With the dust settled, before leaving Lin’an, Zhenzhen went to pay respects at Crown Prince Zhuang Wen’s burial site on the south shore of West Lake. That day, Zhao Ai escorted her there. The burial site was originally the Dharma Hall of Baolin Temple. Zhenzhen had expected this place to be like other royal tombs—planted with pines and cypresses, with dark shadows and a solemn atmosphere. Only after getting off the palace carriage did she discover that outside the Dharma Hall was an open garden area planted with four-season flowers, bounded by natural river bends without surrounding walls. The hall backed against lush green mountains, faced the shimmering West Lake, with cascading waterfalls beyond a small bridge to one side. The entire garden was brilliant with red leaves like rosy clouds—an extremely gorgeous place without any gloomy or desolate feeling.
Yang Zicheng came out from the hall to greet her. Seeing her looking around at the scenery, he explained: “Previously I saw that around Crown Prince Zhuang Wen’s daily study, Zhanlü Hall, only bamboo was planted with no flowers at all. I said His Highness was in his prime and his residence shouldn’t be so cold and cheerless, suggesting adding some flowers. His Highness said: ‘Zhanlü Hall is for studying. Having bamboo around for the charm of wind through sparse bamboo is enough. If flowers were planted everywhere, I’d spend my days admiring flowers instead of reading. I do hope that after death, my resting place won’t be enclosed by high walls covering a large area, with tall pines and cypresses blocking sunlight, making the garden dark and deep, frightening to behold. Better to plant many flowers, gorgeous in all four seasons, fragrant throughout the garden, without walls, so visitors can bring old and young into the garden to enjoy spring and visit in autumn, happily together. Thus, if I know in the afterlife, I’ll surely be pleased.’ The scenery of this burial site now fulfills His Highness’s wishes. I requested to guard the tomb here and recently planted more famous flowers, rare plants, and maple and hackberry trees, so this autumn scene has much richer colors.”
Hearing this, Zhao Ai asked: “Master Yang served the Late Emperor and His Majesty for many years, deeply valued by two generations of rulers. Even if you wanted to become Chief Palace Administrator, your qualifications would suffice. Why abandon such great prospects and decide to spend peaceful days here?”
Yang Zicheng said: “I’m different from people like Cheng Yuan—I have little interest in fame, profit, or pleasures. Too much money breeds troubles; too much power breeds wild ambitions. This kind of peaceful life makes me feel more serene and comfortable. Daily planting flowers and tending grass, and when people come to pay respects to Crown Prince Zhuang Wen or admire flowers, chatting with them—it’s not too lonely. Spending my remaining years peacefully in such beautiful scenery—isn’t that good?”
Zhenzhen and Zhao Ai entered the hall to pay respects before Crown Prince Zhuang Wen’s spirit seat. Yang Zicheng guided them to burn incense, pour tea, and offer wine before the altar. Zhao Ai recounted how Zhenzhen returned to the palace, was promoted to Director of the Palace Kitchen, investigated the truth, and exposed the conspiracies of Liu, Yu, and Cheng Yuan, asking his elder brother to rest in peace. When everything was finished, Zhao Ai saw Zhenzhen still kneeling transfixed before the spirit seat with no intention of leaving, so he said to her: “Talk more with elder brother. I’ll go outside and wait for you.”
After he left, Zhenzhen took out the green plum wine she had brought, poured one cup to offer to the Crown Prince and another for herself, which she silently drank, saying sadly: “Your Highness, I feel this wine is like you, so I learned to brew it from Old Lady Song. In Ningguo Prefecture, I drank it every evening, more when alone, always hoping that when drunk, you would come see me in dreams… But why don’t you come? I haven’t seen you for so long, not even in dreams…”
She poured and drank several more cups until tears unknowingly streamed down her face. Autumn wind outside the hall swept through the curtains, reaching her body. Feeling cold, she shivered and leaned forward, closing her eyes and collapsing on the floor before the prayer mat. Shortly after, someone approached from behind, draping a garment over her. The garment was large and soft, like a warm embrace, gently enfolding her. She felt it, opened her eyes, and discovered the garment was exactly the cloak Crown Prince Zhuang Wen had pulled from the clothes rack to cover her after their lovemaking.
Yang Zicheng bent down to look at her, saying gently: “The ground is cold. Please rise first, my lady.”
He asked her to sit in a chair to the side, then went to collect the wine vessels she had arranged, saying as he cleaned: “Though plum wine is sweet, drinking too much will still cause intoxication. A taste is enough—it shouldn’t be drunk in excess.”
Zhenzhen wrapped the cloak tighter and asked him: “You’ve been keeping this garment, sir?”
Yang Zicheng said: “That night, after Crown Prince Zhuang Wen passed away, when I was organizing items in his room, I folded this cloak intending to return it to his bedchamber. Who knew that shortly after going out, people came to kill me. Without time to think, I ran with the cloak, so this garment has been with me all these years.”
Zhenzhen’s hand caressed the auspicious cloud patterns on the cloak’s edge, remembering that night’s events, feeling waves of pain in her heart again. After a moment, she said to Yang Zicheng: “Master Yang, after I return from Pujiang, I’ll also come here to plant flowers with you, alright?”
“No,” Yang Zicheng answered simply. “I’m old and approaching death—this kind of life suits me best. But you’re young with many things to do. Wasting your precious years here wouldn’t be approved by Crown Prince Zhuang Wen either.”
Pausing, he stopped his work and turned to face Zhenzhen directly: “He liked you when you were spirited and actively doing things. Moreover, looking at this garden full of fragrance shows he hoped the living would be safe and joyful, each having their own fulfilling life.”
Seeing Zhenzhen’s silence, he turned to look outside the hall and gently suggested: “It’s getting late. You should return with the Second Prince—he’s still waiting for you.”
Zhenzhen stood up, removed the cloak, held it in her hands, and asked Yang Zicheng: “Could you let me take this garment with me, sir?”
Yang Zicheng didn’t answer but smiled and gently took the cloak from Zhenzhen’s hands, then strode outside the hall, lit the cloak with candle fire, and burned it before the incense burner.
He turned back to look at Zhenzhen, who had followed and was staring at the flames in amazement: “The past is gone. Let all of yesterday fade with this smoke and fire. The sunshine outside is warm and gentle—you don’t need to wear this cloak anymore.”
Zhenzhen’s lips trembled slightly as she watched the cloak gradually disappear in the flames, unconsciously calling: “Your Highness…”
“His Highness hopes you’ll be happy,” Yang Zicheng smiled gently. “Whether before or after.”
Seeing Zhenzhen come out, Zhao Ai immediately stepped forward, asking her to board the carriage and return with him. Just then, a young man suddenly came running quickly from outside the Spirit Star Gate, calling “Zhenzhen.” Looking closely, Zhenzhen saw it was A’Che.
A’Che ran up to her and said: “My master also came to pay respects to Crown Prince Zhuang Wen today. Seeing you here, he didn’t leave immediately and is now in the pavilion by the northern river bend, hoping you’ll come for a chat.”
Before Zhenzhen could respond, Zhao Ai said to A’Che first: “Men and women should maintain proper distance. If there’s no business, why say more and invite gossip?”
A’Che ignored him and continued to Zhenzhen: “My master has again requested to resign from office. His Majesty didn’t approve, only allowing him leave to rest for a while. My master is returning to Wuyi Mountain tomorrow and very much wants to see you once more.”
Seeing Zhenzhen still not responding, A’Che became anxious and suddenly mentioned: “Actually, my master can swim!”
Zhenzhen was surprised and looked at him intently. A’Che continued: “Wuyi Mountain has many waters. My master likes quiet and as a child would sit reading for hours at a time. Madam worried this would be bad for his health long-term, so she had him learn swimming from fishermen at Jiuqu Stream. So when water temperatures were suitable, my master would practice. Now he’s very skilled in water, can hold his breath underwater for long periods—many fishermen can’t match him…”
Zhenzhen couldn’t help asking: “So that day at Gathering Scene Garden…”
“Yes!” A’Che immediately took up the conversation. “My master designed many of Gathering Scene Garden’s features and knew the garden’s terrain like the back of his hand. The night the lake flooded, seeing the torrential rain, he worried about your safety and immediately went to Gathering Scene Garden. I followed too. Later he dove underwater to save you. I can’t swim, so I waited on shore the whole time… Now he’s leaving and wants to speak his heart to you. Won’t you even go see him?”
After hearing this, Zhenzhen turned to look toward the northern pavilion. Zhao Ai sensed trouble and immediately said to her: “There’s only an old regret there, no need to revisit it.”
Seeing Zhenzhen speechless, he extended a hand toward her: “Get in the carriage. I’ll accompany you to send Madam Ju’s coffin back to Pujiang first, then we’ll go to Mingzhou.”
Zhenzhen didn’t accept his assistance and resolutely started walking north.
Zhao Ai chased a few steps, calling to Zhenzhen’s retreating figure: “Zhenzhen, I also have something to tell you!”
Zhenzhen didn’t answer and continued toward where Lin Hong was. Zhao Ai helplessly stopped, watching her go far away, the light in his eyes gradually dimming.
To the north was a small river separating the garden from West Lake’s embankment. Where the river curved was a wooden walkway that bent several times, extending toward the water surface. At the walkway’s end was a small pavilion with a thatched roof. Green trees towered on the embankment, soft blue water flowed below the pavilion, reflecting Lin Hong’s tall figure in white robes. He stood silently by the railing under the eaves, gazing toward the direction Zhenzhen would come from, his eyes holding a pool of autumn water, as quiet and still as these rippling lights and tree shadows.
Zhenzhen walked through the sparse shadows of red leaves in the garden, crossed two small bridges veiled in rosy clouds, passed through the walkway, and quietly approached Lin Hong.
He welcomed her with his gaze from afar. Seeing her approach, he smiled slightly and bowed in greeting.
Zhenzhen didn’t perform empty courtesies and directly asked: “That night at Gathering Scene Garden, you saved me?”
“Mm.” This time he didn’t deny it. “I only pulled you from the water. The boat was operated by a group of eunuchs.”
“Teacher Lin, I…” Zhenzhen wanted to express her gratitude but momentarily didn’t know where to begin.
“Do you want to repay this favor?” Lin Hong smiled gently, his tone like a gentle breeze and light rain. “Then I hope you’ll use the rest of your life, the mornings and evenings that can fill our annual rings.”
Hearing him mention annual rings again, Zhenzhen felt mixed emotions, lowered her eyelashes to avoid letting him see the slight ripples in her eyes. After a moment, she looked up, gazing at Lin Hong, and said: “This is like carving a boat to seek a sword, Teacher Lin.”
Bathed in his gentle gaze, despite his implicit hopes, she still firmly answered: “After traveling through ten thousand waters and a thousand mountains, the heart you lost by your boat’s side is no longer there.”
Zhenzhen bid farewell to Lin Hong and returned to the front of the hall, but didn’t see Zhao Ai. Yang Zicheng pointed east: “The Second Prince is on that bridge.”
The eastern small river banks were planted with maples, hackberries, ginkgos, sycamores, and weeping willows. Upstream, mountain spring water gurgled down, making the river water exceptionally clear. Tree shadows from the banks reflected in the water, above and below the surface deep and shallow reds, yellows, and greens blended together like glass, brilliantly colored. A small wooden rainbow bridge without railings spanned the river, with maple leaves like fire, ginkgos like gold, and willows swaying at both bridge heads—a dazzling and vibrant scene. Zhao Ai sat dejectedly on the bridge’s middle edge, feet dangling above the water, holding some stones in his hand. After skipping stones twice across the water and finding it boring, he threw all the remaining stones into the river with a splash, then looked down at the ripples beneath his feet. The soft cap on his head also drooped dejectedly like the wet wings of a rain swallow.
Zhenzhen silently walked to his side and also sat on the bridge’s edge, shoulder to shoulder with him.
Zhao Ai glanced sideways, then smiled with surprise and delight: “You’re back!”
Zhenzhen smiled and asked: “What did you want to tell me earlier?”
Zhao Ai looked at her with burning eyes and said: “Zhenzhen, I want to marry you.”
“Mm,” Zhenzhen avoided his gaze and looked toward where the flowing water meandered. “That’s not exactly a secret.”
Zhao Ai’s eyes lit up: “What did you just say?”
Zhenzhen repeated: “That’s not exactly a secret.”
Zhao Ai shook his head: “I mean the word before that.”
He obviously meant the “mm” that carried affirmative meaning. Zhenzhen was speechless with amusement: “That didn’t have any special meaning.”
“I don’t care, you just agreed,” Zhao Ai said joyfully with the tone of a child being unreasonable.
This time Zhenzhen didn’t contradict him. She glanced at him sideways, then slowly looked up, immersing herself in these thousand mountains of emerald green and ten thousand acres of glass light, her lips unconsciously gradually curving upward.