A Spark in the Heart
Ying Zheng clamped both hands tightly over her mouth the moment she heard the conversation outside the door. If she didn’t, she was certain she wouldn’t be able to stop the sound from escaping. When Ji Dan had first entered the room to check on her, she had already regained consciousness. No matter how exhausted she was, and no matter how safe she felt in his residence, her instincts ran too deep to be overwritten by a single night’s sleep. Years of accumulated experience had conditioned her body to snap awake at the faintest hint of another person’s presence. Yet she had remained still, pretending to sleep—because Ji Dan’s hand had been stroking her hair with such careful, tender affection. She had wanted to feel that touch just a little longer. It was a familiar sensation, one etched into her memory. When had it been? Long ago, before her father Ying Yi Ren fled Zhao, her mother had once caressed her like this… Perhaps it was because she could never forget the warmth those hands once gave her. Even in the face of her mother’s violence and vicious words, Ying Zheng had never been able to leave her side. And now, Ji Dan’s gentle touch stirred up those rare fragments of past happiness, melting her into a complicated mixture of nostalgia and sorrow.
But Ji Dan seemed to think differently. After a short while, he withdrew his hand and slipped out of the room as quietly as he had entered. Lost in the storm of her emotions, Ying Zheng had been slow to react. Only after he left did she slowly lift her eyelids. She had been about to follow him and open the door when the voices drifting in from outside made her freeze. Her hand fell away from the latch and she held her breath without thinking. And then came the conversation that followed.
Ji Dan had lowered his voice out of fear that she might hear, but it was impossible for his words to escape her ears. Having lived a life that demanded constant, extreme vigilance, Ying Zheng possessed hearing every bit as sharp as his. She pressed her ear directly against the door and secretly listened to the two of them speak.
Ji Dan and his household had been dragged down into the mud because they had taken her in. Han Jing’s furious shouts were filled with nothing but resentment and condemnation aimed at her. Yet Ji Dan only tried to soothe his angry retainer. He never once criticized her. Even though simply agreeing with them would have calmed their resentment and allowed him to escape this predicament himself. After all, he believed she was still asleep. He could have said anything—empty words that would cost him nothing. Instead, he worried more about whether she might hear those words even in her dreams than about the fire falling on his own feet.
It was the first time since she had regained the ability to think clearly that she had encountered such unconditional kindness. Ying Zheng felt as if tears would burst from her eyes at any moment. She pressed her lips together fiercely and squeezed her eyes shut, desperately holding back the sobs.
Then she heard the name Jing Ke from outside, and only then did she focus on the conversation again.
Jing Ke? Ah… that woman.
His retainer who had helped rescue her alongside Ji Dan. Even Ying Zheng had to admit the woman was quite beautiful. She had been unconscious at the time and hadn’t seen it herself, but she had heard that Jing Ke played a major role in driving off those who had targeted her. That meant Jing Ke was also one of her benefactors, just like Ji Dan.
But when Ji Dan said he would leave her behind to go to Jing Ke, the emotion that surged through Ying Zheng was not relief that her benefactor’s crisis had been resolved. It was jealousy and a painful sense of deprivation at being placed second in his priorities.
Why…?
I’m still asleep. The only person who can help me is you. Why are you leaving me behind—someone who hasn’t even woken up yet—to go to her?
A suffocating pressure tightened around her heart. Ying Zheng bit down hard on her lower lip. The feeling was so utterly foreign to her. Because hostility had always been easier and more familiar than kindness, she could not yet identify the true nature of this emotion born from goodwill. Yet just as even the greatest blaze begins with a tiny spark, she could clearly feel a new flame igniting deep inside her own heart.
I never even managed to join the Zhao court audience. I was turned away at the palace gates without ever setting foot inside. After pacing back and forth for a long time, I turned back toward the residence in disappointment, only for Feng Qi to come find me. When he said that Lord Pingyuan was waiting, I hurried to his estate at once.
My third private meeting with Lord Pingyuan took place in an atmosphere heavier than any before. Without so much as a greeting, he looked at me with a grave expression and spoke immediately.
The eyes with which Lord Pingyuan looked at me were filled with even deeper grief than my own, as if he were a father staring at a son who had committed a grave mistake.
Once again, Lord Pingyuan was offering me a lifeline of salvation. But sadly, I could not reach out to grasp it. My hand was already holding someone else’s.
Why was I treating a girl I had met only once—and for such a brief, unpleasant encounter—with such importance? It was because our eyes had met. Not the innocent eyes of a seven-year-old, but eyes filled with hatred. Eyes that knew nothing of the world’s beauty and knew only evil and wealth—lonely eyes. From the moment I saw them, I could no longer abandon her. Even though I knew that helping her, taking her in, would mean sharing in her contempt and losing all the luxuries I currently enjoyed.
When I remained silent, unable to answer, Lord Pingyuan spoke with even greater urgency.
At my nearly affirmative reply, Lord Pingyuan’s expression relaxed as if a weight had been lifted. But unfortunately, that was not the end of my answer.
A child who must have suffered countless wounds. A child who had been rejected even by her own mother and had learned to receive the world’s hatred before she even learned to walk. That was who Ying Zheng was. Even I could not pretend not to know her.
Hate the sin, but not the sinner. Surely those words were meant for moments like this.
In an era where the system of collective punishment was taken for granted, my words must have sounded like naïve fantasy. When one person committed a crime, it was common practice to punish their parents, wife, children, siblings—everyone. Even the noble Lord Pingyuan of this age was no exception. My statement must have sounded so absurd to him that he wondered if there was another reason.
Me? For Ying Zheng? No. If romantic feelings meant sexual attraction toward the opposite sex, that was something that could not exist and must not exist.
I gave an answer to Lord Pingyuan, who furrowed his brow as if he could not understand. Upon hearing it, he let out a long sigh and muttered.
Having convinced himself, Lord Pingyuan spoke with clear reluctance, as if he had no choice.
Lord Pingyuan lifted his gaze upward. All that could be seen above us was the ceiling of the room, yet he looked as though he were gazing at the heavens beyond it. He closed his eyes, as if he had nothing more to say. I bowed to him with the formal courtesy I had learned before.
I straightened from my bow and offered a final respectful farewell.
I did not back out. I turned around with my back straight and walked away. I was no longer a young hostage receiving Lord Pingyuan’s patronage. This was the result of choosing the path that led outside the comfortable fence.
As I turned away, Lord Pingyuan left me with a few quiet words, almost to himself.
It was a confirmation of his promise to protect my household if we came to his lands. That was the final kindness Lord Pingyuan gave me. And so our short journey together came to an end.