Chapter 26#

Fengbing cut through the plum grove in the backyard and walked straight into the rear garden of the Pei estate.#

But this Pei estate was far too large, and with no lamps lit, he trudged along for half the day without encountering a single servant. Ornate rockeries, winding paths vanishing into seclusion—everything merely a playground for the howling night wind. Fengbing lowered his head and breathed warmth into his hands. He had only been here once before; relying on memory, the first thing he spotted was the small octagonal pavilion where Pei Dan had been painting a month ago.

That small pavilion had several warm curtains hung down. Fengbing walked up to it. On the writing desk, an inkstone covered a half-finished painting—it seemed to be a plum tree, but no blossoms had been painted on it. The ink in the inkstone had frozen solid. A wolf-hair brush lay carelessly to one side. Fengbing couldn’t help himself and went over to close the lid of the ink box, then placed the brush back into the white porcelain brush holder. Only after doing all this did he realize how foolish he was. He hung his head and hurried down the pavilion in two or three quick steps.

He couldn’t tell which direction he was going, but before him stood a small dwelling with a faint lamp glowing inside. He thought there ought to be someone wherever lamps were lit, so with a surge of stubborn defiance, he pushed the door open and walked right in.

This turned out to be a study.

An abrupt silence. All four walls were lined with tall bookshelves. Before a twelve-paneled brocade screen in the center hung a small lamp, sheltered inside a paper-and-gauze lantern patterned with layered mountains—so the light it cast was like overlapping ridges and peaks, veiled in mist and cloud. There were no more lamps beyond the screen. Fengbing circled around it, and his figure sank into the gloom.

Seeing the various writing desks and scholar’s implements, he felt a pang of regret. He was, after all, someone who had read the wisdom of the sages; he shouldn’t be trespassing into another person’s quarters like this.

But the study’s floor was also piled high with books and scrolls, making it impossible to take a step without careful caution. On one hand, he felt this scene was achingly familiar—this is Pei Dan’s study, he thought. Truly a top scholar who had read ten thousand books but couldn’t sweep a single room clean.

A click under his heel—he had stepped on a brush. He hastily sidestepped and, on instinct, bent down to pick it up. He picked it up, then realized it was inappropriate—why had he picked it up? So awkwardly, he tried to put it back where it belonged, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed three stacks of long, gold-lacquered cases on the floor.

From their shape, the cases held rolled paintings. Compared to the surrounding disheveled furnishings, they had clearly been stacked with deliberate care—the flowers, birds, and auspicious clouds on their lacquered surfaces were pristine and new, as though they had been meticulously protected. Almost against his own will, Fengbing reached out and gently pressed the clasp of one case, revealing the finely mounted painting scroll inside.

He touched it gingerly. The scroll exposed just a tiny corner on its outermost edge, inscribed with “Yongzhi Year 27, Fourth Brother’s Birthday.”

He slammed the case shut with a clang, his face burning like fire. There was no need to look further—he knew what this painting was.

Counting further down, to the tenth case. He told himself that he had only spent three birthdays together with Pei Dan, so this scroll surely couldn’t have anything to do with him. He steeled himself and unrolled the scroll. It was a painting of winter plum blossoms in the coldest days.

“Yongzhi Year 32, November 18th, Winter Solstice. Guangyou Year 1, February 9th, the end of winter.”

Beside such a dry, spare inscription, the plum tree’s branches twisted with defiant grandeur—nine cold blossoms braving wind and snow, yet none of them had been colored in. They simply stood tall and pale, stranded in the desolate, unending winter of blank whiteness.

Yongzhi Year 32 was last year—the late Emperor passed away, the new Crown Prince ascended the throne, and the era was renamed Guangyou beginning this year.

Fengbing placed the scroll back and stacked all twenty-something lacquered cases neatly as they had been. He stood there, lost in a long daze, then suddenly cried out in a hoarse voice: “Pei Dan!”

No one answered.

In this cold, empty study, there was truly no one. His shout had shattered nothing but the void itself. The lamplight trembled; only his own shadow flickered against the wall. The closed and unclosed volumes rustled with sound, as though responding to him in vain.

A deepening bewilderment locked him in place. Since arriving in the capital, Pei Dan’s help, his protection—all of it, Fengbing had seen with perfect clarity. He had even believed that Pei Dan had grown sentimental toward him, deliberately staging a belated display of deep affection now that he stood successful and accomplished. Pei Dan was a man so high above in the clouds, soaring above all others, while he himself had sunk into dust and mire—fallen into fortune’s gutter. So went fate. If Pei Dan refused to let him go, then it was Pei Dan who was shameless.

But it turned out that if Pei Dan truly wanted to let him go, it was just as easy.

At the palace banquet, before the eyes of all and amidst rows of nobles, Pei Dan had wished him success in all his desires and smooth sailing in all things.

In Pei Dan’s outside residence, he had lived over a month so quiet that mushrooms could have grown, and Pei Dan hadn’t come to check on him even once.

Going back further… it had been Pei Dan’s birthday.

He had said: Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will let go. Is that alright?

—The candle flame crackled, bursting a small firebud, startling Fengbing into raising his head. Suddenly, he understood.

Pei Dan had never wanted to win him back.

Pei Dan had helped him out of a bind, sent him gifts, arranged for him to move. Pei Dan had been suave and resourceful, gracious to all sides. Pei Dan had taken an arrow through the shoulder blade for him.

But Pei Dan had never wanted to win him back.

This is today’s second update! This section and the previous one were originally meant to be together—I separated them out of some kind of OCD… Don’t miss the previous section, everyone!