To Embers We Return — Chapter 25
***
As the events of the next few days proved, Zeng Qingluo really did know Shen Ni very well.
Shen Ni was so caught up in studying the charred corpse of ‘Qin Wushang’ that she spent the next three days shut up in her workshop, even sleeping there. All her good intentions of paying a visit to Diwu Que and He Lanzhuo were, of course, completely forgotten.
Luckily, her ever-competent little assistant Zeng Qingluo was on hand to remember it for her.
When she was carrying out tasks on Shen Ni’s behalf, Zeng Qingluo often found herself needing considerable amounts of silver to grease the palms of whoever she was dealing with, and Shen Ni wasn’t about to let her pay out of pocket. Every month, she would deposit two thousand taels of silver into an account Zeng Qingluo managed, for the latter to spend as she judged best. If Zeng Qingluo ever needed more, she had instructions to let Shen Ni know directly.
Zeng Qingluo paid very little heed to the finer things in life. Often, a single bowl of soup noodles would be enough to sustain her all day. She never spent any of the riches from Shen Ni’s account on herself. That money was meant to be used in the course of her duties, and she treated it strictly as such. Shen Ni trusted her implicitly, and never felt the need to question how the money was spent.
Zeng Qingluo stopped by the market quarter first and bought a selection of the most fashionable desserts on offer and some extra-strength nutrient beverages, the kind designed to speed up healing. She was just making her way towards the inn where Diwu Que and He Lanzhuo were staying when she spotted Bian Jin emerging out of a narrow alley.
‘Dashijie, what are you doing here?’ she called out.
Bian Jin’s cloak was draped over the crook of her arm, and her usually fastidiously tidy coiffure was somewhat rumpled. A fine layer of sweat had broken out on her forehead, and her shoes were stained with mud. She looked very unlike her normal self.
‘It’s my day off from Lantai today,’ Bian Jin explained. ‘And I’d heard that there was going to be an auction of artifacts from the twelve northern provinces here, so I came to take a look.’
It was only now that Bian Jin realised her shoes were covered in mud. She had no idea when that had happened. Bending down, she took out a tissue from the pocket in her sleeve and began very carefully to wipe the stains off.
Seeing and hearing about these artifacts from the north could very well help Bian Jin to recall what had happened to her there, Zeng Qingluo reflected. ‘Dashijie,’ she asked curiously, ‘are you trying to recover your memories of those three lost years as quickly as possible?’
Bian Jin wiped the final bit of mud from her shoe. She folded the tissue in half over the stain, then into quarters, before finally disposing of it into a waste bin that stood on the nearest street corner. ‘Of course,’ she replied.
The sooner she regained her memories, the sooner the enemies circling around herself and Shen Ni — those would-be predators with their gleaming eyes, just waiting to pounce on the ‘fact’ of her treason as an excuse to bring trouble down on both their heads — could be rooted out and purged.
And she had another, hidden reason of her own as well.
Bian Jin could read Shen Ni’s likes and dislikes from her most oblique, roundabout sentences, even if Shen Ni never named them out loud. After all, she was the one who’d brought Shen Ni up since infancy. So even though Shen Ni had never said it in so many words, Bian Jin could tell that Shen Ni did not like Qin Wushang, nor did she like the rumours about Bian Jin and Qin Wushang that had spread all over Chang’an.
Exactly what had transpired in those three years she could not remember? Bian Jin wondered. Had anything ever passed between herself and Qin Wushang, and if so, was it as sordid as the scandalmongers painted it?
Bian Jin never trusted anything that came from the mouths of strangers. If she wanted to be absolutely certain about what had happened, the only route open to her was to recover her memories of the last three years. She had to do it, for all these reasons that were so closely intertwined.
In truth, Bian Jin was hardly the peak of physical health today. She still felt no pain from the injuries to her shoulder and ear. She’d patched them up in a rudimentary fashion, and left it at that. For the last few days, she’ d been sleeping alone, eating alone, going about her business alone. An unfamiliar sense of loneliness seemed to haunt her very footsteps, along with a vague, inexplicable restlessness.
But then she’d read the news about the auction on the extranet, and decided to go and see what there was to be seen. Perhaps getting some fresh air would clear her head, and help relieve this odd, prickly heat that kept flaring up within her.
‘Mm,’ said Zeng Qingluo, and then added in tones of worry, ‘but they might not be very good memories.’
She knew that the interrogators at the Court of Judicature and Revision had subjected Bian Jin to the most brutal treatment, but from her own investigations — as well as the hints Shen Ni had subtly dropped — she was sure that those life-threatening injuries Bian Jin had suffered had been inflicted at some point in those three lost years. How much pain she must have endured then. If Bian Jin had to relive her memories of that time, would that not be tantamount to making another journey through a hell she had already survived?
‘I’m sure they aren’t,’ said Bian Jin. ‘But they’re still part of me — they belong to me. Whether they’re good or bad, I need to get them back.’
Those words struck Zeng Qingluo squarely in the heart. Her dashijie had always had an unflinching dauntlessness to her, as if there was nothing in the world she truly feared.
Bian Jin took note of the two heavy bags that Zeng Qingluo was holding, and asked her where she was going. Once Zeng Qingluo had told her, Bian Jin decided to join her in paying a visit on Diwu Que and He Lanzhuo as well.
The box jellyfish and Qin Wushang had turned up in Chang’an at the exact same time. As Bian Jin saw it, this was an obvious sign that they were in cahoots with each other. And as for why the jellyfish had been pursuing Shen Ni with such single-minded determination, perhaps it was because Shen Ni was her wife, and perhaps that had goaded Qin Wushang into some fit of misguided jealousy.
Diwu Que and He Lanzhuo had been injured in the ensuing battle — a battle that would not have taken place if not for Shen Ni and herself. Since Shen Ni was still shut away in her workshop, and Bian Jin had no wish to disturb her, it was only proper for Bian Jin to pay a call on Diwu Que and He Lanzhuo on their joint behalf as a married couple.
The two Muzhou dignitaries in question were staying in the capital’s bustling East Market, at an inn called Empire House. This was reserved exclusively for high officials of TangPro and its neighbouring countries. Zeng Qingluo’s duties often took her near Empire House, but she’d never set foot inside it. Whenever she looked upon its majestic edifice, she’d felt it must be the very pinnacle of extravagance. She was more than happy for Bian Jin’s company. That way, even if she inadvertently made a fool for herself in those unfamiliar surroundings, at least she would not feel too embarrassed.
Empire House was the best, most luxurious inn in the whole of TangPro — a grand, multi-storey building of ingenious construction, which had stood in one of the most prominent spots in Chang’an’s skyline for hundreds of years. Ten years ago, Li Ruoyuan had allocated considerable funds to its refurbishment, renovating it completely both inside and out. Now, the outer walls were made of the most cutting-edge biomimetic materials, which had the same superhydrophobic properties as lotus leaves. No speck of rain, snow or mud could stain the walls of Empire House. Even on days when the smog was at its heaviest, Empire House shone as clean and bright as ever. It looked completely out of place with the shabby, dilapidated houses that surrounded it — houses that had been constructed in the same time period. It was one of the few surviving vestiges of TangPro’s once-proud architectural heritage.
Gifts in hand, Zeng Qingluo and Bian Jin stepped through the front doors of Empire House. Zeng Qingluo handed a visiting card to the android usher who greeted them.
The usher had been constructed in the form of a young woman. She led them over to the cloud-lift,[1] smiled at Zeng Qingluo and said, ‘The doors will open soon. Please mind your step.’
She looked so pretty, and so warm and approachable, that Zeng Qingluo found herself blushing.
Zeng Qingluo shuffled a little closer to Bian Jin and whispered, ‘She looks so real — she’s so beautiful.’
‘Who is?’ asked Bian Jin, who had not really been paying attention to the usher. She rarely took note of whether strangers were attractive or not, in any case.
‘This android right here. She looks just like a real person!’
‘Mm,’ Bian Jin responded perfunctorily, though she did not turn to look any closer at the usher.
The doors of the cloud-lift opened. Inside stood two tall, burly, bearded men whose robes marked them out as military officials — not of TangPro itself, but of one of its vassal states, the Kingdom of Yi. Both men had eyebrows as thick as reclining silkworms,[2] and noses that were astonishingly big by TangPro standards. Their overly exuberant hair and beards made it difficult to make out much of their other features.
Bian Jin had been browsing the extranet more frequently of late, catching up on the events that had occurred during those three lost years. She’d learned that there was new, young king on the throne of the Kingdom of Yi, who chafed under TangPro’s rule. Several TangPro merchant vessels passing by the Yi border had recently been seized by Yi troops. Their cargo and crew had been taken hostage, and the new king intended to use these as a bargaining chip for renegotiating the amount of tribute due to TangPro every year. These two officials must be part of the diplomatic entourage that had recently arrived in Chang’an for those discussions.
The usher smiled at the two men. ‘You have arrived at the ground floor. Please—’
Before she could even finish her sentence, the two officials huffed impatiently and barged past her, shouldering her roughly — and clearly maliciously — out of their way. The usher’s body was made of some fairly substantial material, but the collision still sent her tumbling backwards, and she landed flat on the floor. The impact cracked the plate at the back of her skull and knocked it out of place; black hydraulic oil began seeping out.
Lying there on the floor, the android usher was a forlorn figure indeed. Yet she continued to repeat her pre-programmed warning to any passersby who might be coming through. ‘An unexpected attack has occurred. Please stay clear of the area. An unexpected attack has occurred, Please stay clear of the area…’
Bian Jin reached down with her free hand and lifted the usher back to her feet. The usher turned and smiled at her. ‘Many thanks for your assistance.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ said Bian Jin.
As soon as the words left her lips, a burst of raucous laughter echoed from the other end of the corridor. It had come from the two military officials.
‘I’ve heard of fools who play the qin[3] to herds of cows,’[4] said one, ‘but I never imagined I would see someone giving thanks to a heap of worthless metal. TangPro does live up to its reputation after all — it’s a land of hidden geniuses. Now I can truly say I’ve seen it all!’
He had spoken in the language of the Kingdom of Yi. As this was very much a minority language within TangPro, he and his compatriot were certain that no one else in the room would understand it.
Just as they were about to step out of Empire House, however, from behind them came a cool female voice. ‘How may one who is without compassion claim to be elevated above dogs and swine?’
This was a very common proverb in the Kingdom of Yi — and the speaker had uttered it in the language of their homeland itself. The two officials stopped in their tracks and turned, brows bristling with rage. Their eyes, wide with anger, stood out clearly now amid their thickets of hair and beard.
The shorter of the two men, his face flushed with indignation, was about to storm up to Bian Jin when his companion caught hold of him by the arm. The latter scrutinised Bian Jin’s features carefully for several moments before whispering in the shorter man’s ear, ‘That woman over there appears to be Bian Jin.’
A complicated mixture of emotions, overlaid with no small degree of fear, crossed their faces. After conferring with each other in hushed voices, they turned and left the building without a further word.
By now, Zeng Qingluo had snapped the plate at the back of the usher’s skull into its proper place. ‘Dashijie, what did you say just now?’ she asked curiously. ‘Why did it make them so angry?’
Bian Jin would have liked to know herself. The words she’d spoken earlier had clearly not been in her native tongue, nor had they been in any of the three other languages she knew. From the two officials’ reaction, she must have spoken in the Yi language. But she’d never even set foot in the Kingdom of Yi before, much less learned its tongue.
A whisper of pain began to throb in her skull again, and her brows knitted together. ‘Something unpleasant, that’s all. It’s best that you not know. Let’s go up, shall we?’
‘Yes,’ said Zeng Qingluo. Then she turned to the usher. ‘Are you able to get that damage to your skull seen to?’
She’d been slightly concerned that the usher might not understand her, but the usher responded immediately. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Thank you, both of you.’
The usher turned to leave, and Bian Jin’s gaze lingered for some moments on her departing back. How could anyone treat her as a mere object? She seemed so human.
Once the android had left the room, Zeng Qingluo pressed the ‘up’ button beside the cloud-lift. She and Bian Jin stepped inside, and the lift rose straight to the thirtieth floor.
Diwu Que had told Zeng Qingluo the number of her room, so they made their way towards it. As they stopped outside Diwu Que’s door, Zeng Qingluo said, ‘I’m not sure which room Military Commissioner He is in. I’ve bought gifts for her too.’
‘Why don’t we leave those with Mistress Diwu, and she can hand them over to Military Commissioner He when they next see each other,’ Bian Jin suggested. ‘Then we’ll have conveyed our good wishes to both of them.
‘That makes sense,’ said Zeng Qingluo.
She knocked. There was no answer.
‘Diwu jiejie, it’s me, Zeng Qingluo,’ she called out. ‘My dashijie and I have come to see how you’re doing.’
Only Zeng Qingluo was standing close enough to the door to hear what happened next — a very faint rustling, followed by what sounded like a low, repressed moan. Her hand, raised to knock again, paused in mid-air. Why did she get the feeling that it had sounded much more like Military Commissioner He than Diwu Que?
A few moments later, the door opened.
Diwu Que stood at the threshold, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. A faint suggestion of steam seemed to hang about her. Somehow, she looked a little softer than usual, a little more sensual. She had draped a nightshirt around herself, but had not had the time to tie up the sash. Instead, she was simply holding it closed with one hand.
Diwu Que looked from Zeng Qingluo to Bian Jin, then back again. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Dashijie and I came to see how you and Military Commissioner He were doing.’ Zeng Qingluo paused, then added, ‘Are you all right, Diwu jiejie?’
Diwu Que knew perfectly well how red her face must be. She cleared her throat a little awkwardly. ‘Oh. I’m… I’m fine. It’s just that the room… the room’s a bit too warm. I’ll adjust the temperature in a little while. Yes.’
Zeng Qingluo’s eyes fell on the loosened neck of Diwu Que’s nightshirt. A corner of it had folded down, just enough for Zeng Qingluo to see a very fresh red mark at the base of her throat. Combined with Diwu Que’s odd manner and the darkened room behind her, with its curtains suggestively drawn, Zeng Qingluo was able to put two and two together. She understood at once what was going on.
Her face turned even redder than Diwu Que’s as she hastily thrust the gifts into the other woman’s arms. They’d come at a very bad time!
‘You and Military Commissioner He were injured during the battle against the jellyfish, so we thought we’d bring you some nutrient beverages and local delicacies, and see if there was anything you needed help with. Luckily it looks like you’re both recovering very well!”
Diwu Que thanked Zeng Qingluo, hugging the gifts to her chest, and added with a broad smile, ‘Sorry, little Qingluo, I’m not really in a state to host you properly today.’
‘Oh, there’s no need for that! We’ll be leaving right away!’
‘I’ll treat you and Shen Ni to dinner soon, I promise.’
Zeng Qingluo reached for Bian Jin’s arm, intending to drag Bian Jin away with her. But Bian Jin stepped forward instead and held out a small black jar of ointment towards Diwu Que.
‘You should get that injury treated as soon as possible,’ she said. ‘This ointment should help — it’s very effective.’ Her eyes went quite openly to the love-bite on Diwu Que’s neck. ‘Do give it a try.’
The smile froze on Diwu Que’s face. ‘I… thank you,’ she said, taking the jar.
When Zeng Qingluo looked away, Bian Jin realised instantly that she’d misunderstood. The mark on Diwu Que’s neck seemed less like a wound and more like… the aftermath of passion.
Bian Jin was not very sensitive to such matters, but luckily she’d found herself in situations much more awkward than this before, so she was able to smooth it over. With a smile, she indicated to Diwu Que that the latter should shut the door. ‘We won’t disturb the two of you any further. Please rest well.’
Diwu Que stepped back inside the room, closing the door behind her. She placed the gifts on a low table nearby. She didn’t bother tying the sash of her nightshirt; it would soon be taken off anyway.
She looked down at the beautiful woman in her bed, who was still flushed and glowing from their exertions earlier. Diwu Que slipped off the nightshirt and climbed in beside her, embracing her from behind and kissing her deeply.
‘Mm,’ said He Lanzhuo. Then, a moment later, she added a little grumpily, ‘I’d just come.’
Diwu Que pouted. ‘Well, I haven’t,’ she said, and hugged He Lanzhuo even tighter.
***
As Bian Jin pressed the ‘down’ button next to the cloud-lift, Zeng Qingluo finally gave voice to the question that had been hovering on her lips for some time. ‘Dashijie,’ she said quietly, ‘is it true that you and xiaoshijie haven’t yet… you know…’
She could not quite bring herself to utter the words ‘consummated your marriage’ out loud.
Bian Jin’s ears had finally stopped burning. ‘I just misunderstood, that’s all,’ she said. She wasn’t completely ignorant of what couples did behind closed doors; it was simply that she rarely paid much attention to such matters, so it was a rather foreign idea to her. It was true, though, that she hadn’t recognised Diwu Que’s love-bite for what it was at first.
Zeng Qingluo looked cautiously around, and after confirming that there was no one else in the corridor, said in worried tones, ‘My sources have told me that Prince Wei and his faction are scheming to make a formal indictment against xiaoshijie in court. They plan to play up the fact that you were seen pushing xiaoshijie away outside the Information Services Bureau after the battle two days ago. I’ve heard that Prince Wei intends to use that as an opening to accuse you and xiaoshijie of not being on cordial terms, so much so that you haven’t yet consummated your marriage, and are thereby defying the emperor’s will. I’ve already told xiaoshijie all about this. I thought at first it was just baseless gossip, but if there is any truth to it, there might well be serious consequences. You and xiaoshijie need to take some precautions.’
A plan began to form in Bian Jin’s mind.
It was true that she and Shen Ni had not consummated their marriage, and they often slept in separate rooms besides. But who could know that, except for the servants at Shen Ni’s mansion?
So there was a spy within their household — and one who had been directed to keep an eye on what she and Shen Ni did (or did not do) between the sheets, at that.
The trouble she’d been expecting had finally come to their door, but it shouldn’t be too difficult to defuse. All they had to do was put on another public show of wifely affection. Though this time, it seemed that Li Chu already had his suspicions, so he and his supporters might not be as easy to trick as others had been before.
What could she and Shen Ni possibly use as evidence of their undying love for each other?
The memory of the love-bite on Diwu Que’s neck kept surfacing in her mind.
***
It was already past the usual hour for the midday meal, but Shen Ni had yet to emerge from her workshop.
Under the pretext of stretching her legs, Bian Jin wandered up to the door. It was so well sound-proofed that she couldn’t hear even the faintest noise from inside. Through the silk-lined wooden lattice in the top half of the door, however, she could just about discern the faint outlines of Shen Ni’s figure as she stood up and moved around inside.
Shen Ni must still be at work. Auntie Wan had mentioned that she’d only eaten a few mouthfuls of her breakfast, then let the rest go cold.
Bian Jin went to the kitchens to see what the cooks had prepared. There was wild celery, which Shen Ni had never liked. Spinach, which she always had to be coaxed into eating. There were also winter bamboo shoots, her favourite. There was mutton, which Shen Ni had always found too gamey for her liking. The sliced beef, on the other hand — she could eat an entire plateful of that, especially with a generous helping of chili oil to dip the meat into.
And so it was that when Auntie Wan came down the walkway towards Shen Ni’s workshop with a tray in her hands, she saw Bian Jin hovering by the door, also carrying a tray. Its contents were protected by two thermal plate covers.
‘Have you made some lunch for her lordship, my lady?’ asked Auntie Wan.
The tip of Bian Jin’s nose was a little red from the cold, and there was a dusting of snow on her shoulders and the top of her head. ‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘It’s just that I saw that the kitchens had prepared quite a variety of dishes today, and since I happened to be passing through here, I thought… thought I might as well bring her some of the food, so she could try it.’
Auntie Wan glanced down at the snowy ground, which was covered in Bian Jin’s criss-crossing footprints, but said nothing about it. With a warm smile, she said, ‘Then why not take the tray in, my lady?’
‘She’s still busy,’ said Bian Jin. ‘The work she’s doing is complex and delicate, and calls for close attention to detail. If I were to simply walk in unannounced, I fear I would be disrupting her train of thought.’
Bian Jin had wanted to speak to Shen Ni about Prince Wei’s likely scheme, and to discuss possible strategies for countering it. But Shen Ni had been absorbed in her work all this while, and Bian Jin had qualms about disturbing her — especially when the strategy that was topmost in her mind involved leaving physical traces of their supposed affection on each other.
‘Her lordship might be busy,’ said Auntie Wan, ‘but what she cares most about is you, my lady.’
Bian Jin’s lips twitched.
Auntie Wan knocked lightly on the door of the workshop. ‘My lord, are you hungry? We’ve brought you some food.’
‘Mm,’ came Shen Ni’s absent-minded response from within.
Auntie Wan knew Shen Ni too well. When she was caught up in a particular task, she would still reply politely enough if anyone said anything to her, but none of it would register in her mind. Exactly what was said, and exactly what was going on around her — all of that would pass her by without leaving the slightest impression behind.
A good thing she isn’t working on her ladyship’s repairs, thought Auntie Wan, or I would never dare interrupt.
‘We’re coming in,’ she called out.
As she’d expected, there was another slow ‘mm’ from Shen Ni.
Auntie Want opened the door and stepped inside. Shen Ni was sitting in front of the two digital screens on her desk, propping her chin up thoughtfully in one hand and tapping idly at her keyboard with the other. Then suddenly her gaze lit up, and she began typing furiously away with both hands, seemingly heedless of the fact that her eyes were completely bloodshot.
The low table usually reserved for meals was now piled so high with documents and printed 3D models that it was quite impossible to see how it had originally looked. Silently, Bian Jin began tidying away the mess, shoving a freshly printed head of ‘Qin Wushang’ into a corner as she did so.
Auntie Wan placed both trays down on the table. ‘Won’t you have something to eat, my lord?’
‘Mm,’ said Shen Ni again. Her rapid-fire typing showed absolutely no sign of slowing down.
Auntie Wan smiled. ‘My lord, her ladyship has brought you some food.’
Shen Ni let out a yet another perfunctory ‘mm’. Then, halfway through the syllable, she seemed to come back to earth, and her pitch rose, making the ‘mm’ sound more like a question.. She turned to see Bian Jin standing beside the low table — now cleared of its clutter — and finally stopped typing.
Auntie Wan’s smile broadened. ‘Only her ladyship can rouse you from your labours, it seems, my lord. You’ve eaten almost nothing all day — you should have at least little food now. It wouldn’t do to ruin your health.’
‘Yes,’ said Shen Ni, her eyes still fixed on Bian Jin.
Bian Jin stacked the last few documents away neatly. She’d avoided looking at Shen Ni this whole time, so she’d only heard her responses. Now she was turning Shen Ni’s last ‘mm’ over in her mind. Shen Ni’s usually crisp tones had softened and slowed on that syllable, making her sound rather like an obedient child. Was she feeling tired?
Silence fell. Auntie Wan could sense from the quality of the atmosphere that Bian Jin and Shen Ni were waiting to be alone together. Discreetly, she slipped out of the workshop and closed the door behind her.
The two wives, who had not seen each other in the last few days, finally found themselves in the same room together.
Bian Jin rarely set foot in Shen Ni’s workshop. Not only was this the room were Shen Ni had made so many extensive repairs to her body, so that most of her memories of it were overlaid with pain, it was also—
Bian Jin forced herself to look away from the leather straps on the workbench. Tomorrow was the day they’d agreed upon for the first of her full-body examinations, she remembered.
‘Hurry up and eat,’ she said to Shen Ni.
‘Mm.’ Shen Ni lifted the covers on Bian Jin’s tray, and saw that the dishes there were all her favourites. In one corner sat a small round bottle.
‘What’s this?’ she asked.
‘Eye-drops.’
A faint wave of surprise rippled through Shen Ni’s bloodshot eyes. She grasped the tiny bottle in her long, slender fingers, and the corners of her mouth began curving upward bit by bit.
In her younger days, whenever she stayed up all night labouring over a particularly tricky bit of code, she would look down every now and then to see that some small thing had appeared next to her. Sometimes it was a handful of snacks, sometimes a glass of juice, sometimes a note with a slightly grumpy reminder written in a strong, fair hand: Remember to rest.
Bian Jin’s silent care had followed her about as closely as a shadow, yet had always been respectful of her wishes, giving her ample space to do what she wanted, and never impinging upon her lightly.
She’d been deliberately avoiding Bian Jin for the last two days, hoping to give her overheated feelings the chance to cool down. But now that they were face to face with each other again, she did not feel at all calm. Instead, her emotions seemed to be wound to an even higher pitch, like a spring rebounding after being compressed for too long.
Trying valiantly to ignore the sudden pounding of her heart, Shen Ni entered the data she’d gathered from the charred corpse into a specialised program she’d designed herself, instructing it to model a range of possibilities. Then she uncapped the little bottle. Unbeknownst to Shen Ni, this was a extra-potent, highly in-demand brand of eye-drops which Bian Jin had managed to purchase only by lurking on the seller’s website and waiting for a fresh batch of stock to be released.
‘Let me try this,’ she said.
Young though she might be, these several continuous days of demanding, meticulous work had left visible traces of fatigue on Shen Ni. Her hand was trembling slightly as she tilted her head back and squeezed a couple of drops from the bottle into her eyes. She missed; some of the liquid splashed into her thick lashes, the rest onto her cheeks.
Shen Ni blinked her still-dry eyes as the drops rolled down her face. That, combined with her red-rimmed eyes, made her look suddenly fragile, as if she had been just been weeping.
Bian Jin had just reached into her sleeve-pocket for her lip-rouge, intending to bring up her proposal for countering Prince Wei’s scheme. The sight of Shen Ni’s wet eyes seared its way into her vision; a strange heat bloomed across her heart. Leaving the lip-rouge where it was, Bian Jin held out her hand for the bottle.
‘You’ve dripped it all over your robes,’ she said. ‘I’ll do it for you.’
Shen Ni, a little surprised, handed the bottle to Bian Jin and leaned backwards in her chair, tilting her head back.
Bian Jin, who was standing in front of her, leaned forward, trying to get closer, and her legs bumped up against Shen Ni’s knees. For a moment, Shen Ni thought of spreading her legs so that Bian Jin could slip between them, but felt it might be rather too scandalous. So she leaned as far forward as possible instead, trying to close the gap between herself and Bian Jin.
Bian Jin looked down at Shen Ni’s upturned face. Her shimei’s usually bright, intelligent eyes were now red and swollen, making her seem like a little lost fawn. She brought the bottle’s dropper directly over Shen Ni’s eyes.
Shen Ni’s breathing quickened as Bian Jin drew near. Her body, already drooping from weariness, swayed slightly with each inhalation and exhalation.
Not wanting the eye-drops to miss their target again, Bian Jin cupped Shen Ni’s face firmly in one hand, holding her head steady.
Shen Ni’s cheek was pillowed against the soft leather of Bian Jin’s glove. A moment later, a few droplets of cool liquid fell unerringly into both of her eyes, one after the other. Even though she’d braced herself for it, the sudden intrusion still sent a shiver through her body. ‘Mm,’ she murmured, and squeezed her eyes shut against the discomfort.
Traces of moisture clung to her lashes, like pretty, delicate tears. Her chin was still nestled in Bian Jin’s palm.
Bian Jin was suddenly all too aware that the woman sitting in front of her was her wife. Had they been wives in more than name, something much more intimate should be happening between them.
She’d put on the gloves especially to ward off the strange sensitivity she felt whenever she came into contact with Shen Ni’s skin. But even with that thick layer of leather separating the two of them, she still felt a strange, damp heat rising up uncontrollably within her.
***
Author’s Note:
Diwu Que: That’s as much of a demonstration as I can give. You two will have to figure the rest of it out for yourselves. Remember to shower blessings down upon my clan!
***
Footnotes:
- In Chinese, 云梯 (pinyin: yunti), literally ‘cloud ladder’. This usually means ‘siege ladder’, but has clearly been adapted here to refer to a lift (or ‘elevator’ in US English). [return to text]
- In the original text, 卧蚕眉 (pinyin: wo can mei). A style of eyebrow which is full and thick with a very pronounced upward slant at the ends. In literature and art, it is often associated with masculine and heroic men. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 琴 (pinyin: qin). A traditional seven-string musical instrument favoured by scholars and literati and considered highly refined. [return to text]
- In the original text, 对牛弹琴 (pinyin: dui niu tan qin). The chengyu refers to the act of offering something valuable or good to a person who is unable to appreciate or understand it, similar to the English idiom ‘casting pearls before swine’. [return to text]
douqi 随笔 