Don’t disappoint your soulmate
Two dark coffins were secretly brought into a noodle shop overnight.
Yu Jinnian looked down at Bai Haitang lying in one of the coffins and thought to himself that his worst fear had come true. The disparity between an actor and a scholar was always there. Bai Haitang had always been sensitive, viewing himself as inferior. Later, he contracted a shameful illness, syphilis, which drove him further into an inescapable state of fear and depression.
Yu Jinnian had always worried that Bai Haitang wouldn’t be able to come to terms with his situation, fearing that he might end up caught in his own thoughts. But no one expected that in the end, Bai Haitang, who seemed to have resigned himself to his fate, would choose this path.
When Duan Ming helped move the coffins inside, a splinter from the wood pierced his hand, and Yu Jinnian immediately forbade him from touching Bai Haitang any further. Instead, Duan Ming shifted his focus to moving Su Ting, who was still unconscious. During the process, something slipped from Su Ting’s waist.
It was a small medicine bottle.
The bottle fell to the floor, one corner breaking off as it rolled to Yu Jinnian’s feet. He picked it up, examining it. Inside was a small, snow-white pill. Ji Hong took it from him, his expression subtly changing.
Yu Jinnian had been practicing medicine for many years, so he naturally recognized it. Ji Hong, being in a position of power, often encountered such things as well. Both of them knew that this white pill was not some beneficial medicine, but poison—arsenic.
Ji Hong asked, “Was it poison?”
Yu Jinnian carefully sniffed the pill, startling Ji Hong, who immediately tried to snatch it back, but Yu Jinnian quickly secured the bottle. Then they heard the young man speak: “It’s not just arsenic. There are other medicinal ingredients mixed in. It’s likely one of those folk remedies for syphilis, the so-called ‘White Pill’ that uses arsenic as a base, claiming to cure through poison.”
Throughout history, there had been many doctors and alchemists who advocated treating poison with poison. The theory of using arsenic to treat syphilis had its logic. However, while some knowledgeable physicians might understand its true nature, more often than not, it was the charlatans, with only a half-baked understanding, who dared to concoct such dangerous remedies. Mercury, white alum, cinnabar, and black mercury were often used in these medicines, and if mishandled, these concoctions became deadly poisons, not cures—especially when such a large dose of arsenic was concentrated into a single pill.
Yu Jinnian spat angrily, “This stuff is harmful beyond measure!”
He wanted to throw the pill away, but Ji Hong stopped him. Yu Jinnian wasn’t sure what Ji Hong intended, thinking perhaps he had a way to handle it. So, he didn’t interfere further and instead fetched some soft towels soaked in clean water.
The appearance of someone who had died from poison was never pleasant, and arsenic poisoning was the most unsightly of all. Bai Haitang had always cared about his appearance, feeling ashamed even to show his face when he had a blemish. Now, he shouldn’t be allowed to go with his face stained.
Yu Jinnian carefully and gently wiped Bai Haitang’s face. The blood oozing from the facial orifices took several towels to clean thoroughly, and even though his face was now clean, his complexion remained ghastly—slightly blue, the unmistakable sign of poisoning.
He threw the blood-soaked towels into a disused porcelain basin, instructing Duan Ming to take it outside and burn it. Then, after washing his hands, Yu Jinnian asked Qing Huan for a box of white powder and rouge. He lightly dusted Bai Haitang’s face with it, and once he was fully prepared, Bai Haitang finally looked as if he were peacefully asleep, at least sparing others the sight of his disfigurement.
Yu Jinnian leaned on the edge of the coffin, quietly watching for a moment, whispering, “Alas, where did you find the courage for this?”
It was courage, indeed, but it was foolish and reckless—like driving south while intending to go north, or trying to put out a fire with more fire. He recalled the time in his past life when he had fallen ill, how he had suffered greatly, but he had never considered dying because he still had attachments. But did Bai Haitang have no such attachments? Or was it because he had someone like Su Ting to hold on to that he made this choice?
Ji Hong, feeling some sympathy, came over and gently squeezed Yu Jinnian’s shoulder, sighing softly. “Let Duan Ming guard here. Let’s go and rest for a while. Tomorrow will be another difficult day.”
“Alright.” Yu Jinnian agreed, but he stayed beside Bai Haitang’s coffin for a while longer, until his legs went numb. Finally, he leaned on Ji Hong’s arm to stand up and return to his room to rest. Before leaving, he pulled out a white silk handkerchief from his sleeve and draped it over Bai Haitang’s face, saying sorrowfully, “Haitang, if you haven’t gone too far yet, please, in a dream, advise Su Ting. Don’t let him follow in your footsteps.”
With two coffins placed in the front hall, none of them slept well that night.
Su Ting spent the entire night having nightmares. His body was heavy, exhausted, and in pain. Though he dreamt over and over about Bai Haitang taking the poison, even feeling as if his heart was breaking in his dreams, he couldn’t wake up.
It was like a form of torture, draining all his strength. By the time the sun had risen high in the sky, Su Ting finally woke up with a gasp, eyes wide open.
“Haitang!” He shouted as he sat up, realizing that he was inside a long, narrow box. Once he understood where he was, he turned his head and saw the coffin lying beside him.
The noodle shop hadn’t opened for business. Though the others had woken early, none had the appetite for food. They ate some porridge, and Qing Huan silently wiped down the tables and chairs with a cloth. Yu Jinnian, dark circles under his eyes, leaned against Ji Hong, dozing off. Ji Hong absentmindedly played with Yu Jinnian’s hair, making his entire body feel so tired that he couldn’t even muster the energy to move. However, Su Ting’s cry startled him awake.
No one moved as they watched Su Ting tumble out of the coffin he had been sleeping in, falling to the floor with a thud. He quickly scrambled to his feet and rushed over to Bai Haitang’s coffin. He seemed to have sobered up. There were no more shouts, just silence as he knelt beside the coffin, staring at Bai Haitang for a long time.
“Su Ting…”
Yu Jinnian, worried, got up and approached him. Suddenly, he heard Su Ting laugh softly, as if speaking to someone. “He’s so beautiful, isn’t he? This wedding gown—he sewed it himself, just to wear it for me.”
Su Ting reached out, wanting to touch Bai Haitang’s face, but his fingertips only felt cold.
He withdrew his hand and began to cry silently.
Having no money, or even working as a laborer, Su Ting had never thought of giving up. Even if he knew that Bai Haitang’s illness might not get better, even if he suspected it was syphilis, so what? He could forego sharing a bed, he could give up anything, as long as the two of them could live together in mutual support and harmony. Was that too much to ask? Su Ting pressed his head against the edge of the coffin, as if all the strength had drained from his body, murmuring, “Why did he take that medicine…”
Everything had just started to settle down. Everything was going to get better. They had just recently gone to see the lanterns together, crossed the bridges for good health, and drank wine while admiring the moon. How, in the blink of an eye, had it all—
Deep down, Su Ting knew. And because he knew, he found it even harder to accept.
It wasn’t him who couldn’t hold on; it was Haitang. Bai Haitang wanted him to give up too. He wanted to see Su Ting marry, have a family, and raise children.
Last night, Su Ting had carried Haitang on his back, telling himself not to cry in front of him. But now, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He looked up at Yu Jinnian, his tears flowing like a broken dam, and with trembling lips, he asked, “Why couldn’t he just wait a little longer? I would’ve saved money, I would’ve cured him, bought him a big house with many servants lined up, calling him ‘Madam Su.’ Even if his illness never got better, I would have taken care of him for life… Why couldn’t he trust me just this once?”
“How could he be so sure that without him, I would marry someone else and have children? What right did he have to make that decision for me?!” Su Ting’s voice was hoarse, choked with emotions he couldn’t scream out, yet couldn’t swallow down either. His eyes were wide with frustration and grief.
Su Ting was about the same age as Min Mao, but their different life circumstances had made them worlds apart. Su Ting’s usual composure often made Yu Jinnian forget how young he truly was, not even having reached adulthood. Yu Jinnian suddenly recalled a day in early spring when Su Ting, mixed in with a group of masked performers during a ritual, had bright black eyes, a sweet tooth, and a touch of shyness.
Without Bai Haitang, Su Ting seemed to have shattered in an instant. He questioned Yu Jinnian, but Yu Jinnian had no answer. The one who could have answered him would never open his eyes again. All Yu Jinnian could do was step closer and let Su Ting lean in and cry as much as he needed.
After a long while, the soft sobs finally subsided. Yu Jinnian gently patted Su Ting’s back, as if comforting a child. Seeing that Su Ting had cried himself into exhaustion and seemed on the verge of sleep, Yu Jinnian gestured for Duan Ming to come over and prepare a bed in the front hall. Together, they helped Su Ting lie down to rest.
As the jingling of Yu Jinnian’s waist bells echoed while he moved, he worried it might wake Su Ting, so he took off his curved blade and placed it on the counter. After tidying up, he went to the kitchen to prepare some light food.
Though the New Year festivities weren’t over, most of the vegetables in the noodle shop had been used up. Yu Jinnian rummaged through the remaining supplies and found mostly cured meats and salted fish. Knowing Su Ting likely had no appetite for heavy dishes, he sliced off a small piece of cured meat, planning to make a simple congee with it. Qing Huan came in to help wash the dried shrimp, and it wasn’t until the rice was cooking, with the cured meat and shrimp floating in the rice soup, that she hesitantly asked, “Brother Nian, how long do we keep those coffins here? We’re just a little restaurant… is it really appropriate to keep them in the front hall?”
“I know,” Yu Jinnian sighed as he mixed rice flour with glutinous rice flour. “You’ve seen how Su Ting is… Let’s wait until he wakes up and decide.” He prepared some brown sugar syrup to make brown sugar sponge cakes, hoping that the sweetness might lift the mood, as they say sweet things can make people feel better.
Yu Jinnian carefully poured the brown sugar syrup into the rice flour mixture, sifting and stirring with meticulous attention, unaware that Su Ting had already woken up in the front hall. Su Ting hadn’t truly slept; he was simply too tired and had wanted to escape for a bit. Now, lying there with his eyes open, staring at the beams of the ceiling, his thoughts kept drifting back to Bai Haitang and all the questions he never had the chance to ask him.
Su Ting sat up, his gaze falling on the curved blade resting on the counter. In a daze, he walked over and grasped the hilt, slowly drawing the blade from its scabbard.
The cold light gleamed, but just then, a voice behind him said, “Thinking of dying?”
Startled, Su Ting let the blade slip from his grasp, falling to the ground with a thud. Ji Hong emerged from the shadows, bent down to pick up the blade, and gently wiped it clean with his sleeve before sheathing it again. “This is a ceremonial blade, blessed for marriage. It’s not meant to shed blood.”
Su Ting said nothing.
“Do you know why there are two coffins?” Ji Hong asked. Su Ting looked up at him silently. Ji Hong chuckled and pulled out the small medicine bottle, shaking it in front of Su Ting. “It’s easy to die for love. But why don’t you think carefully about what you want to say to him first? Otherwise, when you meet him, you’ll have nothing to say. Maybe you’ll just apologize and tell him, ‘I couldn’t make it through this life, and I’ve accomplished nothing, so I’ve come to rot in the ground with you.’”
Ji Hong placed the bottle in the empty coffin and turned to leave, but Su Ting’s weary voice stopped him: “I don’t know what the point of living is anymore.”
Ji Hong replied, “If life has no meaning, then the world is already a hell. So why rush to die? Take your time, Su Ting. If one day you find a reason to keep living, then you’ll have earned the right to die. And if you never find that reason, then when you reach the end of your natural life, you can tell him, ‘See? Life truly was meaningless.’”
Yu Jinnian emerged from the kitchen, holding a bowl of cured meat congee and a plate of brown sugar sponge cakes, just in time to overhear this. Ji Hong’s words—telling Su Ting there was no need to die until he found a reason to live—were twisted logic, but somehow, it seemed to have calmed Su Ting.
Yu Jinnian had been wracking his brain on how to comfort Su Ting, but he hadn’t expected Ji Hong’s strange reasoning to work so effectively.
In the end, age and experience do make a difference.
Su Ting ate a bowl of congee, nibbled on a brown sugar sponge cake, and then climbed back into the coffin for a nap, sleeping until his schedule was completely reversed. By the time night fell and silence enveloped the shop, Yu Jinnian had just closed his eyes when a loud crash came from the front hall. He jolted awake, hurriedly rushing out to see what had happened, only to find the shop’s front door wide open and a coffin lid lying on the floor, having been pushed off.
Yu Jinnian ran to Bai Haitang’s coffin and looked inside: “He’s gone!”
Soon after, Duan Ming returned from outside and reported, “The young master instructed me not to interfere if Sir Su made any moves. So I didn’t stop him, just followed him from a distance. He said he was taking Bai Haitang home… and told me not to follow any further.”
Yu Jinnian still felt uneasy and considered going to check on the theater’s back alleys.
But Ji Hong stopped him, saying, “Give him some time. In the end, he has to make his own choice. That is his fate.”
——
The next day, under the guise of buying groceries, Yu Jinnian sneaked over to the alley behind the theater. To his surprise, the small courtyard was empty, the people gone, leaving behind only a few chickens and ducks wandering aimlessly. There was unfinished rice in the pot, the bed was unmade, and there were bamboo sticks left on the table from when they had made flower lanterns for the Lantern Festival. The room had more small trinkets than when Yu Jinnian had first visited—perhaps they had acquired them later.
The place was still quite impoverished, but there were traces of everyday life, a hint of warmth.
Su Ting, however, had vanished without a trace.
The two coffins, now useless, were chopped into firewood by Duan Ming. The noodle shop was cleaned up and reopened for business. The customers who came and went appeared more vibrant and healthy than before the New Year, their faces filled with joy. Even the wealthy sons of noble families, after indulging in rich food, were kinder to the shopkeepers, generously tipping a few extra coins.
Min Xuefei had begun preparing for his return to the capital, organizing his horses, carriages, and saddles with meticulous care. He rarely visited the noodle shop anymore to bother Yu Jinnian. However, Min Mao, on the other hand, seemed to be constantly hanging around Ji Hong, practically trying to move into his room. This left Yu Jinnian worrying every night whether there might be someone lurking outside their window when he wanted to get intimate with Ji Hong.
By late February, a notable family in the city had invited the Daoist priests from the neighboring city’s Sanxing Temple to perform a ceremony. The grand procession of carriages entered the city, with the Daoists visibly weary from their long journey. Yet, the ceremony brought a wave of excitement to the city, and the local restaurants and food stalls bustled with business.
That day, a group of young aristocrats, having heard of the noodle shop’s reputation, rented out the entire place. They didn’t mind the shop’s modest size and arrived with their servants and singing girls. They loudly ordered extravagant dishes with names like “Eight Immortals Gathering” and “Golden Jade Soup,” keeping Yu Jinnian so busy that he barely had time to breathe. Fortunately, despite their high demands, they were just a group of arrogant young men, trying to flaunt their wealth.
The truly powerful and influential, Yu Jinnian mused, were the ones helping him stoke the fire in the kitchen.
After the rush, Yu Jinnian finally had a moment to step out front, pretending to tidy the counter while actually listening to the singing girls.
Their soft, delicate voices filled the air, smooth and soothing, making everyone feel at ease. As Yu Jinnian listened, another carriage stopped outside the shop. A graceful hand pulled back the curtain, and down stepped a strikingly beautiful figure. Yu Jinnian caught a glimpse and nearly dropped what he was holding. If he hadn’t looked closely, he would have thought he was seeing Bai Haitang.
But this person was much younger, with more vibrancy and allure, lacking Bai Haitang’s subtle purity. Their eyes were naturally seductive, unlike Bai Haitang’s, which had always been gentle and filled with quiet emotion.
Regaining his composure, Yu Jinnian fiddled with the abacus on the counter, listening as the young men called out, “Xiao Lanxiang!”
“Come over and sing for us,” one of them laughed. “This is the most popular singer in town now, Xiao Lanxiang. It’s hard to get her to perform. Her voice is so soft, you could squeeze water out of it.”
“Hey, who was that star performer you had before?” another asked, waving his fan and playfully lifting Xiao Lanxiang’s chin. “I heard him sing once, and his voice really lingered in my mind… Where did he go?”
Xiao Lanxiang blushed, clutching her pipa close, and pursed her thin lips before replying softly, “I don’t know.”
Her fingers gently plucked the strings, and the sound of the pipa filled the room. She began to sing about hidden longing, of not failing a confidant.
On the stage, stories of shared graves unfold, while offstage, life moves on with everyday dealings. Who among them truly understands a soulmate? One Bai Haitang is gone, and in a flash, his memory fades like smoke. With the sound of a gong, more peonies and hibiscuses bloom, one after the other, each more vibrant than the last. Yesterday it was Haitang; today it’s Lanxiang. The flowers bloom brighter, but who can remember them all?
The fleeting nature of a performance is thrilling, but those who truly invest their hearts are left pierced with pain, vanishing without a trace.
The day the coffins, chopped for firewood, were finally burned completely was the second day of February, the Day of the Dragon’s Rise.
Yu Jinnian opened the shop doors and saw a familiar figure standing outside, covered in dew. It was hard to tell how long he had been standing there, his shoulders damp from the morning mist. Though it was still cold in February, he wore only a thin robe, standing there alone with his face pale from the cold. Yu Jinnian hurried back inside to fetch a blanket and draped it over the man’s shoulders.
Half a month had passed, and he seemed even more withdrawn, his eyes slightly red, carrying a bamboo basket on his back.
At this point, Yu Jinnian didn’t know what to say. But seeing Su Ting return gave him a sense of relief, and he simply asked, “You’re back? It’s so cold out here, why didn’t you go home first?”
“Anywhere can be home,” Su Ting replied.
The implication was that nowhere really felt like home.
Su Ting hesitated, then removed the bamboo basket from his back. He took out a small porcelain jar—too small to hold much. He held it in his arms, his expression calm, though his eyes were even redder. Perhaps he had been holding everything in for too long. When he looked up at Yu Jinnian, his eyes were filled with a sorrow he didn’t even seem to fully understand. “I did as Haitang wanted… I had him cremated. He won’t have to suffer from his illness anymore. I also took him to visit a few places he wanted to go but never had the chance to. The plum blossoms on Mount Quwu were in full bloom.”
So the porcelain jar contained Bai Haitang’s remains.
Su Ting continued, “I thought about keeping a small piece, as a keepsake. But then I was afraid that if he was missing a piece, he wouldn’t be able to reincarnate. If he ended up wandering as a vengeful spirit because of it, I’d be cursed.”
“He won’t,” Yu Jinnian’s voice grew hoarse with emotion. “He won’t. If you want to keep a piece, you should. Do you… do you want to come inside and have something to eat?”
Su Ting shook his head, feeling awkward. “I’d rather stay out here. Going inside would bring bad luck.”
Yu Jinnian usually didn’t care about such things, but he still pulled Su Ting inside. It was the second day of February, and they should be eating Dragon Beard Noodles. Yu Jinnian had made some the day before and left them out to dry. He took a handful, cooked them in boiling water, and served them with a fragrant scallion oil sauce.
Back in the front hall, Su Ting sat at the table, still holding the porcelain jar and staring blankly as if lost in thought. It wasn’t until the smell of the scallion oil reached his nose that he blinked.
Yu Jinnian pushed the bowl of noodles toward him and handed him a pair of chopsticks. “Eat first. Have you thought about what you want to do next?”
With a determined look, Su Ting said, “Little doctor, may I learn medicine from you?”