"Jun, believe me, if we survive tonight, we'll find a place where nobody knows us and live happily ever after."
Startled, Jun woke up.
She opened her eyes to a bleak white ceiling, devoid of delicate gauze or carved bedposts. Jun felt momentarily confused, unsure of her whereabouts and the inexplicable dream she just had. Who was the man speaking, and who was the Jun he called?
The bed was hard, causing Jun discomfort all over her body. She forced herself to sit up and, by chance, glanced at the handkerchief she held. It had a bright red base with a peony embroidered in golden thread…
It all came back to her. She was in the Zou Mansion. Yan, the man she met last night, let her in, he only instructed her, "Don't wander around," and hadn't shown up.
Thinking about those eyes in the trees and bushes, Jun didn't dare to wander around. She sat obediently in the main room on a grand chair, intending to sort out her experiences along the way. However, her eyelids quickly started a battle. In a half-dream, half-awake state, Jun remembered telling herself, "Absolutely must not fall asleep. What if that person has malicious intentions?"
It seemed that Jun misunderstood Yan. Not only did he has no malicious intentions, but he also moved her from the chair to the bed.
Recalling this, Jun quickly lowered her head to inspect herself. Her red wedding attire was intact, and the button with a phoenix and peony pattern, securely fastened at her waist, reached up to her neck.
Alright, Yan was undoubtedly a righteous gentleman. After confirming this once again, Jun stood up. She intended to meet this guy.
The main building of the Zou Mansion wasn't particularly large, and Jun couldn't find Yan's figure in either of the two rooms.
Stepping out of the main building, a refreshing breeze greeted Jun, carrying the scent of early summer mornings, fresh grass, and dew.
Jun took a deep breath, pausing her steps as she surveyed the small courtyard before her.
In the northwest corner, several rocks stood tall, with a murmuring mountain spring flowing under a bridge. On the bridge, a stone carving shepherd boy played a bamboo flute while riding on the back of an old ox. Jun could almost hear the melodious flute sound.
In the southeast corner of the courtyard hung a grapevine. The fruits hadn't ripened yet in this season, and each grape was adorned with sparkling dewdrops, resembling translucent gemstones.
From this perspective, it seemed that the owner of the courtyard was a refined person, on par with the elegance of Duke Duan. However, this residence was much smaller than the Duke's mansion, and the furnishings were simple...
Thinking of this, Jun suddenly stopped in her tracks and chuckled to herself. She realized she was an outsider. Wherever she went, she would always be a guest relying on the hospitality of others.
The east wing room was Yan's study, and it was equally simple. There was a desk by the window, with nothing on it except writing brushes, ink, paper, and ink-stone, along with a few thread-bound books. Jun walked up to the desk and immediately noticed two prominent characters written on a white sheet of paper.
Ordinary Manchu girls were generally illiterate, but Jun was an exception. Without much effort, she recognized them: "革命" (Revolution), meaning the elimination of old things and the establishment of a new world.
Was it Master Weng who taught her this? But Master Weng, who kept his long braided hair and would lie down to smoke an opium after lecturing for a while, didn't seem to belong in the same category as the revolutionary party wielding long spears and engaging in battles.
"Ah!"
A roar pierced Jun's eardrums, startling her.
Her initial reaction was that the old ox ridden by the shepherd boy had been stung by a bee or stepped on a bamboo thorn, causing it to let out a painful howl. But then she laughed at herself for being foolish. Both the old ox and the shepherd boy were stone carvings, so where would the sensations of soreness come from?
Another roar followed, and Jun listened carefully. This time, she sensed restraint and self-control. It seem like someone in unbearable pain who would cry out.
Jun followed the sound and arrived at the entrance of the west wing room.
The door was slightly ajar, and Jun pushed it open and entered.
The room was filled to the brim with items. With a quick glance, Jun saw featherless shuttlecocks, broken-winged bamboo dragonflies, and kites with severed strings. Jun chuckled to herself, realizing that Yan was truly a penny-pinching individual, cherishing even the tattered items from centuries ago.
"Didn't I tell you not to wander around?"
A voice drifted into Jun's ears, like a wisp of air.
Jun followed the voice and looked towards the corner of the room, where a white figure was curled up. She hurried over and was about to reach out to the person, but he recoiled as if pricked by a needle, curling up even tighter, as if trying to squeeze his entire body into an eggshell.
Seeing this, Jun's patience vanished.
"If you don't make a fuss, would I run amok?"
Jun's counterattack shattered Yan's metaphorical eggshell, and the man transformed from a chick inside its shell to one that was out, with a more relaxed and open expression. Yan glanced at Jun, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Did I wake you up?"
Yan yielded, and naturally, Jun no longer remained on edge. She softened her tone and asked Yan what had happened.
"It's nothing..." Yan avoided Jun's gaze.
"Nothing?" Jun grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing Yan to face her directly. She saw that his complexion was pale, with beads of sweat dotting his forehead. His lips were tinged with a bluish hue, and he couldn't stop trembling.
"If you're fine, then I'll write my name backward." Jun's heart inexplicably tightened as she said that. Yan's condition made her feel a twinge of pain.
"Your name is so complicated that even if you write it forward, you might not be able to write it correctly. I'm fine, really, I'm fine. Just don't bother about me," Yan said weakly, lacking energy in his words.
"Who cares about your business," Jun stood up and adjusted her skirt. "I'm leaving, and you, escort me to the door."
Yan looked up at Jun, furrowing his brow with effort. Jun understood his meaning: You're not a guest, so why should I escort you?
"With all these broken things scattered throughout the room, I won't be able to explain if you accuse me of stealing your precious belongings," Jun remarked.
Yan weakly waved his hand, "Take whatever you like. As you said, they're just broken things."
"No, a gentleman does not take away what others cherish. "
Yan was annoyed by Jun's chatter. He leaned against the wall, using it as a makeshift crutch, slowly inching his way upward, stretching his legs and knees bit by bit.
Jun fell silent, her gaze fixed on Yan, filled with concern and anxiety.
Seeing Yan reaching about half of his height, Jun's nervousness subsided. She was about to cheer and encourage him when suddenly Yan made a thud sound and collapsed like a limp noodle, as if he had been dropped into boiling water.
Jun swiftly stepped forward, reaching Yan before he turned into a puddle of mud. She inserted her arms firmly under his armpits, providing him with solid support.
"What did I tell you? Did you really think I wanted your worthless trinkets? I just wanted to see if you were truly fine or just pretending." Jun said firmly.
Yan, who was resting on Jun's shoulder, didn't respond at all.
Jun waited for a while, but there was still no sound. That's when she sensed that something was not right.
Yan, a tall man standing at six feet, towered over Jun by more than a head. At this moment, her head was firmly pressed against Yan's chest, and she could hear the booming sound of war drums.
This felt familiar to her. She once squeezed into a closet with someone, and the pounding sound disturbed her greatly. She had asked that person to stop, and the response she received was that if you were human, you would have a heart, and if you had a heart, it would beat. If it didn't beat, you would die.
"It's your heart that's beating, right? It's beating so fast. Well, that's a relief. It means you won't die anytime soon," Jun shouted at Yan's chest as she supported him.
Jun remained still, feeling hesitant to lift her head and look at Yan. She was overcome by a strange sentiment, which prevented her from mustering the courage to meet his gaze. Her thoughts raced uncontrollably, like an untamed wild horse galloping freely.
With her head resting against Yan's chest, she couldn't help but wonder if her own chest was pressed tightly against his. Could he feel the fullness and firmness of her own chest? She was experiencing a suffocating sensation, as if she couldn't catch her breath.
With these thoughts in her mind, Jun's face flushed red in an instant. Though Manchu people didn't strictly adhere to the separation of men and women, there were still boundaries.
Jun became anxious and shouted in a flustered manner, "Don't overthink it! I'm just supporting you, nothing more. If I didn't support you, you would have fallen to the ground long ago."
Yan remained silent, becoming increasingly motionless like a bag of stiff dough, heavy and unresponsive.
Jun disliked monologues and, seeing that Yan wasn't responding, she raised her eyes and glared angrily at him. Before she could utter a scathing remark, she was startled by the scene before her.
Yan had tightly closed eyes, furrowed brows, clenched teeth, and a pale, grim expression. It was clear that he was in critical condition.
Without hesitation, Jun leaned back against Yan and grabbed his arms, pulling him onto her back. Carrying him, she rushed towards the main bedroom.
Exhausted, Jun rushed to the bed, using the last ounce of her strength to throw Yan onto it. Probably in pain from the impact, Yan grumbled, "Have you ever practiced wrestling? Could you be a bit gentler? I wasn't killed by the wound, but I might be by your throwing."
Given her temper, if it were any other time, Jun would have clashed with Yan over these words. But now he was a patient, suffering in pain, so Jun made up her mind to be magnanimous. She busied herself with placing a pillow and arranging the blanket, creating a comfortable position for Yan.
Yan let out a relieved sigh, his expression easing. When a person is comfortable, drowsiness tends to set in, and soon Yan's eyelids were too heavy to keep open.
Jun slapped Yan to wake him up. "Don't sleep yet. I'll go find a doctor for you. Tell me, where does the doctor live?"
"There is no doctor. Don't wander around outside," Yan replied.
"No doctor? That's impossible. In daylight, those eyes won't let me down. I'm not afraid," Jun insisted.
"Even if you're not afraid, you can't wander around outside," Yan shouted, struggling to maintain his tone. Then he softened his voice and explained to Jun that there really was no doctor around because nobody fell ill here. In case of an injury, they would tough it out for two or three days, and it would get better.
"Tough it out? That won't do. Haven't you heard of 'an inch of ice doesn't form in a single day'?" Jun argued.
Yan laughed. "It seems that not all of you Manchu have neither learning nor skill, but your words may not be quite appropriate here."
Feeling a bit embarrassed, Jun replied to Yan that it didn't matter if there was no doctor because she could help treat his injuries. She had some knowledge of medicine.
"You, you're a doctor? A quack doctor, perhaps," Yan said with a serious tone, mixed with a hint of cunning.
"Don't underestimate me. I can handle tooth extraction, horseshoeing, castrating pigs, you name it."
"A veterinarian, huh? How do you treat me? And by the way, as a young lady, why do you speak so bluntly?" Yan questioned.
"This is called gender equality..." Jun retorted.
As soon as the words were spoken, both of them were stunned. Intuitively, they knew that the notion of "gender equality" must have been taught to Jun by someone else. However, Jun remained puzzled as to who this person could be.
"Gender equality" reminded Yan of the girl in his heart, if she had this conception, they could have a happy ending.
Yan broke the silence, gently comforting Jun that he was truly fine and just needed some rest. He suggested that if she was still worried, she could sit on the chair in the main hall and keep him company.
Jun obediently took a seat on the chair, while Yan drifted into a deep sleep. The entire Zou residence fell into silence, where even the sound of a dropped needle could be heard.
A moan broke the silence, filled with hidden pain and restraint.
Without needing to ask, Jun knew it was Yan. Instinctively, she started to get up, but the thought of this man resisting her presence, as if he didn't want to be touched by even a spark from her, made Jun stubbornly sit back down.
Another round of moans reached her ears, and this time, Jun sensed that this man was reaching his limit.
She stood up with determination and rushed to Yan's bedside. He was already in such pain that he was hunched over, curled up like a curled-up millipede.
Jun lifted her hand and flipped Yan over as if flipping a turtle. She noticed that his robe was already soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to his upper body, revealing the well-defined muscles on his chest and abdomen. Without hesitation, Jun lifted the robe.
"What are you doing?" Yan forgot about the pain, gripping the edges of his robe tightly and desperately trying to pull it down.
"What else can I do? I want to see where you're injured..." Jun replied.
She tried to release the edges of the robe from Yan's grasp, but he resisted with all his strength.
"Why are you like this? You're just, just concealing your illness for fear of doctor," Jun exclaimed.
"You're not a doctor, so I avoid letting you see," Yan retorted.
One insisted on seeing, while the other refused to show. After a few struggles, the sound of torn fabric filled the air as the robe was inevitably ripped apart.
Yan's bronzed chest was fully exposed, and the cold sweat caused by the pain now glistened like tung oil, giving him a radiant appearance. In the midst of the tearing, Jun accidentally brushed against Yan's abdominal muscles. She couldn't say whether it was a reflex or instinct, but she quickly withdrew her hand. Nevertheless, the scorching sensation lingered from her fingertips to her heart.
Seeing Jun's face turn as red as a lantern during the Lantern Festival, Yan also felt embarrassed. He softly informed Jun that his injury was not on his chest or abdomen, and then awkwardly gathered the torn pieces of cloth to cover himself as best as he could.
Jun grabbed a blanket and carefully placed it over Yan. She kept her head down, fixated on the floor, muttering to herself that Yan was really a strange person. They should quickly identify the location of the injury and apply the necessary treatment, rather than enduring the pain and suffering.
Jun's words struck a chord with Yan. He lightly touched Jun's dress and then raised his right index finger in front of her.
Jun had mentally prepared herself to be frightened by a gruesome and bloody wound, but the finger in front of her was not red, swollen, bleeding, or oozing pus. It had a healthy flesh colour, leaving Jun perplexed for a moment.
"Where?" Jun rubbed her eyes deliberately.
"On my fingertip, didn't you see? Take a closer look," Yan replied, intentionally wiggling his index finger.
Jun faintly saw a flickering glow resembling a firefly passing in front of her. As she focused her gaze, she realized that there was a half-inch silver needle inserted into the tip of the finger.
Jun held her breath and felt her tension dissipate. She had initially prepared to confront a ghost when she opened the door, but instead, she was greeted by an innocent little girl. However, considering Yan's painful appearance, Jun didn't dare to neglect the situation.
"Is the needle poisoned?" Jun asked.
"It shouldn't be. I don't have any symptoms of poisoning," Yan replied.
"Then what kind of ghost are you?" Jun's words had just fallen when she pinched the silver needle that was embedded in Yan's fingertip. "This is just a needle, not the Golden Cudgel. Even an ant bite hurts more than this prick."
Yan, caught off guard, let out a piercing and miserable scream when Jun pulled the needle from his finger.
Jun frowned, "Yan, you're a grown man. Can't you stop screaming like a woman?"
"You don't understand..." Yan sounded a bit embarrassed and angry.
Jun sensed something from Yan's reaction: it was just a needle pricking his finger, but he was in extreme pain. He wasn't someone who acted effeminate or overly sensitive, so why was he in such agony? Her curiosity was piqued.
"That's right, I don't know anything. Tell me, and I'll understand," she said.
Yan opened his mouth to speak but couldn't utter a word. It wasn't because he changed his mind at the last moment; rather, the story was too long, and he didn't know where to begin.
"You don't let me wander around, but you must have gone out and got this injury. Tell me, did you go to the embroidery workshop? Saw a skilled embroiderer and tried to imitate her? Or maybe you joined the escort bureau and learned the Flying Needle technique from a master, but ended up doing more harm than good. And what about the medical clinic? Did you study acupuncture there?" Jun listed all the possible places where needles could be involved.
Yan stared at her lips moving rapidly, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, betraying his admiration for Jun. He felt that this girl was somewhat similar to the one in his heart, equally lively and cheerful. Whenever he was with her, the hardships of life seemed to fade away, and everything became clear and serene.
Jun quickly ran out of words, and Yan quickly stepped in to divert the conversation. He asked Jun if she had any other name besides the difficult-to-pronounce and hard-to-write Aisin Gioro Yun Dan.
Jun opened her mouth, but no words came out.
"Well, I'll give you one then, He..." Yan quickly stopped himself, realizing that he had almost blurted out her name. How could he do that so easily?
"What?" Jun asked, luckily they were speaking Chinese, and there were plenty of homophones to choose from.
"Hehe," Yan said. As soon as the words left his mouth, he cursed himself inwardly.
"Hehe? Still laughing, huh?" Jun clearly didn't understand the concept of harmony (hehe). "You can call me Hi or No one. It doesn't matter. After all, I won't be staying at your place for long."
Indeed, in forty-nine days, or rather, forty-eight days, they would go their separate ways. However, considering that Jun had just treated his injury, Yan extended a hand to her in a welcoming gesture.
Jun was taken aback, unsure of what Yan intended. Was he trying to show friendliness? It didn't seem like it. In their Manchu customs, they either exchanged polite greetings or offered deep bows. What did it mean to extend a hand?
As if guided by an unseen force, Jun's hand was led and placed in Yan's hand. He gently clasped it, and a warm sensation coursed through Jun's entire body. She even heard someone saying that this was called a handshake, a Western etiquette that was more civilized and advanced than what the Chinese practiced.