Spring Remains the Same - Chapter 74

The final years of a dynasty are always chaotic and dark. Despicable acts committed for the sake of consolidating power are commonplace.

The new dynasty had only been established for twenty years, and many old officials had lived through the events of that time. Thus, the Emperor rarely tried to conceal his past actions. Instead, he did his utmost to honor the rites and laws and govern the country, thereby demonstrating the new dynasty’s brightness and the previous one’s gloom.

However, the matter of Grand Marshal Zhong was an exception. The Emperor detested any mention of the turmoil of that year. Whenever a minister’s words touched upon the old affairs of the Grand Marshal, the Emperor’s expression would invariably darken. Which minister at court was not perceptive? In time, they all noticed this and deliberately avoided the topic. Gradually, the events of that year seemed to have been completely forgotten, and the younger generation, like Puyang, had not heard even a whisper of it.

The Grand Scribe, already a man of white hair and beard, naturally knew some of the inside story. After hearing Dou Hui’s message, he was first startled, realizing that with the passage of time, he had forgotten this taboo. Then his face turned pale, knowing that the two manuscripts could not be retrieved.

In truth, what did the manuscripts matter? The Office of the Grand Scribe had kept its own drafts. The Grand Scribe had come only to seek the Emperor’s permission. But now, he had not even been granted an audience.

The Book of Zhou, a work nearly twenty years in the making, a project into which countless efforts had been poured, was ultimately destined to be incomplete.

The Grand Scribe’s expression was downcast, his shoulders slumped as if he had aged ten years in an instant. As he turned to leave, trembling, Dou Hui felt a pang of pity and stepped forward to support him.

The Grand Scribe looked at Dou Hui and grasped his hand in return, as if suddenly finding courage. He couldn’t help but say, “I must trouble the Eunuch to report back to His Majesty…” He stopped, the light in his eyes dimming once more. He shook his head. “Never mind.”

Among historians, there were those who wrote with an unyielding brush, upright and incorruptible, but there was no shortage of those who bent their principles to curry favor, sycophants and flatterers. The Grand Scribe knew he could not stoop to the latter’s fawning, but he had a family and truly did not dare to disregard life and death like the former. He could only exist in the middle, living in a state of indecision.

More words would be useless. He waved his hand, signaling that Dou Hui need not support him any longer, and slowly walked away, one step at a time.

Dou Hui’s expression was calm. Only when the Grand Scribe’s figure was out of sight did he flick his sleeve and turn back into the hall.

Inside, the Emperor was resting his forehead on one hand, his eyes closed as if in a brief nap. Seven or eight paces away, by the wall, a Secretariat Drafter was composing the edict for the imperial marriage.

Dou Hui lightened his steps and returned to his post behind the Emperor.

After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the edict was ready. The Secretariat Drafter presented it with both hands. The Emperor opened his eyes, waved a hand, and ordered him to read it aloud. After listening once and finding no errors, he said, “Issue it.”

The imperial seal was brought forth and affixed. The drafter then took the edict and left the palace to proclaim it.

Once the Secretariat Drafter was gone, the Emperor sat up straight again. His gaze shifted and fell upon Dou Hui behind him, as if only just noticing his return. “Has the Grand Scribe left?” he asked.

Dou Hui quickly bowed and replied, “He has left. The Grand Scribe has understood Your Majesty’s intentions.”

“Mm,” the Emperor responded casually.

Ordinarily, this matter should have been concluded. It was something long left behind, something the Emperor had not thought about for many days. It was only seeing it while compiling the histories that had displeased him for so long.

The Emperor closed his eyes again, forcing himself to think about what would follow the bestowal of marriage. The wedding had to be prepared. And the dowry he had been saving for Seventh Lady for years needed to be inventoried. Whether Wei Xiu would be given a new residence or move back to the Wei estate—all these things required a plan.

It was a long list of matters. With the Empress gone, he couldn’t trust them to a concubine, so he, the father, had to worry about them all. The Emperor tried his best to focus on how to arrange the wedding, but his thoughts uncontrollably drifted back to those manuscripts. That affair, which should have long since vanished into thin air, and that person, whose body was long dead and name erased, resurfaced with an insistent clarity.

Even after twenty years, the Emperor could still recall every single detail of that time: how he had plotted with his faction, how he had given the order—he remembered it all clearly. He remembered that it was Xu Luan who had personally led the men in ambush. He also remembered Xu Luan’s return, covered in bl00d, reporting to him with satisfaction that Zhong Rong no longer existed in this world.

He remembered even more clearly how, not long after, the Prince of Jiaodong had raised troops to intercept him. After quelling this small band of rebels, which in his eyes was not even worthy of notice, a sudden inspiration struck him. He ordered Xu Luan to lead men to storm the Zhong residence and slaughter everyone within, from top to bottom. Then, he framed the Prince of Jiaodong, who had already died under a flurry of blades, for the crime.

That night, Luoyang was lit by the glow of fires. The once-majestic Grand Marshal’s residence was strewn with corpses. Men and women, old and young, all lay in pools of bl00d. The bl00d flowed along the cracks between the bricks, seeping deep into the earth, unable to be washed away even by the heavy rains that followed for days.

These images, filled with fire and bl00d, surged through the Emperor’s mind like madness. He felt a hollowness in his heart, a chill running through his body. He finally understood that this was not something that could be put out of sight and out of mind simply by having the brazier with the burnt manuscripts removed, nor was it something that a joyous occasion could cover up or dispel.

The Emperor’s sense of disgust grew, yet he had no outlet for it.

When the edict arrived, Puyang was with Wei Xiu, appraising an ancient painting.

It was a landscape painting of the mountains and rivers of the Shu region. The brushwork was bold, the spirit majestic. With just a few strokes, it depicted cliffs ten thousand zhang high and surging waves. The simple sheet of paper seemed barely able to contain the painting’s magnificent spirit.

Puyang had seen this painting the day before at a banquet in a minister’s residence. She had fallen in love with it at first sight and bought it from the minister after the feast.

“Such spirit. Besides Zhang Yunzi, I fear there is no other who could achieve this,” Puyang said with admiration.

Zhang Yunzi loved wine. Whenever he wished to paint, he would first drink his fill. His paintings, like the man himself, were imbued with a deep, unrestrained, and heroic spirit.

Not many of Zhang Yunzi’s paintings had survived, and this one was considered a treasure among them. It was a rare thing for that minister to part with it. Wei Xiu did not have a strong preference for calligraphy or painting, but because Puyang liked them, she accompanied her in appreciating it.

She had just said, “The inscription on the painting is not in Yunzi’s usual style; it was likely written by someone else,” when a servant came to announce the arrival of an imperial edict.

The edict was written with great literary flair, filled with the most extravagant words of praise.

Puyang had calculated that it would arrive within these two days, but when the edict was truly proclaimed, she was still overcome with joy.

The minister who delivered the edict, after solemnly reading it, offered his congratulations with a beaming face. “A joyous occasion for the Princess!” He saw Wei Xiu at her side and clasped his hands in a salute. “The next time I see you, Sir, I shall have to address you as the Prince Consort.” He then smiled at Puyang and said, “At that time, I hope Your Highness will not begrudge me a cup of wedding wine, so that this humble servant may also share in the good fortune.”

Puyang’s heart was filled with delight, and she naturally agreed with a smile.

After the minister had left, Puyang turned to Wei Xiu, her eyes brimming with a smile. She saw that Wei Xiu had let the smile she wore for outsiders fade, a trace of stunned silence in her eyes. Only then did Puyang remember that she had not yet told her about the bet with His Majesty that had led to this marriage edict.

Marriage was a lifelong commitment, while a bet was an extremely frivolous matter. If a marriage came about because of a bet, it would inevitably be tinged with an air of casualness.

At the time, the situation had forced her hand, and since Puyang believed she would have to request this edict sooner or later anyway, she had not refused it as a superfluous gesture. But thinking back on it now, it was, after all, not solemn enough.

Puyang hesitated, “Sir…”

Before bestowing a marriage, the Emperor would often consult both parties to avoid creating a resentful couple. This edict had come suddenly, and Wei Xiu had already guessed that the Emperor must have spoken with the Princess beforehand.

She roused herself from her stunned state and, seeing Puyang’s hesitation, felt her heart soften. “Let’s go inside first,” she said gently.

With the New Year approaching, every part of the residence showed signs of festive liveliness. The furnishings in the hall had all been replaced, presenting a completely new look at a glance.

Wei Xiu had no sense of home. After the disaster of her childhood, she had moved frequently, rarely settling in one place. Later, she moved to Mount Mang because of its proximity to the capital, which was convenient for her arrangements and plans.

The Princess’s residence had been built under the supervision of the Ministry of Works, and this hall in particular was constructed according to regulations, with nothing novel about it. Yet, as it fell into Wei Xiu’s eyes now, it seemed intimate and lovely.

Puyang wheeled her into the inner chamber. Knowing she feared the severe cold, she took a small blanket from the couch in the heated room and placed it over Wei Xiu’s legs.

The small blanket was soft, smooth, and comfortable, providing great warmth on her legs. Puyang then went to the door and instructed the servants to bring in a brazier. After making the arrangements, she turned back to see Wei Xiu looking at her with a gentle smile.

Puyang blushed slightly and sat down beside Wei Xiu, asking softly, “What is Sir smiling about?”

Wei Xiu raised a hand to her shoulder. “Your Highness has worked hard.”

From some unknown point in time, Puyang had come to understand all her daily habits and had been quietly taking care of her. Although Wei Xiu had never said anything, she was moved by Her Highness’s gentle thoroughness, while also feeling a sense of regret. If only she could walk like a normal person, Her Highness would not have to toil so, and she could be just as considerate in caring for Her Highness.

The joy of the marriage edict once again bloomed in Puyang’s heart. Soon they would be married, become a married couple, and stay together for a hundred years. She had thought that at this moment she would be thrilled and excited, but who knew it would be so peaceful, as if her heart were wrapped in a soft, warm ball of cotton.

Puyang gazed gently at Wei Xiu. Just as she was about to explain the full story behind the marriage edict, Wei Xiu gestured for her not to speak.