Chapter 6 — A Lifetime's Delayed Longing

Seeing that I could still manage a smile, his expression darkened even further.

Huo Qingci knows about it as well.

I lowered my gaze.

Oh.

He said he wanted to see you.

Not seeing him.

Nguyen Thoi Tu nodded.

I knew you would say that.

He seated himself, then spoke out of the blue.

Tang Van, was what Huo Qingci saw in his dream actually true?

I remained silent. He looked down at my bandaged hand, his voice dropping an octave.

I dreamed of it too.

I snapped my head up. The corners of Nguyen Thoi Tu’s eyes were slightly red.

I dreamed that you died in that remote, dilapidated courtyard of the Huo family.

And I did not come.

I merely sent someone to deliver a roll of straw matting.

His voice was hoarse to the point of breaking.

When I woke up, my hands were still shaking.

How could I have ever done such a thing?

I stared at him. The consuming resentment of my past life surged like a sudden tide, only to slowly recede into the depths once more.

Elder brother.

If things had reached that point in reality, you might not have been able to make it in time anyway.

He froze. I continued softly.

Perhaps it was not that you lacked the desire to come.

It was simply that everyone assumed you wished nothing to do with me.

Tears instantly spilled from Nguyen Thoi Tu’s eyes. He raised a hand to cover his face.

Tang Van, I failed you.

My own eyes grew hot.

Not in this lifetime.

In this lifetime, elder brother came to escort me into the palace, brought me plum blossom pastries, and even beat up Huo Qingci on my behalf.

My words left him alternating between tears and laughter.

Does that even count?

It counts.

He lowered his head, remaining silent for a long time before finally speaking.

Then everything henceforth shall count as well.

I nodded.

Very well.

In the end, Huo Qingci never got to see me. Upon learning that he had spent two hours waiting outside the palace gates, the empress merely gave a calm instruction.

Lady Nguyen’s hand is injured and requires proper rest.

Tell the young lord of the Huo family to return home.

When the senior attendant passed along these words, I was using my left hand to turn the pages of a ledger. Turning them very slowly. The attendant remarked.

When the young lord Huo left, his face was as pale as a ghost.

I kept my eyes fixed on the ledgers.

Mm.

The attendant glanced at me sideways.

Does it not pain your heart?

I pondered the question for a moment.

It pains my heart for myself far more.

The attendant chuckled.

That is how it should be.

For a full month, I nursed my hand. On the very day I was finally able to hold a brush again, Meng Huaizhou personally watched me write half a page of characters.

Acceptable.

I smiled and replied.

Is that all it is? Merely acceptable?

Your handwriting is uglier than before.

Sister Meng.

She frowned slightly.

Do not act like a spoiled child with me.

I was momentarily stunned. Acting like a spoiled child. That phrase felt worlds away from me now. In the past, I used to act spoiled in front of my mother, my elder brother, and Huo Qingci. Yet whenever I did, they invariably ended up viewing me as unreasonable and troublesome. But now, Meng Huaizhou’s reprimand carried no trace of aversion. It sounded merely as though she thought my clumsiness was slowing down the auditing of the ledgers. I lowered my head and smiled.

Understood.

As summer arrived, the empress transferred me to the Bureau of Palace Attendants to assist Meng Huaizhou in managing the ritual vessels for the imperial banquets. This was, in essence, a promotion. On the day I packed my belongings and left the Department of Personnel, the female officials sharing my room wrapped up various pastries for me to take along. Some wept, while others smiled. It was only then that I realized I actually had friends. These bonds were not forged through vicious contention, nor were they won by throwing tantrums. They were built day by day, enduring endless ledgers together, trimming the wicks of oil lamps late into the night, and sharing simple cakes—accumulated bit by bit. By the seventh month, So Hanh Vu departed from the Nguyen household. She did not marry Huo Qingci. Nor did she choose to remain in the capital. According to a letter sent by my grandmother, she went to stay with an aunt in the southern provinces. Before leaving, she left a letter for me. It was quite thick. After opening and reading it through, I sat in silence for a very long time. In the letter, she confessed that during her years of living under the roof of the Nguyen family as a dependent, she had lived in constant terror. She feared being cast out, feared that her illnesses would become a burden to others, feared that I would detest her, and feared that one day my mother’s pity would be withdrawn. Thus, she learned how to weep, how to yield, how to conceal her own desires while subtly manipulating others into willingly offering things to her. She wrote that this did not make her innocent. It was merely that she had lacked the courage to admit it to herself. At the very end, she penned these lines:

Tang Van, I owe you an apology.

And I owe myself a path that does not rely on the mercy of others.

I am going south to recover my health and learn how to make my own living.

I placed the letter inside a wooden box. I did not write a reply. Yet on that very day, I had someone dispatch a case of common throat lozenges, frequently used within the palace, to the southern provinces. The sender’s name was simply listed as the Palace Bureau. There was no mention of Nguyen Tang Van. Huo Qingci came seeking me once more. This time, it occurred while I was on an imperial errand outside the palace to procure ritual items. He stood outside a merchant’s shop, looking as though he had been waiting for a considerable while. Two junior female attendants accompanied me. Observing proper etiquette, he did not approach too closely.

Lady Nguyen.

I returned the courtesy.

Young Lord Huo.

He gazed at me, his eyes brimming with unspoken words. In the end, he asked only a single question.

Is your hand fully healed?

It is.

That is good.

Having said that, he surprisingly made no move to block my path further. I felt a slight surge of astonishment. His voice dropped low.

Hing Vu has left.

I nodded.

I heard as much.

I did not stop her.

Mm.

He stared out at the bustling flow of pedestrians in the street.

Lately, I have often wondered what might have happened if you had never entered the palace.

I did not take up the thread of conversation. He answered his own question.

It likely would have resulted in yet another disaster.

I looked at him. The corners of his eyes were faintly red, yet he managed a faint, bittersweet smile.

You were right to leave.

Nguyen Tang Van, you were entirely right to leave.

A ripple stirred in the depths of my heart. It was not a feeling of being moved. Rather, it was the realization that the cold, detached Huo Qingci from my dream—the one who had cruelly told me I should have figured things out sooner—had finally learned to speak with a touch of human warmth. He withdrew a small wooden box from his sleeve. I did not reach out to take it. His voice was subdued.