CH 11

Xie Yilu arrived earlier than last time, standing apprehensively atop that grassy hill. Looking down, he saw that Liao Jixiang was already here, still dressed in that moon-white lanshan, his hair tied behind him with a red string that half hung at his shoulders. 

Liao Xijang was facing away from him, looking so thin and weak. Xie Yilu descended the hill lightly as if he were afraid to frighten a solitary bird. Although Liao Jixiang knew he was approaching, he did not turn around to look. When the sound of footsteps had reached him, he began to walk forwards along the flowing spring. 

His limp was very pronounced, and his shoulders were uneven as he walked. Xie Yilu wordlessly followed two or three steps behind him. Seeing him struggle so much to walk, a trace of pity rose in Xie Yilu’s heart. 

They had already entered the depths of the willow forest, but Liao Jixiang still wanted to continue. Xie Yilu felt a twinge of uneasiness, but suddenly, Liao Jixiang spoke without looking back: “It’s a little remote but the views are good.”

Half turning his head, the twist of his neck shifted his collar to reveal a little patch of snow-white skin. Backlit, his eyelashes appeared dense and feathery. Xie Yilu was just about to speak when their little path rounded a corner. A babbling brook flowed past his feet as the shadows of trees swayed and whirled. White sunlight peeked in through the gaps between the branches, falling onto the forest floor like thousands of scattered silver leaves.  

Xie Yilu was taken aback by this beautiful scene, by the lush green and the entangled branches. His eyes wandered all around  before settling once again on the figure of Liao Jixiang’s back. Even in such beautiful surroundings, that figure was still no less exquisite. “Do you… come here often?” he asked, eyes captivated by the ever-flowing dazzling streaks of light that dappled his back. “Just by yourself?”

Liao Jixiang did not turn to look at him. “This time every year,” his soft voice wavered in the wind, “by myself, or sometimes with someone else.” 

The faintly bitter fragrance of sandalwood wafted over once more, and Xie Yilu could not help but silently ask: who is that ‘someone else’?

All of a sudden, Liao Jixiang drew to a standstill. Unprepared for his sudden stop, Xie Yilu almost walked into his back. What he did not know was that Liao Jixiang had been gnawed at by trepidation the entire walk in anticipation of this stop. He turned around slowly, casting his nimble eyes in Xie Yilu’s direction. Yet as soon as they reached him, he immediately looked away again. “How should I… address you?” 

His voice was very quiet, like a feather tickling one’s ear. Xie Yilu was a little confused. Was this the grand chamberlain who looked down on him from theheights of the stone steps at Zhebo Chan Temple? Then, his face had been as cold as ice and he had ordered Ruan Dian to take Xie Yilu’s life as soon as he asked for his name. “Xie…” he blurted out, then stopped — Liao Jixiang already knew his name, so why was he asking again?

Silence reigned for a long time, long enough that Xie Yilu heard the sound of new branches sprouting, long enough that Xie Yilu suddenly understood his meaning. “Chunchu,” he said slowly. “Xie Chunchu.” 

It was only now that Liao Jixiang summoned his courage to look over. He was not very tall and had to look up slightly. “Yangchun,” he pursed his lips, the rustiness and nervousness in his voice suggesting that he very rarely uttered those two characters. “Liao Yangchun1.” 

With that, he turned back around and continued walking. He was still limping, but something was different this time — it seemed like they were not Xie Yilu and Liao Jixiang anymore, but rather Xie Chunchu and Liao Yangchun. They were simply two people, unburdened by ties or past history, calm and at ease in each other’s presence. “What copybook do you use to practise calligraphy?” Xie Yilu asked. 

“《Da Bao Zhen》.” Liao Jixiang’s answered very quickly, his tone coloured by a certain type of sincerity. He seemed to have seen something in the trees beside the path for he stopped and reached towards that direction. 

He had a pair of extremely pale and fine hands, so much so that it seemed like they would burn up in the sunlight. Xie Yilu’s gaze followed those nimble fingers as they climbed up a little tree laden with red fruits, wrapped around a branch and broke it off. Holding it in his hand, he placed the nameless fruits into his mouth and crushed them with his teeth like a girl cracking sunflower seeds. 

“You can’t experience this flavour in Beijing.” As he spoke, he searched around the branch and broke off another one, handing it to Xie Yilu. Xie Yilu looked at the branch as fragile as a little girl and reluctantly accepted it.

They walked one behind the other, no longer separated by two or three paces, but rather with Xie Yilu closely trailing Liao Jixiang’s steps. He fiddled with the branch of wild fruits, turning it over as he studied it. The more he looked, the more amazement he felt — neither mentioned the situation in Nanjing. It was as if the pygmy pear tears, Qi Wan, the Great Ancestor, and all the rest of their worries had no hold over this moment. 

Perhaps feeling hot from walking, Liao Jixiang took out a folding fan from his robe. Xie Yilu saw from his vantage behind him that one face was painted in the style of Ni Yunlin2, while the other featured cursive calligraphy. Back in Beijing, he had seen many powerful eunuchs who accompanied the emperor. Their fans were always painted with either blue-and-green landscapes, buildings and people, or palace-style flowers and birds in golden ink3. Compared to them, Liao Jixiang was more like a scholar. 

As he thought, he offhandedly picked off a few red fruits and placed them into his mouth. However, as soon as he bit down, his mouth was assaulted by their sourness. He immediately slapped a hand over his chin; he might never be able to forget that sour taste in his lifetime. 

“Sour?” Liao Jixiang looked over his shoulder at him and the sunlight scattered into innumerable star-like flecks that shone splendidly onto his face. Under its glow, his face seemed half-real, half-fantasy; only his peach-coloured lips appeared real as they curved into the smallest of smiles in the triangular shadow beneath his nose.

Xie Yilu felt his throat becoming itchy. He sucked on the sourness in his mouth, and the sourness suddenly turned into sweetness — a vivid sweetness and a sweetness that moved him to his core. He was lost in a daze when Liao Jixiang asked him “Are you twenty-five?” 

Xie Yilu did not reply. Liao Jixiang could feel the heat of the glance he cast toward himself which discomforted him. It was only when he awkwardly furled the corners of his lips that Xie Yilu realised he was acting impolitely. “Ah, what did you say?”

Liao Jixiang cautiously sized him up and after what appeared to be a moment of consideration, asked again, “Are you twenty-five?”

“I’m twenty-six already,” Xie Yilu tried to act as naturally as possible. “I was born in the first month.”  

Liao Jixiang turned back around. Xie Yilu could no longer see his expression and he felt like a cat was clawing at his chest. He heard Liao Jixiang ask again, “Are you married?” 

“Yes. My family is in Beijing.” Xie Yilu appeared forlorn at the mention of Beijing. “My humble household is managed by one person.” 

“You should bring her over.” There seemed to be a deeper meaning hidden beneath Liao Jixiang’s shallow words. “Or you…” 

He began the sentence but did not finish it. Xie Yilu strode two steps forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Inclining his head, he gazed at Liao Jixiang like an understanding friend. “Or what?”

Liao Jixiang was very shocked. It was clear from his evasive eyes that no one had dared to walk side by side with him for too long. Perhaps it was out of fear or perhaps out of disgust, but those people would always avoid him, leaving him alone at the heights. 

“Is your relationship alright?” Liao Jixiang asked. “How long between each letter?” 

There’re barely any letters, Xie Yilu thought. Even if there are, they’re no more than a sparse few words of instruction sent back with the silver that’s meant to support the family. 

“She doesn’t know how to read.” 

Liao Jixiang was silent for a moment. “Northern women are more homespun. It’s a bit better here. Most of them can discuss a few poems. If you…” he hesitated a little, “if you want, I can have them find you someone from a good family.” 

Did Liao Jixiang want to find a concubine for him? Xie Yilu was shocked, even put off, by the offer. Was this how eunuchs interacted? They were always thinking of ways to give someone favours like they were afraid that otherwise, no one would spare a single thought for them. “In your eyes,” he said bluntly, “am I someone who is so unable to tolerate being alone?” 

He was upset — Liao Jixiang had not expected this, so he remained silent. 

Xie Yilu added, “Do you think that I arranged to meet you because I’m also after something from you?” 

For someone as used to hearing flattery as Liao Jixiang, Xie Yilu’s words had crossed the line, and he could not keep from getting angry. “Don’t they say that men’s hearts only settle down once they have a woman?” His face hardened. “When everyone else arrives at Nanjing, the first thing they all do is buy a wife!” 

Xie Yilu hated this condescending and taken-for-granted attitude of his. As such, he impulsively shot back a mocking question that he really ought not to have: “You’ve been in Nanjing for a few years now. How many wives have you bought?” 

Liao Jixiang’s face froze in an instant. His eyebrows rose and the blood drained from his lips and cheeks, leaving only a pitiful whiteness behind. Xie Yilu realised in a split second that he was not a man — compared to men, he was missing just one little thing. 

He stared dumbly at Liao Jixiang, his face also blanching.

“I feared that you’d look down on me,” Liao Jixiang said miserably, feeling a thousand arrows pierce his heart. His voice was so soft, so soft that it was scattered into nothingness as soon as the wind blew. “It seems I was right. You do look down on me”

Xie Yilu saw those eyes of his grow hideous as they became bloodshot beneath their lids. He knew that Liao Jixiang was furious, but his shattered expression made him look more like he was on the verge of tears. Xie Yilu felt a terrible pang of pain in his heart. “No. I’dont. I…”

Liao Jixiang walked past him, headed back in the direction he came. His pace was hurried, which only made his limp even worse. Feeling guilty, Xie Yilu rushed to give him a helping pull, but since Liao Jixiang was already struggling to walk, a single pull was all that was needed to send him toppling down. 

Xie Yilu blamed his clumsy hands and leaned down to help him up. Yet not only did Liao Jixinag refuse his help, but he also slapped him across the face. Although his face flared in pain, the words Liao Jixiang had said were echoing in his heart: “I feared you’d look down on me. You do look down on me!”

He understood why Liao Jixiang had refused to meet; he was afraid, afraid of being looked down upon. It dawned on him that the most pitiful thing about eunuchs was not their belittlement by others, but rather that sense of inferiority that had been branded into their very bones as a chain they were never to shake off. 

“Come. Stand up.” Xie Yilu insisted on pulling him, refusing to let go of his sleeves, but Liao Jixiang was adamant about resisting. As the two of them pulled back and forth, a whistle sounded from across the stream. It came from a pair of old beggars, their bodies covered in rags as they dug for wild vegetables. One of them had tied around his belt a large iron chain so thick that one was unlikely to find another like it. He yelled, “It’s the middle of the day! Whatcha doing?!” 

Xie Yilu got up from Liao Jixiang to see those two beggars, grinning and laughing as they gesticulated. They then shouted at Liao Jixiang, “Little cripple, there’s no point in fighting. He only brought you over to this kinda place to do that!” 

Those absurd and obscene words reverberated in the air. It took Xie Yilu a long time to understand what they meant — he picked up a stone without a single thought and hurled it towards the opposite bank but it missed its mark. 

The beggars bellowed, their shouts becoming even wilder. “Don’t hit us! You do you, we4 won’t get in your way!” 

Xie Yilu was so furious that it felt like the top of his skull might be blown off. He ran to the stream and stepped in without hesitation, picking up pebbles one after another to throw at them. “Fuck off! Fuck off!”

Though ostensibly a stream, the current flowing through its centre was quite strong, and Xie Yilu was forced to stop when his knees were submerged. The beggars did not curse at him — they were only interested in making fun of Liao Jixiang. “Little cripple, it’s your first time eh? You’re gonna hurt like a bitch the first time!” 

They shouted as they retreated into the forest behind them. Unable to cross over, Xie Yilu was burning up with helplessness. Looking to his side, he saw a string of large white rocks that just about formed a crossing to the other side. He had yet to act on the idea when a shout of “Chunchu!” sounded from behind him. 

Xie Yilu turned around in the sound’s direction. Liao Jixiang had gotten up and was standing beside the stream, the water slowly lapping against the black fabric of his shoes. Was Liao Jixiang concerned for him? Xie Yilu stared at him over the shimmering streamwater, a somewhat hard pressed-expression on his face. 

“Come back,” Liao Jixiang ordered. “It’s just two old ruffians.“ 

He was right, but Xie Yilu could not let it go. He was angry, though he was unsure whether he was angry at them for their hurtful words, or at himself for his undue remarks. In the end, he waded back and stood, dripping wet, before Liao Jixiang. 

“Let’s go home.” Liao Jixiang turned and left. This was a horrible meeting — it would have been better if he had been ruthless to himself and decided to not meet in the first place. He pinched his fingers inside his sleeves and a determination to learn from his painful mistake welled up in him. Suddenly, Xie Yilu yelled above the rumbling of the water: “It’s because I never felt you were any different!” 

It was a nonsensical thing to say — how could he talk about a reason without there ever being a question? Yet Liao Jixiang understood. He abruptly turned around and frowned as he stared at Xie Yilu. He made for a sorry sight, lifting up the soaking-wet hem of his zhiduo as he rambled insensibly. “It’s because I never felt you were any different. That’s why I said what I said… I’ve never cared about those things, I’ve only cared about who you are as a person.”

Liao Jixiang’s expression changed from this to that. Once he cycled through every emotion possible and the dust had settled, the sole survivor was a sharp smile. “Hmph. You lie.“ 

Xie Yily rebuked, “I’m speaking from the bottom of my heart!” 

Liao Jixiang did not dare to look at him. “You’re speaking lies.” He turned his back to Xie Yilu. “You scholars are the best at speaking lies.” 

“Look at me!” Xie Yilu’s tone was almost like that of an order. 

Liao Jixiang was still too afraid to look and with a grit of his teeth, he walked straight out. As he walked, he twisted and tugged anxiously on the fan in his hand. His guess was that he wanted Xie Yilu to shout at him. Sure enough, Xie Yilu fulfilled his wish. “Why did you cut the trees?!” 

Liao Jixiang stopped, but only for a second, and then dropped his head and kept walking. 

Xie Yilu was left behind, dripping wet and floundering desperately like a lost child. “When’s the next time?!” 

The next time? Liao Jixiang smiled mockingly at himself. He had never envisioned a ‘next time’. 

“Three days. I’ll wait for you here, three days from now!” Xie Yilu had completely forgotten that his original intention was to meet once and finally put an end to the ill-fated entanglement. 

Liao Jixiang angrily stomped his foot. When he looked behind at Xie Yilu, his face was no longer a blank mask, but rather filled with the deepest of emotions and gratitude. 

“Remember, don’t tell anyone that we have met.” 

Another chapter that is light on the history and heavy on the characters. I’m trying to juggle Grand Chamberlain and Hairpins Beneath His Cap as best as I can, but updates will likely be weekly to fortnightly. I’ve actually translated up to Chapter 15 already but I like to have a few chapters stored in case university classes destroy my translation schedule. The time it takes to finish a chapter varies greatly depending on the length and more importantly, how much research I have to do, but please do let me know if my current update speed is too slow.