The sun rose and the moon set. Spring gave way to autumn.

When the world was once again draped in silver-white, the small osmanthus tree that Shen Zhuxi had transplanted from Jinzhou to Xiangzhou, and then from Xiangzhou back to the capital city, had quietly grown into a large osmanthus tree without anyone quite realizing it.

Under the careful tending of the Shanglin Garden keepers, it still grew in its lopsided, wayward fashion — much like its former owner Li Wu, who had always had his own ideas about where he was headed.

Beside that large osmanthus tree stood another osmanthus tree, one of such great age that no one could say anymore how many years it had been there.

The two osmanthus trees refused to yield an inch to each other, each competing to spread its branches and claim its patch of ground, jostling for territory. When the breeze passed through, their matching limbs swatted at each other, just like a pair of brothers tussling and messing about.

Shen Zhuxi, Li Wu, and the others sat beneath the old osmanthus tree, its boughs heaped with snow, gathered around a large pot bubbling and steaming with rich fragrance, all of them swallowing in anticipation.

“Is it ready yet? Is it ready yet?” Li Kun craned his neck toward the boiling pot, inching closer and closer with the unmistakable energy of someone who wouldn’t mind toppling straight into it.

“Get back!” Li Wu grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him away from the pot. “I don’t want to be eating scorched skinhead.”

Shen Zhuxi laughed at his irreverent bluntness and patted Li Kun on the shoulder by way of comfort, saying:

“Haste makes waste — just wait a little longer.”

Li Kun, having just been scolded by Li Wu, muttered with a disgruntled pout: “But I’m not eating hot tofu…”

“Me! Me! Me!” Having caught only half of what was said, Dong Miji called out in urgent excitement. “Where? Hot tofu?”

“This one here used to know how to make tofu, but ever since little Mei was born, I’ve been finding it harder and harder to keep up.” Jiu Niang lifted an embroidered handkerchief to cover her still-captivating face, her expression full of quiet lament. “In a few more years, I’ll be faded and past my prime — and even if I could still make tofu, there’d be no one left who’d want to come and eat it.”

“What kind of talk is that!” Niuwang, who appeared to have ears on the back of his head even while in the middle of a finger-guessing drinking game with Da Hu and Er Hu, spun around immediately and bellowed. “Even if you do go yellow, it’s because you’re pure gold — so you’re the one doing people a favor by making tofu for them. That’s luck they earned in a past life. Anyone who doesn’t want that kind of luck, I’ll personally send them off to try their chances in the next life.”

“Pure gold pig—” Li Kun mimicked Niuwang’s manner of speaking. “Isn’t there one right here?”

“Alright, alright! It’s ready! Come and eat!”

Bai Rongling blew frantically at her mouth, the tip of her tongue pressing urgently against a piping hot tendon. She hollered with her mouth full.

Li Kun heard the signal and immediately shot his long chopsticks toward the pot. The broth churned and rolled, and the beef tendons seemed to be playing hide-and-seek with his chopsticks. After several failed attempts, he gave up on finesse entirely, grabbed a ladle, and scooped five or six pieces of tendons into his bowl in one go.

“Here— eat! Eat! Don’t let that reincarnated starved ghost eat everything!” Bai Rongling quickly rescued one piece of glistening, tender braised tendons from beneath Li Kun’s chopsticks and placed it with attentive care into A’Xue’s bowl beside her.

Though A’Xue was seated beneath the tree with everyone else, she still held herself with the deferential posture of a servant in attendance. When Bai Rongling placed food in her bowl, she lowered her eyes, her expression quiet and composed, and offered a slight, gracious nod of thanks.

Shen Zhuxi looked out at the warm, lively scene of their whole gathered family, and felt a deep wave of feeling move through her. The last time they had all come together like this around a pot of hotpot had been back in Yutou Town.

Back then, only she and Li Wu and his two brothers had sat at that table.

Now, a single large pot could no longer hold all the people who had joined them since.

“What are you staring into space for? Eat while it’s hot…”

A piece of crystal-clear, richly fatty beef tendons was placed into Shen Zhuxi’s bowl. She looked up and met the bright, spirited eyes of Li Wu.

Under Li Wu’s expectant gaze, she picked up the slippery tendons with her chopsticks and brought it carefully to her lips.

Her teeth pressed gently into it — and a rush of rich, savory broth burst across her tongue, spreading through her entire mouth. The beef tendons, braised with care over two full hours, were full of springy give and had soaked through with flavor. After she swallowed, her gaze drifted involuntarily back toward the steaming, fragrant pot.

Li Wu rapped Li Kun’s chopsticks away from the pot with his own — she had lost count of what number strike that was by now — and lifted out another generous piece of tender, fatty tendon to drop into Shen Zhuxi’s bowl.

Shen Zhuxi returned the gesture, lifting a piece from the pot and placing it in Li Wu’s bowl in kind.

“…Is this the latest dining fashion here in the capital?” Xiao Hu, in his white python-embroidered fitted jacket, sat cross-legged and watched the two of them across the iron pot with an expression of peculiar bemusement.

“This is the Li family way of dining.”

Xiao Hu glanced sideways at the one who had spoken, and said: “Are you not a member of the Li family yourself?”

Li Que leveled a blank look at him, reached into the pot with his chopsticks, lifted a clove of garlic, and placed it in Xiao Hu’s bowl. “Eat,” he said.

“Brother-in-law, when are you going to make a southern inspection tour?” Bai Rongling muttered between chews of beef tendons. “Or else, summon my grandfather to the palace so he can see for himself how my cousin is doing these days — otherwise, every time I go back, I have to sit through his endless lecturing, and my ears are going to grow calluses!”

“That won’t do.” Shen Zhuxi frowned. “Yangzhou is far from the capital — Grandfather is getting on in years, he cannot be made to endure such a long and tiring journey. And a southern inspection tour is pure wishful thinking. Just this year alone, clearing the palace grounds of floodwater and silt has cost a fortune — where would the funds for an inspection tour come from?”

Shen Zhuxi firmly extinguished the restless idea stirring behind Li Wu’s eyes.

“Even a modest and simple tour would have to wait another two years, until Great Yan has had time to recover and replenish itself — this is how it should be for His Majesty.” Shen Zhuxi paused, then said: “But there has always been a precedent throughout the dynasties for palace consorts to leave the palace and visit family. I…”

“Don’t even think about it. Give me half a year — I’ll find the money for the southern inspection tour myself, one way or another.”

Just as Shen Zhuxi had firmly extinguished Li Wu’s idea of going on tour, Li Wu now just as firmly extinguished Shen Zhuxi’s idea of making the trip to Yangzhou alone.

“You know what I’ve realized—” Li Wu grumbled, cursing under his breath. “The Ministry of Finance is completely useless. All they do is moan about being broke day in and day out. If you actually want to raise money, you’ve got to do it yourself. So what if I’m the Emperor? I’ve only got one backside — if I’m sleeping in this bed, I can’t be sleeping in the other one, so what’s the use of having all those palaces? I haven’t enjoyed a single imperial privilege, but the troubles just keep coming one after another. If I’d known being Emperor was this thankless, I should’ve just been a mountain bandit king.”

“His Majesty’s fortune and blessings are without measure — how could shallow waters hope to hold a true dragon?”

A slender, graceful figure approached and bowed with proper courtesy to both Shen Zhuxi and Li Wu.

Li Qingman was dressed in the robes of a female official. Her clear, refined beauty was no less striking than it had been in years past, and a year’s experience in her post had given her gaze a steadiness and composure that only deepened with time. Among Shen Zhuxi’s close female companions, nearly all of them had married and had children by now — all except the one adopted daughter, Sui Rui. As for Li Qingman herself, though her admirers came flocking in endless numbers, not one of them had ever been seen to earn even a passing glance from her.

“Xiao Rui!”

Li Kun dropped his bowl and chopsticks and shot to his feet.

Sui Rui, trailing behind Li Qingman, dropped deliberately into a curtsy: “This commoner greets His Majesty, greets the Empress…”

She hadn’t even finished her ceremonial curtsy when Li Kun, charging out from the crowd, swept her up and tossed her into the air.

“Xiao Rui’s here! Xiao Rui’s here!” Li Kun called out in pure delight.

“Put me down! You great lumbering oaf! Put me down right now, do you hear me?! If you keep this up, I’ll be angry — I really will—”

Before the words were out of her mouth, Sui Rui was already standing back on the ground. Li Kun took her by the hand in plain view of everyone and led her back to the seating area — his face all the uncomplicated joy of a child. Sui Rui, for her part, showed no awareness whatsoever of propriety between men and women, and let him lead her without any protest.

The group had long since grown used to their easy familiarity, and continued on with their own business without so much as a ripple of reaction.

Only Shen Zhuxi, watching Li Kun — who looked about ready to wag a tail with happiness — and Sui Rui, whose feelings toward Li Kun remained impossible to read, felt a quiet thread of worry rise in her chest.

Sui Rui was her closest friend. Li Kun was as good as a younger brother to her. Each was as dear to her as her own hand — she couldn’t bear to see Sui Rui feel shortchanged, nor could she bear to see Li Kun’s heart broken watching Sui Rui marry someone else.

Sui Rui had never once spoken to her about any intentions regarding marriage. She had no idea how Sui Rui felt about Li Kun.

Shen Zhuxi was just about to call Sui Rui over to whisper a quiet inquiry on Li Kun’s behalf, when a sharp whistle tore skyward — followed an instant later by a thunderous, exhilarating boom that shattered the night air.

“Fireworks! Fireworks!” Bai Rongling shrieked in sheer delight. “Did everyone see that?! Miss this and it’s over — these are the fireworks presented as tribute by the Bai Family of Yangzhou, and in terms of shape, in terms of color, they are absolutely without rival in the entire realm!”

One firework after another launched into the sky, blossoming in the still and deep expanse above, lighting up half the night.

After each brief burst of splendor, the sparks fell like flower petals, cascading down in another kind of breathtaking beauty all their own.

The surprise Bai Rongling had taken such care to prepare drew gasps of wonder from everyone — everyone, that is, except one person.

A certain Li-surnamed eccentric who preferred not to be named kicked Bai Rongling squarely in the backside and let loose a stream of curses: “So you’ve got money to spare, have you?! You’ve got money to spare?! With that money, why not donate it to the national treasury!”

Shen Zhuxi pulled Li Wu back, and coaxed him: “Let him be. Tonight is New Year’s Eve — we saved the money we would have spent on the Grand Birthday Celebration, so a few fireworks are hardly going to hurt.”

“…With all this noise, who even has time to enjoy it? If you’ve got the energy to spare, wouldn’t it be better spent eating a couple more bowls of meat?”

Xiao Hu heaved a sigh, picked up his chopsticks, and directed them back toward the long-neglected iron pot.

The crystal-soft tendon pieces churned and tumbled in the bubbling broth. The glowing red coals kept the space beneath the osmanthus tree warm as a spring day. A night breeze passed through, carrying with it the scent of the spices drifting out from the pot.

Fireworks bloomed overhead in a cascade of crackling sound. Beneath the tree, the gathered group laughed and jostled and made merry without end. Li Wu beckoned to Shen Zhuxi with a wave and a face of solemn seriousness. She couldn’t help but mirror his gravity, and leaned in close with bated breath — only for Li Wu’s voice to be swallowed entirely by a bursting firework.

“What did you say?” Shen Zhuxi frowned at him.

“I… said… would… you… yes or no?!”

The fireworks kept breaking his words apart.

Shen Zhuxi instinctively pressed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the noise above. Li Wu shook his head in helpless exasperation and pulled her hands down, saying: “…Are you a silly goose?”

That much, Shen Zhuxi heard clearly.

She would admit to making a fool of herself just now, but that did not mean she was about to take kindly to being called a silly goose.

“You’re the silly goose!” Shen Zhuxi said in annoyance and gave Li Wu a smack.

Before her hand had a chance to draw back, Li Wu had already caught it in his.

“Fine. Then we’re a matching pair of silly geese.” Li Wu said.

A firework unfurled in the high sky in the shape of a chrysanthemum with a thousand petals. Bai Rongling fanned himself with quiet satisfaction before the crowd’s astonished eyes. And in the hush between that firework and the next, as one burst faded before the other rose, the night was briefly, perfectly still.

“This big silly goose wants to ask you, little silly goose —” His eyes were bright and alive, still holding the light of a young man. “When spring comes, would you marry him one more time?”

“What?” Shen Zhuxi was caught completely off guard. “Aren’t we already…”

“Not enough.” Li Wu said. “A man of my stature and renown — how could I be tied with the number one dog in the world? You put on a wedding dress twice for him, so you’ll have to put it on three, four, five times for me—”

Shen Zhuxi went pale with alarm and cut him off immediately: “What do you think this is — celebrating a birthday?! Are you planning to get married every single year?”

“I’d love to—” Li Wu clicked his tongue with relish. “But Old Wang from the Ministry of Finance would hang himself on my doorstep, and I don’t want to foot the bill for his coffin. So…”

Li Wu hooked his arm around Shen Zhuxi’s shoulder and tilted his head to look at her.

“We’ll do it grand, and we’ll do it right, just once — one last grand wedding, yours and mine.” He looked at her earnestly. “…What do you say?”

Even after ascending to the throne as Emperor, not one scrap of that devil-may-care spirit of his had changed. His late father had once said that the throne could make a person unrecognizable — but Li Wu seemed to be an exception.

Whether it was Li Wu collecting waterway management fees in Yutou Town, Li Wu holding up travelers in the hills outside Xiangzhou, or Li Wu after the Battle of Jinhua — who in the span of a single year had won the submission of every military commissioner and was draped in the yellow imperial robe — Shen Zhuxi had never once felt uneasy.

Li Wu was Li Wu. He had not changed before, and he would not change after.

The night was beautiful, and the road ahead stretched on, long and far.

Why not, indeed — once more.

The End.