Chapter 51: Birthday (2)

The maids were indignant, their brows furrowed and hands on their hips, appearing angrier than Shen Xiling herself. Feng Chang huffed and said, “Let me tell you something—I’ve always thought that Miss Zhao wasn’t a good sort. She’s jealous of our young mistress being prettier and excelling in her studies. This time, she definitely dragged our young mistress into trouble on purpose!”

Pei Shui snorted in agreement, adding, “I think she’s jealous that Second Master treats our young mistress so well—hmph, no matter how envious she gets, it won’t change anything. Second Master clearly favors our young mistress more—it’ll drive her mad!”

…Their accusations grew increasingly far-fetched.

Shen Xiling didn’t know what to say for a moment. After some hesitation, she told the three of them, “Sisters, please stop talking like this. Miss Zhao is a blood relative of the household, while I’m just a guest. In truth, I’m only attending the academy because of her family’s generosity. It’s not right for us to speak ill of her…”

The maids were unconvinced and wanted to continue, but Shen Xiling smiled at them and changed the subject by asking what they would eat that evening.

Zi Jun, guileless as ever, didn’t realize Shen Xiling was diverting the conversation. Upon hearing her ask about food, she perked up enthusiastically and replied honestly, “Fish! We received a few perch today—they’re plump and fresh!”

Pei Shui and Feng Chang thought Zi Jun was too easily distracted, exchanging amused yet exasperated glances at her naivety, leaving Zi Jun utterly confused. Shen Xiling chuckled softly and, after a moment’s thought, asked, “Do we have any noodles? Soup noodles?”

Zi Jun had been caring for Shen Xiling for about a month now, and this was the first time she’d heard the young mistress express a desire for a specific dish. Finding it novel, she nodded repeatedly and said, “Yes, yes, yes! Does the young mistress want soup noodles? What kind would you like?”

Shen Xiling gave Zi Jun a gentle smile, tinged with an apologetic undertone for the trouble, and replied, “Any kind will do—I can make it myself.”

Zi Jun waved her hand dismissively and pointed to Shen Xiling’s injured palm, saying with a laugh, “What kind of young lady cooks? Especially after being punished by the master—you should rest and take care of yourself. I’ll add a bowl of soup noodles.”

After Zi Jun left, Feng Chang began tidying up the ointments on the table, while Pei Shui poured tea for Shen Xiling and teasingly asked, “Why did you suddenly crave soup noodles?”

Shen Xiling pursed her lips, unsure whether to tell them it was her birthday. If she did, it would inevitably cause trouble—Pei Shui and the others were meticulous and considerate, and they’d surely fuss over her. She didn’t want to inconvenience them.

At this thought, Shen Xiling couldn’t help but smile faintly. Master Wang was right—though she understood his teachings, truly living freely and according to her heart wouldn’t come easily. For instance, even now, she was overly cautious, worried that others might be burdened if they learned it was her birthday.

After some deliberation, Shen Xiling decided not to reveal the truth and simply said she’d suddenly felt a craving.

Zi Jun’s culinary skills were excellent. That evening, the sliced perch was tender and fragrant, and the soup noodles she prepared were equally delicious. The broth was rich and flavorful, leaving a lingering taste on the palate.

Inevitably, Shen Xiling was reminded of the soup noodles her parents used to make.

Her mother could cook too, but as her health declined and she became bedridden, she gradually stopped. Most days, Shen Xiling took charge of the kitchen. Though still young, she was quite adept at cooking.

She actually enjoyed it. The intricacies of grains, vegetables, oils, and spices, though tedious, often gave her a sense of stability. When her mother enjoyed the dishes she made, Shen Xiling felt especially gratified. However, cooking was still somewhat exhausting. As a child, she was shorter and weaker, initially unable to lift a pot, making the task quite laborious.

That’s why she always looked forward to her father’s return—when he came, she could take a few days off from cooking.

Her father’s cooking was exceptional—dishes like stir-fried chicken breast and vegetarian white fungus were sorely missed. On her birthdays, he would prepare soup noodles, simmering bamboo shoots into an incredibly savory broth that always made her mouth water. Her mother loved these noodles too, always eating an extra half-bowl. Seeing her appetite pleased her father, and the family would enjoy their time together harmoniously. After dinner, they’d listen to her father read books or gaze at the stars in their small courtyard until she fell sound asleep.

But this year marked her first birthday without her parents.

Shen Xiling couldn’t quite describe her feelings. At that moment, she simply lowered her head and ate her soup noodles, the rising steam obscuring her expression and hiding the loneliness in her eyes from Pei Shui and the others.

Father, Mother, your daughter is twelve today.

Are you together now?

I… miss you both again.

On ordinary days, Shen Xiling would study after dinner. However, today, Master Wang had granted her three days off, so she didn’t need to attend school tomorrow. This was a rare opportunity to rest. Having studied diligently for days, Shen Xiling felt fatigued and decided to retire early.

Not long after dinner, Feng Chang entered the room and announced that a servant had arrived with a delivery for Shen Xiling, sent by Second Master Qi. She had already brought it inside.

Shen Xiling was both surprised and delighted, not expecting such a thing. But before opening the package, she eagerly grabbed Feng Chang’s hand and asked, “Has Master returned?”

The maids laughed, covering their mouths and teasing her. Feng Chang replied with a smile, “No, he hasn’t returned to Jiankang yet. He simply sent someone to deliver this gift for the young mistress.”

Pei Shui chimed in mischievously, asking Feng Chang, “Did Second Master bring gifts for anyone else? For the Prime Minister? For the Lady? For the two young masters?”

“No,” Feng Chang replied with a laugh. “I specifically asked. There are no gifts for anyone else—it’s exclusively for our young mistress.”

The group of maids burst into laughter. Zi Jun joined in the excitement, eyeing the small bundle in Feng Chang’s hand and urging impatiently, “Hurry, hurry, hurry! Open it and see what Second Master sent!”

Shen Xiling was momentarily stunned. Learning that Qi Yin had sent her a gift, she realized it was a birthday present and naturally felt immense joy. However, upon hearing that he hadn’t returned yet, her happiness diminished slightly.

More than the birthday gift, she longed for him to return soon, to see him as soon as possible.

At this point, her sisters urged her to open the package and see what the young master had sent. Shen Xiling’s face inexplicably flushed. Though there was nothing embarrassing about it, she felt awkward opening it in front of them. Blushing, she snatched the bundle and dashed into the inner room, leaving her sisters laughing behind her.

After closing the door, their laughter was muffled outside, though still faintly audible. Shen Xiling leaned against the door for a moment, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands tightly clutched the small bundle, waiting until the laughter faded before lighting the lamp.

The warm glow illuminated the room. Shen Xiling placed the bundle on the desk and sat beside it, feeling somewhat nervous. After studying it for a while, she carefully untied the knot, revealing its contents.

…It was several books.

The pages were yellowed and worn, appearing ancient, likely rare editions. There was a volume of The Book of Songs and a few anthologies.

Shen Xiling hadn’t expected Qi Yin to send her books, but upon reflection, she couldn’t imagine what else he might have chosen. She found it amusing and couldn’t help but smile. Her delicate fingers gently touched the fragile pages, recalling the towering bookshelves in the Wind Lotus Pavilion’s study. She imagined Qi Yin seated behind his large desk, piled high with official documents, holding a book in his hand. A sense of calm washed over her, and her eyes curved with a smile.

Were these books his? Perhaps not—he wasn’t in Jiankang, so they were likely purchased elsewhere. Had he read these books? Had his hands touched their covers? When he bought them, had he thought of her?

As these thoughts crossed her mind, Shen Xiling’s face flushed again.

Carefully, she removed the books from the wrapping, planning to start reading them in the coming days. After taking out the books, she noticed a small wooden box at the bottom, no larger than her palm.

Surprised by the additional gift, Shen Xiling quickly set the books aside and picked up the box.

It was an ordinary wooden box, lightweight and unassuming. As she opened it, countless guesses flashed through her mind. Perhaps it contained a box of rouge, a comb, or some other trinket.

But she never expected that inside the box lay… a grasshopper woven from straw.

She froze.

A grasshopper… woven from straw.

It was something she had once asked her father for, before their family’s tragic turn of events. He had promised to give it to her.

Her father had always been skilled with his hands. Despite his noble upbringing, he was like a craftsman, willing to do many things himself. The small bed she slept in as a child, the little clay figurines and shadow puppets she played with—most were handmade by her father. He had also given her many straw-woven items, like butterflies, foxes, and dogs, each lifelike and exquisite.

She had always wanted a grasshopper. Her father had promised her one, but then… he died.

Shen Xiling stared at the grasshopper lying in the wooden box in her palm. It was tightly and intricately woven, durable and vivid, crafted with great care. Clearly, the person who made it had put in considerable effort.

She wasn’t mistaken—the maker had indeed spent a lot of time.

To be precise, Qi Yin had spent an entire night weaving it.

Amidst the chaos and danger in Nanling, he had not forgotten that February 24th was the young girl’s birthday.

When he left Jiankang, the usually composed and proper Shen Xiling had boldly skipped Master Wang’s lesson to rush out and see him. Only then did he realize how much she relied on him and how fearful and lonely she felt.

He wished he could return sooner to celebrate her birthday with her. With her parents recently gone, this year must be especially difficult for her. Having someone by her side would surely help. But despite his best efforts, the situation in Nanling remained unstable, and he couldn’t leave.

Thus, he could only send her a birthday gift.

Qi Yin was no stranger to giving gifts. In the world of politics, social exchanges were routine, and he was well-versed in them. However, he rarely gave gifts to young girls, especially one as young as Shen Xiling, which made it somewhat challenging. Moreover, reflecting on their brief acquaintance of merely two months, during which she had remained quiet and reserved, Qi Yin struggled to discern her preferences, leaving him at a loss.

Even amidst the turmoil of war and his pressing duties, he hadn’t forgotten to choose a birthday gift for her. After much deliberation, he settled on books. He had heard she was diligent in her studies, so sending books seemed appropriate.

But after wrapping them, he felt uneasy.

He knew Shen Xiling was sensitive, her young age and tumultuous childhood contributing to her delicate nature. He feared the books might seem too formal, and though she might not say it, she might feel he had been careless. If she secretly felt hurt, it would be regrettable.

Since he had taken responsibility for her, he hoped to bring her as much joy as possible.

Yet, he was uncertain what else to give. Jewelry and hairpins were unsuitable for her age, leaving him indecisive. Then he recalled something Chancellor Shen had mentioned during their meeting at the prison.

Chancellor Shen had said he had promised to weave a small straw grasshopper for his youngest daughter.

Qi Yin didn’t know if Shen Xiling had received this grasshopper, but he presumed it was unlikely. Shen Xiling, with her reserved nature, had never mentioned missing her parents in his presence. Yet, Qi Yin understood her sorrow. For instance, when he had casually asked her who taught her to cook, the sadness in her eyes had revealed everything.

Perhaps he could weave a small grasshopper for her on behalf of her father—a gesture to fulfill a lingering wish.

However, despite his renowned intellect and talent, Qi Yin was not particularly skilled in crafting things. He initially thought weaving a small trinket would be simple, but after several attempts with tangled knots instead of a recognizable grasshopper, he realized it wasn’t as easy as he had imagined. Eventually, he sought the help of an experienced artisan, learning the craft late into the night. After mastering the technique, he spent hours making multiple grasshoppers until one finally resembled the desired shape.

And now, this tiny grasshopper, painstakingly woven by Qi Yin over an entire night, lay quietly in Shen Xiling’s palm.

Shen Xiling gazed at it, her vision gradually blurring as memories of her parents flooded her mind. She recalled countless moments—the repeated apologies from her parents that she hadn’t understood, the snowflakes clinging to her father’s straw raincoat during their last meeting, and her mother’s whispered words in prison: “Wenwen, sleep a little longer.”

These memories enveloped her, then faded like mirages, leaving only the small grasshopper in her palm—a tangible, real object.

A wave of grief overwhelmed her, but she dared not cry out loud, fearing her sisters on the other side of the door might hear and worry. Instead, she covered her mouth tightly, muffling her sobs.

This continued late into the night.

That evening, she lay on her bed for a long time, unable to fall asleep. The small grasshopper remained cradled in her palm as she studied it intently.

She alternated between thoughts of her parents and Qi Yin, silently crying until her head spun and her body grew cold, making her increasingly uncomfortable.

Unbeknownst to her, she was ill.

At her young age and frail constitution, compounded by the poorly treated wounds from Master Wang’s punishment, she had fallen sick. Believing the chill was merely due to the night air, she endured half the night curled up in bed. Not wanting to disturb Pei Shui or Feng Chang to fetch extra blankets, she eventually climbed down, retrieved Qi Yin’s long fur coat from a box beneath the bed, and wrapped herself in it.

It was the same coat he had left with her when they first met.

Two months had passed, yet Shen Xiling still seemed to detect the faint scent of sweet spikenard emanating from the garment—whether real or imagined, she couldn’t tell. When she first smelled it, the fragrance had struck her as crisp and refreshing; now, it brought her comfort. In her feverish haze, catching the scent made her feel as though Qi Yin had returned, filling her heart with joy.

Her palm still held the small grasshopper. Gently tracing its delicate strands with her fingers, she finally felt drowsiness overtaking her. As she drifted off to sleep, she reminded herself to rise early the next morning and hide the coat before Pei Shui or Feng Chang noticed.

She didn’t quite know why she felt compelled to conceal it, but something deep inside told her… she had to.

She fell asleep.

Deeply.