The seventh year of the Former Era, March.
The late spring chill in Chang'an had not yet receded. The wind filtering through the workshop's paper windows was cold. It had been thirty-seven days since I arrived in this Han palace.
The workshop was so quiet that the only sound was the clinking of tweezers against copper sheets.
I sat at the workbench. Before me lay a bronze mirror—the one I hadn't finished repairing three days ago. The fragments were arranged by number, the fractures cleaned, waiting only to be joined.
But I did not move. Not because it was difficult, but because I was waiting for the raw lacquer to dry completely.
After handing over the bronzeding, I thought I would have a few days of peace. (As it turned out), I had underestimated a Crown Prince's patience.
"Lady Lu."
A voice came from the doorway. It wasn't a eunuch, but the maid named Qingxing—the round-faced girl Liu Che had sent to "serve" me last time. She hadn't left; she reported to the workshop on time every day, impossible to chase away.
"This was sent by His Highness."
She held a food box with both hands, carefully placing it on the corner of the workbench.
I didn't look up. "Leave it there."
"His Highness said Lady Lu should eat it while it's hot."
"Mm."
Qingxing didn't leave. She stood there, hesitating.
I put down the tweezers and looked at her. "What is it?"
"His Highness also said..." She bit her lip. "He said if Lady Lu only eats half a flatbread again, he will remove the charcoal brazier from the workshop."
I fell silent.Three days ago. How did he know how much I ate?
"What else did he say?"
"His Highness said the late spring chill in Chang'an makes the workshop cold. If Lady Lu falls ill from hunger, there will be no one to repair things for him."
I pressed my lips together. It sounded like a threat, yet something felt off about it.
"Understood," I said. "Put it down."
Qingxing looked relieved. She opened the food box. Inside was a bowl of hot porridge, a plate of steamed cakes, and a few side dishes. The porridge was still warm, with a layer of rice oil floating on top.
I was indeed hungry. Yesterday I had only gnawed on a piece of dry cake all day, and I had eaten nothing this morning. I picked up a steamed cake and took a bite. It was sweet, filled with jujube paste.
After eating, warmth spread through my stomach, and my spirits lifted slightly. I returned to the workbench and picked up the tweezers.
The fragments of the bronze mirror were fewer than those of theding, but more shattered. The edges were thin, the fractures sharp. This was truly broken by a fall—unlike the bronzeding, this mirror had genuinely been smashed by someone.
I applied raw lacquer to the first fragment, aligned it with the adjacent fracture, and pressed down gently. The force had to be even—not too heavy, not too light. Too heavy would squeeze out the lacquer; too light would fail to bond.
Doing this required absolute focus.
So when footsteps sounded again, I did not look up.
The footsteps stopped in front of the workbench.
Not Qingxing. She walked lightly, like a cat. These footsteps were heavy, steady, carrying an undeniable presence.
I raised my head.
Liu Che stood before the workbench, looking down at the bronze mirror in my hands.
Casual robes again. No crown. This time, not even a jade hairpin; his hair was loosely tied back, with a few stray strands hanging by his ears.
He looked as if he had just finished sword practice. His robe was slightly open at the chest, where a thin layer of sweat glistened.
"Does Your Highness have business?" I asked.
"Passing by."Passing by again.
I said nothing, lowering my head to continue joining the fragments.
He showed no intention of leaving. Instead, he sat down opposite the workbench—directly on the floor, bringing his eyes level with mine.
My hand paused mid-motion.A Crown Prince, sitting on the floor?
"Your Highness, the floor is cold."
"Do you govern me?"
I shut my mouth.
He leaned against a pillar, one knee bent, his posture lazily unrefined. He looked nothing like the dignified Crown Prince seated in the main hall.
"What is this?" he asked, pointing to the bronze mirror.
"A bronze mirror."
"I know it's a bronze mirror. Whose is it?"
"I don't know," I said. "Dug out from the storage room. It has been shattered for many years."
"Can it be repaired?"
"Yes. But it needs time."
"How long?"
"Half a month."
He raised an eyebrow. "That long?"
"This mirror was smashed too thoroughly. Some fragments are no larger than a fingernail." I picked up a piece with tweezers to show him. "Each piece must be found its correct position; the order cannot be wrong. One mistake, and everything behind it goes awry."
He looked at the fragment in my hand without speaking.
I continued working.
Apply lacquer, join, fix. Each piece had to wait for initial curing before I could let go; my hand could not tremble.
He just watched me. Quietly. Intently.
"Lu Xingye." He suddenly spoke.
"Mm."
"Where do you come from?"
My fingers tightened slightly.
"Hasn't Your Highness investigated my background?" I said. "A selected woman, died of illness, picked up—"
"That is not what I am asking."
I stopped my work and looked up at him.
His gaze was calm, but beneath it lay something sharp.
"You do not speak like the people here," he said. "Your hands are not like the people here. The way you repair things... I have never seen it."
I was silent for a moment.
"What does Your Highness wish to hear?"
"The truth."
"The truth is..." I lowered my head, continuing to join the fragments. "I come from a very far place. There, people restore artifacts using science, not just craftsmanship."
"Science?"
"It is..." I paused, searching for a phrase he could understand. "...'Gewu Zhizhi' (investigating things to extend knowledge). Understanding the principles of how things work, and then using those principles to repair them."
"'Gewu Zhizhi'..." He repeated. "The Confucian doctrine?"
"Not entirely," I said. "We investigate the object itself. The composition of the copper, the cause of corrosion, the mechanism of fracture. Only by understanding these can we know how to repair."
He said nothing.
I continued joining fragments; he remained silent. The workshop held only the sound of tweezers touching copper.
A long time passed. So long that I thought he would not speak again, until he suddenly said:
"In that place, did you also repair things like this?"
"Mm."
"Alone?"
"Alone," I said. "In the restoration studio, everyone has their own workstation; we do not disturb each other."
"Is it not lonely?"
I looked up at him.
His expression was faint, but there was something strange in his eyes. Not curiosity, but more like... a certain resonance.
"I am used to it," I said.
He nodded and asked no more.
"Does Your Highness not need to attend court?" I asked after a while.
"Today is a day of rest."
"Oh."
"Are you trying to drive me away?"
"No," I said. "Just curious."
"Curious about what?"
"Curious why a Crown Prince keeps running to visit a woman who repairs things."
He was silent for a moment.
"Because you do not fear me."
I looked at him.
His expression was calm.
"People in the palace," he said, "either fear me or seek favors from me. And you?"
"Me?"
"You neither fear nor seek." He looked at me. "Then what do you take me for?"
I thought for a moment.
"A client."
"What?"
"It means..." I changed my phrasing. "The person who pays me to work. In my place, the client calls the shots, and the contractor does the work. But a good client does not keep talking while the contractor is working."
He looked at me, then suddenly narrowed his eyes.
"You are insulting me."
"No."
"You are insulting me."
I lowered my head, pressing my lips flat to suppress a smile.
"I wouldn't dare."
He snorted but did not pursue it.
The workshop fell quiet again. Only the clinking of tweezers against copper and the occasional rustle of his robes shifting.
Qingxing peeked at us from the corner, her eyes bright.
"Lu Xingye." He spoke again.
"Mm."
"The things you repair... will they stay well forever?"
I stopped my work.
This was a strange question.
"Theoretically," I said, "if repaired well and preserved properly, they can last for hundreds of years more."
"And if they break again?"
"Then repair them again."
"Break again, repair again?"
"Yes," I said. "That is the work of a restorer. Things age, break, shatter. All we can do is make them live a little longer."
He said nothing. His gaze fell on the bronze mirror fragments on the workbench, watching the patterns I was piecing back together, piece by piece.
The silence lasted a long time.
So long that I thought the topic had passed, before he finally spoke.
"People are the same."
His voice was very light, as if speaking to himself.
The tweezers in my hand paused.
"What?"
"People also age, break, shatter." He leaned against the pillar, his gaze fixed on something outside the window, his expression faint. "Can they be repaired too?"
I did not answer immediately.
Wind blew through the window outside, making the paper rustle softly.
I lowered my head and continued joining the fragments in my hand.
"They cannot," I said.
He turned to look at me.
"When a human heart breaks, it cannot be repaired," I said. "Even if glued back together, there will be cracks. Unlike artifacts, where filling the color hides the damage."
He said nothing. He just looked at me, with something in his eyes I could not decipher.
"And you?" he asked. "Has your heart ever broken?"
I thought about it.
"No," I said. "Because there has been nothing worth giving away."
He paused.
Then he laughed.
Not the light chuckle from before, but a true laugh, overflowing from his chest. The sound echoed in the empty workshop, startling Qingxing in the corner.
"Good," he said, laughter still lingering in the corners of his eyes. "I will remember that."
He stood up and brushed the dust from his robes.
"I am leaving."
"Mm."
"I will come again tomorrow."
"...Your Highness does not need to come every day."
"I come when I wish to."
He reached the door and stopped.
"Lu Xingye."
"I am here."
"You said a broken human heart cannot be repaired." He turned his head sideways. Light fell on half his face, the other half sunk in shadow, his expression unreadable. "But if—"
He stopped.
Silence for a moment.
"Nothing."
Then he left.
The workshop became quiet again.
I looked down at the bronze mirror fragments in my hand, realizing my fingers had stopped in mid-air, unmoving for a long time.
I put down the tweezers and took a deep breath.
Outside the window was the sky of Chang'an, gray and hazy, limiting visibility.
I picked up the tweezers again and continued joining the fragments. One piece, then another.
My fingers were steady.
Just as always.
[End of Chapter 3]