After speaking with his parents, Chen Jinghan noticed Qing’er was nowhere to be seen. Asking around, he learned she had gone to pack his belongings, so he hurried to find her.
“Qing’er, I’m sorry… the situation at the front is urgent. I must go,” he said, rubbing his large hands, filled with guilt.
Just married, he had to leave his delicate wife behind, and it felt unbearable.
Su Qing’er slowly lifted her head, her voice gentle. “Husband, defending our country is your duty. I understand. You must take care of yourself at the battlefield. I’ll wait for you at home.”
Tears glistened in her eyes, yet she fought hard to keep them from falling.
Chen Jinghan pulled her into a tight embrace. Her slender shoulders trembled as she quietly sobbed.
“Wife, don’t cry. Once I win the battle, I’ll run back to you,” he said, his heart breaking at her sadness. If it weren’t for the people, for the Emperor, he wouldn’t leave her for anything in the world.
He kissed away her tears, bitter and salty, holding her with all his strength, wishing he could take her with him, body and soul.
Su Qing’er wiped her eyes and comforted him in return. “Husband, go without worry. I will honor my in-laws and wait for your return.”
“All right, my dear Qing’er. I’m leaving now,” Chen Jinghan said, turning away to avoid lingering longer than necessary.
“Jinghan!” Qing’er suddenly called out, running into his arms. On tiptoe, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips. This farewell, she did not know when they would meet again.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, returning the kiss with equal intensity, pouring all their separation’s sorrow into that warm, lingering embrace.
Only when someone came urging him did he finally release her, giving her a smile as he rode off without looking back.
Qing’er ran alongside the carriage, seeing her husband ride into the distance, tears slipping down her cheeks again.
“Young Madam, the wind is strong outside. Please go back inside,” Cui’er coaxed, gently leading her home.
Having grown accustomed to the intimate sweetness of married life, Qing’er now felt the emptiness of the house keenly. She sat in a daze, propping her chin in her hands, staring off blankly.
“Young Madam, don’t be sad. General Jinghan will return victorious,” Cui’er tried to cheer her, but Qing’er did not respond, her gaze fixed on the orchid painting she and Jinghan had done together.
Sighing, Cui’er finally left.
Qing’er touched the bedclothes, still imbued with Jinghan’s scent. She had never realized how deeply she could miss someone—the moment he left, longing already consumed her.
Lady Chen’s room was also heavy with gloom. She had planned to go fabric shopping with Aunt Wang but now lacked the mood. She dabbed at her tears, lamenting, “Jinghan has barely been home, and now he’s gone again… who knows when we’ll see him next!”
Aunt Wang comforted her, saying he was going to earn merit at war. Perhaps the Emperor would even reward him. The young man must accumulate military achievements early to bring honor to the family.
After some coaxing, Lady Chen finally smiled a little and agreed to go choose fabrics.
Aunt Wang suggested, “Sister, why not bring your daughter-in-law? They say she is skilled at embroidery. She can also help judge the fabrics.”
At first, Lady Chen hesitated, saying a young girl wouldn’t understand. Aunt Wang persuaded her, and she finally allowed Qing’er to join.
At the shop, Lady Chen and Aunt Wang busied themselves, while Qing’er, still immersed in sorrow over Jinghan’s departure, paid little attention.
Aunt Wang picked up a piece of bluish fabric and walked over. “Qing’er, you’re skilled in needlework, aren’t you? How do you find this fabric?”
“Mother-in-law, this seems to be Huguang silk. It’s perfect for an outer garment—warm in winter, breathable in summer,” Qing’er examined it carefully.
Aunt Wang had hoped to embarrass her but was surprised by Qing’er’s knowledgeable answer.
“You have a good eye. This is indeed Huguang silk, rare and fine,” the shopkeeper said, smiling.
Seeing this, Aunt Wang dismissed it. “The color isn’t grand enough. Let’s look at others.”
Qing’er smiled politely but understood her aunt’s deliberate difficulty. She quietly stepped back, not arguing.
Lady Chen selected two pieces of fabric herself, ignoring Qing’er completely. Aunt Wang no longer bothered with her either.
On the carriage ride home, the two women chatted animatedly while Qing’er quietly endured, her words repeatedly ignored.
Back home, Lady Chen requested tea, leaving Qing’er to stand nearby and listen to their chatter.
Finally, after the meal, she could retreat to her room. Her legs ached terribly, and Cui’er brought hot water for a foot soak.
“Madam, your mother-in-law and aunt were clearly making you work hard. They had you pick fabrics, but in the end…” Cui’er complained.
“Shh! Don’t speak recklessly,” Qing’er warned, peeking outside to make sure no one overheard. She returned, her voice softened. “Cui’er, don’t say such things. They are elders. Serving them is our duty. If you speak like that again, I’ll send you back to the Su household.”
“Young Madam, I understand! I won’t dare again!” Cui’er knelt, tears streaming.
Qing’er helped her up, drying her eyes. “There, there. We’re here now, so we follow the rules. If we act as we did at home, trouble will surely come.”
“I understand, Young Madam. I will remember.”
Once Cui’er left, Qing’er was alone.
A strong sense of loneliness enveloped her. She had grown used to Jinghan’s presence, to his smile, to hearing him call “Wife” or “Qing’er,” and to sleeping beside him every night.
Now, with him gone, her heart felt empty.
She didn’t know where he was, or the state of the battles ahead, or if he was safe.
The more she thought, the more unsettled she became. She picked up her embroidery to keep busy but pricked her finger within a few stitches.
Ouch.
Crimson drops welled from her finger. She stared at them, and her heart ached fiercely.
Hands clasped together, she whispered over and over: Jinghan, please stay safe. You must not be harmed.