But the longing in her heart was like a root buried in her bones and blood, sprouting and growing in her heart year after year.
Even after enduring war and the erosion of time, it has never diminished in the slightest.
It was only later that I realized that her past life was not that of a general who "fought for the king and fought for the title" as defined by the Tianxuan Kingdom, but rather that of a "soldier".
These two words carry less of the power struggles and schemes of the imperial court, and less of the allure of fame and fortune; instead, they convey a greater sense of reverence for the land and a sincere devotion to the people.
That was the resolute determination to rise from the pile of corpses and protect one's homeland after witnessing one's homeland sink in the flames of war and one's compatriots fall in pools of blood.
It is the stubbornness of carrying the flag and charging into the most intense artillery fire, even if only one soldier and one blood-stained tattered flag remain.
They have the words "homeland" etched into their very bones, willing to turn to ashes to illuminate the path ahead for their homeland.
This weight was heavier than any jewel-encrusted military medal in the Tianxuan Kingdom, pressing on her heart for over twenty years.
From the moment she was born with memories of her past life, to the moment she wielded her sword to defend Chengxiao and fought bloody battles against the Japanese islands, those memories were forever etched in her soul.
It became an obsession she couldn't let go of, even across life and death, and she would even shout "Protect the home" in her dreams.
After returning to the capital, I would often look out at the moon at night and wonder what kind of environment could nurture such a person.
She possessed a pure and untainted kindness. When she squatted in the Imperial Garden to feed the injured gray sparrows, her fingertips moved so gently as if she were afraid of breaking glass.
Even when speaking, I softened my tone, afraid of startling the little creature huddled in my palm, its feathers still stained with blood.
Once, when a palace maid tried to drive away an injured gray sparrow, she stood in front of her and said earnestly, "It is also a small life."
The soft light in her eyes could melt the winter snow, and even the moonlight falling on her shoulders seemed to grow warmer.
But when faced with open and covert attacks in the court and sword fights on the battlefield, she can instantly shed all her softness and use her intelligence and keen insight to see through the vitals.
Back then, when the Japanese pirates sent a letter feigning a desire for peace, the entire court was deceived by the promise of "never committing the same offense again."
Even several elderly ministers with white hair advised the emperor to "stop while he's ahead and allow the people to rest and recuperate," but she stood in the center of the Golden Palace, pointing to the words "ceding islands to seek peace" in the letter.
He sneered, "This is a delaying tactic! The Japanese are wolves in sheep's clothing. If we back down today, they will surely come back and attack our Tianxuan people again!"
As he finished speaking, his fingertips poked the letter until it crumpled, and the sharpness in his eyes silenced the entire hall.
Even the shrewd and calculating Grand Tutor stroked his beard and praised her, saying, "Her eyes are as sharp as knives, and her mind as clear as a mirror; this is truly a blessing from heaven."
Such a complex and pure nature is both amazing and unforgettable.
Like a piece of Hetian jade that holds a warm glow, it can withstand the test of time and retain the tenderness in one's heart, making it unforgettable once seen.
Later, we returned in triumph together. Tianxuan was renamed "Chengxiao". On the day the new emperor ascended the throne, the sound of firecrackers throughout the city shook the windows.
Red silk was laid out from the palace gate all the way to the city gate, and the air was filled with the sweet aroma of sugar cakes and candied fruits.
Children ran through the streets carrying lanterns, and merchants hung up signs that read "Long Live Chengxiao." Even the usually solemn streets and alleys were bustling with activity.
She married that old fox Su Jinyun," while I continued to bury myself in military affairs, dealing with border reports, military drills, training new recruits, and repairing weapons.
He was burdened with countless tasks and responsibilities, keeping him so busy he barely had time to breathe.
Sometimes, they would come down from the training ground with sweat still clinging to their armor and dust accumulating in the gaps between their armor plates.
Before he could even remove his armor, his personal guards rushed him to a meeting, carrying newly delivered maps.
I had barely closed my eyes at night, my head not even touching the pillow, when I was woken up by an urgent military call. I didn't even have time to drink a cup of hot tea.
They could only chew on cold, hard rations and ride fast horses to the military camp.
She also had a tough time, dealing with trivial matters inside and outside the court, the problems of people's livelihood and governance, disaster relief funds for disaster areas, and repair plans for river works—none of which allowed for the slightest carelessness.
Once, I was returning home from the military camp late at night when I passed by the Prince Zhao's residence. I saw that the light in her study was still on, and her figure was reflected on the window paper as she wrote at her desk.
Sometimes she would furrow her brow in thought, sometimes she would pick up her pen and write quickly, and occasionally you could hear her discussing things in hushed tones with Su Jinyun, mixed with the rustling sound of her flipping through documents.
The sound traveled through the night, as light as a feather, yet so heavy it was heart-wrenching.
We're both in Kyoto, breathing the same air under the same sky, yet we barely have time to sit down, brew a pot of tea, and have a proper conversation.
At most, they would meet briefly at the palace gate after the court session, exchanging a few words such as "Take care, don't overwork yourself."
They then turned around, one heading towards the military camp and the other towards the Prince's mansion, each embarking on their own busy futures.
I always want to ask her about her homeland in her previous life, to know if the sun and moon there are warmer than those in Chengxiao, and if there are peach blossoms covering the mountains and fields in spring.
A gust of wind blows and the petals fall all over your clothes, making you feel like you're walking on pink clouds, and even the air is filled with a sweet fragrance.
In autumn, are there golden rice fields, with heavy ears of rice bending their backs, and golden waves rising when the wind blows? The laughter of farmers harvesting can be heard far and wide.
I want to know if the "China" in her memory really had the bustling "ten-mile-long street", lined with shops and teeming with people.
The vendors selling sugar paintings, sachets, and storytelling created a lively scene that was hard to look away from.
There is the warmth of "ten thousand lights", when night falls, every household lights up, and the shadows of families reunited are reflected in the windows.
I wonder if the "rain of her hometown" that she often mentions in her dreams really carries the fragrance of earth and splashes fine water droplets when it falls on the bluestone slabs.
The rain pattered softly, like whispering secrets, and after the rain, moss would sprout from the cracks in the stone slabs, exuding vitality.
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