Zhao Ai silently accepted the fact that his position as heir had been taken by his younger brother. He made no complaints about this, even staying in Lin’an at his father’s request to participate in Zhao Hao’s investiture ceremony. But regarding marriage, he made no concessions, consistently claiming he was busy with official duties and had no intention of being distracted by marriage, earnestly requesting that the Crown Prince marry first. The emperor had no choice but to finally agree to let him return, postponing the marriage matter for now, and ordered preparations for the Crown Prince’s wedding ceremony to begin.
Returning to Ningguo Prefecture and facing a pile of accumulated government affairs awaiting his attention, Zhao Ai resumed his busy administrative life. He had few opportunities to see Zhenzhen until the autumn equinox, when Zhenzhen saw he had some leisure time and invited him to Zhanle Pavilion for an autumn banquet she had specially arranged for him.
The matter of establishing the heir was known throughout the nation. Knowing Zhao Ai was feeling depressed, Zhenzhen specially brought the two foreign girls purchased from Guangzhou to perform songs and dances that day, and also invited Wei Qingxun to join them, hoping she could help console and comfort Zhao Ai.
Wei Qingxun made no mention of the heir establishment, instead teasing Zhao Ai: “Your Highness looks so melancholy – one can tell at a glance that you were pressured about marriage by elders when you returned to Lin’an.”
Zhao Ai glanced at her and asked: “What gossip has your family passed along from Lin’an this time?”
“Not at all,” Wei Qingxun laughed. “No one passed along anything – I’m just guessing. Every time I return to Lin’an, elders nag in my ears daily, wanting me to marry quickly… Your Highness is not young anymore, yet you managed to escape unscathed this time. I wonder what secret technique you have? Could you teach it to me so I can also use it to refuse marriage proposals?”
Zhao Ai said: “There’s no secret technique – just firmly refuse to agree. Whoever brings it up, I give them a cold look, get up, and take my leave. No matter what else they say, I don’t listen to a word.”
Wei Qingxun said in wonder: “Every time my father talks to me about this, when I show I don’t want to listen, he gets so angry he wants to take a whip to me. When His Majesty urged you and you didn’t listen, didn’t he get angry?”
“Naturally he was angry,” Zhao Ai answered. “He even considered confining me and forcing me to marry before leaving. Supposedly the wife was already chosen for me and they were about to begin the formal betrothal process, but then the young lady’s father reported that his daughter had recently fallen ill and couldn’t marry for the time being. Only then did His Majesty give up and allow me to return to Ningguo Prefecture.”
Hearing this, Zhenzhen asked: “Which family’s young lady was it?”
“I don’t know,” Zhao Ai waved his hand. “I had no interest at all. I only heard she was from an imperial relative’s family. Whenever anyone mentioned this matter to me, I immediately turned hostile, so I have no idea who it actually was.”
“Why didn’t Second Brother patiently listen and make time to meet her?” Zhenzhen smiled. “Perhaps upon meeting, you’d find yourselves compatible and create another beautiful romance.”
Zhao Ai looked up at her and smiled faintly: “You are my beautiful romance.”
Then he withdrew his gaze from Zhenzhen’s astonished face and turned to Wei Qingxun, courteously bowing slightly: “My apologies. We’re all friends, so please allow me to speak frankly.”
Wei Qingxun immediately put her arm around Zhenzhen’s waist, kissed her cheek, then smirked at him: “Your Highness, that depends on whether I agree.”
Zhao Ai frowned slightly, and suddenly the air carried a hint of tension. The two foreign girls, not understanding the situation, thought they were joking and couldn’t help laughing one after another. Zhenzhen’s face reddened as she scolded them: “What are you laughing at! Did I tell you to stop? Quickly play a new piece you’ve been practicing.”
The foreign girls submissively complied. Soon one played the flute while the other held a pipa, beginning to perform a piece with exotic charm. The melody was sometimes mournfully beautiful, sometimes resonant like metal and stone. The girl playing pipa had flying fingers with intricate techniques, playing faster and faster. When reaching the passionate climax, a string suddenly snapped, causing the music to stop abruptly.
The foreign girl bashfully apologized, saying she had just started learning this piece. The composition was court music of extreme difficulty, and her skills were inadequate, so she couldn’t complete it. Zhenzhen’s expression suddenly changed as she asked the girl: “What is this piece called?”
The foreign girl answered: “Liangzhou Melody.”
Zhenzhen fell silent. From the moment the melody began, she felt it was familiar. When the girl reached the middle section, she had already remembered – this was precisely the pipa music that had drifted from the upstairs when she was escorted out of that unfamiliar garden after her last meeting with Qiuniang. During the few hours she spent with Qiuniang, she hadn’t seen anyone else in that small building, so the pipa music was most likely played by Qiuniang herself. Previously, Xiang Li’er had also told her that Lady Ju was skilled at the Liangzhou Dance, so was this another piece of evidence that Qiuniang was Lady Ju?
Her mood became increasingly troubled. At that time she had been forced to leave Lin’an and still couldn’t return. She didn’t know how her mother was doing. Whenever she thought of her mother, she could only comfort herself that the mother she saw that night looked the same as always, with undiminished spirit and exquisite clothing, appearing to be well-treated with no danger to her life. She could only do as her mother said – live well and find a way to return to Lin’an in the future for a chance to see her again.
Seeing her absent-minded and on the verge of tears, Zhao Ai called to her with concern. Only then did Zhenzhen wake as if from a dream, opening her eyes as wide as possible and instructing the foreign girl: “Don’t play the pipa anymore. Sing another song instead.”
The foreign girl agreed. After conferring quietly, the flute music resumed, and the woman who had been playing pipa sang in a soft voice: “No spreading leaves are seen by the balustrade; only brilliant clusters turn beneath the steps. Looking closely to compare with what? Dawn clouds first layered over Red Wall Palace.”
Zhenzhen asked what was being sung. The foreign girl said: “This is a new song the Luming Pavilion musicians taught us – they said it’s a quatrain called ‘Golden Lamp Flower’ written by Xue Tao. Just now we were practicing in the back courtyard and saw the golden lamp flowers blooming beautifully in the garden, so we prepared to sing this song.”
Hearing this, Wei Qingxun walked to the window facing the back courtyard and looked toward the flower garden. Indeed, she saw the largest plot in the center was full of golden lamp flowers – leafless, blooming in bright red clusters. The petals were like dancing flames, connected in a spectacular tapestry that appeared especially dazzling against the surrounding desolate autumn scenery.
Zhenzhen now also walked slowly to her side to admire the flowers with her. Wei Qingxun pondered briefly, then asked Zhenzhen: “When were these flowers planted? I’ve never come to Zhanle Pavilion around the autumn equinox in previous years, so I never noticed them.”
Zhenzhen said: “The flowers were planted by the previous owner of this courtyard. I saw they bloomed beautifully and kept them until now.” Seeing Wei Qingxun had no smile and didn’t seem appreciative, she asked: “What’s wrong? Is there something inappropriate?”
Wei Qingxun said: “These flowers prefer dark, damp places. They often bloom in dense, ancient forests, at the mouths of deep caves, or… on graves. They have another name – ‘Ghost Lantern Stand’ – so many people dislike them, considering them unlucky. Haven’t customers dining at Zhanle Pavilion mentioned this?”
Zhenzhen was startled and shook her head. Looking again at that expanse of blood-red flowers, she suddenly felt their appearance had taken on a more eerie and sinister quality.
“Probably because these flowers have a short blooming period and not many people here have seen them. Even if someone knew, they wouldn’t mention it out of politeness,” Wei Qingxun said.
After a moment of silence, Zhenzhen asked her: “So you mean that since we’re running a tavern, we shouldn’t keep these unlucky flowers and should better uproot them?”
Wei Qingxun smiled: “Not necessarily. Because golden lamp flowers grow in poor locations, people in our country dislike them. But a high monk from Japan once told me they find golden lamp flowers very beautiful. This flower is very likely one of the four heavenly flowers mentioned in Buddhist scriptures – Manjusaka. So whether they’re lucky or unlucky depends on how the viewer thinks about them. You can still make decisions about Zhanle Pavilion. If you don’t mind, you can certainly keep them.”
Manjusaka! Zhenzhen was secretly startled again, immediately remembering those characters that Zhang Yunqiao had prominently marked in the Lotus Sutra.
She raised her eyes to gaze at that expanse of golden lamp flowers, finding them increasingly piercingly red. Pondering Wei Qingxun’s words, she gradually felt chilled to the bone, her heartbeat becoming inexplicably erratic.
At this moment, Zhao Ai suddenly asked Wei Qingxun: “Does Pavilion Master Wei enjoy flowers and plants? You seem quite knowledgeable about them.”
“It’s my mother who liked tending flowers and plants,” Wei Qingxun said. “She lived alone in the inner courtyard with nothing much to do, so she spent every day caring for famous flowers and exotic plants. I stayed by her side constantly as a child, and seeing so much naturally gave me some knowledge.”
Zhao Ai continued: “You and your mother must have had a deep mother-daughter bond. People who love growing flowers are usually very gentle – she probably wouldn’t pressure you about marriage.”
“Even if I wanted her to pressure me about marriage, I wouldn’t have the chance anymore,” Wei Qingxun’s eyes dimmed. “She passed away several years ago.”
Zhao Ai quickly apologized for his thoughtless words. Wei Qingxun smiled slightly and said “no matter,” then after a moment told him and Zhenzhen about her mother: “After she gave birth to my elder brother and me, my father took concubines and neglected her. She began investing her emotions in flowers and plants, sparing no expense to acquire famous flowers, filling her days with children and gardening. Later, elder brother rebelled against father’s discipline and ran to Ningguo Prefecture to open a tavern. Father flew into a rage and nearly severed family ties with elder brother, becoming even more partial to the son born to his concubine. Mother was very sad, often crying to me, lamenting that I wasn’t a son who could replace elder brother in winning father’s favor… She listened to someone’s instigation and believed that only by bearing another obedient, clever legitimate son could she change the situation of being oppressed by concubines. So she risked having a child at an advanced age, but unexpectedly both mother and child died… After she passed away, I didn’t want to stay in that household anymore. When elder brother returned for the funeral and father insisted he become an official, I asked elder brother to give me Luming Pavilion, then came to Ningguo Prefecture despite father’s opposition.”
She paused, looking at Zhao Ai and Zhenzhen who were listening with pained expressions, then smiled coldly: “Tell me, wasn’t my mother’s life utterly worthless? Tying all her emotions, hopes, joys and sorrows to one man, completely forgetting herself. Must women have only one path – marriage and childbearing? Living daily in anxiety about gaining or losing favor and whether she had sons, becoming a resentful woman? I refused to follow father’s arrangements and finally found the life I wanted in Ningguo Prefecture.”
After speaking, she glanced at the two foreign girls who were listening intently, resumed her radiant smile, and called loudly for them to pour wine. Raising her cup to Zhao Ai and Zhenzhen, she said: “Come! Poetry and wine while we’re young!”
They drank until sunset. Wei Qingxun took her leave to return to the city. Seeing Zhao Ai had no intention of leaving, she didn’t invite him to accompany her, instead taking the two foreign girls back with her.
After they left, Zhenzhen cautiously brought up the matter of establishing the heir, wanting to offer some comfort. But Zhao Ai stopped her, saying: “Actually, from childhood I always assumed the throne would eventually belong to elder brother, so I never harbored hopes for it. Now that I’ve missed the chance at being heir, I’m not too disappointed… What truly saddens me is that this return to the palace made me deeply realize that father has completely given up on me.”
Zhenzhen consoled him: “His Majesty has always cared for you. It’s just that he had misunderstandings about you due to Crown Prince Zhuangwen’s matter, leading to today’s situation. But his willingness to give you real power in Ningguo Prefecture despite opposition shows he still values you considerably and intends to cultivate you.”
Zhao Ai sadly shook his head: “No, Zhenzhen. He had already given up on me when he sent me away… Why did he make me leave Lin’an? Because he was already preparing to make third brother Crown Prince then. Bypassing order to establish an heir would inevitably face ministerial opposition, so he had me leave Lin’an first to prevent opportunities for contact and alliance with court officials. This way, even with dissent, it wouldn’t gain momentum and he could easily suppress it. Giving me this bit of local authority was merely token consolation – regardless of how well or poorly I performed, it wouldn’t affect third brother.”
He looked at Zhenzhen with self-deprecating laughter: “This time when he summoned me back, I thought he remembered me and wanted to see me. But it turned out he was afraid I’d plot rebellion after seeing third brother become Crown Prince, so he specifically had the Empress Dowager keep me confined in the Northern Inner Palace for one night before the heir establishment. Afterward, he had people closely monitor my movements and strictly forbade contact with ministers, only releasing me after third brother’s investiture ceremony when the situation was settled… I’m just his incompetent son – what virtue or ability do I have to warrant such wariness!”
He smiled bitterly, poured himself a cup of wine and drank it in one gulp. When he tried to pour another, Zhenzhen pressed down on his hand.
“Second Brother, you’ve had enough to drink today,” Zhenzhen gently stopped him, then advised: “Our lives are gifts from our parents. Their raising us to adulthood is already a great grace. Family property and additional love – if they give these to us, it’s certainly wonderful. But if they’re unwilling to give more, that’s understandable too. That’s their decision. We needn’t resent them. They’ve already raised us to adulthood, and we can live self-sufficiently. We don’t need to calculate whether they’ve given us more or less in terms of wealth and affection, because ultimately we must live independently without relying on them, walking independently. I also firmly believe that all parents love their children. His Majesty is the ruler of a nation – family matters are state matters. He surely considers things more thoroughly than we do, hoping to be cautious in everything to avoid giving people cause for criticism. Acting that way might just be what he considers proper, not special wariness toward you. Looking at it from another angle, he probably knows you’ve always been free-spirited and uninhibited. Wanting to give you more freedom, he made the unprecedented decision to let you leave the capital and develop your talents in Ningguo Prefecture.”
Zhao Ai listened silently without commenting, instead asking her: “Zhenzhen, do you still remember your father? Was he good to you back then?”
Zhenzhen was startled, then said: “My father left me when I was very small, but I believe leaving me wasn’t his wish…”
“Have you never found out where he went afterward?” Zhao Ai asked again.
Zhenzhen shook her head but paled, involuntarily looking once more toward that expanse of “Manjusaka.”
In his slight intoxication, Zhao Ai didn’t notice her strange expression and didn’t pursue the matter further. He continued intermittently confiding various thoughts to her until dusk gathered and autumn insects chirped, then stood up saying: “I should go back.”
Zhenzhen worried that having drunk too much wine, riding at night would be unsafe, so she suggested: “Why don’t you rest in the upstairs bedroom tonight? I’ll return to Granny Song’s courtyard in a while.”
“No,” Zhao Ai said. “My staying here overnight would damage your reputation.”
“Reputation? I stopped caring about that long ago,” Zhenzhen smiled. “Song Taoshang’s reputation was already thoroughly ruined by Prefect Zhao.”
Their close association, especially his deliberate displays, were probably already known throughout Ningguo Prefecture. Everyone would indeed view them as lovers. Thinking of this, Zhao Ai felt an inexplicable warmth in his heart. Seeing she didn’t mind much, he couldn’t help feeling some sweetness, his lips silently curving upward.
Zhenzhen continued: “Having experienced so many matters of life and death, by now I’ve become philosophical. Names, identities, so-called reputation – none of these matter. Regardless of how outsiders gossip or privately speculate about how we get along, as long as we ourselves are open and clear, feeling no guilt, that’s enough.”
Zhao Ai smiled faintly, extended one finger to lightly touch her lips, and asked in a low voice: “Truly no guilt at all?”
In the thick night, Zhenzhen felt his eyes were deep and dark, the faintly visible affection in them flickering with the candlelight. Her heart jumped, and for a moment she was speechless.
Zhao Ai smiled, withdrew his hand, and said: “I’m not Liu Xiahui. If I stay longer, I’ll wonder: if I embraced you, would you push me away? If you rejected me, I’d lose face terribly and might not dare come see you for a long time. If you didn’t push me away, I’d question whether your kindness to me was only from sympathy for my situation, and whether I was just seeking pity through self-pity… Forget it. I won’t create such difficult problems for us.”
He went downstairs, mounted his horse and left, not letting Zhenzhen come out to see him off. Zhenzhen stood by the upstairs window, watching him depart.
After riding a few steps, he suddenly turned back to look at her, smiled broadly, then continued along the pale moon and autumn waters, riding away. All along the route, the night breeze was gentle, his robes fluttering. Under her smiling gaze, even the horse’s hoofbeats sounded particularly light and melodious.
Only after his figure disappeared did Zhenzhen realize she had been smiling the entire time. Recalling her dampened mood when he came through the snow years ago, she vaguely sensed that between him and her, something indeed seemed to be quietly changing.