Chapter 10: Reminiscence
The east wing faced the west wing across the courtyard and had originally been Old Master Li’s quarters. After his passing, it became Li Wei’s private quarters.
The room was simple and austere, with whitewashed walls. A bow, some arrows, knife handles and some other objects hung on the wall. Inside, there was a single table, a stool, a bed, and a large chest along the wall.
At dawn, Li Wei pushed open the window. The faint light of morning glimmered in, and the wind was frigid and raw. Ice crystals had formed on the window frame and the ground below. All was silent except for a faint glow coming from the kitchen window, where feeble wisps of spiraling pale smoke rose into the air. It was Aunt Zhao, stoking the fire to prepare breakfast.
Years of a disciplined lifestyle had made Li Wei accustomed to simplicity and restraint. He slept little and woke early. In the stable, Chasing Thunder, at the sight of its master bringing fodder, raised its front hooves and snorted, full of energy. Its warm breath puffed into the palm of its owner’s hand. Li Wei patted his beloved horse. “We’re staying home today. Tomorrow, I’ll take you out for a run.”
Chasing Thunder seemed to understand, shaking its head and snorting lightly before settling back into the stall.
Aunt Zhao bustled in and out of the house, catching sight of Li Wei up so early. She could not help but chuckle, “In such cold weather, Master should sleep in a bit longer. I’m brewing medicine for Madam now, and breakfast is not yet ready. If Master is hungry, shall I make a bowl of mutton soup noodles to fill your stomach first?”
“No need,” Li Wei replied. With his broad shoulders and narrow waist, his tall figure made the small kitchen feel cramped. He simply crouched down, tending to the black, narrow-mouthed medicine pot. The peculiar fragrance of brewing herbs wafted through the air, assailing one’s nostrils—the fragrance the very same that lingered in Madam Li’s room, ever-present and seeping into the soul.
Madam Li’s illness had lingered since birth. She had always been frail, frequently falling ill as a child. Physicians often predicted she would not live to see past her twenties. However, once Li Wei became old enough to understand her plight, he dedicated himself to seeking rare and precious herbs from the western regions, gradually nursing her health back to a semblance of stability.
But the reprieve was short-lived. After giving birth to Changliu, Madam Li’s body deteriorated further, suffering from blood deficiency, irregular menstruation, and metrorrhagia. Her condition worsened into symptoms of extreme blood depletion and exhaustion, unresponsive to conventional medicine. Years ago, Venerable Monk, Dharmabhadra from Kucha, was said to be residing at the Wooden Pagoda Temple in Ganzhou. Known for his exceptional skills in medicine, Li Wei sought him out and begged for a prescription. However, the monk provided a highly intricate regimen, tailored to the four seasons, with seasonal adjustments to over ninety medicinal ingredients. Many of these were rare herbs from the western regions, inaccessible to ordinary households.
Li Wei spared no effort, enduring immense, untold hardships to procure the necessary ingredients and bring them home. After a while, the prescribed medicine did seem to improve Madam Li’s condition, and she continued to take it to this day.
The prescription was, in truth, a luxury. Dharmabhadra, of royal lineage from Kucha, considered substances like frankincense and myrrh as common remedies. Yet, the formula also required rare items such as Ferula mushrooms, dogbane, myrobalan, and african rue. It was no wonder the monk had sighed and remarked that such a regimen was a heavy burden, impossible for ordinary families to sustain, even with the prescription in hand.
“Now that Master has returned, Madam Li seems in brighter spirits, more willing to take her medicine and even eats a little more.” Aunt Zhao remarked, “Before, she often complained about the bitterness of the medicine, and if she felt slightly better, she would become lax in drinking it. No amount of persuasion could sway her. When she felt unwell, she refused to see the doctor or let anyone else know, choosing instead to endure in silence. At least now that Master is back, things will improve. Master must persuade Madam Li—she must take her medicine and treat her illness properly. Even if not for her own sake, she must consider Master and Changliu.”
Li Wei creased his brows slightly, then sighed helplessly, “When I’m not home, I cannot manage much. Even when I am, she refuses to tell me these things.” He let out a long sigh before saying, “I’ll have to trouble you, Auntie, to help keep an eye on things at home.”
“That goes without saying.”
Changliu woke to find the little walnut figurine his father had given him the day before sitting by his pillow. Throwing off his quilt, he dressed, slipped on his shoes, and happily made his way to the east wing to see his father.
His father was sitting cross-legged by the door, holding a whetstone and carefully honing the tips of his arrows. Changliu trotted over and received a fond ruffle of his hair. “School’s on break, yet you’re up so early?”
“Teacher instructed us to keep up our morning readings and evening exercises and must not tarry.” Changliu squatted down beside his father. The arrowhead, no longer than a finger joint, was as sharp as a blade, reflecting a fragment of his robe in its snowy brilliance. “Father, this arrowhead is so sharp.”
How could an arrow used to kill others not be sharp? Li Wei faintly smiled, patting his son’s head. “Stay obediently over there and watch, but keep your distance.”
“Bad people will be scared when seeing Father’s arrows.:
“In battle, weapons are the most important. They can kill enemies but also save lives.” Li Wei methodically honed the arrowhead.
Changliu pondered for a moment, then tilted his head: “ ‘If one wishes to do a good job, one must first sharpen their tools.’ If we prepare our weapons well, we won’t be afraid when the time comes to fight.”
Li Wei laughed, ruffling his son’s hair again. “Exactly.”
The door to the west wing creaked open, and a delicate figure came into view, catching the eyes of both father and son. Chun Tian dressed in a slightly worn but colorful jacket and skirt, swaying as she stepped into the yard. The outfit had once belonged to Madam Li when she was a young woman—its bright hues rarely worn and long stored away. After rummaging through her chests, she had given it to Chun Tian to wear. On Chun Tian, the gorgeous garment made her appear to have a pale, frost-like complexion and her dark, coal-like eyes were as black as lacquer.
She paused in the yard, greeted the two of them, her thin and weak body hesitating briefly in the cold morning breeze. She suddenly leaned forward slightly in front of Li Wei and bowed. “Sir,” she saluted Li Wei solemnly, “When I was ill, I did not understand much and never properly expressed my gratitude to my benefactor.”
She bent lower towards Li Wei. “For your lifesaving kindness, Chun Tian is forever grateful. I will remember it for the rest of my life.”
“Miss is exaggerating.” Li Wei said. “You were fortunate that the merchant found you, and later, Young Master Duan cared for you tirelessly. My role was just a small effort.”
“Chun Tian will forever remember the kindness of all of my benefactors who helped me and swears never to forget them.”
Li Wei seemed to recall something. He brushed off his robes, stood, and headed into the house, saying to her “Young Master Duan entrusted me to return something of yours.”
Chun Tian looked at him, puzzled. She stepped closer as he returned, taking out a silk-wrapped package, smiling as he handed it to her. “This was found on you that day. Young Master Duan had kept it. When we left Ganzhou in haste, it slipped his mind to return it, but he asked me to bring it back to you in Chang’an.”
She held the weighty silk package with her hands and hastily unfolded the silk. A short, breathless gasp escaped her lips as her body quivered faintly—inside was her missing dagger—heavy, black, and cold. The scabbard was wrapped with a faded silk ribbon, its appearance clearly that of a treasured personal item.
“Many thanks.” she said, her voice choking with emotion. Her eyes reddened slightly as she turned her face away, pressing the dagger gently to her cheek, as if to feel the cold, familiar touch of it once more.
Changliu blinked, tilting his head to look at his father with a questioning gaze. Li Wei patted the boy’s head and said softly, “This is an old belonging of your Chun Tian-jiejie.” Changliu nodded, and secretly edged closer. He stroked against the corner of her sleeve as if to offer silent comfort.
Li Wei’s eyes observed Chun Tian’s pale face. He suddenly remembered the first time he saw her: dressed in men’s clothing and draped in a white fur cloak. She had carried the air of handsome, graceful youth, but looked alone, helpless and frail at the same time. When she opened her eyes for the first time, it was like a breeze stirring away the dust, her radiance resembling a pearl. Whose child, he had thought then, had been abandoned in such a desolate place?
The story of Chun Tian’s origins, as told by Madam Li, was a source of sighs and sympathy among their neighbors. A girl from Chang’an, orphaned after her father’s death, alone and helpless, with no one but an elderly servant to rely on. She had set out to find her uncle in the distant Beiting Protectorate. Yet, midway through the journey, she was separated from her elderly servant and had to join a caravan traveling out of Yumen, heading to the Beiting Protectorate by herself. There, in the ravines of Red Ravine Valley, she narrowly escaped death at the hands of horse bandits.
The family sat together in the side room, chatting. Madam Li held Chun Tian’s hand and asked her husband, “Does the Master have any acquaintances in Beiting? If so, perhaps they could inquire on her behalf.”
“My uncle’s family lived in Luntai in Beiting many years ago, but later they relocated westward, likely to Xizhou.” Chun Tian said, “I feel truly apologetic for imposing on this residence and would not dare trouble you further. Once I recover fully, I plan to head to Luntai to search for my relatives.”
“You’re a young woman, it is inconvenient traveling alone to unfamiliar and foreign lands, you must absolutely not go alone.” Madam Li said gently, “The New Year is near, so there is no need to rush. Let the Master inquire thoroughly, and you can rest here and focus on recovering.”
By the stove, Li Wei brewed tea. “Beiting governs the Yi, Xi, and Ting prefectures and has many military garrisons. With merchants, soldiers, and civilians intermingling, finding someone might be challenging. However, if your uncle’s family is Han Chinese, it should not be too difficult.”
Chun Tian nodded, agreeing. Then she noticed Li Wei smile faintly as he asked, “Wonder what your uncle’s profession was? Was he in business or the military?”
She hesitated briefly before replying, “My uncle’s name is Chen Zhongxin. Over a decade ago, he served as a Deputy Military Commandant in the garrisons at Ganluchuan. Later, he was reassigned to Luntai. Where he might be stationed now, I do not know.”
“So, he was a military officer. That simplifies things, I have old friends in the military who can help look into it.”
Chun Tian thanked him repeatedly, a trace of hazy hope rising in her heart, though tinged with melancholy.
Madam Li softly reassured her, “Don’t worry. We’ll find them.”
Li Wei stood and replaced her tea with a fresh cup. In his unhurried manner, he added, “It wasn’t just us who wanted you to stay. Young Master Duan was also quite intent on ensuring your safety. Do you remember him? He planned to care for you until you regained consciousness before returning to Chang’an.”
Chun Tian vaguely recalled a gentleman dressed in brocade garments but couldn’t recall his face. She traced the rim of her teacup with her fingers, “I didn’t even have the chance to thank Young Master Duan properly. I wonder if he had anything he wished to ask me.”
“Do you remember the events of the day you were injured, and those horse bandits?”
Chun Tian took a deep breath, “I remember.”
“That day, the wind was fierce. In the Red Ravine Valley, loose rocks scattered and flew all over the place. I was following behind the caravan when we entered a narrow mountain pass. Suddenly, I heard a sharp, piercing sound carried by the wind—it was like the high-pitched whistle of a reed pipe. Then, out of nowhere, riders and horses surged in from all directions. Someone wielding a long blade charged at us, the crack of horsewhip very strongly. Everyone panicked. I was at the very back of the group, trying to flee with the others. At that moment, a man from the caravan handed me the reins of a packhorse and told me to run back.” Her face turned pale, and her brows furrowed as she recalled the searing pain from the blade striking her back. “They were after the caravan’s goods.”
Li Wei remained silent for a long moment before asking, “Do you remember what those bandits looked like?”
She shook her head. “They had their faces covered with black cloth and spoke in the Hu language. Their eyes were fierce, like knives. But their robes were very similar to those of herdsmen, covered with fur cloaks on the outside, with knives and flint tied to their belts. One of the men had animal teeth and an indigo blue snuffbox hanging from his waist.”
Herdsmen from the grassland lakes often descended in the harsh winter, when snow sealed the mountains and livestock were penned, disguising themselves as bandits to plunder merchants.
“What were in the packs of the caravan?”
“There were dozens of packhorses. The loads were light, but the scent of tea was very strong.”
Li Wei shook his head slightly. “The caravan’s goods were stolen, but no one went to the authorities to file a complaint. And when you were injured and fell into the ravine, they only cared about gathering their belongings and escaping.”
Chun Tian fell silent. Li Wei continued, “Where did you meet this caravan? The merchants, do you remember them?
“In Liangzhou. Judging from their accents, they seemed to be from Guanzhong. But they were in a great hurry and refused to stop at the post stations even after dark. I just followed their ox carts at the rear. They did not talk much.”
Li Wei calculated quietly in his mind, his brows slightly furrowed as he shook his head. Chun Tian cautiously asked, “Is Young Master Duan from Chang’an?”
“His ancestral home is Liangzhou,” Li Wei replied. “Later, his family moved to Chang’an when they entered officialdom. Duan Laoye is an Assistant Director in the Ministry of Rites.”
An Assistant Director in the Ministry of Rites was merely a subordinate third-ranked official, which wasn’t particularly notable in the imperial capital teeming with high-ranking officials. Yet for the Duan family, who had risen from being merchants trading goods along the rivers and roads, to transforming into a scholarly family with official posts and ties to the court, it was a remarkable achievement.
TN: Hope everyone is doing well! Finally some mystery surrounding Chun Tian’s story have been uncovered!
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