Chapter 5 — A Lifetime's Delayed Longing

When spring arrived, the Empress commanded the Bureau of Palace Attendants to prepare the grand spring banquet. As the official in charge of inventory and supplies, I was so busy my feet barely touched the ground. On the day of the banquet, Chu Hanh Vu accompanied her mother into the palace. Her lingering illness seemed to have improved somewhat; she wore a pale pink spring gown, with a pearly hairpin nestled in her dark hair. Huo Thanh Tu was also present among the guests. The two of them stood at a distance from one another, avoiding each other's company. As I hurried down the covered corridor clutching my ledger, Chu Hanh Vu called out to me.

Official Nguyen.

I halted and offered a formal bow.

Lady Chu.

She gazed at me, her expression a tangled web of complex emotions.

You truly look like a proper woman of the palace now, Elder Sister.

It is merely the duty of my position.

She coughed softly into her hand. I signaled a young palace maid behind me to fetch warm water. Chu Hanh Vu looked startled.

Are you still willing to take care of me, Sister?

I found her words remarkably strange.

You are a guest within these palace walls, and your cough is severe. The Bureau of Palace Attendants is naturally obligated to look after you.

The color drained slightly from her face.

Only because I am a guest?

I remained silent. She continued in a low whisper.

Tuan Van, back then, I truly never intended to snatch anything away from you.

I looked at her. A spring breeze swept through the corridor, scattering floral shadows across her sleeves. Tears shimmered in her eyes. In my past life, such words would have ignited a blazing fury within me. Now, they merely made me feel profoundly weary.

Lady Chu.

The matters of the past are no longer things I wish to revisit.

A tear slipped down her cheek, tracing a path across her skin.

Yet I always feel that the reason you are like this now is entirely because of me.

When I fell ill and needed medicine, my aunt willingly gave it to me.

When I wept, everyone blamed you.

Ever since you entered the palace, Aunt often stares blankly toward your old courtyard, and Eldest Brother hardly speaks to me anymore.

Even Young Master Huo...

She paused. I finished the sentence for her.

He no longer visits you as frequently as he once did.

Chu Hanh Vu turned deathly pale. I closed my ledger with a soft snap.

Then Lady Chu ought to go and ask them.

Do not ask me.

I have already moved out of the Nguyen household, and I have stepped completely away from the entanglements between you all.

If you still feel uneasy, the question you should be asking yourself is not why I left.

Rather, you must consider where it is you truly stand.

She froze in astonishment. I did not linger. As I turned to leave, Huo Thanh Tu was standing not far away. He must have heard every word. I gave him a brief nod and prepared to walk past. Suddenly, his voice rang out.

Nguyen Tuan Van, is your heart truly this cold to everyone now?

I stopped in my tracks.

Young Master Huo, this is the imperial palace.

I am merely upholding the rules.

Pain flickered sharply in his eyes.

You were the one who always detested rules the most.

I looked straight at him.

People change.

He spoke in a hoarse murmur.

I dreamed of you.

My fingertips clenched tightly.

I dreamed of you trapped in that secluded courtyard of the Huo estate.

I dreamed that you were deathly ill.

I dreamed that I was standing by, helping Hanh Vu select red wedding candles.

His voice gradually frayed, growing rougher.

Someone came in my dream to report that you had drawn your final breath.

I said...

He did not continue. Yet I knew precisely what he had said. If she had come to her senses sooner, everyone would have been spared years of needless suffering. I looked at him, asking with absolute calmness.

Then, has Young Master Huo finally come to his senses now?

His face instantly turned the color of ash. I went on.

The Nguyen Tuan Van in that dream has already perished.

The Nguyen Tuan Van who remains in the palace still has ledgers that require auditing.

Please excuse me.

Huo Thanh Tu fell ill. This was the news Nguyen Thoi Tu conveyed to me in a letter. He wrote that upon returning from the spring banquet, Huo Thanh Tu was struck by a soaring fever, deliriously crying out my name in his sleep over and over again. After reading the letter, I calmly tucked it away. A fellow female scribe sharing my quarters glanced over and asked.

Official Nguyen, are you not going to send a reply?

I shook my head.

There is no need.

She let out a soft sigh.

Your heart is truly unyielding.

I smiled faintly. Being a little unyielding is for the best. Once you soften, people will simply trample you into dust. When April arrived, the palace ordered the renovation of the old storage warehouse. I was tasked with leading a group to take inventory of discarded curtains and aged wooden chests. The warehouse had remained sealed for years, accumulating thick layers of dust. The junior maids wrinkled their noses and complained, so I instructed them to first carry the chests outside into the sunlight. As we reached the very last storage bay, a section of the overhead wooden beam suddenly gave way. Before I could leap out of the way, a heavy shelf crashed down, pinning my arm. Pain blinded my vision, plunging everything into darkness. When I regained consciousness, I found myself in the annex of the Bureau of Palace Attendants. An imperial physician was wrapping my arm in bandages, and the senior matron serving the Empress was also present.

No bones are broken, only the tendons are strained. You will need to rest and recuperate for a time.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

The ledgers...

The matron laughed despite herself, a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

Her Majesty has already given word. Someone else has taken over the ledgers; focus entirely on healing your arm first.

I lowered my gaze to my right arm, completely swathed in tight white bandages, feeling a vague sense of emptiness. For the past three years, I had used this hand every single day to write characters, check accounts, and tally supplies. To suddenly be stripped of the ability to write left a gaping void within my chest. As dusk fell, Manh Hoai Chau came to visit me. By now, she had risen to become a female official of the Bureau of Ceremonial Etiquette, still wearing that characteristically stern expression.

I heard the very first question you asked upon waking was about the ledgers.

I felt a slight blush of embarrassment.

It is simply habit.

She placed a thick stack of account books beside my bed. My eyes lit up. Her voice remained cold.

Read them.

You are not permitted to write.

I smiled.

My thanks to you, Elder Sister Manh.

She stiffened instantly, and a faint blush crept up the tips of her ears.

Who is your elder sister?

With that, she turned and strode away. During these days of enforced rest, I paradoxically enjoyed a rare moment of peace. The Empress bestowed medicinal herbs upon me, and my grandmother even arranged for someone to deliver nourishing broths. Nguyen Thoi Tu personally submitted a petition to visit me within the palace walls. The moment we met, his brow furrowed deeply.

How is it that even inside the heavily guarded palace, you managed to get yourself crushed into this state?

I laughed softly.

It was merely an accident.