In late spring, it was customary for the Su family to go to the Cien Temple in the outskirts of the capital to pray and give thanks. Grandmother was advanced in years and had gone out less and less in recent years, so this time Mother Su Yan led the female members of the family, along with me—the young master who had been "specially permitted" to go out for some fresh air—on the trip.
Cien Temple was an imperial temple, serene in setting and rich in incense offerings, often visited by high-ranking officials and nobles to pray for blessings. The Su family arrived neither early nor late. After offering incense in the front hall and donating a substantial sum of incense oil money, we were led by a guest-receiving monk to the refined lodgings in the rear courtyard to rest for a while, waiting for the abbot to receive us personally.
I wore plain, light-blue spring robes, with a thin fleece cloak draped over them. Father and my wet nurse accompanied me on either side as I walked in the middle of the group. Having lived long within the inner residence, being able to come out for a walk—even if it was merely to sit somewhere else—lifted my spirits noticeably.
The refined lodgings in the rear courtyard were built along the mountain, arranged in a pleasing, staggered layout, separated by bamboo fences or flower walls so as not to disturb one another. The guest monk led us to one called "Listening to the Bamboo Pavilion," then pressed his palms together and took his leave.
The pavilion was small yet elegant. Pushing open the window revealed a stretch of verdant bamboo forest. A fresh breeze passed through, bamboo leaves rustling softly—it was indeed an excellent place to calm the mind and rest. Mother had other matters to discuss with the abbot and left ahead of us. Father and my wet nurse settled the tea and refreshments we had brought, then chatted in the outer room, leaving me to rest in the inner chamber.
I truly was a little tired. The mountain path was not steep, but to my ruined body, it was already a burden. I reclined on the bamboo couch by the window, listening to the wind and the bamboo's cadence, my eyelids gradually growing heavy.
I did not know how long I slept before I was startled awake by a faint rustling sound and deliberately lowered voices in conversation.
The sounds seemed to come from the small path outside the pavilion, at the edge of the bamboo grove. They were not from anyone of the Su family.
"…Your Highness, this is the 'Listening to the Bamboo Pavilion' where the Su family is resting," said a young woman's voice, respectful and cautious.
"Mhm." A very brief reply followed—cool and restrained—yet it instantly drove all sleep from me.
It was Xiao Yuhuang.
My heart skipped a beat. Instinctively, I held my breath and leaned slightly forward, peering out through a gap in the bamboo blinds.
On the bamboo-lined path stood two people. At the front was Xiao Yuhuang. She was not wearing court dress today, but only a somewhat worn stone-blue arrow-sleeved outfit. Her long hair was simply tied up with an ebony hairpin. Her posture was upright, her profile appearing somewhat blurred in the dappled light and shadow. At her side followed a young woman dressed as an ordinary maid, her brows sharp, her presence restrained—clearly someone with no small measure of martial skill.
Why were they here? Was it a coincidence? Or was it…
Xiao Yuhuang stood quietly for a while. Her gaze seemed directed toward the Listening to the Bamboo Pavilion, yet also seemed merely to rest on the bamboo forest before her. Her profile was still slender, but compared to a few years ago, there was less timidity, replaced by an indescribable calmness and… distance.
"Is it prepared?" she suddenly asked, her voice still low.
"It is prepared, Your Highness." The maid took from her robes a familiar pale-blue cloth pouch and offered it with both hands.
Xiao Yuhuang took it, holding it in her palm, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing along the edge of the pouch. She was silent for a moment before asking softly, "How is his complexion today?"
The maid seemed to have anticipated the question and replied in a low voice, "From a distance, when Young Master Su got down from the carriage, he looked somewhat fatigued, but his spirits were still fair. Su Xiang and Liu Zhengjun guarded him very closely; it was impossible to get near."
Xiao Yuhuang gave an almost inaudible "mhm," her gaze still fixed on the distance, as though she could see through the bamboo blinds to the person inside.
"And lately… has his coughing still been severe?" she asked again, a trace of tension barely perceptible in her voice.
"According to those we placed outside the Su residence, a few nights ago the cold was heavy, and the young master seemed to cough for half the night. He was somewhat better by this morning. The medicine prescribed by the imperial physician… appears to be of mediocre effect."
The fingers gripping the pouch tightened, her knuckles paling slightly. Xiao Yuhuang did not ask anything further, only remained silent for a long time. The spring wind swept through the bamboo grove, lifting the loose strands of hair at her forehead. Her figure, amid the shifting light and shadow, looked exceptionally solitary.
I leaned behind the window, my heart pounding in my chest. She really had been paying attention to me all along. She even knew that I had coughed for half the night the day before. That pale-blue medicine pouch truly was something she sent again and again. She… was she worried about me? In such a concealed, even somewhat clumsy way?
Just as my thoughts were in turmoil, Xiao Yuhuang suddenly moved. She turned as if preparing to leave.
"Your Highness," the maid reminded her softly, "will you not… send it in? Su Xiang does not seem to be here at the moment."
Xiao Yuhuang's steps halted. She turned her head and looked once more toward the pavilion. This time, her gaze seemed far more complex—struggle, hesitation, some deeply hidden longing, and an inescapable restraint and concern.
"No need." She finally shook her head, her voice somewhat hoarse. "The Su residence is tightly guarded. Better to have one less complication. Besides…" She paused. "I cannot implicate him."
The last few words were spoken very softly, yet they struck my heart like a heavy hammer.
Implicate.
So it was not that she did not wish to draw close, nor that she was wholly indifferent. She was afraid that her closeness would bring trouble to me, to the Su family. Just like that prison cart in the autumn rain—her indifference might not have been heartlessness, but rather a cruel form of self-preservation when she herself could barely protect herself, or even… a different kind of protection for those who might be implicated.
The thought set my emotions surging.
Xiao Yuhuang handed the pouch back to the maid. "Find a suitable opportunity, and as usual, place it where he often goes."