Lu Hong tossed her water sleeves into the air, spinning them in a not-so-elegant circle that included herself. But her little trick was enough to amuse children. Xie Miao’er and Lu Baozhu clapped their hands enthusiastically.
Lu Hong’s smile had barely stretched halfway before it collapsed.
Xie Miao’er, puzzled, followed her gaze to see what had caused this shift. Turning her head, she saw Lu Huaihai leap down from the top of the wall.
Lu Hong quickly yanked off her theatrical robe, rolled it into a bundle, and hid it behind her back as if nothing had happened. She greeted him nonchalantly, “Big Brother.”
“The theater is open now, is it?” Lu Huaihai said flatly, though his eyes weren’t on Lu Hong. Instead, they were fixed on Xie Miao’er and Lu Baozhu holding hands.
Back during that unexpected incident, Lu Huaihai was still the kind of brother who couldn’t refuse his younger sister’s incessant pestering, even helping her sneak out to see the lantern festival. Among his cousins, Lu Hong had a more lively personality and was once quite familiar with him. But after the incident, Lu Huaihai grew distant and colder, and whatever affection between the siblings had long turned into mere memories.
Lu Hong respected this elder brother, only a few years her senior, but she also feared him a little.
Her respect wasn’t because of any extraordinary talent he had, but because he dared to go against the family. And judging from the current situation, he had succeeded.
Lu Hong admired him and even once considered seeking his advice.
However, their sibling bond was too thin, and now Lu Huaihai already carried the air of an elder. She only dared to fantasize about asking him in her mind. With her hands behind her back, she took a step back and muttered softly, “It’s just for fun, Big Brother. Please don’t tell Mother.”
Performing opera was considered a low-class profession at the time.
Lu Huaihai finally cast her a sidelong glance. “Are you still going to sing?”
Lu Hong shook her head furiously. “No, no more singing.”
“Do you need me to escort you?”
Lu Hong understood immediately that he found her presence an eyesore and slipped away without hesitation.
As she left, she made sure to place the theatrical robe on the windowsill and exchanged a stealthy glance with Xie Miao’er.
Xie Miao’er understood and nodded, but when she realized Lu Huaihai was watching her little gesture with great interest, she felt embarrassed. She rubbed her face and said, “Young Master, you came back quite early today.”
When she got embarrassed, she would purse her lips into a smile. And when she smiled like that, two shallow dimples would appear on her cheeks.
Seeing this, Lu Huaihai didn’t say much. He merely hummed in acknowledgment and handed her a box of butter pine cakes.
Xie Miao’er carried the pine cakes and the theatrical robe back into the house, with Lu Baozhu trailing behind her like a little tail.
But Lu Baozhu remained curious about Lu Huaihai, frequently sneaking glances at this man who shared her bloodline.
Xie Miao’er noticed and gently held Lu Baozhu’s pinky finger, whispering softly, “Do you know who he is?”
Lu Baozhu shook her head for a while but then nodded hesitantly.
Xie Miao’er didn’t press her, only saying, “He’s your elder brother. I’ll walk you back with him, all right?”
Lu Baozhu tugged Xie Miao’er’s hand as if to say, “Okay.”
Lu Huaihai was well aware that Xie Miao’er was trying to help him resolve his inner turmoil. Together, they escorted Lu Baozhu back to the East Garden.
On the way back, perhaps fearing he would be upset, Xie Miao’er said, “Young Master, don’t be sad. Baozhu is already much better than she was before. One day, she’ll fully recover and recognize who you are.”
Back then, the maidservant who was supposed to care for Lu Baozhu had spent several days hyping up how fun the lantern festival would be. It piqued her interest, prompting her to plead with Lu Huaihai to sneak her out. But that maidservant had taken bribes from kidnappers, not only encouraging her but also tailing her to give directions to the criminals, allowing them to succeed in their plot.
After being rescued, the more familiar the people around Lu Baozhu became, the more uneasy she felt.
Moreover, since those bandits were all men from a foreign tribe, any man—whether her father or brother—became unrecognizable to Lu Baozhu. Upon seeing them, she would let out a panicked scream. At her worst during the early days, even the maids caring for her had to wear bright red dresses and apply thick layers of powder so she could recognize them as women, calming her frenzy to a certain degree.
Putting herself in someone else’s shoes, Xie Miao’er thought that if she had a younger sister she had once treated very well, only for that sister to no longer recognize her after experiencing trauma, she would surely feel heartbroken.
But Lu Huaihai said, “It’s a good thing she doesn’t remember.”
Xie Miao’er stayed silent for a moment.
What he said wasn’t wrong. Forgetting was her way of protecting herself.
Lu Huaihai remained expressionless and added, “You’re very popular with young girls.”
Having returned this time, he could sense a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the family—though it was undoubtedly moving in a better direction.
His teasing was always delivered with a straight face. Xie Miao’er didn’t catch on this time either, instinctively replying, “Aren’t you the same?”
One, two…
Lu Huaihai silently counted in his heart to see how long it would take for her to realize the ambiguous implication of her words.
This time, it wasn’t too bad. Before he reached three, she hurriedly clarified, “What I meant was, both of you siblings are the same. She probably just comes to me because the First Madam can’t keep an eye on her here.”
Lu Huaihai neither confirmed nor denied her statement, merely saying, “Lu Hong has many bad habits. Don’t learn from her.”
Xie Miao’er retorted, “The eldest miss is quite a good person.”
Thanks to Baizhuan Chuang, a master of social networking, Xie Miao’er had recently pieced together many of the major and minor events that had taken place within the Lu family, both openly and in secret.
Among the other two girls in the Lu family, one was named Tanzhu and the other Baozhu. In comparison, Lu Hong’s name seemed particularly unique. This was because from the day she was born, she had been raised as a boy, and even her name was chosen to suit a son.
Back then, the head of the family was still the Old Madam, and her husband, Lu Zhenmou, was also alive.
When their eldest son, Lu Shengwen, passed away, Madam Chen of the Mai family was already pregnant. The entire family kept it from her, but eventually, she found out just before giving birth ten months later.
This First Madam, Madam Chen, was an extraordinary person. Though she was utterly heartbroken, her grief didn’t stop her from considering more practical matters.
After marrying into the Lu family, all she wanted was the status of the legitimate eldest daughter-in-law.
Now that her husband had passed away, if the child in her womb wasn’t a son, then whether it was the hereditary position of the qianhu (thousand-household leader) or anything else, none of it would fall to her branch of the family.
She lied, claiming she had given birth to a son, and managed to keep the truth hidden until Lu Hong was six years old.
During that time, Lu Hong had always believed herself to be a boy, and Lu Huaihai treated her as a younger brother.
Even after reverting to being a girl, Lu Hong retained the habits of a boy, though these days she had become a bit more restrained.
Sneaking around to mimic an opera singer and singing a few lines was nothing compared to Lu Hong’s past “great achievements.”
Lu Huaihai briefly considered reminding Xie Miao’er of this, but when he saw the clarity in her eyes, he figured that since she had been in the Lu family for quite some time, Lu Hong’s story was likely no longer a secret to her. So he simply said, “You should use your own judgment.”
Xie Miao’er nodded. “I understand. Let’s go back quickly. The butter pine cakes should be eaten while they’re hot.”
It turned out she had been thinking about the cakes this whole time. A fleeting smile flashed in Lu Huaihai’s eyes, and he replied warmly, “Alright.”
As they walked, Xie Miao’er pestered him, “Shaoye, how did today’s training at the drill grounds go? Was it smooth? Did you come in first?”
Before he could respond, she had already answered for him, “Wait, no need to ask! You must have been the best…”
—
The butter pine cakes were still warm, and paired with simple tea, they tasted far better than that evening’s dinner.
After eating and drinking his fill, Lu Huaihai asked Xie Miao’er, “Do you have plans tomorrow?”
Xie Miao’er replied, “Tomorrow’s free. Why do you ask, Shaoye?”
She seemed to have completely forgotten.
Lu Huaihai toyed with a small knife, the blade flipping deftly between his fingers, though his attention wasn’t on it at all. “Didn’t you say before that when I came back, I should take you to see what the sea looks like?”
Xie Miao’er was stunned, then overjoyed. “Yes, of course!”
That day, it had been a casual remark from her as they chatted, something she mentioned she’d like to do. She hadn’t expected him to remember.
Lu Huaihai thought to himself that this wasn’t really the best season to visit the seaside. But if he delayed any longer, he would have to head to the capital after the new year, and by the time he returned, he would officially hold an official post, with even more entanglements tying him down.
He valued his promises and didn’t want to delay their agreement. What was said must be done.
“I’ll have a break tomorrow. We’ll make it a quick trip.”
“Shaoye, are we taking a carriage?”
“No need,” he replied. “Riding horses will be faster. We’ll head straight to Taonu.”
Xie Miao’er was confused. “But I don’t know how to ride a horse.”
She hadn’t even touched a horse’s tail before.
“I’ll take you on my horse.”
Hearing Lu Huaihai’s confident tone, Xie Miao’er became even more excited.
How wonderful! Tomorrow she’d get to try something she’d never done before!
Seeing her excitement, Lu Huaihai’s lips curved slightly, but in the end, he maintained a straight face and said, “You’re getting happy too early. Be careful you don’t get up late tomorrow.”
But Xie Miao’er wasn’t listening to him anymore. She had already grabbed a little maid and gone off to rummage through her boxes, looking for her brightest and fluffiest clothes.
Lu Huaihai didn’t say a word, using the act of lifting his teacup to conceal the smile on his lips.
—
The next morning .
Xie Miao’er styled her hair into a simple double spiral bun, decorating it with only a silk flower. She wore a neat riding outfit, complete with leg bindings and a pair of small leather boots. Over it, she wrapped herself in a bright red cloak with a white collar.
In her hands, she held a fluffy hand warmer.
She pulled up the hood of her cloak, tucked her chin into it, and left only her eyes visible.
Lu Huaihai looked her over and asked, “When did you prepare these clothes?”
Xie Miao’er proudly tilted her chin. “I’m the manager of a fabric shop. Of course, I can get my hands on seasonal fabrics whenever I want. This material is crisp and sturdy—not suitable for dresses—so I had it tailored into riding clothes instead.”
She began chattering on, analyzing the differences between silk, gauze, and satin. Rarely losing his composure, Lu Huaihai eventually conceded with a smile and said, “Let’s go.”
But Xie Miao’er stopped him. “Wait! There’s one more thing to do!”
Lu Huaihai paused and looked at her.
Xie Miao’er grabbed a small blue-and-white porcelain jar from her dressing table, scooped out some cream with her finger, and spread it on her own cheeks.
When she finished, she handed the jar to Lu Huaihai. “Here, you haven’t applied any cream yet.”
A faint fragrance drifted to Lu Huaihai’s nose. Instinctively resistant to such “feminine” things, he turned his face away. “No need.”
Just as he turned, Xie Miao’er, quick as lightning, scooped up another dollop and smeared it across his face.
The next moment, she innocently blinked at him and said, “It’s windy in the morning when riding. It’ll chafe your skin if you don’t protect it.”
She spoke with great conviction. “Young Master, this is my way of repaying you. Thank you for helping me redeem my fabric shop.”
Lu Huaihai didn’t see how applying cream to his face was connected to her fabric shop. Fortunately, the cream had only a faint scent, so he didn’t mind too much. Resigned, he spread it evenly over his face and quipped, “What kind of favor are you repaying, and what peach did you offer in return?” (The phrase “投桃报李” literally means “to give a peach in return for a plum” and refers to reciprocating kindness.)
Xie Miao’er counted on her fingers and explained, “This cream was bought with money I earned from the fabric shop!”
Lu Huaihai paused and said, “That’s a pretty small peach.”
Xie Miao’er, still in high spirits since last night, grinned and tugged on his sleeve. “Then, when I earn big money in the future, I’ll buy you a whole cartload of cream. You can use it until you’re a hundred years old—how about that?”
In her heart, she silently added: So, General Lu, you have to live a long and healthy life.
Her words sounded playful, but when Lu Huaihai imagined the scene of countless jars of cream piled into a small mountain before him, he thought to himself it might be better to pass on that offer.
Since the hour was getting late, the two didn’t dawdle any further and headed out.
Lu Huaihai had already sent someone to prepare a fine horse, which was waiting by the gate.
It was a tall, strong chestnut horse with a glossy coat.
Xie Miao’er suddenly felt that her red cloak and the horse’s coloring had a certain harmony.
The horse looked as if one stomp of its hoof could send her flying. Xie Miao’er hesitated nervously, but by the time she made up her mind, Lu Huaihai had already mounted the horse.
With a steady stance, he placed one foot in the stirrup, leaned his upper body toward her, and extended his hand, signaling for her to grab hold.
Gritting her teeth, Xie Miao’er placed her hand in his. In one swift motion, he pulled her up, secured her by the waist, and seated her in front of him.
The sudden loss of contact with the ground made Xie Miao’er instinctively brace herself against the horse’s back to steady her posture. Nervously clutching the horse’s mane, she caused it to snort and neigh in dissatisfaction.
A voice, tinged with mild discontent, came from behind her: “What’s this? You trust the horse more than me?”
Xie Miao’er’s neck tingled inexplicably, and she instinctively loosened her grip on the horse’s mane, leaning toward him instead.
Lu Huaihai loosened his cloak and carefully wrapped her within it, pulling her securely into his arms. “Sit tight—”
The cold wind howled past, but Xie Miao’er didn’t feel cold at all. His warm breath had enveloped her completely.
Within that warmth, she caught a faintly familiar, refreshing scent.
In a daze, Xie Miao’er looked up at his jawline.
She suddenly realized—it was the scent of her face cream.
How strange… It felt as though his breath and hers had shattered and merged together, indistinguishable from one another.
Her cheeks flushed crimson, and she buried herself in his cloak, not daring to lift her head for fear of him noticing.
Sensing her slight movements, Lu Huaihai assumed she was feeling too cold. He freed one hand and held her even tighter against him.
Softly, he said, “So delicate.”
“I’m not delicate,” Xie Miao’er mumbled in protest, her voice muffled by the thick fabric of the cloak.
At that moment, the scenery they had come to see—the blue expanse where sea and sky met—suddenly didn’t seem so important to Xie Miao’er anymore.
Seeing her lips slightly parted as if she wanted to say something, Lu Huaihai asked, “What are you thinking about?”
Xie Miao’er was thinking that she would always remember this day.
The day he fulfilled a casual wish she had voiced, galloping through the wind just for her.
She turned her head to look at him.
Though they couldn’t get too close to the sea, they managed to find a vantage point atop a nearby watchtower. From there, they could glimpse the vastness of the ocean.
The wind here was fierce, carrying with it a salty tang unfamiliar to her—a sharp contrast to the dreamlike scenes of the ocean she had once imagined through his perspective.
The wild wind tossed the stray strands of hair across his forehead, creating a scene so beautiful it felt almost unreal, like a fleeting dream.
Xie Miao’er stared at him, entranced.
Even if it were a dream, she wanted to keep him in it forever.
She didn’t answer for a long time, prompting Lu Huaihai to wave his hand in front of her face. “Xie Miao.”
Snapping out of her daze, Xie Miao’er smiled and responded, “Hmm?”
Relieved, Lu Huaihai asked, “Have you seen enough of the sea?”
Turning back to gaze at the boundless expanse where the sky met the ocean, Xie Miao’er thought about how the poetic descriptions and paintings of scholars throughout history paled in comparison to the awe of witnessing it in person.
She hadn’t seen enough.
Her world had always been confined to its four corners: from her bedroom to the hall, from the hall to the main chamber. The few hundred steps she could take had been the entirety of her world.
Her ability to see the heavens and earth was so limited.
How could she ever see enough?
Xie Miao’er realized how greedy she had become. Originally, she thought that just catching a glimpse of the vast sea would be enough to satisfy her. But after truly seeing it, her longing didn’t subside; instead, it grew even more intense.
If there had been a great ship in front of her at that moment, ready to carry her to the other side of the sea, she was certain she would have leapt aboard without hesitation.
The thought startled Xie Miao’er, making her jump at how grandiose and extravagant her imagination had become.
But she didn’t suppress her desires. She allowed this delicate seed of a thought to take root and begin to sprout in her heart.
After all, just earlier today, she had never even imagined she’d have the chance to see the sea.
To be honest, Lu Huaihai didn’t understand what was so fascinating about the sea, nor could he guess what she was thinking. Yet he waited patiently for her, standing by until she finally turned around and said, “Let’s go back.”
The wind seemed gentler on the return journey.
Amid the vast and dusty mortal world, atop the jostling horse, they seemed more like true lovers than even those who were already lovers.