Chapter 8: Withering
"Indigo plumes, oceans overturned—how sever Peach Isle's lingering love? Longing greens the willow camp. Adrift alone, shadow companionless—letters severed by deep waters, futile sorrows linger. To end love, yet love persists…"
In the stifling wooden hut, amidst swirling steam, Xue Chongxun tilted his head and recited the lyrics of Endless Longing, a tune from the Jiaofangsi of Daming Palace. The captive beauty, Yuwen Ji, writhed beneath his paused touch, her flushed face a blend of shame and desperation. "Come back!" she pleaded.
Xue returned but withheld the caresses that had unraveled her soul. "Endless Longing," he murmured. "Do you feel it now?"
"Don't stop… like before," Yuwen Ji begged, cheeks blooming like peach blossoms in spring.
His hand traced her curves. "A rare flower, radiant virtue… soft bones, tender flesh. Smooth as jade…"
…
Steam thickened, sweat scalding, yet when Xue breached her maidenhood, her tears on his skin felt icy. "Will you marry me?" she asked dully.
Xue knew her passion had been fleeting instinct—now clinging to him as salvage. "This is playacting," he said coldly.
…
Cruelty: a shared sin, borne alone. Emerging from the hut, Yuwen Ji watched apricot petals swirl from the courtyard tree, withering mid-flight.
The carriage home carried a spy from Feng Yuanjun's household. Soon her shame would blaze. How to face her family, her betrothed?
Dusk cloaked Chang'an's alleys. Home—once safe—now loomed like a beast's maw. Even in Tang's liberal age, lost virtue damned a woman.
Returning, she found the courtyard swarmed with strangers. Feng Yuanjun, Vice Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices—short, purple-robed, eyes ablaze—confronted her. "Where were you?"
"Misty Pavilion. Your superior invited me."
"What transpired?"
"Nothing."
Her father, Yuwen Xiao—gaunt, weathered like a vagrant—stood silent.
"Nothing?" Feng snapped. "A midwife will examine you. She served the palace—no mistakes."
The midwife's verdict came: "Ruined. Rope marks… Jiaofangsi techniques."
Feng trembled with rage. "Remove your cap, Yuwen Xiao! Return to peddling!"
After Feng stormed out, Yuwen Ji knelt before her father. "I've shamed our house. Punish me."
The old man raised her gently. "My sins, not yours. Why suffer for me?"
"Let's abandon politics," she wept. "Return to tea trade, live honestly."
Yuwen Xiao's gaze hardened. "Feng won't allow it. Xue Chongxun's threat remains… but if we pivot to the Xue clan, under Princess Taiping's wing…"
Yuwen Ji recoiled. "Xue is heartless! He vowed never to wed me."
Her father pressed, "A duke, the princess's heir—would he scheme for you without fondness?"
"No! He's a monster!"
Yet as apricot petals settled like snow, Yuwen Ji's world dimmed—a flower crushed, its fragrance fleeting.