Chapter 2 — Crossing the Moonlight at Khê Quân

Drenched in the wine I had poured over his head, he stood frozen, eyes wide and mouth agape, staring at me in disbelief. Having known me for over a decade, he had always perceived me as a gentle, patient soul. After a brief moment of shock, he finally erupted in fury:

"An He Jun, have you lost your mind?!"

I helped Nanny Chu settle back onto her bed. He seemed tempted to continue his tirade, but his gaze swept across the courtyard, and the realization that we stood within the City Lord’s manor checked his tongue. With a final, vicious grit of his teeth, he turned and stumbled away, the pungent stench of alcohol trailing in his wake. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him with a thunderous finality. I remained in the manor for several days to recover; the swelling in my ankle had subsided by more than half, though poor Nanny Chu, advanced in years, had suffered a more serious injury from her fall and remained bedridden. I sat by her side, holding a bowl of medicinal broth. She reached out, her palm calloused yet warm, and took my hand.

"My lady, I have watched you grow since you were small, and I know you to be a person of deep affection and loyalty. I saw how the young master of the Bui house treated you once, and I know how much you cared. But human hearts are fickle things. Now that he has that wretched girl by his side, he no longer has eyes for anyone else."

I lowered my gaze and nodded slowly. In truth, I knew it well. Ever since Bui Canh had brought Van Hoa back from the riverbank outside the city walls, I had sensed a subtle shift in the air. Because I had been mute since childhood, I had never made friends in Thuong Ninh city. Only Bui Canh had once said to me, "You don't need to speak; just use your signs. I understand you."

To converse with me, he had painstakingly learned sign language. Yet, since Van Hoa’s arrival, he had not signed a single complete sentence to me. "Van Hoa understands my words perfectly," he would say. "Talking to her is much more convenient."

Indeed. Van Hoa was glib and quick-witted; compared to me, she was undoubtedly more convenient. In my hands, I held a small wooden bird—a clumsily carved trinket with one wing larger than the other. It had taken Bui Canh two sleepless nights to finish, and it was the very first gift he had ever given me. I carefully placed the bird into a chest. Over the past few days, I had ordered my servants to collect every single item Bui Canh had given me throughout the years. It filled three large wooden crates perfectly.

When Van Hoa first arrived, I had tried to welcome her with an open heart. I thought that, as an orphan with no family, she was truly pitiable. If she were willing, having a sister-in-arms would be a blessing. I gifted her a gold hairpin, which she accepted with a bowed head, but no sooner had she turned away than she ran to Bui Canh with tear-rimmed eyes. "Does the mistress look down on me? Does she think me so poor and lowly that she must offer me such charity?"

When I gave her clothes, she would only clutch her hem tightly, remaining silent. When Bui Canh asked her what was wrong, she would finally let the tears fall. "I am but a servant girl; how could I possibly wear such fine, precious garments?"

I would rush to make signs to explain myself, but she would refuse to even look at me, closing her eyes and throwing herself into Bui Canh’s arms. Though Bui Canh did not scold me directly, he would frown and murmur, "A Jun, you are being unreasonable."

Whenever Bui Canh invited me out, Van Hoa would inevitably follow, the three of us walking together. They would walk side by side, laughing and talking, while I followed half a step behind in silence. Eventually, I stopped accepting his invitations altogether. One day before the Lantern Festival, Bui Canh suddenly visited the manor and presented me with a hairpin. My heart softened. I thought that after so many years of affection, perhaps if I gave him another chance, things could return to the way they once were. But at the lantern show, I discovered Van Hoa was there as well. She wore a hairpin identical to the one in my hair. She linked her arm with Bui Canh’s, smiling as she asked me, "Mistress, you aren't upset, are you? I was simply so lonely that I begged the young master to bring me along."

What was there left to say? I could only shake my head. Then, I spotted a rabbit-shaped lantern. Just as I reached out to touch it, Van Hoa spoke up. "What a coincidence! I like this one, too."

Even a clay figure has a limit to its patience. I was determined to have that lantern. The shopkeeper said one had to solve a riddle to win it. I was the first to guess the answer, so I tugged on Bui Canh’s sleeve and signed the answer to him. He understood. But he brushed my hand away. Then, he leaned in close to Van Hoa’s ear and whispered the answer to her instead. I had once believed that in this entire world, I had only one friend. Aside from him, I needed no one else. But he himself taught me a lesson: there comes a time when one must find the courage to let go completely.

The Prince of Vinh was coming to Thuong Ninh. I kept the young Heir by my side, helping to manage the arrangements for the welcoming banquet. When one is occupied, there is no room left for heartbreak. In a quiet moment, I instructed Xuan Am to take the three wooden chests—containing every piece of my past with him—and return them to the Bui estate. Less than half an hour later, Xuan Am returned, her eyes red and swollen.

"My lady," she said, her voice trembling. "Young Master Bui didn't even bother to look at them. He seems to think you are just playing a game of hard-to-get."

She bit her lip. "He ordered the servants to toss the chests out the gate. They shattered, and everything inside spilled onto the dirt. The servants just stood there, laughing at the mess."

At that moment, I was peeling an orange for the young Heir. I wiped my hands clean with a handkerchief and calmly signed: [The broken items—were they cleared away?]

Xuan Am froze, wiped her tears, and nodded. "They have been cleared."

By evening, Madam Bui arrived at the manor with an abundance of gifts, personally coming to offer an apology. I signed to the steward to refuse the guest. Then, I pointed to my own throat and shook my head. The steward understood immediately, bowed, and retreated. Xuan Am and Nanny Chu exchanged glances, their eyes filled with sorrow. They knew why I refused to see her. Madam Bui was a clever woman with a silver tongue, but she did not know the language of the hands.