Time is a whetstone that silently smooths away all sharp edges and corners until they become rounded. No matter how magnificent and turbulent the years, once they pass, they gradually become peaceful. It’s as if all pain and sorrow have been digested—once vibrant people and events slowly fade, becoming in the end merely a legendary story passed down by word of mouth among onlookers.

“Nanny, tell me about the old days. I don’t remember much of it.”

“What’s the point of talking about old matters!” The wet nurse saw that the kumquats in the fortune orange potted plant had all dried and shriveled, stubbornly clinging to the branches refusing to fall. She reached out and pulled off a handful, throwing those scorched yellow hard pits into the soil below, then dusted off her hands. “You gave this servant quite a bit of worry when you were small. At first when we were at Dashamo Alley, you were raised well enough, but later when we returned to the Prince’s mansion, somehow you grew thinner and thinner…”

Dong Li had never been robust from childhood. Because his parents were both too young when they bore him, he was like a sapling lacking nutrition—no matter how much care he received, he was always weaker than others. His education began later than his other brothers. When Dong Qi and Dong Sheng were running around shirtless having fun, he was still sitting under the eaves wearing spring clothes. In terms of health, he was indeed lacking, but his birth was noble, and after the dynastic change he enjoyed unique honor. The Empress’s precious son—even the Emperor regarded him with special favor. To treat his deficiencies, His Majesty personally studied medicine, taking pulses and prescribing medicines with his own hands. Outsiders might see this as deep father-son affection, but they only knew half the story. The reason the Emperor established a Crown Prince immediately upon ascending the throne was largely due to Imperial Noble Consort Dunsu. When the Crown Prince was still in swaddling clothes, he had been taken to the Nanyuan Grand Princess’s residence to be raised. How much the Grand Princess had doted on him then! Though the Emperor now had five princes, he especially valued this one, partly in remembrance of his legal mother.

“Everyone else can be forgotten, but you must remember her kindness!” This was what the wet nurse often said, though naturally she had to say it behind the Empress Dowager’s back. When the Crown Prince was two or three, he still spoke constantly of “Mama” and couldn’t forget her for a moment. But he was just a child after all—when someone suddenly exits from his life, with time the memories gradually fade. However, good and evil are destined from birth. His temperament resembled Mama’s—gentle and tolerant, not so calculating. Even after being raised by the Empress Dowager and Empress, he still retained his innocence and kindness, showing considerable traces of the former dynasty’s Grand Princess in his dealings with people.

The Crown Prince said: “I only have vague impressions of Mama. Nanny, don’t talk about other things—just tell me about Mama and Great-grandfather.”

The wet nurse squinted her eyes, tucking her hands away and sighing: “Those two… how to put it? What a pity they were. Your Mama was the best person in the world. She was kind and gentle to everyone, never looking down on us because of our humble status.” She gestured above her own head. “Your Mama was this tall—exceptionally outstanding among girls. She was fair-skinned, the same color as the cheese and milk skin you eat. She was born to wealth and nobility, with a heart of seven clever chambers. The smarter people are, the more they suffer—your Mama was proof of this. If her pride hadn’t been so high, she’d still be well now. If she were alive, wouldn’t your grandfather also be well? I’ve calculated—they’ve been gone seven years. If they were still alive, your Mama would be thirty, and Great-grandfather eight years older at thirty-eight—right in their prime…”

Dying young always brings sighs of regret. The Crown Prince lowered his head and sighed. “Imperial Grandmother mentioned to me that it was Mama who forcibly took Grandfather with her—if not for her, Grandfather wouldn’t have killed himself.”

The wet nurse felt uncomfortable hearing this, thinking that Empress Dowager was quite skilled at playing innocent. In all the world, if she claimed second place in this ability, no one would dare claim first. She should be thanking that woman instead—if Grand Princess Hede were alive, could she have reached her current position? As long as the legitimate princess consort drew breath, she would never have been able to rise in this lifetime.

Though reason was on her side, she didn’t have the courage to stir up that hornet’s nest, only saying: “If your Mama hadn’t left, Great-grandfather would be alive and ruling as emperor. If your Mama had given birth to a son…” She stopped herself and smiled. “So I say everyone has their destiny—many things are predetermined. Otherwise, why would a phoenix fly out from the phoenix tree in the southeast corner on the wedding day of the Empress and His Majesty? That phoenix was your mother—look, she’s become Empress now… Your Mama was truly good to your mother then, fearing she couldn’t adapt as a newcomer and not allowing rules to be imposed on the new bride…” Who knew she would end up with everyone pushing down the wall when it fell? Looking back, it was such a waste.

The wet nurse’s mouth corners drooped as she blinked twice. “When you grow up more and get stronger, you should also visit Imperial Noble Consort’s tomb to pay respects. People must live with humanity and not forget their roots. The great sun shines in the sky—don’t think that because fortune is strong, everything is permissible. Good and evil ultimately receive their due rewards. We must think of future peace of mind.”

The Crown Prince smiled slightly. “I’ll remember. When I can travel long distances, I’ll report to Imperial Father requesting permission to leave the capital and visit Mama at Mount Changrui.”

The wet nurse nodded. “Great-grandfather died for love, and many people blame your Mama. I must cry out for your Mama’s injustice—she was already pitiful enough. This matter can’t be blamed on her. When she died, she was only twenty-three, swallowing that little golden seal—how difficult that must have been! When someone is seeking their own death, how can they still care about others? Great-grandfather truly broke her heart. Initially the two were so harmonious—who could have predicted the sky would change so suddenly… During her funeral, you also went to the mansion to wear mourning. You were close to her and insisted on going to the coffin. Your Mama usually kept you by her side, but this time she ignored you. You anxiously called ‘Mama,’ making even Great-grandfather cry.”

Events from age two or three were now blurred, but hearing Nanny’s detailed account, it seemed like yesterday. He was also sad, asking dejectedly: “How did my grandfather pass?”

The wet nurse’s face clouded with worry. “They say he refused to eat or drink, forcibly tormenting himself to death. But exactly how it was, we’re just servants—we don’t know the inside story.”

The Prince of Nanyuan from over ten years ago had been such a dazzling existence! He achieved success at a young age and was well-proportioned in appearance. When he originally married the princess and they stood side by side, that compatibility to the very bone was truly enviable. Such are worldly affairs—flaws actually last longer. When things are too perfect, even Heaven can’t bear to watch. He was determined to conquer the world—as a man of spirit, competing for the Central Plains was naturally his ambition. But when love and ambition conflicted, he hesitated, trying to have both. He never expected the Grand Princess to be such a fierce person who wouldn’t give him a final chance. She didn’t need him to deliberate on salvation—she had already made her decision.

Beating his chest in regret, only after losing her did he understand—without her, even conquering the realm was empty. After all sails had passed, living alone and pale, it was better to depart together.

In the mourning hall, white curtains hung low, gradually yellowing from long exposure to smoke and fire… Wanwan had been gone nearly half a year.

Many people said keeping the coffin at home violated propriety. Even if the Emperor himself passed away, he would stay at Jingshan for two years before entering the imperial tomb—there was no precedent for long-term lying in state at Fengtian Hall. He paid no attention to such persuasions. Though she had died, he felt she was still wandering nearby. Under flowering trees, beside pavilions—everywhere had her shadow. As long as he kept watch for a long, long time, someday he would see her again.

Since that time he found the needlework box in her room, his heart had gained some comfort. He knew she loved him—otherwise, why would she make so many things for him? Tonghuan said the reason she never brought them out for him to wear was because Her Highness always felt they weren’t good enough. Sometimes she had no confidence at all, not knowing that even if she casually wound thread around, he would joyfully hang it at his waist.

It was just regrettable that when she was alive, there had been too little communication between husband and wife. He loved deeply and understood this himself, but hadn’t let her feel it. How confused and desperate her final period must have been—he dared not think about it. Now he always sat beside her coffin, staring blankly at the carved nanmu flowers before him. Those thick layers of boards cut off the connection between her and him. He pressed his face against it, reaching around to caress it as if she were beside him.

“I chose a beautiful place, backed by mountains facing the sea. We’ll make our home there. Your favorite Western Flowering Crabapple—I had them moved there. I went to look the other day, and the tomb chamber is almost finished. In another month, I’ll come find you. When I leave that day, can you come receive me? I’m afraid of being unfamiliar with the place and spending too much time inquiring… This separation, I can no longer bear.”

His wish was beautiful, thinking that death cancels all debts. Wanwan was soft-hearted—if he showed enough sincerity, she would surely forgive him. On her burial day, he forced his exhausted body to carefully arrange everything item by item. Finally sending the coffin into the underground palace, watching the tomb chamber’s great door slowly close, he felt like completing homework assigned by Father as a child—a great sense of relief.

“Go convey my words,” he told Rong Bao. “Tell them not to seal the tomb door completely, to avoid extra trouble if it needs to be opened again.”

Rong Bao was horrified. “Master, you’re thinking too far ahead. When Young Master conquers Beijing, he’ll inevitably rebuild the imperial mausoleum. Her Highness’s tomb will have to be moved north anyway.”

“Even so, don’t make it earth-shaking.” He glanced at the tomb passage. “She likes quiet—don’t startle her.”

Rong Bao was uneasy, and the Dowager Consort also sensed something amiss, insisting he return to the Prince’s mansion. He didn’t refuse, only saying: “There are still a few things to pack up. I’ll return after dealing with them.”

Lady Tala volunteered: “This servant will accompany Master…”

He looked at her with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile. “You have quite some nerve.”

Though he was alarmingly thin now, those eyes could still pierce through people’s facades. Lady Tala stammered and fearfully shrank back. The Dowager Consort frowned. “Liang Shi, how long do you intend to carry on?”

He said it would be soon. “Everything is past.”

Everyone believed him and let him return to Dashamo Alley. Once he entered the hanging flower gate, he latched it shut.

All the mansion’s people had scattered—the empty residence was deeply quiet and cold. Rooms long uncleaned were covered in dust everywhere. He walked over to the heated brick bed beneath the south window, bent down and blew gently. Dust flew up in a cloud, blurring his vision.

This was where she had passed away. He reached out to touch the cold brocade cushion. Once on different paths, hopefully they could return together.

With effort he climbed onto the footstool and rested at her final place. Turning to look outside, vegetation was withered in complete desolation. Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve—if she were still alive, she would be busy preparing for the New Year now. The entire Grand Princess’s mansion should be bustling with joy, not like this.

Missing one person changed everything. He leaned against her cushions as waves of cold came over him… Before, he hadn’t feared cold—he dared go out in midwinter wearing only a single garment. Now his spirit was scattered like a waste of a person, barely hanging onto a breath of life. Languishing here until completely spent would be the end.

His life had been full of military campaigns, but in the end what should have been grasped wasn’t grasped—he didn’t know what exactly he’d been busy with. His only achievement was marrying her, but causing her such deep harm, it was hard to say whether it was right or wrong. He was ultimately a selfish yet naive person. He hoped she could still forgive him, but unfortunately this came to nothing. She had never appeared anywhere beyond his memories. Even though he was about to die, she still avoided seeing him.

His heart had a hole torn in it, with howling cold wind passing straight through his body. Rolling up his sleeve to look, he didn’t know when the tooth marks on his wrist had grown fainter and fainter. Her last connection to him was gradually disappearing—he couldn’t retain it even if he tried. He pulled out a small bottle from his chest, accompanied by past sweetness, swallowing it down mouthful by mouthful, then began softly weeping: “Wanwan, where are you?”

Nothing could hurt more than losing her. He half-opened his dried eyes as his exhaled white mist went from thick to thin. Faintly he heard her “Journey to Gusu,” coming from very, very far away through thick darkness. He broke free from his body’s constraints and chased after it regardless of everything.

At the Homesickness Pavilion, beside the Three Lives Stone, there was no trace of her. He wailed across the rolling river, unable to find her… never able to find her again…

Someone passed by and stopped to look at him, watching for a while before leaving. Much later an old man came, just shaking his head at him. “The karmic connection is finished—why force it? You have an emperor’s destiny. Go reincarnate.”

He stubbornly refused. “I want nothing else, just to see her once more.”

“Just to see her once—is giving up so much worth it?”

He said it was worth it, with the determination to burn all bridges.

“Then try it. This is the only chance. If you can’t continue the marriage bond, never think of her again for all eternity.”

He went to find her, full of hope. Meeting her on a forest path, she appeared only eleven or twelve years old, carrying a basket on her back with lovely eyes and brows. Seeing him stumble, she quickly came to support him. “Are you alright, Grandfather?”

He trembled all over. In a puddle after rain, his reflection showed white hair—he had reached the age of knowing destiny. He was completely despairing, unable even to cry. How could this be? This was the so-called opportunity?

She was pure-hearted and kind, helping him sit on a roadside stone and giving him water from a bamboo tube. Afraid of frightening her, he dared not stare at her. Occasional glances cut his heart like knives. He still remembered that year when the emperor held a banquet—the little eunuch holding an umbrella for him at Xihua Gate had the same clever eyes and flower-like smile. At that time their ages were still compatible, but now? I was born before you were born; you were born when I was already old. What tremendous mockery—how could he explain past and present lives to her? It seemed their fate was truly finished—it couldn’t be forced.

He wanted to call her name but finally gave up.

“Thank you.” He smiled with difficulty. “The forest is so big—how does a young lady travel alone?”

She pointed ahead. “My home is just ahead. I went to that pond to pick lotus pods… Do you eat lotus pods? They’re very fresh.” She quickly put down her basket and selected two large ones, holding them in both hands to offer.

He took them with a pale face. His gaze lingered on her face as he carefully asked: “Are you living well… who do you have at home?”

Her happiness was embedded in the corners of her lips. Though she found this person a bit strange, she still answered politely: “I’m living very well. At home I have parents and two older brothers. Big brother is getting married tomorrow—I’ll have a new sister-in-law! I’m picking lotus pods to make lotus seed tea for entertaining relatives and friends tomorrow. Fresh lotus seeds are better than aged ones—fresh ones have a clear fragrance, while aged ones have lost their flavor. I’m afraid the guests won’t like them.”

He nodded sadly, watching her animated expression as helpless melancholy crept into his heart. A different life, far from overwhelming wealth, yet lived more carefree. Her peaceful years—he couldn’t bear to shatter them. He only gazed at her with lingering attachment, tinged with bitter sorrow.

She tilted her head to look at him, and because of the golden rings in his eyes, she studied him a bit more.

“Are you visiting relatives or friends? There are no houses that way. If you’re willing, come rest at my home—my parents are very hospitable.”

He shook his head. “I came to visit an old friend. Knowing she’s well is enough.”

She seemed to understand yet not understand. “Did you see her?”

He said: “I saw her.”

“Then why aren’t you happy?”

He held back tears, forcing his mouth corners upward with all his strength. “I originally wanted to take her away, but now it seems… inappropriate. She has her own life, better than being with me. Before, I always made her sad. Now that she’s forgotten me, I… shouldn’t harm her again. Don’t you think so?”

She blinked. Such a small person couldn’t understand such complex relationships. After a long moment she hummed in agreement. “Then you take care too.”

He stood up and returned the lotus pods to her. “Keep them to make tea at home. I should go.”

She held the lotus pods and watched him slowly walk east. Morning sunlight fell on his temples. Strange—this person seemed familiar somehow.

She couldn’t help calling out: “Will you come here again?”

He stopped and said no. “I’ll only come once in a lifetime. Where I’ll go afterward, I don’t know.”

Her heart was full of regret but couldn’t express it. She stood watching him depart, seeing him walk far away, drowning in golden light until gradually disappearing.

Calls came from the other side of the forest: “A’chuan… A’chuan…”

She withdrew her gaze and hurriedly responded—her brother had come to fetch her.

“What are you looking at?” Her brother took off her basket and carried it on his own shoulder.

She said it was nothing but couldn’t help looking back again. “I just met someone…”

Her brother asked who it was. She thought for a long time. “Someone a bit older, about as old as our grandfather. I feel like I know him, but can’t remember where I’ve seen him.”

Her brother was startled and frowned in reproach: “What nonsense are you talking! I’ve told you repeatedly not to come into the forest early in the morning, but you wouldn’t listen. See? You’ve encountered ghosts and spirits!” He took her hand and headed back. “Hurry home—Mother will worry if she finds out.”

She walked stumbling, still looking back as she went. When they emerged from the forest and saw cooking smoke rising leisurely from the houses, she put the strange encounter behind her, only thinking of her lotus seed tea and the new swing Father had made for her.