# 126: Spring River Moon

[Part 1·The Mountain Moon Knows Not]

The Spring Lady of the Wind and Rain Pavilion had a peculiar rule.

Unless one was an old acquaintance, no guest from Jinling was permitted entry.

Ye Liuchun detested Jinling.

Though to be fair, she disliked Lin’an even more.

Her memories of Lin’an were confined within the narrow walls of Drunken Red Tower—filthy, cramped, and muddy. Though just beyond its walls lay the most dazzling extravagance of Lin’an, her world consisted only of cobwebs coated in dust, beds reeking of mold, and her perpetually weary mother.

When she turned sixteen, her mother passed away.

With no money for a proper burial, unwilling to let her mother become a lonely spirit in a pauper’s grave, she rushed to the pond where her mother had drowned. Washing her face there, she retrieved the waterlogged moon lute tangled with weeds.

Her fingers brushed the strings, damp and sticky. She lacked her usual composure, and the melody of Spring River Flower Moon Night emerged as if it were a dirge.

Had her mother still been alive, she would have scolded her.

Zhou Tan was the only good person Ye Liuchun had met in Lin’an.

But she was desperate to escape that place. After burying her mother, she hastily boarded a ship leaving Lin’an, turning back only to mumble a clumsy bow, promising to repay his kindness someday.

As the ferry departed, the figures of Zhou Tan and his younger brother grew smaller and smaller in the eyes of the girl then known as “Little Ye.”

Unconsciously, she fingered the old wooden plaque hanging from her waist.

This plaque wasn’t worth much, but it had been handed to her by her mother when she was very young.

It was the first time she learned that her mother had once been a noblewoman. Her father’s misfortune and her maternal family’s downfall had led to their enslavement, reducing her—a girl destined to be a lady of high society—to nothing more than dirt beneath others’ feet.

Her mother had gripped her wrist tightly and implored her:

“Don’t fall into depravity. Hide your true self. You are the daughter of a noble household, a descendant of a renowned figure from the former dynasty in Jinling. Conduct yourself honorably; do not rely on selling smiles to survive.”

By the end, her mother was sobbing uncontrollably.

Little Ye thought her mother knew well enough that this wish could never come true.

Without an imperial pardon, descendants of disgraced officials could never escape their status. Even if she wanted to live respectably through honest labor—sweeping, sewing, washing—such aspirations would be denied.

Her mother, in a frenzy, tied the wooden plaque to her belt, rambling incessantly.

“Little Ye, do you know? There is a wonderful marriage arranged for you. When I first conceived you, our families betrothed us. When you grow up, take this plaque to them. They are a prominent family… Surely they will find a way to free you from servitude.”

She couldn’t bring herself to shatter her mother’s dream.

If they still cared about old ties, that family should have offered help when her household fell. Now, after years of hardship, how could they possibly acknowledge such a marriage?

But after her mother’s death, this fragile promise became her last connection to her. Unable to linger in Lin’an, she clung to this illusion, using it to propel herself toward Jinling or Bianjing.

In the prolonged rainy season of Jinling, at the Spring Wind Ferry, she first encountered Bai Shating, the thirteenth young master of the Bai family.

Zhou Tan had saved her, but though he appeared carefree on the surface, he remained a disciplined and upright gentleman at heart.

Grateful for his kindness, she vowed to repay him. Yet she understood well that Zhou Tan and she belonged to different worlds—worthy of respect but unapproachable.

When the young master first met her, he exclaimed with raised tones, “Wow!”

“What a beautiful maiden! What is your name?”

He wore his hair in a high ponytail, exuding innocence and charm. A folding fan was always in hand, and a smile perpetually graced his face—gentle yet mischievous without being offensive.

Startled by his question, Little Ye blushed and stammered slightly.

“I... I’m called Little Ye.”

“Little Ye?” Bai Shating snapped open his fan with a flourish, casually pulling her toward his family’s carriage without further inquiry about her identity. “Then I’ll call you Little Leaf.”

Relying on the Bai family’s influence in Jinling, Little Ye avoided scrutiny of her records.

In Zhou Tan’s letter to Bai Shating, he vaguely mentioned her plight of selling herself to bury her mother but said nothing of her origins. Believing her to be from a humble background, Bai Shating booked her the finest room at the city’s best inn.

Each day, he wandered aimlessly with her through Jinling, searching for the owner of the wooden plaque.

Occasionally passing by the Qinhuai River, Bai Shating would chat warmly with an old woman selling plum blossom cakes, charming her until she beamed. He bought the entire batch and distributed them along the streets to beggars.

Little Ye and he received the hottest pieces straight from the pot—glutinous rice balls, pine nuts, walnut bits drizzled with brown sugar, steaming hot and irresistibly sweet.

Or near the Peach Leaf Ferry, amidst the music drifting from boats on the Qinhuai River, Bai Shating would point to the dimly lit waters and enthusiastically recount tales of passionate love entwined within this hedonistic haven.

Bai Shating whispered conspiratorially to her, “I’m timid. Truthfully, I’ve never really been inside. Once dragged there by Brother Liu, I was so moved by a courtesan’s tragic tale that I ended up giving her my entire purse… The girls teased me about it for half a year. Just thinking about it embarrasses me.”

“How is that embarrassing?” Little Ye, who used to stutter around him, had grown bolder after several days. Her cheeks flushed as she earnestly replied, “Young Master Bai, your kindness and goodness touch them… Actually, what they say may not all be lies. Over time, no one believes them anymore, not even themselves.”

At Drunken Red Tower, she had seen many courtesans weep drunkenly after performances. Amidst the pretense, a few truths slipped out—truths no one believed, eventually not even the speakers themselves.

Yet he chose to believe, shedding tears and sighing for them. Such genuine empathy, directed at her, would leave her eternally grateful.

Upon hearing these words, Bai Shating suddenly sobered, his teasing demeanor fading.

Under the night sky, his eyes reflected the glow of lanterns, sincere and captivating. “You too, Little Leaf. You’re wonderful—kind, innocent, beautiful… You will have a very fine life ahead. Past hardships will fade like clouds.”

After that night, Bai Shating continued to take Ye Liuchun around Jinling under the pretense of searching for the owner of the wooden plaque. Yet, both of them knew something had shifted between them.

For instance, when fireworks lit up the Qinhuai River, he held her hand.

Or one drunken evening, as she recounted the fall of her family, he embraced her waist in his inebriated state.

The Bai household had many daughters and few sons, and Bai Shating had grown up surrounded by sisters. He was adept at comforting women, his tenderness flowing like water: “Don’t be afraid, it’s all in the past… My mother passed away early too. My favorite brother from childhood disappeared without a trace… Life is filled with joys and sorrows, endlessly intertwined.”

In his drunken haze, he kissed her cheek.

Ye Liuchun’s voice trembled: “Young Master Bai…”

Bai Shating chuckled softly: “Call me Thirteen from now on.”

After a pause, he added, “Little Leaf, your mother never gave you a name, did she? Let me give you one, shall I?”

She instinctively nodded: “Alright.”

They were aboard a pleasure boat on the Qinhuai River, drifting aimlessly without a ferryman. The water rippled gently beneath them.

Bai Shating rummaged for paper and brush in the cabin, his gaze hazy from drink. “My name comes from the poem you played, Spring River Flower Moon Night —’Frost unseen in the air, white sand indistinct on the riverbank.’ Your name should come from it too.”

He rolled up his sleeves, writing the lines with bold strokes. Then, narrowing his eyes at the moonlight dancing on the river, he completed it in one fluid motion.

“Spring flows away with the river, nearly spent…”

The white sand blended seamlessly with the moonlight, an indistinguishable silver expanse.

The river flowed ceaselessly, carrying spring away with it, fading into nothingness.

“Liuchun—Flowing Spring.”

“A beautiful name… just like you.”

Bai Shating leaned in to kiss her. She closed her eyes, her body stiffening.

She thought she should resist, maintain some semblance of feminine modesty. But she couldn’t bring herself to push him away.

The dress she wore that day was a gift from him—delicate gauze embroidered with gold, elegant and ethereal. Bai Shating caressed her shoulders, sending shivers down her spine.

The kiss trailed from her lips downward.

Ye Liuchun wore a plum blossom sachet she had crafted, its clean fragrance mingling with the scent of alcohol, intoxicating and mesmerizing.

The young master cradled her neck, suddenly sobering slightly. Breathing heavily, he lifted his head, his eyes burning with a desire she had never seen before.

But then he lowered his gaze, steadying her shoulders.

Ye Liuchun felt too tense to speak: “Young Master Bai…”

Bai Shating replied hoarsely: “You still call me Young Master Bai?”

Her face flushed red as she hesitantly corrected herself: “Thirteen…”

He acknowledged her softly, then abruptly pulled out the wooden plaque he had been helping her search for: “Actually… on the first day you arrived, I already found out. That family has been wiped out, just a year after yours fell. The young master betrothed to you probably didn’t live past five years old.”

She blinked slowly: “I know.”

Bai Shating was startled: “Huh?”

“I know… You figured it out long ago but didn’t tell me, just as I’ve never asked you about it either.”

They understood each other perfectly this time. He got it.

Ye Liuchun took the wooden plaque from him and casually tossed it into the Qinhuai River.

Bai Shating wanted to stop her but decided against it: “You never really believed you’d find them, did you?”

Her half-up hairstyle, disheveled from their earlier intimacy, lay messy atop her head. She paid it no mind, leaning lazily against the cabin. “Of course not. How could I place hope in something so illusory?”

Bai Shating sighed, pulling her into his arms. He made no further moves, simply sitting with her in silence.

It was Ye Liuchun who reached for the moon lute nearby, plucking the strings lightly: “Thirteen, you’ve never heard my music.”

She left his embrace, sitting carelessly on the boat’s railing. Her hair was tousled, her shoulder slightly exposed—a vision of wet cloud-like tresses and pale, moonlit arms.

Indeed, he had never heard such beautiful music before.

Many years later, Bai Shating would still recall the sensations of that moment—tingling, moist. Before meeting her, he had been naive, unaware of the intoxicating allure of love.

That was why, in the future, he would write endlessly about the world’s melancholic passions.

But what he failed to understand was himself.

________________________________________

The next day, Ye Liuchun moved out of the inn where she had been staying and into the first private residence Bai Shating had purchased in Jinling.

Years later, during a drunken night on the terrace of the Wind and Rain Pavilion, Ye Liuchun would look back on those days and laugh at her own naivety.

She hadn’t understood what moving into his outer residence meant. She immersed herself in the dream of being a lovesick maiden, while Bai Shating, deeply infatuated, abandoned his usual hobbies of cockfighting and gambling to spend every day with her. They adorned flowers, drank wine, chased butterflies, and painted eyebrows together, living like a real married couple.

They kissed, touched, their hair tangling, inseparable.

The first time they made love, she half-opened her eyes, seeing the dim red canopy above her. The auspicious pattern of melons and vines gave her fleeting illusions of living an ordinary life.

In autumn, Zhou Tan wrote to say he was going to Bianjing to prepare for the imperial exams and invited Bai Shating to join him.

Under lamplight, Bai Shating penned a reply, saying he would visit Zhou Tan in Bianjing for drinks later but wouldn’t go this year.

In truth, he wasn’t entirely idle. His private residence housed countless books, and he often read with her. But youthful indulgence kept him from wasting precious springtime.

As Ye Liuchun ground ink for him, she hesitated before asking: “Thirteen, what are your plans for the future?”

Resting his chin on his hand, Bai Shating mused: “To serve the world and bring peace is the scholar’s eternal aspiration. But… I also want to be a great poet.”

Chewing on the brush, he muttered vaguely: “When I go to Bianjing for the exams, will you come with me? Though it might be troublesome—you can stay here if you prefer. Father always says that without academic achievement, even someone from a wealthy, prestigious family like ours will struggle to marry a highborn lady. Personally, I see no rush to marry early. Still, if I do marry sooner, I can give you a proper title sooner. Keeping you as an outer concubine pains me; I dare not let Father know yet. Once I achieve success, I’ll ask him to accept you as a concubine—it shouldn’t be too difficult…”

He paused, noticing her hand grinding the ink had stiffened. “What’s wrong?”

Ye Liuchun quickly averted her gaze, shaking her head numbly.

Even the most carefully pasted window paper couldn’t withstand a strong gust of wind.

She abruptly woke from the dream she had woven for herself over the past six months, feeling a vast emptiness in her heart, the wind howling.

After a moment of silence, Bai Shating heard her say:

“Thirteen, do you know… I’m from a lowly background? To take me as a concubine, aside from the trouble of removing my status, people will ridicule you.”

He sighed in relief: “I’ve known you were from the pleasure quarters since the beginning. Though Zhou Tan didn’t mention it in his letter, I could investigate. It doesn’t matter to me.”

The icy wind inside her heart froze into a bone-chilling layer of frost.

Ye Liuchun felt she couldn’t smile anymore. She repeated softly: “You’ve known… all along?”

Lost in thought, she realized Zhou Tan’s letter hadn’t mentioned it, but her documents had been scrutinized. There was nothing hidden—anyone could have uncovered the truth.

During their first kiss, she had considered rejecting him out of “modesty,” but ultimately couldn’t bear to.

He wanted her, offering no promises. After much hesitation, she surrendered herself, closing her eyes and dreaming of a lifelong union.

But in his eyes, she was someone who didn’t need promises to kiss, someone who didn’t require marriage to be intimate.

She imagined herself as a virtuous woman, but he treated her like a courtesan.

The Bai family was the foremost clan in Jinling. Bai Shating said only the finest clothes and jewelry suited her, lavishing her with gold and jade until her bedroom overflowed.

Moments ago, these gifts had seemed tokens of affection.

Now, they felt like payment.

Outer concubine, concubine, wife…

These words swirled chaotically in her mind.

She couldn’t fault him. Bai Shating hadn’t done anything wrong. Any courtesan would have devoted herself entirely to such a man.

But still…

Bai Shating noticed her change in expression, dropped his pen, and embraced her anxiously: “Liuchun, are you alright?”

Ye Liuchun stared at his face.

He was always radiant, his eyes gentle and affectionate, silently making maidens blush. He loved to laugh freely, charming others with clever words. When happy, his face glimmered with mischievous delight. He was the brightest youth in Jinling, the beloved youngest son of the Bai family.

—Such a person, such a person!

How could she ever dare imagine that such a person would wholeheartedly love someone as lowly, poor, and easily “taken advantage of” as her?

She should be grateful for his kindness.

She should understand his thoughts—they were perfectly normal, what anyone else would think.

He had treated her with utmost decency.

If she had any conscience, she shouldn’t, she shouldn’t—

But she couldn’t hold back.

Ye Liuchun traced Bai Shating’s brows, a sudden wave of malicious intent trembling through her. And then she heard herself say: “Dear Bai, you knew I was a prostitute and didn’t tell me sooner. If you had, I wouldn’t have pretended to be virtuous… Every day, I acted the part just to coax more money out of you. It was exhausting.”

She curved her lips, mimicking the sweet smiles she’d seen in Drunken Red Tower: “But since you’re so generous, it’s worth it for me…”

She cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Bai Shating violently shoved her away.

He stood up, staring at her in disbelief, his voice trembling: “What are you saying?”

Ye Liuchun collided with the table corner, her arm quickly bruising. She felt no pain, didn’t rise, and simply murmured softly: “…Dear Bai, why are you angry?”

Bai Shating picked up the jade paperweight from the table and hurled it to the ground, shouting: “I should ask you why you’re angry!”

He regretted it immediately as shards of jade scattered. Ye Liuchun raised her sleeve to shield her face.

“I’m not angry,” Ye Liuchun said with a smile, ignoring the fragments on her face. She crawled toward him, obediently wrapping her arms around his legs: “Dear Bai, you know best. All this time, I’ve lived in fear that you’d find out and despise me for being dirty…”

Bai Shating grabbed her collar, lifting her off the ground: “Are you humiliating yourself or me? You know very well…”

Ye Liuchun thought blankly: What do I know?

That you like me?

Yes, I know. But I also know this affection is shallow, worthless.

You’re inexperienced, having seen none of the world’s myriad beauties.

This fleeting fondness will vanish with the flowing river, dissipating like dew.

Isn’t love always an illusion, brief and ephemeral?

Or perhaps… you’ve done your best?

I know that too. I know I should be grateful, that I’ll never meet a better patron than you.

But still, still!

Bai Shating’s eyes reddened with grievance. Sniffling, he softened his tone, speaking carefully: “Making you wait for me to achieve success does wrong you. But without it, Father won’t accept you into the family… I swear, I won’t make you wait long. Don’t be afraid.”

Ye Liuchun froze.

So he thought her earlier self-deprecating words stemmed from fear that he couldn’t promise her a future.

But wasn’t the future he painted exactly what terrified her most?

Ye Liuchun laughed softly. When she finished, she rose from the ground, smoothing her hair, pretending she still had a shred of dignity: “I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid… You… should leave.”

Bai Shating said: “You’re clearly still angry.”

Ye Liuchun explained wearily: “No… Can a prostitute choose whether to entertain a customer today? Must I keep you here?”

Bai Shating jumped up: “I knew you were still angry… You, you… Why should I leave? This is my house!”

“Oh…” Ye Liuchun repeated dazedly, “Right, this is your house. Then I’ll leave.”

Without even putting on a coat, she headed for the door. Bai Shating grabbed her arm, yanking her back. “Where are you going at this hour? Fine, I’ll leave… I won’t come back!”

Her head hung low, Bai Shating couldn’t see her expression, unaware that his casual words caused her unbearable anguish.

He said he wouldn’t come back… But wasn’t his presence always conditional? She would grow old eventually, yet he would remain a flirtatious guest chasing beauty.

Without opening her eyes, she could envision all her future days.

Might as well get used to it.

Bai Shating stormed out but remembered something at the doorway, returning angrily to toss her a finely carved wooden box: “I made this myself, intending to cheer you up. Now… never mind, do what you want with it.”

Long after he left, Ye Liuchun picked up the box, trembling as she opened it.

Inside was a clumsily tied lover’s knot, embroidered with an equally clumsy “Bai.”

Pressing the knot to her chest, she tried to cry but couldn’t make a sound. Tears streamed hot and fast—she remembered watching her mother beaten by a client as a child. Her mother had signaled her to stay silent, and she had clamped her hand over her mouth, tears soaking her palm.

She shouldn’t cry—it was too sentimental.

The things envied and desired by the girls in Drunken Red Tower, she had them all. What more could she possibly want?

Ye Liuchun drifted through three or four days in a haze. Only then did she realize Bai Shating hadn’t come.

He had never stayed away for more than three days.

She dressed and rushed to the door, ready to step out but hesitated. Grabbing a cleaning maid, she asked where he was. The maid brushed her hand away disdainfully, saying she didn’t know.

She asked a servant girl outside. Though polite on the surface, the girl’s eyes gleamed with schadenfreude and contempt: “How would I know where the young master is? If you want to find him, why not go directly to the Bai residence?”

Living in his private residence, lost in her self-woven fantasy, she hadn’t bothered to ingratiate herself with these people.

Now, through their eyes, she finally saw what she truly was.