Chapter 11 — The Lotus Pond’s Memory
Behind the academy was a lotus pond.
The stems were half-withered, the leaves ragged at the edges. Autumn had stripped away the lushness, leaving only what was stubborn enough to remain.
Lin Jingran walked beside me, impatient, his boots crunching on gravel.
“Do you know how humiliating this is?” he snapped. “You let that man”
“That man,” I echoed, stopping at the pond’s edge.
The water was dark, reflecting broken sky.
I looked at Lin Jingran and realized, with a strange calm, that he truly did not recognize this place.
Not in the way I did.
“Do you remember?” I asked.
He blinked. “Remember what? Stop wasting time.”
Of course he didn’t.
Three years ago, I had changed my whole world to orbit him.
And he couldn’t even remember where he had thrown my effort away.
I let out a breath that might have been a laugh, might have been sorrow.
“Never mind,” I said. “It doesn”t matter.
He seized on the opening, softening his voice with practiced ease.
“I told you,” he insisted, frustration threading under the coaxing tone, “next year. I said next year I”ll marry you. I meant it. I won“t lie again.”
Next year.
The words felt like old dust in my mouth.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice, as if secrecy could make sincerity.
“We”ll go home,“ he said. ”We“ll marry. No more ding tax. No more waiting.”
He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small embroidered pouch.
“A gift,” he said quickly. “You wanted one. I bought it.”
The pouch was ordinary—pretty enough, but nothing like the lavish trinkets he scattered for singers on the river.
I stared at it without moving.
“Take it,” he urged, eyes searching mine for the old weakness he used to lean on. “You always wanted this.”
I could have laughed.
I had wanted a wedding dress once, too.
I had pawned it.
For a tax he had raised.
“Don”t, I said quietly.
His brow furrowed. “Don”t what?
“Don”t talk as if you didn“t do this,” I said, and the calm in me hardened into steel. “Don”t talk as if you were the one who suffered.
His expression tightened. “You”re blaming me? You
I lifted a hand to stop him, not because I feared him, but because I was finished listening.
“Lin Jingran,” I said, “you”ve said “next year” every year.
He opened his mouth, angry, but I continued before he could interrupt.
“I can forgive once,” I said. “Maybe twice.”
The pond water rippled. A bird cried somewhere far off.
“But not three times,” I finished. “My patience has an end. You spent it.”
For a moment, he looked truly startled, as if he had never considered that patience could run out.
“But you haven”t even bowed to Heaven and Earth,“ he said quickly, grasping for a loophole. ”You and Teacher Shen haven“t”
“Haven”t what?“ I cut in, voice sweet again, cruel in its calmness. ”Haven“t made it official enough for your pride?”
His cheeks flushed with anger.
He thrust the pouch toward me, desperate now.
“Take it,” he said, almost pleading. “Just take it. You know I”
I looked at the pouch, then at his face.
Then I smiled, the kind of smile I used to give him when I was still trying to survive.
“Put it down,” I said lightly.
He blinked.
“If you put it down,” I added, making my voice almost playful, “I”ll marry you.
Hope flared in his eyes so fast it was almost comical.
His fingers loosened.
And then, at the last second, he froze.
His face twisted, caught between belief and suspicion.
He knew.
He knew the difference between a lie and a promise, because he had been lying for years.
His hand tightened around the pouch again.
The hope in his eyes curdled into rage.
“You” he began.
I let my smile fade.
“See?” I said softly. “It”s easy to tell.
His jaw clenched until the muscle jumped.
“Shen Nanzhi,” he said, voice shaking, “you”re doing this to hurt me.
“No,” I replied, and it was the simplest truth I had ever spoken to him. “I”m doing this to save myself.
I turned away from the pond.
Behind me, Lin Jingran stood rigid, clutching the pouch like a child clutching a toy he’d broken and suddenly wanted back.
And as I walked toward the academy lights, the chill in the air felt clean.
Because for the first time in four years
I wasn’t waiting for next year.