FHJ - 10

Chapter 10: The Tea Gathering (4)

Though it was only a short distance, to Shen Xiling, it felt impossibly long. She looked at Bai Song, at the wooden door he leaned against, and beyond it, as if glimpsing the man she had long yearned for. Her heart fluttered uncontrollably, much like the bamboo leaves rustling in the wind.

Finally reaching Bai Song, she felt she should greet him properly. Yet her mind was clouded, caught in a dreamlike haze, and she couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say. Before she realized it, the words slipped out: “Is… is he inside?”

Bai Song looked down at her, his gaze tinged with pity. After a brief pause, he said to her, “The master is drunk and has already retired.”

Shen Xiling froze for a moment, then quickly nodded. “I... I can take care of him.”

Bai Song sighed. “Qingzhu is already attending to him.”

Shen Xiling nodded again, forcing a faint smile. “He’s clumsy and won’t do it properly. Let me go in.”

As she reached out to push the door open, her hand trembled violently—so much so that Bai Song noticed it clearly, though she herself remained oblivious.

Her fingers had barely touched the door when a voice came from inside.

“Is that Lady Yan Guogong outside?”

Shen Xiling froze in place.

She hadn’t heard his voice in a long time—or perhaps that wasn’t entirely accurate. In her dreams, she often heard him speak, reliving fragments of their past: his gentle words, his tender conversations. Now, hearing his voice again after so many years, part of her felt it was just as she remembered—calm, soothing, and beautiful. Yet the title “Lady Yan Guogong” pierced her heart like a bucket of cold water poured over her head.

Her hand still shook uncontrollably as she rested it on the door but didn’t push it open. After a long silence, she finally replied, “...It’s me.”

After answering, Bai Song saw her manage a faint smile.

He couldn’t fathom what she was thinking or why she wore such an expression, but Shen Xiling herself knew all too well.

She had imagined countless times how their reunion might unfold. Perhaps they would catch a fleeting glimpse of each other in a crowd, or maybe they’d meet by chance at some noble banquet. Or, on one of Shangjing’s streets, their carriages might pass each other. If luck were on her side, they might exchange a few words—he might ask how she’d been these past years, share snippets of his life, or perhaps comment idly on something trivial. She had thought of so many possibilities, yet never once did she anticipate him addressing her as “Lady Yan Guogong.”

Suddenly, she found herself afraid of what he might say next. To preempt him, she asked, “I heard you were unwell recently. Are you feeling better now?”

She was remarkable—despite trembling all over, her voice remained steady and composed. Naturally, he was even calmer and more collected. She heard him reply, “I’m fine, thank you for your concern, my lady.”

Shen Xiling gave a soft murmur in response, her vision growing blurry as she fought back tears. Summoning every ounce of strength, she asked, “May I... may I come in to see you?”

May I come in to see you?

At that moment, there were so many things she wanted to say. Some words had accumulated over five long years; others had just surfaced in her mind at that instant—too many to count. But when she finally opened her mouth, only those six words escaped. Even the phrase she most desperately wanted to convey—”I’ve missed you so much”—remained unspoken.

She had tried so hard. Bai Song could see how pale her face was, how tightly her hands were clenched, her nails digging deep into her palms. She likely hoped to appear calm, at least not weak, but truthfully, she looked pitiful to him.

Just as she had appeared pitiful to him many years ago.

Anyone who saw her like this would find it impossible to deny her request, no matter what it was—they would move heaven and earth to grant it.

But Qi Jingchen was not among them.

“How can we meet again, given our current positions?” Bai Song heard the man inside say. “My lady, please leave.”

For a moment, Bai Song couldn’t bear to look at Shen Xiling’s face.

Silence stretched on—a long, heavy silence broken only by the rustling of bamboo leaves.

Suddenly, Shen Xiling grew eerily calm. Her body stopped trembling, though her eyes burned hot, and tears began sliding down her cheeks without her fully realizing it. A deafening roar filled her ears, drowning out everything else. Despite this, her voice remained steady as she said, “I won’t cause you any trouble. I just want to see you once. Perhaps after today, we’ll never have another chance to meet. I’ve come all this way today—can I see you, just for a moment? Please?”

She waited a long time, but no sound came from behind the door.

Bai Song watched her, hearing distant footsteps approaching. Reluctantly interrupting, he said, “Someone is coming. If you’re seen here, it won’t be good for either you or the master.”

Shen Xiling said nothing, merely glancing at him with an empty gaze. After a while, she seemed to snap out of her daze, her face streaked with faint tear tracks.

Still striving to maintain her composure, she even managed a small smile for Bai Song. “Alright. I’ll leave.”

Bai Song found it unbearable to hear.

She paused, as if considering something, then gently touched the thin wooden door once more. In a whisper-soft voice, she said, “Though you may not care to know, I still want to tell you that I’m doing well. I’ve heard you are too...”

She hesitated, then offered a bittersweet smile. “...Perhaps this is for the best.”

With that, she turned and walked away.

Her demeanor appeared composed, but her steps lacked steadiness. Bai Song’s sharp hearing picked up the uneven rhythm of her footsteps even after she disappeared around the corner. Not long after, the sound was drowned out by a series of muffled coughs emanating from within the room.

He suddenly felt suffocated.

A long while passed—half an hour, perhaps an hour—before Qingzhu emerged from the room. Bai Song asked, “How is he?”

Qingzhu replied, “He’s taken his medicine and has just fallen asleep.”

Bai Song nodded, and Qingzhu left. At that moment, he heard an extremely faint, deep murmur from inside the room.

It was very indistinct, so he had to strain his ears to listen carefully.

“Wenwen...”

—A whisper only spoken in dreams.