Chapter 43: Extra Part 1

Dark, heavy clouds blanketed the Imperial Capital. Though autumn had set in, the rain showed no signs of letting up.

Drops of rain fell densely onto the blue bricks and dark tiles, trickling down the eaves and gradually blurring everything in sight.

Tu Chunhua peered through the carved moon window at the courtyard beyond the covered walkway. Raindrops battered the osmanthus tree in the yard, its branches dotted with tiny yellow blossoms, sending a carpet of fallen flowers to the ground.

Before long, a thick layer of osmanthus petals had accumulated on the glistening pavement.

Tu Chunhua let out another heavy sigh. What a shame—these flowers would have been perfect for brewing osmanthus brew or baking osmanthus cakes.

Shi Minda had followed her gaze outside ever since she set down her chopsticks. Spotting the osmanthus tree amid the downpour, he recalled the words Ningning had spoken to them half a month earlier.

“Mom, Dad, don’t worry. We’ll come back next year when the osmanthus blooms again. Mom, make sure you prepare those honey osmanthus cakes I love. And Dad, don’t slack off this year—brew a whole jar of osmanthus brew. We’ll share it together when I return.”

Shi Minda had smiled and agreed at the time. Yet not even half a month had passed, and he already regretted giving in to Ningning’s plea to explore the wider world.

It wasn’t that he believed she shouldn’t venture out. No, it was Tu Chunhua’s intense reaction that he hadn’t anticipated.

For the first two or three days after Ningning left, Tu Chunhua seemed fine, eating and sleeping well. But just as Shi Minda began to relax, she grew listless and melancholic.

The woman who once polished off three bowls of rice per meal now barely finished one without asking for more. It tugged at Shi Minda’s heart.

With days of rain confining them indoors, her low spirits only deepened.

Full of concern, Shi Minda ladled a bowl of corn rib and lotus root soup and held it right under Tu Chunhua’s nose.

“Even if you can’t stomach rice, have some soup. Look at you—Ningning’s only been gone a few days, and you’ve slimmed down a whole size.”

“Keep this up, and when Ningning returns next year, she won’t even recognize you. Remember what that fortune teller said about your round face being a mark of wealth and prosperity? Slim down much more, and you might lose that fortune altogether.”

“Pah, pah, pah!” Tu Chunhua snatched up her chopsticks and lightly rapped Shi Minda on the head. “What nonsense is that? My wealth is the Shi family’s wealth. Are you cursing your own house? Quick, beg Buddha’s forgiveness.”

Relieved to see her perk up with some spirit, Shi Minda eased a little and offered a few apologetic words to Buddha, as she’d suggested.

“Fine, Buddha will surely keep blessing your prosperity. Now eat something.”

Tu Chunhua eyed the bowl of rib soup before her and heaved another deep sigh.

“Do you think Ningning’s getting any meat or soup out there?” She stirred the ingredients in the bowl with her spoon but made no move to drink.

Shi Minda was at a loss for words. Ningning and the others had set out to roam the jianghu, not to take vows as nuns.

“Have you forgotten how much silver you stuffed them with before they left? With that much money, what’s to worry about meat?”

Tu Chunhua fell silent for a moment. The logic held, but her anxiety was beyond her control.

“You’re not the least bit concerned that Ningning might go hungry or suffer out there?” Irritation flickered in her eyes. She fretted over her child to the point of losing her appetite and sleep, while her husband seemed utterly unperturbed.

Shi Minda knew he was being unfairly blamed. “Don’t pin this on me. If you were so worried, why agree to Ningning’s plan in the first place?”

Now Tu Chunhua had nothing to say. She couldn’t explain it herself.

The first few days had been fine, but lately the house felt hollow, as if something vital were missing from every corner.

It wasn’t surprising. The Marquis Mansion had always been sparsely populated, and now two were gone all at once.

Yes—that was it, Tu Chunhua decided. The mansion was simply too quiet these days.

“Before, with just Ningning around, she was always sneaking off, so the place never felt all that lively. But since Zhaoran came to stay with us and recuperate, everything livened up.”

Shi Minda nodded in agreement. It was true.

His homebody-averse daughter had been tethered to the house ever since Xie Zhaoran arrived.

Her laughter rang out from morning till night.

She darted into their courtyard five or six times a day—once to borrow paper and brushes from him because Xie Zhaoran was teaching her to read and write, then to ask Tu Chunhua for fabric to sew a cushion, so Xie Zhaoran could sit more comfortably while practicing her characters.

Those days had left Tu Chunhua and Shi Minda green with envy; they’d never received such devoted care from their daughter.

“Zhaoran’s a thoughtful, prudent girl. With her looking after Ningning, you can set your mind at ease,” Shi Minda reassured her once more.

Tu Chunhua knew full well that was true. Yet knowing didn’t stop the idle worries—and Xie Zhaoran shared some blame for her current state.

During her time recuperating in the mansion, Xie Zhaoran had transformed the once chaotic household into a model of efficiency.

Every maid and manservant now knew their precise duties; no one slacked. The Marquis Mansion ran like clockwork, leaving Tu Chunhua without a single concern.

She used to have minor tasks to occupy her; now it was just waiting for meals three times a day. Idle hands, as they say, breed stray thoughts.

“I wonder where they’ve gotten to.” Tu Chunhua stared at the unrelenting rain outside, her worry genuine now.

Shi Minda tallied the days since their departure. “They should be nearing Yongzhou by now. They took the river route south to Jiangnan, so they’re likely still aboard ship.”

The thought of the girls still on a boat amid such rain deepened Tu Chunhua’s frown.

“With downpours like this, sailing the river must be perilous. They should have stuck to the roads.”

Shi Minda chuckled. “Forgotten already? Our Ningning’s an ace swimmer.”

“I wasn’t fretting over Zhaoran? She can’t swim.”

Shi Minda’s laughter grew heartier. “Rest easy—even if Zhaoran tumbles overboard, Ningning will haul her right back out.”

It wasn’t the first time, he reflected. With Ningning there, worry was needless.

As they spoke, the rain grew fiercer, the sky as if rent open, cascading without cease.

The Surging Gold River’s waters surged higher, churning murky and wild.

Amid the raging currents bobbed a passenger vessel flying the Canal Gang’s blue-and-white banner, rising and falling with the waves.

The sturdy ship, so steady in calm, now seemed frail in the tempest. From afar, it resembled a lone leaf adrift, liable to be engulfed by the next swell.

Inside the cabin, Shi Yuning’s heart ached at the sight of Xie Zhaoran—pale as a ghost, clutching a copper basin, retching up only sour bile.

“We’ll disembark at the next dock,” Shi Yuning murmured, gently patting Xie Zhaoran’s back to soothe her.

Xie Zhaoran didn’t raise her head, merely waving a limp hand. “I’m fine. The waves are just kicking up now. Don’t worry—I’ll manage.”

Shi Yuning’s distress deepened at her feeble tone and stubborn insistence.

It was her own fault. She’d asked if Xie Zhaoran got seasick, gotten a “no,” and trusted it.

Xie Zhaoran hadn’t lied; her prior voyages had been pleasure cruises on serene lakes, not rugged ferries enduring gales and storms.

Once the bout of retching passed, Shi Yuning helped Xie Zhaoran recline against a soft pillow, poured warm water, and—seeing her struggle to grip the cup—held it to her lips herself.

The warm water eased Xie Zhaoran’s stomach. Noting Shi Yuning’s worried gaze, she offered a faint smile. “Before we left, I promised Mom I’d look after you properly. Never thought you’d be the one caring for me.”

That evoked memories of their departure: Tu Chunhua gripping Xie Zhaoran’s hand, lecturing nonstop for over an hour about watching her closely outside, keeping her out of trouble.

Xie Zhaoran had solemnly promised each point. Their morning send-off stretched till sunset, the two still chattering away.

Shi Yuning had half-considered delaying till after dinner the next day, but Xie Zhaoran finally set Tu Chunhua’s mind at rest.

These days, Shi Yuning felt her own words paled beside Xie Zhaoran’s. Ten calls of “Mom” might go ignored, but one from Xie Zhaoran sufficed.

After the Shi family approved their bond, Tu Chunhua had hosted a modest ceremony in the mansion. From then on, Xie Zhaoran called her and Shi Minda “Mom” and “Dad,” and Shi Chao “Grandpa.”

Shi Yuning beamed inwardly. She longed to give Xie Zhaoran a family—and share her own.

“Don’t forget, we’re family now. Family pitches in without tallying—your turn today, mine tomorrow.”

Xie Zhaoran smiled. “Another cup of water, please.”

Shi Yuning grinned dopily. “Of course.”

She harbored a secret delight in tending to Xie Zhaoran, reveling in this unbreakable girl’s reliance on her. For Shi Yuning needed Xie Zhaoran just as fiercely, craving that mutual dependence.

They’d go on like this till old age—even toothless, passing water to one another, feeding bites of rice.

Once Xie Zhaoran’s color returned post-water, Qiangdi entered bearing a bowl of medicine.

“Miss, this seasickness medicine came from Your Majesty before we left. She said it works wonders. Drink it hot.”

Spotting Shi Yuning, Qiangdi handed over the bowl with practiced ease and discreetly withdrew.

Xie Zhaoran eyed the bowl in Shi Yuning’s hands, smiling mutely to herself. Lifting her gaze, she adopted a pitiful look, silently tapping her lips.

Shi Yuning’s cheeks flamed. Xie Zhaoran had ritualized medicine-drinking into this.

Back at Shi Mansion, her wounds demanded daily doses of foul-tasting brew. Xie Zhaoran often wheedled Shi Yuning to skip them.

Negotiations ensued each time.

It evolved: only a kiss from Shi Yuning would do.

Xie Zhaoran dubbed it the “medicine primer,” essential for efficacy.

Tolerable in their private home courtyard, but abroad? Shi Yuning squirmed.

Strangers aboard too.

Door shut or not, footfalls and voices outside made her feel on display.

Xie Zhaoran waited patiently, amusement twinkling as her beloved blushed deeper, eyes accusing her of excess.

That mix of nerves and shyness always ignited fiercer urges in Xie Zhaoran, goading her to tease harder.

Shi Yuning held her breath, ear cocked to the quiet outside, then shyly brushed Xie Zhaoran’s lips before darting back—warding off the usual cascade into fervent entanglement.

Broad daylight, on a boat; her boldness didn’t match Xie Zhaoran’s.

Yet today felt off. Shi Yuning withdrew cleanly, puzzled—no pursuit.

Xie Zhaoran caught the query in her eyes and melted at the sight: shy yet anticipatory. Disarming every time; else she’d suspect calculated allure.

A seduction savant.

Xie Zhaoran tamped her rising heat. Fresh from vomiting filth, how could she sully Shi Yuning?