Chapter 28: She Got Really Angry, Crying and Wanting to Hit… p2
In the middle of the night, her fever rose again. Fu Tangli was so uncomfortable that she cried. In her dream, she didn’t dare to cry out loud, just sniffled and sobbed.
That man was by her side the whole time, soaking a towel in warm water and placing it on her forehead.
This made her even more uncomfortable. She struggled to grab the wet thing, and in her fumbling, she caught the man’s hand.
He said something, but Fu Tangli couldn’t hear clearly. His palm was broad and thick, and it felt cool to the touch, and it had a pleasant smell. She liked it a little and snuggled closer, rubbing against it.
He immediately withdrew his hand.
Fu Tangli was angry. When she was angry now, she just cried, and she cried hard, pat, pat.
He was clearly at a loss. He quickly offered his hand to her again.
Fu Tangli was finally satisfied. With tears in her eyes, she pressed his hand to her cheek and fell asleep.
…
When the sky brightened, Fu Tangli woke up.
The window was half-closed. The candles had burned all night, and the dying flame melted into the morning light of the spring day. The dim yellow color spread out, gradually becoming transparent. An occasional crane cry or two came from the daylight outside the window, clear, distant, and bright.
The sharkskin silk bed curtains were as thin as cicada wings, embroidered with intertwined crabapple branches, like the shadows of flowers. Through this layer of shadow, Fu Tangli saw Zhao Shangjun by her side.
He was sitting against the head of the bed, his eyes closed, in a light sleep.
Fu Tangli just watched him quietly. His sword-like eyebrows, his long and deep eyeline, his high, straight nose, and his firm lips were all clearly visible. He was indeed an exceptionally handsome man. But at this moment, a layer of green stubble had appeared on his chin, adding a touch of rugged wildness, breaking his celestial-like cool temperament.
Fu Tangli held her breath and moved uncomfortably.
Zhao Shangjun’s hand was still pillowed by her cheek. The moment she moved, he immediately opened his eyes.
Their eyes met.
Fu Tangli slowly curled her lips into a graceful and proper smile and greeted him politely, “Daoist Master.”
Zhao Shangjun was silent for a moment, then let out a “Mm.”
Fu Tangli secretly and gently pushed his hand away.
Zhao Shangjun sensed her intention and withdrew his hand. His movements were very slow. Having maintained that position all night, his hand was completely numb and almost uncontrollable. But his face was still calm, showing no sign of anything amiss.
Fu Tangli had been in a turmoil for a day and a night. Now that her fever had subsided and she was clear-headed, she had clearly returned to her usual composed and graceful self. She cleared her throat and said softly, “Thank you for taking care of me, Daoist Master. I have troubled you, which makes me very uneasy.”
“It’s nothing,” Zhao Shangjun replied simply.
Through the curtain, it was probably possible to hide one’s thoughts. Fu Tangli lowered her eyes, considered for a moment, and said tactfully, “I was young and ignorant, and I have repeatedly deceived you, Daoist Master. Now that I think about it, I regret it deeply.”
She paused, glanced at Zhao Shangjun’s expression, and made her voice even softer. “But these past few days, the Daoist Master has invited me as a guest, and there have been many improprieties. In that case, why don’t we just cancel each other out? I don’t owe you, and you don’t owe me. From now on, let’s just consider it settled.”
“No,” Zhao Shangjun replied with just one word.
His expression was placid. He just looked at his own hand, concentrating on restoring its mobility, turning his wrist, flexing his fingers. It looked like a casual action, but it exuded a fierce and untamed killing aura.
Fu Tangli was taken aback, not expecting him to refuse. She couldn’t help but ask, “Why not?”
Zhao Shangjun finally glanced at Fu Tangli. His gaze was deep and calm, like the night in the wilderness, making it impossible to fathom, and it made Fu Tangli’s heart tighten again.
“Because I said, I am petty,” he said bluntly.
Fu Tangli had nothing to say. So there was such a petty man in this world, and she had run into him. It was truly terrible. She sighed. “Why is the Daoist Master so unfeeling?”
Zhao Shangjun leaned over and reached out his hand.
Fu Tangli felt guilty and subconsciously shrank back, trying to avoid him.
But his hand only touched her forehead lightly, like a feather brushing past.
“The fever is gone. Two more doses of medicine today, and you should be better,” he said coolly, stood up, brushed his lapels, and turned to leave.
“Daoist Master,” Fu Tangli called out to him.
Zhao Shangjun stopped and turned his head slightly.
Fu Tangli hesitated for a moment, then said softly, “I want to go home. Can I?”
“Alright,” he agreed calmly.
***
The heat in the wall cavity was strong, and the room was warm and cozy. The borneol incense in the red-gold taotie beast-shaped censer was removed and replaced with “Spring Tidings in the Snow,” a gentle fragrance with a hint of sweetness.
A maid laid out a clean mattress and quilt, changed Fu Tangli’s clothes, and, afraid she would catch a chill again, only wiped her hands and face with hot orchid grass soup, which soothed her a little.
In the middle of the day, Qingxuzi came over and took Fu Tangli’s pulse.
The old Daoist was very satisfied with his medical skills. “Good, the medicine has indeed cured the illness. I will adjust the prescription for you today. Two more doses, and you should be fully recovered.”
Fu Tangli thanked him. “Thank you for your trouble, Master.”
Qingxuzi was always smiling. He waved his hand. “No trouble. The female benefactor is young and has a strong constitution. It’s not a big deal.” He winked. “But in the future, don’t just go jumping into the water. On a cold day, it’s bad for your health, not worth it.”
Fu Tangli’s ears burned. She covered her face, coughed several times, and said sheepishly, “I have a big temper and lost my head for a moment. I know my mistake and will not dare to do it again.”
Qingxuzi was a good-natured old man. As he packed his medicine box, he advised, “Xuanyan has a hard temper. No one has ever dared to confront him directly. You, don’t be foolish. Bow your head when you should, squeeze out a few tears, and cry and beg him. It will definitely work.”
Fu Tangli thought for a moment and said sincerely, “That’s too difficult. I can’t do it.”
Qingxuzi was so angry he was about to laugh. He snorted, shook his head, and walked away.
***
The sky darkened again. The spring night was warm and humid.
Fu Tangli had taken her medicine and rested for a day, feeling much better. She had a maid help her get out of bed and tentatively took two steps.
Just then, Zhao Shangjun came in and saw. His gaze darkened. “Rest. No hurry to walk around.”
Fu Tangli did not defy him. She let out a docile “Mm,” sat down, leaned against the bed, looked up at him, and discussed with him in a friendly manner, “Master Qingxu said I’m recovering well and will be fine in another day or two. I was thinking, it’s not good to trouble you too much, Daoist Master. At that time, I will take my leave and go home. What do you think?”
Zhao Shangjun did not answer. He raised his hand and clapped twice lightly.
Immediately, a maid came forward, changed Fu Tangli into a pair of thick-soled, soft lambskin boots, draped a pearl-trimmed purple sable cloak with a hood over her, and brought a small red-gold filigree enamel peony hand warmer, covered with a cloud-patterned brocade Kesi silk cover, and placed it in Fu Tangli’s arms.
The red carrot charcoal in the hand warmer was mixed with white sandalwood powder and was burning brightly. Through the hollow partition, it was warm and comfortable to the touch.
Fu Tangli touched the hand warmer. She relaxed, her whole person a little languid. “This little thing is useful, but it’s troublesome. It’s not really necessary in the room.”
Zhao Shangjun came forward and picked Fu Tangli up.
Fu Tangli was startled. “Daoist Master, how can you be so rude? Put me down quickly.”
A maid lifted the curtain and bowed respectfully to see them off.
Zhao Shangjun carried Fu Tangli out, his steps steady, his expression unchanged, and said simply, “I’m taking you home.”
Fu Tangli’s heart began to beat faster. She had wanted to say a few words of thanks, but when the words came to her lips, she felt it was not appropriate and couldn’t get them out. She could only lower her head and remain silent.
Attendants on either side held two rows of glazed palace lanterns to light the way. The lights swayed, and the surroundings were indistinct, appearing chaotic and obscure, but Zhao Shangjun’s steps were steady, like a mountain.
He was unusually tall and sturdy. His arms were strong and powerful, his chest broad and solid. Fu Tangli was nestled in them, and although she was unwilling to admit it, she felt an inexplicable sense of security and peace.
Perhaps it was late at night, and the flowers had gone to sleep. The air was filled with the scent of plants and trees, a little heavy.
Fu Tangli heard his footsteps on the stone path, making a rustling sound. The chirping of insects was like someone whispering incessantly. And there was the sound of his heartbeat, one after another, drumming in her ear.
Fu Tangli gripped the small hand warmer tightly. It was too hot, and her palms were sweating a little.
Before long, they reached the ferry crossing.
At the ferry crossing were two rows of tall, square pillars, from which hung a dense array of lanterns, illuminating the place as brightly as day.
The attendants retreated to the sides. The guards came forward, saluted in unison, and then silently made way.
A small, black-canopied boat was docked there.
Zhao Shangjun carried Fu Tangli onto the boat.
This small boat was dark and inconspicuous, but the inside was very well-appointed. The cabin under the black canopy was lined with a white fox fur blanket, with silk and grass-patterned pillows piled on top. There was also a small sandalwood and turquoise-inlaid table. At the stern hung a melon-petal-shaped, beaded, horn-cornered wind lantern.
Zhao Shangjun placed Fu Tangli in the cabin, put on her hood to shield her from the wind, and went to the bow himself. He picked up the oar, gave a powerful push, and the small boat set off.
Tonight, the clouds were light, the wind gentle. The water and the sky were of one color, both the color of the moon. The small boat cut through a river of clear light, the sound of the water splashing, disturbing the moonlight. Zhao Shangjun stood at the bow, his figure like a layered pine, his robes in the wind, his wide sleeves fluttering. He seemed to be walking on the moonlight.
Fu Tangli let out a long breath. “I didn’t expect the Daoist Master to know how to row a boat.”
Zhao Shangjun glanced back at her. “I know a little.” He pressed down on the oar, his tone cool. “As long as you don’t jump into the water, it’s fine. It’s dark, and it’s not easy to fish you out.”
Fu Tangli showed a faint smile and said calmly, “Mm, I won’t.”
Zhao Shangjun turned his face back. For a moment, there was silence. The boat rowed to the middle of the river and stopped.
He put down the oar, came over, and sat down on the outer side of the cabin. His legs were very long, and when he stretched them out, they crossed the small boat. The boat swayed a little, and the small space seemed even more cramped.
Fu Tangli’s heart was suddenly on alert. She forced a smile. “What is it? Is something wrong?”