The sound of flowing water in the moat never ceased day or night.
On clear evenings without wind or rain, Deng Ying could almost hear its friction against the city walls.
After returning from the Ministry of Justice, he had wanted to lie down and sleep for a while, but he couldn’t sleep and didn’t even want to change his clothes.
He just sat quietly by the bed, cupping his hands around the only oil lamp before him.
“Knock knock.”
A knocking sound came from the door. Deng Ying looked up as a slender shadow flickered past the window screen.
Then he heard Yang Wan’s voice, “Deng Ying, it’s me.”
He clutched the bedding in his hands. Though he wanted to see Yang Wan, he didn’t want to show too much meaningless grief before her.
Fortunately, she only knocked once and didn’t press him further.
Silence fell inside and outside the door, with only the lazy cry of roosting birds from the roof.
It was late, and the wind by the river grew stronger. Shadows of weeping willows danced on the cold, gleaming surface of the water.
Not so different from a twenty-first-century city—cement and stone, each having their rhythms of life between day and night.
“Deng Ying.”
Yang Wan finally called to him, though her voice was hesitant, its trembling end notes like flickering flames, warm yet restrained.
“Um… I’m not sure how to handle this right now. If you feel I shouldn’t disturb you, just tell me, and I’ll leave. If you don’t mind, then I’ll stay a while longer.”
As she finished speaking, a cold wind caught in her throat, making her cough several times. Her face flushed red with embarrassment, and she had to turn away, bending down to cover her mouth and nose, trying not to cough too loudly.
The door behind her opened immediately, and a garment was gently draped over Yang Wan’s back.
Yang Wan looked up to see Deng Ying crouching before her with bent knees. After several days apart, he looked somewhat haggard, though it showed only in his eyes.
“I’ll get you some water.”
Yang Wan lowered her hands from her face and swallowed, waving him off, “No need, just got choked by the cold wind. I’ll be fine in a moment.”
Looking at the clothes on her shoulders, before she could say anything, he spoke, “This is newly made for spring. I’ve never worn it.”
Yang Wan heard this and smiled, pulling the garment closer around her shoulders as she stood up holding the door, “Who would mind when you’re such a clean person?”
When she said the word “clean,” Deng Ying didn’t know how to respond and unconsciously stepped back.
Yang Wan asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve just come from prison, and haven’t had time to clean up.”
Yang Wan tentatively gripped his sleeve, and seeing that he didn’t pull away, grasped his wrist through the fabric.
“Don’t think that way. Everyone has times when they’re mired in mud. If people were afraid to face others because they felt unclean, how cold would relationships between people become? How pitiful would those climbing out of the mire be?”
She looked up with a smile, its brightness all too familiar to Deng Ying.
All day he had used much strength but couldn’t pull himself from the mire of self-blame and grief. Fortunately, she had come to pull him out, even willing to smile at him despite his mud-covered state.
“Li Yu said you haven’t eaten all day.”
“You met him?”
Yang Wan nodded, “Yes, I think he’s good to have around. He’s young and doesn’t fully understand your situation, but he has a good heart.”
She turned to look toward the moat, “You must be hungry. I’ll make you some noodles.”
After saying this, she walked toward the river but didn’t let go of Deng Ying’s hand. The wound on his ankle had flared up in prison and hadn’t yet healed. When stepping on the stairs, it suddenly hurt badly. Though he didn’t stop, his feet hesitated. Yang Wan felt his pause and turned back to see him frowning in pain, “I forgot about your leg injury. Does it hurt badly?”
Deng Ying opened his eyes and shook his head, “I’ll have to get used to it.”
Yang Wan looked down at Deng Ying’s ankle, “I originally wanted to cook the noodles and bring them to you, but… Li Yu’s stove… I don’t know how to use it…”
As she spoke, a blush unconsciously crept across her face, and she quickly raised her hand to press down the flyaway hairs by her ears, laughing self-deprecatingly.
“At first I thought I knew everything, that if I wanted to, I could learn anything here. But in the end, I only learned to write a few characters in official documents.”
“It’s alright. Where is it?”
Yang Wan looked up to see Deng Ying smiling at her. The smile was faint but perfectly encompassed Yang Wan’s current unacknowledged embarrassment.
“Under that big willow tree by the river.”
She raised her other hand to point ahead.
Deng Ying looked up in the direction she indicated, “Then take me there.”
“Alright.”
Yang Wan led Deng Ying past rows of Directorate of Ceremonial offices. To accommodate his injured leg, she deliberately walked slowly.
The night shift workers hadn’t returned yet, and those off-duty were taking advantage of the quiet time to doze.
The stars were sparse but the moon was bright, the wind gentle, and all around was quiet.
Deng Ying dared not walk too close to Yang Wan, and could only raise his arm high to maintain distance between them.
The pair of lotus jade pendants Yang Wan wore gently clinked with her steps, making a pleasant sound against the background of flowing water.
“Deng Ying.”