After Ming Huashang and Li Huazhang finished touring the prince’s residence, it was nearly time for the midday meal. Lunch, as usual, was prepared to Ming Huashang’s tastes. With the warm spring breeze and a full belly, Ming Huashang found herself feeling drowsy. Li Huazhang knew she had not slept well the night before, and gently urged her: “If you’re tired, go take a nap. There’s no need to force yourself.”
Ming Huashang thought about how this was her first day after the wedding — sleeping in lazily during the day right after just getting married didn’t seem quite right. She hesitated: “But I haven’t done anything yet. I haven’t even met everyone in the residence…”
“The only thing you need to do is be yourself.” Li Huazhang said warmly. “I’ll be with you.”
With those words from Li Huazhang, Ming Huashang set aside all her reservations, let down her hair, and went to the inner chamber to sleep. The bed was far more comfortable than the wedding canopy tent had been. Ming Huashang lay down on the soft mattress and drifted off to sleep almost instantly.
It was a deeply restful sleep. Ming Huashang felt as though she were sinking into clouds, her body and mind entirely at ease. When she woke, the window was bathed in a dark, blue-grey light. The room was dim and hazy, like an aged painting. He sat within the drifting mist of dusk, the lines of his profile cool and clear, one hand holding a book while the other threaded through her hair, slowly massaging her scalp.
Ming Huashang had just woken and didn’t feel like moving. She lay on her side and quietly watched him. His gaze rested on the pages of the book — sharp, sword-like brows, starlit eyes, a face like fine jade — his expression earnest, exactly the picture of “someone else’s perfectly accomplished child” that the neighbors always talked about.
Ming Huashang had long grown accustomed to having such an outstanding older brother. What she couldn’t do, he could. What she couldn’t learn, he could. She was used to admiring him, looking up to him, and rationalizing all his achievements as a matter of course. But today, looking at him as an equal, Ming Huashang suddenly noticed that his eyes could show red veins too, and that when he came to something he didn’t understand, he would furrow his brows for a long while in thought.
Ming Huashang suddenly reached out and lightly pressed her fingers against his temple. Li Huazhang was startled, and only then realized she had already woken up. He set down his book and asked: “Did I wake you?”
“No.” Lying down like this made it hard to exert any real force, so Ming Huashang simply sat up and draped herself over him to rub his temples. “It’s gotten so dark — why haven’t you lit a lamp?”
Li Huazhang instinctively moved to pull away, but then he reminded himself that Ming Huashang was not just his younger sister — from this day on, she was also his wife. He forcibly held himself still. Then warmth and softness pressed into his arms. He paused, reached out to steady her at the waist, and tried to let himself grow accustomed to physical closeness.
Ming Huashang rubbed his temples for a while, then asked: “Are your eyes feeling better?”
Li Huazhang nodded, though truthfully he couldn’t feel anything in particular about his eyes — given the situation, how could he spare any attention for his eyes? Li Huazhang, by habit, maintained his composed, cool, and gentlemanly bearing. Seeing him so proper, Ming Huashang felt somewhat self-conscious about continuing to drape herself over him. She quietly withdrew her hands and went to look at what book could possibly be so captivating that he was reluctant to put it down.
Beside the couch lay a booklet, its pages dense with text. Ming Huashang picked it up and flipped through it, then asked: “What is this?”
“The Guanglu Court’s accounts ledger from last month.” The warmth and fragrance that had been nestled in his arms suddenly departed, and Li Huazhang was struck by a quiet sense of loss — but he couldn’t bring himself to pull her back, so he replied absentmindedly: “To hold a position is to fulfill its duties. Since I am now the Director of the Guanglu Court, I should naturally familiarize myself with its financial flows.”
The Guanglu Court oversaw food and provisions — everything from the food used in the imperial court’s grand sacrificial rites and the state banquets held when the Emperor entertained civil and military officials and foreign envoys, down to the daily meals, seasonal fruits, wines, and condiments for each member of the imperial family. These matters seemed inconsequential at a glance, but with so many mouths to feed in the palace, the daily consumption of salt and rice alone was considerable. All of this needed to be procured, prepared, and cooked by the Guanglu Court and then delivered to every palace quarter. The Guanglu Court’s account ledgers were most certainly no small matter.
Ming Huashang bent her head and read the ledger. Seeing her looking at it so attentively, Li Huazhang rose to light the lamp nearby. Ming Huashang felt the sudden flood of light and silently sighed to herself.
Though he said nothing, she understood: earlier he had rather strain his eyes until they reddened than light the lamp, for fear of waking her. He could have taken the book elsewhere to read, but he had kept his promise and stayed by her side, not moving an inch.
Her second older brother was still the same — he seemed cold and aloof, so high and untouchable, yet in truth his consideration was meticulous as silk thread. When he was good to someone, it was like a warm spring breeze dissolving ice — quiet and unheralded — doing much, yet never making any show of it.
A person of such a character was easily taken advantage of. Wasn’t that exactly why the Emperor and Empress Wei, counting on Li Huazhang’s being a man of integrity, had felt no qualms about burning bridges and discarding him? Ming Huashang felt all the more tenderness for him, and said with indignation: “Assigning someone like you to oversee these things is a complete waste of talent.”
There were only the two of them in the room now, no need to fear being overheard by others. Though these words carried some personal feeling, they were not an exaggeration. Li Huazhang had once served as the Vice Prefect of the Chang’an Prefecture, and had governed the vast capital with impeccable order, clearing through years of accumulated and wrongly-decided cases. Such a talent for domestic administration, now reduced to serving as the imperial family’s head chef — how could that not be a waste?
Li Huazhang neither agreed nor disagreed. He sat on the edge of the couch, smoothed Ming Huashang’s hair, and said slowly: “There are no insignificant posts, only insignificant attitudes. Moreover, the Director of the Guanglu Court is one of the Nine Ministers — it is by no means an inconsequential position. When I was in the Chang’an Prefecture, I could only see the grand affairs — it seemed only criminal cases and city defense were worth my concern. Now that I’ve come to the Guanglu Court, I’ve come to know the daily price of grain, and how much the harvest those fruit farmers outside the city lose because of the popular snow-viewing banquets the wealthy host inside. The sages said a gentleman should keep his distance from the kitchen, but in truth, food and provisions are the greatest of all matters. People take food as their heaven. By examining the consumption of grain and provisions, one comes to understand the true condition of the people’s livelihood.”
Ming Huashang let out a soft hum and tapped him on the shoulder with the ledger: “His Highness Prince Yong cherishes the people and grasps the greater picture — the way you put it, I’m the unreasonable one now?”
Li Huazhang smiled and caught the ledger. Ming Huashang hadn’t used any force to begin with, and with one light tug from Li Huazhang, she was pulled into his arms. Seeing him “repay kindness with treachery,” Ming Huashang reached out to tickle him. Li Huazhang could only grab the book back from her hands, toss it onto the footrest, and give his full attention to catching her hands.
In the midst of laughter and playful struggling, without noticing when, the two of them tumbled onto the couch. Li Huazhang half propped himself above her, and looked down at her — her delicate face and shapely brows, her complexion like the first blush of spring dawn, skin white as snow, lips red, long hair cascading over her shoulders — and suddenly went still. Ming Huashang seemed to sense something too, and averted her eyes with a too-obvious attempt at nonchalance, as the back of her neck quietly turned red.
Li Huazhang leaned down and kissed her neck. His voice, without his realizing, had gone husky: “Would you like something to eat?”
Ming Huashang mumbled for a moment, then said honestly: “Well, yes, I suppose I would.”
“Then let’s go.” Li Huazhang slipped one arm beneath her waist and another under her knees, and lifted her effortlessly into his arms. “I’ll have them bring it in.”
·
The twelfth day of the fourth month. Duke Zhenguo’s Residence.
Ming Yuji pushed the abacus beads and checked the figures in the account ledgers one by one. Since the Duke Zhenguo’s Residence had fallen from favor, all manner of unsavory characters had crawled out of the woodwork. The Duke Zhenguo’s Residence owned several shops in Chang’an, and once those people learned that Duke Zhenguo had lost favor with the new Emperor and had no son, making his recovery impossible, all kinds of schemes began to emerge without end. Not only were rivals maliciously sabotaging the Ming family’s business, but even the managers and shop assistants had colluded together, attempting to fabricate pretexts and line their own pockets.
Duke Zhenguo had long foreseen all of this. In his own words: he had lived through three reigns — Emperor Gaozong, Empress Zetian, and Li Xian — and witnessed countless aristocratic families swept up in treasonous scandals and purged by ruthless officials. As the close confidant of Crown Prince Zhanghuai, he had somehow escaped each great storm with nothing worse than a fright. Now, with the younger generation proving itself and the family safe, and both daughters by his side — it was already the blessing of heaven. To reach further for worldly things would be to fail to know one’s blessings.
Duke Zhenguo could accept all of this with equanimity, but Ming Yuji could not swallow the indignity. She was furious at the way outsiders looked down on them — yet it was an undeniable fact that Duke Zhenguo had no son, and it was also a fact that Prince Yong was regarded with suspicion by the palace. Unable to influence the power struggles at court, Ming Yuji picked up the account ledgers and went through them cent by cent with the estate managers, refusing to let anyone swindle the Duke Zhenguo’s Residence out of a single coin.
Duke Zhenguo may have had no sons, but that did not mean the Ming family was easy to bully.
Ming Yuji was so absorbed in tallying accounts that she lost track of time. Outside, a maidservant’s voice suddenly rang out in announcement. Ming Yuji started, and only then remembered that today was the day Ming Huashang was returning for her post-wedding visit.
Ming Yuji hurried to the main hall. Before she had even stepped through the door, she could already hear the rapid, cheerful chatter from within: “Today we passed through the Eastern Market and found that loquats and purple pears were cheaper than usual, so we quickly bought a basketful of each. And there were green plums — specially transplanted from Jingqing Lane in the Eastern Capital — I had a taste and they’re the same flavor as Luoyang’s. We were lucky to have arrived early enough to buy some…”
Duke Zhenguo sounded quite helpless: “I thought now that you’re married you’d be more mature. How is it that all you think about is food?”
“I bought fruit out of kindness and you scold me for it. Fine, don’t eat it then.”
Duke Zhenguo’s mustache bristled with exasperation. Then a man’s voice, smooth and gentle, spoke up: “It was I who wished to visit the Eastern Market to survey grain and fruit prices, and Huashang came along with me. She spotted these fresh fruits and, thinking of the Duke and the eldest young lady, went to the trouble of bringing them back. It is a mark of her filial devotion, and you have misjudged her, Duke.”
Out of respect for Li Huazhang’s face, Duke Zhenguo humphed and dropped the matter with that unfilial daughter. Ming Huashang and Duke Zhenguo could rarely find common ground in conversation. Spotting the hem of a skirt by the doorway, she quickly called out: “Sister, you’re here! Come look — are these green plums the same as the ones from the Eastern Capital?”
Ming Yuji lifted her skirts and entered, before she could say a word, something was pressed into her hand — a plum, its surface still glistening with moisture that hadn’t even dried. Ming Huashang watched her expectantly, so Ming Yuji had no choice but to raise it to her lips and take a small bite.
Ming Huashang asked eagerly: “Is it good?”
Ming Yuji nodded. Ming Huashang immediately said happily: “I knew it was good! Clearly he just doesn’t know quality when he sees it. Sister, look — these are loquats. We can make loquat syrup another day. These are cherries sent from the imperial gardens, there’s still a whole basket left and I brought them all along. And there are purple pears — later we can steam them with cream and sugar…”
They say a daughter who marries is like water poured out — once a woman weds, returning to her parents’ home is merely a visit as a guest. But Ming Huashang had absolutely no sense of being a guest. She chatted with lively enthusiasm about what to eat with everything, as though she had merely stepped out on an errand and happened to bring back some fruit the household had been missing.
A maidservant said flatteringly: “The second young lady is so filial — even now that she’s married, she still thinks of home.”
Ming Huashang replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: “This is my own home — if I don’t think of it, who will? Take the loquats down and start peeling them. If we don’t start now, we won’t finish before nightfall.”
Ming Yuji heard this and said: “You heard her — this isn’t filial devotion to her family at all. She simply wants to eat loquat syrup herself but is too lazy to make it, so she came back to boss me around.”
Ming Huashang immediately cried out in protest: “That is not true! Leave the loquats with me. I’ll peel them myself. I won’t stop until every last one is peeled, and I won’t eat dinner until they’re all done. I’ll go on a hunger strike to prove my innocence!”
Li Huazhang couldn’t quite understand how a simple return visit had ended up at the point of a hunger strike. He sighed and said: “Don’t say such things carelessly. You mustn’t joke about matters like that.”
Ming Huashang had only meant it in jest, but after Li Huazhang said that, she immediately had the maidservants leave the loquats behind and insisted on peeling them herself to prove her sincerity. The maidservants looked uncertainly toward Ming Yuji. Ming Yuji waved her hand and said: “Leave them. Let Princess Yong take her time peeling. Don’t let her miss dinner over it.”
The maidservants couldn’t help but laugh. Li Huazhang sat a short distance away, entirely at a loss. Warm laughter filled the main hall, and all traces of earlier formality were swept clean away. The attendants’ nerves relaxed, and it felt as though there were no Prince Yong or Princess Yong in the room — only Second Young Master and Second Young Lady.
Ming Huashang rolled up her sleeves and truly set about peeling loquat skin, with not the slightest awareness that she was now the imperial family’s daughter-in-law, and that returning to her parents’ home made her an honored guest who should not be doing manual work. Li Huazhang glanced at the full, heaping basket and said nothing — but his hands picked up a loquat and quietly set to peeling and coring it, placing the finished pieces beside Ming Huashang.
The main hall was suffused with the clean, fresh fragrance of loquats. Duke Zhenguo watched Li Huazhang’s movements but said nothing, and instead asked: “Eldest young lady, how are the midday preparations coming along?”
“Everything was arranged long ago. The other dishes are being kept warm on the stove. Only the roasted venison still needs to be turned — it will be ready in no more than a quarter of an hour. Shall I have the meal set out now?”
Duke Zhenguo said: “Have the kitchen prepare it. We’ll eat in the Prolonged-Longevity Hall.”
Ming Yuji paused and showed a flash of displeasure. Duke Zhenguo held firm: “Today is the day Second Young Lady returns for her post-wedding visit. No matter what, we cannot fail to observe propriety toward our elders. Go and pay your respects to your grandmother.”
Although the Duke Zhenguo’s Residence had been divided, Duke Zhenguo was the one who had inherited the family line and was accordingly obligated to provide for his mother, so the Old Madam of the Ming family still lived within the residence. However, providing for a parent and honoring them were one way of doing it — while providing for them without honoring them was quite another. Now that Ming Yuji was managing the household, she had absolutely no affection for this blood-related grandmother. She had servants ensure the old woman wanted for nothing in terms of food and clothing, but that was the extent of it. Morning and evening greetings and daily attendance were not to be expected; Ming Yuji simply treated this person in the Duke Zhenguo’s Residence as though she didn’t exist.
Today, with Ming Huashang returning for her visit, failing to see the grandmother would invite accusations of being unfilial. Reluctantly and unwillingly, Ming Yuji agreed and, for once, made her way to the Prolonged-Longevity Hall.
When the Old Madam heard through a maidservant’s report that Prince Yong and Princess Yong were coming, her spirits lifted considerably. She hurriedly had the maidservants prepare tea and pastries, yet waited so long that the hot water in the teapot had to be changed before the party from the main branch finally arrived, tardily, at last.
In former times, if the Old Madam had been so disregarded, she would certainly have made a scene. But times had changed. Duke Zhenguo, now dim of eye and deaf of ear, had completely relinquished his grip on household affairs and let that village woman who had come back out of nowhere control the entire residence.
The Old Madam had once wielded her grandmotherly authority and arranged for her own people to be placed in the household, but that woman was impervious to both soft and hard approaches. When pushed too far, she would talk back directly to the Old Madam’s face, making the Old Madam so furious her chest ached. Yet Duke Zhenguo seemed to have gone deaf — no matter how many times the Old Madam expressed her grievances, he never seemed to hear. With no other recourse, she could only bow her head under this roof and accept the reality that she depended on a granddaughter for her daily livelihood.
Ming Huashang and Ming Yuji paid their respects to their grandmother according to propriety, and then had nothing further to say, sitting silently to one side drinking tea. Li Huazhang was more respectful in his manner, patiently answering the Old Madam’s questions.
The Old Madam had grown accustomed to her marginalized existence, but today, with Prince Yong present, she roused herself again. She had no closeness with Ming Huashang and had never even met Ming Yuji before, but Prince Yong was her grandson, raised by her own careful hand — surely he would take her side!
The Old Madam put on the manner of an elder and questioned Li Huazhang about his daily life, his household arrangements, and his staff. Li Huazhang’s expression remained calm as a still lake, his tone warm and refined. He appeared to answer every question, yet thinking back carefully, it seemed he hadn’t actually said anything.
The Old Madam circled around for a long time but could not bring out a single thing she actually wanted to say. It was strange, really — every time she was about to reach her intended point, the topic would be deflected. Not yet satisfied with the progress, and just as she was about to press on, a maidservant came to report that the meal was laid out.
The Old Madam’s expression darkened, and she was about to scold the servants by habit — couldn’t they see she was in the middle of talking with Prince Yong? But Ming Huashang had already stood up and interrupted with a look of perfect innocence: “Father, the meal is ready. The venison will taste bad once it’s cold. Let’s go and eat.”
Ming Yuji rose alongside her and said plainly: “Set out the bowls and chopsticks, cut the venison. We’ll be right there.”
“Don’t forget the steamed pears!”
Before the Old Madam could even get a word in, the focus of the entire room had been carried off by the Ming sisters. The two of them talked as they walked out, and Duke Zhenguo, Li Huazhang, maidservants, and matrons all followed along in their wake and poured out the door.
The Old Madam was left behind, unattended, as though forgotten by the world. She stewed in irritation for a moment, then realized that no one would cater to her mood anymore, and could only swallow her resentment and follow them out to eat.
That meal was eaten in complete silence — a perfectly observed embodiment of the rule that one does not speak at table nor in bed. Ming Huashang finally finished going through the motions and let out a long, silent sigh of relief inside. She wiped her hands and said: “I suddenly remember there are some important matters I haven’t finished arranging. I’ll be going ahead.”
Ming Yuji, seeing this, followed along: “I’ll see you out.”
The two of them made their bows to the Old Madam and, without waiting to see her reaction, turned and took their leave. Once outside, Ming Yuji asked: “What important matters haven’t you finished arranging?”
Ming Huashang wore an expression of utmost gravity: “Peeling the loquats.”
There were no outsiders in the covered walkway, and the two of them could talk freely. Ming Yuji choked for a moment, then said in exasperation: “You peel far too slowly. Just send them to the kitchen. If we start cooking the loquat syrup now, it can still be ready before evening.”
“There’s no rush.” Ming Huashang said, as if it were perfectly natural. “If it isn’t ready in time, we’ll just stay the night and leave tomorrow. What’s the hurry?”
Ming Yuji instinctively felt this was improper: “Still, you are a married woman now. Staying overnight outside right after just getting married — it won’t look right if outsiders hear of it.”
“It’s fine,” said Ming Huashang. “I’m merely married — it’s not as though I’ve been struck from the Ming family register. I’d be sleeping in my own home. Why should I be afraid of what people say? Besides, whatever we do now will be suspected by the palace, so that means everything is equally permissible.”
Ming Yuji turned it over in her mind and realized she was right. Given the relationship between Li Huazhang and the Duke Zhenguo’s Residence, they would be regarded with suspicion even if they had no dealings with each other at all — so what was there to be cautious about? Ming Yuji decided the question had been unnecessary, but still asked: “Is he good to you?”
Ming Huashang nodded, and a smile crept unbidden onto her face: “Some people say that marriage is about finding a man to entrust your life to, but I think marriage is about choosing a life that makes you happy. Being with him is the life I want.”
Ming Yuji listened and stared for a moment, then thought it over and laughed. Indeed — Ming Huashang had always been very clear about what she wanted. How could she ever put her hopes for the rest of her life on whether a man treated her well?
Ming Yuji knew that most things no longer needed to be said. If Ming Huashang had wanted a quiet, peaceful life, she would never have gone against all propriety and married her older brother to begin with. Having chosen Li Huazhang, she had already prepared herself to face every storm along this path — the Emperor’s suspicion, the schemes and open and covert struggles.
She was like a dandelion seed — seemingly fragile and harmless, easily scattered by a single breath — yet in truth full of endless, tenacious vitality, able to take root and flourish wherever she landed. Ming Yuji believed that Ming Huashang would most certainly live her life very well.
Ming Yuji had nothing more to say. Instead it was Ming Huashang who asked: “And the residence? Has everything been all right lately?”
Ming Yuji thought of the messy situation outside, sighed quietly to herself, and replied with an unruffled expression: “Fine.”
She said it lightly, but how could Ming Huashang not know the state the Duke Zhenguo’s Residence was in. Ming Huashang turned and looked at Ming Yuji seriously: “I have always believed that as long as a family’s hearts are together, there is no obstacle that cannot be overcome. Don’t struggle alone when things are hard. The Duke Zhenguo’s Residence isn’t only your responsibility — it is our home too.”
Something brushed through Ming Yuji’s heart like a feather — soft, rustling, a tide swelling in the deep, with nowhere to hide from it. The feeling was utterly unfamiliar, almost leaving her at a complete loss. After a moment of awkward resistance, Ming Yuji, for the first time, set aside some inexplicable stubbornness and laid bare her own troubles: “Now everyone knows the Duke Zhenguo’s Residence has no male heir to uphold the family. Many managers have colluded with outsiders to deceive the Ming family out of its assets. There are accounts I can’t make sense of — you’ve been in the residence longer and know the people better. Would you take a look?”
Ming Huashang said immediately: “Of course. Where are the account books? Let’s go right now.”
Ming Huashang and Ming Yuji were of one mind before the words were even finished. Without waiting for the other two, they turned a corner and headed straight for the study. In the Prolonged-Longevity Hall, Li Huazhang found a pretext to excuse himself, and Duke Zhenguo, seeing this, also came out.
The two of them walked along the covered corridor. Li Huazhang, thinking of his own reckless conduct in stealing the bride, composed his expression with gravity and made a sincere apology to Duke Zhenguo: “Duke, I behaved inexcusably that day. Please allow me to—”
Duke Zhenguo raised his large hand: “No need. A young man who never acts recklessly wastes his youth. When I first wed Yulan, I too could hardly bear to be apart from her for even a single one of the twelve hours of the day. But I was too proud, and always felt that a man of ambition should not be engrossed in domestic affairs — better to settle everything outside first, and then come home to accompany her. That waiting… lasted a lifetime. In this regard, you have surpassed me.”
When it came to Wang Yulan, Li Huazhang also didn’t know what to say. There had been a time when he didn’t understand why Duke Zhenguo always spoke of the past with a tone of self-mockery. Now that he too had taken a wife, he understood at last how much heartbreaking regret and sorrow lay within those few brief words.
Yet there was no such thing as “if only” in this world. Wealth, fame, status — all the things men yearn for in their youth — if lost, could be fought for again. But a person, once lost, was lost forever.
And this truth, more often than not, took half a lifetime to truly understand.
Li Huazhang had no words to offer and could only say: “Duke, my condolences.”
With the children newly married and joyful days ahead, Duke Zhenguo did not wish to dampen Li Huazhang’s spirits. He forced a light laugh, clasped his hands behind his back, and said: “Still calling me Duke?”
Li Huazhang had a moment of clarity, and a smile touched his face without him even realizing. At last he could call him by the proper name: “Yes — Father.”
The Prince Yong’s Residence was full of all manner of people, and Li Huazhang could never be certain who among his servants was reporting to whom behind his back. But within the Duke Zhenguo’s Residence it was far safer. Duke Zhenguo and Li Huazhang walked side by side along the winding covered corridor. Duke Zhenguo asked: “How is the Retired Emperor doing lately?”
Li Huazhang thought of that old, biding ruler within the Shanyang Palace, and did not dare to let down his guard. He slowly shook his head: “The Retired Emperor is recuperating from illness in the Shanyang Palace and sees no visitors. I too no longer know how her health fares.”
Duke Zhenguo let out a long sigh and said: “She killed the Crown Prince, killed many others — I should by rights hate her. But in all fairness, she was a remarkable woman and a formidable Emperor. There was a time when I was consumed with thoughts of avenging the Crown Prince. But then I watched Huashang and you grow up day by day, and gradually came to understand — the Crown Prince’s choice to take his own life was not out of hatred, but out of love. He loved his mother, and he loved you both. He could not choose between you, so he gave his one life to buy yours and that of the Prince of An’le. She broke her promise and drove the Crown Prince’s consort and the Prince of An’le to their deaths, and then you, in turn, stripped her of the throne — that is enough. The accounts are settled. If the Crown Prince knew, he would surely not wish you and the Retired Emperor to keep repaying each other’s grievances without end. If you have the time, go and visit her at the Shanyang Palace. She, too, is an eighty-year-old woman now.”
Li Huazhang lowered his gaze. He looked at the swaying tree shadows on the ground and was silent for a long while, then said softly: “Yes.”