Spring Remains the Same - Chapter 95

A three-year mourning period is the universal mourning practice throughout the realm.

When a father dies, the son observes three years of filial piety. For three years, there is no music, no drinking of wine, no eating of meat, and no banquets or dancing.

Wei Xiu and Puyang also had to sleep in separate beds. Having grown accustomed to sharing a bed, to being able to turn and feel the other’s warm, soft body, the sudden separation was something Wei Xiu found quite unsettling.

The thought of three more years like this made Wei Xiu taste for the first time what it meant for time to feel long.

The late Emperor’s coffin had been interred in the imperial mausoleum, and the funeral affairs were concluded. Envoys from all four directions arrived in the capital one after another to offer their condolences. The court tasked the Grand Herald’s Office with receiving them. The court’s conduct represented the face of the Great Wei; they could not allow the envoys to look down on them, lest it needlessly breed treacherous ambitions. The Grand Herald’s Office meticulously arranged every detail, becoming so overwhelmed that they had to borrow several officials from the Ministry of Rites.

The Grand Herald’s Office happened to be under Puyang’s supervision, so she inevitably had to oversee matters. With the Spring Festival over, the common people had to begin their farm work again. This was a matter of utmost importance, and Puyang paid it special attention. After two consecutive years of natural disasters, if the weather was not favorable this year, the people would find it difficult to survive. She consulted with the Chancellor and the Prince of Zheng, drafted a set of proposals, and then discussed them article by article with the ministers responsible for agriculture. Once confirmed, she sent documents to every province and commandery, ordering the local officials to manage the spring planting well and encourage the people to cultivate their lands.

These days were exhausting. Puyang was even more tired than the late Emperor had been. The late Emperor could make his own decisions, with no one to tie his hands, but Puyang had to lead the ministers in reporting to Xiao Dewen. Xiao Dewen barely understood, yet he loved to meddle in every matter. The ministers had no choice but to explain things to him. If he didn’t understand the first time, they had to repeat it. When they finally managed to explain it in simple enough terms for him to grasp, he would have a sudden whim and issue a few orders of his own.

How could he possibly know how to govern a country? The entire realm, with its numerous provinces and commanderies, required coordination. Each region had its own circumstances; the prosperous needed to aid the poor, and the poor, in turn, had to provide something in return. Xiao Dewen knew nothing of these myriad complexities and spoke only from assumption. The ministers had to refute him. At first, they were mindful of the Son of Heaven’s dignity, using mild words and a gentle tone. Later, they grew truly annoyed and could no longer be bothered with the Emperor’s feelings, their phrasing becoming increasingly stern.

The affairs of the court were heavy, and the ministers were men who were neither gentle nor patient. They knew how to govern a state, but they were not skilled at coaxing a child.

After several months of this, although it was tiring, the gains were also substantial.

In this life, without Wei Xiu’s guidance and counsel, Xiao Dewen’s arrogance and ignorance quickly became apparent after his ascension. The ministers, disappointed, swiftly gravitated toward the person with greater power, more promise, and the ability to offer them more benefits. Coupled with the Chancellor’s deliberate indulgence and the Prince of Zheng’s feigned ignorance, Puyang’s influence swept through the court like a hurricane.

The Prince of Jin had been full of ambition, but after a few months, he discovered he no longer had the ability to contend with Puyang. It wasn’t just him; the Prince of Zhao and the others were in the same position. Weakened by the late Emperor, the four princes’ power had contracted and had yet to recover. Puyang, however, had laid an exceptionally solid foundation in the early stages. Upon entering the court, she was like a flood dragon entering the sea—victorious at every turn, unstoppable.

Some of the more perceptive ministers had realized that Her Highness Puyang had long been preparing for this day; she had long held the ambition to take full control of the court. Though they saw through it, they dared not speak of it, only secretly showing goodwill to the princess. As for the young emperor, he was becoming more and more of a figurehead.

Although her power grew daily, the hearts of the court were unsettled and still needed to be soothed and stabilized.

Puyang tried to recall the major events that had occurred during these years in her past life, so she could prepare in advance and prevent turmoil in the court. However, since her rebirth, the situation had changed drastically. Many events had already deviated from their original course, leaving no trace to follow.

The advantage her rebirth had given her was shrinking, yet Puyang did not feel uneasy. She had Wei Xiu by her side.

Another busy day passed. By the time she returned to her residence, it was nearly the hour of Hai. The spring planting was finished, and feedback had come from the various provinces and commanderies. Most of it was good, but a few remote areas still lacked water and seeds. She and the ministers had already drafted solutions.

Upon entering the residence, Puyang first asked the household steward what the Prince Consort had done that day. The steward answered each question. During the national mourning period, the capital was much more subdued. The Prince Consort did not go out, so she remained within the residence.

Once Puyang had her answers, she dismissed the steward and walked toward the inner courtyard. Passing the study, she saw that the lamp was still lit. A silhouette was cast upon the window paper; she was playing a jade xiao.

The sound of the xiao was clear and serene, flowing through the crisp, cold spring night like a drop of water falling into a spring river, creating ripples that spread out and merged with the water. In this tranquil night, accompanied by such a moving melody, Puyang wanted only to immerse herself in it.

It had been a long time since she had heard Wei Xiu play the xiao. She had once thought of accompanying her on the qin, but a good opportunity had never arisen. This moment, however, was perfect. Delighted, Puyang was about to have someone fetch her qin when the music abruptly stopped. The study window was pushed open from within, and Wei Xiu looked out from behind it.

Puyang froze. They were less than five paces apart, one in the lamplight, the other in the darkness of the night. Wei Xiu still held the jade xiao in her hand—the very one Puyang had gifted her on Mount Mang all those years ago. Her gaze was clear and cold, like this spring night that still held a lingering chill. But when she saw clearly who was outside the window, a slight smile appeared on her lips, and her cool eyes became like a river after the ice and snow have melted, flowing gently.

Puyang watched, mesmerized. She had always felt that there was no one in this world more beautiful than A Xiu. At this moment, she felt it even more strongly. Her every frown and smile, every raised eyebrow and curved lip, was beautiful enough to be a painting. Even if she did nothing but look at Wei Xiu for a lifetime, she would never grow tired of it.

Seeing her standing there motionless in a daze, Wei Xiu couldn’t help but feel a sense of fond exasperation. She had no choice but to summon a maidservant to wheel her out.

It was getting late; it was time to return to their rooms and rest.

Wei Xiu came before Puyang, looked up at her, and smiled. “You’re early today. Have you had your evening meal?”

Puyang finally came back to her senses, a blush sweeping across her cheeks. She said in a low voice, “I ate with them at the palace.”

Wei Xiu smiled but said nothing more, only gesturing for the maidservant to push her forward.

Puyang watched her go on ahead. She suddenly remembered that she hadn’t really seen Wei Xiu for several days. In the early days of the new emperor’s reign, the court was in utter chaos. There were loopholes everywhere, as if the vast imperial court had forgotten how to function with the passing of the late Emperor. For months, she had left early and returned late every day, managing the overall situation. Sometimes, she returned so late that Wei Xiu was already asleep. In the mornings, after a hasty breakfast, she would be gone for the entire day again.

When she was busy, she couldn’t spare a thought for anything else. But now, the night was beautiful, and A Xiu was right in front of her, sitting in her wheelchair with her back to her, as they made their way back to their rooms together.

A sudden flood of longing filled Puyang’s heart. She quickened her pace to walk beside Wei Xiu. Wei Xiu glanced at her and gave a gentle, warm smile. With that smile, Puyang’s heart leaped with joy.

Back in their room, after washing up, the two went to their separate beds.

Two beds were placed in the inner chamber, one on each side, with a screen separating them. The lamps were all extinguished, save for one in the corner left lit for getting up in the night.

Puyang lay down but couldn’t fall asleep for a long time, her mind filled with thoughts of Wei Xiu. She was not far away, separated only by a screen. In the silent darkness, she strained her ears, feeling as if she could hear the calm rhythm of Wei Xiu’s breathing.

Puyang realized that it had been a long time since she had spent any time alone with A Xiu. A Xiu also often went to the small courtyard by the bamboo grove by herself and rarely sought her out. As a result, although they still slept in the same room every day, they hadn’t had a proper conversation in a very long time.

For a moment, Puyang’s heart clenched with panic. She was truly worried that, as time went on, they would grow distant like this.

“A Xiu,” she called out softly, “are you asleep?”

Wei Xiu was still awake. Hearing her call, she immediately replied, “No.” Just as she was about to ask what was the matter, she heard a soft rustling sound as Puyang came around the screen, feeling her way in the dark.

Although it was already spring, the nights were still cold. Wei Xiu quickly shifted inward, making space for Puyang to get in.

Puyang lay down beside her and pulled the cotton quilt over herself. It was warm with Wei Xiu’s body heat, not cold at all. Wei Xiu propped herself up, reached over, and tucked the corner of the quilt in securely for her. Only after making sure no draft could get in did she ask, “Why did you come over?”

Puyang was silent for a moment, then snuggled closer to Wei Xiu until she was leaning against her. Only then did she ask softly, “The steward said you didn’t go out today and spent all your time in the bamboo grove. What were you doing there?”

Wei Xiu pulled her closer, holding her tightly. “Two years ago, you said you wanted to raise a few fish in the pond in the bamboo grove, do you remember? I had someone find some fry, and since the weather is getting warm, it’s a good time to put them in. By autumn, the mandarin fish will be plump and savory. I’ll make you a fish soup; you’re sure to like it.” She had been thinking about this last year, but unfortunately, she had been bedridden and unable to get up.

Only then did Puyang remember her casual remark from over two years ago, before they were even married. She hadn’t thought A Xiu would remember it all this time. She felt that her fear of them growing distant was truly unnecessary. How could A Xiu ever grow distant from her?

Outside, there were storms and turmoil, but returning to Wei Xiu’s side was like arriving at the Peach Blossom Spring, with its fragrant fresh grass and a riot of fallen blossoms. Time was tranquil, and the years felt serene and distant.

Some people are just like that, unhurried and composed in everything they do, causing those around them to become composed as well.

Puyang pictured the scene of an autumn day, fishing by the pond, lighting a fire to cook the fish, and was filled with immense longing. “Alright. Just the two of us.”

That wasn’t difficult. Wei Xiu naturally agreed.