Chapter Seventy: Love Like Spilled Water

On this day in Jixian Alley, three households welcomed newborn sons, with lanterns hung and festive decorations everywhere, making for a lively scene.

Yu Lang walked along the stone-paved road for a while, and as he reached his own doorstep, the noise faded, replaced by a sudden quiet that left him uneasy. The canal waters outside were calm, the painted boats had already departed. Leaning against the drooping willow by the riverbank, Yu Lang paused to rest, recalling the time he fished by the river with Du Fu, a memory that brought a touch of loneliness. Yet the thought that he could reunite with Du Fu in Chang’an made the corners of his mouth curl into a smile.

The front gate of the Yu residence had shrunk considerably; once, as a child, he had to crane his neck to see the plaque above, but now a single leap would reach it. The thrill of jumping high to touch what seemed unreachable had faded, for growing up meant doors grew shorter, roads narrower, words fewer.

He pushed open the wooden door with a creak. Smoke from the kitchen mingled with the aroma of food, wafting straight into his nostrils. Obaba was methodically sweeping the courtyard, not missing a single spot.

Seated in the courtyard was an unfamiliar young woman. Upon seeing Yu Lang, she became extremely shy, her cheeks flushing as she bowed respectfully. “Young master, Sister Qingqing insisted on cooking this meal herself, so she wouldn’t let me help. I’m not shirking my duties…”

Obaba paused his work, explaining to Yu Lang, “Qingqing found this chambermaid for you; she’s untouched.”

The girl lowered her head even further, unable to meet Yu Lang’s gaze, her blush creeping from her face down to her neck. She was originally from a respectable family; her brother had fallen gravely ill, and her mother, left with no choice, sold her. Sister Qingqing, being kind-hearted, pitied her and never made her do heavy labor, assigning her only as a chambermaid, waiting for the right time to serve Yu Lang in his bed. Seeing Yu Lang’s lineage and gentle manner, the girl’s heart finally settled. To marry a man means food and clothing; this young master seemed courteous and the future mistress was kind-hearted, a far better fate than those girls sold to brothels. Her own destiny was already much improved.

Yu Lang understood well what a chambermaid’s duty meant. He felt a flicker of anger, mixed with tenderness for Qingqing—after all these years, he had given her no answer, and now it was Qingqing herself arranging such matters.

Obaba continued, “Qingqing has followed you for four years. Recently, she heard that Huang Ying is to marry Zhang Chengxing, and it upset her. Those two had barely been together a few months, so… Ai, I think you owe Qingqing an explanation.”

Obaba was awkward with words; this speech had been rehearsed many times before he finally managed to say it aloud. “If the master were still here, he would have taken charge, and Qingqing wouldn’t have endured so much grievance these years.”

She had moved into the Yu household at thirteen, and at seventeen was still unmarried. Rumors about Qingqing abounded, but Yu Lang had no understanding of the burdens she bore. What was rare was that Qingqing wished to marry Yu Lang not because of the weight of gossip, but because she did not want to lose him again. She longed for someone by her side in the long night, not a cold luminous pearl.

To be a lone hero, there will always be someone left in tears.

Those two words—“explanation”—weighed like a thousand-pound stone on Yu Lang’s heart. How could he explain Ning Xiaoyu’s existence to Qingqing? How could he make her understand the difference between reliance and love? Even if his tongue were ten times more eloquent, he lacked the confidence to pierce the veil of a young girl’s heart.

Yu Lang smiled. “I’ve been tired from traveling these days. I’ll rest in my room for a while. Call me when dinner is ready.”

Obaba responded heartily.

The girl twisted her hands together, thinking her appearance had displeased the young master—was her brow too thick, her makeup too heavy? She glanced at her flat chest and felt wronged tears spill. If the young master didn’t fancy her, even Qingqing’s fondness would be useless, and if she was sold to a brothel, she’d rather die.

Obaba flashed his broad white teeth and comforted her with a smile. “Don’t overthink it. Yu Lang isn’t the arrogant sort; he won’t treat you as an object. He just has things he hasn’t sorted out yet.”

The girl realized she’d misunderstood, wiped her tears, and her heart settled.

Sleeping in his own bed felt reassuring. No sooner had Yu Lang closed his eyes than he fell into a deep sleep.

Dinner was sullen. The tastier the dishes on the table, the more Qingqing seemed to compromise, and the heavier Yu Lang’s heart grew.

“This girl’s nickname is Hongchou. From now on, she is yours…”

Yu Lang put down his chopsticks, quickly changing the subject. “Aren’t you curious about what I went through while away? It was quite interesting—would you like to hear?”

Qingqing pressed her lips into a smile. “No, I don’t want to hear. You’d never tell me the truth anyway; the tales of near-death would only be turned into jokes, never the real story. Now, I want you to give me a promise.”

“What promise?”

“Marry me next year. Stay in Yangzhou with me, never leave again. We’ll grow old together. We have enough money; I can find any kind of woman you like, and I’ll manage the household. All I want is for you to stay by my side.” Qingqing had pondered these words for a long time, discussed them with neighbors, and knew that men sought nothing but money and women. The conditions she offered were already generous. All she needed was a nod from Yu Lang.

“I can’t promise you that. After the new year, I have to escort Yang Yuhuan back to Chang’an, and I want to take you with me. We’ll settle in Chang’an, buy a house ten times the size of this one. There’s no need to rush the marriage. Let me establish myself in Chang’an first…”

Tears glistened in Qingqing’s eyes. “Don’t go to Chang’an. I’m from Chang’an myself—you can’t beat those people. You don’t know what they’re like. Please, don’t go… Can’t we just stay in Yangzhou together? Chasing fame and fortune ends in emptiness. Why wade into that muddy water?”

The tree wishes for calm, but the wind won’t stop. If this reign of peace could last eighty years, what harm in growing old with her in Yangzhou? Yu Lang could not explain to Qingqing the calamities that would befall the Tang dynasty ten years hence, nor make her understand that he came from another era altogether. The rift between Yu Lang and Qingqing was two thousand years of civilization—seemingly transparent, yet as impassable as a mountain.

Qingqing slammed down her chopsticks. “Obaba, go out.”

Obaba pitifully cradled his bowl and stepped outside, snatching two pieces of meat as he left, swallowing as he eyed the untouched dishes on the table.

Hongchou was about to follow Obaba out.

“Hongchou, stay. From now on, you are also Yu Lang’s woman, and you must devote yourself to these matters.”

Hongchou stopped in her tracks, watching as Obaba closed the heavy wooden door behind him.

Yu Lang remained silent, whether scolded or stabbed, he could not halt his steps. Ahead lay countless crises and challenges—one misstep, and there would be no return. As Du Fu once told him, Yangzhou was only a pause in his journey. Caught in the game, he had no right to give up.

“Yu Lang, take a good look at Hongchou. Open your eyes and look—is her face familiar?”

Yu Lang had no mind to look, brushing it off with a shake of his head.

Qingqing glanced at Hongchou’s face, grew angry, and slammed her bowl, scolding Hongchou. “Who told you to smear all that nonsense on your face? Go fetch a basin of water and wash it clean! Stand still afterward, so the young master can see you clearly!”

It was the first time Hongchou had seen Qingqing so furious. She hurried to fetch a copper basin of water and scrubbed the rouge and powder from her face with force. In her haste, red marks appeared on her tender skin, and her tears of grievance began to flow.