“Wan-wan, get up.”
The words burst from Deng Ying’s lips almost involuntarily.
Yang Wan lifted her head to look at Deng Ying. “If you won’t say it yourself, and you won’t let me say it, what do you want? Are you just going to foolishly keep it bottled up? Can’t you see how worried the teacher is about you?”
“I…”
Deng Ying stood helplessly behind Yang Wan. She reached back and tugged at the hem of his clothes. “Come here.”
Bai Huan also raised his hand toward him. “Come.”
Deng Ying hurriedly grasped Bai Huan’s hand, his jaw trembling slightly.
He had been exiled for so long – the ink in the study, the incense in the qin chamber, the poetry at literary gatherings – he could no longer touch any of it.
He had never resented anyone, always maintaining the boundaries that came with his status, staying far from the material world of the literati, and strictly limiting his clothing, food, and lodging. Even though the eunuchs in the Ceremonial Office now lived lives of luxury, taking in adopted sons in the court and upending the proper hierarchy while humiliating the educated class, he still kept to the boundaries of being a servant. He maintained his humility, upholding the precarious dignity that Yang Lun and others had preserved during the Zhenning era. Over these years, he had never imagined being accepted by these people again.
What he expected even less was that today, when he had originally brought Yang Wan to see Bai Huan, it would be Yang Wan who brought him before Bai Huan instead.
“Teacher Bai, since he won’t speak, may I speak for him?”
Bai Huan nodded.
“Thank you.”
After saying this, she turned back: “Little Deng Ying, come here and kneel properly.”
Hearing Yang Wan’s words, Deng Ying quietly knelt.
Yang Wan straightened up and looked directly at Bai Huan. “Teacher Bai, he has always been the Deng Fuling of those days, and he only wants to be that Deng Fuling. I could help him become a happier person, but I have no way to help him recover his original identity. Having no children or descendants is not such a great sorrow – having no father, no friends, and no mentor is what truly pains him. But he cannot say this. He fears that speaking of it would harm your dignity and his brother’s reputation. Teacher Bai has sealed his lips for so many years that he has become numb. Could you please speak first?”
After hearing these words, Bai Huan silently looked at Deng Ying.
Deng Ying knelt quietly with his head bowed, his shackles pooled beneath his knees, his gray clothes revealing the sharp angles of his young frame. Years of illness with only Yang Wan to care for him – if it had been Yang Lun, the entire school would have sent medicine and shown concern. But he had lived alone in a cold room by the moat, carrying on until now with no one to look after him.
Thinking of this, Bai Huan’s throat tightened with emotion. He reached out with a trembling hand, wanting to touch his student’s forehead, but he had knelt too far away and couldn’t quite reach.
“Deng Ying.”
“Ah?”
“Your head.”
Only then did Deng Ying bend forward and lean in.
When Bai Huan’s hand touched Deng Ying’s forehead, both of them trembled slightly.
Deng Ying remained silent, while Bai Huan spoke in a hoarse voice: “Fuling, you have suffered…”
Hearing these words, Yang Wan’s shoulders finally relaxed.
She said nothing more, lifting her skirts to stand and curling back into the corner, resting her chin on her knees as she listened to Bai Huan and Deng Ying talk.
In the prison cell, Bai Huan asked about Deng Ying’s health over the past two years – what medicines he had taken, which doctors he had seen, how he took care of himself during seasonal changes. Deng Ying sat before Bai Huan with clasped hands, answering docilely. Bai Huan then asked what books he was reading, if he had written anything, and said that if he had, he could bring it to the prison for him to read.
Yang Wan quietly recorded their conversation in her heart, gradually growing weary, until finally she fell asleep on the bedding.
“Get something to support her neck.”
Bai Huan turned to look at the sleeping Yang Wan with a smile. “She’s sleeping awkwardly. She’ll be sore when she wakes up.”
“Yes, I’ll make her a grass pillow.”
As he spoke, Deng Ying bent down to gather the rush mat grass, bundling it into a pillow. He stood and walked to Yang Wan’s side, reaching out to support her upper body.
Yang Wan was somewhat confused in her sleep, tilting her neck back and mumbling: “Deng Ying, don’t mess with me…”
Deng Ying’s ears reddened. “Wan-wan, I’m not messing with you.”
“You’re… touching my neck…”
“I’m not touching…”
As he spoke, Deng Ying looked awkwardly toward Bai Huan, but heard him say: “That jade pendant of green jade lotus that Master Zhang gave you – have you given it to her?”
Deng Ying looked back at Yang Wan and silently shook his head.
“Not giving it… might be for the best. I don’t think she’s an ordinary young lady.”
Deng Ying gently laid Yang Wan down and covered her body with the bedding, then turned back to Bai Huan and said: “Teacher, perhaps she really can save those students outside.”
“Do you trust her?”
Deng Ying looked down at Yang Wan’s sleeping face and nodded.
Yang Wan was jolted awake by the carriage bumping. When she opened her eyes, Deng Ying wasn’t in the carriage. She quickly sat up and reached to lift the curtain – cooking smoke filled the city as thousands of households lit their lamps.
Yang Wan rubbed her eyes and sighed: “It’s already this late.”
Qin Wende, who was driving the carriage, said: “Madam, tell me, how many days has it been since you’ve had a proper rest?”
Yang Wan stared blankly for a moment before reacting, “What did you call me?”
“What?”
“What did you just call me?”
“Ma… Madam.”