Against the Current - Chapter 224

Chapter 224 - Courtyard 

Yuan Shaoren flipped through the pages, only to find a sheet of Xuetao note-paper pressed at the very bottom, inscribed with a Qingping Le ci poem that read:

"Past dust flickers and fades, orchid fragments drift in dreams. Sudden rain taps against the window, disrupting the remnant night; south of the heavens and north of the earth, frost and moonlight.

In Jinling, mists and vapors drift and scatter; cease mentioning past affairs to break one's soul. Through the ages, the passionate mock me, still harboring lingering regrets for the spring breeze."

The signature read "Hermit of the Orchid Chamber." The handwriting was elegant, graceful, and exceptionally neat. Beside the poem, half a ring of smoky moon was sketched, while the lower corner featured a single branch of orchids paired with a cluster of secluded bamboo. A mere few strokes revealed a deep and consummate mastery of painting, setting off one another with delightful charm.

At first glance, Yuan Shaoren had merely taken it for the work of a boudoir maiden, but upon savoring it further, he detected something different. The poem genuinely contained a mixture of sweetness, bitterness, sorrow, and joy within its lines—completely unlike those who "force themselves to voice sorrow for the sake of writing new verses." Reading it once more, a profound sense of vicissitudes and desolation bled right through the paper.

At that moment, Chu Dapeng leaned in and asked, "Brother, you're so engrossed. What are you looking at?"

Yuan Shaoren flicked the letter paper with his finger and chuckled, "Interesting. Just how old is Yingyang's cousin to have experienced such 'past dust' and 'old affairs'? Still, this painting is truly magnificent. Who would have thought she'd turn out to be a talented woman?"

Chu Dapeng said, "If she didn't have a bit of extraordinary skill, how could our Brother Lou have such lofty standards and take a fancy to her?" Catching the half-smile in Yuan Shaoren's eyes, he let out a chuckle, gave Yuan Shaoren a light slap on the arm, and said, "All right, brother, stop playing dumb when you know very well what's going on. You're a few years older than us, what's left for you not to understand? Could an ordinary 'cousin' make the Tyrant Lin throw caution to the wind in the dead of night, storming your front gate and mobilizing troops to search for someone? You didn't see it—when he got to the temple and found no one there, the Tyrant Lin's face turned green, his eyeballs nearly popping out of his head like he was about to eat someone. It was the first time I'd ever seen him like that, and thinking about it now still gives me the creeps."

Yuan Shaoren was startled, then smiled. "So earlier in Jinling, when everyone was making such a huge fuss searching everywhere for a teenage girl, they were looking for her?"

"Of course," Chu Dapeng replied. "Sooner or later, you've got to make Yingyang bring her out so everyone can take a look and see if her looks are those of a divine maiden descending from the Ninth Heaven, since she managed to bewitch the Tyrant Lin like this."

Yuan Shaoren shook his head with a smile. He had never been interested in Lin Jinglou's romantic escapades, and as for this current one, even though she painted skillfully and composed fine poetry, he felt thoroughly indifferent. He had always kept his distance from such sentimental women who loved to compose poems and paint—it was true they possessed talent, but that constant melancholic mood was suffocating. Besides, women of that sort usually lived short lives; Li Qingzhao, Zhu Shuzhen, Tang Wan, Consort Ban—which of them possessed the physiognomy of great fortune and longevity?

Yuan Shaoren ordered his men to pack up all of Xianglan's belongings, place them in a trunk, and carry them back to the Lin residence in Yangzhou. The gatekeeper was exceptionally deferential, welcoming them inside. It was only upon entering the courtyard that Yuan Shaoren realized Lin Jinglou was absent. Intending to drop off the items and leave immediately, he caught sight of a figure standing within the moon gate. With his exceptional eyesight, he looked closer and saw that it was a woman. She was standing there with her head tilted back, gazing blankly at a branch of blossoms atop the wall. Her bearing was extraordinary; she had dark hair like cicada wings, flowing eye-shadow, and gracefully knitted brows. Her appearance was exceptionally beautiful, her figure slender and graceful. Clad in a light apricot-yellow blouse with a fresh green skirt, standing beneath a peach tree, she looked even more ethereal and captivating than the peach blossoms themselves.

Yuan Shaoren froze, inadvertently staring in a daze as if he were looking at someone else entirely. He muttered under his breath, "Lian... Lianniang..."

Xianglan bent down to pick up a fallen blossom from the ground, brought it to the tip of her nose to sniff, and as she turned to leave, she suddenly caught sight of a man standing outside the second gate. He was dressed in magnificent brocaded robes and grand attire, with a sturdy, towering build, sword-like brows, star-like eyes, a broad face, and a straight nose. He looked imposing and distinguished, with a mustache already growing beneath his nose. Though young, he carried the mature air of a man of some years. Xianglan hastily stepped aside to avoid him, thinking to herself, How strange that a man has suddenly wandered in here, and so presumptuously staring into the inner courtyard... Judging by his attire, dignified bearing, and aura of authority, he is no ordinary person; he must be a high-ranking imperial official holding real power.

At that moment, Lingqing poked her head out from the window to call Xianglan inside for her medicinal broth. Xianglan acknowledged her and started walking back, but unable to resist, she glanced over her shoulder one last time. Seeing that the man was still standing outside the second gate gazing inward, she quickly turned her head away, lifted her skirt, and darted swiftly into the room.

Seeing that Xianglan had left, Yuan Shaoren drew a long, deep breath and slowly covered his face with his hand. This woman must be Lin Jinglou's "cousin." That demeanor and spiritual essence were the spitting image of a deceased friend of his—Shen Jialian, the granddaughter of the former Senior Grand Secretary of the late emperor's court, Shen Wenhan. Later, when her family fell into disgrace and was exiled, she had become the concubine he brought into his estate ten years ago, and now she was nothing more than a handful of yellow earth over a lonely, overgrown grave.

He stood frozen in place, staring only at the empty courtyard where a gentle breeze swept past, scattering a flurry of chaotic red petals across the ground.

To resume the story, after drinking her broth, Xianglan felt a sense of boredom and wished to read a couple of volumes of books to pass the time. Lingqing went ahead to the front study, searched through the shelves, and returned with only two volumes of poetry and two Buddhist scriptures. Xianglan began flipping through them page by page without much focus. Meanwhile, Lingqing and Lingsu sat nearby altering a garment, speaking to each other in extremely hushed whispers.

Near noon, just as it was time for the midday meal, a wind suddenly blew up. Within moments, the sky darkened, and a fine, dense drizzle began to fall. Lingsu hurried over to close the windows, remarking, "It had to start raining out of nowhere; Your Ladyship should put on an extra layer of clothing." With that, she bustled about to set the table for the meal.

The kitchen had prepared four dishes and a soup. Because Xianglan had just recovered from her illness, there were no heavy, greasy meats—just two or three delicate green vegetables, accompanied by tender, milky-white tofu and a plate of exquisite pastry confections. Just as Xianglan was eating, Lin Jinglou returned, his clothes half-moistened. He told Xianglan, "Keep eating your meal," and casually grabbed a towel to wipe his face, while the maids hurried to open the chest and retrieve clean garments.

Lin Jinglou had arrived in Yangzhou in a rush, bringing not a single change of clothes with him. The Yangzhou residence only held a couple of his old garments left behind from previous visits. When he bought clothes for Xianglan days earlier, he had also picked up a few pieces for himself, though primarily for social engagements outside.

Having washed up and changed into dry clothes, Lin Jinglou sat down beside Xianglan. Glancing at the dishes on the table, he said, "Let's add two more dishes. I had to socialize outside at noon and didn't eat much of anything substantial."

Fortunately, the kitchen had made preparations in advance, and before long, two small stir-fried dishes were brought out. The colors were vibrant, though still nothing extravagant. Although Lin Jinglou was particular about food and drink, having spent a long time in the military, he wasn't overly fussy and picked up his chopsticks to begin eating.

Xianglan had already finished her meal, but because Lin Jinglou had returned, it wouldn't do to cast him aside. She simply kept half a bowl of soup, sitting quietly beside him in a daze. Although she no longer feared Lin Jinglou the way she once had, she still felt somewhat ill at ease when the two of them were alone together. Unable to put her finger on the exact feeling, she could only sit there in that awkward state.

Lin Jinglou glanced at her a couple of times, then picked up a piece of soft pastry with his chopsticks and placed it in her bowl.

Xianglan looked over at him.

Lin Jinglou managed to swallow the food in his mouth and said, "Eat a bit more. You've been sick these past two days and ate so little—if you don't, the flesh you managed to build up will just melt away again."

Xianglan murmured an acknowledgement, but stared at the pastry on her plate without any appetite. She poked at it a couple of times with her chopsticks, idly boring a few holes into it out of sheer boredom.