Grand Tutor’s Residence, West Courtyard Hengwu Pavilion
Hengwu Pavilion sat at the westernmost edge of the Grand Tutor’s residence, the quietest courtyard in the entire estate.
A cluster of green bamboo grew in the yard, alongside several crabapple trees. In one corner, a trellis of roses bloomed thickly, covering the wall in springtime.
Fu Yunyang’s bedroom was on the second floor.
Opening the window, she could see half the courtyard’s flowers and trees, as well as the crowns of several old scholar trees in the residence’s rear garden.
At the moment, the window was half-open.
A night breeze slipped through the gap.
A colored-glass lamp burned on the table, casting a warm golden glow that filled the room with gentle comfort.
Fu Yunyang reclined against her bed.
She had changed into a moon-white sleeping robe embroidered with faint orchid patterns along the collar and cuffs.
Her long black hair was loose, spread across the pillow, making her face appear even smaller.
Two cushions were stacked behind her back, with an extra layer of silk padding beneath them.
Xiaodie had been worried she might not be comfortable and practically wanted to turn the entire bed into a pile of cotton.
In her hands was a book.
The cover was already worn and curling at the edges.
Two characters were written on it:
“Strange Tales.”
She had read it countless times.
The pages had yellowed with age, and the corners were frayed.
Yet she never grew tired of it.
Every so often, she would take it out and read it again.
Xiaodie entered carrying a bowl of medicine.
It had just been brewed and was still steaming.
The room immediately filled with its bitter scent.
She set the bowl on the bedside table and placed a dish of candied fruit beside it.
It was Osmanthus-preserved fruit, Fu Yunyang’s favorite.
“Miss, the medicine is ready.”
Xiaodie spoke softly.
“Please drink it while it’s hot. It’ll taste even more bitter once it cools.”
“Mm.”
Fu Yunyang answered quietly.
But she didn’t immediately put down her book.
Her eyes remained fixed on the page.
Xiaodie didn’t urge her.
She simply stood beside the bed and waited, quietly closing the window a little more.
Fu Yunyang turned a page and softly read aloud:
“The scholar asked, ‘Why must you leave so early?’
The maiden replied, ‘I travel through the night because I am a flower spirit. Should the morning sunlight shine upon me, my form would scatter and disappear. Thus I come by night and depart at dawn.'”
Her pronunciation was clear.
The end of her sentence lifted slightly, as though she were savoring the words.
“‘I come by night and depart at dawn.'”
She repeated the line.
Standing nearby, Xiaodie tilted her head thoughtfully.
“Miss.”
She blinked.
“Now that I think about it, you’re actually quite a lot like that flower spirit.”
Fu Yunyang paused and looked up in surprise.
“Like what?”
“Like a flower spirit, of course.”
Xiaodie began counting on her fingers.
“Look. The flower spirit comes out at night and leaves when daylight arrives.”
“You only come outside when the weather’s nice enough for a little sunshine, and the moment the wind starts blowing, you go right back inside.”
“The flower spirit fears sunlight. You fear catching a chill.”
“Isn’t that practically the same thing?”
Fu Yunyang stared for a moment before laughing softly.
“What kind of logic is that?”
Her gaze returned to the page.
Yet the smile lingered at the corners of her lips.
“The flower spirit is a spirit. I’m a person. How are we alike?”
“But you’re beautiful, Miss!”
Xiaodie replied matter-of-factly.
“Flower spirits in books are always incredibly beautiful. Things like ‘peerless beauty’ and ‘heart-stealing charm’ aren’t those descriptions talking about you?”
“The last time we were at Peach Blossom Cove, I even overheard someone saying, ‘That young lady is so beautiful. I wonder whose daughter she is.'”
“Enough, enough.”
Fu Yunyang laughed again.
She gently tapped the back of Xiaodie’s hand.
“The more you talk, the more ridiculous you’re becoming.”
“I’m just a sickly person. How could I possibly deserve words like ‘peerless beauty’?”
The smile on Xiaodie’s face faltered.
Her heart suddenly ached.
She quickly lowered her head and picked up the medicine bowl, swallowing down the bitterness in her chest.
“Miss isn’t sickly.”
She muttered stubbornly.
“You’re only a little weak. You’ll get better if you keep taking care of yourself.”
“Didn’t the physician say so?”
“As long as you take your medicine and rest properly, you’ll gradually recover.”
Fu Yunyang didn’t respond.
She slipped a bookmark between the pages, closed the book, and placed it beside her pillow.
Then she accepted the medicine bowl with both hands.
Looking down at the dark-brown liquid inside, she saw her own reflection wavering in the surface.
Blurred.
Indistinct.
“Little Butterfly.”
“I’m here.”
“At Peach Blossom Cove today…”
She raised the bowl and gently blew on the steaming medicine.
The rising mist softened her features.
“You heard what those young ladies were saying, didn’t you?”
Xiaodie’s back stiffened.
“…I heard some of it.”
She quickly added:
“But Miss, please don’t take it to heart. They’re only gossiping. None of it means anything.”
“Especially Miss Qiu. That’s just how she is. She’s sharp-tongued, but she doesn’t actually mean any harm…”
“I know.”
Fu Yunyang interrupted gently.
“She’s right.”
Xiaodie froze.
“Which… which part is right?”
Fu Yunyang stared into the medicine for a long time.
Finally, she spoke.
“She said this engagement should be called off.”
“She’s right.”
“A family like the Shen family… a man like Young Master Shen…”
“With a body like mine, marrying into their household would only become a burden.”
“Miss!”
Xiaodie’s eyes instantly reddened.
Her voice cracked with emotion.
“How can you say that?”
“You’re not a burden!”
“You’re the cherished daughter of the Grand Tutor’s household! Raised like precious jade and gold!”
“Anyone who marries you would be blessed for eight lifetimes!”
“As for that Shen Jinghong what is he? He’s ”
“Xiaodie.”
Fu Yunyang called her name softly.
The words died instantly on Xiaodie’s lips.
Her mouth trembled.
Tears shimmered in her eyes.
Fu Yunyang looked at her.
Her gaze was gentle.
No anger.
No resentment.
No complaint.
As though she had quietly accepted every unpleasant thing life had given her.
“The medicine is getting cold.”
She lowered her head and brought the bowl to her lips.
Slowly, sip by sip, she drank it.
It was bitter.
Very bitter.
She drank carefully.
After each mouthful, she paused, waiting for the taste to fade before taking another.
Xiaodie stood beside her, biting her lip and struggling not to cry.
When the bowl was finally empty, Fu Yunyang handed it back.
Then she picked up a piece of osmanthus-preserved fruit and placed it in her mouth.
Sweetness gradually spread across her tongue, slowly washing away the lingering bitterness.
Closing her eyes briefly, she leaned back against the cushions.
“Xiaodie.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Could you hand me that book again?”
She pointed toward Strange Tales beside her pillow.
A trace of weariness had entered her voice.
“I’d like to read a little longer.”
Xiaodie hesitated.
“Miss, you should rest. It’s already late, and your health…”
“Just a little longer.”
Fu Yunyang rarely pleaded.
“Just until I finish the flower spirit story.”
“Then I’ll sleep.”
Looking into those eyes
clear, calm, impossibly gentle
Xiaodie couldn’t bring herself to refuse.
“…Alright.”
She sighed.
Handing over the book, she tucked the blanket higher around Fu Yunyang’s shoulders.
“Just a little while.”
“I’ll stay here with you and leave after you’ve fallen asleep.”
“Mm.”
Fu Yunyang reopened the book and found the bookmarked page.
Her eyes moved slowly across the lines.
“The scholar wept bitterly and begged her to stay.
The flower spirit said, ‘Have you not heard? Humans and spirits walk different paths. They cannot be together.’
The scholar replied, ‘I do not care whether you are human or spirit. I only know that I love you.’
The flower spirit remained silent for a long time.
Then tears fell from her eyes like rain.”
She stopped reading.
“‘Humans and spirits walk different paths. They cannot be together.'”
She repeated the line.
Then she closed the book and placed it beside her pillow.
Her eyes drifted shut.
“Miss?”
Xiaodie called softly.
“Mm.”
“What are you thinking about?”
Silence lingered.
Then Fu Yunyang answered slowly, her eyes still closed.
“I was wondering…”
“When the scholar said, ‘I don’t care whether you’re human or spirit. I only know that I love you’…”
“Why did the flower spirit cry?”
Xiaodie thought for a moment.
“Maybe she was moved by his sincerity?”
Fu Yunyang gently shook her head.
The movement was tiny.
“No.”
Her voice was soft.
“She knew how the story would end.”
“Humans and spirits walk different paths. No matter how much they love each other, it changes nothing.”
“The scholar says he doesn’t care.”
“But one day, he will grow old, while she remains forever young.”
“He will fall ill, while she remains forever healthy.”
“He will look at her face and realize that his own hair has turned white, while she looks exactly as she did the day they first met…”
She paused.
Then quietly asked:
“At that point…”
“Would he still say he didn’t care?”