Chapter Ten: A Trust Entrusted

The little horse and the figurine were finally both finished, and today Lu Jing found himself unable to wait a moment longer.

Having only just finished his morning meal, he arrived at the kiln yard early, and Zhang Ning, holding one piece in each hand, personally placed them into Lu Jing's own. Lu Jing had brought along a brocade box from the Lu residence, and set the figurine carefully inside — its size fit perfectly. As for the little horse, he kept it cupped in his palm, turning it over and over, examining every detail.

"Aning's hands are truly skillful." Lu Jing was clearly reluctant to set it down; the little horse was not only handsome and pleasant to hold, but its texture was warm and smooth beneath his touch as well.

"From now on, with this to keep you company, my lord, you need never envy anyone else again." Seeing how genuinely Lu Jing treasured her work, and hearing him praise her craftsmanship yet again, a flush of pink rose to Zhang Ning's cheeks.

Lu Jing nodded, smiling, stroking the horse's head, then called for a servant to bring an exotically decorated brocade box.

"Here." Lu Jing held out the box to Zhang Ning.

Zhang Ning felt a strange sense of familiarity — she seemed to have some recollection of this very box. On a rainy day a little over a year ago, this was precisely what Lu Jing had been holding when he first walked into the kiln yard. Amid the torrential rain, his servants had held umbrellas over him, and yet it was this box he had guarded so tightly.

That had been the moment of their very first meeting.

Zhang Ning took the box and opened it — inside lay that crystalline, dazzlingly brilliant piece of glassware, the treasure Lu Jing had once made a special trip to the West Market to purchase at great expense from the Hu merchants.

"This thing is far too precious, and it is something you treasure dearly, my lord — Aning cannot possibly accept it." Zhang Ning shook her head in alarm and tried to push the box back toward him.

"You have helped me fulfill a wish, Aning — that is more precious than anything else could ever be. It is precisely because I have always cherished this glass piece so deeply that its worth can now serve to show just how much value the little horse and the figurine truly hold. The glassware is merely an object beyond myself; the horse and the figurine are not. This bond of feeling is a treasure beyond price."

Lu Jing offered the box to Zhang Ning once more, adding, "You gave me the horse and the figurine, Aning — and as they say, 'courtesy calls for reciprocity.' This glassware is simply my own token of gratitude. You mustn't refuse it again."

Hearing this, Zhang Ning felt her uneasy heart settle considerably, and she accepted the box with a smile. "Aning will certainly keep this glassware of yours safe and sound, my lord. Whenever you wish to see it again, just say the word to Aning."

"Good." Lu Jing smiled — in truth, was he really so petty as that, to give something away and then keep fretting over it afterward? He was simply saying this deliberately, to set Zhang Ning's mind at ease.

And yet the days would not linger forever in such beautiful moments. Every so often, Lu Jing found himself unable to visit the kiln yard at all, his heart illness flaring up again and again, sometimes so severe that he could not even rise from his bed, confined to convalescence within the residence. The Zhang siblings, too, began to notice that his complexion looked worse and worse each time — that face, already so pale, growing paler still. Yet whenever his condition improved even slightly, Lu Jing would still rush back to the kiln yard, as though every single day he failed to visit was a day forever lost.

Then, for several days in a row, the Zhang siblings saw nothing of Lu Jing at all. At first the two of them simply assumed his heart illness had flared up again and that he was resting at the residence — until, one day, Amo came to the kiln yard alone. Zhang Ning looked behind him, but Lu Jing was nowhere to be seen, nor was there any trace of that whole noisy crowd of servants. A sense of foreboding suddenly welled up within her.

"Where is the young master?" Zhang Ning asked urgently.

At this, Amo quietly wiped away a tear and said, "The young master's condition has taken a grave turn for the worse. He may be at the very edge of his final hours. He begs that the two of you come to the residence — there is something he wishes to entrust to you."

***

The Zhang siblings followed Amo to the Lu residence. Before they had even entered the gate, Zhang Ning found herself instinctively looking up at the towering courtyard walls. Suddenly she remembered what Amo had once told them — how, during the time the lady of the house had forbidden the young master from leaving the residence, he had actually tried to climb over the wall to escape, only to fail at the very last moment and be caught red-handed by his grandfather... Only now, seeing it with her own eyes, did she truly understand how astonishingly high these walls were. Zhang Ning gazed up for a long moment, uncertain whether to laugh or weep, and could only follow Amo silently through the gate.

They followed Amo through the courtyards, then along the winding corridor deeper into the inner residence, passing one courtyard after another, until at last they arrived before Lu Jing's bed. They saw him lying there in a soft, plain white silk under-robe, his long hair loose and unbound, utterly without strength, his face haggard with illness and almost entirely without color. Yet from a distance, Zhang Ning could already see that his right hand was clutched tightly around the little horse she had shaped for him that day.

At this sight, Aning could no longer hold herself together, and began to weep softly.

Lu Jing's mother had already been supported by her maids, ceaselessly dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief.

"Aning, don't cry... this day... was always going to come... and so... I have obtained Grandfather's consent... I ask the two of you... to make me a few pieces of funerary ware with your own hands... to see me off... on this final journey." Lu Jing spoke with tremendous difficulty, gasping for breath between words.

"Rest easy, my lord — Aning and I will see it done." Zhang Ping, holding back his grief, agreed at once.

"Thank..." Lu Jing had only just managed the single word "thank" when he could speak no more. In the end he only gazed at Zhang Ning, a faint smile lingering upon his face, and the rise and fall of his chest gradually slowed, and then, at last, stilled altogether...