Chapter 8: Making Peace, a Truce
Fu Tangli felt a tightness in her chest again. Unable to break free for the moment, she could only clutch the man’s Daoist robe, covering her mouth and nose, and cough twice with a frown.
The robe was far too large for her, almost completely enveloping her. With her small head peeking out, her hair slightly disheveled and fluffy, she looked surprisingly innocent and childlike.
Xuanyan had been on the verge of ordering someone to drag this young lady away and douse her with water. But for some reason, in the end, he restrained himself. With a slight wave of his hand, he said simply, “Go back.”
After saying this, he frowned and immediately left, not sparing her another glance.
Hearing the commotion, Dailuo and Yanzhi came out from the main hall. Seeing their mistress in such a state, they were both shocked and hurried forward to support her.
Fu Tangli waved her hand, signaling that she was fine.
A wind had risen, carrying a few scattered snowflakes. The bitter fragrance, mixed with the winter snow, landed in her hair—the scent of Xuanyan.
So presumptuous, so rude! Another layer of resentment was added to Fu Tangli’s heart.
However, the weather was a bit cold, and she subconsciously tightened the robe around herself. Xuanyan was such a cold person, but his body heat must have been intense. At this moment, the robe still held a lingering warmth.
***
After returning this time, Fu Tangli inevitably received a scolding from Dailuo. Matron Sun, the steward who had come from the Fu residence, finally couldn’t hold back either and gave the Second Lady a lecture. United, they confined Fu Tangli to the house for several days to recuperate.
During this time, the diligent Matron Sun even sent a letter to the residence, mentioning that the Second Lady had caught a chill and developed a cough while praying for her ancestors at the mountain temple.
The Fu residence replied the next day. Her grandfather, Fu Fangxu, wrote a few brief words, praising Fu Tangli’s commendable filial piety. As for her father, Fu Zhihe, he wrote a long letter, the gist of which was that Fu Shaoyao was suffering greatly in the ancestral hall, and he urged Fu Tangli to return to the residence as soon as possible to plead with Fu Fangxu for her release.
Fu Tangli read the letter over and over a few times but saw no mention of her own illness, though it wasn’t really an illness. She smiled indifferently and casually tossed the pages aside.
In the following days, the snow stopped, the sun came out, and the weather warmed slightly. Fu Tangli’s cough had mostly subsided, and she went to Yunlu Temple again.
The white plum blossoms, having endured the snow, bloomed even more profusely, seeming to want to climb over the wall. A young Daoist was sweeping the mountain gate and stone steps with a broom. In winter, there were no fallen leaves, only a few scattered patches of unmelted snow, creating a world of pristine cleanliness.
Fu Tangli had just entered the mountain gate when she heard the clear cry of a crane. She followed the sound and saw Xuanyan standing on a high platform in the distance.
He was holding his zither, perhaps having just returned from the plum grove. Standing high against the wind, his robes fluttered as if he were an immortal. Two white cranes flew around him, one on each side, their cries echoing.
Fu Tangli looked around and saw Xuan’an standing at the foot of the high platform, so she beckoned to him.
Xuan’an ran over, his expression a little strange. “The female benefactor is here again?”
Fu Tangli took a neatly folded Daoist robe from Yanzhi’s hands and presented it to Xuan’an. “This is Daoist Master Xuanyan’s robe. Please return it to him.”
Xuan’an took it, hesitating. “This…”
Fu Tangli’s expression was composed. She smiled and pointed to the robe. “This robe has been washed clean, dried over a silver charcoal fire, and scented with lotus stamen incense three times. Perhaps Daoist Master Xuanyan will still find it distasteful and will likely throw it away. But for me, this is a matter of proper etiquette. It should be returned. I ask Daoist Master Xuan’an to pass it on for me.”
Xuan’an bowed in return, took the robe up to the high platform, and said a few words to Xuanyan.
Xuanyan seemed to glance in her direction, his gaze cool and emotionless, before turning and leaving.
The white cranes craned their necks and cried out twice, then spread their wings and flew away.
Fu Tangli paid it no mind and turned to enter the Hall of the Celestial Worthy to offer incense.
Yunlu Temple was as deserted as ever. Besides Fu Tangli, there were no other visitors. Qingxuzi was not here today; the Daoist on duty had been replaced by Xundu.
After offering incense, Fu Tangli casually asked, “May I ask where Master Qingxuzi is today?”
Xundu’s face was wary. “May the Celestial Worthy grant immeasurable blessings. Master is not here. We are not short of incense money. Senior Brother is not copying scriptures. Female benefactor, please do not ask again.”
He was like a bird startled by the mere twang of a bowstring.
Fu Tangli smiled. “It’s alright. Perhaps if I come again tomorrow, Master Qingxu will be here.”
Xundu glared at her.
Fu Tangli, calm and unruffled, tucked her hands into her sleeves and slowly walked out of the Hall of the Celestial Worthy.
Xuan’an came over to meet her and cupped his hands in a bow. “Benefactor, Senior Brother invites you for tea.”
Hah, this is truly flattering. Fu Tangli, her face a picture of calm, nodded and smiled. “In that case, I shall impose.”
Xuan’an led the way, guiding Fu Tangli and her two maids toward the back courtyard of the temple. They passed the Hall of the Four Rhythms and the Hall of the Three Pure Ones, then walked through a covered corridor. Beside the Flying Immortal Terrace was an elegant cottage, built of ebony, with a long, wide veranda and iron horse-shaped wind chimes hanging from the eaves.
A young attendant lifted the curtain and invited the guests inside.
The floor of the cottage was made of cedar wood planks, raised three inches off the ground. When one walked on it, it made a faint, hollow echo, accentuating the silence.
Inside, there were two mats and a low table. A zither hung on the white wall. There were no other furnishings, making it as plain as a snow cave.
Xuanyan was sitting on the floor. Seeing Fu Tangli arrive, he raised his hand slightly and said a single word: “Sit.”
It was strange. He was just a mountain Daoist, yet his tone carried a natural, commanding authority, as if he would not tolerate any defiance.
Fu Tangli’s demeanor was graceful and poised. She sat down as instructed. Dailuo and Yanzhi stood behind her with their hands clasped.
In front of Xuanyan were a charcoal box, a tea kettle, a sifter, a water bowl, a tall cup, and other items, as well as a small red clay stove. The fire in the stove was burning brightly, and the water was already boiling, bubbling in the kettle.
The cottage was quiet and secluded, the light a mixture of bright and dim. Xuanyan sat in this half-light, his manner distant, his voice cool. “Why have you come today?”
Fu Tangli’s expression was serene. She replied, “If I were to say that I have come to apologize to you, Daoist Master, for my previous presumptuousness, would you believe me?” Before Xuanyan could answer, she smiled and, in a leisurely manner, asked a question of her own. “And why has the Daoist Master invited me for tea today?”
Xuanyan was brewing the tea and did not look up. “For no other reason than that I have nothing else to do.”
Fu Tangli accepted this and, smiling, said no more.
After a short while, the water came to a rolling boil. The steam gradually filled the air, its aroma somewhat spicy and bitter, which made Fu Tangli’s throat feel uncomfortable again. She endured it for a while, but finally couldn’t hold back. She turned her face away, covered her mouth with her sleeve, and let out two low coughs.
Xuan’an, standing to the side, looked as if he were facing a great enemy and was about to lunge forward.
Xuanyan, however, merely glanced up. His expression was relatively calm, showing no displeasure. Instead, he lifted his sleeve, poured a bowl of tea, placed it on the table, and pushed it toward Fu Tangli. “Drink.”
Fu Tangli stopped coughing and looked down.
The tea was steaming and dark. When she brought it closer, the bitter smell became even more pronounced. It did not smell pleasant at all.
“Is the Daoist Master poisoning me?” she asked seriously.
Xuanyan’s face was expressionless. “Ginseng and Perilla Decoction. It dispels cold and stops coughs. Drink.”
The Daoist Master’s sentiment was so overwhelming that Fu Tangli found it hard to bear. Her brows knitted together. After a long hesitation, she reluctantly picked up the bowl, took a sip, and looked up at Xuanyan.
Xuanyan’s eyebrows did not even twitch.
Fu Tangli took another sip and looked at Xuanyan again.
His expression was still cold, unchanged. In fact, his gaze had become even sterner.
Fu Tangli took the opportunity to put down the bowl. “Does the Daoist Master feel that you were too harsh on me before, and this is a gesture of goodwill?”
As she said this, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes like water, holding a hint of cunning innocence.
Xuanyan made a low sound from his nose, something between a snort and a laugh.
Fu Tangli thought for a moment, then blinked. “Or perhaps, you are afraid that I will ask you to copy more scriptures, and this is a peace offering?”
Xuanyan’s fingers tapped twice on the table. He uttered two simple words: “Drink tea.”
“This is medicine, not tea.” Fu Tangli sighed. “To be honest, I’m afraid of bitterness. May I be so bold as to decline the Daoist Master’s kind offer and not drink it?”
“You may not,” Xuanyan said, unmoved. “You come here frequently. I will not tolerate anyone coughing and sniffling in the temple. Drink.”
Fu Tangli felt a slight urge to smash the bowl over Xuanyan’s head, but she looked at his tall and imposing figure, considered for a moment, and decided she lacked the strength. She restrained herself, sighed again, and began to drink the medicine.
The medicine was too bitter and too hot. Fu Tangli drank it slowly and hesitantly. By the time she finished, her eyes were once again shimmering with unshed tears.
Xuanyan pushed a small white jade dish in front of her and said another single word: “Sugar.”
On the small dish were a few sugar cubes, amber in color, sprinkled with golden osmanthus petals.
Fu Tangli was taken aback. She couldn’t help but glance at Xuanyan. He was still sitting upright, his expression composed, showing no trace of anything unusual.
Fu Tangli slowly picked up a sugar cube and put it in her mouth. It was probably also a kind of medicine. The osmanthus was sweet, with a cool taste in the middle and a slightly bitter aftertaste. As it melted and went down her throat, it left a hint of sweetness.
She lowered her eyes, and a tear unknowingly fell from the corner of her eye.
Xuanyan finally frowned. “Is it that bitter?”
Fu Tangli turned her head, quickly wiped her eye with her fingertip, and in an instant, her serene demeanor returned. “It’s just that I remembered the old days. Whenever I drank medicine, my grandmother would always give me a piece of candy. The scene seems like yesterday, but yesterday cannot be relived. I was overcome with sadness for a moment. I have made a fool of myself before you, Daoist Master.”
Ever since her grandmother had passed away, no one had ever coddled her like this.
Xuanyan was likely unable to respond to such a topic and fell silent.