363: Snow Buries the Artist

Snow Buries the Artist

He looked tired, Yujia thought. Her master, who she knew to be so spirited and lively, appeared exhausted, lying in that bed, eyes barely open. Was this really just the cruel work of disease? Or had time finally caught up to him?1

Though he looked weary, simultaneously, there was a certain degree of calmness to his exhaustion. He almost looked at peace.

At this very moment, Yujia found herself at a loss for words. The words failed her, so much that her mouth was refusing to open and speak a single thing. 

In response to her silence, her master continued, "He told you, didn't he?"

The physician bowed his head. Yujia managed a nod.

Her master closed his eyes. A deep sigh escaped from him. "My time will eventually come to an end, but right now is too early. I don't plan on going anytime soon."

"But—" she whispered out.

"I'll drink my medicine more on time; I'll take better care of myself." He coughed a few times, placing his hand on his chest. Hearing the sound of his cough, Yujia's eyebrows immediately knitted. Her master managed a gentle smile. "When I tell you not to worry, kid, I mean it."

The conversation ended there. Insisting that their master needed rest, the physician ushered both Yujia and her senior brother out. Reluctantly, Yujia and Yunhe walked out of the room, the courtyard, and paused in the corridors.

Yujia felt that her eyes were still watering. She clenched her fingers into a fist, forcing any signs of tears to go away. "How could he," she whispered, "insist that everything is fine?"

Yunhe, seeing her expression, said, "The more you weep, the sadder Master would be too. He does not want to see you like that."

She knew that. Of course her master did not wish to see her drowning in a pit of her own sadness either. Would he blame himself, she wondered? But it wasn't his fault. None of this was.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Yujia looked down. She began to walk down the corridor. Yunhe followed behind her quickly.

Pausing in her steps, she told Yunhe, "I need some time alone." 

He didn't follow her after that. 

… 

Yujia sat in her courtyard, under the plum tree that, just earlier this morning, she was just chatting happily with Zixu below. She wrapped her head under her arms, eyes squeezed shut.

Before, she once felt pity for her master. Pity for his past, pity for the tragedy that fell upon him. But had she really, truly sympathized with him? 

Even earlier, she was angry at the physician for not curing her master. But why was she angry? Was it not at the thought that her master would be leaving her? Was it not a selfish desire to keep him alive simply because she didn't want to return to the days of not having anyone?

It seemed a little ridiculous to her, the idea that her not wanting her loved ones to die being a selfish desire. Yet when she recalled the peaceful look on her master's face, she could hardly see it as anything but selfish.

He was calm because he had been anticipating it. He had lived for so long, far more than he might've wanted. Death, at this point, might've been a release to him. If earlier, she had thought for just a second in his position, she would've realized that.

So, in the end, it was her being selfish.

Yujia looked up now at the gray skies. Snow still drifted down, ever so slowly.

She should've apologized to the physician earlier for yelling at him. She should've apologized to her master for raising her voice and waking him. 

They never said how much time her master still had left. During that time she still had left with him, she should take care of him more. Cherish their moments together more. It was a bit too late, but better to realize late than never.

With something hot rolling onto her cheek, Yujia realized she was crying again. 

…

Yujia thought that she would've liked to be buried in the snow forever. She would've liked to let the ice envelope her, shielding her eyes from the reality of the world around her, pushing her under the ground until she was deep enough that no one would find her. Deep enough so that when they dug her up, centuries later, there would be nothing left but the white of her bones.

Except, as she sat in the snow, fingertips freezing in the cold, the snow never fell fast enough to do so.

In a few moments, Xie Yufeng emerged from her room, carrying a fur cloak. Yufeng walked to where Yujia was, then stopped. She held a free hand out. "Get up," she said.

Yujia's chin tilted upwards. She hadn't even realized Yufeng was there until she heard Yufeng's voice. Their eyes met, Yujia being far too tired to read the other woman's expression.

"Get up," Yufeng said again, at Yujia's blankness.

Blinking a few times, Yujia accepted Yufeng's hand. It was a rush of warmth compared to the ice-cold temperature of Yujia's skin. With a jerking movement, Yufeng pulled her up. Yujia stumbled, her lack of balance almost toppling her over if not for Yufeng's other hand reaching up and steadying her.

"Let's get you inside," Yufeng murmured.

…

The two of them sat around a furnace, coals crackling inside. Yufeng had helped Yujia take off her cloak, brushing off all the snow weighing it down, dressing Yujia in the fur cloak she was holding earlier. As Yujia sat at the furnace, her hands reaching out, the ice below her skin melted away, leaving nothing but the crackling heat of the flames at her touch.

Yufeng didn't ask what had happened. She must've heard Yunhe's exclamation when he had rushed into their courtyard earlier, assuming what had happened based on what she heard and how Yujia looked. Besides offering a cup of hot tea, that Yujia took and sipped at, Yufeng said nothing else.

The two simply sat there, silence hanging in the warm air, but to Yujia, that was enough of a comfort.

pqdm.com