—— [“I want to be an oyster, using time and flesh to nurture my pearl.”]
Late at night, heavy snow suddenly began to fall. There was no wind, and snowflakes drifted everywhere like cotton. The plum trees throughout the garden bloomed overnight, red as blood, standing delicately on the branches.
Mei Xiang entered the hall at night to add coal and was startled to see her sitting on the couch. She slowly walked forward and called softly, “Miss, what’s wrong?”
Chu Qiao wore a white cotton nightgown, her long hair like black satin. She seemed slightly dazed, her face pale. She shook her head slightly and said, “I’m just feeling a bit anxious.”
Hearing this, Mei Xiang’s lips curled into a faint smile, teasing her, “The Fourth Young Master has only been gone for two days, and the Miss is already lovesick and unable to sleep?”
Although Zhuge Yue occupied Qinghai, he still governed as a vassal of Da Xia, respecting Zhao Che from the North as his sovereign. Therefore, in terms of rank, he was still a prince, and Chu Qiao was a princess consort. Mei Xiang had followed them for a long time but had never changed her form of address.
Chu Qiao gently scolded her, and Mei Xiang withdrew.
The curtains lightly rolled, the lamp shadows deep. Without him, the room suddenly seemed vast.
She recalled the dream she had just had. In the dream, the woman’s silhouette was blurry and slender, her face pale, but the smile at the corners of her mouth was gentle and serene. Dressed in a white gown, she stood quietly in a courtyard of blue bricks and red tiles, gazing at her. Snow-white pear blossoms bloomed behind her, falling petal by petal in the wind.
The deep night was cold and quiet. At some point, the wind suddenly rose outside, carrying snow and plum blossoms to beat against the window frame with a rustling sound.
She gazed silently out the window, a strange bitterness slowly rising in her heart, for reasons and people unknown.
That day was the fourth day of the twelfth lunar month. Zhuge Yue had gone to Gong Yue to handle military affairs and had been gone for just two days. In Yanhua Hall of the Star Moon Palace, Chu Qiao had a dream where she saw a strange woman standing outside her window, standing silently for a long time before leaving.
Half a month later, Zhuge Yue returned from Gong Yue, galloping all the way, dusty from the journey.
Zhuge Yunzhou frowned his little brows and complained to his mother before even getting off the carriage, aggrieved, “Zhou’er never wants to go out with Father again. Always rushing on the road like we’re being chased, not fun at all.”
Li Qingrong, now eight years old, resembled his father greatly and particularly loved bright-colored clothing. In his every gesture, there was the demeanor of that man from years past. He leaned lazily against a stone pillar in front of the palace gate, continuously yawning, his almond eyes slightly upturned, grumbling, “I told you so, but you wouldn’t believe me and insisted on going along.”
Chu Qiao ignored them and walked straight over, smiling as she brushed the dust off the corner of Zhuge Yue’s clothes, asking, “Was the journey tiring?”
Zhuge Yue embraced her and planted a light kiss on her cheek. “It was fine.”
“Alas!” Zhuge Yunzhou sighed helplessly. Seeing no one paying attention to him, he could only climb down from the carriage with his little arms and legs, shaking his head as he disembarked, “The world is declining, and people’s hearts are unpredictable. Even though we’re all family, the treatment differs so much.”
Li Qingrong made a pained expression, covering his eyes with one hand while feeling his way back to the palace with the other.
That night, a grand banquet was held at the Star-Moon Palace. Delicacies were served one after another, the dancing was graceful, and the music melodious. Palace attendants moved elegantly, trusted officials brought their families, and the great hall was filled with laughter and joy. Yet none of this compared to a single glance from him. Outside, snow piled up, plum trees swayed, and when the wind blew, snowflakes tumbled and danced like the water sleeves of a fairy from the Jade Pool.
He had drunk some wine and was in good spirits. When teased by his subordinates about rushing home through the night because his heart was with his family, he just stared stubbornly with wide eyes, looking like a child who would settle accounts later.
That night, after the banquet dispersed and the palace gates closed, within the lightly flying curtains, their skin burned hot in a passionate embrace. After the clouds dispersed and the rain ceased, he gently kissed her earlobe, whispering in her ear, “Xing’er, the Empress Nalan of Zhenhuang City has passed away.”
Passed away? Gone where?
For a moment, Chu Qiao’s mind seemed a bit confused, her usually clear thoughts still not having emerged from the extreme warmth. She leaned in his embrace, thinking hazily: Empress Nalan? Which Empress Nalan?
“They say she died of sudden illness, already for half a month. After I heard, I was very frightened, remembering how you were when you were sick, so I became even more impatient to rush back.”
Zhuge Yue spoke softly, his arms encircling her from behind, his chest pressed tightly against her smooth back, holding her so tightly that it was almost difficult to breathe.
But Chu Qiao’s body gradually stiffened, coldness rising from her fingertips, creeping up bit by bit, like winter well water from the Yan Bei plateau, capable of freezing one’s nerves. The wind outside blew, making a howling sound, and a plum tree branch swayed in front of the window, graceful like a woman’s slender waist and cloud-like hair.
She suddenly remembered that night half a month ago when she awoke from her sleep in shock, her body covered in cold sweat, sticky against her skin. After so many days, she had forgotten, forgotten that person’s eyebrows, forgotten that person’s face, forgotten the cloud pattern on that person’s clothes. But she still remembered those eyes, serene and calm, like clouds in the high sky, floating lightly, falling upon her, yet seeming to look through her to somewhere far, far away.
She saw her silhouette, so thin, the wind lifting the corners of her clothes, with pear blossoms falling on her head, scattering a ground of paleness.
They had never met, and their only interaction in this life seemed to still be that inadvertent glance.
Ink splashed messily, scented paper, disordered verses, only the heartbroken tears of a woman, falling drop by drop, soaking through the paper, blurring the thick ink, dissolving into a shallow tear mark.
By a strange coincidence, her pain went unseen by all except her, who in a casual glance, saw the wounds of a high-ranking woman that were never shown to others.
The mountain has trees, trees have branches, my heart rejoices in you, but you do not know…
With a whoosh, a black shadow flashed outside the window, and she suddenly startled, her fingers becoming rigid.
Zhuge Yue noticed her discomfort and held her in his arms, half propping himself up, calling out, “What’s that?”
From outside the hall came the hurried footsteps of a palace attendant, and someone replied in a high voice, “Prince, it’s a raven flying at night.”
“Order the arrow mechanism camp to shoot all those feathered beasts nearby.”
“Yes, this servant will see to it immediately.”
The night wind continued to blow. Zhuge Yue held her, comforting softly, “Don’t be afraid, it’s nothing, just a bird.”
Her eyes suddenly felt hot. She turned around and tightly embraced his waist.
He held her with one arm and gently patted her back with the other, somewhat investigating, asking in a low voice, “Xing’er, what’s wrong?”
She buried her face in his warm embrace, her voice very small, saying quietly, “I just feel that life is unpredictable.”
He said soothingly, “Life is unpredictable, but not for you and me.”
Chu Qiao raised her head, her jet-black eyes showing a confused expression in the darkness. She frowned slightly and said, “Some things are ultimately beyond human power, and heaven’s will is hard to fathom.”
“I’ve never believed in any gods or Buddhas.”
He smiled faintly, his eyes shining with a bright light. He leaned forward, lightly kissing the corner of her mouth, murmuring, “And I’ve never done anything I would regret.”
Her heart seemed to suddenly fall into scalding hot springs, her limbs and bones all softening. She held him, responding subtly with her lips and teeth, her skin like satin, touching and rubbing bit by bit. Her fingers like butterfly wings, gliding over his broad shoulders, pressing against his hard chest, her ear coming close, and even through her palm, she could hear that steady, powerful heartbeat.
Thump, thump, thump—
Her tears fell drop by drop, without reason, and she didn’t want to stop them.
Outside the window, snow was falling heavily. She was in her own warm bedroom at home, leaning in her husband’s embrace, and in the opposite sleeping chamber slept her son. The world was so vast, but her world was firmly grasped in her hands. No matter what storms came into this world, she dared to face all twists and hardships.
Winter in Qinghai is very short and quickly passed.
Spring rain is as precious as oil, as fine as dancing ox hair. This day was an auspicious day for spring plowing. Zhuge Yue led the court officials to the Divine Farmer’s Altar. Ouyang had grown up and, along with Ping’an Duoji, followed Zhuge Yue for duties. Jing Jing was bored to death and begged Chu Qiao to go out of the palace for some fresh air.
She had been feeling tired lately and didn’t like to move much, but unable to refuse her, she had to take Yunzhou and Rong’er out of the palace. Despite his young age, Li Qingrong was extremely fond of sleeping. Having just left the palace gates, he hadn’t yet woken up. Chu Qiao had no choice but to prepare a separate carriage for him, while she rode on horseback with Yunzhou and Jing Jing.
Upon reaching the mountain, everyone dismounted and proceeded on foot. Li Qingrong followed behind, sighing and groaning, saying repeatedly that he had come to Qinghai to escape the bustle, only to find himself still laboring.
Jing Jing was so angry that she quarreled with him, but after just a few words, she was defeated and had to seek help from Chu Qiao.
Chu Qiao smiled and asked if the Tang Emperor still forced him to study state affairs every day.
He nodded urgently, sighing helplessly, “Royal Brother says that when I’m a few years older, I can take over for him for a few years, to let him catch his breath.”
Chu Qiao had long known that the brothers were very close, so she wasn’t surprised. She smiled and said, “It’s rare for your Royal Brother to have such a broad mind.”
Li Qingrong, however, pursed his lips disdainfully, “Being an emperor is the most bitter job in the world. He wants to trick me into falling for it, but there’s no way.”
The fine rain fell like silk, making the mountain path slippery. As everyone reached the mountaintop, the sky happened to clear. The rising sun pierced through the clouds, and a great rainbow descended, like a ribbon from the edge of the sky.
Jing Jing danced with joy, while Zhuge Yunzhou frowned at her, asking, “Mother, when will Auntie get married?”
Jing Jing sensitively turned her head and said fiercely, “Why do you care?”
Zhuge Yunzhou pouted, “Who cares about you? I just want some peace.”
As the two were quarreling on one side, Chu Qiao turned her head to see Li Qingrong wearing a bright red light robe, his soft belt tying his hat, his sleeves fluttering, leaning against a green pine. Despite his young age, his features were identical to Li Ce. His slender eyes were like a fox’s, half-squinting. Seeing her looking, he suddenly smiled and said, “When will Auntie have another little sister? When Rong’er grows up, give her to Rong’er as a wife.”
Chu Qiao was stunned, laughing and asking, “You’re so young, why did you suddenly think of this?”
“It’s not sudden,” Li Qingrong raised his eyebrows, a shallow smile at the corners of his mouth. Though still a child, his eyes seemed to be covered with a layer of misty haze, making them impenetrable.
“I’ve had this thought since I was little. It seems Rong’er was born for this purpose.”
The gentle breeze came, lifting Li Qingrong’s hair. He looked into the distance, saying quietly, “Auntie, there are too many unhappy couples in this world, like my father and mother, grandfather and grandmother, all harboring hatred for a lifetime, never stopping until death. Couples like Auntie and the Prince are too rare.”
Suddenly, the mountain wind rose. Seeing Chu Qiao’s thin clothing, he hurriedly fetched a cloak and ran over. Despite his small stature, he steadily draped the cloak over her.
The young boy smiled and said, “Auntie, I want a sister to be my wife, so you and the Prince need to work hard.”
Seeing such a small child also teasing her, Chu Qiao felt a bit embarrassed and lightly scolded him a few times, but he maintained that smiling, lazy demeanor.
The fine rain stopped, the rainbow curved, and sunlight pierced through the clouds, casting a golden glow on the ground.
Half a month later, when the Imperial Physician’s Office reported during pulse-taking, they submitted a joy report: the Qinghai Princess Consort was pregnant.
At the end of the same year, a daughter was added to the Star Moon Palace, named Zhuge Yunshen, with the childhood name Pearl, also known as Princess Pearl.
The marriage proposal from Bian Tang passed through the Cuiwei Pass in the second month. Li Qingrong, riding a horse, intercepted it halfway and drove the envoys who had brought the marriage proposal back to Bian Tang.
Tang Emperor Li Xiuyi wrote a letter scolding him for losing his mind, but he just lightly snorted, replying, “The pearl of an oyster, what has it to do with a clam?”
Another child moved into the bedchamber of Yanhua Hall. The poor Qinghai Prince, after ending a half-year period of abstinence, had to start the difficult path of competing for his wife again.
The wind blew from the pass, carrying the faint fragrance of green grass. One year gone, another year come. On the east coast of Huai Song, fishermen caught new oysters this year. Some oysters had brilliant pearls, while others had thrown away their pearls.
Originally all just a grain of sand, becoming precious only because someone cherished it.
Polished over time, finally became a pearl.