Falling Dreams Of Fang Hua

Chapter 62

And yet, why were things so sorrowful?
Because love was demanding.

—

After that day, I fell ill for a month. Luckily, Nongyu's medical skills were brilliant enough to snatch back my life. Under his care, my broken body became as doughty as a dragon and lively as a tiger[1]. Because of urgent matters, Little Li had to return to the palace, but it was for the best. If he could convince the expectant Han Zichuan to give up on me, it'd be even better. The sentiment-injured Fang Hua wood was now red and would take human form soon, so Han Zichuan would never get his poison resistant wood again.

As we entered winter, the first snow fell. When my sickness was just about gone, Nongyu became absent-minded. He never fully recovered from the shock of seeing the spirit of Fang Hua that day. When I urged him to leave the mountain, he obediently agreed. The day he left, he left me many, many different medicines. That mess of bottles and containers of pills were both strange and familiar...many of the most precious pills I recognized as works by Second and Third. Who knew how they were doing now...but those things had nothing to do with me. Without a good-for-nothing master like me, who didn't know how to do anything, their lives would probably be much better.

After Nongyu left the mountain, I sealed up all paths leading in. There were too many people in the world who'd want to peek at the Fang Hua wood. I just wanted to use my remaining time to stay by his side and live together.

—

Today was very warm. I bent over the bed to slip on my shoes, open the doors, and bathed my body under the winter sunshine, feeling strange. Much of the snow outside seemed to have thawed. I gave a lazy stretch and warmed myself up before setting to work.

Beneath the Wutong tree in the courtyard was buried the wine Fang Hua and I made together last time. He loved to drink when he was alive. With winter so cold, it must be unbearable for him, so I should bring some to satisfy his craving. Otherwise he'd get mad at me again. My lips curled into a smile. "Shào'er, do you know where we put the shovel?"

As soon as I spoke, I fell in a daze.

Around me, all was still beyond the glittering snow. It was awhile before I recovered my senses. The parrot had disappeared after telling me Fang Hua was buried at the yellow earth hill. I squatted on the ground, burying my head in my knees, and gave a quiet, helpless smile. So living by yourself really could get lonely. It was already hard for me to get used to one day, so how did Fang Hua survive for five years? The cold wind made me sneeze, so I rose to my feet to rub my face with my sleeves. I puffed a breath into my hands before rubbing them together.

"That's enough of that. Time to find the shovel before Fang Hua gets anxious from waiting."

I stopped outside one of the rooms on the west side, spotting a lock on the door. I scratched my head before circulating qi in my abdominal region and striking out with my hand. Dust splattered all over my face, but the force from my palm smashed the lock into countless tiny pieces until it ceased to exist. A breeze slipped out between the door cracks before it creaked open. I walked ignorantly, trying to feel my way about. Before my eyes, there was a scroll after scroll of high quality xuan[2] paper hanging from the rafters. A few rays of sunlight shone down...illuminating floating dust motes in the air...

I raised my head.

All of the hanging papers followed the same pattern, with the same person painted on each one. As the wind swayed the paintings, the person on the paper seemed to waver between crying and smiling. Unabashedly clever and good-looking, a little shameless...she was a woman dressed in men's robes. The smile on her face flickered as I turned my body to look around in a circle, eyes filled with the images of this person called Shao Ye[3]. At that moment, my heart clenched into a small, hard rock, leaping wildly as it was suddenly attacked by a fit of melancholy. I raised my hand to wipe my face but couldn't stop my tears, which kept falling until they soaked my fingers.