Chapter 89: Dreaming nine times of the lord for ten nights in the pavilion (XIV)

Li Shiyi led Song Shijiu back inside; from the small stove, she picked up a pot of hot water, and steeped a cup of Lu'an tea for her, then prepared water for washing the face at just the right temperature. Song Shijiu took the cloth which Li Shiyi had wrung out, and lowered her face into the humid water vapour, breathing in deeply, and heart the sound of Li Shiyi putting books in order.

Li Shiyi tidied up the messy letters, each one put in order, pressed between book covers; the sound of the letter paper seemed to bring the scent of ink, enough that it could comfort the returners who were exhausted from their journey.

Only then did Song Shijiu have a feeling of "having returned"; it steadily and steadfastly became concrete in Li Shiyi's motions, causing her sensation of having drifted for a great many years to dispel bit by bit.

Having turned over another leaf, she heard Li Shiyi ask her, "Since you've remembered, what would you say about Zhu Yan?"

Song Shijiu placed the towel on the wooden shelf, and turned around, leaning against the side, her hands supporting each sides of her face, and blinked her eyes. "Thinking over it carefully, being a pig isn't bad either. In the chaos of the current political situation, with the soaring prices of grain and meat, it's not cheap." She spoke earnestly, yet the smiling expression in her eyes was made up very slyly, such that she even uhurriedly raised her brows, looking into Li Shiyi's eyes.

Li Shiyi released her pursed lips, and shook her head, laughing.

She'd finally laughed; the laugh was both calm and clear, and even like the most romantic gathering and dispelling of clouds in Song Shijiu's heart. Song Shijiu looked at her serenely, and walked to the table, sitting across from her, between them a steaming hot cup of tea; she propped herself up on her hand, separated by the scent of the tea, and gazed at her, saying, "Just now, before I spoke, you were afraid."

She'd used a declarative sentence, and didn't at all need Li Shiyi's response. What followed immediately after was only a sentence: "Afraid of what?"

The fragrance of the tea smudged Li Shiyi's features with dampness, like a fruit which had been held in the mouth by tender sentiments and honeyed intentions; Song Shijiu whetted her lower lip, not at all aware of the amount of eroticism of her own actions. She only raised her gaze, and said unhurriedly, "I've only recalled my memories. Could it be that, tomorrow, when you have your memories, you won't want me?" Her tone was still tender and soft, like a sweet fruit wine which came down the throat; listening to it was sweet, and then listening to it again, one became intoxicated. Li Shiyi began to feel belated seduction, slowly pulling apart a heavy curtain.

Yet the words of the person across from here were decent to the highest degree; she lowered her voice, and said, "You've been worried; it ought to be my turn."

She didn't know whether the Ling Heng of before, who wouldn't look on her, when speaking, had the hint of tenderness that Li Shiyi did. Song Shijiu lowered her head, her fingers following the teacup to draw a circle. "I've already planned it. Today, I'll spend with you, entirely without any grudging; someday, as long as you have a bit of hesitance towards me, your heart will feel ashamed. This is a scheme which you'd never taught me; I'll only use it to handle you." She bit her lip, her liquid eyes flashing, half innocent and half haughtly, half Li Shiyi's beloved woman, half a robber who was returning to raise banners and strike drums. What she wanted to plunder was Li Shiyi's love, which wasn't in the slightest held back, and today was the first sound of the battle drums, showing their true colours.

The battle drums struck against Li Shiyi's heart, booming and rumbling, like the prelude of the a spring rain's strike, rolling and rumbling from the horizon, roiling with sudden claps of thunder, and then the patter of rain falling. It fell, hiding the heavens and covering the earth, nourishing each and every thirsting creature. Li Shiyi said, "Yes, I am afraid."

When Song Shijiu had opened, she was afraid, fearing that the her before her was no longer the her of before. When the Henggongyu had spoken of the passion-causing nectar, she'd been afraid, fearing that the passion, its origin unknown, had a preposterous cause. When A Luo had spoken of Meng Po's soup, she'd been afraid, fearing that Song Shiju's entirely forgotten past had something carved into her bones and engraved in her heart which ought not to have been forgotten. She'd thought of countless possibilities which were tormenting her, but they hadn't been.

From the time she was a child, she wasn't someone who wandered; when her mother had sold her to her shifu, she'd only said it was learning a trade, and it was only after a month that she understood that her parents' words of coming to see her were false. She and her shifu had relied on each other for their lives, studying and learning tricks of the trade; when she'd opened a coffin for the first time, and felt the golden hoops on the bones of the dead, she'd been so startled her calves had trembled, and only then had she realised what work she was meant to do every day. It was the work of dead people, the work of dead people which, damaging her virtue, would bring the wrath of the heavens. Even later, each time she narrowly escaped death, she'd always made the very worst calculations; if she could bring back a single life, she felt that that counted as fortune.

But Song Shijiu had told her, the two characters of "fortune" weren't only as small as "survival"; it could be very, very big, could be much, much more. With each time she'd crawled out of the pile of the dead, and looked at Song Shijiu with an expression like seeing the light again, that was the most weak kind, and the most solid kind.

Song Shijiu had been disturbed greatly by her expression, and she lowered her voice, asking gently, "The memories of the past are memories; aren't the memories of our acquaintance memories? Who said they need to be placed on a weight and be weighed? I didn't. The affairs of life change irregularly; the sate of the mind is myriad. If the me of the past isn't the me of now, is the me of tomorrow the me of today? The me of this shichen, is it the me of next shichen? The one who is in your heart, which me is it?

"In the past, you said, what was planted yesterday dies yesterday; what is planted today lives today. You are the one who knows most thoroughly, the most intelligent; how is it that, now, you're looking forward and back, afraid of the head and terrified of the tail?"

In a single row, she threw out a number of questions, tossed such that Li Shiyi's brows furrowed slightly; once more, she was mute and unable to reply, seeming to vaguely remember this was the third time. Last time, she'd questioned herself why she couldn't like her, and the time before that, it seemed as if it were on an bustling yet empty street, a young master who was spitting with anger, raising the chin to dispute with her Zhu Yan's guilt.

Only then did Song Shijiu tenderly close her lips, and only after a long while, did she say, "See. The previous incarnation, and in this life, you couldn't persuade me. And in this life, and the previous incarnation, I couldn't beat you in a fight either. Therefore, there are some matters which are decreed by fate. As for what can be altered at will, come to think of it, they're also insignificant."

The tea had grown cold, the steam also having dispersed; Song Shijiu's face was clear and bright, and, swaying in the candlelight, it shone. She said, "There's an insignificant matter, which, at this moment, I want to alter."

Li Shiyi's heart thundered; she had a subtle premonition, as if someone were tugging at the bottom of her heart, lightly pulling at it, and in the next moment, once more gently soothing it. Song Shijiu reached a hand out to her, pressing her lips together. "Come over here."

Li Shiyi was hesitant for an instant, then walked before her; then, her wrist was grabbed, and she sat across Song Shijiu's legs. Song Shijiu wrapped around her, and saw her doubtfully raise a brow, and only then pressed her lips, which gave off a fragrance, against the birthmark on Li Shiyi's neck. The tip of her nose brushed against her neck, and her voice was low, as if murmuring. "I want you."

She wanted Li Shiyi; she wanted Ling Heng.

She drew back slightly, her eyes filled with an eroticism, and she gazed at Li Shiyi with this expression like intoxication without being intoxicated, and asked her, "Is that alright?"

Li Shiyi's breathing became slightly disorderly in a flash; however, she only aloofly hid her flush behind her ears, her face still clear and cool, and she looked Song Shijiu over from top to bottom, her right hand supported on her shoulder. She said, "And then what?"

"And then, I'll ask you to apologise humbly," Song Shijiu said, catching Li Shiyi's wrist.

"How will I appologise?" Li Shiyi's expression was about to melt.

"I hope you will gather a few more."

The most emotionally moving words were called yearning; the three characters spoken were "I want you". I want you when you're writing, I want you when you're painting; I want you when waking, I want you before sleeping; I want to the entirety of your body and your time; I want to be the one which is your emotional superior, and the one who kneels and bows to your thoughts.

She wanted all the positions she'd imagined and all the ones she hadn't dared to think of with Li Shiyi. She also wanted to give the seal she'd never before offered up, use it a different way to to engrave on the warmest, wettest place.

She had taken her as the love which contented her heart, and then as an endless, wonderful dream.

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