Chapter 4 — The Crimson Bloom of Ill-Fated Ties

We divided the safflower infusion into two bowls, topping them with warm water, watching the breath of mortality bloom slowly within the porcelain. Concubine Chu lifted her bowl, her hands trembling violently.

"Together."

I spoke the word. We both tilted our heads back and poured the draught down our throats. It was bitter, astringent, a metallic, earthen stench rising from my gullet to the very crown of my head. I choked on a mouthful, gripping the corner of the table as I coughed until my lungs burned. Looking toward Concubine Chu, I saw her suffering the same wretched agony.

"Go, quickly."

My lower abdomen began to tighten and harden. I pulled her toward the street. A fine drizzle was falling; I walked with one arm cradled around my stomach. The pain surged, wave upon wave, as if a spectral hand had reached inside my very being, twisting and wringing with cruel precision. Cold sweat drenched my brow, and my legs turned to jelly. I gripped Concubine Chu’s arm, my steps faltering and sliding. I stumbled, and we both collapsed onto the muddy ground. In that moment of impact, the familiar voice erupted once more into the air. A heart-rending cry burst forth from deep within my womb, piercing my ears, invading my brain, and vibrating against every marrow-filled bone. Then, the voice shifted. A girl’s wail—sharp, agonizing, tearing at the soul. Then the boy’s voice returned, cursing, his tone morphing from the innocence of childhood into the harsh, guttural roar of a grown man.

"Damn you, you two poisonous hags! You truly dared to lay hands on me!"

"You dare to kill me? I can always come back! Just you wait! I will keep on waiting!"

"Do you think avoiding me for three years is enough? I can wait three years, ten years, thirty years! I will—"

The shouting grew louder and more frantic, so loud I feared the entire street could hear. Then, the curses were replaced by a sharp, wretched shriek. I felt a jagged stone on the ground and pressed it hard against my abdomen. A wave of gut-wrenching agony surged upward. I felt a sudden warmth between my thighs; darkness clouded my vision, and I collapsed into a heavy, silent heap. The voice of Zhang Wenzhao drifted from cursing to moaning, from moaning to ragged, broken breaths—and finally, it vanished entirely. I closed my eyes, letting the rain lash against my hair. The boulder that had pressed upon my heart for so long had finally crumbled away.

When I opened my eyes, I was beneath the familiar canopy of my bed, the scent of home filling my nostrils. Willow stood by the bedside, her eyes rimmed with red. Seeing me wake, she rushed forward.

"Mistress! You frightened me to death!"

"Where is Concubine Chu?" I asked, my voice raspy.

"The concubine is resting as well."

"And the child?"

Willow’s expression faltered; she dared not look me in the eye. "Mistress, the child... the child is gone. The Master is on his way back, and the house has already sent word."

I touched my stomach. It was flat, soft, and empty, as if nothing had ever taken root there. The air was perfectly still, save for the patter of rain against the window and the muffled sobs of the maidservants. I struggled to climb out of bed. Willow reached out to steady me, but I brushed her off, walking slowly toward the door. Concubine Chu emerged from the room across the hall at the same time. We locked eyes. In a single glance, everything was understood. We were safe. Both of us were safe.

Yet, something felt amiss. That night, I tossed and turned, unable to find sleep. Everything was clearly over. The safflower had done its work, the cursed burden had been expelled, and my womb was hollow—no heartbeat, no phantom cries. But my heart felt as though a sword were suspended by a single thread above it. A dull, lingering numbness persisted, a nameless unease I could not shake.

Just then, a soft knock sounded at the door. A figure cloaked in black slipped inside, carrying no lantern. I lit a candle and peered closely, surprised to see it was Concubine Chu.

"It is you?" I asked, startled.

"You feel it too, don’t you? That something is not right?"

She scanned the room as if confirming we were alone. I nodded, though I did not know where to begin. She coughed softly.

"I have always felt there were lingering questions regarding that case from years ago."

"What questions?"

"Do you remember how things were in the courtroom back then?"

I tried to recall. Zhang Wenzhao had knelt on the right, exhausting every possible sophistry. From the motive of the murder to the time of the crime, he had spun lie after lie. It was only when the Master exposed his fabrications one by one that he finally collapsed to the floor in defeat. And Yun Shi—that mistress—kneeling behind him. From beginning to end, she had uttered only a single phrase, "This woman pleads guilty," her voice as faint as the humming of a gnat; she hadn't dared to lift her head even once.

"Do you remember the connection between those four?" she pressed.

Of course I remembered. Two families living in seclusion deep within the mountains, a total of four people. Zhang Wenzhao and Yun Shi’s husband were friends, both having wives. No one expected those two adulterers to set their eyes upon each other and conspire to murder the husband... I stopped mid-sentence. Zhang Wenzhao’s wife. Where had that woman, who had nearly vanished from the accounts of the case, actually gone? At the time, the Master had only discovered that she hailed from a family of sorcerers and had set off on a pilgrimage before the crime had taken place.