Although she had woken up, Xie Miao’er’s heart had yet to recover from the aftershocks of her dream.
Everything she experienced in the dream was too vivid, as if she had truly accompanied him through those final days.
Xie Miao’er raised her hand, trying to calm her wildly beating heart.
But she couldn’t stop herself from recalling the sights within the dream.
Large swaths of blood stung her eyes.
It was Lu Huaihai’s blood.
She clutched her head with both hands, curling up on the bed and taking a long while before she could catch her breath.
The traces of someone having slept on the floor mat throughout the night were still there. Xie Miao’er’s gaze swept over them, and she unexpectedly felt a hint of reassurance.
At least, for now, he was still alive and well.
Xie Miao’er slowly let out a breath. She slipped on her embroidered shoes, straightened her clothes, and leisurely climbed out of bed.
In the past, as soon as she woke up, Xing You, hearing her stir, would promptly lift the bed curtain, bring her a warm towel to freshen up, and then prepare a strong tea rinse for her morning use.
But now, Xie Miao’er’s circumstances were vastly different.
She was no longer the cherished daughter of Grand Tutor Xie, but merely a small concubine in the Lu family.
Lu Huaihai was only seventeen this year, and the true pillar of the Lu family was still his father, Lu Paizhang.
Although Lu Paizhang held a hereditary position as a Qianhu1 and currently served as a Commandant Assistant2 in the Taizhou Guard, a fourth-rank official, the Lu family originally hailed from Yulin. They had managed their affairs for generations on the Loess Plateau. After being transferred to Zhejiang, they were strangers in a foreign land. Moreover, due to his early-life experiences, Lu Paizhang had no ambition for politics, spending his days fulfilling basic duties without striving for wealth or power.
This was evident from the Lu family’s residence.
In the Grand Tutor Xie household, even the quarters for servant women were kept tidy and never allowed to fall into such disrepair.
Thus, Xie Miao’er knew she needed to learn how to do some things on her own.
The redwood washstand and dressing table were the only presentable pieces of furniture in the bedroom. Xie Miao’er lifted the cloth covering the mirror, picked up her only personal belonging—a simple silver hairpin—and sat before the mirror to do her hair.
She used to marvel at Xing You’s effortless movements when styling hair, but now, following her example, Xie Miao’er found it unbelievably difficult.
Feeling vexed, she wrestled with her unruly strands for a long time before finally managing to form a loose bun.
After scrutinizing herself in the mirror for a moment, she decided she was presentable and picked up the wooden basin to wash up.
Since the hairpin wasn’t secured tightly, Xie Miao’er stiffened her neck as she walked, not daring to move carelessly for fear it would come undone halfway.
Stepping outside, she belatedly realized that the sky had not yet fully brightened.
Noticing that the floor mat was empty and Lu Huaihai had already risen, she thought it must be later than it actually was.
In the small courtyard, Lu Huaihai, having learned from yesterday’s mistakes, discarded the dust-covered broom and dismantled a horizontal rod from the climbing fig trellis to use as a makeshift weapon. He was now practicing sword techniques with vigor.
Even with a mere wooden stick, his movements were so elegant. And this was only him at seventeen. Passing by with the basin in her hands, Xie Miao’er couldn’t help but marvel, “Wow, so impressive!”
It was just a casual remark; she had no intention of striking up a conversation with Lu Huaihai. After leaving behind those words, she nonchalantly walked past him.
Unexpectedly, Lu Huaihai stopped his movements and called out to her, “Wait a moment.”
Xie Miao’er obediently stopped in her tracks and turned her head to look at him with a confused expression.
She acted as if nothing had happened, completely unaware of what she had done the night before. Seeing her utterly clueless look, Lu Huaihai asked, “Do you know why I woke up so early?”
Xie Miao’er instinctively wanted to shake her head, but remembering how loose her hair bun was, she switched to waving her hand instead.
Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, she thought of an answer and said, “Is it because Young Master Lu wants to emulate Zu Ti3 and practice swordsmanship at the crow of the rooster?”
A rooster?
Lu Huaihai thought to himself: when her shouting woke him up, let alone roosters crowing, even the dogs on the street probably hadn’t gone to sleep yet!
Grinding his molars, he was about to speak but then noticed the unabashedly admiring gaze from the girl in front of him.
Her voice was as clear as a spring thaw breaking through the ice, and she spoke with such earnestness, “Compared to Young Master Lu, I feel like I could bury myself in shame.”
Little did Xie Miao’er know, the real reason Lu Huaihai had woken up early was because her sleep-talking had jolted him awake and left him unable to go back to sleep, so he decided to get up and practice martial arts instead.
She genuinely thought he was diligent. Getting up so early to train—it was no wonder he would one day become a great general!
However, the truth, spoken plainly, can sometimes sound like sarcasm. Lu Huaihai instantly raised an eyebrow, but seeing the sincerity almost overflowing from Xie Miao’er’s face, he swallowed back his words.
Sleep-talkers are no different from drunkards: once they wake up, they forget everything. Sleep-talkers rarely admit to their actions, just as drunkards don’t remember their drunken antics.
Drunkards, at least, have only themselves to blame for their troubles; when they sober up, you can still give them a hard time. But with sleep-talkers…
What could he do? Grab her and beat her up?
Lu Huaihai let out a sigh and glanced at Xie Miao’er with a hint of pity.
With her frail little frame, he could knock her away with just one swing of his sword.
In the end, all he said to Xie Miao’er was, “Forget it, go wash up.”
Xie Miao’er was baffled. Forget it? Forget what?
But knowing there were many things she didn’t understand, she didn’t press for answers and went off to wash her face with a dazed expression.
When she finished washing up, Lu Huaihai was still practicing swordsmanship. Xie Miao’er didn’t know anything about martial arts and couldn’t comment on its intricacies, but she could tell that his movements were graceful and as fluid as the wind.
Xie Miao’er quickened her steps.
She needed to return the empty basin as soon as possible so she could watch him train!
Was there anything more enjoyable than this?
She couldn’t believe she had the privilege to witness General Lu, a figure admired for centuries to come, practicing swordsmanship (even if it was just with a wooden stick). So many people revered him in the future, but how many had her good fortune to see this?
Xie Miao’er was so thrilled she felt like she could fly into the air.
In the fifteen years of her previous life, the only thing that had ever held her back was her frail, uncooperative body.
But precisely because she was so sickly, Grand Tutor Xie and his wife had long resolved to care for her throughout her life. They had never intended for her to marry, nor had they required her to adhere strictly to the rules of a proper young Mistress.
Xie Miao’er had grown up in the loving care of her parents, with little interaction beyond her family and the maids and nannies. As a result, her words and actions were always straightforward and innocent.
Whatever she thought of, she would go and do.
Xie Miao’er struggled to drag a chair over to the window, pushing open the long lattice-framed window on the white wall. She stretched her neck out over the windowsill, boldly observing the scene.
Naturally, Lu Huaihai quickly noticed her gaze.
Seeing him pause his movements again, Xie Miao’er instinctively shrank her neck, assuming her presence had disturbed him. She quickly said, “Sorry, I… I won’t watch anymore.”
Just as Xie Miao’er felt she didn’t fully understand Lu Huaihai, Lu Huaihai, at this moment, also realized he couldn’t quite figure out this newly arrived concubine of his.
His gaze flickered, and in the end, his eyes met hers in midair.
Lu Huaihai asked her, “Miss Xie, do you mind if I practice here with weapons?”
Xie Miao’er didn’t understand what he meant. “Why would I mind?”
Lu Huaihai tossed the long stick in his hand to the side. It landed perfectly upright, embedded in the soil of the small flower bed.
“That’s good, then,” he said. “I’ll be coming here often.”
Xie Miao’er still didn’t understand what he meant, but she had the good habit of asking questions when confused. “Do you mean you’ll practice martial arts here in my courtyard?”
The courtyard was so small that even watching from behind the window made her cautious. How could he have enough space to practice?
Lu Huaihai remained silent for a moment.
His father, Lu Paizhang, was a steady and cautious man. As a result, Lu Huaihai was the only surviving male of his generation in the Lu family.
Lu Paizhang wasn’t afraid of his son being unaccomplished. After all, the family held a hereditary Qianhu position, ensuring a stable livelihood as long as he didn’t break the law.
What Lu Paizhang feared most was his son being too ambitious. He went to great lengths to stop him from practicing martial arts or pursuing scholarly examinations, terrified that Lu Huaihai would follow the same path that led other family members to die on the battlefield.
Lu Huaihai understood that his family had earned their merits defending Yansui and fighting the Tatars, only to end up worse off. Their political patron had fallen from power, and they were relocated far from their homeland, ending up here.
This was a sore spot for the Lu family.
But to ask a young boy to abandon his skills and live a mundane life with no prospects was crueler than killing him outright.
Lu Huaihai rebelled, but Lu Paizhang issued strict orders banning weapons from the house. Every time Lu Huaihai brought one home, his father would destroy it.
Thus, a perfectly good father and son had become bitter adversaries.
Xie Miao’er wasn’t good at reading people’s emotions, but Lu Huaihai’s displeasure was so evident that even she could see it.
Hurriedly, she said, “I’m sorry. If you think my question was too abrupt, you don’t need to answer.”
Lu Huaihai snapped out of his thoughts, the corners of his lips curling into a faint smirk—though it was unclear whether he was mocking her or himself.
Skipping the unnecessary details, he said directly, “You saw what happened yesterday. My father forbids me from practicing martial arts. I disagree. He won’t come here, so this place is convenient for me.”
Although Lu Huaihai had countless ways to deal with his father, the constant battle of wits and wills was exhausting.
Now that he had found a safe haven to save himself the trouble, why not take advantage of it?
Since he planned to use her courtyard, it didn’t hurt to explain things clearly. So he did.
So that’s the reason. After thinking about it briefly, Xie Miao’er understood.
Biographies had, of course, never recorded such trivial family conflicts about the Lu household. Previously, the most she’d gleaned from anecdotes and rumors was that Lu Huaihai didn’t have a harmonious relationship with his family. But she never knew why.
Xie Miao’er was deeply surprised.
The Lu family were military households, and Lu Huaihai was exceptionally gifted. Yet his father actually forbade him from practicing martial arts.
“I understand,” Xie Miao’er said, clenching her fists slightly.
There wasn’t much she could do now, but if she could help him in small matters like this, she certainly wouldn’t refuse.
Seeing her serious expression, with her delicate cheeks tinged with a soft blush, she looked incredibly charming. The faint gloom lingering in Lu Huaihai’s heart quietly dissipated. He barely resisted the urge to glance at her again, withdrawing his gaze and lazily casting it toward the courtyard gate.
Standing at the gate was Zhengya, a maid serving his mother, Madam Su. Upon seeing Lu Huaihai and Xie Miao’er seemingly exchanging a “tender, affectionate gaze,” Zhengya was momentarily at a loss, unsure whether to enter or retreat.
Lu Huaihai seized the initiative and asked, “What’s the matter?”
Zhengya curtseyed and replied, “Good morning, Young Master. Madam wishes to invite Concubine Xie over.”
Zhengya thought to herself: this Xie Mistress is just a concubine. Whether serving her mother-in-law or paying her respects, such duties shouldn’t fall to her. If not for the fact that the young master truly stayed here last night…
Lu Huaihai, being a man, didn’t notice anything amiss.
Xie Miao’er, even more so, was completely clueless about the workings of the inner courtyard.
Since an elder had summoned her, she would simply go. Without hesitation, she agreed and followed Zhengya out of the courtyard.
—
Footnotes:
- Qianhu(千户): A hereditary military position during the Ming dynasty, roughly equivalent to the commander of a thousand households.
- Commandant Assistant(指挥佥事): A fourth-rank military official, subordinate to the commandant in charge of regional garrisons.
- Zu Ti (祖逖): A famous general during the Jin dynasty, known for his diligence. The idiom “practice swordsmanship at the crow of the rooster” (闻鸡起舞) originates from him, as he reportedly trained tirelessly at dawn upon hearing roosters crowing.