BXG - 117

◎Sky Shadows◎

A light drizzle fell over Lin’an.

Qu You happened to be on the apricot hill behind Tianying Pavilion, consulting with the tavern owner’s daughter about the brewing of apricot wine. On her way down, she was caught in the rain and had no choice but to shield herself with her hands, running awkwardly for a few steps.

Soon, she spotted a pale figure in white—Zhou Tan stood under a yellow oil-paper umbrella, gazing up at her through the misty rain.

Qu You froze, hurriedly lifting her skirts and running toward him. She took the umbrella from his hand, chiding gently, “Why did you come out? What if you catch a cold?”

Zhou Tan’s face was ashen, and he coughed after every few words. Despite this, he managed a faint smile, speaking calmly, “I remembered you’d forgotten your umbrella again.”

After a few steps, he added, “Lin’an isn’t like Bianjing—the rain comes without warning. This is already the third time you’ve forgotten your umbrella.”

Qu You grew annoyed. “It’s only a dozen steps up the apricot hill. Why would I need to carry an umbrella every day?”

Zhou Tan let out a soft hum, smiling quietly without responding.

In just a short while, the lingering drizzle ceased, almost vanishing entirely.

The couple lived in a secluded courtyard named Apricot Flower Retreat. Someone had been playing “Apricot Flower Sky Shadow” in the distance when Zhou Tan personally inscribed the name “Tianying” (Sky Shadow) for their pavilion.

On one of the pillars of the pavilion, Qu You had casually scribbled a line: “As dusk falls, where shall we steer our boat?”

Entering the courtyard, Zhou Tan glanced at the scattered petals of apricot flowers beaten down by the rain. He suddenly suggested, “Shall we sit in the pavilion and admire the post-rain scenery?”

His health had been deteriorating, and he shouldn’t linger in the chilly spring air. Just as Qu You was about to object, she abruptly remembered the blood-stained handkerchief she had found beneath her pillow that morning.

How long should a person live? How much joy can they truly experience?

She recalled the lines she had written for Zhou Tan: “After the wine is drained, leaning on my cane, I sing my song.”

Smiling faintly, she replied, “Alright.”

Zhou Tan wrapped her in his fur-lined cloak, ignoring the stone stools inside the pavilion and sitting instead on the steps of Tianying Pavilion.

From their vantage point, looking up, they could see the sky fragmented by the branches of apricot trees.

Amidst the rain-laden breeze, Zhou Tan was unusually lost in thought. He stared silently at the sparse raindrops dripping from the eaves.

A red silk ribbon tied to an apricot tree hung limp from the rain, unable to flutter. Qu You didn’t disturb him but, after staring at the ribbon for a moment, suddenly remembered something. She turned to look at Zhou Tan’s temples.

The young man’s hair was still jet-black and glossy, just as it had always been.

No premature gray hairs, unlike in her dreams.

Feeling slightly reassured, she asked casually, “What are you thinking about?”

Uncharacteristically, Zhou Tan spoke the truth. “I’m wondering… what epitaph should be carved on my tombstone?”

Realizing his mistake, he fell silent, unsure how to remedy his words. After a brief pause, Qu You forced a smile and said, “Isn’t that something I, the one who will erect the tombstone, should decide?”

She suddenly remembered something from long ago. “Didn’t you build a grave for yourself outside Bianjing?”

Zhou Tan nodded. “Before leaving Bianjing, I had someone bring back a handful of soil from my parents’ graves. As for my own… I destroyed it.”

“Why?”

Zhou Tan crossed his hands and lay back against the steps. “I don’t want to die in Bianjing.”

After a pause, he added, “When the time comes, bury me on Apricot Hill. I like it there.”

Qu You pursed her lips and agreed, “Alright.”

A petal drifted down with the last remnants of rain, landing softly on his eyelids. Zhou Tan didn’t bother brushing it away but simply asked, “Have you decided what to carve on my tombstone?”

Qu You remained silent.

“You and your fame will vanish together, but the rivers will flow forever.” Zhou Tan recited softly with his eyes closed, then immediately dismissed it. “No, too vulgar. Let me think of something else…”

Qu You propped her head on her hand, lying down beside him. She heard Zhou Tan continue, “Did your Brother Ni have any brilliant suggestions? I remember you often quoted him in moments like this…”

Qu You laughed at his sudden bout of jealousy. “Brother Ni won’t be born for another thousand years. Lord Zhou probably won’t meet him.”

Zhou Tan gave a soft snort. “You once said he had already passed away.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he coughed unexpectedly twice. Qu You immediately sat up, alarmed to see Zhou Tan covering his mouth with a handkerchief. Blood dripped from his handkerchief onto her hand.

Seeing her expression, Zhou Tan took a few shallow breaths and spoke haltingly, “I remember… my qin is on the desk. Could you fetch it for me?”

Knowing he didn’t want her to see his current state, she suppressed her anguish and stood to retrieve the instrument.

When she returned with the qin, Zhou Tan had already tucked away the handkerchief, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Enough of these morbid thoughts,” Zhou Tan said, taking the qin and placing it across his lap. “Treasure your youth while it lasts… When flowers bloom, pluck them without hesitation. Shall I play you a tune of The Golden Thread Robe ?”

“Yes,” Qu You readily agreed. “I’ll heat up some wine.”

She hadn’t yet mastered the art of brewing apricot wine, so she fetched the most common wine sold on the streets. Though Zhou Tan had tasted the finest wines in the world, he found this simple drink the most soothing.

Qu You’s tolerance for alcohol was poor, and she quickly became drunk. Leaning lazily on Zhou Tan’s lap, she pointed at the sky and boldly declared, “Gaze upon the endless sky, embracing past and present. Why dwell on petty grievances?”

The music quickened, and Qu You raised her cup, draining it in one gulp.

“Raise your goblet high, listen to The Golden Thread Robe !”

After finishing the piece, Zhou Tan gently stroked her face, brushing her stray strands of hair aside. His touch felt icy, and Qu You suddenly noticed something cold in his hand.

She grabbed his hand and discovered he was wearing the white jade thumb ring.

Her tears flowed uncontrollably.

Zhou Tan, flustered, tried to soothe her. “Why are you crying, A Lian? What did I do to upset you?”

Qu You clutched his hand tightly, repeatedly caressing the jade thumb ring. Her voice trembled as she muttered, “So… you were thinking of me when you looked at it? Were you thinking of me when you sat alone under that tree?”

“But… I still have things left to do.”

Qu You fell into a deep sleep, her head resting on his lap. Some of her words made sense to him, while others didn’t.

Understanding or not, it didn’t seem to matter much.

What mattered more was to savor every moment together.

________________________________________

When Qu You woke the next day, the sun was already high in the sky.

Rubbing her pounding head, she threw on a robe and stepped outside. Pushing open the door, she saw Zhou Tan sitting alone at the end of the corridor, a thin blanket draped over his knees as he stared blankly at the apricot blossoms.

It felt like a dream. Suddenly, she heard two voices from beyond the courtyard wall. Though soft, the voices rang clearly in her ears.

“…They say the man living in Apricot Flower Retreat was once a great villain. Now he’s barely clinging to life, and no physician dares visit.”

“He must have committed too many sins and incurred divine punishment!”

It wasn’t that physicians refused to come. Qu You had sought out all the renowned doctors in Lin’an, but none could offer a solution. After Bai Ying’s death, the entire Imperial Medical Academy had examined Zhou Tan, and each doctor had shaken their head in despair.

Over time, she had given up hope, afraid to seek further treatment for fear of new disappointments.

But now, she couldn’t dwell on such thoughts.

The voices sounded eerily familiar—they had appeared vividly in her dreams.

Qu You’s face turned ashen. She quickened her pace, rushing toward Zhou Tan at the end of the corridor. Being near him made her feel safer.

The scene from her dream replayed before her eyes.

If she remembered correctly, Zhou Tan was supposed to die at this very moment.

Above him bloomed apricot flowers; beside him lay the thin blanket. In his hand, he clutched the white jade thumb ring, surrounded by whispers of misunderstanding. Alone, he seemed eternal in his silence.

Before she reached him, she heard a sharp reprimand from beyond the wall.

It was the tavern owner’s daughter, whom Qu You often consulted. “Tsk, what nonsense are you two spouting here? Say another word, and I’ll curse your tongues to rot!”

One of the gossipers yelped in pain. “Second Sister, you’re blind to the truth! Didn’t you hear? This man committed countless crimes in Bianjing—he’s a corrupt official!”

Second Sister retorted fiercely, “What nonsense! All I know is that this lady is kind, and the master often gives alms. Every village within miles has benefited from their generosity. You two scoundrels spread rumors like wildfire. If I hear another word, you’ll regret it!”

Qu You stopped in her tracks, stunned.

Zhou Tan, however, seemed oblivious, turning to look at her with a faint smile. Though pale, his expression showed no weakness. “Why run so fast? Be careful.”

She walked slowly toward him, hearing a knock at the gate. Opening it, she saw Second Sister, accompanied by her son Fu Sheng, whose hair was tied in a topknot.

Still puzzled, Qu You asked, “Second Sister, why are you here?”

Second Sister smiled warmly, a stark contrast to her earlier fierceness. “After parting with you yesterday, it rained. I was worried you might have caught a chill, so I came to check. I’m glad you’re fine. This is my son, Fu Sheng. He insisted on coming to thank Master.”

Qu You patted the boy’s head, and Fu Sheng ran to Zhou Tan, clutching a windmill he had made. Though shy, he extended it to Zhou Tan. “This is for you.”

Zhou Tan didn’t take it at first, smiling as he asked, “Why give this to me?”

Fu Sheng answered brightly, “Father said Grandfather was gravely ill this spring, and we couldn’t afford medicine because of poor harvests. Thanks to Master’s kindness, Grandfather recovered. Mother also found work selling wine, and our lives are better now. I made this windmill to thank you.”

Just as Zhou Tan accepted the windmill, Fu Sheng whispered, “Master, you look so handsome, like a celestial being from a storybook. Can I call you Brother?”

Zhou Tan chuckled. “Of course.”

Fu Sheng blew on the windmill, watching it spin, then ran back to his mother. Second Sister called after him, “Fu Sheng, did you forget what I taught you?”

The boy stopped, straightened his back, and clumsily performed a formal bow to Zhou Tan. Though imperfect, the gesture touched Zhou Tan deeply.

“Goodbye, Brother!” Fu Sheng waved.

Second Sister mimicked her son’s bow and took her leave.

Qu You closed the gate and turned to see Zhou Tan staring at the paper windmill, his eyes inexplicably red.

Understanding dawned on her. She walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder, and said earnestly, “Even those who have never met you are willing to learn the manners of a gentleman for you.”

“To be a gentleman—that is what it means.”

Zhou Tan looked up at her, tears welling in his eyes, though his face remained smiling.

“In that case, this life hasn’t been too bad.”

Qu You held his hand, about to respond, when a loud crash startled her. The gate, which she hadn’t closed properly, had been kicked open!

An elderly man with grizzled hair entered, his eyes sharp and lively. Without preamble, he demanded, “Are you Zhou Tan?”

Qu You stepped protectively in front of Zhou Tan, cautiously asking, “Who are you, sir?”

The old man slapped his thigh. “Finally found you! You two have no idea how hard it was to track you down!”

He immediately pulled out a medical kit hidden in his sleeve, impatiently waving Qu You aside. “Move, let me take his pulse.”

Qu You hesitated. “Sir, you—”

“Oh, me?” The old man frowned, picking up a silver needle and blowing on it absently. “Call me Jue Ming Zi. Everyone does. I received a letter from my unlucky disciple before he died, instructing me to find you. Do you know how hard it was? They say children are debts from past lives. I’m childless, yet here I am, sent on errands by my foolish apprentice. What a miserable fate…”

Qu You’s heart skipped a beat. “Jue Ming Zi?”

Li Jue Ming—a legendary physician immortalized in historical records. His pseudonym, “Jue Ming,” was derived from the medicinal herb cassia seeds, not his real name. His book, Nanshan Caolu , remained influential for centuries.

She began to understand something, abandoning formalities to ask tremulously, “Your disciple—is he…?”

Jue Ming Zi grasped Zhou Tan’s wrist, who offered no resistance. After feeling his pulse, the old man whistled and casually replied, “My disciple? He’s an old acquaintance of yours. Bai Ying, no courtesy name. I found him nameless years ago. Poor thing—after teaching him everything, he turned out to be such a stubborn fool…”

Qu You’s knees nearly buckled. “Sir, my husband’s illness…”

Jue Ming Zi turned to her, raising an eyebrow mischievously. “Illness? What illness? He was poisoned by my wretched disciple, who later regretted it and insisted I clean up his mess before dying…”

“Poison?” Qu You repeated, clutching at hope. “Can it be cured? And if it is, how long can he live?”

“Not long,” Jue Ming Zi quipped nonchalantly. But seeing Qu You’s pale face, he hastily amended, “Wait, wait! I’m joking! If it weren’t curable, why would I go through all this trouble to find you? He’ll live, he’ll live! Ninety-nine years, alright? By the way, I’m hungry. Do you have any roujiamo?”