Spring Remains the Same - Chapter 4

In the capital twelve years later, a wheelchair was no longer just a wheelchair; it had become a symbol. A symbol of elegance, of talent, of wisdom, and of an indifference to fame and fortune.

During those twelve years, the rivalry among the princes had grown increasingly fierce. Most of the high officials at court had chosen a side, backing one of the imperial sons. Yet Wei Xiu had chosen the then-obscure eldest imperial grandson, single-handedly helping him ascend to the throne and claim the Mandate of Heaven. No one at the time doubted his ability to turn the world on its head. What was even more unexpected, however, was that despite such a monumental achievement, he never entered the court. Xiao Dewen had issued three edicts, intending to build a high platform and appoint Wei Xiu as chancellor. All three edicts were returned to the palace, sealed and unopened.

Three edicts, three refusals. The world believed Wei Xiu to be indifferent to fame and fortune, but those in the court knew this was not the case. If he were truly so detached, he would have simply enjoyed his freedom outside the court. Why would he involve himself in the struggle for the throne, let alone display his great talent to support an imperial grandson with no advantages?

At the time, the ministers debated this in private. Many believed he was self-conscious about his inability to walk and did not wish to appear before others. Thus, whatever schemes he devised were mostly presented directly to Xiao Dewen, rather than being proposed publicly in the imperial court. But Puyang knew this was not so. A man of his resolute will would not look down on himself because of a physical defect.

A gentle breeze rustled the bamboo leaves. Stalks of green bamboo covered the mountain forest, their slender, straight trunks evergreen throughout the seasons.

The bamboo forest was serene, and the man seated in the wheelchair seemed to have merged with it, as cool as the moon, as graceful as a willow.

Puyang stopped in her tracks, her hand tightening on the arm of the maid supporting her. Even from just a glimpse of his back, she recognized Wei Xiu at once. She had sent people to search for him inside and outside the capital for half a month to no avail, little knowing that he was right here, living in peaceful seclusion.

Wei Xiu seemed unaware of his visitor. He sat there, quietly watching the servant before him dig into the earth with a hoe.

The cool breeze roused Puyang from her daze. Realizing her loss of composure, she quickly collected her thoughts. She loosened her grip, gave a slight smile to the maid who was looking at her with a pained, questioning expression, and then continued forward.

She approached slowly, her wooden clogs making a soft sound on the bamboo leaves. Wei Xiu heard her and turned his head. He showed no surprise, as if he had known all along who was coming. When Puyang drew near, he spoke in a calm, unhurried voice, “It is a pity your foot is injured, otherwise you could have a taste of this fine wine.”

The servant, focused on his digging, finally unearthed a jar of wine from the soil. He set down his hoe and presented the wine to his master.

Wei Xiu took the jar, broke the clay seal, and opened the mouth. A clear, crisp fragrance of wine wafted out.

It was only a cup of wine; what difference did it make whether she drank it or not? That was Puyang’s initial thought, but now, smelling the fine wine’s fragrance, she too felt a sense of regret. Wei Xiu was a skilled brewer. In her previous life, after Xiao Dewen ascended the throne, many noble families considered it an honor to receive a jar of wine he had brewed himself, yet she had never once tasted it.

With the wine in hand, Wei Xiu cradled it in his arms as the servant began to push him back. They moved at a slow pace, one that happened to match Puyang’s. Supported by her maid, Puyang walked beside the wheelchair, her mind racing.

The people of the court were masters of acting. To Wei Xiu, this was their first meeting, so Puyang naturally could not let anything slip. She addressed him as “Sir”: “It is indeed a pity, but I will be well one day. Sir, perhaps you would tell me your name, so that when my injury has healed, I may trouble you again.”

Asking for his name was a way to draw closer. Their enmity in her past life had been a product of circumstances. Now that she was reborn and knew of Wei Xiu’s great talent, Puyang was not one to be inflexible. She had to find a way to win him over.

The wine jar had just been pulled from the ground, its body still caked with earth. Wei Xiu paid it no mind, cradling it in his arms. It was not an elegant posture, yet he carried it off with an unrestrained and natural grace. Hearing Puyang’s question, he smiled faintly. “My humble surname is Wei, my given name is Xiu, and my courtesy name is Zhongmeng.”

His manner was casual, his words frank—the very model of a famous scholar. He was the last person she had seen before she died in her previous life. By her count, it had only been half a month since they last met, but observing him closely now, she felt a sense of the vicissitudes of time. This was the Wei Xiu of twelve years younger. He already possessed his distinguished air, but his youth made him far more elegant and refined.

Since he’s so much younger and more refined, Puyang thought to herself, he should… also be easier to fool, right?

The bamboo forest was not far from the thatched cottage. Normally, it would have been a short walk, but Puyang’s injury prevented her from moving quickly. The slightest pull sent a sharp pain through her, and the short distance took a full quarter of an hour to cover.

Wei Xiu was in no hurry, matching her slow pace.

Upon reaching the cottage, he glanced at Puyang’s face. Though somewhat pale, her spirits seemed good. He led her to the study and, gesturing to the room full of books, said, “It is lonely in the mountains. If you feel bored, you may come here to read.”

Books were rare treasures, their circulation severely restricted, relying on borrowing and hand-copying. For a noble family to acquire a rare volume was a priceless event, reserved for the education of their own children. As for commoners, it was not unusual for them to go their entire lives without ever knowing what a book looked like.

Leaning on her maid’s arm, Puyang stepped closer for a better look. The books on the shelves were stacked neatly. Some were bamboo slips, rolled up and arranged in perfect order. The dustless, meticulous placement alone was enough to show that the owner was a true lover of books.

She turned to Wei Xiu and smiled. “Sir is generous. I thank you in advance.”

Wei Xiu gave a faint smile and said no more, having his attendant push him away.

Puyang could see that he was maintaining a distance from her. He would send her away once her injury healed, and they would have no further contact. If she had not dealt with him before, she would have truly believed him to be a mountain hermit who disliked being disturbed.

She watched Wei Xiu depart, then turned her gaze back to the room full of books. She took out a volume from nearby. It was a classical exegesis, discussing what the ultimate fate of the world would be.

The world had been divided into three for eighty years. For eighty years, the three kingdoms had been in constant conflict, with endless wars, yet none had ever gained a decisive advantage. Eighteen years ago, internal strife erupted in the north, and the current emperor usurped the throne, establishing the Wei dynasty in place of the Zhou. The other two kingdoms also experienced their own internal turmoil, and so the wars between the three nations lessened. Now, it seemed as if the world had settled into three separate territories, and the rulers had given up, with no one aspiring to unify the Nine Provinces again.

This exegesis held that very viewpoint. At present, many people, including ministers at court, believed this to be the case. The essay’s language was sharp, its style dashing, and the matter it discussed was the mainstream opinion. It could be considered a fine piece of work.

Decadent, Puyang thought to herself. After reading the entire piece, she noticed a small line of annotation at the end. The line contained only three characters, which read: “Return to one.”

This book belonged to Wei Xiu, so the annotation was naturally in his hand.

She also noticed that the paper of this exegesis was brand new. In contrast, other books nearby had yellowed paper or frayed edges from frequent reading. The one in her hands had likely been read only once before being put away on a high shelf.

Looking again at the three words “Return to one,” she saw that Wei Xiu’s view was the complete opposite of the author’s. He believed that the tripartite division of the world would inevitably be unified.

Puyang smiled faintly. She had not expected that on the grand matter of the world’s future, her view would be so similar to Wei Xiu’s.

She tilted her head in thought, then placed the exegesis back in its original spot, arranging it neatly just as it had been. Afterward, she returned to her room, supported by her maid.

The next day, she went to the study again. She flipped through a few books, but she was not reading their original content; instead, she was reading the owner’s annotations. Her injury prevented her from sitting for long, so she only skimmed a few volumes. But from small details, one can see the larger picture. Reading a few passages was enough to give her a deeper understanding of Wei Xiu.

All wise rulers tend to cherish talent.

The current dynasty had been established for a mere eighteen years. The Emperor, Xiao Yi, had been the Prince of Wei under the previous dynasty. When the time was ripe, he usurped the throne, demoted the former Son of Heaven to Prince of Ruyin, and placed him under house arrest in the capital. Because Xiao Yi had seized the throne as a subject overthrowing his lord, his reputation was poor. Some worthy men in the realm refused to serve him, either retreating to the mountains as hermits or spending their days in drink, avoiding any contact with the court. Xiao Yi had secured the throne thanks to the groundwork laid by his father and brothers, but even more so due to his own cunning and patience. He did not blame the famous scholars who refused to serve him; on the contrary, he treated them with respect and repeatedly issued edicts to recruit them. Over time, this earned him a reputation for tolerance and magnanimity.

The Emperor could endure so much, allowing those few loyalists who were dissatisfied with the new dynasty to refuse official posts, all to cultivate a reputation for magnanimity. More importantly, those men were truly talented, and he held onto a sliver of hope that he would one day win them over. Had it been some incompetent person who dared to speak so brazenly in public, the Emperor, even if he refrained from executing them on the spot for the sake of his reputation, had plenty of ways to ensure they died without a burial place.

Among all the princes and princesses, Puyang was the most like the Emperor. And because she was sensible and intelligent, the Emperor doted on her. Through years of his influence, Puyang’s conduct became more and more like his, and he valued her more and more, often discussing matters of state with her. Puyang was exceptionally gifted. Whenever the Emperor spoke with her, she always had feedback, and any comment she made was sure to be substantive. The Emperor once lamented in public: “I have many sons, but none are a match for my one daughter.”

In her past life, Puyang had absolutely no respect for her several princely brothers. When they studied together at the Chongwen Institute as children, she only ever saw Second Brother acting foolishly, Third Brother wearing a fake smile, Fourth Brother avoiding trouble at all costs, and Sixth Brother helping Third Brother stir up chaos just for the thrill of it. It was truly dull. When they grew older, left the institute, and entered the court, they still behaved in the same manner, without the slightest improvement.

Knowing them so intimately, it was truly difficult to expect Puyang to respect them.

Even so, Puyang knew that one day, she would have to kneel and declare herself a subject to one of these brothers. Even if she looked down on him, the great duty between ruler and subject meant she could only submit.

This realization often left her bewildered; in her heart, she was unwilling to accept it. But she was young then, her future uncertain. She only knew that she must cherish talent even more than the Emperor, hoping to find worthy advisors to help her carve out a space for herself, so that when the Emperor passed away one day, she would not be at the mercy of others.

And she did indeed achieve it. After her father passed away, her power overshadowed the court, and even the new emperor had to yield to her. But still, she died.

She had chosen the wrong path, and all her painstaking efforts had been in vain. But Puyang was never one to lose heart. If she had taken the wrong road, she would simply choose a new one. However, a new path was never easy to walk. She needed someone to assist her.

This was why, despite her deep-seated conflict with Wei Xiu, she could tolerate him and was now trying so hard to recruit him. Puyang pretended to chat idly with the maid. In her past life, although Wei Xiu was highly sought after, no one knew where he came from or where his home was.

“I see that Sir Wei is about the age of his capping ceremony. How many years has he been living in seclusion here?”

The maid did not conceal the information. “The Young Master had his capping ceremony last year. He has been here for six years.”

“Does he have any other family? For him to live here alone, are his parents and family not worried?”

The maid pursed her lips into a smile. “This servant only arrived last year. I am not clear on the Young Master’s private affairs.”

Puyang glanced at her and asked no more.

After staying for a few days, she learned that there were not many people here. Besides Wei Xiu, there were only two male servants and three maids. For Puyang, who was accustomed to having hundreds of servants, this was a very small number indeed. Born and raised in the palace, where she traveled under canopies and was waited on day and night, dressed in brocade and eating delicacies, this was the first time in two lifetimes that she had lived in a humble thatched cottage, and for several days at that.

But she did not find anything wrong with the place. Though it was not as luxurious as her palace, it was clean and elegant, and she had lacked for nothing she needed. The clothes she had been wearing upon her arrival were stained with bl00d and had been changed while she was unconscious. The new clothes she wore now were not magnificent, but they were comfortable. Wei Xiu did not appear often, but he was thoughtful and had not neglected her in any way.

Seeing that she had no more questions, the maid opened the cloth bag she had brought and said respectfully, “These clothes and hairpins are what the young lady was wearing upon arrival. The Young Master ordered this servant to return them. Please see if anything is missing.”

Puyang merely glanced at them. The clothes were light blue, and the hairpins and other items were made of bronze. They were indeed what she had been wearing before she lost consciousness. She looked away, but a moment later, as if remembering something, her gaze shot back to the bag. Among the hairpins was a pair of earrings made of gold, and they were inlaid with pearls.

“These… has Sir Wei seen all of them?” she asked, turning to the maid.

“He has seen them all,” the maid replied.

Puyang’s expression darkened slightly.

For hundreds of years, the system of rites and music had been established. With its perfection, the world became one of clear hierarchies. What people could use, what they could wear, and even which roads they could walk were all explicitly regulated. Gold ornaments were for the exclusive use of the imperial family. Direct descendants of the emperor could use them, as could those with great merit who received special permission from the emperor. If anyone else used them, it was an act of overstepping one’s station. If discovered, it was a punishable crime.

Therefore, clothing and accessories were also symbols of status.

Wei Xiu was a man of insight. He could not possibly be unaware of this.

With his ability to discern the great from the small, he had most likely seen through her identity. Even if he did not know everything, he could surely guess eight or nine parts out of ten.

Author’s Notes:

Princess: You picked up an injured person on the road. Aren’t you afraid someone is plotting to harm you?

Lofty Scholar: Mm.

Princess: You trust me that much.

Lofty Scholar: Mm.

Princess: Don’t you want to know who I am?

The Lofty Scholar lifted his eyelids: I’ve known for a long time.

Princess: …(⊙＿⊙；)…