Chapter 7 — I Never Made It to Nam Thanh With You

Through the partially opened, ornately carved window, I watched her standing beneath the moon-gate at the West Courtyard. She was dressed in a long gown of pale, lunar-white silk. Her long hair was pinned up, adorned with the crescent moon hairpin that had belonged to my grandmother. Yan-Li stood directly before her, his head bowed as he gently smoothed the stray locks of hair away from her face. Wan-Ning looked up at him, her eyes still shimmering with the lingering redness of fresh tears. Behind them stood that circular window—a design I had drafted with my own hands, though it seemed Yan-Li had long since forgotten that detail. I had once stated clearly: nothing of mine was to be touched without my permission.

When I stepped into the West Courtyard, Wan-Ning was the first to see me. The smile on her face froze instantly. Yan-Li followed her gaze and turned, his hand still lingering near her temple.

Jian-Yue?

He pulled his hand back by reflex, as if terrified that I might misunderstand. But I no longer cared. My eyes remained fixed on the hairpin resting in her hair.

Take it off.

Wan-Ning reached up to cradle her hair, her expression turning deeply unpleasant. What?

That is an heirloom from my grandmother. Who gave you permission to wear it?

Wan-Ning looked toward Yan-Li, who stepped forward to stand by her side. I gave it to her, he said. We are just taking a few photographs. I will return it once we are finished.

I nodded curtly. Then return it now.

His brow furrowed tightly. We have not finished the shoot yet. Wan-Ning has been preparing for this set for a long time. Her hairpin and dress are perfectly coordinated; changing her accessories halfway through will ruin the artistic effect.

In my previous life, he had been exactly the same. Whenever Wan-Ning had a need, my belongings were taken at whim. My rooms were surrendered to her; my designs were gifted to her; and my husband was available to comfort her whenever she felt a flicker of sadness. All because she had prepared for so long, or because she simply could not bear to be disappointed. I walked directly up to Wan-Ning. She did not move.

Jian-Yue, it is just a hairpin. Yan-Li said you would not mind, which is why I wore it. If you are truly unhappy, I will return it to you immediately after the shoot.

She spoke with a pitiable tone, as if my demand to reclaim my own property was a deliberate attempt to humiliate her.

I do mind. I held out my hand. Give it back now.

Wan-Ning’s eyes began to well with tears. Are you still holding a grudge against me for that summer camp spot? It was yours, after all; I could not have possibly stolen it. Why do you keep targeting me?

I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. You take my property and put it on your own head, and when I ask for it back, I am targeting you? Wan-Ning, do you truly believe that if you cry, other people’s belongings naturally become yours?

Her face turned deathly pale. Yan-Li’s voice dropped into a low, warning tone. Jian-Yue, that is enough. She did not know that hairpin was so important to you.

She did not know, and so I am telling her now, I replied. Now that she knows, she must return it.

I stopped wasting words on them. Reaching out, I plucked the crescent moon hairpin from her hair myself. Wan-Ning tried to flinch away, but Yan-Li gripped her shoulders, likely fearing that a sudden movement might damage the delicate piece. Once I had retrieved it, he immediately bowed his head to check her hair. Did that hurt you?

Wan-Ning shook her head, tears falling in earnest now. I wiped the hairpin clean and tucked it into the velvet pouch I carried with me. I felt no heartbreak, no anger. I only felt that my past self had been utterly ridiculous. I had guarded this hairpin for over twenty years, yet I could not save my own life. This time, I would not leave anything of mine behind in the Gu household.

Where are the measurement sketches? I asked, turning to Yan-Li.

He looked up, stunned.