Chapter 71: If Two Hearts Are Meant to Last Forever

Chapter 71: If Love Were to Last for a Long Time

During the evening meal.

Pei Manlu sighed and lamented, her thoughts ever troubled.

At one moment, she muttered about how tiresome it would be to return home, for the elderly shamans in the clan would surely arrange her marriage, something she detested.

At another, she pressed for an answer, her voice tinged with urgency—Xiao Honghong, you must return quickly, won’t you?

Yet the name most often spoken was Chen Yi’s, for she still wished to remain by her elder brother’s side, eager to see what adventures awaited them.

These words, however, passed over Xiao Honghong’s ears like autumn leaves. She ate her meal in silence, then led Su Zhimeng back to the wooden pavilion.

In passing, she extended her hand, gently guiding Pei Manlu along. The tiger cub stood before her, eyes wide with sorrow, her arms too frail to pull away, and so she trailed behind, defeated.

“Oh, elder brother… tomorrow I’ll return, won’t I? I don’t want to go…”

Chen Yi heard nothing of her inner plea. Even if he had, the presence of the matriarch nearby would have silenced him.

After all, he and Pei Manlu were bound together like reeds in a storm, easily swept aside by a single finger of Xiao Honghong.

When the evening meal concluded, Xiao Duo Duo served Xiao Gun first, then set about tidying the chambers, both inside and out, while recounting the latest happenings in the manor and beyond.

Chen Yi remained seated beneath the pavilion, leafing through the pharmacy records penned by Xiao Wan’er, occasionally nodding in agreement with a line or two.

To him, these so-called “happenings” scarcely merited mention.

It was merely his own calligraphy, the eccentric scholars of Fei Yun Academy, and the duxedoctor’s swift appointment to office—matters he had long anticipated.

Instead, the contents of the pharmacy records struck him as refreshingly new.

Xiao’s family maintained five pharmacies across Shu Zhou, two within the capital city, the rest scattered in the northern county town.

“Salvation Pharmacy” stood in the eastern market district, not far from the stalls where the vulgar slavers had once auctioned barbarians to the highest bidder.

Most days, it catered to the mountain folk and outsiders seeking treatment, or those eking out a living there.

These outsiders, as Wei Yu observed, were hardly reputable, leaving the former manager ample room to exploit them.

For instance, a common remedy for wind-cold might normally fetch ten coins, yet Wang Ji, the current steward, could mark it up to a hundred.

That much was forgivable.

Yet if he charged the standard price, matching his peers, Xiao Wan’er would merely scold him twice and move on.

But when he undercut himself by ten coins, pocketing nine, no good could come of it.

After reviewing several ledgers, Chen Yi grasped the pharmacy’s operations.

In truth, little required his attention. Physicians oversaw diagnoses and herb procurement; an accountant managed the books.

He need only audit the records, procure daily supplies, and ensure the pharmacy’s smooth functioning—much like a seasoned manager.

Thus, his sense of novelty evaporated, replaced by the mundane tedium of bureaucracy.

“A good horse avoids eating its own pasture; I shan’t waste my strength on this again.”

He knew his nature—either not at all, or fully.

Should he set his sights on expanding Salvation Pharmacy, he could surely brook no expense in spreading it across all of Dali.

Along the way, he’d even craft a couplet to hang above its entrance:

Left: *“Hanging Gourd, Saving the World”*

Right: *“No Money, Do Not Come.”*

And the proclamations he’d dispatch far and wide—*“Salvation Pharmacy: A blessing for men, women, the elderly, and children alike.”*

Yet all such thoughts remained confined to his mind.

Should he pursue such schemes, physicians across Dali would scour their backsides, cursing and scolding:

*“Boiling mithridate in water, stewed jujubes in water, dog-skin ointment—these are mere trinkets! You dare sell them for a couple coins?!”*

Thinking of such wrath, Chen Yi found himself smiling.

Life, after all, was a matter of will and consequence. Who could truly be a man of integrity?

At that moment, Xiao Duo Duo, having finished her tedious recounting, noticed his smile and chimed in:

“Master, do you find it amusing when the academy’s scholars grow furious over the students’ copying of calligraphy?”

Chen Yi nodded. “Copying script is a meticulous task; mistakes are inevitable at first.”

“Indeed, they pale beside your skill.”

“Don’t speak of such things aloud.”

The master and servant lingered in idle chat.

Night deepened unnoticed.

The summer breeze carried a humid warmth, swirling from all directions.

Mosquitoes buzzed around them incessantly.

Chen Yi, however, paid them no heed. His meridians and bones were honed, and the Wu Xing Suppression Technique sealed his pores, rendering the bites harmless.

Xiao Duo Duo, meanwhile, wielded her fan frantically, her wrists swelling with bites.

Seeing her scratch at her lip, he chuckled and bid her rest first.

She obeyed, fanning herself as she walked, lest she bring the pests back to the pavilion.

Alone, Chen Yi rose, stretched his limbs, and let out a soft *pish* as he moved.

The breeze felt refreshing.

It was then that the door to the pavilion opened, and Xiao Honghong emerged, her steps steady and unwavering.

When she reached him, her face bore that half-mask of armor, her expression calm and gentle.

“Chen Yi,” she said simply.

He bowed slightly. “When do you depart?”

She stood beside him, her voice clear and softened by an uncharacteristic warmth.

“At the cock’s crow.”

Her mood was light.

He settled at the stone table, his tone casual.

“The elder sister mentioned the intermarket negotiations. She said they brought in quite a sum.”

Xiao Honghong nodded, her gaze distant.

“Grandfather feared the mountain clans might grow resentful if we spent too freely.”

Chen Yi inclined his head.

It seemed the Xiao family had indeed considered such matters.

Perhaps out of guilt, or to smooth things over, Xiao Honghong added:

“Originally, I intended to linger in the capital longer.

But these negotiations with the mountain clans are too critical—I must oversee them personally.”

“It takes a couple of months at most, or three or five months in the end, before I can return.”

Chen Yi, catching the meaning in her words, smiled and said, “Indeed, this matter is of great importance; it should be handled with due care.”

Xiao Jinghong glanced at him, yet could tell his words were not mere words.

She felt a measure of relief in her heart, and then asked about the others, “Has your eldest sister mentioned where the arrangements lie?”

Chen Yi pointed to the bundles of papers on the table, “The proprietor of the Jishiyao Hall.”

Xiao Jinghong skimmed through them, not quite understanding these matters, and said no more, “I have already spoken with grandfather, Second Uncle, and Second Uncle, and they have agreed to let you off the hook.”

Chen Yi smiled, “Thank you.”

Thus, his lingering worries were resolved.

So he need not fear being barred from the mansion in the future.

Yet, upon hearing his words, Xiao Jinghong’s eyes turned slightly toward him, and she said, “If not, might you send me a piece of calligraphy as a token of gratitude?”

Chen Yi thought it over and did not refuse, nodding and asking, “Do you intend to present it to the mountain people as a gift, or?”

Xiao Jinghong’s eyes flashed, and she whispered, “Keep it for myself.”

Chen Yi was taken aback, clearly unprepared for her response.

sensing his gaze, Xiao Jinghong slightly lowered her head, and her water-like eyes trembled a little.

“In a few months’ time, when I return, I may feel a stranger toward you.”

She was not one to forget.

Yet her present identity and duties made it hard for her to focus on the length of her daughters’ lives.

Occasionally, she would think, when her husband inherits the marquisate without the need for arms, and retires to her home to live with her husband, it would not be bad.

Chen Yi did not think so far ahead.

Yet these days, as he and Xiao Jinghong grew accustomed to each other’s company, though there had been little progress, they were, on the whole, not unpleasant.

A moment of silence.

Chen Yi rose and went to the study to fetch ink, paper, and an inkstone, spreading the cloud pine paper.

Xiao Jinghong sat nearby, conscientiously pouring water and grinding ink.

Bathing in the moonlight and candlelight, their elongated shadows swayed and intertwined, at times overlapping, at times separate.

Chen Yi gazed at her for a moment, and resolved in his heart what he ought to write.

When the ink was properly mixed, he took up his brush and wrote, “Magpie Bridge Immortal.”

Then, with swift strokes, he wove the qi and spirit, visible and hidden, stirring the earth and heaven’s vitality, each character blooming with fragrance:

“Delicate clouds, a shooting star, a lingering grief, the silver stream passing in darkness.”

“A meeting of golden wind and jade dew—how could it compare to the myriad joys of the human world?”

“Gentle as water, a meeting as sweet as a dream, enduring the long journey across the magpie bridge.”

“If two hearts endure long together, how could they be bound by every dawn and dusk?”

Xiao Jinghong had been watching him, but as the first character’s brilliance appeared, she paid no further heed, her bright eyes fixed on the cloud pine paper, silently reciting each character as it bloomed.

Until the end, her heart held but one word: “Beautiful.”

Not beautiful in her, but in this poem.

And the one who wrote it… how could she find it any less foreign?

(End of Chapter)