Chapter Five: Peace of Mind
Morning light filtered through the carved window lattices, casting dappled shadows on the sky-blue soft gauze curtains. Huairou awoke to a tranquil atmosphere; the faint, melodious chirping of birds in the distance only amplified the peace of the moment. The cool fragrance emanating from the silver incense burner beside her pillow lingered subtly at her nose, reminiscent of orchids yet not quite, offering a moment of respite for her thoughts.
Moved by the sound, her fingertips touched the smooth silk quilt, the touch even making her fingers feel a little dry. She slowly sat up and opened her palms—ten slender fingers, white as jade, with neatly trimmed nails.
Hearing the commotion, Caiwei, the maid standing outside the tent, gently lifted the curtain. A perfectly timed smile graced her round face: "Miss is awake? Madam instructed that you should rest and not rush to pay your respects." Her voice was clear and melodious, like a wind chime under the eaves.
In Huairou, Caiwei helped her with her washing and grooming. The face reflected in the bronze mirror was indeed that of her youth, free from the vicissitudes and weariness of time. Her skin was radiant, her eyes clear and bright, possessing a kind of carefully nurtured radiance that even she herself found unfamiliar. Her gaze lingered on the mirror, as if captivated by her own delicate and charming appearance. A strange feeling welled up within her, a wish that it was all real, yet tinged with a sense of bewilderment, as if from another world.
When she arrived at the side hall for breakfast, her mother, Lady Xiang, was already sitting at the table waiting for her. Seeing her arrive, she smiled and beckoned, her eyes filled with tender affection. "Did you sleep well last night? You've been away studying for a while now. If you see anything in this courtyard that you don't like, be sure to tell your mother." As she spoke, she personally served her food, all light and delicious porridge and snacks.
"Thank you for your concern, Mother. Everything is fine," Huairou replied softly, sipping her eight-treasure rice porridge. The Xiangwangshi's care was meticulous, completely different from the heavy, anxious, and expectant love she remembered from her biological mother. The warmth here was like the spring sun, gentle and not scorching, bringing a genuine touch of warmth to her heart, which had been steeped in ice for so long.
After the meal, "Mother" led her for a stroll around the mansion. The Guo mansion was spacious, lacking the extreme luxury of a royal garden, but possessing the open and generous air of a military family. Reaching the training ground, they saw the weapons gleaming coldly on the racks. Madam Xiang smiled and said, "Your father and brother often spend their time here. I remember when you were little, you were mischievous and insisted on learning. When you fell, you would run to your mother with tears in your eyes, saying that Qi Yu had bullied you."
Huairou imagined the scene, a slight smile unconsciously playing on her lips. What a carefree life it must have been! Her childhood memories, however, were filled with the loneliness of studying diligently at her desk and the pressure of her parents' anxious gazes. In comparison, this place seemed like a stolen paradise, so beautiful it made her feel guilty.
However, since she was already here, she decided to make the most of this precious time and do everything she truly loved but couldn't do in the past.
She began by enthusiastically renovating her courtyard. The previously neat but somewhat monotonous flowerbed was redesigned; she personally sowed seeds of roses, Chinese roses, and orchids, and even cultivated a small vegetable patch in the corner, planting seasonal greens. Rolling up her sleeves, she picked up a small hoe and, ignoring the maids' surprised looks, personally loosened the soil, fertilized, and watered. The fragrance of the earth and the vibrant life of the plants gave her an unprecedented sense of peace and satisfaction.
“Miss, these chores can be done by the servants. Why do you have to do them yourself?” Bizhu, the personal maid, couldn’t help but advise.
Huairou straightened up, wiped the fine beads of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, and smiled brightly: "It's more fun when you do it yourself. Look at these tender shoots, how full of life they are! Watching them grow day by day, blossom and bear fruit, I'm going to eat them myself when they're fully grown!"
Relying on the culinary skills she had accumulated in her previous life, she would often sneak into the kitchen to exchange ideas with the cooks, offering suggestions on how to improve the recipes for several desserts and proposing to try some novel ingredient combinations. When those delicious and visually appealing dishes and desserts were served and received praise from her family, she felt a small, proud sense of accomplishment.
Her mother, Lady Xiang, treated her exceptionally well and was very open-minded. She enthusiastically took this "mother's" hand and strolled through the capital's various markets. In silk shops, she would point to novel fabrics and discuss with her mother how to tailor more elegant and comfortable dresses. At the flower market, she would select seasonal flowers and, back home, arrange them in unique vases, recreating modern floral arrangements from her memory, adorning the tables and desks throughout the mansion and adding vibrant life to the otherwise tranquil residence. Her mother was initially somewhat surprised by these "unusual" actions, but seeing her daughter enjoying herself and her complexion improving day by day, she let her do as she pleased. Occasionally, she would even be amused by her daughter's novel ideas, and the relationship between mother and daughter grew even closer than before.
Of course, what makes her feel most energetic is the time she spends with her brother Qi Yu. "Such a handsome brother, I have to make good use of him."
"Brother, teach me to ride a horse!" One day, she tugged at Qi Yu's sleeve, her eyes sparkling as she pleaded.
Qi Yu looked at his younger sister's heart softening, but deliberately put on a stern face: "Riding a horse is not a game, it's very tiring. You have such delicate skin, what if you fall?"
"I'm not afraid of hardship!" Huairou straightened her back. "Riding a horse is so cool! Women should also have some self-defense capabilities. If we can't win, we can always run away. Besides, galloping on horseback is so liberating! Please teach me!"
Unable to resist her persistent pleading, Qi Yu finally agreed. So, at the horse farm on the outskirts of Beijing, Huairou could often be seen dressed in smart riding attire, gradually learning to trot under her brother's careful guidance, from trembling as she sat on the horse to being able to control the reins. The wind ruffled her hair, sunlight shone on her cheeks flushed with excitement, and her joyful laughter carried far.
Besides horseback riding, Huairou also pestered Qi Yu to teach her some simple martial arts. "Brother, I don't aspire to become a martial arts master, I just want to stay healthy so I won't be completely powerless in a pinch." She sat cross-legged on the stone steps beside the courtyard, learning very seriously. Although her movements were still a bit clumsy, her attitude was earnest. Seeing the determined light shining in his sister's eyes, Qi Yu felt both gratified and amused, and he instructed her even more attentively.
More often than not, Huairou would come alone to that secluded hillside in the back garden of the mansion. There, a large patch of daylilies was planted, and they were in full bloom at the moment, their orange-red flowers blooming passionately, like a magnificent tapestry. Beside the daylilies stood several rows of tall metasequoia trees, their crowns like towers, their branches and leaves spreading out, casting dappled shade on the ground.
Huairou found a soft patch of grass and lay down, letting out a long sigh and stretching her muscles. Beneath her was the faint scent of daylilies, and above her, the sunlight, filtered through the fine needles of the dawn redwood, had become soft. The azure sky was high and clear, with a few wisps of white clouds drifting lazily by. She squinted, shielding her eyes with her hand. She seemed to hear again the urging of her boss from her past life, the competition among colleagues, the endless performance targets… and those days driven and tense by “value” and “usefulness.” So she clenched her fist, as if crushing all the sounds in her ears into dust.
Looking back now, it all seems so distant and unreal. "Why do people have to prove their 'usefulness' all the time?" she murmured, gazing at the sky. "Like these daylilies, they bloom simply because it's the season, following their nature. Like these dawn redwoods, they grow to touch the sunlight and breathe the dew. They exist simply because they exist; they don't need to prove their worth to the world."
“I love my life now,” she said, closing her eyes and feeling the peace and fulfillment within her. “Planting the flowers I love, cooking the food I love, learning the skills I want to learn, being with people who make me feel comfortable… It’s so good to live this relaxed and natural life.”
Only the longing for her "son" caused a dull ache in her heart...
The following afternoon, she used the excuse of studying to stay alone in the study. The room was bright and clean, with writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones neatly arranged on the desk, and a dazzling array of books on the shelves. She casually picked up a copy of the *Classic of Elegance*, its pages yellowed and edges slightly curled, clearly frequently read. Her fingertips brushed the pages, and she picked up a dried osmanthus blossom; though it had lost its freshness, it still retained a faint, sweet fragrance. Just then, her elder brother, Qi Yu, broke the silence from outside the courtyard with his booming voice. He strode into the study, still in his military uniform, travel-worn but spirited. "Huairou, hiding here studying?" he chuckled, casually tapping a book on Huairou's head. Huairou brushed it off, stopping her playful antics, and listened as her brother said, "Today in the palace, I saw that Seventh Prince you asked about last time."
Huairou's heart skipped a beat. She tightened her grip on the book pages slightly, but tried her best to remain calm. She simply looked up at him and pretended to listen.
"I saw the Second Prince and his group from afar, surrounding him and saying something that was definitely not nice." Qi Yu's tone was somewhat dismissive. "The Seventh Prince, on the other hand, remained calm and just stood there quietly, neither arguing nor defending himself."
Her words were like a stone thrown into water, rippling through Huairou's heart. She could almost see that slender boy, standing silently like a lone pine tree amidst the crowd's encirclement. His restraint, so different from his age, inexplicably tightened her heart, bringing with it a touch of inexplicable pity and... indignation.
"And then?" She heard her own voice, softer than usual.
"What could I do? I couldn't just watch the princes fight." Qi Yu shrugged. "After I stepped forward and bowed respectfully, they dispersed." He looked at Huairou, his eyes filled with concern. "Speaking of which, the Seventh Prince is indeed lonely in the palace. If you see him again, a simple greeting will suffice. The matter of choosing an heir is still undecided, and there are many troubles surrounding the princes. We, the sons of the Guo family, must be mindful of our duties as subjects and always be cautious, so as not to cause unnecessary trouble for Father and Mother."
Huairou bowed her head respectfully and replied, "What you say is very true, brother." The ripples in her heart caused by hearing about Yunji's situation were not suppressed by this admonition, but rather seemed to remind her once again. Now she was Guo Huairou, the daughter of the Minister of War, and this identity seemed... not entirely useless.
As night deepened, she dismissed the maids and entered the back garden alone. The moonlight, like water, poured over the pavilions and towers, and the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the wind. She stood by the lotus pond, gazing at the moon's reflection in the water, its fragments of conversation about Yunji that day, intertwined with his indifferent and aloof demeanor that day.
She returned to her study, ground ink, and spread out paper; the fragrance of ink filled the air. She picked up her brush, dipped it in ink, and let her emotions flow from the tip of her pen. Using the metaphor of a solitary orchid in a secluded valley, she wrote of its unique and elegant beauty, its steadfast heart, and how, though living in solitude, it still yearned for the care and understanding of the gentle breeze. The poem was finished; the ink was still wet. She gently placed the poem beneath a stack of books, as if hiding a secret not to be shared with outsiders.
A few days later, during a poetry class at the academy, Huairou took out the poem, which Binghui inadvertently glimpsed. He read it carefully, and his eyes gradually revealed appreciation. He exclaimed, "Huairou's poem has a clear and elegant style, and lofty sentiments. Especially the line 'If the gentle breeze understands my feelings, it will linger for me,' is ethereal and profound, truly ingenious! May I take it with me to share with two or three classmates?" Huairou nodded, and thus the poem began to circulate among the students in their small circle.
By chance, a few days later, the headmaster of Qingshan Academy mentioned this poem when he came to Jinxiu Palace to drink tea and discuss poetry with the Grand Tutors. He praised his student's character for not being interested in extravagance and for having the demeanor of a hermit.
The poem thus reached the Brocade Palace, where the Seventh Prince, Yunji, was standing quietly in the corridor awaiting his lesson. He overheard this conversation. When the name "Guo Huairou" faintly drifted over, his hand holding the book paused almost imperceptibly. He remained standing with his eyes lowered, his expression calm, but a small stone had been thrown into his heart.
He silently recited the line, "If the gentle breeze could understand my heart, it would linger for me," and his cold heart seemed to be stirred by a soft spring breeze, rippling with the most subtle waves. In this deep palace, everyone was driven by self-interest, every word and action laced with purpose; he had grown accustomed to being ignored and judged. But these lines of poetry, like a glimmer of light, crossed the palace walls, bringing a kind of understanding and solace entirely unrelated to self-interest. This thought flashed through his mind, leaving a faint trace in his heart.
That night, Huairou gazed up at the bright moon in the sky, recalling the poems that had circulated during the day, and a touch of "deep love for her son" stirred within her. If that gentle breeze could carry her small sentiment to a corner of the palace, letting him know that beyond these vermilion gates, there was someone who cared for him not because of his status, but because of him personally, that would be more than enough. She turned, her skirt lightly brushing the stone steps, and walked towards the warmly lit interior, her steps carrying a subtle lightness and certainty more pronounced than usual.
A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of tuberose. The moonlight bathed her, elongating her slender figure.
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