Spring Remains the Same - Chapter 3

A fierce pain wracked her body. She couldn’t tell where it originated, but sharp, intense waves made it impossible to rest. Puyang struggled to open her eyes, and the wound on her abdomen instantly flared with excruciating pain. She subconsciously tried to raise her hand to touch it but couldn’t muster any strength. A few attempts only made the wound hurt more, so she reluctantly closed her eyes again, slowly trying to adapt.

Perhaps sensing she was awake, light footsteps sounded from outside, and then someone pushed the door open and entered.

Puyang turned her head slightly and saw a young woman of about fifteen or sixteen enter. Perhaps because she was now conscious, the wound seemed to have reawakened as well, growing even more painful. Puyang forced herself to endure it, fixing her gaze on the woman who had come in.

Seeing that she was awake, the woman approached the bedside. Her features were gentle and her expression humble—a humility that suited her so well it seemed innate. She must be a maidservant, Puyang concluded silently.

The maidservant asked, “The young lady is awake?”

Puyang was still groggy and weak. She struggled to keep her mind clear, forcing herself to remain lucid as she impassively watched the maidservant. Her situation was unclear, so she did not speak rashly.

The maidservant seemed to have some medical knowledge. She leaned over to check Puyang’s complexion, a faint smile touching her lips. “Now that the young lady is awake, there is no great cause for concern,” she said. “With plenty of rest, you will make a full recovery.”

Hearing that her wounds were not life-threatening, Puyang relaxed slightly. She spoke, her breath unsteady and her voice hoarse and faint, “May I ask who resides in this household? Who was it that saved me?”

The maidservant listened carefully. When Puyang had finished, she replied, “My young master has built his hermitage here. Two days ago, he went out in the morning to fetch water and found you collapsed by the path. Seeing that you could still be saved, he had you brought back.”

There were no obvious flaws in her explanation, but since Puyang still did not know the identity of her rescuer, she dared not say more. She simply said, “My thanks to your young master.”

Hearing this, the maidservant returned a bow on her master’s behalf and then withdrew.

Her life was safe for the moment. Puyang relaxed a little, watching the maidservant leave as she began to ponder her situation.

The pain in her body was even harder to bear than when she had first woken up. Puyang gritted her teeth, trying her best to keep her mind clear.

There had been many assassins that day. She had fled north under the protection of her armored guards, but the enemy was too numerous and powerful. Though her guards fought to the death, she was still wounded. With only a few guards left, she fled into the mountains, using the rugged terrain and dense woods to escape her pursuers. As she traveled, her wound worsened and bled profusely. Knowing the assassins could follow her trail of bl00d, she had taken off her outer robe to stanch the flow. The will to live had driven her deeper into the mountains, until she could no longer take another step and lost consciousness.

Assassinating a princess was a capital offense; no one would dare attempt it without a powerful incentive. Her trip to the villa was known only to her close attendants and His Majesty. To lay an ambush on the road there, someone close to her must have leaked the news. Who could it be? And who was it that wanted her dead?

Question after question flashed through her mind. What was the situation in the palace? Was she safe here? Puyang gradually slipped into confusion, the questions remaining unanswered as she lost consciousness again.

First, there was the excessive bl00d loss, then two days of unconsciousness without a single grain of rice. Even a body of iron could not withstand such an ordeal, let alone a woman of Puyang’s delicate constitution. She lay in a stupor, her consciousness hazy. Her body felt scorching hot, as if she were being roasted in a furnace, and her mouth was terribly dry. She tried to call for someone but could not make a sound, as if something were lodged in her throat.

Unable to struggle, unable to exert any strength, Puyang was consumed by panic. The aftershock of her near-death experience was still fresh, and this complete lack of control filled her with terror.

She tried with all her might to open her eyes, to open her mouth and scream, but her body seemed not to be her own and refused to obey.

She heard someone sigh, followed by a cool, damp sensation on her forehead. Water moistened her lips, bringing considerable relief. She remembered the young master the maidservant had mentioned. He had saved her. If he had wanted her dead, he could have simply left her to her fate; why go to the trouble of bringing her back? The thought brought a measure of comfort. Her panic, unease, and anxiety slowly faded, and she drifted back into a deep sleep.

When she next awoke, the sky was pitch-black. A single bronze lamp lit the room, casting dim shadows that made it difficult to see. Puyang shifted, her body feeling sticky and uncomfortable. The air she breathed felt hotter than usual; she knew she had a fever.

Someone approached. Puyang lifted her head slightly to see the same maidservant from before walk to her bedside. Seeing her awake, the maidservant said cheerfully, “The young lady is awake? This is a good time to take your medicine.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and left, returning a moment later with a bowl of medicine in her hands.

After her recent fainting spell, Puyang was keenly aware that she was a patient with no strength to even truss a chicken. It was best to be obedient; taking the medicine and recovering quickly was the wisest course of action. When the maidservant came to help her, she cooperated, trying to exert what little strength she had. The movement pulled at her wound, and she could not help but frown, enduring the sharp pain as she sat up slightly.

The medicinal broth was bitter, numbing, and slightly sour—enough to make one retch. Having not eaten for days, Puyang’s empty stomach was especially sensitive. Yet she endured it, sipping it down mouthful by mouthful until nothing was left. After finishing the bowl, she broke out in a sweat.

The maidservant did not converse with her. After feeding her the medicine and helping her lie back down, she withdrew.

Puyang didn’t have much energy for anything else. After taking the medicine, a wave of drowsiness washed over her, and she fell asleep.

She woke early the next morning to find the same maidservant, who brought thin congee and fed it to her. The maidservant’s demeanor was humble, and she was adept at her duties. She did not speak much with her guest, keeping her eyes lowered in a very attentive and proper manner, which suggested that the master of the house possessed excellent bearing. One could often gauge a household’s discipline by its servants. Judging a master by their servant might not be perfectly accurate, but it was rarely far from the truth.

After eating the congee, with food in her stomach, Puyang’s spirits improved considerably. She remained in bed, carefully recuperating. After some time had passed, the maidservant brought her medicine. She drank it all as she had the night before, then tentatively tried to start a conversation.

“May I ask who your esteemed master is?”

The maidservant was clearing away the medicine bowl. Hearing the question, she set down the things in her hand, lowered her head, and said, “My master lives in seclusion in these mountains and has no great reputation in the world.”

Puyang understood. Hearing her previous mention of “building a hermitage,” she knew this was the dwelling of a recluse.

People often mistakenly believed that recluses were poor and of humble origins. In truth, there were also lofty scholars from great clans who lived in seclusion in the mountains and forests, either to focus on attaining the Dao or simply because they cherished a life of freedom. Such recluses often possessed talents surpassing ordinary men and would eventually become famous. Once their reputation was great enough, they would be summoned by the Son of Heaven to serve as officials at court. During the previous dynasty, a scion of a great clan, deeming his official post too minor, had resigned to live in seclusion. A decade later, his fame had grown so immense that the emperor of the time appointed him to a high office, a story that became a celebrated tale.

Seeing the maidservant’s disciplined and proper conduct, Puyang surmised that her master must be from a great clan. If he possessed great talent, he should not be wasting it away in the countryside.

Though she thought this, Puyang was not impatient. She gave a gentle smile and asked no more questions.

Recovering from an injury was a tedious affair, especially since Puyang’s thoughts were with the capital. She wondered about the situation in the palace; if her father learned of the assassination attempt, he would surely be overcome with rage. Lying on the bed, every moment passed with excruciating slowness. Fortunately, the medicine the maidservant provided was highly effective, and her wound was gradually healing.

After three days, Puyang could take a couple of steps with the maidservant’s support. After another three days, she could walk a full circuit around her room.

“Who prescribed this medicine?” No one had checked her pulse these past few days, yet the medicine she took was perfectly suited to her injuries. Even the imperial physicians in the palace might not possess such skill. After taking a few steps, Puyang could not help but ask.

The maidservant replied, “It was my young master who diagnosed the young lady. The young master’s medical skills are superb; the young lady can rest assured.”

It was him. The maidservant held her young master in the highest esteem, yet in all the days Puyang had been recuperating here, this young master had never once appeared. Even if she were merely a guest, it was impolite not to meet the host, let alone when she owed him her life. Puyang thought for a moment, then said, “I was unable to walk these past few days and did not wish to be a bother. Now that I can walk, may I ask where your esteemed master is? I wish to see him and offer my thanks in person.”

The maidservant seemed to have anticipated this question. She looked up at the sky and said, “Allow this servant to support you.”

She hadn’t realized it inside the room, but once she stepped out, she knew she was truly in the mountains. Towering cliffs flanked them, surrounded by lush, shady trees. Now and then, a bird would fly past, its distant call echoing in the air, creating a scene of serene tranquility.

The place was a thatched cottage, but it covered a considerable area. The maidservant supported Puyang as they walked around the cottage to the back, where they came upon a dense bamboo grove.

“The young master is in the grove,” the maidservant said.

It was late spring. The green bamboo swayed gracefully, the wind rustling through the leaves with a soft, whispering sound. Puyang stood still for a moment, then gestured for the maidservant to help her walk deeper into the grove.

The ground was covered with a thick layer of fallen leaves, soft to the tread. Puyang walked in step by step. Before long, she saw the figure of a person. His back was to her, and he was seated in a wheelchair. He wore a green robe, his posture erect, and his entire being was suffused with an aura as tranquil as still water.

The moment Puyang saw the wheelchair, she stopped dead in her tracks.