(Seven Years Later)
Once the Qinhuai rain started falling, it seemed endless. The sixth year of Yongji had just entered spring, yet the clouds suspended over Nanjing City had never dispersed. In earlier years, when people encountered such weather, they would certainly complain about spring rain being bothersome. But these past years, as life gradually improved, watching the rain connecting heaven and earth, they would instead sigh, “Spring rain is precious as oil—the longer it falls, the better!” How circumstances change with one’s state of mind was evident.
Life had indeed become wonderfully good.
In the third year of Jin’an, after the Huguang dikes were rebuilt, the Yangtze River’s peach blossom floods never occurred again. In the summer of the ninth year of Yongji, Minister of Finance Shen Xi and officials from the Ministry of Works personally went to Wuchang Prefecture to oversee reinforcing the river embankments. The repaired dikes could ensure decades without floods.
In the sixth year of Yongji, after the shocking military farm case was concluded, Left Chief Censor Su Jin jointly issued directives with the War Ministry, ordering local officials and soldiers to actively investigate themselves. A year later, grain harvested from military and civilian farms across regions nearly doubled. Frontier military provisions became abundant, with surplus filling the national treasury until it overflowed.
By the seventh year of Yongji, Chief Cabinet Minister Liu Chaoming received imperial orders to propose “moderate prosperity for the people, every family provided for and self-sufficient.” He ordered Left Chief Censor Su Jin to purge official administration and investigate court atmosphere; ordered Minister of Finance Shen Xi to open the national treasury and provide relief to vagrants and refugees; ordered Minister of Justice Qian Yueqian to revise legal codes and popularize law; ordered Minister of Rites Shu Wenlan to establish more academies and broadly spread education. Over five years, officials were honest and people virtuous, tax revenues abundant. In Suzhou Prefecture and Hangzhou Prefecture, people even left doors unlocked at night and didn’t pick up items dropped on roads.
In the tenth year of Yongji, Qi Wujiu again greatly defeated Japanese pirates in the East Sea. Following the imperial ships ashore all the way to Japanese territory, the Japanese king was terrified. Just entering autumn, he sent envoys to Great Sui to pay tribute and acknowledge vassalage to the Sui emperor. When this news spread from the East Sea, the entire maritime region erupted in shock. Over the following year, Japan, Korea, Ryukyu, and even Laos beyond Yunnan-Guizhou all successively sent envoys to pay tribute and acknowledge vassalage to Great Sui.
That was already the splendid situation of the eleventh year of Yongji.
But the splendor didn’t stop there. After the first spring rain of the twelfth year of Yongji, giant ships that had been under construction for three years finally set sail from Tianjin Harbor. The ships measured over forty zhang in length, over ten zhang in width, with draft depth exceeding two zhang. The nine masts on the ships could hoist twelve sails. When the sails unfurled, they resembled the kun from ancient texts, growing heaven-reaching wings that covered the sun and sky. The day the ships launched was like primordial beasts entering water, emitting earth-shaking roars as they crossed distant oceans to bring Great Sui’s might to the far west.
It was said that foreign merchants from Japan and Korea traveling to Tianjin Harbor, upon witnessing the sacred scene of these giant ships entering water, all knelt in worship without exception.
This ancient nation standing in the East, after experiencing the previous dynasty’s warfare, nationwide division, new dynasty establishment, and imperial power turbulence, finally rose again after a hundred years, ushering in a flourishing age of universal peace and all nations paying tribute. Even children’s songs by the roadside would sing a phrase about “Zhenguan governance restored.”
However, to achieve “Zhenguan governance restored,” the process was necessarily fraught with difficulties.
In the fifth year of Yongji, Chili and Northern Liang formed an alliance, integrating 1.2 million troops to invade. The following year, Zhu Yushen personally led the campaign to the northern frontier, joining with General Zuo Qian to resist the enemy from Liangzhou Guard and Qiongzhou Guard respectively. The military campaign was arduous, with victories and defeats on both sides. Unexpectedly, in the eighth year of Yongji, during the process of the Northwestern Army joining the Northern Expedition Army after the Battle of Wuyin Valley, they encountered hailstorm weather. Chili and Northern Liang seized the opportunity to attack fiercely. The Sui army suffered a great defeat with nearly two hundred thousand casualties. General Zuo Qian was even severely wounded. Fortunately, the Sui army didn’t lose heart. Led by an exceptionally talented general surnamed Nan who held the rank of battalion commander, they quickly counterattacked, recaptured the lost guard posts in one stroke, pursued northward, occupied three Northern Liang cities, and incorporated them into Great Sui territory.
Northern Liang and Chili were thus severely weakened. After continuing to battle for another two years, they finally couldn’t sustain it and submitted letters of surrender in the tenth year of Yongji, acknowledging vassalage to Great Sui.
Both Northern Liang and Chili were nomadic peoples containing nomadic tribes. Though the kingdoms acknowledged vassalage, the tribes might not. But Zhu Yushen didn’t care about this. After withdrawing troops, he ordered the battle-hardened Muyan Three Guards to station at the Tage Grasslands, then proclaimed throughout the realm—in the spring of the thirteenth year of Yongji, the capital would relocate.
With the realm settled, at the last night’s year-end banquet of the twelfth year of Yongji, officials gathered to celebrate the new spring in this Sui palace that would soon become the emperor’s old capital. But at that moment, Zhu Yushen casually asked, “Su Shiyu, have you thought about where to settle in the future?” This shocked all civil and military officials into silence.
This renowned capable minister, Cabinet Assistant Minister and Left Chief Censor, had actually retired on the eve of spring in the thirteenth year of Yongji.
Though Su Shiyu’s official career began inauspiciously, after the twenty-third year of Jingyuan, from when she entered the Imperial Censorate, she could be said to have risen smoothly. Among important ministers of this generation, aside from Liu Yun and Shen Qingyue, the first notable person would be Lord Su.
When news of Su Jin’s retirement spread, high officials in court all sighed. These years the court situation had been arduous and turbulent. She endured step by step. Now encountering good times, she was in the prime of life, yet she stopped being an official.
Officials originally thought His Majesty Yongji cherished talent and would certainly keep Su Jin at court. Who knew Zhu Yushen not only didn’t keep her, but those close to Lord Su like Shen and Liu also didn’t speak a word to persuade her to stay.
Why Lord Su retired thus became an intriguingly rich mystery.
Accompanied by the thirteenth year of Yongji’s continuous spring rain, court in the Sui palace had ceased. The first batch of ministers relocating to Beijing had already packed their luggage properly.
On the morning of departure, Shen Xi and Su Jin walked out from a tavern, heading all the way toward the southern city, laughing. “I thought you and I were busy with government affairs, exhausted from rushing about, that when the time came we couldn’t even have a drink together. Never expected there’d be taverns in Nanjing City that open this early.”
Su Jin also laughed. “I heard these taverns originally closed early too, but with this year’s capital relocation, the entire realm is experiencing farewells. Taverns and inns have hung lanterns to welcome guests all night long.”
As they spoke, walking down from the bridge, Zhai Di and Su Wan were already waiting below. Zhai Di came forward. “Lord Shen, the officials have already gathered outside Zhengyang Gate. This subordinate counted earlier—everyone has arrived. You can depart once you go over.”
Officials relocating from Nanjing to Beijing were divided into three batches. The first batch was led by Shen Xi, bringing key officials from various government offices to settle court affairs in Beijing first. The second batch was the imperial palanquin, imperial clan members, with the Six Ministries and Five Bureaus accompanying. After Zhu Yushen left, Liu Chaoming would stay an extra month to properly handle various important affairs of the remaining Nanjing capital before leading the last batch of officials to depart.
Therefore, Shen Xi departed in early spring, while Liu Yun’s departure would already be late spring.
Under the bridge, willows drooped. Spring breeze gently blew. Su Jin stopped walking and said to Shen Xi, “Alright, I’ll see you off to here. Otherwise, reaching Zhengyang Gate and seeing a crowd of high officials, there’ll be many more farewell ceremonies.”
Having spoken, she walked to the roadside, broke off a willow branch, and handed it to him.
When mounting a horse, don’t grasp the whip; instead break off a willow branch.
Seeing this willow branch, Zhai Di’s eyes dimmed. Su Wan even choked up. “Third Brother, will you truly not go to Beijing with us? Awan can’t bear to part with you.”
“No.” Su Jin smiled.
Half a lifetime for aspirations, achieving peace throughout the realm—she had been true to herself but failed him.
The rest of her life, she lived only for one person.
“What’s there to be unable to bear? Farewells throughout the realm are for the heartless. Truly caring people, wanting to meet again—one letter by wild goose, and they can meet at the ends of the earth.” Shen Xi turned the willow branch over in his fingers, smiled at Su Jin, then with a wave of his hand, tossed the farewell willow branch into the river water, completely unconcerned. “Going now. See you in a few years.”
Carriages rumbled on the road, heading north. After Shen Xi led the first batch of ministers relocating to Beijing away, the entire remaining capital seemed somewhat desolate, taking on a slightly aged air.
The rain still hadn’t stopped, falling from the first month straight through to the second month.
At the beginning of the second month, the imperial carriage should also depart.
On this day, the Tenth Prince Zhu Yiheng and the two princes from the palace accompanied Zhu Yushen walking out from Chengtian Gate, passing the moat, walking all the way toward Zhuque Street.
Imperial guards cleared the way on both sides. Inner attendants bowed, holding umbrellas for these noble imperial family members.
Crown Prince Zhu Xuan was compassionate. Seeing the inner attendant beside him completely soaked by rainwater, he took the umbrella and said, “You may withdraw.” Then to Zhu Yushen he said, “This son previously heard Mother Empress say Uncle lived his life yearning for freedom. When writing inscriptions on any young lady’s fan, he always wrote ‘Full sky of stars, yet people sleep.’ When Lord Su came to Father Emperor to retire, this son thought Uncle would leave court together with him. Unexpectedly, Uncle didn’t even mention the word ‘retire’ and was the first to go to Beijing.”
Second Prince Zhu Jin on the side said, “This son also feels puzzled. These years studying under Uncle, I intuitively felt he disliked court restrictions and was accustomed to freedom. But reaching today, I still don’t know what his freedom truly is.”
“Who knows?” Zhu Yiheng laughed. “But this prince has worked with Shen Qingyue so many years and deeply knows one thing—Shen Qingyue is someone who can never be underestimated.”
Back then when he was arrogantly proud, Zhu Zhaowei demoted him to the Court of Imperial Stud to tend horses. They thought he couldn’t bear the humiliation. Unexpectedly, he actually endured it, secretly transferring horses to help Zhu Nanxian seize the throne. Later when Emperor Jin’an died and the Shen-Su faction collapsed and scattered, they thought he would be as heartbroken and desperate as Su Shiyu, single-mindedly seeking death. Unexpectedly, after returning to the palace, in just one night he forcibly suppressed grief and anger, staying behind with a playful smile. Thinking he yearned for freedom all his life and loved ease, last winter after Su Jin came to retire before Zhu Yushen, Zhu Yushen said to Shen Xi, “I won’t force you to stay. You can also leave.” Who knew in the end, Shen Xi shook his head. “No. The realm is so vast—going anywhere isn’t the same? Too lazy to move. I’ll remain at court this lifetime.”
Zhu Xuan and Zhu Jin bowed together. “Tenth Uncle speaks truly.”
Zhu Yushen said, “This person Qingyue, I originally thought I saw clearly. Reaching today, I also can’t see clearly. Perhaps for him, the two characters for freedom have different interpretations.”
One interpretation: bodily freedom. Second interpretation: spiritual freedom.
Liu Yun and Su Shiyu had lofty aspirations and talents. But within Shen Qingyue’s cynically clever mind, remaining at court for life—did it also contain some aspirations for people’s livelihood, for the realm?
Forget it. Perhaps even he himself didn’t know.
Couldn’t see through, so wouldn’t pursue it further.
Everyone walked to outside Zhuque Street, coming before a stone monument five zhang tall and two zhang wide.
Zhu Xuan sighed. “This is the merit monument Lord Su impeached Third Uncle Zhu Jiyou at the end of the twenty-fourth year of Jingyuan and petitioned to establish for scholars and righteous gentlemen throughout the realm?” He laughed self-mockingly again. “Regrettably, this son lived in Nanjing for several years. If not accompanying Father Emperor on campaign, I stayed within the palace. Until today, this is the first time I’ve seen it.”
The merit monument stood quietly in the rain, imposing and solemn.
The Ministry of Works vice minister waiting here was extremely alert and stepped forward. “Reporting to Your Majesty, this subject heard Your Majesty would come with the Tenth Prince, Crown Prince, and Second Prince to see the merit monument. I thus sent craftsmen to carefully measure. Extracting the merit monument from its foundation would require two days. If Your Majesty wishes to relocate the merit monument to Beijing, this subject will order craftsmen to begin work today.”
Zhu Yushen said, “No need. Just leave it in Nanjing.”
Zhu Jin said, “Bringing such a large stone monument to Beijing would consume tremendous manpower along the way. Why doesn’t Father Emperor follow this method and also erect a monument in Beijing—” Thinking a moment, he smiled. “But not a merit monument for scholars and righteous gentlemen—a monument for meritorious officials.”
Zhu Xuan was stunned. “Monument for meritorious officials?”
“Yes.” Zhu Jin nodded. “Everyone says the current flourishing peace resembles ‘Zhenguan governance restored.’ But this flourishing age also cannot be separated from capable ministers governing the era. People say Father Emperor resembles Emperor Taizong of the Zhenguan era. Why not, like when Emperor Taizong of Tang built Lingyan Pavilion in Chang’an and carved the names of twenty-four meritorious officials?”
Zhu Xuan picked up the thread. “In ancient times, Tang Dynasty’s Taizong Lingyan Pavilion had twenty-four meritorious officials’ portraits—first listed Duke of Zhao Zhangsun Wuji, second listed Prince of Hejiang Li Xiaogong, third listed Duke of Lai Du Ruhui, fourth listed Duke of Zheng Wei Zheng, fifth listed Duke of Liang Fang Xuanling… Reaching Father Emperor’s meritorious officials registry, it should be first Cabinet Chief Minister Liu Chaoming, second Minister of Finance Shen Xi, third Left Chief Censor Su Shiyu.”
“No, imperial elder brother is biased.” Zhu Jin said. “This son believes, regarding political achievements, Lord Su actually could rank before Uncle.” Another sigh. “Pity Lord Su no longer wishes to be an official.”
Zhu Xuan also nodded regretfully. “Yes. Yesterday Jin’er and I went to the residence to bid farewell. We heard Lord Su say he has fully transferred Imperial Censorate affairs to Lord Liu. Tomorrow he will leave Nanjing City.”
After Su Jin retired, the Left Chief Censor position became vacant again. Officials originally thought Zhu Yushen would promote from junior censors. Who knew Zhu Yushen said, “Liu Yun, you served as censor for over ten years. For the Left Chief Censor position, I momentarily can’t think of a suitable person. You take it on for now.”
Made sense. This position was too important. Throughout court, aside from Liu Chaoming and Su Jin, no third person could be found.
Zhu Jin asked, “Father Emperor, will you emulate Tang’s Taizong, build Lingyan Pavilion, erect a monument for meritorious officials?”
Behind them, the merit monument stood in the rain. Before leaving, Zhu Yushen looked at it once more.
Flourishing Tang began from Zhenguan, ushering in a hundred years of splendor—universal peace, all nations paying tribute—to the point that when later generations mentioned flourishing ages, they always mentioned flourishing Tang, mentioned Zhenguan. But blood flowed like rivers at Xuanwu Gate. Li Shimin killed Li Yuan and Li Yuanji, executed Li Yuanji’s five sons. This was also recorded in historical annals and later people’s hearts along with this flourishing age.
When later generations mentioned flourishing Tang, speaking of unattainable prosperity, incomparable honor, in the end they also sighed about post-decline devastation, the filth behind imperial power. Mentioning Emperor Taizong of Zhenguan, calling him wise in governance, emperor of the ages, they also had to mention his cruelty in seizing the throne and killing his elder brother, his viciousness in slaughtering entire families of relatives.
But historical annals were historical annals. Within them, cause and effect—who could truly speak clearly?
Whether emulating or not, this flourishing age ultimately belonged to oneself, to the current myriad people.
As for rights and wrongs, merits and faults—leave them for later generations to evaluate.
The rain势 gradually stopped. Zhu Yushen looked at the merit monument, noncommittal. “We’ll see.”
The rainwater had truly become much finer.
Su Jin waited in the Imperial Censorate, watching rain sliding down from the eaves, calculating the hour in her mind.
A censor standing nearby changed her tea for the third time. “Lord Su, Lord Liu likely won’t be able to return today.”
With the imperial carriage relocating imminent, two days ago while the Court of Imperial Stud minister was organizing luggage, he dug up a box of gold in the back courtyard. When the Imperial Censorate learned of this, the Court of Imperial Stud minister fled overnight and was captured at his residence in Baiping County. The Court of Imperial Stud minister held fourth rank—this matter was significant. Liu Chaoming left the capital today precisely for this case.
Actually, Liu Yun’s formal assumption of Left Chief Censor should happen after relocating to Beijing. Still being in Nanjing now, this matter should be handled by Su Jin. But Su Jin was supposed to leave tomorrow. If Liu Yun didn’t handle this matter, Su Jin couldn’t leave.
Yet Su Jin ultimately belonged to Jin’an’s old faction, entangled too deeply with Zhu Nanxian. Having already retired, staying in Nanjing even one extra day was improper.
Su Jin looked at the rain outside the window, thought a moment. “I’ll wait a bit longer.”
Wanting to bid him farewell personally.
Soon twilight rose on all sides. The rain had stopped. Brilliant sunset clouds at the horizon’s edge framed all things in heaven and earth with dark gold.
Luggage was already packed. Half the former Su residence servants had dispersed, half followed Zhai Di to Beijing. Su Jin only kept Tan Zhaolin and Tan Shi by her side.
The rain stopped then fell again. Deep in the night it pattered, interspersed with sounds of watch drums.
Su Jin ultimately couldn’t wait for Liu Chaoming.
Thinking about it made sense. From the palace to Baiping County required at least three days round trip. This was only just over one day. With Liu Yun’s character of always putting official duties first, how could he turn back midway?
She made do resting one night at the Imperial Censorate. The next morning, holding an umbrella and walking outside the palace, reaching Chengtian Gate, she unexpectedly heard a horse neigh. Su Jin looked up—it was actually An’ran.
An’ran dismounted, bowing to Su Jin through the rain. “Lord Su, on the road to Baiping County, Lord Liu thought he might not return in time to see Lord Su off. He specially left a letter and had An’ran deliver it to Lord Su.”
The letter paper was white. On it were only four short characters: As if meeting in person upon reading.
Seeing this, Su Jin laughed.
Yes, as if meeting in person upon reading—what need for farewell ceremonies?
These years she and he were together at court, single-mindedly guarding their aspirations, seeing each other daily, constantly. They had argued, formed alliances, stood together against dissenting voices and strenuously contended with all civil and military officials. Reaching today, what difference did one extra meeting or not meeting make?
As Qingyue said, if truly caring people, even at the ends of the earth they could share this moment.
An’ran’s gaze fell on Su Jin’s umbrella. Seeing the character “Yun” carved on the umbrella handle, he was stunned. “Lord Su is actually using it.”
Su Jin said, “Yes, I started using it some years ago.”
Umbrellas were originally meant to shield from rain. Even the most precious umbrella should be thus.
Su Jin, holding the umbrella, returned to Su residence. The sky had already cleared. Tan Zhaolin and Tan Shi were waiting on the carriage. Their journey was heading to the northwest, stopping along the way at a postal station outside Yuzhou City for over a month.
Since last year’s spring when Zhu Yushen proclaimed to the realm about relocating the capital, Su Jin no longer exchanged letters with Zhu Nanxian. The emperor’s heart was deep as the sea. Even though Zhu Yushen had previously made promises to Qi Boyuan, Su Jin dared not easily trust that he would definitely spare Zhu Nanxian’s life.
She didn’t want Zhu Nanxian to expose his whereabouts because of her. She only wished he could be safe.
Waiting over a month at the postal station outside Yuzhou City was based on what Zuo Qian had told her in a letter—hostilities had ceased, the first batch of northwestern soldiers were returning home. Those who once served under Zhu Nanxian’s command would first go to Yuzhou to report.
The postal station outside Yuzhou City appeared lonely in the vast unpopulated wilderness. Only an old tree beside the station bloomed a full canopy of flowers in this late spring when all things flourished.
The old tree was gnarled and twisted, yet its flower colors were gorgeous. Every day Su Jin waited under the tree from sunrise to sunset, watching those women and children waiting for return like her one by one welcoming their own relatives. She was also happy for them.
Su Jin actually wasn’t anxious. In any case, aside from him, the latter half of her life had no other attachments. Heaven was far, earth was far—she would ultimately be together with him.
After late spring’s last rain, full summer arrived.
Su Jin returned to the postal station, packed her luggage, planning to depart the next day. If she couldn’t wait for Zhu Nanxian here, then she’d cross mountains and waters to go to the extremely hot and cold northwest. In any case, many years ago she had already planned to go to the northwest to see the places where he once commanded troops.
Outside the window, moonlight was pleasant. The season of entering summer was accompanied by waves of bothersome insect chirping.
Su Jin was absorbed watching the moon. Inadvertently, she actually heard wing-flapping sounds—like a bird fluttering its wings across the night sky.
The next moment, a familiar call came. “Ayu, Ayu—”
Hearing this sound, Su Jin froze. She immediately pushed open the door, following the sound and chasing outside the postal station.
The wilderness was boundless. Under hazy moonlight, a bird covered in white feathers circled in the night sky.
Su Jin looked at it, calling, “A’Fu—” Then extended her arm.
A’Fu emitted a high-pitched cry, folded its wings, obediently perching on her arm. Its glossy black eyes turned, ingratiatingly imitating speech. “Ayu, Ayu—”
“It truly has no ambition. Following me so many years, aside from ‘Ayu,’ it hasn’t learned a single new word. It’s probably almost forgotten how to pronounce ‘Thirteenth Prince.'”
A low voice came. Su Jin looked up to see a tall figure seemingly walking through night colors—brows like swords, eyes like stars. Even in the night, those eyes were bright enough to reflect mountains, rivers, sun and moon.
Zhu Nanxian came before Su Jin. “I worried Zhu Yushen set an ambush. After leaving the northwest, I detoured through Qingzhou. I waited until this batch of returning soldiers went home before coming. I made you wait long.”
Su Jin shook her head, softly responding, “No harm. It’s good you’ve returned.”
Her face was clear and luminous under moonlight. Half a lifetime of loneliness, yet time treated her kindly, leaving no trace on her face. When her eyes trembled, like butterflies spreading wings, they tugged at heartstrings.
Zhu Nanxian glanced at A’Fu still perching on Su Jin’s shoulder, wanting to nuzzle her with its little head. His eyes darkened. “A’Fu, move aside.”
A’Fu ignored him, only caring to call, “Ayu, Ayu—”
Zhu Nanxian’s hand gripped the sword handle, slightly drawing it. The ringing sound of the blade leaving its sheath startled A’Fu into spreading wings and flying up. The next moment, Zhu Nanxian reached forward and embraced, pulling Su Jin into his arms.
The bird deprived of its perch wanted to follow Zhu Nanxian flying into the room. Who knew before flying in, the wooden door before it creaked shut, blocking it outside.
A’Fu finally got angry. Perching on the eaves, facing the moonlight, it cursed using new words frontier soldiers had secretly taught it these years. “Shameless, shameless—”
The season just entering summer still had some slight chill. Only the rainwater decreased day by day. If rain fell momentarily, it would be accompanied by thunder—coming hastily, going hastily. Afterward would be exceptionally intense sunlight, illuminating all things in flourishing growth.
Zhu Nanxian and Su Jin stayed at the postal station an extra day. Bidding farewell to Tan Zhaolin and Tan Shi who had followed Su Jin these years, they headed south.
Carriages rumbled. They traveled neither fast nor slow. In any case, no need to rush hours.
Su Jin was too exhausted. She slept in the carriage for a while, then remembered she didn’t even know where they were going. So she lifted the carriage curtain to ask, “Are we going wherever we go, or do we have a destination?”
Zhu Nanxian turned his head to glance at her. “First to Shu. I want to go before your grandfather’s grave to ask his permission to marry you, then properly hold a wedding ceremony.”
Hearing these words, Su Jin was momentarily silent.
After a while, she said, “Could we not hold a wedding ceremony?”
She seemed hesitant to speak. Pausing a moment, she couldn’t help saying again, “Moreover, all these years every time ‘wedding’ was mentioned, we encountered a separation and great difficulty. Perhaps I’m incompatible with these two characters.”
Zhu Nanxian was stunned. After a moment, he laughed loudly. “Good. Then we’ll never mention these two characters again. In the future, you and I will constantly accompany each other to old age. We don’t care about such worldly ceremonies.”
They drove the carriage traveling on roads, not even knowing which city in the realm they had mistakenly entered. The city scenery actually resembled Jiangnan.
There was flowing water like the Qinhuai River. Painted boats on the river, drooping willows on the banks. Under willow trees, young gentlemen set up stalls selling paintings.
Su Jin looked at that gentleman selling paintings, recalling the year she first arrived at Yingtian Prefecture, accidentally knocking over Chao Qing’s ink and brush stall, making him chase her all the way to the examination compound.
Passing high-gated deep mansions in the city, iron wind chimes suspended under upturned eaves, desolate courtyards with gates opening across alleys. Looking over, narrow gates and high thresholds, layer upon layer of deep courtyards.
Twilight snow and cold weather, Sui palace depths. She and Shen Xi sat on such palace thresholds. Young Master Shen fell backward, pillowing on snow to lie down, lifting his folding fan to point at the night sky, saying he’d set up a fortune-telling stall that could determine life and death, divine fortune and misfortune. In that carefree manner, his dashing elegance startled hearts.
The city also had a bridge, mottled and ancient. Stone balustrades already grew layers of moss. This was clearly also a rainy city.
Su Jin looked at this stone bridge, suddenly missing the Qinhuai mist and rain.
With one phrase “as if meeting in person upon reading,” she ultimately couldn’t wait for Liu Chaoming.
But she remembered the last time she saw him before leaving Nanjing.
Late spring of the thirteenth year of Yongji. Wind and rain connecting heaven.
She went to the Court of Judicial Review to close cases. He dismounted from his sedan at Zhuque Bridge one step ahead of her. Rain threads fell abundantly. He looked through rain. She also gazed through rain.
Worldly mist and rain were vast. They finally saw clearly the blazing fire at the bottom of each other’s eyes.
Blazing fire could burn across a thousand li, could transmit through past and present, could burn throughout this splendid realm, burning out an era of flourishing prosperity.
Only, Su Shiyu who later left court thought: rain meeting light stops; fire encountering water ultimately extinguishes.
How many years does a realm last? A hundred years of brocade prosperity also passes like a white colt through a gap.
Historical annals were like a long river. Everyone’s past life falling into it, dissolving together with these vast waves—then couldn’t be found anywhere. If truly wanting to leave something in the heart, then speak of that one year.
That year, the Qinhuai was still misty rain. New policies were being implemented. Fighting continued in the northwest and northern frontier.
In deep spring twilight, Shen Xi stole leisure amid busyness, digging up a jar of apricot blossom wine from under trees, sitting at a stone table to pour himself a cup.
Rain fell abundantly. Su Jin hurriedly collected books drying in the afternoon from the courtyard, returning to the room to pour a cup of clear water.
Liu Chaoming stood under eaves holding an umbrella, raising his eyes to look at this sky full of rain threads, casually accepting a cup of hot tea a servant handed over.
Zhu Nanxian stood in northwestern wind and sand, gazing toward the distant horizon, the wind-rising old capital, raising hand to lift cup.
And words telling of a lifetime—were drunk in this water and wine.
(The End)