Come in. Let’s talk.
“Master Yu! Come take a look at this patient!”
A clear, refined face poked out from the small room, a palm fan with a scorched corner gripped in his hand. He tilted his head as though double-checking whether someone had truly been calling him. Several damselflies flitted under the eaves and into the courtyard, buzzing their wings as they landed atop a small cluster of patchouli. He gently shook the fan in his grasp, becoming absorbed in watching the damselflies, until once again he heard his name shouted out ahead. Realizing at last he was indeed being summoned, he replied belatedly, “Ah, coming!”
Adding a second dose of water to the small medicine pot, he dampened the fire in the hearth, washed his hands, and hastily made his way to the front.
Stepping into the front courtyard, rows upon rows of tiled houses were neatly laid out within the rectangular, deep walled compound. A group of youths in duck-egg-green summer shirts were gathered in the shade of a tree, chatting. The moment they caught sight of Yu Jinnian turning the corner, they scattered in a flurry, glancing at one another before pushing forward the oldest among them. “Go on, Senior You. You’re the best among us at this!”
Senior You, with his fine, handsome brows, looked genuinely troubled at the moment, his delicate eyebrows knit into a sharp point. He clutched a booklet nervously, edging closer. In a soft voice, he called, “Teacher…”
Yu Jinnian glanced at him—You Chengxi, nephew to You Qingbai of the Imperial Medical Office. Yu Jinnian recalled how, back then, You Qingbai himself had been only twenty-odd, an unknown minor official. Who would have expected that his nephew would now be so grown?
Because Yu Jinnian’s gaze lingered a moment too long, You Chengxi broke out in a cold sweat. Inwardly, Yu Jinnian sighed. This nephew of You Qingbai’s was excellent in every other respect—sharp-witted, keenly retentive, able to recite any text asked of him, outpacing everyone in the entire courtyard in memorization. Only…he had been coddled too much at home. The first time they met, the boy had cowered timidly behind his uncle like a quail.
Yu Jinnian hadn’t intended to accept him, but couldn’t withstand You Qingbai’s relentless praise of his nephew’s precocious intellect or ignore the child’s achievement as a youth—taking the top spot at the autumn medical exam. In the end, You Qingbai had stuffed him in regardless.
Since joining, the boy had endured Yu Jinnian’s harsh instruction for several years, and though his timidity had improved, he’d acquired a new habit—growing tense each time he saw Yu Jinnian.
Yu Jinnian thought wryly that, without realizing it, he himself had become the stern, feared teacher among the children.
They all followed into a room marked “Number 22.” A young man, his light blue overcoat worn inside out, was seated by the bed talking to someone. Upon seeing Yu Jinnian arrive, he let out a breath of relief. You Chengxi quickly opened his medical records, steadied himself, and began, “This patient experienced a sudden low fever and headache upon waking this morning. When the attendant brought him medication just now, he also complained of chest tightness and abdominal discomfort…”
“In your view, how should such symptoms be treated?”
You Chengxi replied, “In my opinion, when the patient speaks of chest tightness, it does not truly stem from the heart, but rather from gastric discomfort pressing upon the chest. If the gastric symptoms are relieved, the chest will naturally feel unburdened. I would employ a modified Cinnamon Twig Decoction to harmonize the nutritive and defensive qi. Observing his fatigue and sleepiness, I might add six qian of astragalus to strengthen the central qi…”
The younger students all shrank to the back, heads down as they listened to You Chengxi’s report. The lively back-and-forth between him and Master Yu left them all secretly admiring his composure.
Yu Jinnian sat by the bed, feeling the pulse as he listened to You Chengxi’s response. At the end, he rose and said, “Three qian of astragalus, the rest as you suggested.” Only then did You Chengxi secretly relax, but Yu Jinnian added, “Before the morning lesson tomorrow, submit a written explanation detailing why I chose not to use six qian of astragalus.”
The heart he’d just settled immediately leapt into his throat. Head hung low, he complied, already brooding over the astragalus issue when suddenly, lively footsteps and a clear laugh rang out from the front. You Chengxi perked up at once and hurried after the others into the garden, blinking to peer into the distance.
Yu Jinnian took up several medical record books, quickly paging through the status of the other patients, when a crisp voice called from afar, “Master! Shidi’s dad is here!”
Turning around, he was enveloped by a burst of fragrance. The girl threw herself around his shoulders, smiling as brilliantly as the rising sun. Yu Jinnian shook his head, pried her off himself, straightened her silver hair ornament, and looked at her helplessly: “Sui Sui, calling out nonsense again. Where is your master? Why aren’t you at home—what brings you here? Isn’t the sun making you dizzy?”
He regarded the girl before him—tall and slender, delicate as the autumn moon, her brows faintly echoing her mother’s features. However, she had inherited little of her mother’s gentle grace, and even less of her quiet intelligence. Instead, a spirited boldness was visible in her, so much so that even the young boys at the Guangji Medical Bureau dared not provoke her easily.
Yu Jinnian reflected with mixed feelings on his parenting. Somehow, she’d suddenly grown from a small, soft child into a young woman.
“I came with Shidi’s dad. He’s up front having tea; said there was something he wanted to discuss with you.” She shrugged her shoulders and lifted her chin stubbornly. “Next year, I’ll definitely pass the exam! You don’t believe me? He said himself I’ll pass, and he even promised me a celebratory feast!”
Yu Jinnian’s mind was dragged back to the present. Putting down the files, he moved forward, grumbling nonetheless: “You keep inventing new kinship titles; the whole family tree’s a mess. If he’s your master’s father, then what does that make me to you? Just for that, you’ve made me her senior by a generation—where’s the fairness in that? Let’s hear you call me ‘Brother Xiaonian’ again. Didn’t you use to call me that? Now you’re grown, and show no sense of respect.”
Sui Sui turned away, refusing to call him Brother Xiaonian anymore.
Yu Jinnian continued on in search of that so-called “Shidi’s dad.” The boys behind him began to stir, for patient interrogation was their greatest anxiety—far worse than being grilled on their recitations. With the teacher gone, the little rabbits all popped from their holes once more.
As they walked, several of them sighed, “Usually it’s the other professors inspecting our work—why has it been Master Yu alone these last few days? Good thing His Lordship came to the rescue just now. Otherwise, if I’d been called on by Master Yu, I’d have been punished with writing lines for sure.”
“I heard someone in the Imperial family fell ill, so the regular professors from the Imperial Medical Office have been summoned back to the palace. The Supervision Office is overwhelmed and can’t spare anyone to test us, so the Medical Bureau had to trouble Master Yu to step in.”
“Don’t be fooled by Master Yu’s gentle manner—he’s actually got a mind of his own. Only His Lordship can keep him in line.” One muttered, quickening his pace, then added in curiosity, “Say, Master Yu marrying the heir of Duke Li’s household—how does that even work? Two men courting…it’s a bit strange, isn’t it?”
“What do you know? The two of them get along wonderfully! I bet your parents aren’t even half as close as they are. Besides, it’s not like men marrying men is unheard of in history.”
Another young nobleman came up, clutching a book, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. “Even if the marriage was granted by the Emperor, no one ever said they couldn’t take concubines, right? These years, Master Yu has enjoyed imperial favor; His Lordship is the Emperor’s brother-in-law. Surely many would love to send their daughters to them!”
They all laughed. “Which of them would accept? Or perhaps one for each? That’d be quite the ‘romantic legend,’ wouldn’t it!”
“They’re among the most prominent figures here; who wouldn’t want to be involved? Too bad neither has ever accepted anyone else! So many years and never bored of each other—openly affectionate too. If ordinary couples stayed so close for a decade, wouldn’t everyone envy them?”
He looked left, then right: “Your father like that? Your mother?”
The youths all shook their heads in unison. Their parents’ marriages had been arranged, and while life was peaceful, none could boast the intimacy of Master Yu’s household, let alone dare to walk hand in hand down the street.
“There you have it,” the young noble concluded. “Master Yu was right: whether it’s arranged or for love, as long as hearts are united, gender is of little consequence.”
A round-faced youth eyed him. “Fourth Young Master Ji, you wouldn’t happen to…be—?”
“Be what?” Fourth Ji glared back. “What’s it to you whether I am or not? Besides, Master Yu always says life is but a brief journey—heaven and earth are but passing inns. To live truly as yourself, that’s what counts.”
The round-faced boy fell speechless, muttering in frustration, “I was just saying, no need for so many wise maxims! All you ever do is quote Master Yu; you could debate circles around people, but you’ll never be his favored student.”
Ji Fourth puffed out his cheeks in indignation.
Someone, thinking of Master Yu’s favorite pupils, suddenly recalled, “Hey, that’s true—where did Professor Su go?”
Another snorted. “Where else? Off traveling and practicing medicine again. I heard there were outbreaks of an as-yet-unseen rash out west; Professor Su must’ve gone to see for himself.”
All the apprentices nodded. “Professor Su spends at least two hundred days a year away from the capital. Quite strange that a leading professor from the second-highest medical institution after the Imperial Office prefers wandering the country as an itinerant doctor.”
“I heard Professor Su is looking for someone.” A medical apprentice surnamed Zhang whispered, “It’s someone he fancied in his youth and lost touch with; he’s never forgotten her.”
“Nonsense, that’s not right at all! I heard at Jin You Ting that after Lady Su gave birth to Haitang and passed away, Professor Su mourned deeply, refusing ever to remarry. Then, in a dream, he was guided by the Bodhisattva: if he saves 999 souls in this life, he’ll ascend and be reunited with his wife. Only after that did he become Master Yu’s disciple…”
“…Wow! Professor Su really is a good man.” A wave of admiration washed over the boys, some even rubbing away tears with their sleeves.
Just then, a fragrant head popped up beside them, cutting in, “Have you all heard the rumor that your Master Yu is actually the reincarnated assistant of the Medicine Buddha?”
“Really?” The turn of heads revealed Xu Sui, and they realized they’d been teased. Several of them remembered being tricked by her before, and quickly dispersed.
Sui Sui huffed, then, still hoping to visit the rear wards, hesitated when someone gently called out beside her: “Miss Xu.”
She turned to see You Chengxi. Of all the others who’d been gossiping, only he had stayed beneath the tree, reciting his medical texts.
Such a bookworm.
You Chengxi fidgeted with the medical case in his arms, unable to meet her gaze, staring instead at her silver ornament. “Miss Xu, it’s hot out—would you like to have some iced herbal tea in the small room behind? The tea here at Guangji is specially prepared by our teacher: it clears the heat, quenches thirst, and doesn’t harm the spleen…”
Sui Sui smiled sweetly at him. “Can you make the tea yourself? Will you prepare some and send it up to Jin You Ting for me?”
“Uh?” You Chengxi blinked, flustered. “I…I do know how, but certainly not as well as Teacher. Still, if Miss Xu likes, I can use Teacher’s recipe to brew a couple servings and send them to your residence once they’ve cooled…”
Sui Sui leaned in and stared him down until You Chengxi backpedaled, his face flushing deep red.
“We already have a little doctor at home. No need for you to deliver iced tea such a long way.” Sui Sui burst out laughing, shaking her skirts as she walked off toward the medicine room, muttering, “What a bookworm!”
It took a long moment for You Chengxi to recover, dumbly watching Miss Xu’s retreating figure and thinking how long her eyelashes were… Suddenly, her crisp voice called from up ahead, “Standing there like a fool under the sun? You heat-struck or what?” Startled from his reverie, he hurried to catch up.
Yu Jinnian made his way around the corridor, turning into a small pavilion at the front. A basin of ice was placed in the room, cooling the stifling summer heat. He walked to the window, where slanted sunlight filtered through the carved lattice, casting dappled shadows across someone’s face. The magpies embroidered on the window seemed to come alive, chattering joyfully atop his companion’s shoulder.
He, meanwhile, was like a steadfast pine—offering a patch of cool shade, eternally verdant.
Ji Hong heard his footsteps, put down his book, and glanced out, meeting Yu Jinnian’s unwavering gaze. Smiling, he said, “What—after all these years, you still haven’t had your fill of looking?”
Yu Jinnian stepped inside, plucked a grape from the ice bowl, popped it into his mouth, and, tongue rolling the juice, teased, “If beauty is before me, there’s never enough time to look—only, I fear…beauty in decline.”
A hand suddenly wrapped around his waist, pulling him onto Ji Hong’s lap. Darkness fell as cool lips—faintly scented with pine and plum—pressed against his own, lingering teasingly at first before deepening into a full, possessive kiss. They battled for the grape until someone finally swallowed it. Ji Hong drew back, raising his eyes, smiling.
Yu Jinnian pushed him into the chair back, hungrily returning the kiss, neither yielding an inch.
Ji Hong pinched his slender spine, laughing low, “Has the beauty withered?”
Yu Jinnian, savoring what had just passed, sighed, “Alas, it’s the talent of Yu that’s run dry!”
Ji Hong patted the small of his back with meaning. “Your talent is like a clear spring in the mountains—endless and inexhaustible.”
“Such a thick skin!” Yu Jinnian called out, “Just listen to yourself!” The two tumbled together onto the soft couch of the pavilion, lying side by side, gazing up at the silken canopy overhead. This quiet little pavilion was the only sanctuary left in the house; everything else Yu Jinnian had converted into dispensaries or sickrooms. Every item here Ji Hong had chosen himself according to Yu Jinnian’s habits.
The tiny bed inside was enough for one with room to spare, but a little cramped for two—still, it was their place for brief respite amid all the busyness.
Ji Hong sat up, pulled the ice basin closer, and fanned Yu Jinnian gently by the bedside. Resting on his arm, Yu Jinnian gazed dazedly at him. After a moment, he murmured, “Ah Hong, after all these years…why haven’t you changed a bit?”
“What sort of change do you expect?” Ji Hong asked, feeding him another grape. “You’re the one who has changed a great deal.”
“How so?” Yu Jinnian asked, curious.
Ji Hong looked at him for a while. “You’ve grown up.”
Yu Jinnian frowned, indignant. “Did you always see me as a child, then?”
Ji Hong replied softly, “Before, you were always darting about, never at ease. You looked so frail, as if a gust of wind could carry you off, small enough to fit in a box. Like…in a temple fair, you’d get swallowed by the crowd and I’d never find you again. I was always afraid one day I’d lose you.”
He glanced at Yu Jinnian. “But now, you’ve grown. Wherever you go, you stand out—never lost in a crowd, never unnoticed. If ever I can’t find you, all I need do is look up, and there you are.”
“No need to look up, really…” Yu Jinnian mumbled, embarrassed, “I’m too grown to get lost. Just wait for me and I’ll find my way back.”
Ji Hong’s dark jade eyes shone with gentle laughter.
“Aren’t you going to the Supervision Office this afternoon? Running back and forth from the city, minding both the Tri-Res Library and Jin You Ting—don’t you get tired? Shouldn’t you rest?” Ji Hong saw him lying at the bed’s head, eyes open but already unfocused, about to drift off. Yu Jinnian hated the heat and was always listless in summer, forever pestering Ji Hong for more ice. At last, Ji Hong relented, cracking off a coin-sized piece and popping it in Yu Jinnian’s mouth, fanning him gently. “Sleep now. The midday heat is heavy; people grow sluggish. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”
Yu Jinnian closed his eyes, the ice melting slowly on his tongue.
Eight years now.
Since their wedding day, eight springs and autumns had quietly slipped by: joy and quarrels, affection and friction, all of it had filled Yu Jinnian’s days without a moment of tedium. Life’s trivialities—meals, sauces, oil, salt—even in the grandest homes, it all boiled down to daily necessities. This was life—the ordinary, repeated day after day.
Remembering the past, every sunrise and sunset, Yu Jinnian cherished more than he could say.
The Emperor had granted his marriage and established the Guangji Medical Bureau for him to realize his aspirations. To this day, Yu Jinnian did not know just how Ji Hong had managed any of it; he’d pieced together hints only through scattered comments at the time. He’d asked—whenever he did, Ji Hong kept silent, Min Ji said nothing, even Lianzhi in the palace only shook his head and smiled, saying what’s past is past; live in the present. In the end, it became a secret Yu Jinnian would never unravel.
As a wedding gift, the then-Consort—now the Empress—had bestowed upon him a grand estate in the suburbs, along with gold and silks. The estate’s lands and a hundred servants offered all the trappings of wealth, but Yu Jinnian, unwilling to play the nouveau riche, had decided instead to employ laborers to build rows of tiled houses and kitchens at the back, and to cultivate medicinal herbs in the unused fields.
The newly founded Medical Supervision Office was located near Jin You Ting, convenient to both there and the Tri-Res Library, exuding an air of new prestige. On its opening day, the spectacle drew a crowd.
The Emperor, though not versed in medicine, was politically astute. Yu Jinnian had submitted a memorial outlining the ills facing the field: hereditary families hoarding medical lore, folk doctors peddling half-knowledge, patients trusting unverified remedies or cycling through doctors in search of quick cures. During epidemics, disaster struck in a flash.
As the wise urged: “Establish a great school and appoint worthy teachers to raise talent for the nation.” Why not “found a medical school, appoint masters, and train physicians”? In the last epidemic, many doctors had closed their doors or chosen self-preservation, enabling the pestilence to sweep from Jiangnan to the capital. The Emperor, shocked, recognized the need for reform.
Thus, the Medical Supervision Office became, in effect, Yu’s one-man court, the hope being that exhausted medical affairs might find new life under his guidance.
He would not fail those hopes. With the Emperor’s personal sanction, the Medical Supervision Office was barely finished when his own estate was already converted into the Guangji Medical Bureau, employing physicians and accepting patients, determined to “save lives with utmost virtue.”
On the second day of the Bureau’s opening, ripples again shook the city. Yu Jinnian posted a notice: the new “Apricot Grove Academy” was accepting medical students every autumn—any literate youth over twelve, male or female, rich or poor, could apply. After a month’s probation and standardized testing, the qualified would be admitted. Five years of study followed: two years of basics at the Supervision Office, with specialty choices in the second year—internal medicine, surgery, gynecology, pediatrics, each with its own masters—then two years of clinical practice at the suburban bureau.
Upon graduation, those excelling both in academics and practice were awarded medical licenses by the Academy, authorized to open clinics. If they failed, they could keep trying in subsequent years; those unable might simply leave. The best could be recommended for Imperial medical exams and the Imperial Medical Office.
Until now, only hereditary families had joined the Imperial Office, by recommendation and privilege; Yu Jinnian’s reforms threw its doors open to all—so long as one had talent and determination.
Such opportunity! Easier than a decade spent on the civil exams. Many failed scholars in the capital chose to try their hand, but half dropped out within six months. For all the ease of entry, the Academy proved a crucible of endless tests—every three days a quiz, every five days a major exam: classics, herbs, acupuncture, theory, diagnosis, the fundamentals of yin and yang, even the five elements and landscape…enough to dizzy anyone.
Some, for all their efforts, couldn’t tell a red tongue from a purple or a yellow coating from a white; others never grasped the basic pulse forms even after a month. That was just the beginning; infectious diseases, febrile syndromes, and herbal debates loomed ahead.
There was even anatomy—colored glass models of organs, stone-carved bones and engraved brains, frightening to look at, yet Master Yu demanded strict memorization, a single mistake unacceptable.
The students, tormented, dreamt of Master Yu’s scolding even in their sleep.
Over the years, Yu Jinnian recruited more than a dozen resident professors to the Academy—not just famous doctors and Imperial physicians from renowned families, but also monks, Daoists, and the odd hermit. Professors spanned all ages and backgrounds. Guest lecturers from all corners of the land, sharing rare techniques and strange anecdotes, were frequent visitors. Once, even a wandering shaman was invited to lecture on the folklore of healing.
As Yu Jinnian put it—if “technique” is effective, it is because it soothes the mind, and understanding how to comfort the heart so patients entrust themselves is essential for a healer. The technique is but form; within, more awaits discovery.
At first, the medical community furiously opposed the reforms, denouncing Yu as an upstart, a corrupting influence, forbidding their kin to study under him. Without the support of Chen Yang and You Qingbai, his changes might not have succeeded. Later, You Qingbai sent his nephew, and Chen Yang became a professor himself, setting an example for the medical clans.
From then on, medicine was no longer solely the privilege of highborn families, but also a lifeline for the people. Physicians came from, and served, the ordinary world; Yu Jinnian jealously withheld nothing, only hoping each would remember the meaning: Guangji—to save all with great virtue.
With time, the Supervision Office and Guangji Bureau settled into their new roles; the earliest students now scattered to the four corners of the world, carrying the mission of Guangji and the Academy’s hopes with them. Su Ting from the first class scored top marks in the final exam, a record still unmatched, spent two years at the bureau, and now taught as a professor at the Academy.
Eight years passed in a blink; sometimes Yu Jinnian would recall the past: the careworn “Second Lady” in Xinan County, timid little Sui Sui, steadfast Qing Huan, gentle Haitang, and the love-struck Su Ting… Scenes as clear as yesterday, and yet as distant as a prior life. Some details blurred, seen clearly only in dreams.
Now, Sui Sui had blossomed, Su Ting had started his own medical journey, Xiao Haitang was an elfin child always clinging to Daddy, Qing Huan had years ago married Duan Ming as she’d wished, and all was well. He saw Second Lady soothing Qing Huan’s expectant belly, saw Bai Haitang singing an old tune as he mended Su Ting’s worn sleeve on the porch.
Yu Jinnian awoke suddenly, music fading, eyes blinking open. He saw the ink-blue hem of a robe embroidered with delicate bamboo, gently stirring as the fan waved. Looking up, he saw a face that seldom appeared in his dreams.
“Ah Hong,” he called softly.
He rarely dreamed of him, for he saw him every day—no yearning required.
“You’re awake?” Ji Hong poured him a cup of sour-plum juice from the ice, voice gentle. “You slept barely more than a stick of incense. Too hot? Here—this is freshly chilled. Drink and cool off.”
Yu Jinnian downed the cool drink in a few gulps, feeling instantly refreshed. Smacking his lips, he said, “Just remembered—before I nodded off, Sui Sui mentioned you had something to tell me. Almost forgot. What is it?”
“Nothing major,” Ji Hong replied calmly. “I wish to request a few days’ leave from the Superintendent.”
Yu Jinnian: “Ah? Why?”
Ji Hong said, “I’d like to visit Xinan County. Shi Xing wrote to me saying Xinan has changed greatly—carriages everywhere, rows of new buildings, and Young Master Jiang’s Splendid Spring Restaurant has opened a branch right next to our noodle shop. He claims that if you don’t return soon, he’ll buy the place and outshine you.”
“One Bowl Noodle Shop was burned to the ground—what’s left but ruins and ashes? How could he still compete with me unless jealousy has addled his mind—” Yu Jinnian started changing into fresh clothes, then suddenly froze, glancing at Ji Hong. “Wait! Did you…did you rebuild the noodle shop?”
Ji Hong smiled faintly, his fan fluttering with a thousand unspoken emotions.
–
Ten days later, a spacious, comfortable carriage stopped in front of Jin You Ting. From the outside, it looked like any large coach, nothing out of the ordinary—but inside, it was another world. Some might call it improper, but for Ji Hong, Yu Jinnian was propriety itself. For long journeys, so long as he was comfortable, nothing else mattered.
Yu Jinnian, as always, insisted on carrying his medicine chest, a stack of unfinished manuscripts in hand, head bowed, legs heavy with exhaustion from another night of writing.
His decision was sudden; the Supervision Office and Medical Bureau barely had time to react before he’d tidied up each task and set off as though nothing more than a passing manager. By his own logic, these institutions belonged to the people, not to himself alone; they would run just as well without him.
He ended with a shake of the head and a sigh: “I am, after all, just an ordinary doctor.”
Everyone else: “…”
Sui Sui came running out to see him off. Qing Huan, pregnant and assisted by Duan Ming, insisted on coming as well. Yu Jinnian loaded the chest and books onto the carriage, waved his hand, urging them to quickly return—he was only going south for a few days, not off to war; no need for such ceremony.
Qing Huan thought that after all these years, he deserved a rest. Yet she knew, too, how deeply Yu Jinnian, the little miracle doctor from the south, could never let go of his path; it was not a task for one, perhaps not for one generation, or several, but he was willing to try.
Even if he failed, he was resolved to be the pioneer.
Yu Jinnian climbed into the carriage, the driver gathered the stepstool, but before the horses moved, Sui Sui ran up and called out, “Brother Xiaonian!”
He turned and smiled at her, beaming, “Yes?”
She stared at him in silence before stubbornly declaring, “You—eat more hometown food for me, check on my mother, and if you see anything new and interesting, bring it back. Anyway…just, just…don’t rush home.”
Yu Jinnian smiled, pausing before answering, “Alright.”
The wheels clattered, Sui Sui stood on the steps, waving vigorously from afar.
Not until they’d left the city and the gates were out of sight did Yu Jinnian turn around and sit, lost in thought. Ji Hong asked twice; Yu Jinnian, frowning, reluctantly replied, “Think of it as pre-homecoming nerves!”
Ji Hong chuckled, “We’ve barely left the city and you’re nervous! When we really reach Xinan, what will you do—hide in my arms?”
Yu Jinnian glared at him.
He’d thought all was lost in the fire, so it no longer mattered if he returned. But learning Ji Hong had rebuilt One Bowl Noodle Shop, even if it wasn’t the original, he couldn’t help looking forward to it. After all, that was where everything began—the first true home he’d known, where he stood by Second Lady, met and bonded with Ji Hong.
His first place to call home.
…
The road was neither long nor short. As the carriage rolled through Xinan’s western gate onto the bustling main street, the rows of shops and surging throngs were utterly changed from what he remembered. Yu Jinnian hardly recognized anything, peering out the window wide-eyed at the shops—some old ones gone, some grown grander.
By nightfall, the coach rumbled to a halt.
He gazed at the little shop outside the window: two small red lanterns hanging beneath the eaves, a lucky character faded on the black door panels, the door slightly ajar as if someone might step out at any moment to offer a bowl of noodles or a fresh basket of dim sum. It stood quietly among the bustle, unchanged as though it had always been so, and Yu Jinnian suddenly felt a lump in his throat.
Ji Hong led him down. He knocked on the half-open door.
A middle-aged man quickly appeared, studied them, and apologized, “Sorry, sirs, the shop’s not open for business—I’m just the caretaker…”
Inside, the layout was just as before, though newly furnished. The familiar menu boards now hung empty on the wall; the narrow doorway to the back garden was draped with a gentle-colored curtain, fluttering in the evening breeze, revealing pots of green plants by the wall.
The caretaker saw tears glinting in Yu Jinnian’s eyes and jumped in alarm, “Please, young master, we’re really not open, and I can’t cook anyway. If you’re truly hungry, there’s a cake shop next door at Splendid Spring Restaurant…”
Ji Hong presented the title deed. “There’s no rush. He’s the owner.”
The old deed had burned; this, Ji Hong had quietly secured at the magistrate’s office.
“Huh?” The caretaker examined the deed for a while, startled anew, “You really are! Master! You haven’t been back in years—I was worried you’d forgotten us!”
Ji Hong handed him a pouch of silver. “You needn’t keep watch any longer; when you’re needed again, you’ll be called.”
“Very good, very good!” The caretaker hurried home, the silver enough to clothe his whole family for winter.
Yu Jinnian wandered silently inside, lingering over every table and chair, pacing the old hall, passing through the curtain to the back. The old vines were gone—Ji Hong had replaced them with luxuriant small roses, pink buds blooming amidst the new green. Only the little well, with its scorched rim, remained as it was.
Ji Hong followed him quietly as he checked every room, finally arriving at their old bedroom.
The bed was so small—how had the two of them ever managed to sleep there together? After so many years, Yu Jinnian no longer recalled every tile and fixture, but Ji Hong had reproduced them all, detail for detail.
Perhaps this place held something special for Ji Hong as well?
Yu Jinnian sat on the bed, closed his eyes, and found he could almost recall how Ji Hong used to reach to encircle his waist at night, afraid of the dark.
He burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Ji Hong asked.
Yu Jinnian opened his eyes, threw his arms around Ji Hong’s waist, pressed his cheek to his chest, and listened to the distant, even breath—the sound of the deep sea upon his heart. For a long moment, he held him tight, mumbling, “I want…”
Ji Hong bent to ask, “Want what?”
Yu Jinnian pinched his lower back, annoyed by Ji Hong’s earlier flirtation only to play innocent now. He bit softly at the sash on Ji Hong’s waist, then looked up brightly. “I want.”
Ji Hong understood, suspicious: “Can you? Just off the carriage—aren’t you tired?”
“Make me a little more tired,” Yu Jinnian whispered, pulling him closer. “I’m too excited to sleep—come in, let’s talk.”
Ji Hong held him, deliberately teasing, “Come in where?” At length, with the lights doused and curtains drawn, muffled sounds followed. Ji Hong chuckled, catching Yu Jinnian’s wrist in his own, the hand that once took pulses now gripping his lifeline.
Late into the night, in the peak of shared delight, Ji Hong dipped to kiss him. “I’m in. What did you want to say?”
Yu Jinnian, eyes blurred with heat, sought Ji Hong’s lips in the dark, drawing close, clinging tight, wishing only that in the coming decades—ten years, twenty—they might still embrace and kiss just like this.
He moved his tongue, and between moments of tangled breath and touch, pressed out three words.
Ji Hong bit down, swallowing those three words—torn, scattered, devoured, sating them for a lifetime.
…
The next morning,
The townsfolk of Xinan discovered that the long-shuttered noodle shop had—suddenly—reopened.
A young man stood smiling at the entrance, eyes crinkled. “Bowl of zhajiang noodles?”
Author’s note:
Three words: Are you in?
(bushi, being bludgeoned by the public)
—
The Medical Bureau’s junior rascals: Mystery of the Ages! Did Master Yu marry His Lordship, or did His Lordship marry Master Yu?! (x
Jinnian: Go study!