Chapter 10: Heartbeat Quickening

Yu An stepped forward and bowed with full, punctilious courtesy to Second Grandmother Yu, Second Uncle Yu, and Fourth Aunt Yu. “Second Grandmother, Second Uncle, Fourth Aunt—I was young and senseless before. It won’t happen again. Huaixu and I will live a good life together.”

The bow was respectful to the bone and delivered in dead earnest, and it startled all three of them—Second Grandmother most of all.

Startled, and quietly gratified.

Yu An had been a hellion from the cradle. Aside from her very earliest years, when she’d still performed the lucky-money greetings in full, she had never once behaved like this after growing up.

While Second Grandmother Yu was still off balance, Yu An pressed on: “I will repay every coin of this money. From today on, neither you nor the clan will have cause to worry over me again.”

A few more pleasing words followed, and Second Grandmother was visibly moved—even Fourth Aunt Yu, opening her mouth to object, was waved into silence.

“Put An’er’s debt on my account—it needn’t be repaid. So long as An’er lives properly with your Grand-niece’s wife from now on, that is enough.”

Second Grandmother Yu meant every word for Yu An’s good. Fourth Aunt Yu, on the other hand, soured on the spot. Being silenced once was tolerable; but to hear Second Grandmother now offering to pay Yu An’s debts for her—she could not hold her tongue.

“Second Aunt… how can that be?”

Second Grandmother glared at her. “And why not? In the old days—”

In the days when Old Madam Yu held power, two taels of silver had been nothing—twenty taels had gone out more than once, and Fourth Aunt’s family had sat squarely on the receiving end. Now that Yu An had fallen so low, what was two taels from her?

She stopped there only to spare Fourth Aunt Yu some face in front of the younger generation. Fourth Aunt heard the warning perfectly well and shut her mouth.

None of these winding undercurrents were visible to Yu An. To her mind, she had taken over the original owner’s identity, so the debt was hers, plain and simple.

And what she owed, she had no business letting anyone else repay.

“Second Grandmother, your kindness is received and appreciated. But… this money will be repaid.”

Yu An considered a moment, then said, “Before the New Year… I will return every tael to you, Second Grandmother.”

Scorn bloomed across Fourth Aunt Yu’s face—and even Second Grandmother and Second Uncle Yu looked less than convinced.

Awkwardness crept over Yu An’s features, and she shot a pleading glance at Liu Huaixu beside her.

Liu Huaixu hadn’t said one word through the whole exchange, because from the moment Second Grandmother named the sum—two taels—she’d been quietly despairing. Scraping the house together, they might just barely produce one tael.

As for Yu An’s grand speeches, she believed none of them—but neither could she let outsiders scent discord between them.

“Second Grandmother, the household can raise one tael at present. The remaining tael will be repaid in full, and soon.”

With that, Liu Huaixu turned, went inside, and fetched the silver, pressing it into Second Grandmother Yu’s hands.

At first Second Grandmother would not take it. Liu Huaixu insisted.

As the two deadlocked, Yu An stepped forward, planting herself in front of Liu Huaixu, and bowed low. “Second Grandmother. This debt is mine—Yu An’s. The repayment falls to me and no one else. Huaixu has shouldered enough worry for this household. For me.”

Yu An paused, glanced at Liu Huaixu, and went on: “Your grand-niece cannot bear to see her carry any more of it.”

Words like these—taking blame onto herself—sounded utterly unreal from Yu An’s mouth. Liu Huaixu stared at her in open surprise, and even Second Grandmother’s gaze gentled by degrees, turning almost doting.

“Since An’er says so, Huaixu, take the money back. Let Second Grandmother see for herself whether An’er’s repentance is real.”

Yu An caught the opening without missing a beat. “Rest assured, Second Grandmother—this time your grand-niece will truly turn over a new leaf.”

The tone was solemn as an oath, and Second Grandmother’s estimation of her shifted and shifted again, her heart settling into comfort.

Yes, Yu An had played the obedient child before—but it had always been pretty words, spun to swindle pocket money. Second Grandmother had heard through every performance and simply indulged her. This time the words carried a different spine.

Aside from Liu Huaixu, the only person in the world rooting for Yu An to change was probably Second Grandmother—though Liu Huaixu dared not trust her anymore, having been burned too badly.

Second Grandmother had no such scars. The very thought of Yu An reforming filled her to the brim with joy.

After a few more exchanges of civility, Yu An and Liu Huaixu saw the visitors to the gate. At parting, Fourth Aunt Yu’s look at Yu An still smoldered with unwillingness.

With Yu An’s name still on the register, she would never rest easy.

Mostly because she didn’t believe a leopard changed its spots—and more, because she feared what Yu An might yet do to her daughter Yu Zheng’s official prospects.

When the last of them was gone, the knots in Liu Huaixu’s nerves finally came loose.

Her steps felt unsteady, and she shuffled toward the house.

Yu An, having seen the guests off, had been turning over money-making schemes. She’d been about to go consult Liu Huaixu when she turned and found her hanging off the doorframe. Three quick strides brought her over, hand out to steady her—and the hand was slapped away.

“Don’t touch me.” A thread of fury ran under the words. Yu An froze, forgetting entirely that she’d meant to support her, and simply watched Liu Huaixu shuffle, inch by inch, into her room. Before the door closed, Liu Huaixu cast her one last look—openly, coldly wary.

Yu An blinked back, doing her best to look innocuous, but Liu Huaixu shut the door without sparing her another glance.

Yu An shrugged, turned, and seated herself on the doorsill, gazing out at the courtyard.

Days of nonstop harvest work, and now this sudden idleness—she felt restless all over.

A twinge of homesickness even crept in.

Her family was gone from that world, all of them—but it had still been home for twenty years, and with no way back, Yu An couldn’t help the ache.

Life here was a little dry, after all.

No phone. No games. No appliances of any kind.

Though there were perks. The air was good. And, above all—no periods.

The only “time of the month” was the Rain-Dew Period. No pads, no cramps—just dab on some suppression ointment and be done with it…

The suppression ointment jogged her memory—that long-lost scent from that morning, and the flush on Liu Huaixu’s cheeks.

Could her pheromones have… affected Liu Huaixu?

Was that why she’d been so strange today?

Yu An got up and returned to her room. The moment she stepped inside—there it was, plain as day: peach blossom wine. She threw every window open to air the place out, and on her way back out, glanced once at Liu Huaixu’s door, thinking: with the scent gone, Liu Huaixu ought to feel a little better.

And Liu Huaixu did feel somewhat better. She’d slept badly the night before, forever feeling as though she stood in the middle of a peach grove, trying to run while something wrapped her tight. She’d woken before full light, and those wisps of peach blossom wine had left her ill at ease from body to soul.

More than that—they frightened her.

Yu An’s pheromones smelled of peach blossom wine. And she had stood so close. In her Rain-Dew Period, Liu Huaixu was sensitive enough as it was—and now her whole nose was steeped in the scent, her skin lightly stained with it.

She had waited, trembling, for daylight, wanting only to step outside and breathe—only to walk straight into Yu An the moment she opened her door. She had imagined a hundred disasters, braced for Yu An to fall into one of her old frenzies—but mercifully, Second Grandmother had arrived.

Out of doors it was a little better. Even so, her head stayed foggy—worst whenever Yu An came near.

The moment the guests were gone, Liu Huaixu fled to her room.

She dared not ask. Dared not speak.

Terrified that if Yu An ever realized she was in her Rain-Dew Period, something might be done to her.

Sometimes she couldn’t understand it herself. Yu An had been spoiled as a child, but her nature had never been wicked—how had she grown into something so hateful?

With her body settling, drowsiness crept up on Liu Huaixu, and somewhere in the middle of these thoughts, she fell asleep.

She drifted for who knew how long before a clamor of noise woke her—something heavy being set down, she thought.

She dressed, dabbed on a little more suppression ointment, and headed out.

Before she’d even crossed her threshold, she saw Yu An, forehead dewed with sweat, hauling rice.

“You’re awake?” Yu An turned at the sound, smiled, swiped the sweat from her brow, and went back to stacking the sheaves.

With the room’s scent aired out, and Liu Huaixu looking so peaked—probably catching up on sleep—Yu An had gone hunting for something to do.

The rice had only been cut yesterday, not yet brought in, so she’d borrowed a handcart from the Wu family next door and was hauling it home, load by load.

The fields were far, and four or five bundles was all she could manage per trip. An entire morning had yielded just two round trips.

Liu Huaixu only stood in the doorway and watched, giving no sign of speech. Yu An dumped a load and turned to head back to the fields.

She’d just wheeled the cart to the courtyard gate when Liu Huaixu’s voice came, sudden: “Yu An.”

Yu An turned, emitting a puzzled, “Hm?”

She could hardly be blamed for her confusion. Come to think of it, in all her days with Liu Huaixu, she had never once heard her say her name.

Liu Huaixu was always cold toward her—but the voice itself, saying her name, wasn’t half bad.

Especially the way her name sounded in it: that icy tone with a hidden turn of melody beneath. Yu An’s heartbeat skipped half a beat. She set the cart down, turned around, and beamed. “What’s up?”