Late spring sunlight streamed through the window lattice, casting dappled shadows on the rosewood dressing table. Su Jinli sat before the mirror, her maid, Wanyun, removing the pearl hairpins from her temples. A red gold and kingfisher-embellished hairpin gently fell, the pearls on the hairpin's tip shimmering softly in the light. Suddenly, something struck her, and she waved Wanyun away. "I can do it myself. Go to the front yard and see if Xiaoyue'er is practicing calligraphy."
Wanyun withdrew, leaving Su Jinli alone in the room. She walked to the antique display case and her eyes fell on the dusty pearwood box on the top shelf. The corners of the box were intricately carved with entwined lotus patterns, and the petals still had traces of faded vermilion lacquer. It was a relic left by her mother, and she had rarely opened it since she married into the Jiang family.
She tiptoed to remove the wooden box. As her fingertips touched the surface, years of dust fell. She gently wiped it with a handkerchief, and the passage of time between the carved patterns seemed to become clearer. She remembered her mother, before she died, pressing the box into her hands. Her breath was weak, but her eyes were firm. "Li'er, keep it well. It contains my thoughts for you."
The brass buckle clicked softly. The moment the lid opened, a whiff of stale incense mixed with the musty smell of paper filled the air. Inside, neatly stacked, were several silver hairpins inlaid with filigree gems, a mutton-fat jade square, and a paper package wrapped in layers of oilcloth.
Su Jinli picked up the paper package, which felt slightly rough to the touch. Unwrapping the oilcloth, she found a letter inside. The paper had long since yellowed and become brittle, its edges frayed with fine, rough edges, yet the neatness and grace of the original handwriting still resonated. Her fingertips gently brushed across the paper, as if she could reach through time and touch the cool, gentle touch of her mother's fingertips.
"My son Jinli,
When you read this letter, I will no longer be alive. You are still in your infancy, and even though I am reluctant to let you go, I have no choice but to let you go..."
The handwriting gradually changed from its initial steady pace to a shaky one, the ink varying in shade. It was obvious that it was written while seriously ill, strained to keep going. Su Jinli's vision blurred, and tears dripped onto the page, leaving a small dark mark.
"...The harem is treacherous, and your father is too busy with official duties to care for you. The only thing I'm worried about is you. My son, remember, at all times, you must keep your heart true to yourself and not be swayed by others. You are the daughter of the prime minister's family, and you should have the integrity of a legitimate daughter, neither humble nor overbearing, and be brave enough to take responsibility..."
Reading this, she couldn't help but choke up. In her previous life, she had forgotten her mother's advice, yielding step by step to Liu's schemes, living like a shadow. It wasn't until the day of her rebirth, when she overturned the teacup at her coming-of-age banquet, that she truly understood the weight of the word "character."
"...If you encounter difficulties in the future, don't endure it. Come back and tell your father. Although he may seem indifferent, he has you in his heart. And your younger brother, although young, is your only support. You must support each other..."
Suddenly, Su Heng's childhood flashed before her eyes. The little boy who always followed her around, calling her "Sister" in a baby voice, had grown into a capable marquis, yet he was still the "little bully" who would take the knife for her. Remembering her brother's boast this morning about teaching a street thug a lesson for her, she couldn't help but burst into laughter, but the tears only rolled harder.
"...I don't ask for you to be rich and powerful, I just hope you can live a peaceful and smooth life, find a good partner, and live a free and easy life. Don't worry, take care.
Mother character
The last "word" was written with such force that the ink practically seeped through the paper, as if the mother had exhausted her last ounce of strength. Su Jinli pressed the letter tightly to her chest, as if to bring her closer to her mother's heartbeat. Her mother's face had long faded from her memory, but only this letter, carrying a warmth that transcended life and death, reminded her of the depth of her love.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying?"
A familiar voice rang out at the door. Jiang Yan walked in carrying a lunch box. Seeing Su Jinli holding a piece of letter with red eyes, he quickly put down the lunch box and walked over to her. He saw the yellowed letter and instantly understood what she meant. He reached out and gently pulled her into his arms.
Su Jinli handed him the letter and said in a nasal voice, "I miss my mother."
Jiang Yan unfolded the letter and read slowly in the light from the window. His movements were gentle, as if he were holding some rare treasure. After reading, he didn't say much, but simply patted her back gently with his palm, again and again, with a soothing force.
"I know." His voice was low and gentle. "If Mother is still alive, she would be very happy to see you doing so well now." He wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes with his fingertips. "Look, we have sons and daughters, grandchildren around us, and me..."
"Yeah." Su Jinli nodded, leaning into his embrace, breathing in the faint scent of ink on him, her heart gradually calming down. She recalled her mother's hope in the letter, "finding a true lover," and then looked at Jiang Yan before her, her lips curling up. Yes, not only had she found her true lover, she also possessed the most precious happiness in the world.
"Oh, right," Jiang Yan said, as if he suddenly remembered something. He took out a plate of peach blossom cakes from the lunch box. "The kitchen made them this morning. Would you like to try some?" He picked up a piece and held it to her lips. "The housekeeper just came back and said that the old beggar from the Wang family at the door has disappeared."
"Gone?" Su Jinli took a bite of the peach blossom pastry. The crispy texture was accompanied by a sweet floral fragrance. She looked up in surprise when she heard that.
"Well," Jiang Yan wiped the crumbs from the corner of her mouth, "He said he took the money and steamed buns we gave him, kowtowed three times at the corner gate, and then left with his tattered bag on his back. The gatekeeper, Old Wang, said that when he left, he looked back at the Prime Minister's residence and muttered something about 'retribution' and 'atonement.'"
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