Dai Shengyan smiled calmly. “Of course,” he said, rather than “thank you.” Lady Xiao’s face turned even uglier.
Xie Jinglan’s complexion was a ghastly paper white. As Lady Xiao and Xie Bingfeng left, Xiahou Lian touched the other boy’s face. Unsurprisingly, he was burning with fever.
Xie Jinglan was more fragile than even those noblewomen who never left their chambers, but Xiahou Lian didn’t have time to click his tongue in astonishment. He hoisted Xie Jinglan onto his back, then—offering Dai Shengyan hasty thanks—rushed back toward Qiuwu Courtyard. Dai Shengyan was left standing alone in the snow, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
After that, Qiuwu Courtyard was once again in chaos.
Xie Jinglan remained sick and bedridden for several days. Thanks to his confinement, Xiahou Lian also suffered a brief period of lethargy, but before long, he was back to his lively self. He was strong and robust from years of martial arts training and swordplay, with a strong constitution—when stricken with fever, all he had to do was sweat it out. He stood in sharp contrast to Xie Jinglan, whose spirit seemed to be traveling to the gates of hell and back, terrifying everyone around him.
The distressed Lianxiang couldn’t help muttering, “Why did Dai-xiansheng have to stay at Magistrate Su’s house that night? This is all his fault. The moment Shaoye woke up, he climbed over the wall to find Dai-xiansheng, even though he was still sick! It’s so vexing!”
“It couldn’t be helped,” Aunt Lan soothed her. “Fortunately, the young master is fine now. He just needs more rest.”
Suddenly, Xiahou Lian popped in without warning, startling Lianxiang. “Lianxiang-jie, did you say Shaoye went out to get help for me?”
The day before, Xiahou Lian had received his own deed of sale. After mulling it over a while, he decided not to throw it away or burn it. Instead, he went to Dai Shengyan and asked whether he could give the deed to Xie Jinglan. Dai Shengyan neither permitted nor forbade it, saying he was free to do as he pleased. Pocketing the deed of sale again, Xiahou Lian made his way back. As he passed the kitchen, he’d happened to overhear Lianxiang muttering.
He’d never imagined that Xie Jinglan could have mustered the strength to crawl out of bed and track down help for him—all while delirious with fever.
Lianxiang pressed her hand to her chest and took several deep breaths. It was a while before she managed to grumble, “What’s wrong with you? Why are you always scaring people like that?! Yes, the young master knew that you were locked up, and he was beside himself with worry. I found out that Dai-xiansheng was at the Su residence, so the young master climbed over the wall and left. Aunt Lan and I couldn’t stop him. Pelted with cold wind that early in the morning—it’s no wonder he came down with a fever!”
Xiahou Lian snatched the medicine Lianxiang held from her hands. “I’ll take this to him.”
As he grabbed it, the medicine’s pungent aroma wafted to his nose. The sheer bitterness made him click his tongue. How awful it must be for Xie Jinglan to have to drink it day after day. Xiahou Lian rarely took medicine when he was sick. That was firstly because his mother was rarely in the mountains, so no one would know he was ill, and secondly because he was usually tough enough to recover on his own.
Xiahou Lian carefully pushed open Xie Jinglan’s door and looked in to see whether he was awake.
Xie Jinglan was leaning against the bedframe. He lifted his eyes from his pile of books to see Xiahou Lian peering in furtively, like a thief.
“You’re really something else,” said Xiahou Lian. “Sick as a dog, and yet you still remember to study.”
“You should study too. Xiansheng’s lectures will start the day after tomorrow. He said that the first class will test our understanding of Mencius’s texts.”
“Got it, got it,” Xiahou Lian replied dismissively, bringing the medicinal soup to Xie Jinglan’s lips. Xie Jinglan drank it in one gulp without batting an eye. The candied fruits Xiahou Lian had prepared for him were superfluous now.
Xie Jinglan was about to pick up his book and keep reading, but Xiahou Lian pushed his hands down. “Wait, Shaoye. Look. I’ll show you a magic trick!”
“No.” Xie Jinglan refused without a second thought.
“Come on, it’ll be quick. Just one look!”
Xie Jinglan had no choice but to sigh and sit back, waiting for Xiahou Lian to begin his performance.
First, he showed his empty hands to Xie Jinglan. Next, he casually grabbed at the air as if catching something. His preparations complete, he shoved both hands beneath Xie Jinglan’s nose.
Xiahou Lian smiled radiantly, then pursed his lips, silently signaling Xie Jinglan to pry his hands open. Xie Jinglan glanced at his face and reluctantly opened Xiahou Lian’s left hand. Inside was a crumpled piece of paper—an ugly, dingy thing. It looked a bit like straw paper from the latrine.
Disgusting. Xie Jinglan didn’t want to deal with this at all. He reached for his book.
“Hey, humor me! Open it and take a look!”
Xie Jinglan hesitated for a moment before finally opening the paper ball. His gaze froze on the paper. “Wh...why are you giving me your deed of sale?”
“I’m staying on as your book-boy until my mother comes for me. So I’m leaving my deed of sale with you for safekeeping.”
“I don’t want it. Hold on to it yourself.”
Xiahou Lian shoved the paper into Xie Jinglan’s hand. “Just hang on to it. Some people who want my deed of sale can’t get it!”
“Hmph. You’re talking about yourself like you’re some precious treasure.”
Despite his sardonic words, he placed Xiahou Lian’s deed of sale in a small, locked box that he stashed in his clothing trunk. Then he turned back to Xiahou Lian and opened his other fist, in which he found a rusty copper coin.
Picking it up, Xie Jinglan asked, “What’s this? Looks like something from the Tang dynasty.”
“I found it in a grave back in the mountains. I actually found four, but my mother took the other three. She said I should keep this one as an heirloom to give to my future wife.”
In a grave? Disgusting! Xie Jinglan flung the coin back at Xiahou Lian as if scalded. “Your mother must be out of her mind! Who’d want something like that? If you give that to a girl, she’ll dump you without a doubt.”
Xiahou Lian pressed the coin back into Xie Jinglan’s hand. “You keep it. If you ever need me after I’m gone, place it at the highest point in the city. No matter where I am, if I’m alive, I’ll come to you.”
Xiahou Lian looked unusually serious. Xie Jinglan had never seen him like this before. Xiahou Lian was always so carefree and unkempt, even his posture while walking was sloppy. But his usual playful grin and mischievous winks were nowhere to be seen now, and Xie Jinglan felt unsettled.
The coin in his palm still carried Xiahou Lian’s warmth. Xie Jinglan’s hands were always cold, especially in the winter, and the coin felt as though it was burning his palm, the heat spreading up his arm to his chest. It was hot to the point of being scalding.
“You...” he stammered, stunned. He paused, then muttered, “It’s fine, Xiahou Lian. I got used to my mother being gone and my father ignoring me. I’ll get used to not having you by my side too. No matter what happens, I’ll just have to get used to it.” He rubbed the coin in his hand, then added, “Once I become an important official, though, I’ll have your boss captured. You’ll be free, and you won’t need to steal anymore.”
“Sounds good to me! I’ll be counting on you, Shaoye!”