General Green’s Demise

As she watched Red Silk standing alone in the wind, a sudden, inexplicable sense of trust rose in Lingran’s heart. Even if it was just for one moment of reckless passion, it was worth it!

“You came today to ask about my origins, didn’t you? You want to find out where the Prime Minister truly comes from?” Lingran stepped before him and blurted out the words without preamble.

A flicker of surprise flashed in Red Silk’s eyes—he clearly hadn’t expected Lingran to broach the topic herself.

“In fact, your guess isn’t wrong. I think the Prime Minister and I are probably from the same distant place—a place so very different from this world…” Lingran scratched her head, searching for how to explain it so he would truly understand.

Red Silk shook his head.

Lingran didn’t care what he meant by that. Suddenly struck by an idea, she tilted her head and smiled sweetly: “Let me tell you a story. Would you care to listen?”

“You just said you wanted to see the Ghost Festival.” Red Silk’s thoughts, it seemed, were not on the same track as hers.

Lingran widened her eyes, confused by his meaning.

“We have all the time in the world for stories. It’s been a long while since I’ve gone out myself. Why don’t I take you to see it today?”

“What?” Lingran truly wondered if she’d heard wrong, then burst into joy. “You mean you’ll take me to see the temple fair outside? You’re not lying?” Though she knew there was no chance of escape with Red Silk as her companion, ever since arriving in this era, she had never once wandered freely outside. The lure of an outing was simply too great to resist.

Red Silk shot her a sidelong glance. “And you’re not lying about telling me a story?”

“Oh!” Lingran nearly jumped for joy. If the one standing before her weren’t such an impossibly handsome man, she would have thrown her arms around his neck in delight. But then a thought struck her; cautiously, she asked, “I belong to the Garden of Myriad Wonders now. Is it all right for me to go out with you? What am I supposed to say to those in the household?”

“If I say I’m taking you out, what is there to worry about?” Red Silk strode ahead. “But our clothes are both too conspicuous. Come, let’s change.”

At last, fortune smiled upon her!

Lingran silently thanked every god and Buddha she could think of. Afraid he might change his mind, she dared not utter a word of protest, and hurried after him—his pace unhurried in appearance, but swift beneath the surface—trailing behind like a little dog wagging its tail as they wound down the mountain and through twisting paths, until they glimpsed a corner of a crimson pavilion deep within the flowering woods.

Red Silk walked straight toward it. Two maids were sweeping fallen leaves before the building. Upon seeing him, they hastily stepped aside and bowed.

“What is this place?”

“My residence,” he replied without breaking stride.

“You live here alone?”

“Yes.”

Upon learning it was his private abode, Lingran followed him in without hesitation. Before the door, a parrot suddenly shrieked, “The young master has returned! The young master has returned!”

Lingran was amused by the bird’s foolish antics and reached out to tease it.

But the parrot glared fiercely and pecked her hand hard.

Lingran yelped in pain, snatching her hand back before she could even check the wound. Suddenly, a flash of red darted before her eyes—a soft thud, and the bird was struck down. The parrot fell from its pure silver perch with hardly a sound, hung upside down by the chain on its leg, twitching briefly before going utterly still. It was dead.

She stared in shock at Red Silk, who hadn’t even glanced back. It was hard to believe he had done this. If the killer had been the icy Prince Xiang, she could have accepted it. But Red Silk didn’t seem the type for such ruthlessness!

“Wretched beast! It should have died long ago.” Red Silk strode to the door, where four maidservants in attire finer than that of common maids hastened out, kneeling in greeting just inside.

He addressed one in the center: “Find her a young lady’s dress, something plain and elegant.”

The maid glanced in astonishment at Lingran’s dazed expression. Her eyes darted, and then she noticed the dead parrot, immediately crying out, “Young master! The Prime Minister spent a thousand taels of silver to buy that Green General for you as a gift—”

“I killed it. Take it away and bury it,” Red Silk interrupted, and went inside.

Lingran hesitated as she entered the small building, too distracted to admire its refined beauty. Red Silk’s actions were so odd. Yesterday, he’d said the Prime Minister had been gracious to him and allowed no harm to come to him. Yet today, he’d killed the parrot gifted by Chu Liuxiang without a hint of sentiment. He didn’t seem to care for the Prime Minister at all. Which was his true feeling?

One maid went to fetch clothes for Lingran, another called for a servant to remove the parrot’s stand, a third hurried upstairs—presumably to assist the young master in changing—and the last remained in the hall, watching Lingran with a gaze that was almost predatory.

That look was familiar—ah, yes, just like the wary glances exchanged between the concubines in the Garden of Myriad Wonders.

Did she see Lingran as a rival? Lingran broke out in a cold sweat: “Your young master is just a male favorite, you know! I have no interest in competing for a boyfriend with an older man!”

Bearing in mind her own position as a maid, Lingran dared not sit, even though there were chairs and a sandalwood couch downstairs. She stood awkwardly, side by side with the glowering maid. Fortunately, the one who’d gone to serve the young master soon returned, pouted, and prepared a cup of tea, which she brought to Lingran. “Please, miss, have a seat.”

Lingran guessed she was only being polite on Red Silk’s orders. Parched after her breakfast, she simply set her bundle on the table, accepted the tea, thanked her, and drank eagerly.

The tea was unusually fragrant and mellow. Lingran knew little of tea, but even she could tell this was a rare and fine brew, and she took a few extra sips.

Before long, she heard light footsteps on the stairs. She looked up and froze, her face flushing inexplicably.

Red Silk had changed into a deep blue long robe, with a jade-colored inner garment and a black belt inlaid with jade at his waist. His boots were strikingly white. He looked uncommonly heroic. All traces of the seductive charm he’d displayed in the lake pavilions were gone, replaced by an unmistakable masculine air.

He wore no particular expression, simply gazing coolly at the dazed Lingran as he descended the stairs.

Lingran quickly lowered her head to her tea.

Red Silk sat across from her, cast her a sidelong glance, and said suddenly, “Bring the brow stone and brush.”

Lingran had no idea what he meant, but the two maids clearly did—they exchanged astonished looks, curtsied, and left together.

Red Silk said nothing more to her, and she held her tongue as well.

Soon, the maids returned, carrying a small tray upon which rested a tiny black stone, no more than five or six centimeters, shaped like an inkstone. Beside it, on a little mountain-shaped rack, was a fine wolf-hair brush and a strip of stone.

Lingran had been groomed twice before—once when sold and again upon entering the Prime Minister’s residence—and she recognized this as the ancient kind of stone used to draw eyebrows. It worked much like an inkstone, but the color it produced was a soft, natural black.

One maid poured a little tea on the stone and ground it. Lingran wondered why Red Silk wanted such a thing. Then, she watched him dip the brush, step before her, and bend over slightly.

“What are you doing?” Lingran cried out in alarm. If someone had told her Red Silk intended to draw her eyebrows, she would never have believed it.

And yet, the truth lay plainly before her eyes.