21 A Man on My Bed
As the carriage raced forward, the Liang palace disappeared. Before long, the city gates of Jiangling also became no more a speck in the distance. The entire journey would take seven moons, but after the second, I would be on Sui territory and bid farewell to my former land for good.
Passing by rural villages or fields, people would either cast looks of suspicion or of awe. The pattern was all the same, and there simply was no in-between. Their eyes would widen, and their fingers would involuntarily point in my direction as if I was a monster or a spirit.
In my past, when I was simply Youshi, I would have done the same. After all, other than the fancy carriage and soldiers marching alongside it, they knew nothing about my identity apart from the fact that I was a moving display of imperial power.
But looking at their reactions was so emotionally draining, vaguely reminiscent of the crowds that had once gathered to point fingers at me and call me a curse.
With each look I received, I curled my arm tighter around the wooden box the empress had gifted me with. More than once, my fingers hovered above the lid, tempted to open it. And yet, each time, they dropped back down, afraid of what they might find.
Finally, I mustered enough courage to open it. A terribly misshapen red bean pastry rested on top of a white porcelain plate. For a moment, I held it in my palms, treasuring it as if it was worth the whole world. One side was a bit singed, and the other was uneven, the sesames sliding off the top.
Underneath was a handwritten note along with my uncle's poetry book, "The Songs of the South." As if second nature, my hands intrinsically ran over its cover to smooth out its bends. But the entire time, my eyes were focused on the letter.
Though I had but seen it once before, the handwriting was so recognizable.
"Dear Youshi, never forget the taste of the South. I know that I do not deserve the title of your mother, but let me indulge in this simple wish just once. I wanted to know what you thought when you bit into it this morning, but seeing you sleep so soundly was enough."
A tear stain blurred the last character, but whether it was from her or me, I did not know.
Gingerly, I took a small bite into the pastry, one hand cupped under to catch any crumbs.
"Delicious," I said after swallowing the bite of the handmade pastry. It was a bit too dry, a portion sticking to the roof of my mouth. Still, to me, it was really the best I had ever eaten.
I nibbled on it again, trying to leave as much as I could so that it didn't all disappear at once. The sweet aftertaste lingered, and though I knew I shouldn't and that it was against royal decency, I licked my lips.
"Mother, Youshi misses home," I whispered, but only the still air responded.
---
The next day was a repeat of the previous, and I read the letter over and over again, imagining their warmth next to mine.
If my aunt were here, she would surely comment on the dullness of Northern cuisine. But perhaps it was better than my uncle wasn't. He would have no room to pace around in this carriage. As for A'Yu and the empress, I realized that I never knew enough about them even to have the right to speculate.
What would she do in my situation? I thought over and over again, trying to understand what it meant to act like royalty. Or simply put, there wasn't anything else I could do confined to the carriage.
But no matter my opinions, the carriage mechanically continued on its course, stopping only for a meal or a short break. Soon, I couldn't even feel my legs as numbness overtook all other sensations. Sitting straight for countless hours was much more tiring than it appeared to be, and the few brief moments of fresh air became a much-needed blessing. The soft cushions I initially marveled at became my worst nightmare.
By the time the carriage rolled into an inn, as soon as I arrived in the room, I collapsed onto the bed, too tired to even remove my clothes.
I knew it was improper, and every muscle fought against it. Yet when my body came into contact with the soft bed, I melted into it and became one with it, falling into a comfortable slumber.
I didn't know for how long I was asleep, only that I felt a weight on top of me when I awoke.
"Don't scream, or I'll run this through your pretty face." The voice was muffled.
A cold blade met my skin.
Slowly, in the reverse direction of the blade's direction, I ever-so-slightly tilted my head.
"I said not to move!" This time, I heard the hint of dialect clearly.
This man was from Chen.
