When Xie Jing finally woke up, it was already the end of the twelfth lunar month, and the seventeenth year of Zhenyou was nearly over.
A relentless spell of wind chill followed by burning fever brought on the gravest illness of his life; only after nearly twenty days was he barely able to raise himself from the pillow and rest against the headboard. However, though his body had awakened, his spirit had not. He stared blankly into the void and remained silent and withdrawn from morning till night. Seeing this, Yin Chou was struck with alarm as if returning to those days of dazed lethargy following Lu Shuqing’s birth.
Worried for his mother, Lu Shuqing wanted to stay by his side at night; Xie Jing would hold him as they slept, never once asking where Lu Lingcong had gone. Whenever Lu Shuning came running over asking to be carried, Xie Jing would gather her into his arms, and the two of them would spend more than half the day together in quiet companionship.
The news that Lu Lingcong had left the capital overnight and led three thousand horsemen to Huibei to suppress a rebellion immediately caused a massive uproar. Depending on the proximity of their relationship to the Prince’s Mansion, the court officials’ opinions were divided into two main camps. His opponents accused Prince Zhao of disloyalty and unfilial conduct, saying he had cast aside the duties of a grieving son before the late emperor’s funeral rites were even complete, and that he had further bypassed the Ministry of War to keep a private army; plain evidence of treasonous intent. Supporters, however, argued that the chaos in Huibei had persisted for months; Prince Zhao was sharing the country’s burdens and those of the overworked emperor. Even if his actions were not beyond reproach, they felt he should not be judged harshly.
At first, the two voices were evenly matched. However, as time passed, this “Tiger Division” that had appeared out of nowhere proved to be unstoppable. They not only swiftly quelled the rebellion but also incorporated the various disorganized rebel factions into their own ranks. Their numbers grew day by day, and they received a chorus of gratitude from the officials and commoners of the prefectures and counties along the northern bank of the Huai River.
At this stage, if the imperial court were to still attempt to prosecute them as “insurgents,” they would likely find themselves in an impossibly awkward position.
Furthermore, with the new emperor having just ascended the throne, it was a time when he ought to be pacifying those both inside and outside the court by winning over the people and striving for stability. Ultimately, Lu Lingzhang stepped forward and issued an imperial edict bestowing a tiger tally upon Prince Zhao, symbolically allocating some military funds and even granting an honorary title to Prince Zhao’s birth mother, Consort Dowager Wu, as a gesture of commendation—in short, the legitimacy of the Tiger Division’s establishment was officially acknowledged on the surface.
However, this did not mean that Prince Zhao’s Mansion in the capital was at peace.
Xie Jing had been pardoned and cleared of guilt by the “Iron Certificate,” and logically, his movements should have been free. Yet, the Yulin Guards, acting on the Wang family’s instructions, came to the door several times under the pretext that since Xie Jing had been deposed, he was no longer qualified to reside in the mansion as a Princess Consort. Under the banner of “cleansing the household for His Highness Prince Zhao,” they sought to forcibly evict him.
Steward Zhou and Yin Chou led the household servants to block the disputes outside the front hall for several consecutive occasions, keeping the inner courtyard completely in the dark. They neither wanted Lu Shuqing, as the heir, to face the power struggle directly and draw fire upon himself, nor did they want Xie Jing to suffer additional worry because of it.
And it was just as Lu Lingzhen snatched a moment of respite from the funeral mourning to visit Prince Zhao’s Mansion that happened upon this scene.
Despite how the leading captain threatened and intimidated him, Steward Zhou simply stood before the steps with his hands folded, his expression unchanged, while the servants stood solemnly behind him with blades drawn, refusing to yield an inch.
Lu Lingzhen watched coldly for a moment, then suddenly raised her foot and kicked aside the soldier blocking her path. She pushed through the crowd, strode forward, and pulled a whip from her sleeve before lashing it twice with immense force across the captain’s back.
The captain staggered sideways in pain, swearing in shock and anger. But the moment he turned and saw Lu Lingzhen standing above him with a look of contempt, he froze at once and stammered, “Elfest Princess?! Why… why are you here…”
“You’re asking me?” Lu Lingzhen gave a chilling smile. “How did you find the nerve to question me? In Jinling, beneath the Son of Heaven’s very feet, I come and go wherever I please. Since when was it your place, you cur that bullies others on borrowed power, to run your mouth at me?”
Her gaze was like a torch as they swept across every official of the Yulin Guard present. She shouted sternly, “What kind of creatures are you to dare to make such a clamor and cause trouble in front of the Prince’s Mansion? If you’ve grown tired of your duties and no longer want the heads on your shoulders, just come to me; we have plenty to settle in detail!”
She was a known “calamity star” of the capital with a temperament as arrogant and fierce as fire. Even the new emperor had to show her some deference, and as the younger sister of the “hero” Prince Zhao, her reputation preceded her among the Yulin Guard. Furthermore, clashing with the Eldest Princess in the street would surely invite public criticism, and they would find it difficult to justify their actions to the Prime Minister’s Mansion upon their return.
Immediately, they dared not provoke Lu Lingzhen further. They scrambled to kowtow and begged for forgiveness before slinking away in disgrace.
Steward Zhou let out a long sigh of relief and came forward to salute Lu Lingzhen. “Thanks to the Eldest Princess for resolving the situation today; otherwise, I don’t know how much longer they would have gone on. The Princess Consort is resting in the inner courtyard; I only ask that Princess calm her anger and hide her irritation, so the Princess Consort doesn’t notice anything is amiss.”
Lu Lingzhen drank a cup of clear tea to settle her temper and headed to the inner courtyard. When the maidservants in the warm pavilion saw her, they whispered, “Please sit for a moment, Princess. The Princess Consort has just woken from a nap; I will go and announce you. However, the Princess Consort has been depressed and despondent lately, so I fear…”
Lu Lingzhen shook her head, took two steps forward to stand behind the door, and spoke loudly, “Saosao, it is me, Zhenzhen. If meeting face-to-face will only bring us both griefs, then it is the same if we do not see each other; just listen to what I have to say. The Tiger Division is skilled in battle and now holds the hearts of the people in the Huibei region. As for Qing’er and Ningning, they enter the palace daily for the mourning rites, and both Mother and I are looking after them. Before my brother left, he assigned a unit of about a thousand men to me called the ‘Hewei.’ Even if the Prime Minister’s Mansion makes things difficult, I will not be helpless or allow myself to be preyed upon. Moreover, with Sister Xiao and the Xuanshi assisting us, you can focus entirely on recovering from your illness without worry.”
As her voice trailed off, the door was pushed open from the inside after a short while. Yin Chou came out and bowed to her: “The Princess Consort does not wish to avoid the Princess; it is only that he is now the descendant of a disgraced official and a forsaken soul. He fears that a private meeting might bring trouble upon you.”
“Here are several sets of newly made Hangzhou silk dresses, originally intended as year-end gifts for the Princess. The Princess Consort said that you look best in bright red, but as we are currently in deep mourning, it would be inappropriate. He asks that the Princess accept them for now; once the turmoil subsides, there will surely come a day when they can be worn.”
She presented the exquisite fabrics into Lu Lingzhen’s hands and added, “The Princess Consort commanded me to tell you that the Princess must be careful and take care of herself in the palace by ensuring that both she and the Consort Dowager remain safe. You must live out this life in total wholeness and peace.”
As Lu Lingzhen stared at the half-closed door, her nose stinging with unshed tears—Xie Jing was right behind that door, and she could even faintly discern his silhouette. Yet this door was as thin as a hair’s breadth and as thick as the horizon, separating them with a thousand mountains forged of new grievances and ten thousand rivers brewed from old hatreds.
Finally, she only managed to say:l, “Saosao… I am leaving.”
On her way back to the palace from Prince Zhao’s Mansion, Lu Lingzhen rode at full gallop. As soon as she reached the palace gates, she leapt down from her horse and flung the reins to a eunuch standing nearby. Just as she was about to hurry off to see her mother, she caught sight of a sheet of paper slipping from the bundle of silk gowns, fluttering in circles to the ground at her feet.
Lu Lingzhen leaned down to pick it up. The ink, written in the “Quxia” style, was still fresh; it was a few lines of fragmented poetry Xie Jing had hastily written and hidden among the clothes for her. She murmured the words, “…When I first entered the household as a bride, my Little Sister-in-law had only just learned to steady herself by the bed. Today, as I am cast out, my Little Sister-in-law has grown as tall as I. Serve our honored elders with care and look after one another well. On the seventh day and the ninth, when you laugh and play, do not forget me…”
…Do not forget our games and laughter.
Lu Lingzhen still remembered the day of her brother’s wedding; Xie Jing’s bridal robes had been embroidered with gold-threaded peacocks. Now the peacock had been driven to a far-off flight with no idea where it might pause along the way, and even less hope of whether they would ever see each other again.
Gripping that sheet of paper, she felt light-headed and weak in the limbs as she slowly made her way deeper into the palace along Perpetual Lane, only to meet Lu Lingzhang’s palanquin head-on.
Lu Lingzhang looked at her in astonishment and ordered the bearers to stop while asking in a low voice, “Imperial Sister, what is the matter?”
Lu Lingzhen jolted back to awareness. Raising a hand to her face, she only then discovered that, without knowing when it had started, her cheeks were already wet with tears.
“It is nothing,” she said while shaking her head slowly. She raised her eyes to meet Lu Lingzhang’s gaze from the palanquin. “…I am fine.”
With the national mourning underway, everything was naturally kept simple; even for the approaching New Year, no one dared to celebrate with any display of grandeur.
Despite this, Xie Jing still ordered the kitchen to prepare glutinous rice balls to distribute among the servants of every household. Following custom, he settled their wages and bonuses for the past half-year; those with homes in the capital returned for reunions, while those from elsewhere were given leave to rest. The number of people in the mansion dwindled by more than half, leaving behind an indescribable sense of desolation and sorrow.
Xie Jing was still in a frail state. Wrapped in a robe, he sat in the heated pavilion with Yin Chou and the two children, all of them gathered around a brazier as they ate together.
Noticing that Lu Shuqing was barely touching the side dishes and was instead silently eating the bowl of noodles in front of him, Xie Jing subconsciously reminded him, “Save a little room in your stomach, there’s still—”
He froze mid-sentence. Everyone stopped their chopsticks while looking at him with words catching in their throats. What else was there? In previous years, the plum-blossom steamed dumplings made by Lu Lingcong would be served at the end, but Lu Lingcong was not at the table now, and naturally, there would be no plum-blossom dumplings.
Xie Jing suddenly felt a lump in his throat. He sat there stunned, unable to swallow another bite.
He had been allowing the lethargy of his illness to numb his mind while trying his utmost not to think of his kin who had met a brutal slaughter and not to think of Lu Lingcong, who was currently a guest in a foreign land. Wuyi Lane was no longer before his eyes, but this place of sorrow; Prince Zhao’s Mansion confronted him day and night.
Every table and chair, every blade of grass and tree, every pavilion and terrace, every embroidered hanging and folding screen—there was not a single place untouched by Lu Lingcong’s presence, not a single corner without the imprint of their life together. Back when they were newlywed, he had said to Lu Lingcong, “But this is your home.” In the blink of an eye, ten years had been wasted; now this truly was his home, but where was the man who had given it to him?
The New Year’s Eve dinner was cold and quiet with each person nursing their own heavy thoughts. After the dishes were cleared, Steward Zhou entered and said, “Princess Consort, the steward from the Grand Tutor’s Mansion has arrived. He says that the Grand Tutor knows that the Princess Consort is suffering and fears it is inconvenient for you to have a place to offer sacrifices. Therefore, he has sent these items, hoping they might offer some small solace for the pain of missing your kin. He earnestly hopes that the Princess Consort will restrain your grief and take care of yourself.”
Xie Jing took the items and looked; they were banknotes and gold ingots, offerings meant for sacrificial burning. The New Year had always been a time to honor ancestors and the deceased, yet no one would ever permit him to offer sacrifices for a clan of “disgraced officials” who had supposedly coveted the throne.
He was momentarily speechless. After a long while, he said to Steward Zhou, “Please convey my message: give my regards to the Teacher and wish him health. Once I have recovered and find the time, I will surely visit in person to thank him for the kindness he showed in helping me say my final farewell to my father and brother.”
As the night grew deeper, Xie Jing quietly led Lu Shuqing to the backyard. They found a secluded, wind-protected corner and burned all the paper offerings there in silence.
There was no snow on this New Year’s Eve of the seventeenth year of Zhenyou, and the seventeenth year of Zhenyou had been no year of harvest. Xie Jing remembered the wish he had made the previous year—was such a simple plea truly such a decadent, extravagant wish? By the grace of his father and brother yielding to him, the “good fortune” he had hoped to claim was merely a tiny copper coin, not the chance to be the sole survivor of his family’s brutal massacre!
The bonfire was bright and scalding, unlike the dazzling yet cold fireworks. The final display of the sixteenth year of Zhenyou had long since dispersed and scattered his home until nothing remained.
“Mother,” Lu Shuqing suddenly called to him, “will you leave us too?”
“There is no feast under heaven that does not eventually come to an end,” Xie Jing answered him. “Son, Mother is of mortal flesh; there will inevitably come a day when I must leave you.”
Lu Shuqing abruptly turned around and threw his arms around his mother’s waist, silently burying his face in his embrace.
“What is it?” Xie Jing asked while gently stroking the back of the boy’s neck.
Lu Shuqing only muttered a single word, “Cold.”
Yin Chou was waiting in the main room. Seeing Xie Jing return from the backyard, she stepped forward and said, “While the Princess Consort was still unconscious a few days ago, the servants found this while tidying the bed. It must be a message His Highness left for you before he departed.”
She handed Lu Lingcong’s letter to Xie Jing. “At the time, I was afraid that a moment of profound grief and pain would harm your health, so I put it away first. Now that your state of mind has steadied somewhat over these past few days, if you are truly finding it difficult to cope, perhaps you could choose a time to read it.”
Xie Jing had not expected Lu Lingcong to leave a message for him; they never usually did so when saying goodbye. Because they never harbored the slightest doubt about the possibility of reuniting, there were no words that absolutely had to be said, and no period of time that could not be endured; there was no need for such trouble, for they would simply speak in person on the day they met again. Unless—
Unless there was never to be a day of reunion.
A sudden, ominous premonition rose in Xie Jing’s heart. He lowered his head and focused his eyes on what Lu Lingcong had written:
“Now that I have set out for the Huai region, I expect that the day of our reunion is distant and uncertain. Seeing your illness is more perilous than any in years, you must listen carefully to Yin Chou’s reminders: wear more layers, fret less, and do not be a picky eater. Show our children ten-thousand-fold love and tenderness on my behalf; this is my earnest plea!”
“My departure was hurried, and I could not wait for you to wake. Thus, all these tangled emotions and the words I could not otherwise speak are entrusted to this quiet whisper. If you hear a murmuring voice of instruction upon your pillow, it is no stranger; it is my deep yearning entering your dreams!”
“It is human nature to be insatiable: having had ten years, I longed for a hundred; having tied our hair together, I wished to grow old together; having shared this life and this world, I yearned for every life and every world beyond. I do not know what fate awaits this parting tonight. If I should meet calamity in the days to come; if I am fortunate enough to be brought back wrapped in horsehide, I will wait for you in the Yellow Springs for seventy years; if I am less fortunate and fall upon the battlefield, then the universe is vast, and there will be no place that is not my grave.”
Yin Chou had already quietly withdrawn, leaving Xie Jing standing alone in the corridor. His entire body trembled uncontrollably, his fingers shaking so badly that he could scarcely keep hold of the paper. Moonlight poured down from the sky into the courtyard, casting its glow over the funeral banners hanging from all four eaves. White plum blossoms were in full bloom, their fragrance drifting as if it could spread for ten thousand miles; this was the “snowy night” unique to Prince Zhao’s Mansion alone.
His gaze fell upon the final lines:
“I have stayed by your side for ten full springs; we have tasted every flavor of human sorrow and joy together. Even if I die now, I have no regrets.”
“From this day forward, through the wind, frost, rain, and snow of Jinling—wherever you go, my soul shall always follow.”
