Unyielding Spring Mountains - Chapter 111

Chapter 111
Side Story 02

The Chancellor’s Residence.

It was another day of splendid weather, the light tulle curtains swaying gently with the breeze. At noon, sunlight streamed through the slits in the bamboo blinds, landing upon the pale blue skirt hem of the woman sitting by the edge of the bed. Her gaze was tender and warm as she watched the sleeping infant in the cradle, softly rocking it with both hands.

From outside, footsteps resounded. Yue Shu looked up to see, from a distance, a tall figure approaching.

“Madam, the Chancellor has returned to the residence.”

Yue Shu slowly released the cradle and was about to stand when Zuo Ying strode quickly to her bedside, resting a hand on her shoulder. “No need to get up to greet me. Just stay seated, A’Shu.”

Yue Shu smiled softly, placing her hand atop his. “You’re home at the same hour again today. Did you have lunch at the palace?”

Zuo Ying drew aside his robe and sat at the edge of the bed. The infant in the cradle had awakened at some point, and was gazing up at him with wide, curious eyes. Zuo Ying scooped the child up into his arms.

Smiling, he turned and said, “Not yet. There was a lot of state business today; His Majesty and the Queen kept me a while longer, inviting me to dine with them. But remembering that you said you’d be waiting for me, I politely refused, so as not to keep you waiting too long. Have you eaten yet, A’Shu?”

Yue Shu shook her head, watching as he amused their son in his arms, her own smile inevitably growing. “I was waiting for A’ge.”

Just as her words finished, a guard stepped in from outside, presenting a box to Yue Shu with both hands. She was puzzled, but Zuo Ying gestured for her to open and see.

“This is a set of floral hairpins and jewelry bestowed upon you by the Queen. She designed the pattern herself and had them custom-made for you.”

Yue Shu gently stroked the jewelry before closing the lid. “I remember when I first arrived in the capital, Her Majesty specifically sent medicines to help safeguard my pregnancy. Later, when I entered the palace to pay my respects, she never slighted me for my past, always taking care of me in every way.”

She looked at him. “The Queen and His Majesty truly are remarkable people. In a few days, I should prepare a modest gift to send her in return.”

Zuo Ying instructed his man to put the box away. “Indeed, the Queen is kind-hearted—though those two do love to trouble others. Had they just entrusted state affairs to me, that would be one thing. But not long ago, after Qi Yan returned from the Western Regions, he insisted on renovating the pond garden in the style of the Queen’s old courtyard in Chu, dragging me along to exhaust myself over the designs. And then there was when I cured Her Majesty’s eye ailment, and she asked me to forge a fine sword as a birthday gift for him—I’ve been endlessly busy for the two of them.”

Yue Shu laughed, “They truly are a perfect match.”

Zuo Ying pushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, speaking softly. “Last night you had a nightmare. Before leaving at dawn, I told the servants to prepare a calming decoction for you—did you take it?”

Feeling the gentleness of his fingertips, Yue Shu nodded. “I remembered what A’ge said. I took it and felt much better after.”

He placed their little son back into the cradle and held out his hand to her. Yue Shu wrapped her arms around his waist. “The nightmare last night was because I recalled old times, but after waking in fright and hearing your voice, I feared nothing at all.”

As long as he was there, she always felt especially at ease.

Zuo Ying took her hand, leading her to the table together. “It’s time to eat.”

With his work done for the day, Zuo Ying did not need to return to the palace after lunch and so spent the afternoon napping with mother and child.

As the curtains fell, the light inside the chamber became hazy. Yue Shu watched as Zuo Ying gently patted the child’s belly, lulling the child to sleep. In this moment, time seemed to slow, and even the shifting light on them seemed exceptionally tender.

She reached out to touch his face, murmuring, “A’ge, even now this all feels surreal to me, as if I’m still dreaming.”

Zuo Ying lifted his gaze, his eyes filled with gentleness. “The palace of Qi is long past; there’s no need to dwell on it any longer. You have me beside you. Sleep now.”

She smiled and agreed, but a dull ache still stirred faintly within her chest. The State of Qi might be a thing of the past, but the old scars it left behind—once laid down—how could they ever truly heal?

In the lazy, drowsy light of the afternoon, Yue Shu slowly closed her eyes.

The man she had once called older brother was now her husband.

In this lifetime, he had saved her twice.

That year, her parents had just passed away. Led by her amah^1, she entered the Zuo family for the first time.

“What is your name?” asked Lady Zuo, holding her hand.

“I am Zuo Shu.” She remembered her amah’s instructions: when replying, reveal the dimples on both cheeks, to endear herself to the lady of the house.

Her father had died in war, her mother had followed him in death, and her amah had said that it was the great fortune of her father’s superior to agree to adopt her. She would henceforth be a member of the Zuo family and thus must take the Zuo surname.

Lady Zuo smiled and nodded, well satisfied.

Eight-year-old Yue Shu bowed, but a voice rose from behind the screen: “She need not take the Zuo surname—let her keep the Yue surname.”

A youth stepped out from behind the screen, voice clear and gentle and features elegant. He was of the renowned Zuo family, one of the six great noble houses of Chu, and while his status was eminent, his gaze upon her held not a trace of arrogance.

“Vice General Yue died for Chu; since we have adopted his daughter, how could we force her to change her name? Yue it shall be. But know that the Zuo family will treat her as their own.”

The Zuo family had never mistreated her, but for her, going from being the young mistress of the Yue household to a dependent orphan was a profound upheaval, making every step careful and cautious.

The Zuo house was large and influential, and she was not the only foster child within its walls. When she first arrived, her cousins would often ostracize and bully her.

Young as she was then, she often sat under the eaves, unsure whether to report such matters to the head of the household. If it came before him, as an outsider she could not compare to the family’s flesh and blood.

Before her amah left, she had issued hundreds of warnings—not to bring trouble upon the Zuo family. Thus, Yue Shu dared not confront the scions and heiresses head-on.

In her second year with the Zuo family, she had saved up a little money to secretly burn paper offerings for her parents on the anniversary of their deaths. But her cousins played a mean trick, stealing the paper money and running off. She chased after them, only to trip and fall in the snowy mud; the slush soaked her skirt with frigid cold.

The paper money scattered on the wind, fluttering down around her.

With her eyes red, she crawled to gather them up, muttering, “Father, Mother.”

But her parents were gone; there was no one left in the world to protect her.

A figure cast a shadow before her. Looking up, she saw a young man in fine robes atop a white horse. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Panic-stricken, she lowered her head and covered her injured hand, not wanting him to see her embarrassed state. “Young Master.”

The youth dismounted and helped her gather the scattered papers, returning them to her. She took the papers and began to withdraw, but he called out to her, “A’Shu.”

He walked up to her. “You are soaked—if you go back like this, you’ll catch a chill. Come to my rooms to dry off first.”

He brought her back to his courtyard and carefully treated her wounds.

Snow drifted outside the window that day, but within it was as warm as spring. He patiently tended her injuries. Grateful, she said softly, “Thank you, Young Master.”

“No need to call me Young Master. Call me A’ge, as the rest of the family does.”

His tone was nonchalant, as if merely saying it in passing, perhaps worried she might take it lightly, the corner of his lips curled in a faint smile.

But those two gentle words rippled through her heart like a stone cast upon still water.

He had discovered all that she’d suffered since arriving. From that day, she moved out of her original room and into his courtyard.

She never knew how he persuaded the master to allow it, but as the eldest son of the Zuo family, born to renown and praised for his brilliance, surely such things lay within his power.

A’ge appeared as aloof as the moon in the sky, but in private, he was gentle. He taught her writing, poetry, and tea appreciation, brought her braziers and fire for warmth—treating her truly as his own younger sister. Her amah had said not to trouble the Zuo family, but she could not stop herself hoping to draw closer to him.

She liked A’ge.

Yet she was not pure and magnanimous by nature—she harbored thoughts of vengeance. Those who had wronged her, she quietly paid back in kind—not with anything excessive, but even in caution, her elder brother found her out.

One day, he returned from his lessons, tossing his cloak aside upon a chair. She stood by the screen as he came close. “Third Cousin fell from his horse and hurt his right knee—he’ll likely limp for life. Was it you who tampered with his horse?”

Her hands tightened on her hem. She knew if he asked, it meant he was certain; voice trembling, she replied, “He’s the one who pushed me into the icy lake last year.”

She didn’t know how to swim, sinking and flailing in the freezing water, helpless despair dragging at her, threatening to pull her under forever.

She was braced for punishment, but his words left her dumbstruck.

His gaze was gentle, clear as snow. “I know it was you. But, A’Shu, next time, be more careful—make it cleaner.”

He extended his hand, checking the calluses left by the stirrups.

She hadn’t expected his response, confused. “A’ge, aren’t you angry with me?”

He looked up. “What is there to blame? They bullied you first; you may repay them however you wish. I am merely worried, afraid you might get into unnecessary trouble.”

Her chest filled with a vast echo. After a long moment, she still couldn’t help but ask, “A’ge, do you only care for me out of pity?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, “but, A’Shu, I do not pity everyone.”

Yue Shu could not describe the feeling, as if being cradled in someone’s palm. To protect herself, she had bristled up like a hedgehog—but he had never feared being pricked, instead promising to protect her.

He said, “Your father was subordinate to my family. From the moment you entered the Zuo household, I have been committed to caring for you for life. I will take care of what happened today, and no matter what, A’ge will always stand by you. But A’Shu, trust me—don’t hide things from me. I will not let you suffer anymore.”

She burst into tears, tightly hugging him. “Older brother…”

The years passed—winters cold, summers hot. When spring came and peach blossoms filled the backyard, he would play a new melody on his instrument, and she would dance the latest routine for him.

No matter where he went, she always followed close behind, enduring much teasing from his friends. Her cheeks would flush red, and always at those moments, A’ge would kindly take her hand, forbidding the teasing.

Her A’ge was a prodigy among youth—a scion of a centuries-old family, raised in lavish splendor, noble beyond compare. Back then, she naively believed she would call him “older brother” forever, to be protected by him for life.

But all that vanished on a snowy day.

When she was fourteen, the King of Chu issued an order to punish the Zuo family. Armed soldiers flooded the residence, turning the estate into a river of blood echoing with endless wails.

She and the other women were dragged from the house; she struggled to break free, glimpsed A’ge amid the carnage, and, crying out, ran toward him.

“Older brother!”

She threw herself into his arms, falling to her knees with him. He embraced her tightly, holding her even harder than before, as if to fuse her into his very bones.

Snow fell continuously, turning red as it mixed with blood.

Guards moved to separate them—he refused to let go, his hoarse voice rough: “You must live, no matter what—live, and I will save you out of here…”

She was lost in fear. His eyelashes glimmered with snow, both hands cupping her face, his eyes bloodshot: “Trust in me—your brother will come for you.”

A guard covered her mouth, violently pulling her from his arms.

“Brother!”

Their fingertips slowly separated, and at last were completely torn apart.

The Zuo clan was purged by royal decree. All the male kin were exiled to the frontiers, the women consigned to palace service. She was shut in a dark palace chamber, beginning years as a slave, wandering rootless.

She followed a Chu princess married into Qi, to do the lowest labor, her heart growing numb. Yet at night, as she looked at the necklace A’ge gave her and recalled his words, it all seemed a bit more bearable.

He had promised—he would find her, would rescue her.

Things A’ge promised, he always fulfilled. A year, five years, ten, a lifetime—she could wait.

In winter, her hands were covered in chilblains from washing clothes; in summer, she suffered under scorching heat, fainting several times from sunstroke. She often wondered, was her brother on the frontier thinking of her, determined to hold on for her sake?

Relying on herself, she gradually improved her position in the palace. But unexpectedly, King Qi noticed her and forcibly took her into his harem.

She refused to submit, resisting, even trying to kill the King, prepared to die with him. But if someone was to die, it should always be the King of Qi—why should it be her?

She remembered every lesson A’ge had taught: bide your time; strike swiftly and cleanly; leave no loose ends.

She kept waiting—for a chance to finish King Qi once and for all.

Made a plaything, every day in the King’s company was sickening, yet to outsiders, Lady Yue was a wanton siren, beguiling the monarch and corrupting the realm.

The palace at Qi was unbearably cold—her heart was bit by bit devoured until she was numbed.

From slave to consort, her hands had become stained with blood. Sometimes she wondered, if A’ge saw what she’d become, would he rebuke her for changing?

No—she quickly suppressed the thought.

Just as when she sabotaged her cousin’s horse, her brother had said, “They bullied you first; however you respond is justified.” If he knew she’d suffered, he would only worry for her, and fear she brought trouble on herself.

She forced herself to stop thinking of him; longing unfulfilled only tormented her. Yet when night fell, thoughts of him surged up like a tide.

He was the one glimmer of light in her bleak life. Without him, the road ahead turned black again.

The time in Qi Palace stretched endlessly—as she gazed at her bejeweled reflection in the bronze mirror, she could scarcely remember how long she had been there.

Was it five years, or seven? The days apart from A’ge had outnumbered those they spent together.

One day, the palace was as noisy and debauched as ever. She sat beside the King, lifting a cup to his lips, when someone outside announced, “My lord, there is a person outside named Yue Ying seeking audience.”

She froze, glancing at the doors. When she first entered the Zuo family, she was called Zuo Shu, but her brother had corrected her—“Yue Shu,” no need to change surnames.

Now, someone was at the palace, claiming the name Yue Ying.

With a crash, her wine cup struck the floor, dark liquid spreading across her dress. Ignoring the King’s call, she staggered out from behind the table and strode forward.

The music and dancing halted; the whole hall fell still, all eyes upon her as she walked, unsteady, to the doors.

She felt as if she were walking on cotton, every step surreal.

Then, from the dazzling sunlight outside, that familiar figure stepped into view. His face gradually came into focus. She had imagined, should they ever meet again, she would lose control, throw herself into his arms.

But all she did was softly call, “Brother.”

He bowed respectfully before her, his gaze clear and bright, reflecting her own face. “Lady Yue.”

Seven years—she had waited long enough for him.

Between them, just this one address was enough.

^1 Amah: A female attendant or nursemaid, often entrusted with the care of children in traditional Chinese households.