Chapter Twenty-Two
Third Kowtow, May We Always Be Together (1)
“Was it when you were in Putuo that you went to Qiandao Lake?” she guessed. It must have been during the time he lived near Putuo.
“Yes.” It was during that time. After the calamity of his third year had passed, his father had taken him all over Zhejiang.
“Why do you want to take me there?”
“It used to be a thousand mountains, not a thousand islands. There are ancient towns and cities beneath the water.”
When he first met her, before he knew of their previous lives, this place had flashed through his mind. He had lived there as a child and wanted to take this little sister of his to enjoy the scenery.
But now, there was another memory attached to it.
That year, he had taken Zhaozhao from Chaisang to Luojia Mountain. The journey took several days. To avoid attracting attention, they had bypassed Linhai Commandery and taken a longer route, passing through Yexiang at the foot of Qianshan. Officials had come to welcome them, so he had evaded them once again and stayed in a private residence.
There was a small courtyard there, purchased for Shen Ce by a subordinate who had followed him through life and death. Shen Ce himself had never visited it.
Naturally, many of the people in Yexiang bore the surname Ye, but the plaque on that residence read “Shenzhai” (深宅, Deep Residence). The name was a play on Shen Ce’s surname, Shen (沈), using the identically pronounced character shen (深), meaning “deep,” as the residence was tucked away deep at the foot of Qianshan. There was another reason for the name: to discourage visitors from disturbing him.
Beside the water in the height of summer, she had cradled a jade pillow in her arms, watching golden koi play in the shallow pond, and asked, "Ge, you command a mighty army, yet even when traveling from Chaisang to Putuo, you have to conceal your movements. What are you hiding from?"
He knew she was exceptionally intelligent and had already seen how he lived every day as though walking on thin ice. What he was hiding from were plots against his life and soldiers lying in ambush.
Drunk on wine, the beauty had undressed him, counting the wounds on his body one by one. "You've brought glory to the Shen family and protected the people along the Yangtze, but who's there to protect you?"
He pressed her against his chest. "Worried about your brother?"
Shen Ce faced the night sky, gazing at the moon above. Zhaozhao lay quietly against his chest, admiring the moon reflected in the water.
"The King of the Yangtze, who scorns imperial kin and looks down upon the hundred clans. Accomplished in both letters and arms, capable of solemnity and wickedness. One general guards the Yangtze, his fame spreading across the four seas, admired by all. His enemies fear him, the common people revere him, and women hold him in their hearts. Ge, you've long since lived a life worth living. What do I have to worry about?"
"There's another line to add," she whispered beside his ear. "Hated by civil officials, envied by military officers, and by no means a good man."
He laughed.
The person in his arms was on the verge of sleep when suspicions began to arise, and she grew jealous over the residence.
"This house is hidden so deep beneath Qianshan. Which beauty did you prepare it for?"
Even drunk, she had to find something to be jealous about. This was his Zhaozhao.
He said nothing. Only after she had fallen asleep did he answer softly, "The Shen family's beauty."
In all the world, apart from you, the Shen family's beauty, who else could enter Shenzhai beneath Qianshan? Who else could strip Shen Ce of every last garment?
That was one night when the King of the Yangtze, who watched the beacon fires by day, concealed himself in Yexiang beneath Qianshan.
Now, the stars had shifted and the years had passed. The thousand mountains had become a thousand islands. Yexiang had long since been buried beneath the water, never to be seen again.
Shen Ce turned his head, the faint white mist of his breath enveloping her. "The sunlight's about to disappear. Take a look."
She shook her head.
"Keep your brother company. Just one look."
He knew she was already wavering.
The warmth against his back moved away, and the girl's soft breathing became visible. In winter, even breath had a color. It was white.
She was watching with him.
"If you like looking at snow, I'll take you into the snowy mountains," she said. There was no shortage of snow here.
"The most beautiful snow is still on Mount Lu," he said with a smile. "Frost and snow blanketing Mount Lu, the final masterpiece of Heaven itself."
Anyone who had seen the snow on Mount Lu would remember it for the rest of their life.
The snow-covered mountains of Mount Lu were an ink-wash painting. Across the undulating peaks, there was nothing but black and white. Pagodas in the snow, valleys buried in snow, branches and trees like jade, and a white sea of clouds that obscured even the boundary of the sky.
"Nothing can compare to the beauty of Chaisang," he said softly.
She assumed he meant present-day Chaisang, the urban area near Mount Lu. She did not think much of it.
But he was speaking of Chaisang in ancient times, nestled between mountains and water. Mount Lu was the mountain, and the Yangtze River was the water.
***
The Qiandao Lake Shen Ce had mentioned was captivating because of the ancient city submerged beneath its waters. It had a story.
Here, at this Qiandao Lake, the sights most worth seeing were the houses and European-style castles that appeared from time to time on its islands.
And they, too, had stories.
Zhaozhao told him the love story that every tourist who came from afar would hear at least once. It was a love story from a hundred years ago. A man had bought a small island here and begun building a castle as a gift for his wife. Before it was completed, his wife passed away. Devastated, the island's owner donated the unfinished castle and the island to the country. From then on, he never set foot on the island again.
The story was so old and had been repeated countless times, yet everyone was still happy to hear it, and happy to pass it on by word of mouth.
The human heart was always drawn toward goodness, toward warmth.
"One day, I'll build you a..." She thought for a moment. "A courtyard house."
They were Chinese, after all. A traditional courtyard residence would be better.
The man carrying her on his back was silent for a long while.
"All right. I'll wait."
On the way here, she had been anxious to arrive before dark and had not stopped to rest.
They would have to drive back at night, so they could not go as fast. It was a long journey, and she wanted to find a rest stop first.
After spending some time in the cold wind, Shen Ce was considerably more alert. He felt sorry that she had been driving for so long and wanted to take over for a while.
"Let me drive. A lot of the road signs on the way back are only in French. You won't be able to read them."
Zhaozhao insisted on driving herself.
She found the nearest rest stop and washed her face in the restroom. When she came out, she saw Shen Ce chatting casually with a stranger.
Each man held a cup of hot chocolate, resting in front of a row of empty seats by the glass windows. There was another cup beside Shen Ce, meant for her.
Zhaozhao thought nothing of it when she first emerged from the restroom, but as she drew closer, she looked at him in astonishment.
He was speaking French, discussing with the man the Olympics that had been held in Montreal and the increase in tobacco taxes that had resulted from them.
After the stranger left, she sat down opposite him and asked in Chinese, "What were you talking about?"
"Taxes," he said. "Taxes are an extremely interesting subject. They allow you to understand which groups bear the main tax burden in a country, gauge its level of economic development, and, most importantly, get a clear picture of how ordinary people actually live."
He pushed the hot chocolate toward her. He had bought it from the Tim Hortons nearby.
In a soft voice, she asked in French, "Still pretending? Pretending you don't speak French?"
Shen Ce looked innocent. "You're falsely accusing me. I never said that."
Sophistry.
Whenever Zhaozhao thought about how she had gone out of her way, time and again, to look after someone who "didn't speak French," she no longer felt like talking to him.
Shen Ce took his phone out of his coat and began examining it.
"Shen Yan bought it for me," he explained when he noticed her staring at him. "The one I was using more than three years ago wouldn't even turn on. I've lost touch with so many friends."
As soon as he had regained consciousness, he had been so anxious to find her that he had not had time to concern himself with anyone else.
She was the only person in his phone.
"What a shame," she said, sipping her hot chocolate. "What if you had a lady friend who was especially close to you? You've vanished off the face of the earth for so long. She probably wouldn't want anything to do with you anymore."
He put his phone away again. "Not necessarily. There will always be some who remain devoted."
Zhaozhao found herself at a loss for a retort. She could hardly snap back when she was the one who had brought up the subject of close female friends in the first place.
Back in the car, Zhaozhao wanted to remind him to take his medicine and get some sleep. Otherwise, once they were on the road, she was afraid she wouldn't be able to look after him properly.
But after their back-and-forth teasing just now, neither had been the first to speak. She adjusted her seat belt, about to concede defeat, when the man beside her spoke first.
"I have a younger sister. I studied French for her."
Another younger sister. She thought of that cousin for whom Shen Ce had changed his courtesy name...
"I wasn't close to her before, but I knew she was studying in Montreal," he said, searching for some water to take his medicine. "I thought if I learned the language, we'd have something to talk about in the future."
Zhaozhao said nothing. She took the bottle of mineral water from his hand and gave him the thermos instead.
She started the car and turned on the heater to warm it up. Thin streams of warm air blew from the rows of little vents, toward him and toward herself.
"But that younger sister was only thirteen that year," she gently exposed him. "Even if you told me you liked her, I wouldn't believe you."
"Yes, she was too young," he admitted. "But she was so beautiful that anyone who saw her would like her. I'm only human, after all."
A smile appeared on her face, and Shen Ce watched it.
"I'll take you somewhere," she said happily.
Given Shen Ce's condition, Qiandao Lake was about as far as he could manage. She was afraid he wouldn't be able to endure going any farther. Zhaozhao drove him to a nearby rest area.
She wouldn't let him get out of the car first. Instead, she rummaged through the trunk for her ski clothes and insisted on dressing him in them. He looked rather constrained in her clothes. They were small on him, but at least they were warm.
She whispered in his ear, "Be good and keep them on. I don't mind."
She took his hand and led him to a wooden fence, looking for the small animals kept there.
After dark, the animals were afraid of the cold and reluctant to show themselves. Zhaozhao bought a handful of mixed grains for feeding them from a vending machine, only to be terribly disappointed.
Just as she was about to turn away, a deer appeared and trotted toward her, its hooves going clippity-clop.
Zhaozhao took Shen Ce's hand, poured all the grain into his palm, and guided him to feed the deer.
Shen Ce felt somewhat helpless. Two grown adults had driven to a rest area specifically to feed deer.
"I'll buy you some more," she said, thinking he was enjoying himself.
Insert a coin, buy some grain. Insert another coin, buy some more. She repeated this several times.
The deer licked Shen Ce's palm until it was thoroughly wet. He couldn't help wondering whether he had shot too many deer while hunting in the southern frontier in his previous life and was now being made to repay the debt in this one.
But seeing how absorbed Zhaozhao was in the activity, he was happy enough to play along.
Zhaozhao drove carefully along the roads at night. By the time they reached Montreal, it was already past midnight.
When she woke Shen Ce, they were not downstairs from her home, but outside the hotel where he had stayed on his first night.
"I called Shen Yan," she said. "I told him we wouldn't make it back today."
She had also asked the housekeeper and Shen Yan to pack some clean clothes and bring them over ahead of time. It was rare for the two of them to have a few days together, and she didn't want anyone else disturbing them. She had left her own home to the young couple and their child.
They handed the car over to the hotel manager. Once they entered their room, Shen Ce went straight to sleep.
Zhaozhao soaked a towel in hot water and wiped his hands and face. She stripped him bare, leaving only his underwear on, wiped him here and there, then wrapped him snugly in the quilt.
In the stillness of the night, she simply leaned over the quilt beside him, staring at him in a daze.
She looked at his hands. His nails had grown a little long.
She rummaged through her bag. The elderly housekeeper at home was meticulous about the little details of daily life, so there was bound to be a nail clipper somewhere. Sure enough, she found one.
Sitting cross-legged beneath the light, she trimmed his nails one by one.
Just like the night before, she held him in her arms and slept soundly.
The following day, she insisted on going to the Japanese barbecue restaurant they had visited when they first reunited.
Coincidentally, of all the chefs there, it was the same man from that night who came to serve them.
Zhaozhao leaned against Shen Ce as they ordered together.
The chef suddenly smiled and said in Chinese, "You have to smile today."
"You speak Chinese!" Zhaozhao laughed in surprise.
"That's right. Neither of you said a word that day, and he ordered in English, so I was still trying to guess your nationality."
The chef laughed, then suddenly splashed some oil onto the grill. With a whoosh, a burst of flame shot up.
Zhaozhao cried out in surprise and realized the chef had played a trick on her. He had deliberately distracted them to give them an unexpected surprise.
The chef called over a girl in a kimono. She was the one who had repeatedly tried to persuade Shen Ce not to order so much food that night.
The impression Shen Ce had left on everyone that night was of a pitiful man "on the verge of being abandoned." Today, he was a man who had "survived a terrible ordeal and won back his beloved."
As for Zhaozhao, she was the "heartless woman"...
And so, the chef and the girl treated Shen Ce with particular care and affection. When they left, the two escorted them to the door and even gave them a special discount coupon for their next visit.
"I won't dare come here again," Zhaozhao whispered to him, looking back at the restaurant's dark red sign. "If I came with a male classmate, they'd probably think I was the sort of woman who seduces someone and then abandons him."
Perhaps even coming with a female classmate would be enough.
Back at the hotel, the housekeeper came over to help her disinfect the bathroom and bathtub.
Zhaozhao ran a hot bath for him. The hotel's air-conditioning was strong, and she wore a soft T-shirt and sweatpants. Barefoot beside the bathtub, she fiddled with a small electric incense burner.
When staying in a hotel, one had to follow the hotel's rules. An open flame was out of the question, so an electric burner was more convenient.
The housekeeper had already prepared the bed of incense ash. Zhaozhao added a little shredded aromatic wood and began heating it.
The familiar fragrance of Dengliumei agarwood.
She drew the curtains together, shutting out the afternoon light.
When she turned around, Shen Ce had already taken off most of his clothes.
After he fell asleep, she had stripped him naked more than once or twice, whether to apply medicine or wipe his body. She hadn't thought anything of it.
But now, it was broad daylight, the sky bright and clear, and the afternoon was well underway. Yet with just one meeting of their eyes, she suddenly felt that something was improper.
Very improper indeed.
"Put on a bathrobe. Aren't you afraid of getting cold?"
She had no idea when she had ended up in Shen Ce's arms, her eyes dazzled by his beauty.
"Have I ever told you that you're..."
What word should she use? Good-looking? Beautiful? Exceptionally handsome?
"...quite good-looking?"
"You have."
She carried him in her heart and was often flushed with feeling. What outrageous things hadn't she said? And how many outrageous things had she done?
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