The road stretched far into the distance. Even if she wanted to chase after her now, there truly was nothing left to catch up to.
She’d lost control of her emotions just now and panicked for a moment, but now that she’d come back to her senses, she was calm again.
When something happens, you find a workable solution—crying uselessly simply wasn’t her style. Since she couldn’t catch up and couldn’t bring Qing Niao back, all she could do was walk the path in front of her properly.
“What are you all still standing there for?” He Chang’an leaned his head out and called to the people outside. “Everyone’s in the carriage now—why aren’t we moving?”
The crowd had imagined many scenarios for the Empress’s return to the palace, but none of them had expected her to be tied up and hauled back, so to speak. Laughing helplessly, they mounted their horses and carriages, following behind Hua Chun’s carriage as it moved forward.
“Consort Wan really does have a fiery temperament—being handed the empress’s throne and she still didn’t budge, still wanted to run.”
“No wonder the Emperor favors her. She really is different from the rest.”
Several officials on horseback discussed this, and Hua Chun rolled her eyes inside the carriage listening to them.
This whole crowd had been played for fools again by her and Yuwen Jie working together—not knowing the truth, they’d probably be furious if they ever found out. This move of hers, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, had some luck involved, but it had all been arranged beforehand. The Emperor turning against her, then moving to execute her—all it took was rain falling on the execution ground, and every rumor would collapse on its own.
For this, she’d specially had He Chang’an rush-build hydraulic pressure devices according to a design, four of them in total, holding ten tons of water, placed behind the buildings surrounding the execution ground, spraying water at a forty-five degree angle. The firewood piled beneath her feet had also been lined with fireproofing—at most she’d choke on some smoke, but there was no way she’d actually die.
But after this burning, everything that was rightfully hers, these people would now have to deliver into her hands themselves. She’d originally planned that if the disaster continued, she could claim they’d wronged an innocent person. As it turned out, the disaster subsided instead, so now the only story left to tell was that Heaven had opened its eyes because of her.
Manipulating public opinion—if others could do it, so could she.
Now, no matter what lay behind all this, no one could separate her and Yuwen Jie anymore.
Except… it had separated her and Qing Niao.
When friendship and love came into conflict, what was one supposed to do? There was no precise truth to point the way, since everyone’s circumstances differed. Like her situation now… perhaps there simply was no solution.
Sighing, Hua Chun listened as the carriage passed through bustling Yanjing and arrived at the inn where she’d temporarily be staying. Everything had been arranged in advance. Rui’er took out the prepared phoenix robe and phoenix crown, dressing her up properly. Outside the palace, a red carpet had been laid out as if welcoming an honored guest, and the ailing Emperor stood atop the palace gate tower, waiting quietly.
Flanked by officials on both sides, an hour later, Hua Chun—draped in a golden phoenix robe, her hair done up in a court phoenix bun, her round belly leading the way—was helped out.
“Is it all right for me to accompany you over there?” He Chang’an pressed his lips together, looking at her. “With your arm linked through mine?”
“You’re my elder brother in name,” Hua Chun said through gritted teeth without moving her lips. “Where I’m from, walking down the wedding aisle means linking arms with family, who then hand the bride over to the groom’s family.”
Her first entry into the palace had been done in secret, and losing her innocence had happened in a muddle too—this time counted as a makeup wedding of sorts, she supposed.
He Chang’an didn’t quite understand, though the one thing he did grasp was that she now considered him family. His body stiffened slightly, and he couldn’t quite name the feeling in his chest. Lowering his eyes, he supported her arm and led her onto the red carpet.
“Your Majesty,” Eunuch Qin stood behind the Emperor, unable to help but remind him quietly, “you’re still ill.”
“I know,” the Emperor said, lips curving. “I’ve put on a cloak.”
…It wasn’t about the cloak at all! The man supposedly “ill” now had his whole face lit up with joy, his eyes sparkling bright—where did that look anything like a serious illness? Helplessly, he turned to glance around and found everyone’s attention fixed on the Empress below, no one paying attention to the Emperor’s expression, and only then did he feel somewhat relieved.
Who said the Emperor was a man of great restraint? In just this short while, he couldn’t even keep up the pretense anymore! It left this servant on edge, ugh…
Walking slowly, Hua Chun gazed across the distance toward the tower above the palace gate, where that man stood, his eyes burning with intensity.
These days they’d exchanged very few words, very few indeed, but at their meeting on the execution ground, the understanding between them had been perfectly intact—one look from either of them, and the other knew exactly what was on their mind, matching each other seamlessly. She’d always thought her feelings for the Emperor hadn’t changed much, that things were simply as they’d always been, but now she suddenly realized that, without her noticing, the two of them had become as familiar with each other as one’s own left and right hand.
Was this… what people called love deepening with time?
Giving herself a shiver at how sappy that sounded, Hua Chun pressed her lips together and kept walking forward.
“Almost there,” He Chang’an reminded her.
Hua Chun nodded, then thought for a moment and said: “I never did thank Second Brother properly. I should say it now.”
Once she stepped into the palace this time, she truly would have no more worries. From now on, whenever she saw him again, it would certainly be with all the proper formalities between them.
Lowering his eyes, He Chang’an laughed softly: “What is there to thank me for? If anything, I should be thanking you.”
“Thanking me for what?” Hua Chun raised an eyebrow.
“If not for you, I still wouldn’t know to this day what it means to ‘suffer in gaining’ or ‘suffer in losing,'” he said with a faint smile, letting out a breath. “A life with only sweetness would be dull indeed. Thank you, Your Highness, for letting me taste the full range of what feeling can be.”
This… Hua Chun looked a bit embarrassed: “Second Brother, you still haven’t worked through it?”
“I worked through it long ago, don’t worry about me,” He Chang’an said. “I worked through it from the moment I decided to marry someone else.”
Only, working through it and letting go were two different matters. If he’d truly been capable of controlling his own heart at will, then… there wouldn’t have been so many sleepless nights.
People were clever creatures—those with better self-control would, once they knew something was unattainable, withdraw their desires and ambitions. Still, the regret of what couldn’t be had would linger for a long while, and it simply depended on when some other chance encounter came along to offset that regret.
Hua Chun pressed her lips together: “I can’t say anything sentimental, and I can’t hand you a ‘nice guy’ card either, but Second Brother’s life is still long ahead of him. Missing out on this one flower that is me, there’s a whole garden left—someday a unique, unhurried love that requires no settling will come along and give you the best answer of all.”
“It’s a joyous day—no need to console me,” He Chang’an said with a wry laugh. “As long as you’re happy, Second Brother is happy too, naturally.”
What kind of selfless person was this, how could anyone not want to hand him a nice-guy card! Hua Chun sighed skyward—He Chang’an really was a good man!
As they neared the palace gate, the Emperor personally descended from the tower. The hundred officials knelt as one, crying out loudly: “Long live the Emperor, long, long live! Long live Her Highness, long, long live—”