Chapter 3 My Husband is Back

The war dragged on through the entire winter, and the Northern Rong tribes finally retreated when the weather warmed. But Yu Beiguo's whereabouts remained as elusive as a kite with its string severed. Mother-in-law's eyes reddened from weeping, her hands constantly clutching the copper lock her son had left before enlisting. Every day, she added three incense sticks to the ancestral altar.

I gritted my teeth and tended to the silkworms, my fingers sliced raw by mulberry leaves. The late spring chill had stunted the silkworms, their cocoons as thin as cicada wings. Just as my earnings dwindled, Fan Guangzong passed the imperial examination, his family's celebration lasting seven days. Their horns shook the papered windows, and the procession of congratulations my door thrice, the newly minted scholar's crimson sash fluttering mockingly from his sedan.

he day Yu Beijing returned on leave, he found the Fan family's festivities in full swing. Without a word, he shut the vermilion gate and joined me in the silkworm shed. "Don't worry, sister-in-law," he said, his voice hoarse as he examined a dead silkworm, "If worst comes to worst, I'll tend these silkworms with you for life. It's still honoring brother's legacy."

I lashed his back with a mulberry branch. "You're destined for greater things than this!" He spun around, seizing my wrist with a grip like hot iron. "If brother doesn't return, I'll be the family's pillar." Our eyes locked as wind chimes on the eaves tinkled, startling a pair of swallows nesting in the rafters.

Fan Guangzong's triumph proved fleeting. A cheating scandal invalidated the entire prefecture's exam results. Yu Beijing, having missed the ill-fated exam while caring for me, emerged as the unimpeachable Jieyuan. News of his success found him crouched by the silkworm trays, reciting Qi Min Yao Shu by candlelight. "The deadliest poison in this world," he murmured, shadows deepening under his brow, "is human ambition."

Moving to the provincial capital, our cart was accompanied by drums and cymbals as the entire village bid farewell. The Fans kept their doors shut. From the cart, I gazed back at the home where I'd suffered. Yu Beijing leaned over to brush snow from my shoulder. "The plum blossoms are blooming at our new home," he said.

Life in the city was honeyed but bittersweet. Matchmakers' proposals flooded our doorstep, overwhelming Mother-in-law. Yu Beijing repeatedly refused, citing his brother's absence—until one night, I caught him burying a sachet I'd embroidered at Beiguo's .

"Yuniang," he said abruptly, taking my calloused hand one evening, "If I become the Zhuangyuan, would you be my wife?" I recoiled, spilling angelica roots from my basket. He laughed hollowly. "Just jesting." As he turned, moonlight revealed the flush beneath his ear.

The day Old Doctor accepted me as his apprentice, Yu Beijing was poring over Collected Cases of Injustice Rectified. "With your medical skills," he mused, "you'll make an excellent assistant when I preside over trials." His brush paused over the character for coroner, ink pooling into a dark stain.

When the capital's invitation arrived, Yu Beijing fell gravely ill. By his bedside, I boiled herbs as he murmured deliriously, "That mountain fire… your back was so hot when you carried me down." My hand trembled, spilling medicine across his moon-white tunic.

The night before departure, Mother-in-law squeezed my hand. "Beijing has always been stubborn," she said. Through the flickering candlelight, I saw Yu Beijing standing in the corridor, his robes billowing like a crane ready to take flight.