Chapter 9

So what Cui Jiu cared about most was still his own reputation for talent.

Of course.

I had thoroughly humiliated him at the wedding. Who knew how much mockery and slander he had heard since? People must have been saying that this self-proclaimed genius had been utterly outpainted by a woman. How could he not be anxious?

At that thought, I smiled. “Your talent is too great for me to compare with you. Besides, the proprieties between men and women cannot be neglected. As they say, gossip is fearsome, and enough slander can destroy a person. I will trouble you no further. Please excuse me.”

I ordered the driver to urge on the horses and left without looking back.

Cui Jiu did not give up so easily.

For the next few days, I stayed indoors. He sent me a written challenge every day.

I sent one back; he sent another. I sent one back; he sent another.

Everyone in the household seemed to look at me rather oddly.

Of course they did. The envelope might say “challenge,” but who could know what was written inside? I could never clear myself of the suspicion that we were exchanging private messages.

What a hateful man Cui Jiu was!

On the sixth day of the ninth month, the dowager’s birthday, the whole family gathered for a meal. A subordinate handed the duke a message brought by carrier pigeon. After reading it, his expression changed abruptly.

Everyone looked puzzled. He waved a hand, indicated that nothing was wrong, and told us to continue.

I sensed trouble. After the banquet, I followed him to his courtyard, paid my respects, and asked urgently, “Grandfather, is there news of Qilang?”

He looked at me deeply. Instead of answering, he sighed and went into his room without looking back.

The following day, the military dispatch reached the capital.

His Majesty summoned us to the palace and offered generous consolation. Qilang had remained calm in danger, he said, and commanded well, saving many soldiers and a large quantity of provisions. But he had fallen into the sea and was feared dead in the service of his country. We must bear our grief.

I had not slept all night and my mind was already foggy. Hearing those words made me dizzier still. The next moment, my head grew heavy, my feet gave way, and I collapsed.

In the dream, I actually saw Pei Qi.

He lay unconscious on the ground, covered by a cloak with a fur collar.

My dreaming self did not question why I was there. I rushed to him. His beautiful face was white as paper, his lips cracked. His long, seaweed-black hair clung wetly to his cheeks, making his already small face look pitifully fragile.

I touched his forehead. It was burning. A layer of white frost lay on his clothes and hair. I tasted it: terribly salty. Salt. Reaching beneath the cloak, I discovered that all his clothes were still half wet!

That would never do.

But where could I find a change of clothes?

I looked around. We were in a cave, cold enough already, with gusts of briny wind blowing through the entrance.

Not far away burned a fire. Fish had been skewered on sticks beside it, nearly charred on one side and still raw on the other.

Its meager warmth did little against the cave’s chill, and the fuel was almost gone.

I was turning in frantic circles when his lips moved. Leaning close, I heard him mumbling, “Water. Water.”

I turned the fish over, cooked it through, and tried to feed him. He could not eat.

Outside the cave lay white sand and jagged rocks, and beyond them an immense expanse of blue water.

Was this the sea?

I came from the central plains. I had seen lakes, but never the sea.

I climbed out to the shore. Shells of every size lay on the sand, along with dark green water plants—no, seaweed. I picked up a shell and scooped up some seawater, meaning to take it back for him. Then I remembered the salt on his clothes and hesitated. One taste, and I spat it straight out.

Even if you beat a salt seller to death, he could not make soup this salty.

I looked inland. Jagged rocks everywhere, not a sign of human habitation as far as I could see, and no trace of running water.

Not daring to leave Pei Yao for long, I returned to the cave and thought. Then I clenched my teeth, scrambled up to higher ground, and broke off some dry branches for the fire. I also gathered rocks to pile at the entrance and keep out the wind.

The opening was not large. I nearly filled it with stones, leaving only a narrow gap through which I could squeeze sideways.

At last the fire made the cave less bitterly cold. But the sight of Pei Yao lying unconscious and almost dehydrated left me frantic.

I had no idea what to do. Then, watching the fire crackle, I suddenly remembered something.

I had once sneaked into the kitchen for a snack and noticed that although the soup in a pot was salty, the water formed from droplets on the lid tasted plain.

Could boiling seawater produce fresh water?

Leaving Pei Yao, I ran outside again and searched the beach. I found several pairs of larger shells, filled one half of each pair with water, covered it with the other half, and set them in the fire.

After a while, the upper shells grew wet. But when I tasted the water, it was still salty. I was beginning to despair when I noticed grains of salt appearing in the lower halves. I picked one up, let it cool, and tasted it. That water was bitter and salty, much saltier than the water in the upper shell!

The upper shells had come from the sea too, so of course they carried salt. But the water produced by the steam was fresh!

My spirits surged. I tipped out the water from the upper shells and tried again. After several repetitions, I finally collected a little fresh water and hurried to give it to Pei Yao.

He drank some. His cracked lips grew moist, but his forehead remained terribly hot. Steeling myself, I removed his wet clothes, which were almost dripping, and quickly wrapped him in the cloak.

Pei Qi’s pallor, and this dreadful illness…

They were etched deep into my heart.

Though the cave was still cold, anxiety made my cheeks burn.

I offered him fish again. This time he ate.

Hurrying back and forth, I steamed more fresh water, dampened my handkerchief, and laid it on his forehead. I hung his wet clothes beside the fire to dry. When I turned back, I saw that the cloak had come loose.

As I pulled it up, part of his shoulder was exposed. Afraid he would catch another chill, I hastily covered him.

The moment I touched him, he caught my wrist. At the same time, voices sounded outside the cave.

With a start, I woke.

When I opened my eyes, there was no cave and no Pei Yao. Only my aunt and the emperor, watching me with concern.

I looked down. The bed was spread with bright yellow brocade.

Was this… the imperial bed?

I froze, unsure what to think.

Worse still, His Majesty himself was holding my hand. “Sanniang, are you feeling unwell?”

As he spoke, his thumb stroked the back of my hand.