Spring Remains the Same - Chapter 102

With the new emperor’s accession, the palace was inevitably a hive of activity.

Puyang’s daily necessities had to be moved from the princess’s residence. Naturally, items befitting a princess were no longer to be used; all were replaced with articles for the Son of Heaven’s imperial use. The rear palaces also needed to be cleared out. Fortunately, Xiao Dewen had not had time to establish an empress or take concubines, leaving only an empress dowager in the rear palaces. Puyang did not make things difficult for her. She asked her preference: whether to remain in the palace or return to the Prince of Yan’s residence, the choice was hers. In any case, her allowance would not be diminished.

The Empress Dowager, having suddenly lost her son, was overwhelmed with grief. The thought that the palace was no longer under Xiao Dewen’s rule made her unwilling to stay. She decided to leave the palace as soon as Xiao Dewen’s funeral rites were concluded.

Xiao Dewen had been on the throne for a little over half a year. He had accomplished nothing of merit, nor had he had time to display any incompetence. Puyang ordered the court to deliberate on a posthumous title. There was little need for debate; they quickly settled on “Ai.” As for a temple name, he would naturally not receive one. Only emperors who had rendered great service to the state, worthy of eternal sacrifice by their descendants, were granted temple names. The late emperor, for example, had the posthumous title “Gao” and the temple name “Taizu.”

Henceforth, whenever Xiao Dewen was mentioned, he would be referred to as Emperor Ai.

The funeral rites for Emperor Ai were not yet over, so there was no need to rush the posthumous title. But Puyang’s mind was heavy with other matters. She dared not go to the Hall of Containing Light, afraid to see Wei Xiu, so she kept a group of ministers occupied with discussions.

After settling Xiao Dewen’s posthumous title, she urged the Ministry of Justice and the Grand Court of Revision to conclude the trial concerning the Prince of Jin’s rebellion. Having spent the entire previous day in the palace, many political affairs had been delayed. She ordered the accumulated memorials from the Department of State Affairs to be brought to her.

With the new monarch long past adulthood, the three former regents were now obsolete. Chancellor Wang and the Prince of Zheng had no objections and, on the first day of the new emperor’s reign, jointly submitted a memorial requesting to resign from their positions as regents.

Puyang approved, bestowing money and goods upon each of them to reward their hard work.

A new monarch brings new courtiers. Besides consolidating supreme power, she also needed to ennoble meritorious subjects and promote the officials who had followed her from the beginning. This matter was not urgent, however, and Puyang still needed time to deliberate and draw up a list.

If an emperor was diligent, there was never a shortage of work to be found. In such a vast empire, all sorts of matters were reported daily. Puyang kept her ministers until dusk, when the palace gates were about to be locked, and only then was she forced to let them go.

The ministers were both pleased that His Majesty was so diligent, a blessing for the people, and worried that they would not be able to endure it in the long run. They all began to ponder that if this continued day after day, they would have to submit a memorial pleading with His Majesty to take care of the imperial health.

After the ministers withdrew, they assumed His Majesty would also rest. Who would have known that she would remain on the imperial throne, picking up one memorial after another to continue reviewing them.

The emperors of the Wei dynasty were accustomed to handling state affairs in the Hall of Proclaimed Virtue, sleeping in the Hall of Proclaimed Chamber, and holding morning court in the Hall of Proclaimed Governance. Major ceremonies were held in the Hall of Primal Origin. As the place where the emperor managed state affairs, the Hall of Proclaimed Virtue was naturally solemn and grand. With Xiao Hong focused on her work, the palace attendants dared not make a sound. They refilled her tea and replaced the candles with light hands and feet, not making the slightest noise.

The night deepened. The summer heat gave way to a trace of coolness at night, and a late breeze rustled the curtains, bringing with it a refreshing chill. Qin Kun gave a look to the two maids kneeling behind the imperial throne with fans. The two women leaned forward slightly, bowed, and withdrew with their fans.

After a while longer, the two stacks of memorials on the desk were finished. Puyang placed the vermilion brush on its rest and turned to glance at the nearby candelabrum. The candles on it were about to burn out. Looking at the water clock, it was nearly the third watch.

At this hour, Ah Xiu should be resting.

Having been married for over two years and acquainted for four, Puyang knew many of Wei Xiu’s habits. When there was nothing to do, she would always retire early and rise early in the morning. Her daily routine was fixed and extremely regular. She, on the other hand, always wanted to do more, dragging things out until the dew was heavy in the deep of night before she was willing to return to her chambers. Seeing her like this, Ah Xiu would often keep her company and help her with some matters so that she could rest earlier.

Seeing His Majesty put down the brush and stare blankly at the water clock, Qin Kun approached and reported cautiously, “Your Majesty, it is getting late. Does Your Majesty wish to rest?”

Puyang showed a hint of hesitation, as if reluctant, but she soon said, “Very well.”

She stood up and walked outside, with Qin Kun and the other attendants hurrying to follow.

Ordinarily, after ascending the throne, the emperor was supposed to sleep in the Hall of Proclaimed Chamber. But right now, that hall had not yet been prepared. Besides, Puyang did not like it there, always feeling it was excessively opulent and lacked tranquility. She had no intention of moving in. The Hall of Containing Light was nearby, and it was a place she had been accustomed to since her youth. She was more willing to stay there.

Moreover, in the Hall of Containing Light, there was Wei Xiu.

She was afraid to see her, yet she wanted to see her every day.

She did not want her to be distant. Even knowing that Wei Xiu most likely did not like her, Puyang still could not bear to blame her.

It was true that she had shielded her from a sword with her own body. It was true that she had entered the palace alone for her. It was true, everything she had done for her after coming from Mount Mang and arriving in the capital. They were already married; this was also true.

No matter what her original intentions were in coming to her side, no matter what her purpose was, what she had done for her was already engraved on Puyang’s heart, unforgettable and unwilling to be forgotten.

The lights in the Hall of Containing Light were still on, and the main doors were open. As Puyang approached from a distance, she could still see the flickering of candlelight caused by people moving about. This palace had not yet gone to sleep; someone was waiting for her return.

A wave of joy surged in Puyang’s heart, but this joy was hollow. It lasted only an instant before vanishing without a trace, replaced by a chest and belly full of sorrow.

In the Hall of Proclaimed Virtue, she could still focus on state affairs, could still barely restrain herself and try her best not to think of Ah Xiu. But here, she wanted nothing more than to see her immediately.

She walked quickly into the hall and saw the person who should have been lying on the couch recuperating, sitting in a wheelchair by a candelabrum, flipping through a book in her hands, reading by the candlelight.

The book seemed extremely fascinating. Wei Xiu gently turned the pages, so engrossed in her reading that she was not even aware that someone had entered the hall.

Puyang’s steps slowed, as if afraid of startling her. She walked over slowly. Just as she was about to get close to Wei Xiu, Wei Xiu finally noticed her.

Her gaze shifted from the book, and she turned her head to look over, her eyes landing on Puyang. She smiled and said in a warm voice, “You’re back?”

Every slight change in her expression fell into Puyang’s eyes. She saw that Ah Xiu’s gaze was gentle, her smile natural, without the slightest hint of being forced.

Puyang found herself smiling back without realizing it. “The candlelight is dim, it’s bad for your eyes. Don’t read anymore.”

Wei Xiu obediently put down the book and moved the wheelchair forward. A look of worry appeared in Puyang’s eyes. “Why are you up? Does the wound hurt? Has the dressing been changed?”

Wei Xiu answered with a smile, “I’m only sitting in the wheelchair, it’s no different from lying on the couch.” But she did not answer whether the dressing had been changed.

Puyang felt a pang of regret. She shouldn’t have avoided Ah Xiu. If she forgot to change the dressing, the wound would heal more slowly. Without another word, she pushed Wei Xiu into the inner chamber.

She closed the doors and windows and took the medicine from a low cabinet. The medicinal salve smelled wonderful, carrying a faint scent of herbs.

Wei Xiu lay down obediently, allowing Puyang to loosen her robes and untie her sash. She, too, carried that fresh herbal scent, mixed with her own inherent fragrance, which made Puyang feel utterly captivated.

She knelt by Wei Xiu’s side and reached out to untie her sash. This was not the first time she had undressed Wei Xiu, but she was unavoidably nervous. She glanced at Wei Xiu, whose eyes were closed.

Puyang had no choice but to focus on the task at hand. She untied the sash and opened the lapels of the robe.

The wound was in a place where the skin of her chest was inevitably exposed. It had already scabbed over and was no longer bleeding. She imagined that once the scab fell off, it would heal as good as new. After applying the medicine, Puyang thought that if the wound healed and left a scar, it would not be sightly. She should ask the imperial physicians for some scar-removing ointment.

Wei Xiu’s complexion was very fair, the skin on her chest smooth and pale. Even now, Puyang could recall the scene from years ago when she had peeked from outside the door and seen Ah Xiu emerging from her bath. The water droplets sliding down her neck, the damp clothes clinging to her chest, her small n1pples erect, glistening with moisture, faintly visible beneath the half-open robe.

Her body was very beautiful.

Puyang also remembered their first time making love after their wedding. By the dim candlelight, Ah Xiu lay on the couch, her restrained gasps, her body arching with unbearable pleasure, the way she bit her lower lip, too shy to moan aloud—it was all exquisitely beautiful.

She remembered now. Their first time making love, it was Ah Xiu who had actively seduced her. At the time, she was only filled with joy and infatuation, but she hadn’t noticed that her sudden submission and seduction came right after they had been discussing the Zhong Clan, when she had jokingly asked her if the “Zhong” in her courtesy name had any connection to the Zhong Clan.

Tears suddenly fell from Puyang’s eyes, dripping onto Wei Xiu’s skin. To hide her identity, to avenge her family, she had to seduce the daughter of her enemy, had to gasp and moan beneath the daughter of her enemy. She must have felt so humiliated. While she was overjoyed that Ah Xiu finally belonged to her, what was Ah Xiu thinking? Her heart must have been weeping.

Wei Xiu opened her eyes to see her eyes red, shedding silent tears. She casually closed her robe and struggled to sit up, calling out to her with concern, “Seventh Lady.”

Puyang turned her head and stared at her blankly. Wei Xiu grew even more flustered. Puyang forced a smile, but before it could fully form, tears fell even more fiercely. She opened her mouth to say, “Ah Xiu…” She wanted to say, I’m fine, but the words caught in her throat, a tightness making it impossible to speak.

Wei Xiu did not know what was wrong with her. She held her carefully, cooing in an incredibly gentle voice, “Don’t cry, don’t cry. Whatever is troubling you, tell me slowly. There’s always a way.”

Puyang shook her head and leaned on her shoulder, trying her utmost to stop crying. She was terrified that if she kept crying, Ah Xiu would become suspicious. She didn’t want her to know. As long as she didn’t know, she would continue to be good to her, even if it was just an act, she was still being good to her. Puyang wiped away her tears, her voice hoarse. “I just feel sorry for you.”

Wei Xiu let out a breath of relief. So that was it. She comforted her, “It just looks a bit miserable, it doesn’t actually hurt that much.”

She believed her explanation. Puyang was both relieved and felt a sense of loss. She rested her head on Wei Xiu’s shoulder. Wei Xiu wrapped an arm around her waist, her other hand gently stroking her back, full of tenderness and care.

Puyang smiled, her eyes filled with sorrow. “But my heart aches. Ah Xiu, you make me so sad.”

Author’s Notes:

Changing the name to Xiao Hong still feels a bit strange.

For the sake of smooth reading, I won’t change it. Alas, it’s mainly because I’m not good at picking names.