Chapter 41 Finally They Met

In early summer, the garden is lush with vegetation. Newly planted bamboo casts dappled shadows along the winding paths, and several newly renovated houses with white walls and gray tiles are scattered among them, already beginning to resemble the elegant atmosphere of an academic community. Workers are busy in twos and threes, and the sounds of chiseling stone, sawing wood, and occasional conversations intertwine to create a hopeful symphony of construction.

This peaceful busyness was broken by a respectful announcement that came from afar—"His Highness the Crown Prince has arrived!"

Zhen Yunji, now the Crown Prince of the Empire, dressed in an apricot-yellow robe with a four-clawed python pattern and a jade belt around his waist, strode into the Liyuan Garden, surrounded by eunuchs and guards. His face had lost some of the roughness honed by the northern winds and sands, appearing more composed and dignified, yet a hint of urgency and excitement could not be concealed between his brows. His gaze quickly swept over the scenery in the garden, finally settling on Huairou, who had rushed out from the main hall to greet him upon hearing the news.

"Greetings, Your Highness." Huairou led the people in the garden to curtsy in accordance with etiquette. Today she was dressed in an elegant moon-white ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), with only a simple jade hairpin in her hair, which complemented the style of the academy that was under construction.

Yunji stepped forward quickly and offered a helping hand: "Huairou, there's no need for such formalities." His voice was still clear and melodious, but it carried a touch of the composure and strength befitting a crown prince. He glanced around, frowned slightly, and waved to his entourage, "Wait here, I have important matters to discuss with...Guo Siyuan."

"Your Highness..." The eunuch looked troubled.

"Step down." Yunji's tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable authority.

After waiting for his companions to retreat to the garden gate, Yunji turned to Huairou. The deliberately maintained dignified demeanor in his eyes instantly melted away, replaced by an almost childlike eagerness and dependence. He lowered his voice, with a hint of thieving excitement: "Huairou, quick, find a quiet place, I have something extremely important to tell you!"

Seeing his demeanor, Huairou felt as if she were seeing the boy from years ago who tugged at her sleeve, eager to share his newfound knowledge. Her heart softened, and she smiled and said, "Your Highness, come with me."

She led Yunji through a newly cultivated herb garden to a secluded waterside pavilion. It wasn't fully furnished yet, with only a few simple bamboo tables and chairs. Outside the window, a babbling brook flowed and several clumps of freely growing banana trees, lush and green, quiet and deserted.

Upon entering the pavilion, isolated from the outside world, Yunji's tense shoulders seemed to relax instantly. He was no longer the imperial crown prince who needed to maintain his image at all times, but simply Jin Yunji, eager to share secrets with his closest confidants.

"Huairou!" He grabbed Huairou's hand, his eyes slightly reddening, his voice trembling with barely suppressed excitement, "I...I have a mother now! I have a mother now!"

These words, which he had been holding in for a long time, finally burst forth with a sense of immense relief and ecstasy. Before Huairou could react, he carefully took out a scroll wrapped in bright yellow brocade from his bosom, handling it as gently as if it were a priceless treasure.

"Look, look..." he stammered, his fingers even trembling slightly, as he slowly unfurled the scroll on the bamboo table.

The painting slowly unfolds, gradually revealing the face of a woman in palace attire. The artist's skill is exquisite, the brushstrokes delicate and lifelike, a feat no ordinary painter could achieve. The woman in the painting wears elegant palace clothing, her hair lightly styled, her eyebrows like distant mountains shrouded in mist, her eyes like autumn waters rippling, and a gentle, serene smile playing on her lips. She seems to step out of the painting, possessing an aura of tranquility and serenity, treading on shimmering water, surrounded by a peaceful and beautiful halo.

Huairou was initially beaming with genuine relief, happy that Yunji had finally found his mother. However, when her gaze fell entirely on the face of the woman in the painting, her smile froze instantly.

Those eyebrows, those expressions, that slight tilt of the head, that gentle and intelligent look in her eyes… Except for the unfamiliar palace dress she had never worn before, and the elaborate hairstyle she had never styled, the woman in the painting, around twenty years old, bore a striking resemblance to her in the present moment—not exactly the same, but at least seven or eight parts similar! Especially that indescribable aura conveyed through the paper, almost identical!

A tremendous shock shot up her spine and into her head. Huairou's body trembled uncontrollably. She instinctively grabbed the bamboo table beside her, her fingertips turning white from the effort, barely managing to support her nearly collapsing body. Her heart was filled with turmoil, and her mind was in a whirlwind of emotions.

Is the cycle of fate really so unpredictable?

She suppressed the turmoil in her heart and tried her best to keep her voice steady, but the slight tremor in her voice still betrayed the storm raging within her. She couldn't help but call out, her voice carrying an unusual quality that she herself didn't realize: "Your Highness... the silent word 'Mom' was not uttered... I'm so happy for you." Before she finished speaking, tears welled up uncontrollably in her eyes, rolling in her eyes filled with a mixture of laughter and shock, threatening to fall.

"Huairou, look, this is my mother! This is my mother, Zhili!" Yunji was completely immersed in the immense happiness and excitement of recognizing his mother, oblivious to Huairou's momentary loss of composure. He naturally and affectionately pulled the long-absent Huairou closer with one hand, as if seeking comfort in his youth, while his other hand tenderly caressed his mother's face in the painting, his tone filled with filial piety and pride, "She was the woman my father loved most in his life, his rightful first wife! This painting is my father's own work! He said that only he had truly seen what my mother looked like when she was alive, and remembered every expression of hers..."

"Your... Father's handwriting?" Huairou caught this crucial information, her heart gripping as if by an invisible hand. She asked slowly, her voice so soft it was as if she were afraid of disturbing something.

"Yes!" Yunji nodded vigorously, still gazing at the painting, his tone resolute. "Father said you and her... look very alike." He paused, as if just remembering something, and added, "Actually, now that I think about it, when I first met you, I felt an immediate connection with you, and I couldn't help but want to be close to you and trust you. Perhaps... perhaps it's because I still have a vague impression of my mother, and your spirit happens to overlap with that impression..."

Yunji's words struck Huairou like thunderclaps. Her emotions shifted and twisted, like silk being crumpled by an unseen hand. On one hand, she was grateful for this wondrous arrangement by heaven, allowing her to reunite with Yunji, her "mother and son," and to establish such a deep emotional bond—wasn't this a preordained fate? On the other hand, she was shocked and deeply disturbed by the fact that Emperor Zhenjiancheng knew she was being compared to his deceased beloved.

She took a deep breath, trying to make her voice sound like ordinary curiosity: "His Majesty the Emperor... has he seen me?"

Yunji then looked up from the scroll, thought for a moment, and replied nonchalantly, "Probably. After all, this empire belongs to him. Perhaps he saw you somewhere, at a palace banquet, when noblewomen went to court, or on some other occasion, but he just didn't say it. The royal family... always has many spies."

These words made the "Ji Moli" within Huairou, representing reason and the past, feel an unprecedented sense of insignificance and chill. She had always felt that she was insignificant, like a drop in the ocean, not a particularly dazzling existence even in the small world around her. Little did she know that she might have already unknowingly fallen into the eyes of the Emperor, and even... been regarded as someone else's shadow.

Her gaze involuntarily returned to the painting, searching for more clues. When her eyes fell upon the signature in the corner of the scroll and the deep red seal, her breath caught in her throat!

The seal's inscription reads: "Zhen Jian Cheng Yin"!

Although the characters are slightly different and have a unique artistic touch, Huairou would never mistake them! The "Jiancheng Jun" with whom she had discussed practical learning and shared insights several times in the garden and in letters, and who even gave her a warm embrace on that moonlit night... the royal relative she thought he was, an enlightened and learned older brother... his name is actually—Zhen Jiancheng!

The name of the current emperor!

"This mark is...?" Huairou heard a slight, almost imperceptible tremor in her voice; she needed final confirmation.

Yunji followed her gaze and said frankly, "This seal is my father's private seal, 'Zhenjian Chengyin'. He usually uses the national seal to handle state affairs, and this private seal is only used on very private paintings, calligraphy, or letters."

"Seal of Zhen Jiancheng"...Jiancheng Jun...Emperor Zhen Hongyi, courtesy name Jiancheng...

All the clues came together at that moment, like a series of thunderbolts striking down! Huairou felt a dizzying sensation as memories of her time with "Jiancheng Jun" flashed through her mind—his support for her school-running ideas, the profound meaning behind his gift of the "Liyuan" plaque, his soul-searching question under the moon that night, and that irresistible embrace… It turned out that it wasn't admiration or affection at all. All the understanding, support, and even those ambiguous feelings might have been based on—her striking resemblance to the woman in the painting who died young!

A profound sense of loss, a mixture of feeling like she had been blinded by something she already possessed, instantly overwhelmed her. She instinctively released her hand from Yunji's grasp, her fingertips icy cold.

She gave a soft, cold laugh, a laugh filled with endless absurdity and self-mockery, and whispered, "This is the name of Your Highness's father... This... really is your closest relative!" The meaning of her words was complex, and Yunji could not understand their deeper meaning at all, taking it only as her lament that royal status was indeed different.

Yunji looked at her suddenly pale face with confusion, assuming she was just too excited. He remained immersed in the joy of sharing, pulling Huairou to sit down, and began to enthusiastically recount his experiences over the past few years—the vast and magnificent northern grasslands, the amusing stories of his time with Princess Yuanya, the genuine or feigned obedience of his younger brothers after he became crown prince, and the earnest admonitions of the old ministers in the court…

Huairou forced herself to sit down, suppressing all the shock, anger, and sorrow she had been struggling to process regarding "Ji Moli." Looking at Yunji's face, devoid of any gloom and filled with trust and dependence, she felt a complex mix of emotions. She told herself that, no matter what, Yunji was innocent. He cherished this "mother-son" bond so much, and was so overjoyed to have found his mother.

She forced a gentle smile, listening intently to his every word, nodding and responding as needed. She was genuinely happy for him, relieved that this "son" she treated as her own had finally filled the void in her life.

Perhaps, she and Yunji are truly destined to be mother and son. No matter what mysteries and coincidences lie between them, this affection is real and will never change.

However, when her gaze inadvertently swept over the lifelike portrait again, and she saw the eyebrows and eyes of the person in the painting that almost overlapped with her own when she was young, and then thought of the emperor "Jiancheng Jun"... she watched the fragrance of osmanthus wafting from the incense burner in the pavilion, swirling and rising in the air, and finally dissipating into nothingness.

She couldn't help but feel a deep, bone-chilling sadness and coldness rising within her.

Perhaps... to that high and mighty emperor, I was nothing more than a... substitute for his deceased beloved.

This thought, like a cold vine, quietly coiled around her heart, bringing a subtle yet persistent sting. Outside the window, the banana leaves swayed gently in the wind, casting shimmering shadows, much like the restless lake of her heart. But she quickly forgot about her sadness.