Chapter 2
Chapter 2
“Miss Ah Wu has boarded someone else’s carriage. This servant could not stop her.”
Xiao Tao looked at Meng Cijun with trepidation.
“Stop her? Why stop her? Let her go.”
Meng Cijun rubbed his brow in annoyance. “Go about your business. If Grandmother asks, just say she felt unwell and went to bed early.”
In the five years Ah Wu had been with the Meng family, she had played out the drama of running away twice before.
She had grown cleverer this time, bribing Xiao Tao and claiming she had boarded someone else’s carriage.
It was a detailed lie, showing she had at least made some progress.
The candlewick sputtered twice, causing Meng Cijun to wonder idly if some good fortune was about to arrive.
The first piece of good news was, naturally, about Wen Niang-the woman he had loved in his youth. Yesterday, she had fled the palace draft for him.
This morning, he had lied, claiming he was assisting the King in selecting ceremonial robes, when in fact he had spent the entire day busy arranging a place for Wen Niang.
Wen Niang and Ah Wu were naturally worlds apart.
Wen Niang came from a noble background; she could not be slighted.
He had hurriedly renovated a detached villa for her.
The maids chosen to serve her had to be dutiful and devoted.
Her robes and bedding had to be the finest and most exquisite.
Wen Niang had sat by the bedside, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at him, several times appearing as if she wanted to speak but held back out of shyness.
“Brother Cijun, do the feelings of those years still count?
“Wen Niang is unwilling to enter the palace as a consort, but Brother Cijun already has a fiancée. Wen Niang’s heart is truly uneasy.”
How could Ah Wu even compare to her?
Over these past five years, he had used every possible excuse to delay their marriage again and again, hoping she would take the hint, pack her things, and crawl back to Dazexiang on her own.
If Ah Wu really left this time, that would make two pieces of good news.
But Ah Wu lacked such self-awareness.
A year ago, she had also run away in a fit of pique, but she couldn’t even fake it convincingly.
She took no clothes, no silver, and had no travel permit.
She had simply staged it for his benefit.
Only Grandmother had believed it to be true, losing sleep out of worry and becoming so frantic that she nearly went out with the servants to search for her herself.
As expected, there was no need to search. When she couldn’t keep up the act any longer, she walked back on her own.
He didn’t know where she had been playing, but her shoes, socks, and skirt were all soaked and covered in mud.
He had been reading at the time and couldn’t even be bothered to lift his eyes to look at her.
Ah Wu had said aggrievedly, “Meng Cijun, Ah Wu ran away from home today.”
And?
He never cared about her affairs.
Like that time they went on an outing; she had excitedly pointed at a tree, saying that only whistles made from those leaves could be understood by wild geese.
Seeing her rustic, provincial air, the surrounding young lords and ladies had exchanged looks and giggled mockingly.
She had made him lose face completely.
Later, Grandmother asked Ah Wu why she looked so disheveled.
She said, “Ah Wu didn’t ruin her skirt on purpose. Ah Wu didn’t know the rivers in the Royal Capital were so long. I walked for so long on an empty stomach and still couldn’t find my way home.”
It wasn’t the river’s fault; it was because she was a fool.
Instead of taking the main road, she followed the riverbank.
However, having gone hungry during her last runaway attempt, she ought to have learned her lesson by now.
She would surely return before dinner.
“Serve a bowl for her and leave it there.”
The sky gradually darkened, and Ah Wu’s bowl of rice grew cold enough to emit a chill.
Yet, she still had not returned.
A maid, lacking discernment, moved to clear the meal away.
“Leave it. Wait until tonight to heat it up.”
It would save that troublemaker from waking Grandmother and demanding someone light the stove to cook when she returned in the middle of the night.
For some reason, Meng Cijun felt restless.
He was usually someone who could read ten lines at a glance.
Why was it that after half a day, he still hadn’t turned a single page of the book in his hand?
There were two soft knocks at the door.
Meng Cijun felt a surge of joy he didn’t even recognize himself, yet he feigned anger. “What time is it? You finally decided to come back?”
“…My Lord, it is I.”
It wasn’t Ah Wu. It was the servant, Songyan.
“The cook came to ask if My Lord is hungry, and if that rice needs to be reheated.”
…No need. Let her eat a bowl of cold rice and freeze to death for all he cared.
“Place the rice along with a small stove outside the study.”
When the stove was delivered, a drizzling rain had begun to fall outside.
Even the wind grew stronger, causing the lamplight on the wall to flicker slightly.
He wondered if the King would worry about the autumn floods during court tomorrow.
He knew he should be thinking about how to respond if the King asked about the floods.
But for some reason, Meng Cijun couldn’t help but think.
When that troublemaker returned this time, her skirt and shoes would likely be soaked again.
Meng Cijun only finished writing tomorrow’s memorial when the candles were nearly burnt out.
As he set down his brush on the final character, the door was pushed open, and a wave of damp mist blew into the room.
Just as he expected, she couldn’t keep up the act and had returned through the rain, drenched.
Ah Wu stood outside the door, her skirt gathered up, her feet bare, revealing a portion of her calves.
Just like the first time he had seen her.
She had torn her hem without hesitation to bandage his wound.
Revealing a length of her calf, leaving him not knowing where to look.
The Ah Wu before him was pure and ignorant, knowing nothing of the boundaries between men and women.
Like a moist-eyed calf, like the youngest daughter of a mountain spirit.
She leaped nimbly into his arms, hooking her arms around his neck and tilting her head to look at him. Even her voice, as she acted spoiled, was laced with mist:
“Meng Cijun, Ah Wu ran away from home!”
As if possessed, he actually reached out and pulled her into his embrace.
The finished memorial on the desk was scattered across the floor by the wind.
The fine calligraphy he was usually so proud of was blurred into ink blots by the moisture.
It was no longer possible to distinguish what had been written.
This autumn rain was truly lingering and vexing, as if it wouldn’t stop until it had soaked him through.
Meng Cijun woke with a start.
The room was silent; the candlelight was bright.
The memorial was neat, the handwriting upright.
It was not soaked, nor was it finished.
Just like Ah Wu-she had not returned.