Chapter 43

Chapter 43

It was the seventh year of Yin You, three years ago.

Grand Secretary Du had passed away for over three years; the mourning period was twenty-seven months.

Huishu recalled that not long after the young lady had completed the mourning rites, she mentioned setting a wedding date to the Third Master.

Though the Third Master never fully recovered, his health was relatively stable. The young lady wanted the wedding in the latter half of the year, but the Third Master kept delaying his agreement. She asked several times, yet the date was repeatedly postponed.

When autumn came in the latter half of the year, the Third Master’s condition gradually worsened. When she asked again, he said to wait until the following spring or summer when he might improve.

But she grew angry and refused to wait any longer. She consulted with both families' elders and settled on the sixteenth day of the twelfth month for the wedding.

She said it was to bring him luck.

When the Third Master received the news, he changed clothes at once and went to see his parents. His parents were startled by his sudden visit.

He'd become gravely ill at the end of the sixth year of Yin You and hardly left home all year, let alone rushing to his parents' quarters like this.

His father asked what he wanted. He replied that his health was failing, "The wedding date is too soon. I can't recover in time, nor greet Jing at the ceremony."

He wanted to postpone the wedding again.

His mother began to cry, saying the young lady set the date and wished to bring him luck.

"If you're not better by then, it's fine. Have Liulang fetch the bride for you, and you can simply wait at home. Perhaps Jing’s luck will truly help you."

This made the Third Master sigh and chuckle. "Mother, how many gods have you prayed to over the years? If prayers could heal me, I would have been well long ago. Besides, I won't have her marry me for luck."

He refused, and his father said, "But this is the date Jing insisted on. If we keep postponing, people might think that since Grand Secretary Du died, we look down on her. We mustn't embarrass her."

His father added, "If you truly disagree, go and discuss it with Jing yourself."

They couldn't decide for him. The Third Master returned to his own courtyard and had a carriage readied.

It was nearly dark by then. Though both the Jiang and Du families were in Qingzhou, they were some distance apart.

Huishu urged him to wait till morning, but he shook his head. Huishu had to go with him.

As they rode to the Du residence, the Third Master sat silently inside. Huishu wondered how he'd bring it up with the young lady once they arrived at Mianlou.

Huishu worried they might quarrel over the wedding date, and he worried silently.

When the carriage finally reached the Du residence, the Third Master did not have anyone knock on the door. Instead, he stood among trees outside Mianlou, gazing up at the building.

Night had fallen completely, and a bright moon hung over Mianlou. The second floor was lit—she was surely working with her books at this hour.

The Third Master kept his eyes fixed on the illuminated window. For a moment, the young lady seemed to pass by, her shadow cast against the window by the lamplight.

Huishu saw him smile faintly as he watched her figure from below.

The moon slid from one side of Mianlou to the other, and the night wind in the grove grew colder. Suddenly, the light on the second floor went out—she'd finished and was coming down.

Sure enough, not long after, he heard voices in the courtyard—Qiu Lin and others talking, with the young lady occasionally responding.

Huishu thought this was his chance for the Third Master to speak with her.

Yet, to his surprise, the Third Master remained in the grove, listening as the voices in the courtyard gradually faded away, never calling for her.

Huishu was puzzled, but the Third Master turned away. "Let’s go back."

"Go back? What about the wedding date?" Huishu couldn’t help but ask.

In the moonlight, Huishu saw the sickly young man's faint smile.

"Since she's set it, then let it be the sixteenth of the twelfth month."

That day, the Third Master returned without meeting the young lady. On the way back, Huishu saw he'd calmed. He looked out the carriage window, his eyes soft in the moonlight.

The Jiangs had long since prepared the Third Master’s wedding attire—a crimson robe with gold embroidery, of red brocade given by Imperial Dowager Consort Jiang from the palace.

Yet the Third Master grew increasingly frail. From the ninth month to the eleventh, before the wedding date arrived, his wedding robes had already been altered twice.

His illness also worsened. His mother wept every time she came to see him. Coincidentally, Dr. Li, who had treated the Third Master before, returned to Qingzhou after half a year of travel in the capital. A highly skilled physician and a renowned doctor in Qingzhou, the Jiang family immediately sought his consultation again.

Since the prescription Dr. Li had left half a year ago was still in use, it would naturally be beneficial to have him adjust the treatment with a new prescription.

But the Third Master stopped his mother, saying the original prescription was sufficient and there was no need to trouble the doctor to make a special trip to the Jiang residence.

Yet Huishu could clearly see the Third Master’s declining health. One evening, fearing he might catch a chill, Huishu went to add another brazier of charcoal to his study, only to find him collapsed over his desk.

When his mother rushed over upon hearing the news, her hands trembled. Fortunately, the Third Master regained consciousness shortly after.

Huishu insisted that he had fainted and that Dr. Li should be summoned, but the Third Master claimed he had merely fallen asleep. "There’s no need for Dr. Li. A long illness makes one a doctor—I know my own condition."

He stubbornly refused to see a physician. His mother could do nothing, but Huishu secretly sent word to the Du family.

At the time, Mianlou had just received a shipment of books from Jiangnan.

These were the books of a late bibliophile from the south. Three years after his death, his heirs fought over the inheritance and sold off the painstakingly collected library to divide the assets. In the blink of an eye, the book tower collapsed, and various collectors scrambled to acquire the volumes. Naturally, Mianlou of the Du family could not miss this opportunity.

Ideally, the young lady should have gone to Jiangnan herself, but with the wedding approaching and her concern for the Third Master, she only sent Ruan Gong and Shopkeeper Zhao on the trip.

Now that the two had returned with two cartloads of books, the young lady was naturally too busy in Mianlou to spare time for the Jiang family. Several days had passed since her last visit, and the Third Master, of course, could not go to her either.

Had it not been for his persistent refusal to see a doctor, Huishu would not have disturbed her.

That day, after sending the message, the messenger returned—with the young lady following right behind.

At the time, the Third Master was standing before the medicine cabinet in the side room.

As a long-term patient, he was accustomed to handling various herbs. For days now, instead of troubling the servants, he had been personally preparing the medicine from Dr. Li’s prescription at the cabinet.

Huishu noticed that sometimes, the herbs he used did not entirely match Dr. Li’s prescription.

That day, the Third Master was again preparing his own medicine when, halfway through, the young lady arrived.

Her footsteps entered the side room as she called out, "Sanlang." Huishu saw the Third Master’s hand pause mid-motion.

Frowning, she stepped forward. "Why won’t you let Dr. Li examine you?"

Instead of answering, the Third Master set aside the half-prepared medicine and glanced out the window. The bamboo in the courtyard bent under the wind, rustling incessantly.

"Why have you come? The wind is fierce today."

Then, realizing, he turned with a resigned sigh. "Huishu..."

He scolded him for fetching the young mistress on such a blustery day.

Before Steward Hui could speak, the young mistress spoke first.

"Why are you blaming Steward Hui?"

She only asked him, "Are you avoiding the doctor on purpose? And keeping Steward Hui from telling me, aren’t you?"

Her voice grew heavier, and Third Young Master couldn’t bear to see her like this, quickly saying,

"No, don’t be angry."

He added, "Sit down first, and I’ll explain slowly."

As he spoke, he signaled a servant to bring fresh tea. When the tea arrived shortly after, he waved them away.

He had always poured tea for her himself, and today was no different.

But after just a few steps, he began to grow short of breath, startling the young mistress—she hadn’t realized his illness had grown so severe.

"You don’t need to trouble yourself, I can pour my own tea."

Yet Third Young Master wouldn’t let her lift a finger. He needed no one else to do this for him, bending his head as he poured her tea. "I’m not so weak that I can’t even pour tea."

The young mistress only watched him, her brows tightly knit into a frown.

Third Young Master, however, saw nothing amiss. After pouring her tea, he brought over a plate of tea cakes, warming them on the small stove for her, then fetched a blanket to tuck around her legs before asking,

"How were the books you acquired this time? Since you couldn’t go yourself, I imagine you missed out on some good ones."

That wasn’t important, the young mistress shook her head.

The Mian Library had collected books from across the land since her grandfather’s time, passed down through her father to her—it was never a task accomplished in a day.

She said Ruan Gong and Shopkeeper Zhao had brought back quite a few this time. "Enough to keep the Mian Library busy for a while," she said, her gaze softening slightly. "We were fortunate to acquire two Song dynasty editions. Though just two, it brings you one step closer to your goal of collecting a hundred."

Her words left Third Young Master momentarily stunned. Gazing into her calm eyes, he said, "Gathering a hundred Song books isn’t the work of a day either. If I falter, Quan Quan, don't push yourself—there's no hurry..."

Before he could finish, the young mistress cut him off.

"What are you saying, Third Brother? Instead of thinking about that, why not have Doctor Li give you a thorough examination?"

As she spoke, she turned directly to call for someone. "Chang Pu, go and fetch Doctor Li for Third Young Master—"

But before Chang Pu could respond, Third Young Master reached out and took her hand.

"Quan Quan, don’t."

The room fell silent, the heavy scent of medicine lingering in the air.

The young mistress, in turn, clasped his hand. "Why?"

Steward Hui and Chang Pu both stepped aside.

Through the lattice-patterned screen door, they heard Third Young Master sigh helplessly.

"Doctor Li’s medicine is unbearably bitter. If you call him again, he’ll only add more bitter tonics to my remedies."

The young mistress seemed surprised by his answer.

"What medicine in the world isn’t bitter? How can you refuse it for that?"

Third Young Master shook his head and sighed again.

The young mistress then said, "Then I’ll take it with you, alright? Bitter medicine is most effective, but I want you to get better."

Her voice trembled slightly, and Steward Hui felt his own eyes grow warm. But Third Young Master refused.

"Isn’t one person suffering enough? Must two endure it? Even if you take it for me, will it make it any less bitter for me?"

He spoke these words in one breath, panting slightly, but the young mistress’s tears fell with a quiet plop.

Third Young Master panicked at once. Softly calling her name, "Quan Quan," he said, "It’s just a matter of taking medicine—don’t cry. Your eyes are delicate; you mustn’t shed tears."

"Then you should take your medicine properly, without skipping a single dose. We’re to be married in the twelfth lunar month," the young mistress choked out before suddenly asking, "Don’t you want me to marry you?"

Tears welled in Steward Hui’s aged eyes. Even Chang Pu, usually so mischievous, rubbed his reddened nose.

Behind the lattice, Third Young Master’s voice was hoarse, but he smiled.

"How could I not want that?"

"But you keep delaying, and now you won’t even take your medicine properly..."

Third Young Master took out a handkerchief to wipe the tears from the young mistress’s eyes, coaxing her gently. "The reason I don’t want Doctor Li to come is that I’ve modified the formula myself—to make it at least palatable. Besides, I’ve read medical texts and researched alternative treatments, which differ from his. Let me try my own way."

He said once he succeeded, "Perhaps young Master Liulang won’t even need to serve as my proxy at the wedding... Don’t cry."

But the young mistress buried herself in his embrace, resting her cheek against his chest.

"You *must* get better!"

Beyond the lattice, Third Young Master went rigid for a moment, but he didn’t embrace her as tightly as she held him.

He had once said his body was as cold as ice in the depths of winter, while the young mistress was no warmer than a gentle mountain brook. How could he draw away what little warmth she had left, pulling her into the same frozen depths?

He only gathered her lightly, one hand gently stroking her long hair.

He said he would recover, told her not to cry, then added, "Quan Quan, I can barely remain upright."

Fearing he might stumble, the young mistress quickly pulled away. "You must sit and rest immediately."

He agreed but didn’t move, only saying of the medicine he’d adjusted, "It always makes me drowsy. I’m quite exhausted—you should go back now."

He urged her to leave, but she wished to stay longer. He shook his head. "I’ve only so much energy left. Save some for me—I must write a letter to young Master Liulang, telling him to devote himself to his studies in Jinan under his mentor."

He urged her to leave, refusing to let her stay. Reluctantly, the young mistress left the Jiang residence, looking back repeatedly as she went.

Yet once she was gone, he didn’t write to young Master Liulang. The letter was already written the day before and dispatched earlier.

He simply sat where he had been, silent, as if the young mistress were still in the room. He topped up her teacup halfway.

Doctor Li never arrived.

Third Young Master’s illness didn’t improve as he claimed—instead, it worsened. The hours he spent conscious and coherent each day were few and far between.

But he ordered that no one breathe a word—whether his father, his mother, the young mistress, or young Master Liulang.

Yet Steward Hui noticed the chinaberry seeds in the apothecary cabinet were diminishing, while Third Young Master went behind his back, discreetly directing servants to procure more—and in substantial quantities.

The bitter chinaberry seeds are most unsuitable for someone like Third Master, who suffers from a cold and weakened spleen and stomach—not only are they bitter, but also poisonous.

Uncle Hui was deeply disturbed. The day after learning of this, he quietly followed Third Master's movements.

He observed as Third Master rose routinely, sipped some warm porridge, then sat in the study for a while, reading for two ke before practicing calligraphy.

Then, during a break, he went to the herb cabinet in the side room to personally select his own herbs.

As always, he first lit incense in the side room to clear the medicinal odor, washed his hands, dried them, and then picked out the herbs he needed for the day from the wall of cabinets.

His expression remained unreadable as still water, showing no sign of disturbance.

But Uncle Hui saw him quietly select handful after handful of bitter chinaberry seeds and mix them with other herbs.

Uncle Hui stood frozen outside the window as Third Master called over the young maid in charge of brewing medicine. Noticing the fresh silk flowers in her hair, he smiled gently and asked, "Did the peddler come by yesterday? I heard his calls too."

As he spoke, he took a string of cash and handed it to the girl. She asked, "Does Third Master want to buy silk flowers too? The peddler said even men wear them."

Third Master chuckled. "That would suit handsome, vigorous men—not a consumptive wretch like me."

The girl, sensible enough, quickly replied, "Don’t say that, Third Master! You’ll get better. We’re all looking forward to your wedding!"

Third Master laughed even more and said, "Then prepare two more decoctions for me."

With that, he handed the herbs—adulterated with a large amount of bitter chinaberry seeds—to the girl.

The young maid, unaware of the danger, took the herbs and turned to leave.

Uncle Hui suddenly burst into the room and knocked the medicine from her hands.

The girl was startled, but he paid no mind, staring straight at the man by the herb cabinet.

"Third Master!"

Third Master met his gaze, pausing for a breath before his expression smoothed into perfect calm. He gestured for the maid to leave.

Now alone in the room, Third Master regarded Uncle Hui’s distraught expression with the stillness of an untroubled lake and spoke softly.

"Uncle Hui, I willed this so."

Willingly. Willingly replacing his life-saving medicine with a body-destroying poison, drinking two bowls daily until he could hasten his journey to the Yellow Springs.

Uncle Hui trembled uncontrollably, staring at Third Master’s serene face, and asked,

"How much time does Third Master have left?"

Half a year ago, Physician Li had said that with careful care, Third Master could still live another year or so. Even after six months, there should still be a year remaining.

But Third Master murmured, "By the twelfth lunar month."

Before the La month—less than half a month. And her wedding was set for the sixteenth…

"Why?" Uncle Hui asked, voice shaking.

The winter wind rustled the bamboo encircling the courtyard outside.

Third Master’s voice remained tranquil amid the sound.

He said it was for no reason, his gaze drifting to the bamboo grove beyond the window.

"I just don’t want to live anymore."

Then, as if remembering something, he added,

"Don’t tell her."

*

In the innermost hall of Hongluo Temple, the main hall enshrined the Three Saints—Amitabha Buddha in the center, flanked by Avalokiteshvara and Mahasthamaprapta. The murals on either side depicted the Twenty Devas.

The gods gathered in silence, bearing silent witness to all under heaven.

Uncle Hui recalled the events of three years ago with Third Master, his heart clenched with grief.

In truth, Third Master had forbidden him not just from telling the girl, but from telling anyone. He only wished to leave quietly.

But that year, when Liulang rushed back from Jinan and saw Third Master already gone, he refused to believe it. Liulang insisted on observing filial mourning for Third Master, even abandoning the next year’s imperial exams to remain at home, never leaving Third Master’s courtyard. Sometimes, Uncle Hui would wake in the middle of the night to find Liulang still murmuring before Third Master’s spirit tablet—or simply calling out to it again and again.

"Brother, brother, come back… I was waiting to go to the capital with you…"

Once, unable to hold back, Uncle Hui let slip a few words to Liulang.

Now, before the divine statues, Uncle Hui regretted it bitterly.

Jiang Fengchuan turned to Dowager Consort before the Buddha.

"Your Grace, why did my brother do this? Why would he…"

He couldn’t bring himself to say the word—it cut too deep. But he forced himself to continue, "Why would he take his own life by his own hand?"

Take his own life by his own hand. If he had truly been beyond the help of medicine and succumbed to illness, Jiang Fengchuan would never have troubled her peace.

But that wasn’t the case.

He only asked Dowager Consort Jiang, "Your Grace, why?"

Dowager Consort Jiang closed her eyes. The divine statues witnessed all beneath heaven.

She turned to the child who had been abandoned in youth but raised by Third Master.

"Liulang, Third Master willed it so. He did so willingly."

"But I can’t accept it…"

What did he mean by not wanting to linger another year or half? Nothing more than allowing the one he loved to begin afresh.

Jiang Fengchuan knelt before the divine statues. "Brother bade me keep silent, so I won’t tell her. But she shouldn’t forget him. Who else in this world could hold her in such tender regard as he did? I only ask that she remember him always—is that too much?"

He bowed before the gods, imploring heaven for answers.

Dowager Consort Jiang remained silent, then sighed heavily.

She could not speak for the gods or the dead. She could only call to the one kneeling in prayer.

"Your priority now is the imperial exams. Your brother wrote so many letters of recommendation for you, hoping you would bring honor to Jiang Shi as a palace graduate. Stay here with me and devote yourself to preparation."

Then, with another sigh, she added,

"And think carefully about what your brother truly meant by his actions."

With that, Dowager Consort Jiang, supported by nanny Pu, left the hall.

Someone knelt before the statue of the deity until the sky gradually darkened.

Hui Shu watched from behind and couldn't help but step forward. "Sixth Young Master, your injuries haven’t healed. You shouldn't kneel any longer."

The young man lowered his body and bowed three more times before the statue before finally rising.

"Her Ladyship asked me to reflect deeply about what Eldest Brother really intended with his actions back then."

He said he had thought deeply, but then abruptly changed the subject, turning to Hui Shu.

"Hui Shu, do you think... Eldest Brother might have had other reasons besides letting her go?"

Other reasons? Hui Shu was puzzled.

Jiang Fengchuan looked outside. "Maybe there’s more to it... something I’m unaware of."

Suddenly, he asked Hui Shu, "Hui Shu, is there something else you haven't told me? For example, when the Marquis of Yongding married her by imperial decree, you didn’t seem very surprised when the news arrived."

The words made Hui Shu inhale sharply, and he quickly replied,

"No, Sixth Master, don’t jump to conclusions!"

*

In Jiqing Lane, at the Marquis of Yongding’s estate.

The anniversary of Jiang Zhuxiu’s passing was near.

Qiu Lin noticed that the young lady had tired herself out from reading in the afternoon. While taking a stroll in the backyard, she suddenly stopped by the bamboo grove behind the main courtyard.

The young lady said nothing but stood outside the bamboo grove for half an hour before silently leaving.

At that moment, Ai Ye came out of the main chamber and said to Qiu Lin,

"Madam has sighed softly several times. I wonder what’s on her mind."

Qiu Lin could guess the general reason. She glanced toward the chamber.

"The anniversary of Third Master’s passing is coming up. Madam likely wishes to pay her respects but doesn’t know how to bring it up with the Marquis, right?"

Hearing this, Ai Ye also understood.

"This... is a delicate matter to bring up."

Neither knew how to proceed, unaware that a man had stopped just beyond the wall where they were speaking. The man glanced at them, then also looked toward the chamber, pausing briefly.

Inside the chamber, Du Lingjing plucked a bamboo leaf.

She had picked it up but for some reason, she didn’t know what to do with it. Holding it in her hand, she was lost in her thoughts when she suddenly noticed someone returning from outside.

She looked up, and the man also lowered his gaze to her, immediately spotting the bamboo leaf in her palm.

Du Lingjing’s heart clenched slightly.

She wasn’t sure how he’d respond but didn’t want to cause another argument over this matter.

Yet, he stepped forward, lowering his voice gently.

"In a few days, it will be Jiang Jieyuan’s memorial day, won’t it? I’ll go with you to honor him."