The Crown Prince passed away. His funeral overflowed with riches and splendor.
That year Chang’an was buried beneath exceptionally heavy snowfall.
Boundless flakes blanketed the ruby halls as birds chirped along the stone-paved walkways. The solemn funeral procession spanned long and far on white horses and carriages. People lined both sides caps lowered with heads bowed, snowy robes fluttering amidst absolute silence around the slumbering coffin.
The benevolent Crown Prince was universally beloved. At his death officials and commoners alike wept in sorrow filling the streets. Some scattered the roads fully with white petals — with the merest stirring winds those delicate blossoms drifted slowly across the shimmering blankets of snow.
From then on, the Emperor’s second son Kang had perished.
Three years onward.
That day was New Year’s Eve.
Dawn slowly brightened over East Tower Lane, smoke and cooking fires drifting lazily upwards. The aroma of rich glutinous wines for offerings permeated every corner and alleyway. Dancers in shimmering silks pranced at crowded intersections as families ushered in the new year by pasting poetic couplets upon?frames decorated with vivid red banners and intricate firework displays.
“For you, young hero.” The neighborhood wine merchant handed an old flask out towards the girl at his doors.
Dressed in light blue warrior robes with a woven bamboo hat, she accepted it softly. “Thank you.”
Beneath the lowered hat brim a slender wrist flashed, long fingers clasping the vessel brimming with sweet osmanthus wine.
“Has he awoken?” The owner asked gently.
The girl shook her head silently. She unwound a crimson cord from her hair securing the flask round her waist before melting into the bustling crowd.
Earlier flurries left faint dustings over the imposing ebony gates of the Imperial Academy.
With ministerial leaves granted for the holidays, silence reigned in the empty archives warmed by delicate rays of sunlight filtering through onto the crowded bookshelves, motes sparkling in the beams.
The wooden doors creaked admitting the girl inside. She prepared a tea set of celadon ware, settling by the window to quietly brew tea accompanied by the comforting fragrances of parchment blending into the tranquil space.
Soon two steaming cups rested on the desk as she crossed the room. Returning from the stacks she placed scriptural scrolls between them, spreading crisp paper to copy the Buddhist verses neatly.
Three precise characters were penned at the top of every completed sheet — Zhu Zi’an.
For three tireless years she wrote line after line with heartfelt diligence.
Rustling papers whispered softly. Placing the latest finished copy atop the pile she flipped through a thick sheaf of letters, expression tender while reading under sunlight.
Page upon fanciful page of his imagined adventures, amusing tales from his ‘travels’, unusual anecdotes and more flowed without end across the lands. He’d somehow consumed countless obscure texts detailing myths and legends from every corner under heaven, sharing the most ridiculous stories imaginable with her for laughter’s sake.
He wrote so very much, enough to last her an entire lifetime reading while awaiting his awakening even if it lasted their joint lives.
The prepared tea cooled untouched by her elbow, thin wisps still curling faintly upwards with warmth. Once, long clever fingers had cradled that very same cup — knuckles pronounced, lines elegant yet strong.
She lingered here reading his letters as if he sat in companionable silence nearby for always.
Wintry hours passed sluggishly onwards beyond her noticing. Glancing up she realized chen time had come and gone.
Packing up she departed the archives heading towards Chang Le Square.
New spring couplets framed each household entrance throughout the square, lively smithing accompanying heavenly aromas drifting from glutinous rice cakes and other festive snacks sold along the bustling lane.
A stallholder smiled brightly at her approach, cheerily calling out familiar greetings. “Mrs. Zhu’s come again today has she? Happy new year, the usual treats?”
“A very happy new year to you too.” She smiled back with a slight bow, handing over some loose coins.
Grinning happily he accepted her money in exchange for two deliciously warm cherry rice cakes neatly wrapped in banana leaves, glancing around briefly as he handed the package over. “Has Mister Zhu returned yet or no? Yet another year gone by and still I miss that lad.”
“He’ll be back very soon,” she assured the kind man. “If delayed much longer I may well grow angry.”
“As well you should!” He chuckled in agreement. “What manner of husband leaves his wife all these years!”
Her soft laughter mingled with his. “One deserving of a sound thrashing indeed.”
With a final shared smile she took her leave, pausing halfway down the quieter side lane. Another silver coin softly dropped into the worn wooden alms bowl in a shadowy corner followed by her gentle New Year’s greeting. “Happy days, Young Master Luo.”
The rubble-clothed beggar pillowed atop a rock stirred at the clink of money striking wood, cracking open a single eyelid. “Awake yet?” His gravelly voice rasped out.
The girl gave a faint shake of her head. “Still slumbering deeply.”
A long sigh escaped him. “And another year gone by…”
Perhaps the rich fatty scents of festive dishes down the way loosened his normally taciturn tongue for he continued speaking rather volubly. “He showed me kindness once, a debt I’ve yet to repay.” His gaze tracked the holiday crowds beyond. “My family name is Luo.”
She froze for an instant as he gave a mirthless huff of laughter. “Not even Zhu knows this truth.”
“The people of Chang Le believe I live on his annual charity upon passing my corner these ten-odd years with a spare ingot.” The beggar’s voice descended into a murmur. “But what I’m most thankful towards him for is saving my younger brother.”
“Shi Yi wouldn’t recognize me now after everything changed. I merely watch over him from afar.”
In his muted graveled tone he went on. “After the fire destroyed East Tower Lane you couldn’t locate his body for I already handled the remains, burying him upon a nice scenic hilltop in the countryside. Pleasantly sunny year-round with views of Chang’an.”
“Should you ever wish to visit just don’t tell Zhu,” he cautioned softly. “News would devastate him terribly.”
Rolling over he fell silent, features obscured by shadows with only the ragged stone outline beneath his head visible in faint light.
Leaving the small alley she rapped gently upon another gate nearby. A refined youth peered out from the crack and eagerly waved her inside with familiar hospitality. “Greetings Lady Jiang, a very happy new year to you! Please stay to celebrate with us tonight!”
“Everyone’s gathered tonight on Doctor Shen’s invitation for you specially,” he informed her while pulling the door wider.
Lazy coils of smoke drifted from the roofly cooking fires with mouthwatering aromas thickly infusing the heated air from the bustling kitchens. A slender girl leaned bodily halfway out the window in excitement, vigorously waving them over. Beside her a scholarly looking youth gripped both shoulders tightly lest she tumble outside altogether.
Despite restraints she shouted spiritedly. “Xiaoman, happy new year!! General Jiang’s entire family returned to Bai Ling for the occasion so my elder brother Duan Shan joined me instead! He promised to wrap dumplings for all to sample his culinary skills!”
“After relentless wheedling he’s quite the chef now!” She boasted smugly, twisting around to flash brief smiles up at the amused man. Who then leaned down to lightly kiss her cheek in returned affection.
The estate was indeed exceptionally lively that night with the small courtyard table entirely surrounded by merry people. Doctor Shen clinked cups merrily with Beggars Union Chief Yuan exchanging legendary tales from their venturesome younger days, utterly captivating the kids Little Chen and Cold Bai Zhou.
Nearby Jiang Duan Shan continuously refilled Bai Ying’s rice bowl with titbits before she demurely offered around a elegant long-necked pot of fine vintage wine. The aged bouquet enhanced the cozy atmosphere, provided specially for the occasion by their host.
Sitting in their midst cradling a white porcelain cup, the girl’s gaze drifted towards the silent yard locked in meditative stillness. For a heartbeat she froze up completely.
The plum tree there was blooming.
As if a breath of pure ethereal fragrance had wafted over from very far away to wreathe her form.
After supper the guests gradually dispersed into the darkened streets. The girl traced winding paths from Chang Le towards East Tower Lane.
Every major intersection hosted elaborate open theatres packed with enthralled crowds watching the extravagantly dressed performers singing operas amidst cheering and applause.
Occasionally an well-executed aria provoked particularly thunderous ovations. From the tall towers graceful maidens fluttered brilliant silk handkerchiefs resembling vibrant drifting petals atop the vibrant canopies like glimmering rainbow clouds carrying countless auspicious new year wishes heavenwards.
Snatches of melodious lyrics floated upon stirred winds — “Affections often strike unaware, deepening henceforth…”
Another’s voice responded in duet beyond the fluttering curtains — “As the living may perish, perished ones live on…”
The wandering girl faltered slightly.
It was sung from his most beloved play.
While strolling or cart-riding when bored he’d softly hum those occasional lines under his breath, eyes dark with quiet sorrowful mirth.
She’d never caught the second half before.
Amidst the dense crowds her steps slowed before an intricate stage. Lifting her gaze towards those elegant costumes she focused upon one figure who had lightly dabbed reddened cosmetics near his eyes resembling crystallized teardrops soon to fall.
Unthinkingly she breathed the song under her breath.
And finally understood why this particular scene so enthralled him.
He too yearned for a love persisting beyond mortal bounds into eternity.
Inside the rebuilt bookshop of East Tower Lane, crowds crammed chaotically together within. At the forefront a storyteller clad in scholarly blue robes enunciated loudly. “Now begins the tale of Chang’an’s chivalrous heroes and their electrifying exploits of enmity and brotherhood…”
“Speaking of the winter midnight turmoil during Jing De’s eighth year, those very swordsmen gathered under swirling snowstorms to stem surging chaos and calamity…”
“All villains at last captured were promptly beheaded southeast of the city beneath that solitary Weeping Willow as warning…”
His narrative faded intermittently amidst the din. Still listening intently she looked away from the clamoring masses with a soft chuckle under her breath.
If he were beside me now, she mused silently.
His fantastical stories would surely outshine these ordinary tellers by far.
Quietly slipping through the boisterous throngs she climbed wooden stairs towards their private second floor chamber. Beyond the doors the swelling sounds of the former crowds receded entirely.
Utter stillness reigned within the lighting room save for a square wooden desk with an ornamental screen positioned behind it. Flanking both sides were two thick mattresses stacked together though the further one hadn’t felt human touch for very long by now.
Starlights outside cast intermittent beams through the window Frames resembling tiny jewels embedded into the floorboards.
Seating herself at the desk she brewed a sleeping draught before cradling the warm cup within both palms. Listening to the soft dripping constellations she stared outside half fancying the silent outlines of another leaning by the sill instead.
This very room held their first clumsy kiss together not so long ago.
As midnight peaked the streets gradually emptied below.
The long winding stretch soon echoed with nearing drums heralding dancers in strange fearsome costumes and masks, rattling and swaying wildly to the erratic beats. Spectators gather at roadsides attempting to divert ill omens by showering the eerie procession with auspicious red paper charms.
Amidst the shifting crowds a small beaming face suddenly popped up cheerily waving a slender arm towards the pensive girl. In a bubbly bright voice the tiny merchant called out. “Care for some beautiful flowers to pin up Miss? Happy new year to you!”
She managed a small sad smile while gently shaking her head declining his wares. The crestfallen child bobbed away, soon disappearing back into the cheerful mass of onlookers trailing the dancers. But her gaze lingered over the small figure fading into dark shadows for a very long time.
Skirting the icy cobbled roads she navigated familiar twists and turns towards an narrow attic nestled between dressmaker shops. Slightly weathered red poetic couplets framed its doorway — bold beautiful writing in a hand she instantly recognized from very long ago when they spent new years under this same roof for he’d lacked time to replace it after.
Numerous paper talismans depicting fierce door gods guaranteeing fortunes filled the empty spaces, their vibrant pigments also dulled by time and countless seasons. Some wooden strips had split leaving imprints somewhat faded and blurred.
A painstaking search recovered those old hand-sketched amulets from his Eastern Palace residences to now adorn the little attic once more.
Pausing by the gates for a wordless eternity she finally entered the barren room.
Though for an instant she vaguely perceived another figure within turning at her intrusion with a crooked grin of welcome.
“Slow as always I see, Jiang Xiaoman,” came the imaginary teasing reproach in gentle cadences brimming with poorly suppressed mirth that never failed eliciting reflexive smiles in return.
Which vanished swiftly as the stirred winds revealed nothing except emptied interiors.
Papers and manuscripts cluttered the writing desk rather chaotically, rustling softly in the breezes. A pristine snowflake wafted through the cracked glass, alighting onto a sheet resembling a delicate butterfly come to rest.
Secured doors shut away the outside world behind her. She removed the flask of wine from her waist and leaned against the windowsill overlooking the long winding fiery streets below much like him during their stolen moments past.
Lamps and lanterns glimmered brilliantly akin to blossoming dragons of light.
With a resounding boom, rainbow fireworks burst across the skies. Thunderous eruptions of firecrackers echoed across the land.
Those shimmering explosions faded into a rain of scattered stars trickling over the girl’s wistful expression framed by transient half-light against the glass panes.
Illuminated in transient radiance she lifted her head whispering softly to the emptiness within.
“Happy new year, Xie Kang…”
Dawn on new year’s day gently stirred her slumber.
Another year arrived but he disliked celebratory fanfare, thus she had planned amusing distractions lasting from new year’s eve itself straight through bedtime this night.
Yet he fell unconscious earlier and never reawoke afterwards.
That long year held so many promises — visiting their master as familial custom dictated, strolling peach groves filled with early blossoms he would show her, simmering large pots of nourishing fish soups, endless embraces and sweet kisses…
But time never touched another year’s renewal for him.
On the mournful first sunrise she noiselessly departed East Tower Lane heading towards the Forbidden Gardens.
Deep inside its maze of foliage and streams rested an unremarkable tomb.
Her beloved one now slept within its embrace.
Passing along raised corridors beneath fiery domes her steps traced the solitary stone bridge resembling a pillar of light. Fantastical images lined its sides depicting souls shedding their physical forms while carried heavenwards by sun and moon to become one with the celestial stars.
But she refused releasing him fully into their folds. A part of him would linger behind. For she understood well this place enthralled him utterly when alive.
Now only an empty casket remained within the silent vaults. And before it she knelt, gazing down at death-pale features etched with tranquility.
In diaphanous dawn mists, ephemeral frost limned his countenance transforming it into frozen beauty.
Reaching out she gently caressed those delicate traceries, softly clearing away winter’s last kisses.
Much like that day when she clung to him beneath plum blossoms, drenched crimson yet uncaring of the heavy snowfall swirling down to mask everything in white — including his unseeing eyes briefly before she brushed it all away.
Having removed his disguises she sent him here wearing his truest face, an eternal promise sealed by death.
She worked tirelessly mending fatal wounds alongside Doctor Shen’s tireless efforts concocting fiercely potent elixirs to eradicate lethal ice coursing through failing veins. Always she kept vigil, hands wrapped around increasingly frigid fingers.
His touches chilled to freezing yet somehow she fancied this deathly sleep a mercy for such torturous lifesaving attempts…
Hadn’t he always been such a sensitive soul, hating pain most of all?
In time physical recovery stabilized yet consciousness never returned.
Exhaustion from lifelong burdens claimed a terribly steep price now, such that he wandered locked away in year-spanning dreams unable to rouse save by her song. And she would sing however long he required until then.
For her years still stretched long ahead so waiting through their lifespan was no hardship.
On this day marking another new year renewal the skies were always exceptionally clear and bright with birds cheerily flitting about amidst lingering delicate fragrances upon stirred winds.
Brilliant rays abruptly burst through the clouds carried on diaphanous softly falling flakes to kiss his rested cheeks.
For an instant snowflake lashes faintly trembled.
And he slowly woke beneath heavenly radiance as if rousing languidly from a sun-stained afternoon nap, still wearing remnants of dreaming’s haze while gazing at her in lingering confusion much like their earliest days past.
She watched him wordlessly. Too overwhelmed for speech or gestures, frame shaking uncontrollably.
Despite endless nights reciting his name all language now inexplicably failed her then save the soundless flakes drifting endlessly down between them.
For twelve long years he had waited faithfully. And for three she endured alone.
In suspended silence their eyes met — his still holding remnants of drowsing puzzlement and shadows. Eventually he attempted speech, voice slightly hoarse and muted from prolonged stillness.
“Who might you be?”
Abruptly she burst into tears.
So he froze up as well before quickly stammering “My apologies, I merely jested… Didn’t expect you reacting thus…”
“How could I ever forget you, Jiang Xiaoman?” He murmured. “Have I slept very long?”
“Three years by the new era’s reckoning,” she whispered back tearfully.
“They changed reign names then?”
“Mm.”
“Xie Chenbi reigns now?”
“Mm.”
“Unexpected yet she would make an exceptional ruler,” he remarked softly.
Lapsing into silence once more, perhaps awkwardness prevailed from overly extended separations that somehow marred familiar ease upon reunion however transient.
He seemed to study her for a spell, fingertips shifting faintly. A lone snowflake meandered down catching lightly upon his lashes.
Slowly he blinked, brushing away the chill droplets before reaching out to embrace her fully.
His actions were gentle and quiet as winter’s plum blossoms swirling embraces around her very soul — crisp yet cleansed fragrances redolent of white frost and hopeful springs.
“Wife, it’s me,” his whispered words drifted by her ear.
In the far off woods more flakes wafted soundlessly amidst the bare frosted boughs marked with tiny bird tracks. Stirring winds carried scents of early blooms, sweet peach and apricot, and endless shining tomorrows.
Golden brilliance suffused everything overhead, coalescing into a vibrant column of light framing their reunited kiss.
——
The legend tells of a moon that lights the earth in a single night
Of a universe vast, with a thousand thousand worlds in every sight
The Three Thousand Great Thousand Worlds they are called across time
And within them, there walk souls who for you their journey climb
——
(T/N: Sharing the last paragraphs in the original mandarin to enjoy the poetic beauty…
???????????????
????????????????????
??????????????
Thank you for joining me on this journey!)
Leave a Reply