to get a clear look at the man’s appearance, he had already vanished into the twilight.
Chun Tao’s heart gave a lurch. She hurriedly reached to feel for the pouch inside her clothes.
It was gone!
She didn’t know when she had lost it. Anxiously, she retraced her steps along the way she had come.
In the distance, the pouch embroidered with the character “Tao” now lay quietly amidst a pile of withered leaves.
She rushed over to pick it up, her fingers trembling as she opened the inner hidden pocket.
Thank goodness! Everything was still there!
That night, in the small kitchen, a heavy medicinal smell permeated the air.
Chun Tao crouched before the stove, her eyes fixed on the dark brown liquid bubbling in the earthenware pot.
The medicinal brew gurgled and foamed, emitting a sweet fragrance different from before.
Tonight, the sound of the wind was particularly mournful, howling as it forced its way through the cracks in the windows, wailing and moaning like ghosts and wolves.
Chun Tao felt her scalp prickle, the hairs all over her body standing on end.
Chun Tao had crouched for too long. Her legs had long gone numb, and her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Unconsciously, she ended up dozing off, leaning against the side of the stove.
And at this moment, Lu Huaijin was holding his breath, silently lying in wait atop the roof beam.
Two hours earlier, it was he who had sent someone disguised as a petty thief to snatch Chun Tao’s purse while she was distracted, swapping out that prescription.
Half an hour later, Su Yao sat upright in the room, her gaze hollow as she stared at the amber-colored decoction in the glazed bowl.
The medicine swayed slightly, reflecting her haggard and pale face.
The contraceptive brew was always extremely bitter, but tonight it carried a faint, elusive sweetness of angelica.
She frowned and took a small sip, suddenly feeling a warmth surge in her lower abdomen. The cold pain that had plagued her for months seemed to dissipate somewhat.
Chun Tao noticed her unusual reaction, the candied fruit in her hand still hovering mid-air. “Miss, what’s wrong?”
Su Yao looked at her in confusion. “Did Doctor Chen change the prescription?”
Chun Tao shook her head. “Perhaps the doctor thought the previous formula was too harsh on the body…”
“Maybe so.”
Su Yao jolted awake in the early hours of Yin.
The brocade quilt was filled with a familiar scent of cedar. She felt a hand resting on her flat abdomen and, upon looking, realized it was Lu Huaijin.
Sensing her movement, Lu Huaijin did not open his eyes but merely tightened his grip slightly.
“This is the newly-tribute mist silk from Jiangnan. It would look beautiful on you. I brought it especially for you.”
Su Yao frowned slightly, the faint taste of medicine still lingering in her mouth.
“Sir, you really didn’t need to personally deliver it. Such tribute goods aren’t suitable for someone of my status to wear.”
Lu Huaijin instantly opened his eyes, his gaze dark and profound as he looked at her.
He gripped Su Yao’s chin, his thumb roughly brushing over her pale lips. “Su Yao, do you want status?”
Su Yao quickly shook her head. “How could I mean that?”
Trapped between the bed and his chest, the bronze mirror reflected the tangled hems of their garments.
“Then what did you mean by your words just now?”
Lu Huaijin’s voice was calm, but the breath he exhaled instantly warmed Su Yao’s cheeks.
“I can’t give you status right now. Everyone in the court knows I am not yet married. If I rashly bring you into my household, it would invite criticism, and some might even submit memorials accusing me of lacking virtue. In my current position, I am surrounded by watchful eyes. The slightest misstep could lead to my downfall.”
He paused, his calloused fingertip brushing over the bruise on the side of her neck—a mark he had left earlier.
“Wait a little longer… As for Chuyao, I will find a suitable opportunity to explain everything to him in the future.”
Su Yao bit her lip lightly.
She was merely an unworthy plaything—how could she care about status?
Her heart pounded, unable to understand why Lu Huaijin was suddenly saying these things.
She worried whether the prescription hidden in the secret compartment had been discovered.
Or had the clay figurine gifted by Lu Chuyao been found?
No! Impossible!
She told herself that Lu Huaijin couldn’t have discovered it.
Given his temper, if he had truly found out, he would have already flown into a rage.
Outside the window, a cold crow startled, and she suppressed the unease in her heart. “Lu Huaijin, what I want, you cannot give.”
Before she could finish, Lu Huaijin suddenly bit her lip, the taste of blood spreading between their mouths.
He lifted her chin, forcing her to bear his anger.
“Su Yao, it’s been three years. I thought you would have learned to behave by now.”
“If you obey me obediently, I will give you everything you desire.”
Su Yao stared at him wide-eyed. “Everything I desire?”
Lu Huaijin’s gaze was deep.
“Everything.”
Su Yao wasn’t sure whether those words were true or false—would he really give her what she wanted?
What she wanted most was simply to leave him.
Lu Huaijin held her tighter. “Go to sleep early. I have to leave the capital tomorrow morning to take care of some matters.”
“For how long?” Su Yao couldn’t help but ask.
“Just a few days.”
She didn’t know exactly how long “a few days” meant—one day, two days, or even longer?
But she knew Lu Huaijin didn’t want to say more, and she shouldn’t ask further.