Chapter 87: Dreaming nine times of the lord for ten nights in the pavilion (XII)

Originally, A Yin had assumed Li Shiyi was finally about to become panicked, but in the end, Li Shiyi wasn't equal to her expectation, and only tranquilly listened to the Henggongyu and A Luo's narration, and put away her smoking pipe, removed her gloves, and, thinking over it, undid her loose braid; her gaze lowered, her fingers within the threads of her hair, she smoothed her hair behind her head, and, expression going wooden, calmly breathed a couple times, and only after than rose, descending the mountain to go back home as usual.

The dusky yellow night lanterns in the alley drew people's shadows extremely long; the neighbouring A Huang snored softly; if it weren't for the fact of Li Shiyi's singular shadow, then it could entirely be counted as a fine, warm winter.

Li Shiyi didn't make a sound, and pushed the door open, entering, heading directly upstairs. A Yin, arms crossed, leaned against the side of the door, keeping up heavy eyelids, heard the patter of water come from upstairs.

—she unexpectedly has the inclination to shower. A Yin raised her brows towards A Luo, the sound of a disbelieving click of her tongue within her mouth.

A Luo's thoughts were wandering somewhat; her gaze, laden with worries, swept over the staircase, and then, tiredly, she lowered her head. She'd always wanted to see Song Shijiu as an ordinary woman, and didn't want to think about whether, as the god of Mount Zhongshan, Jiu-daren, in the end, would fret about this small matter of changing clothes.

A Luo once more gazed at the pitch-black corridor, and sat down at the playing table along with A Yin. The people had sat down, yet they didn't have any interest in playing; A Yin propped up her cheek and laid her arm horizontally, and turned a few tiles around in her hand slowly; her gaze fluttered from the kerosene lamp, and quietly looked out the window, and then fluttered back to continue looking at the kerosene lamp.

The flame burst with a crackle, and caused her fuzzy, indistinct gaze to sway and awaken; she shook her head and stood, saying to A Luo, "Where are the scissors? I'll trim the candlewicks."

A man's sound came from the stairs: "Under the small table, in the sewing basket."

A Yin looked towards Wu Qian. "You've gotten up now?"

Wu Qian nodded. "It's the middle of yinshi."

A Yin gazed dizzily out the window; the skies had, truly brightened faintly, and the coal basin within the room was burning brightly; the inside of the window had formed a layer of hoarfrost. She took the scissors and returned to wipe away the frost, and her lips twitched, yet she hadn't thought of anything to say.

The stairs made a groaning sound; distractedly, she turned her head, and saw Li Shiyi.

Li Shiyi had changed into a household gown, and her hair, not yet completely dried, had been put to one side; her features were as if covered by a layer of frost, and a faint pallor shone through. As she adjusted her sleeves, she headed for the playing table, and, casting a glance, asked, "Are you playing?"

The three looked at her all at once; she drew a minute breath, the final sound wet, as if having been soaked in water for an entire night. She stood with a physique a a pine or bamboo's height, and, lowering her head, fiddled with the tiles as she wished; only after no one replied for quite a while did she once more raise her head and inquired with a hum.

Wu Qian looked at A Luo; A Luo looked at A Yin; A Yin gazed at Li Shiyi, and, unexpectedly, scoffed a couple chilly laughs, and, with a "hua-la," she moved a stool with her leg. "Play."

Playing and playing; if the emperor wasn't worried, then the eunuchs would be; in her heart, a nameless flame rose, and the veins in her temples, after waiting half a night, throbbed. Li Shiyi acted as if she couldn't see it all; she hooked up the stool by her foot, and sat down with a straight back.

The motion of drawing the stool over had just finished, when suddenly, the sound of a sickly woman sounded by her ear, the owner's voice lovably nestled in her hand, saying—"At that time, I thought, waiting until I could speak, I had to ask you, Li Shiyi, your stool is just for decoration, isn't it? But when I could truly speak, I forgot it."

Li Shiyi stroked the uneven, notched surface of the tiles, and began to be dazed.

A Yin waited for a while without movement; she was just about to open her mouth and impatiently urge her on, yet when she raised her gaze, deep wrinkles had piled up on the body of Li Shiyi's fingers stroking the tiles, as if dessication caused by soaking too long in the water; she gazed at Li Shiyi's paling wrist, and then held back the words which had been able to come out within her mouth. She cleared her throat, pondering a while, and then finally softened her voice. "If you couldn't bear to part, why didn't you pursue? That fish just then said that it was all a misunderstanding, and there wasn't the slightest bit of deep enmity or great hatred; what sort of pretension are you putting on at this moment, then?"

Li Shiyi didn't speak, focusing her attention on stacking the tiles.

With Fujun playing, Wu Qian had no choice but to play as well; so, he braced himself, and and threw the dice; when he'd just started to draw tiles, A Luo wordlessly followed closely behind; passing over Li Shiyi, it finally came to A Yin, with lovely raised brows. She sat askew, looking at Li Shiyi for a long while, and then tossed in a tile as if venting her anger. Rolling and spinning, they came to the side of Li Shiyi's hand.

Li Shiyi seemed to have not felt it, and, pressing her lips together, looked at the surface of the tiles; then a die was dropped on the back of her hand, and she paused, only then speaking. "A Yin." She raised her head and looked directly at A Yin, slowly and seriously saying, "She grew from childhood to adulthood with us."

Her expression was exhausted, yet carried a minute amount of stubborn persistence; she'd only spoken half a phrase, when she turned over the tiles in her hand, and then changed the topic. "This set of tiles, originally had many different ways of winning; I often reminded her, causing her playing style to be the same as mine."

A Yin thought of playing mahjong with Song Shijiu then; Li Shiyi had passed by behind, taking one out, light as a feather, and throwing it, and then speaking by Song Shijiu's ear—"Place this, and this, and this one, remember it." Then, her eyes had had the gentle tenderness of a spring breeze; now, within her gaze was a night's condensed winter frost.

Li Shiyi's sighing sound fell by A Yin's heart, and she asked, "Do you understand?"

A Yin had spoken incredibly correctly; there wasn't any deep enmity or great hatred, but it was precisely because there wasn't any deep enmity or great hatred that she could convince herself to calm her heart, and give time to Song Shijiu.

Regardless of her intent, Song Shijiu had been taught to be lovable and cute by her; but was this her original nature or not? Now that her awareness of her godhood had awakened, she ought to have the opportunity for deciding and choosing entirely of herself.

If, now, she were to once more hold a hand of tiles, would she arrange them the way that she had that day?

A Luo, hearing this, understood; it was just that she was somewhat absent-minded; Li Shiyi had unexpectedly placed herself in the position of having been chosen, such that she'd sensed a bit of what could be called a "humble" attitude.

Finally, Li Shiyii gazed at the playing table, and said in a low tone, "She'll return."

A Yin furrowed her brows. "The, what if she doesn't return?"

Li Shiyi arranged the tiles in her hand, and laughed softly. "Then that probably means, I'm not, in fact, anything significant."

Because of these words, A Yin's heart jumped, as if a ball cactus which had been rolled about, and a fine, tiny ache rose; why it was hurting, she wouldn't be able to say; perhaps it was because she had never before thought of it, that this desolate expression would, one day, actually appear on Li Shiyi's face, her lashes casting shadows beneath her eyes, like blemishes on thin porcelain, sudden and causing one to feel unwell.

Another few days later, Li Shiyi was eating well and sleeping well, reading and writing, as usual; she even went out every day to wander the streets half the day. At first, A Yin's heart had ached for her a bit; seeing her passing the days well, as gentle as the breeze and as light as clouds, she suspected that the contents of the conversation, that night at the playing table, had been a dream.

She extended a hand and stroked the neatly-piled, wave-like bun of hair; on her arms was a newly-made outer garment; this outer garment was one which, before, she'd gone with Song Shijiu to pick out the material for, and once it had been completed, she'd waited for the start of spring to wear it; she cast a glance at Shijiu's light, apricot-blossom pink upper garment, and a panic filled her mind, stoppering it.

She couldn't even sigh when the Zhao-daniang, who lived on the corner of the street, called out, "Yin-yaomei, you've bought new clothes, eh?"

The wooden gate was wide open, and Zhao-daniang sat on the rattan rocking chair within the courtyard, a thick, cotton-padded cushion placed behind her, a crow-black cotton hat on her head to protect from the wind.

"I did," A Yin said with a smile, calling out a greeting.

The pleasant-sohunding dialect was Zhao-daniang's favourite, and she looked for a couple more phrases to say. "What time will your Li-yaomei come? You ask, if it's going to be late, I'll leave then; Chen Mazi's family is slaughtering a pig, and having drinks."

Zhao-daniang's accent was very heavy, and she always turned "then" into "old"^[1]; A Yin only understood after discerning for a long while, yet she didn't fully understand, asking her, "What time will she come? Coming for what? What is she doing?" She raised the ends of her brows; she felt that this address of "Li-yaomei" was rather comical and amusing.

Zhao-daniang let out a "ya". "You don't know? She's always come these two days, bring a chair and following with me to learn making wontons." Saying it, it sounded strange; the Li's young lady was quite clever, yet she'd been learning this skill for a few days, as if she wanted to perfect what was already outstanding. And she didn't even take the wontons she'd made back with her, only saying to put them in the Zhao family's shop.

"Wontons?" A Yin was startled. Zhao-daniang's son had started a small noodle shop at the head of the street; Song Shijiu liked to eat from his shop the most, saying the wrappings were thin and the stuffing large, like plump ingots. When she'd said this, her cheeks had been stuffed, and A Yin had passed her handkerchief to her, laughing at her. "A miser, aren't you? Ingots can enter your stomach?"

Yet Song Shijiu had withdrawn her hands and cupped her cheeks, smiling broadly and denying it. "I'm not a miser; if I were an enthusiast, I'd only be enthusiastic about Shiyi."

A Yin's spirit returned, her smiling expression scattering in a flash, rigid and incredibly unpleasant to look at. She unconsciously gripped Song Shijiu's upper garment in her hand, and turned her icy-cold sleeves down, then turned them over again. She couldn't imagine what opener Li Shiyi, who had never liked dealing with people, had used when raising the topic of wanting to learn how to make wontons. Or was it that she'd lowered her neck slightly, playing her face in her palm, and wrapped up the unspoken expectations gently within?

Would Zhao-daniang, who loved gossip, ask her who it was who liked to eat this little thing so much, and caused her to come eagerly learn? And would she say Song Shijiu's name?

A Yin bid goodbye to Zhao-daniang, and slowly walked back; when she came to the courtyard gate, she raised her head, and saw Li Shiyi, just about to exit, standing in the setting sun, her lonely, quiet face not even having the surprise of an unexpected encounter. This face was both familiar and strange; her gaze unhurriedly lowered, falling on the light apricot blossom-pink outer garment in the crook of A Yin's arm.

The lid of the glass of water in her hand was open, and the curling heat was almost visible.

Only then did A Yin know that there were some people whose love wasn't noisy or bustling; even when panicked and beside themselves, it was always as peaceful as a cup of hot water held in the hands.

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Translator's notes:

[1]: This doesn't translate well into English; the raws say 总将“了”说成“老”, which speaks about her turning the particle 了 (le) into the word 老 (lao) due to her heavy accent.