In the council room, after Li Lu and Baowu left, the place became quiet. Huang Rang only felt the wheelchair turn, and she was once again facing the window.
Di Yiqiu still sat behind the desk, concentrating on sewing rabbit fur.
Outside, snow had begun falling at some unknown time—not heavily, like powder and salt, falling like fine rain.
Huang Rang stared out the window, recalling what Baowu had said earlier—that Xie Hongchen had sent people to inquire about the whereabouts of one of her younger sisters. Of course, he was looking for her, but Xie Hongchen was the kind of person who always concerned himself with the sect’s reputation.
The matter of his wife’s disappearance was not something he would publicize.
Outside the window, the falling snow rustled. Huang Rang began to drift into a daze, as if seeing the first snow at Qilu Terrace. Every year at this time, Bailu Pool would begin to freeze. She would often take bits of crushed ice to prepare exquisite delicacies for Xie Hongchen.
But Xie Hongchen didn’t actually come often. Those delicacies—sometimes she would have people send them to Dianicui Peak where he resided. More often, she would distribute them to the disciples below. Back then, the disciples of Yuhu Xuanzong looked forward to winter.
They would present all kinds of ingredients, asking their sect mistress to create various pastries and dishes.
Sometimes when disasters struck among the common people, Huang Rang would also lead disciples down the mountain to distribute porridge and medicine. These activities naturally spent Yuhu Xuanzong’s silver, while she earned a good reputation. So naturally Xie Hongchen wouldn’t look at her any differently for this, and might even feel annoyed.
It was just that he forcibly suppressed his displeasure—after all, what Huang Rang did ultimately helped quite a few people. It wasn’t anything bad.
Thus in everyone’s eyes, the sect master and sect mistress of Yuhu Xuanzong had always been deeply in love. Only Huang Rang knew of the contempt Xie Hongchen harbored in his heart. This was the ice wall between her and him, which eventually became an unspoken understanding between them.
If he didn’t come, she could not go invite him.
At Qilu Terrace, she could be seductive and charming, but outside Qilu Terrace, she had to be the dignified and proper sect mistress.
Dianicui Peak—she could not enter without reason.
Old memories yellowed page by page. After Huang Rang had been lost in thought for a while, Di Yiqiu had already pieced together several rabbit furs. He came before Huang Rang and draped the thin blanket sewn from rabbit fur over her legs. Huang Rang wasn’t actually cold, but there was a kind of cold called “Qiu Shifu thinks she’s cold.”
Di Yiqiu pushed her to the window and opened that pile of bottles and jars just bought today.
Earlier when Huang Rang had seen Li Lu bring them in, she hadn’t known what they were. Now as Di Yiqiu opened them and she caught their fragrance, she realized that this entire pile of things was actually rouge and powder!
Qiu Shifu pulled over a chair and sat down opposite her. Huang Rang watched helplessly as he opened a powder box, then took a teacup, added some water, and mixed the powder evenly.
“???” Huang Rang’s mind was full of question marks.
Then Di Yiqiu applied the mixed powder to her face.
What are you doing?! Huang Rang’s pupils quaked—that egg-white powder isn’t used like that!! Stop! You’re plastering a wall!
But Qiu Shifu worked very seriously.
So when he had applied all the colors from the powder box to Huang Rang’s face and examined his work for a moment, his body suddenly shook. Then he had someone bring hot water. When the servant brought in the hot water and glanced at Huang Rang, he was also startled into a daze.
Fortunately, his usual training held firm, and the basin didn’t drop to the ground.
Di Yiqiu wrung out a silk cloth and carefully washed Huang Rang’s face.
After washing it clean, the Jianzheng continued using rouge and powder to mix colors and paint.
Huang Rang’s heart was trembling, but she had no recourse! Most of the time, Di Yiqiu used his fingertips to pat on powder. Later, presumably finding it inconvenient, he picked up the writing brush on the table. There were thick and thin brushes, and he tried them all one by one.
This is my face!! Huang Rang was so angry her hands and feet went cold.
The Jianzheng had completed another masterpiece. He applied lip rouge, stood up, and solemnly examined Huang Rang’s face.
Huang Rang would bet anything that she saw the corners of Di Yiqiu’s mouth curve up—this damn bastard, he was smiling!
Though the servant beside them was bowing, he ultimately couldn’t hide his curiosity. He raised his head to glance at Huang Rang, then immediately lowered his head, his shoulders shaking wildly. Huang Rang had no recourse whatsoever.
Outside, the snow was growing heavier, and the ground was beginning to turn white.
A brazier burned in the room. Di Yiqiu washed her face again, then dipped rouge and applied it all over her face again. Finally, truly at his wit’s end, Qiu Shifu dipped his brush tip in lip rouge and drew three whisker marks on each side of Huang Rang’s mouth.
To salvage some dignity.
—I once had an old friend as damaging as you, and now the grass on his grave is fifteen feet tall.
Huang Rang could only curse away in her heart.
Sure enough, the Jianzheng was learning makeup by the window. After busying himself industriously all afternoon, he called for the tool-person maid who had done her hair last time.
That maid, her lips twitching, re-did Huang Rang’s makeup. The Jianzheng held a cup of hot tea, sitting beside to observe. Huang Rang felt this person was quite bored, truly.
The capital, inner city. Duke Zhongguo’s manor.
Duke Zhongguo was a veteran minister at court who had always followed Shi Wenyu in conquering the realm. Now that Shi Wenyu was obsessed with longevity arts, he showed him considerable favor. Thus although he was already one hundred and twenty years old, he only looked about sixty.
He was someone who had been on the battlefield. Though he had laid down his arms for many years, his bearing remained upright.
He practiced a set of boxing forms in the courtyard, his punches still vigorous and powerful. Duke Zhongguo was very satisfied.
Suddenly, he felt his head grow dizzy, and a person was already standing before him.
This person wore white like clouds, with a water-blue collar guard and a jade-fastened waist sash. He nodded slightly toward Duke Zhongguo and said gently, “Duke, it has been a while.”
“You…” Duke Zhongguo only felt brilliant colors before his eyes and involuntarily stepped back two paces, then suddenly realized, “Xie Hongchen!”
Indeed, this person was none other than Yuhu Xuanzong’s sect master, Xie Hongchen!
Duke Zhongguo had once protected Shi Wenyu and had visited the immortal sect.
His heart sank, and he instinctively wanted to alert the guards. But he quickly stopped himself from acting rashly. Standing opposite him was Xie Hongchen—what use would his courtyard full of guards be? He simply asked, “Sect Master Xie is an immortal master beyond worldly affairs. What instruction brings you to this humble residence today?”
As he spoke, he carefully observed this paramount figure of the immortal gate. The last time he’d seen him was forty years ago. Forty years of rain, snow, wind, and frost, yet he hadn’t aged even slightly. Still twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with peerless elegance.
He’d heard that these people from the immortal gates had lifespans of easily a thousand or eight hundred years. No wonder His Majesty coveted this so desperately, obsessed and crazed. Duke Zhongguo thought silently.