Chapter 97: Rumors from later generations, a warning to future generations

Decades later, the teahouses on West Street in Beijing are still bustling. The afternoon sun filters through the window lattices, shimmering onto the eight-immortals table. A storyteller claps the wooden stick, and the packed house of drinkers instantly quiets down, even the crackling of melon seeds fading. This is the story of "Prince Duan's Guilty Concubine," a favorite among young and old. They've heard it dozens of times, yet they still lean forward to sit.

"Back then, the young lady Yun from the Marquis of Loyalty and Bravery was one of the most beautiful women in the capital, proficient in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Unfortunately, she was blind and married to the powerful Prince Duan, Xiao Jin..." The storyteller's voice was rhythmic, and his folding fan gently tapped the table. "But who could have imagined that Prince Duan was blind? He doted on the vicious Shen family, causing the young lady Yun's family to be destroyed and even losing her unborn child. In the end, she was forced to jump from the palace wall, and it took a year to find her body..."

A few sighs echoed from the teahouse. The old woman by the window wiped her eyes, her handkerchief wet. "What a sin! Miss Yun was such a good person, how could she end up like this? Prince Duan deserved it too. He spent the rest of his life as a madman guarding a pile of bones, and finally died of hunger and cold in his thatched cottage. This is all karma!"

"That's right!" The scholar at the next table put down his teacup, shook his head and sighed. "I heard that Prince Duan later threw away his military talisman and throne to atone for his sins, knelt in the rain outside Miss Yun's courtyard, and even cut himself with a knife. But was it any use? Once a heart is broken, even the kingdom presented to you can't warm it back. What do you call this? This is 'bullying the weak will eventually be punished, and missing out on true love will bring a lifetime of regret.'"

The storyteller slapped the wake-up stick again, his voice deepening. "Did you all know that before Miss Yun died, she carved words in blood on the broken wood? 'Xiao Jin, Sui Yue Chen Xin, you and I owe each other nothing!' These twelve short words pierce the heart more than a knife! She didn't even want to leave him any more hatred, which shows how deeply she was hurt..."

The room was filled with people talking again. Some scolded Xiao Jin for being foolish, some lamented Yun Zhi's miserable life, and a young girl, her eyes red, pulled her lover beside her and said, "Don't be like that Prince Duan. If you dare to betray me, I... I will never forgive you even if I die!"

The lover quickly coaxed her: "Silly girl, how could I betray you? This Prince Duan is a lesson for me. I dare not follow his example."

The storyteller observed the reactions of the audience, closed his folding fan, and slowly concluded: "This story, even if told to this day, isn't just for fun. It's to tell you: Don't bully the weak, and don't miss out on true love. People's hearts are not made of stone; they're hard to warm, but once they're frozen, they can never be warmed again. The tragedy of Prince Duan and Miss Yun is a wake-up call for the world!"

As the sun set, the teahouse's guests gradually dispersed. The old woman took her granddaughter's hand and walked along the outer wall of the imperial palace, deliberately avoiding the section of wall where Yun Zhi had jumped. The granddaughter asked curiously, "Grandma, why do we have to go around it?"

The old woman touched her granddaughter's head and lowered her voice, "Silly child, this section of the wall is not clean. I heard that on rainy or snowy nights, people can hear a man sobbing at the foot of the wall. He cries miserably, as if he's calling out 'Zhi'er' or 'I was wrong'... The older generation says it's the soul of Prince Duan, still trapped here and hasn't left yet."

The little granddaughter shrank back into her grandmother's arms, afraid to look at the vermilion palace wall. The afterglow of the setting sun fell on the palace wall, staining it a dark red, much like the blood that had seeped onto the bluestone slabs when Yun Zhi jumped.

As the night deepened, the streets of the capital were deserted, leaving only the wind beneath the palace walls, rustling fallen leaves. Occasionally, a night watchman, returning late, would quicken his pace as he passed this section of the wall, banging his clapper even louder, muttering, "Every wrong has its perpetrator, every debt has its creditor. Let those who need to leave leave. Don't be trapped here any longer..."

But in the wind, one can still seem to hear a faint whimper, as light as a sigh, and as if confessing, floating intermittently under the palace walls, floating in the silent night, year after year, without stopping.

Some people said that it was Xiao Jin’s soul, still looking for his Zhier, and trying to atone for his mistakes in the past; some people said that it was Yun Zhi’s soul, still sighing for the injustice of the Yun family; some people said that it was just the sound of the wind, the regret in the hearts of the people, which turned into this sobbing sound.

But no matter what it is, this legend of "Prince Duan's Guilty Concubine" is like a scar engraved in the bones of the capital, reminding generation after generation of people - don't bully the weak, don't miss out on true love, otherwise, even if you spend the rest of your life regretting it, you can't get back the past time, and you can't replace the person who was let down.

The palace walls are still towering, their vermilion surfaces already mottled, but that tragic past, that legend of love and hate, sin and punishment, will continue to be passed down, until long, long after...