Chapter 11: An Old Acquaintance

The chill of deep winter had yet to fully fade, and the warmth of the sun was just beginning to rise.

“Miss?”

Chuntao entered the room quietly, holding a cup of medicine in both hands. She happened to see Su Yao leaning against the table, her figure seeming somewhat unsteady.

She hurried forward, offering the cup carefully, gently urging Su Yao to take a sip.

But Su Yao suddenly choked on the bitter liquid, coughing repeatedly. The unexpected noise startled the parrot in its golden cage, which flapped its wings wildly, nearly striking the cage’s bars.

Seeing this, Chuntao quickly patted Su Yao’s back to help soothe her breath.

“Miss, the plum blossoms outside are in full bloom. Would you like to—”

Su Yao tugged at the corner of her mouth and said, “Since the master told me to ‘behave,’ how dare I step outside? Last time, wasn’t it—”

“The master only said you should behave, not that you must stay cooped up all day.” Chuntao wrung her handkerchief anxiously, lowering her voice further. “Besides, the master won’t be back for at least three to five days. I clearly heard him say that if you want to go out, those few old women outside can quietly follow you.”

Su Yao sighed. “It’s pointless. Even going out, I have to be watched.”

She looked at the plum branches stretching over the courtyard wall and suddenly recalled that three years ago, her mother had also leaned against the window of the entertainment house, gazing out at the spring scenery. Was her mother then counting the days, hoping to escape this place?

At that thought, Su Yao felt as if an invisible hand gripped her heart tightly.

“Prepare the carriage. I want to take a walk outside.”

Chuntao was taken aback, hesitating, “But Miss, you said—”

Su Yao gently traced the exquisite entwined floral patterns on the birdcage. Her cold gaze landed on the few women pretending to sweep the courtyard outside the gate but in truth, watching her every move. She let out a bitter laugh.

“I can’t just let them follow for nothing, can I?”

---

The copper bell hanging from the teahouse eaves swayed in the late spring breeze. Her fingertips brushed over the cracks on the white porcelain teacup.

Su Yao should not have lifted the gauzy curtain. The winter sun was so bright it hurt the eyes. She stood at the mouth of Apricot Blossom Alley, watching the golden butterfly hairpin in Biyu’s hair catch the light.

“Miss…” Biyu tightly clutched a package wrapped in oiled paper, which slipped from her hands in surprise.

Candied apricots tumbled between the cracks of the bluestone pavement. Seeing this, Biyu hurriedly crouched to retrieve them, and in the movement, a silver bracelet wrapped with a red thread slipped into view on her wrist.

The bracelet was exquisitely crafted—only a bride would wear such a piece.

As if realizing something, Biyu instinctively touched the golden butterfly pin in her hair, a gift from Lu Huaijin, given as thanks for her “loyalty” back then.

Su Yao looked at the silver bracelet on Biyu’s wrist and suddenly smiled. “I heard you got married?”

“Yes…” Biyu twisted her handkerchief, voice trembling. “He’s an honest man; he runs a cloth shop in the southern part of the city.”

“That’s good.”

---

Su Yao’s voice was flat, betraying no emotion. Her fingers brushed the snowy gauze wrapped around her neck, where the scab from last night’s bite still seeped faintly with blood.

“At least you could marry.”

Lu Huaijin always liked to leave new marks on her before leaving—this time, it was the bite mark on her neck. Even wrapped in gauze, the bloodstain could not be fully concealed.

Su Yao reached out to straighten Biyu’s crooked hairpin; her cool fingertips brushed Biyu’s trembling earlobe. “Does your husband know how many noblemen you once served poison to?”

Tears suddenly welled up in Biyu’s eyes. “Miss, do you still hate me?”

Hate?

Su Yao’s gaze drifted to the few women pretending to buy rouge nearby, and her thoughts floated back to the entertainment house three years ago.

Her mother had pushed her and her sister into a room, then was dragged away by the house’s women.

Later, she learned it was the cowardly Biyu, hiding behind a pillar, who betrayed them by revealing their hiding place to the madam.

“I hated you,” Su Yao said softly.

“I hated your ruthlessness, watching our mother and daughters part in life and death with cold eyes. I hated your compassion, telling Lu Huaijin I was at the entertainment house. Most of all, I hated why you were allowed to live and endure all this.”

Biyu fell to her knees, forehead striking the bluestone floor. “I deserve death! But the day Lord Lu burst in with his sword, I truly thought he could save you…”

“Save?” Su Yao sneered coldly. “From the entertainment house to the Lu mansion, it’s just swapping one shackle for another.”

In her mind, the image of her mother being dragged into the side room flashed—the coral bracelet on her wrist had broken and scattered to the floor.

She recalled her legitimate sister being carried away, her blood-soaked skirt a harrowing sight.

Back then, she should have gone with them, but fate left her in this painful world.

“Get up.” Su Yao helped Biyu to her feet. “I don’t hate you anymore. Over these three years, I’ve come to understand. If it weren’t you, it would have been someone else. You just wanted to survive. Besides, Lu Huaijin is the kind of man who will find a way to get whatever he wants.”

Biyu stared at her in shock, as if she didn’t recognize this young lady she had served since childhood.

Once the most radiant flower of the Prime Minister’s household, Su Yao had now become a trapped beast in a cage, no longer even capable of hatred.

“Go back.” Su Yao turned toward the carriage. “Your husband must be worried.”

As Chuntao helped her into the carriage, she heard Biyu sobbing behind them, “Miss, Lord Lu…”

Biyu opened her mouth as if to say more but ultimately turned away without speaking.

The spring breeze gently lifted a corner of the curtain. Through the gap, Su Yao saw the watchers gathered greedily counting copper coins.

Watching Biyu’s retreating figure, Su Yao’s ears seemed to echo the words Lu Huaijin had spoken the night he wrested a dagger from her hand in the entertainment house: “Your life belongs to me; even death must be in my arms.”

She touched the bloodstained bite mark on her neck and smiled softly.

Perhaps this was fate—wounded wings still forced to sing for one’s enemy.

---

Su Yao lifted the carriage curtain and saw the few women hastily following behind.

The carriage wheels clattered intermittently over the bluestone. Su Yao leaned against the soft cushion, the gold bells around her ankles emitting a faint, sorrowful tinkling with every jolt.

The scent of plum blossoms seeped through the curtain’s crack, mingling with the calming fragrance pinned to Chuntao’s collar, lulling her into a dreamy haze.

In the dream, the golden nanmu wood bath was thick with the scent of wormwood. A fifteen-year-old girl was forced to tilt her neck back, staring at the red silk hanging from the intricately carved beams.

The madam’s fingertips, stained with rouge, parted the floating medicinal herbs on the water’s surface.

“The young lady of the Prime Minister’s house, with her icy skin and jade-like bones, should be nourished with Snow Mountain ginseng. Once the golden needles stimulate the acupuncture points, this body will surely bring ecstasy and torment alike.”

As the golden needles pierced through the mist, the gilded ointment box Biyu held suddenly fell to the ground.

The medicinal water boiled fiercely, burning like fire. The seven-inch-long needles probed along the spine’s meridians. She opened her mouth but could not utter a sound; tears fell into the bath, rippling crimson.

She had bitten through her tongue.

...

“Miss, watch out!”

Chuntao’s scream overlapped with the dream as Su Yao suddenly snapped open her eyes. The carriage curtain had been torn to shreds by a blade.

The winter wind, laced with the stench of blood, rushed in. She saw the driver woman limp, hanging against the carriage pole, a half-length peacock blue tail feather protruding from her nape.

Three masked men surged forward; the leader’s tiger mouth flashed with the gleam of a black scorpion tattoo.

Before Su Yao could stab out the jade hairpin hidden in her sleeve, a shattering pain exploded in her wrist.

Chuntao lunged forward, biting the attacker’s wrist, but was struck hard across the back of her neck. Her pale yellow blouse was stained with splattered blood.

“Don’t kill her! I’ll go with you.” Su Yao looked at the fallen Chuntao, her heart unable to bear it.

“Miss, don’t worry about me. You run...”

“This dog is loyal, at least.”

The moment a coarse sack was pulled over her head, Su Yao smelled the scent of rope soaked in strong liquor. The same dirty trick the constables used when shackling her three years ago.

Su Yao awoke bathed in the rich aroma of ambergris, her eyes meeting a canopy embroidered with a hundred birds paying homage to the phoenix.

“Awake?”