For several days, Zhang Sheng became a unique sight at Pujiu Temple.
Without fail, every day he would "coincidentally" encounter her outside the Dharma Hall in the morning, and "express his feelings" beneath the west wing wall at night. His poems grew bolder by the day, more deeply passionate with each passing moment.
All the monks of Pujiu Temple, even the Cui family's maidservants, knew about the lovesick scholar in the west wing who had fallen for the prime minister's daughter. Though no one spoke of it openly, everyone secretly enjoyed the drama.
Lady Cui had also heard rumors, but dismissed him as merely an arrogant scholar who didn't know his place, and paid him no mind. In her view, such a poor scholar wasn't even qualified to speak to her daughter, let alone pose any threat.
But for the two at the center of this storm, each day was both torment and sweetness.
Zhang Sheng's longing penetrated to his bones, making him grow increasingly thin.
Yingying was consumed with worry, her heart in turmoil. She felt both embarrassed by Zhang's undisguised affection and captivated by his overwhelming talent. Born into a noble family, she had been raised to be dignified and proper, to follow the three obediences and four virtues. Yet deep in her heart, a young woman's desire for love was slowly being ignited by Zhang Sheng's passionate flame.
That night, Zhang Sheng recited poetry beneath the wall as usual, but his voice carried a hint of sickly hoarseness and weakness. Days of emotional torment and loss of appetite had finally taken their toll.
"My spring heart has nowhere to entrust, my core harbors hidden fire. Thinking of my beloved, I gaze from the makeup tower, mistaking so many times the beating drums for song..."
He recited weakly, nearly fainting.
In the embroidery tower, Yingying listened to his sickly voice, her heart aching as if pierced by needles. She knew he was ill, and ill because of her.
"Hong Niang..." she called softly.
"Yes, miss?" Hong Niang appeared instantly by her side. Over these past days, her attitude had shifted from initial "hostility" to "watching the show," and she had even begun to feel some "sympathy" for that fool outside the wall.
"Could you... go check on him for me?" Yingying's voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz. "Just tell him... tell him to stop reciting and disturbing people's sleep."
Hong Niang burst into laughter: "Miss, that's a terrible excuse. Are you worried he's disturbing your sleep, or worried he might recite himself to death?"
Caught out, Yingying grew both angry and anxious: "You talk too much! Are you going or not?"
"Yes, yes, yes, my dear miss. How could I dare refuse your orders?" Hong Niang said with a smile as she turned to leave.
"Wait!" Yingying stopped her, picking up a recently fallen peach blossom petal from the vase on the windowsill. She hesitated, bit her lip, then quickly walked to her desk and used a fine brush tip to write two characters on the petal.
When she finished, she carefully handed the petal to Hong Niang, her face completely flushed: "Take this... to him as well."
Hong Niang took the petal and examined it under the lamp, seeing two delicate characters:
[Take care]
Hong Niang's heart trembled, then understood.
Her young lady was finally responding.
She solemnly tucked the petal into her sleeve, quickly left the embroidery tower, and made her way to the outside of the west wing wall.
Zhang Sheng was leaning against the wall, barely able to support himself. When he saw Hong Niang approach, a glimmer of hope flashed in his eyes.
"Young Master Zhang," Hong Niang said sternly, mimicking Yingying's tone, "my young lady asks me to inform you to please stop making noise in the middle of the night and disturbing people's rest!"
Hearing this, Zhang Sheng turned pale, his eyes instantly dimming as his body swayed, nearly collapsing.
It's over. She's finally grown tired of me.
Seeing his devastated expression, Hong Niang felt both sympathetic and amused. She cleared her throat and took out the peach blossom petal from her sleeve, holding it out to him.
"However, my kind-hearted young lady, seeing how seriously ill you are, has sent you a 'prescription'."
Zhang Sheng confusedly took the petal and, in the moonlight, saw those two elegant characters "Take care," which exploded like two thunderclaps in his mind!
It's her handwriting! She cares about me!
In that instant, all his illness, longing, and despair vanished. Immense joy surged through him, making him feel as if he could fly.
"Thank you, Miss Hong Niang! Thank you! This kindness, this favor, Zhang Sheng will never forget!" He was so excited he could barely speak coherently as he bowed deeply to Hong Niang.
Hong Niang proudly lifted her chin: "Now you know how good I am? Be nice to me from now on. And now that you've got your prescription, hurry back and rest. If you really die of illness, no one will be here to bury you!"
With that, she turned and walked away with light, quick steps.
Zhang Sheng held the tiny petal as if it were a priceless treasure. He knew that from this moment on, this seemingly hopeless love finally had its first ray of dawn.
Between him and Yingying stood a high wall, but now they had found their perfect messenger.
The door to love had opened just a crack for him.