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Once the wisteria entered its blooming season, several returning guests quietly arrived at Prince Zhao’s Mansion.
A soft couch had been placed in the flower hall, upon which Xie Jing reclined. Lu Shuning rested her head on his shoulder, animatedly recounting to Uncle Zhou, who sat nearby, the anecdotes of her chess matches with her brother. Out in the courtyard, beneath the white plum tree, Lu Lingcong wore only a casual round-collared robe as he and Lu Shuqing dug a shallow pit beside Lu Ai’s grave.
“Father,” Lu Shuqing suddenly asked, “how old was Yi Yun?”
Lu Lingcong thought for a moment. “Your grandfather bestowed her upon me the year I left the palace to open my own mansion. At that time, she was still a young foal.”
Lu Shuqing silently calculated. Although Yi Yun had passed the age of active service, had she not followed the Tiger Division on that thousand-mile march, or endured that sleepless, relentless journey through the snow, she likely could have accompanied him at least until his capping ceremony.
He looked at his father and said in a low voice, “I’m sorry. On the day the Tiger Division set out, I failed to stop her.”
Lu Lingcong set down his shovel and drew Lu Shuqing into an embrace. “Qing’er, will you promise me one thing?”
“From this day forward, use the words ‘I’m sorry’ sparingly. Even if you save them all up for your mother, your sister, and your grandmother, there is no need to say them to me. In front of Father, there will never be anything for which you owe me an apology.”
Lu Shuqing started, nodding instinctively, yet he suddenly sensed a difference between his mother and father. Although he could experience unreserved, uncompromising tolerance and love from both, his mother’s love stirred a sense of protective tenderness; even though Xie Jing never asked for anything in return, Lu Shuqing only wanted to do everything perfectly to make him happy. His father’s love, however, was as steady as a rippleless lake; even if he were mediocre or incapable, Lu Lingcong would likely only say: “It is also fine to do nothing at all.”
Lu Shuqing often wondered where his father’s sense of self-consistency came from; whether he was born with it, had forged it over time, or if it was simply a role he had grown accustomed to playing as the pillar of the family.
Lu Lingcong ruffled the back of the boy’s head and called out toward the flower hall, “Alright, come over here.”
Hearing this, Xie Jing prepared to stand, but Lu Shuning was snuggled into the crook of his neck, making it impossible to move for a moment. He asked, “We’re going now. Do you want Mother to carry you?”
Lu Shuning joyfully agreed before reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. Xie Jing then hoisted her up against his chest. “Do you know that when you were little, you were only half as long as you are now?”
Uncle Zhou picked up the embroidered shoes that had fallen by the couch and slipped them onto her feet while chuckling. “Back then, Lady Ning loved to hide inside the Empress’s cloak. With the front pulled shut, she’d be completely tucked away.”
In her early childhood, Lu Shuning’s favorite game was this simple form of hide-and-seek. She didn’t even need a Tiger Division command; she just had to burrow into Xie Jing’s fox-fur cloak to be “hidden.” Lu Lingcong would have to make a great show of asking everyone in the mansion where she had gone, only to complete a wide circle and find her in Xie Jing’s arms while feigning authentic shock… and so it went, a game they never tried of.
The two arrived beneath the tree and watched as Lu Shuqing held the brocade box containing Yi Yun’s mane before placing it flat at the bottom of the pit and carefully filling it with fresh soil.
Lu Lingcong masked his grief and joy, yet his expression remained solemn. Xie Jing, who was unable to use his hands while holding Lu Shuning, stood pressed lightly against him to offer comfort.
“When I first entered the Prince’s Mansion, neither of you existed yet,” Xie Jing said softly. “It was only Yi Yun and Lu Ai who were by my side.”
Upon hearing this, Lu Shuqing turned back to look at his mother. Xie Jing reached out a hand toward him, “Stand a bit closer; I can’t reach you.”
The boy stood up, wiped the soil from his palms onto his clothes, and came to Xie Jing’s side.
“I can’t carry you anymore,” Xie Jing said, drawing him into his arms. “This will do.”
In a voice audible only to the four of them, he whispered, “You two are far more remarkable than Father and Mother. We were timid and fearful, muddled and dull; yet at your tender age, you have already seen through the most difficult of riddles; life and death.”
Lu Lingcong smoothed the surface of the soil and took a wine cup offered by a servant, filling it to the brim with the mellow, intoxicating Meishan Snow Liquor before pouring it out as an offering upon the earth. Lu Shuqing took the wisteria tassels that Lu Shuning had just gathered while wandering the garden and placed them upon the grave.
“Do you want me to transplant it to the palace for you?” Lu Lingcong asked, gazing at the pale purple flower buds.
Xie Jing shook his head. “Let it stay at home. Even if one loves something dearly, not everything can be taken away.”
Like Yi Yun and Lu Ai, and even Lu Lingzhen; they were all exquisite creations of the heavens and earth, never meant to live as parasites within this turbid world or endure its various tribulations. Now that they had returned to the realm beyond, it seemed only fitting that they be honored with fallen blossoms and aged wine.
Lu Shuning reached out her hand to brush the dust from the front of her father’s robes. Xie Jing watched his daughter’s movements with a smile; he did not look at Lu Lingcong, yet his words were directed at him, “By the same logic, no matter how much one loathes to let go, not everything can be kept. You have already done all that you could do. If there is still lingering regret, then it is… the fate of Heaven, beyond the reach of mankind.”
In the fourth month of the first year of Yanjia, the Son of Heaven formally conferred the title of Empress upon his principal wife from the Xie clan of Chen Commandery. The grand rite was performed outside Shenlong Hall.
The Linhai Hall, where the late Empress Dowager Wang had lived for more than thirty years, had been reduced to ashes. The Son of Heaven informed the Ministry of Works that there was no need to expend further funds or labor on its restoration and instead designated the vacant Zhaoyang Hall on the western side as the empress’s residence. He ordered that all furnishings and objects be arranged in imitation of their former residence in the Prince’s Mansion, carefully laid out according to the empress’s preferences.
Because Xie Jing had been a “deposed person” for all those years, he strictly lacked the formal status of a spouse to Lu Lingcong. According to old custom, he had to return temporarily to his maternal home, the Xie’s Mansion, and await the arrival of the imperial carriage.
On the day of the grand ceremonial rites, Lu Lingcong personally arrived at Wuyi Lane. Apart from escorting Xie Jing into the palace, he also brought an “imperial gift” that left neighboring households, court officials, and palace attendants all stunned—a plaque personally inscribed by the emperor himself, bearing four large characters: “Orchids and Jade Trees.”
Xie Jing stood dazed beneath the main gate. Behind him, Xie Jun moved to speak, but Xie Jing shook his head to stop him.
Lu Lingcong ordered his men to take down the old plaque that read [A Hundred Acts of Forbearance Define the Family’s Reputation] and commanded, “Bring a blade.”
Perhaps it was unseemly to reveal weapons on the day of a great ceremony, but the emperor’s word was final, and no one dared to object.
The onlookers watched as Lu Lingcong drew his blade from its sheath and struck downward through the air without hesitation. The old plaque split in two with a sharp crack before crashing onto the steps.
“After enduring for more than a hundred years, by today… it should already be enough.”
The bystanders were shaken to the core, yet Lu Lingcong’s expression remained as calm as ever. He simply turned toward Xie Jing, gazing at him fixedly. “The lintel of the Xie family should be adorned with the words of the Xie family themselves.”
It was night, in the deepest part of Zhaoyang Hall.
…
