Do you also find the profound truth that "water can both carry and capsize a boat" too deep, yet you still remember that "well water can cook the most fragrant rice porridge"?
The aroma of porridge wafting from the imperial kitchen was more genuine than the discussions in the court.
After all, a regent who could say "governing a country is like cooking porridge" must be a person who understands the realities of life, and must be able to understand her silly statement that "water can also be used to cook porridge," right?
The moonlight shone gently down, filtering through the gaps in the carved window lattice and falling on her running footprints.
The footprints, damp with the scent of rain-soaked earth, stretched from the palace pillars toward the warm pavilion, like a string of tiny, translucent, curious footprints.
It's like a key hidden in a child's palm, ready to unlock those old stories hidden in the cracks of the palace walls and steeped in the river of time.
I dug out all those stories about the regent, about fireworks, about growing up, little by little.
Then, sitting on the sable cushions in the Empress Dowager's warm chamber, with the gentle scent of sandalwood incense and a bowl of hot rice porridge, I listened slowly and took notes.
Xin Ziming accompanied Qin Qianluo, who had just been punished by Heaven, as they strolled freely in the light and shadow of the mortal world.
She recalled the scene from before: in the Lingxiao Palace of the Heavenly Palace, the old man of the Heavenly Dao stroked his long, snow-white beard, surrounded by golden light, half coaxing and half pressuring.
"Qianluo, since you have already seen through life and death and survived the tribulation of lightning, why don't you stay in the Heavenly Realm?"
To rule over the order and laws of the four seas and eight wastelands, to live as long as heaven and earth, wouldn't that be far more carefree than wandering the mortal realm?
His words were full of earnestness, saying that "a chosen one should not be wasted," and even the clouds outside the palace seemed to condense a little.
Ke Qianlu simply stood in that golden light, her eyebrows curved, her fingertips casually brushing away the dust of the world that clung to her sleeves.
He politely declined, saying, "The Heavenly Realm has strict rules, and I'm afraid I can't endure them."
It's better to wander the world, see the changing seasons, and taste all the flavors of life; that would be much more carefree.
Thinking of this, Xin Ziming felt as if she had a piece of osmanthus cake soaked in honey in her heart, and a sweet warmth spread from her heart to her limbs.
The smile on her lips was impossible to hide, and even the beauty mark under her eye seemed to brighten.
Nine fluffy fox tails swayed gently behind her, the tips of which were snow-white.
As it swept across the rose branches by the roadside, glistening with morning dew, it carried a delicate, fragrant breeze.
The fragrance, mixed with the sweet scent of dew, attracted bees and butterflies to swirl around its tip, and even the bluestone slabs underfoot seemed to be warmed by the sweet aroma.
The two figures moved as lightly as wisps of smoke, walking and stopping as they passed through the ancient alley paved with bluestone slabs.
The walls in the alley are mottled, revealing the gray bricks underneath. Moss climbs all over the walls along the cracks in the bricks, like a green coat covering the old walls.
The wild chrysanthemums in the corner were in full bloom, a bright yellow expanse. When the wind blew, the petals swayed gently, scattering tiny golden fragments all over the ground.
The youngest son of the Qin family had his hair tied in a high ponytail, the red ribbons of which shimmered in the sunlight. He wore a red cloth bib and ran barefoot in the yard chasing after pink butterflies.
The laughter was as crisp as shattered jade falling into a porcelain bowl, ringing out incessantly.
An elderly man with graying temples sat on a bamboo chair at the entrance of the courtyard. The armrests of the chair were worn smooth. He slowly swayed a palm-leaf fan painted with landscapes.
Tell the children sitting around him fragmented stories passed down from their ancestors.
One moment they'd say, "Our ancestors were once so powerful that they could decide the fate of the nation in the imperial court, and even the emperor had to give them some leeway."
A moment later, he said, "When our ancestors went to the border, they encountered a heavy snowfall, but they still managed to carry provisions across the snow-covered mountains and save all the soldiers in the city."
Although it was imbued with some mystical elements such as "being able to summon wind and rain" and "observing the stars at night," the old man's pride was still evident.
The children listened with wide eyes and clenched fists, asking, "What happened next? What else did our ancestors do?"
Even the old dog at the alley entrance lay down beside them, its ears drooping as it listened intently.
We passed by the imperial palace walls again, where the glazed tiles shimmered in the sunlight, and ivy climbed the vermilion walls, its vibrant green color dazzling.
Outside the wall, the area is thriving with people, and the fields are lush and green. A small figure in bright yellow is squatting in the field, bending down to learn how to identify rice seedlings from an old farmer.
The pearl in her hair was covered in mud, its once round shape now coated in a light brown hue. Her lotus-colored skirt was smeared with grass clippings, but she didn't seem to care.
She rolled up her sleeves to her forearms, revealing her slender, white wrists, and gently poked at the tender green rice seedlings with her fingertips.
The old farmer stroked his beard and said, "Your Highness, look, this is early rice. The leaves are narrower, it fills up quickly, and it ripens first in the autumn."
That was late-season rice; the leaves were wide, the grains were more glutinous, and the porridge made from it was incredibly fragrant.
She listened attentively, nodding her head frequently, occasionally being teased by the old farmer who said, "Your Highness has such delicate skin, aren't you afraid of getting your hands muddy?"
She tilted her head back, revealing two small tiger teeth, and smiled so brightly that her eyes crinkled into crescents, her eyes shining like they held shattered starlight. Even the wild grass on the ridge seemed to sway more merrily with her laughter.
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