Volume II, Big Summer Dynasty Chapter 23: Seeing Tricks
Zhuge Yue commanded her. The child heard him and stopped but did not turn around.
Zhuge Yue, wearing soft bear-skin boots on the carpet, walked quietly to the drawer and took out a small celadon bottle. He reached for the child's shoulder, intending to turn her around, but hesitated as his fingers hung in the air. He raised his brow and said, "I see a child as stubborn as a wall, refusing to turn around."
Zhuge Yue, older than Chu Qiao, finally mustered enough force to pull the child's shoulder with both hands.
When he saw her face, Chu Qiao's eyes were full of tears and grief. Her red eyes met his, and the more her tears dried, the fiercer she seemed.
"Well, don't cry," he said, frowning. "No one is perfect, including you. Everyone makes mistakes, don't they?"
"The only mistake she made," the child said, sobbing, "was letting the young master teach her how to ride a horse. I should have learned better. I shouldn't have let anyone provoke me." She sniffled, almost getting her cold's mucus on her mouth, but still managed to talk back confidently.
Zhuge Yue frowned slightly, took out his handkerchief, and, like a gentleman, wiped the child's face. "You're right. You lost my horse, and today you nearly risked your life on a good desert snow horse. Are you saying they were right?"
"No, not the people who chased me on horseback. Maybe Yan Shizi—he lost his horse and then deceived me into thinking it was gone. I feel guilty because I believed his words." The child, looking a bit silly, let tears fall onto Zhuge Yue's handkerchief. He found himself patting her hand and wiping her tear-streaked nose.
Zhuge Yue was slightly stunned by the sticky mess coming from the child's stuffy nose but didn't seem to mind. "Even now, both you and the horse are alive. Why should the young master kill his servants over this?"
"Well, I guess you're right."
The child lowered her head, murmuring in defiance, "But people say it's true."
Sunlight spread over their shoulders. The child was still small, barely reaching Zhuge Yue's shoulder when standing straight. Her cheeks glowed like two big red apples.
"Here, take this," Zhuge Yue said, putting the small celadon bottle in her hand. "Go back and apply this."
The child's attention shifted to the bottle. Zhuge Yue's heart ached as he watched her hold it, puzzled. "What is this?" she asked.
"A balm to heal your wounds."
Chu Qiao's palms were already sore from the day before. As she read the label on the balm, she nodded. "Thank you, Fourth Young Master. I'll go back to my room now."
Zhuge Yue, sitting back in his chair, did not lift his head. Reluctant to watch her leave, he waved his hand and commanded, "Go."
The child was about to open the door when Zhuge Yue unexpectedly said, "Star Child, you saw Yan Shizi earlier. As much as possible, avoid him."
The child tilted her head, confused. Zhuge Yue noticed her expression and grew annoyed. He frowned and shouted, "Would you listen for once?"
"I understand perfectly!" the child answered loudly and turned to leave, nearly tripping over the high threshold.
Zhuge Yue's face darkened. This child was testing his patience.
When she opened the door, Zhu Cheng appeared, his face painted with worry. He quickly approached the child and, seeing traces of tears, asked, "Is the young master still angry?"
Chu Qiao nodded before heading back to her room.
Zhu Cheng, frightened, entered the room to find Zhuge Yue with his head down. He didn't dare speak and stood silently to the side.
Suddenly, something flew over his head. Startled, Zhu Cheng didn't move and cautiously checked if he was still alive. Something soft had hit him, and when he looked down, he saw a dirty handkerchief embroidered with the character "Yue."
"Take it away."
Thinking of Chu Qiao's tear-streaked face earlier, Zhu Cheng realized what had happened and stood amazed for a moment. He quickly snapped back and said, "I obey, Master."
Zhu Cheng was about to leave when Zhuge Yue's voice stopped him: "Zhu Cheng, come back." Zhu Cheng, bent over in servitude, awaited instructions.
Zhuge Yue's pale face was slightly flushed. After a long pause, no words came. Zhu Cheng cautiously raised his head and saw Zhuge Yue frowning, as though grappling with a major decision. His ears perked up, waiting for the master's orders.
At last, Zhuge Yue spoke with an air of majesty: "Wash it clean and return it to me."
"Yes, Master!" Zhu Cheng shouted, startled by the request.
Zhuge Yue grew furious: "Do I have to repeat myself?"
"I understand. I obey," Zhu Cheng said.
The door closed, and Zhuge Yue, now calm, sat back in his chair. He thought about the child pouting, her tear-streaked face, and for reasons he didn't understand, he felt a trace of boredom when left alone.
He stood up and walked to the Xuan hall. The room was simple and clean, with a portrait of a young girl hanging on the wall. The girl looked about eleven years old, her eyes glowing, her smile sweet. She wore a yellow top and a light green bottom, looking tender and lovely.
Zhuge Yue slowly touched the corner of the portrait and, after a long time, whispered softly to himself: "I'd like to believe again."
Chu Qiao was seen walking in the corridor above the castle peak, her head down. She passed by several people but ignored their greetings, feeling cursed rather than blessed. Those watching her speculated as she walked back to her room. When she raised her head, they returned to their tasks, no longer interested.
The child extended her small hand, pushed open the door, and entered.
As soon as the door closed, the fierce expression vanished from her face. Looking calm and sharp-eyed, she clutched her chest and slowly sat down on a stool. She poured herself a cup of tea but didn't drink it.
What happened today was finally over, no matter how Zhuge Yue viewed it. There had been no real danger.
Her clothes were damp with sweat, and the cold wind made her shiver. Her skirt swayed in the breeze as she finally drank her herbal tea, calming herself from her rapid breathing. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Things must happen again, she thought. She had no time to waste.
The cold wind, sharp as a knife, swept through. This winter was particularly bitter.