Chapter 68: I Want to See Your Face
The palace was desolate under the night sky, the ponds and small gardens equally lonely, even though it was a summer night.
By the pond, there were not just two people. There was also the black sheep, hidden in the nearby thicket.
Chen Changsheng first saw the middle-aged woman, then spotted the black sheep. If it had been anyone else, they would have been startled, but he was not, because he had grown accustomed to seeing the black sheep by the pond every time he emerged from beneath the North New Bridge. As for the middle-aged woman, she was not unfamiliar to him either. The first time he had come out of the pond, she was the one he had seen.
Deep within the forbidden palace, if he alarmed the palace staff, it would cause great trouble. He could not speak, so he clasped his hands and bowed respectfully to the middle-aged woman across the pond.
His gesture was polite, his movements precise, but soaked through as he was, bowing so earnestly made him look somewhat comical.
The black sheep watched him through the leaves, tilting its head slightly, as if mocking him.
He ignored this and gestured to the middle-aged woman, indicating that he needed to change into dry clothes and asking her to turn around and wait.
Then he mouthed to the black sheep, "Close your eyes."
He had always thought the middle-aged woman was deaf and mute, so naturally she could understand the sign language he had learned from his senior brother, Yu Ren. And indeed, she did know sign language.
But she did not turn around, because nothing in the world was worthy of making her turn away.
The black sheep did not close its eyes either; instead, it opened them wider, gleaming brightly in the night.
Chen Changsheng did not know what to do. Drenched and dripping constantly, he looked utterly pitiful.
The middle-aged woman seemed displeased with his reaction and flicked her sleeve.
A night breeze swept over from the pond, swirling around him.
The summer night wind was not dry, but it was warm.
After a moment, his clothes were dry, from the inside out, perfectly crisp and comfortable.
Chen Changsheng was astonished, then watched as the middle-aged woman walked out of the garden with her hands behind her back.
The black sheep glanced at him, turned, and emerged from the thicket, following the woman.
In the past, when leaving the palace to return to the National Teaching Academy, the black sheep had always led the way, even after he had obtained the key. Habit was always powerful. So he followed the black sheep, following the middle-aged woman into the palace’s night, and then through a quiet, secret door, they arrived at... the Hundred Herb Garden.
Luo Luo now spent one month in the detached palace and one month in the main palace, so the Hundred Herb Garden had long been uninhabited.
Except for when he and Tang Thirty-Six came to steal herbs, Chen Changsheng had not been here in a long time.
But the Hundred Herb Garden had not changed at all. The winding corridor was still as intricate, the trees and flowers growing luxuriantly, half-covering all the paths. The table in the grove was still in its original place. On that stone table sat a teapot and two teacups, but today the tea was white tea—the brew was clear, yet the flavor was rich and fragrant.
There were many things he could not understand or figure out. For instance, why was there a teapot and teacups on the stone table when no one was in the garden? Why was the tea freshly brewed, at just the right temperature, neither hot nor cold? Why was this black sheep, which Mo Yu said was raised in the palace, so close to this middle-aged woman? How had she merely flicked her sleeve and summoned a wind to dry his hair and clothes? And who exactly was this middle-aged woman?
Her level of cultivation was unfathomably deep—at least, he could not discern it. She held a high status in the palace, moved freely, knew many of its secrets, and had an unusual attachment to the Hundred Herb Garden. Chen Changsheng had long known she was no ordinary person. He had guessed at her identity many times—from a once-favored, now-fallen consort of the late emperor to a Taoist nun who had once cultivated in the Hundred Herb Garden alongside the Holy Empress. Yet he always felt these guesses were wrong.
Chen Changsheng had stopped guessing later on. The middle-aged woman had never asked anything of him and had even helped him when convenient. And as Tang Thirty-Six had said, because of his own circumstances, he did not care too much about many things, often displaying a calmness beyond his years. Moreover, he had many secrets of his own, so he did not want to pry into others’.
More importantly, he was used to—even enjoyed—the atmosphere of sitting opposite this middle-aged woman in the Hundred Herb Garden, drinking tea in silence, though it had only happened three times.
When drinking tea in the Hundred Herb Garden, the middle-aged woman did not speak, and he did not need to. Most of the time, she gazed at the stars in the night sky or the old traces of the garden, not at him, so he did not have to be nervous. That tranquil feeling seemed to carry him back to the old temple in Xining Town, as if he were still sitting by the stream with his senior brother Yu Ren, saying nothing, needing to know each other’s thoughts, just sitting there in a daze.
Because of the Garden of Zhou incident, Chen Changsheng’s mind had been unsettled lately.
Unable to enter the Garden of Zhou, he could not finally confirm the whereabouts of that young girl, which filled him with anxiety. He desperately needed this moment of peace.
But unlike before, the tranquility he craved and cherished was shattered in the next moment.
The middle-aged woman withdrew her gaze from the stars and began to look at him.
She looked for a long time, very carefully, very calmly, very intently, as if his face held mountains, rivers, flowers, trees, clouds, and boundless scenery.
Chen Changsheng did not know why she was staring at him like this. He was bewildered and naturally grew nervous.
As time passed, she continued to gaze at him, and he became increasingly tense, until his body grew stiff.
Then, the middle-aged woman suddenly reached out and lifted his chin with the edge of her index finger.
Chen Changsheng was startled.
The first time they had drunk tea here, this middle-aged woman had touched his cheek. Back then, because of the emotion in her eyes, he had endured it and done nothing.
But touching a cheek and lifting a chin were two entirely different gestures. The former could be understood as an elder’s affection for a younger person, a reminiscence of lost feelings; the latter was more like teasing a small animal or flirting. Moreover, though the woman was old enough to be his mother, there was still a difference between men and women. This gesture was simply unacceptable to him. He tried to turn his head away, but found that an incomprehensible aura from her fingers had rendered his body immobile.
She held his chin up, scrutinizing his face carefully.
Of course, she was not flirting with a young boy or teasing a small animal, because her eyes held no affection, no reminiscence, no emotion at all.
She looked at Chen Changsheng’s face as if it were a painting, trying to see what secrets lay hidden behind it.
Chen Changsheng intensely disliked her gaze at that moment—it was too indifferent—but he could not move at all. His nostrils flared slightly, and his breath grew heavier.
If Luo Luo or Tang Thirty-Six had seen this scene, they would have known he was truly angry.
But she did not know, and even if she did, it would not affect her decision. No one and nothing could change her mind.
Yet perhaps she found Chen Changsheng like this amusing, for she smiled, then prepared to release his chin. But just then, her smile vanished, and her expression turned cold and stern, as if she had seen something on his face.
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