Chapter Thirty-Eight: Ruler and Subject, Father and Son
The sound of hooves pounded against the bluestone imperial road of the capital like a torrential rain, breaking the tranquility beneath the walls of the imperial city as it drew nearer. Yunji, clad in black riding attire, travel-worn, rode his steed with all four hooves off the ground, galloping towards the palace. Behind him, a troop of elite cavalry followed closely, their armor reflecting a cold gleam in the early summer sun. Three years had passed; he had finally returned from the northern border. The pent-up longing in his heart, like a wild horse breaking free of its reins, yearned to see immediately the one with whom he had always discussed the world and shared trivial matters in his letters—Guo Huairou.
However, palace rules were strict, and the order between emperor and subject, father and son, could not be broken. He reined in his horse, dismounted nimbly at the palace gate, tossed his whip to the approaching eunuch, and walked straight towards the inner palace without stopping. He had to see his father first; this was the rule, and also his responsibility as a prince.
"Your subject Yunji greets Your Majesty!" Guided by the chief eunuch, Yunji entered the Southern Study, where the emperor handled state affairs. He lifted his robes and respectfully performed a deep bow.
The study was filled with the sweet scent of sandalwood incense. The emperor, bent over his large rosewood desk reviewing memorials, looked up at the sound. Time seemed to stand still. Three years had passed since they last met, and the emperor carefully examined his son kneeling before him. The winds and sands of the northern frontier had weathered his once somewhat frail features; his skin was darker, his brows held a resolute expression, and his posture was more upright and sturdy than a pine tree. Only his eyes remained clear and bright, strikingly similar to the person he remembered.
"Get up quickly, let me take a good look at you." The emperor put down his vermilion brush, his voice tinged with barely perceptible excitement. He dismissed the attendants around him, leaving only the father and son in the large study. He rose, walked around the imperial desk, and stood before Yunji, patting his son's shoulder firmly. The solid touch filled him with a myriad of emotions. "Good! Good! Congratulations, my son, on your successful return!"
The phrase "returning after success" encapsulates countless hardships and achievements untold to outsiders. Yunji spent three years in the northern border, ostensibly for training, but in reality, he was inspecting the border on behalf of the emperor, stabilizing the army's morale, and coordinating relations with neighboring tribes. The dangers involved were something that father and son tacitly understood.
A palace attendant brought out warmed wine and dishes, which were set out in the warm pavilion to one side of the study. The emperor pulled Yunji to sit down and personally poured him a cup of wine. "Come, tell me, what new things have you seen and heard in the Northern Frontier these past three years?"
Father and son drank together, and the barrier between them gradually melted away in the warm wine and caring words. Yunji spoke of the magnificent scenery of the frontier, the hardships and loyalty of the soldiers guarding the border, the generosity and simplicity of the tribal peoples, and also recounted several encounters with bandits and their narrow escapes. His tone was calm, but the emperor could sense the lurking danger beneath the surface; the near-death experience made his life all the more precious. He watched his son speak eloquently, his eyes filled with both paternal pride and a complex mix of guilt.
After several rounds of drinks, the emperor stood up and said, "I'm getting restless staying in this study all day. Come with me for a walk in the Imperial Garden."
It was early summer, and the Imperial Garden was a riot of color with blooming flowers and lush greenery. The Taiye Pond rippled with clear water, and willows swayed gently along its banks. Father and son strolled slowly along the white marble railing, enjoying this rare moment of tranquility. A small boat with its oars lay idle on the pond. On a sudden impulse, the Emperor said with a smile, "It's been a long time since I've gone boating. Ji'er, accompany your father for a walk in the middle of the lake."
Yunji readily agreed, personally helping the emperor onto the small boat. He then picked up the oar and gently rowed the boat away from the shore, drifting towards the shimmering center of the lake. A gentle breeze carried the fragrance of lotus leaves. The emperor poured a cup of plum wine from his silver wine pot, took a small sip, and the tart yet sweet taste seemed to evoke memories deep within him.
He was silent for a moment, gazing into the distance where the water and sky met, then suddenly spoke, his voice low and gentle: "Jill, these past three years away... have you missed your mother?"
Yunji's oars paused slightly. Mother… this title, in his life, was more of a vague yet warm symbol. He lost his mother at a young age, and over the years, only a hazy figure remained in his mind, an outline with a faint smile. That longing had long since seeped into his very bones, becoming an unspoken, ever-present presence. It didn't surface at specific times, but rather quietly crept into his heart when he was alone, when he saw others enjoying the company of their families, when he achieved something and had no one to share it with.
He was momentarily at a loss for words to express these complex emotions. Choosing his words carefully, he said softly, “Father, your son… naturally misses you. But as time has passed, Mother’s appearance has become somewhat blurred in my mind. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I think that Mother’s love may have long been integrated into my bones and blood, becoming a part of my body. When I look at myself, she is also looking at me. Whenever I hold the jade walnut left by Mother and examine it carefully, it always seems to sense my feelings. In winter, it feels warm in my palm, and in summer, it feels cool against my skin. I think Mother must also be thinking of me, no matter where she is.”
The emperor listened quietly, his eyes revealing deep affection and an indescribable sense of remembrance. Looking at his son's increasingly striking resemblance to his deceased wife, the secret that had been weighing on his heart for over a decade had finally reached its moment. He set down his wine cup; the small boat swayed gently in the middle of the lake, the only sound the soft lapping of the water against the hull.
"Yunji," the emperor's voice was unusually calm, yet carried immense power, "In truth, your mother was my first wife. And you are not the age known to the world, but rather my first prince, my... eldest legitimate son."
"Clang!" The oar slipped from Yunji's hand and slammed against the gunwale. He leaned back violently, the back of his head hitting the hard plank with a dull thud. But he felt no pain; he was completely stunned by the sudden truth. The eldest son?! What did this mean? It meant he wasn't the unknown seventh prince, uninvolved in the power struggles, but the most legitimate heir by the law!
The Emperor reached out to steady his son, who was on the verge of losing his composure. His gaze remained gentle, even carrying a hint of relief in his smile. "Your mother was the love of my life. Back then, when I was a hostage in a neighboring country, living under someone else's roof, she never abandoned me, relying on me for survival in a foreign land. We were childhood sweethearts, married in our youth, and soon after, you were born." His voice drifted into distant memories, tinged with sweetness and profound sorrow. "Later... the political situation became treacherous, and our whole family was hunted down by villains. In the nick of time, your mother... to save me, shielded me from a fatal arrow, and died in my arms..."
The small boat drifted gently on the water, seemingly unable to bear the weight of these heavy memories. The emperor's words flowed like a gentle stream, slowly recounting the history that had been deliberately buried. He knew that concealing Yunji's identity all these years was both to protect him from the open and hidden attacks brought about by his early loss of his mother and his status as the eldest son, and also an escape from the pain of losing his wife.
Yunji listened in a daze, his mind blank. He realized that behind his father's background lay such profound love and sacrifice. He didn't want to interrupt his father, nor could he, so he could only listen silently, feeling the undiminished sorrow and love in his father's words.
"...I know that this marriage to Princess Yuanya is not your wish." The emperor's tone shifted, returning to reality. "Just like back then, in order to stabilize the court and protect the lives of my son, your mother's clan, and me, I had to marry many women I didn't love and had never even met. They entrusted their happiness to me, gambling with the fate of their entire clan. As a ruler, I have no reason not to treat them well and give them the honor they deserve. As a father, I need to protect you even more, keeping you away from the power struggles and intrigues, protecting you from the harm caused by their interests, so that you can have a relatively peaceful and smooth childhood and adolescence."
Yunji silently picked up the oar and mechanically rowed the small boat toward the opposite bank, stroke by stroke. At this moment, his emotions were extremely complex. Shock, realization, deep remembrance and respect for his mother, understanding of his father's years of forbearance, and uncertainty about his own future fate were all intertwined, like a spilled bottle of mixed flavors.
As the small boat docked, the emperor stepped onto the pier first, turning back to his still somewhat dazed son and saying, "Haven't you always wanted to see your mother's face again... Come with me."
The father and son walked one after the other through a quiet bamboo grove. At the end of the winding path, a small and elegant courtyard appeared, clearly a highly secluded spot within the Imperial Garden. The emperor took an ancient bronze key from his robes and opened a seemingly ordinary wooden door.
Inside the door, a completely different world unfolded. The room was warm and elegantly furnished, spotless and bright, showing no signs of long-term neglect. Most striking were the dozens of paintings hanging on the walls. Directly opposite the door was a meticulously detailed portrait of a woman. The woman in the painting wore elegant court attire, her eyes gentle, and a smile playing on her lips; her bearing and charm bore a striking resemblance to Yunji!
Yunji's breath hitched, and his steps moved forward involuntarily. One painting after another... The women in the paintings were depicted in various poses: some gazing into the distance from a railing, some playing the zither and reciting poetry, some lost in thought with a scroll in hand, and some smiling gently while holding a flower... Each posture was different, yet they all revolved around the same theme—depicting the details of his mother's life. The brushstrokes were delicate, the emotions were rich, and every stroke was infused with the artist's endless love and longing.
"These... these are all portraits of my mother?" Yunji's voice trembled.
The emperor nodded silently, his gaze lingering on the paintings, as if he could see that vivid and lively figure through them.
Yunji gazed at the painting step by step, greedily absorbing the image of his mother's long-faded face. He saw how much the woman in the painting resembled himself, her features and expression so closely mirroring his own. He saw the gentleness and resilience flowing in her blood. The longing and lack of maternal love that had been hidden deep within his heart for so many years finally found a tangible form in this moment. Tears welled up unexpectedly, blurring his vision, and he couldn't help but choke out a soft cry: "Mother..."
As he approached a portrait near the inner room, his steps abruptly halted. A pendant worn by the woman in the painting at her waist immediately caught his eye—it was an exquisitely carved, lustrous jade walnut! Exactly the same as the one he had treasured close to his heart, the one he had given to Huairou three years ago when they parted!
The Emperor's voice rang out behind him at just the right moment, carrying an all-knowing calm and a touch of fatalistic感慨: "Actually, you have already met her. Perhaps it is the cycle of fate, or perhaps it is that what is unforgettable will surely resonate. The person you felt an instant connection with in the crowd, the one you were willing to treat with your heart and give you such a precious gift, her spirit and temperament are a reflection of yourself and your mother. That walnut was a memento left to you by your mother, and by giving it away, isn't it also a kind of destiny?"
A thunderous boom echoed in Yunji's mind. In an instant, every moment he had spent with Huairou over the past six years surged into his heart like a tidal wave. Those ordinary yet warm days in the palace, the exhilarating conversations in their correspondence, the interesting daydreams about the world, the people's livelihood, and the future, her unwavering encouragement and support when he was lonely in the northern borderlands, the inexplicable, deep and shallow longings that welled up in the dead of night… It turned out that nothing escaped his father's eyes! He had inexplicably felt that the jade walnut perfectly matched Huairou's temperament, as if the object was meant for her. So, at the moment of parting, almost instinctively, he had given her the most precious token of his heart, a symbol of his mother's love. It turned out that his pursuit and yearning for maternal love had been guiding him all along, leading him to search for an embodiment that resonated with it.
"Father!" Yunji was in a state of turmoil. He turned around abruptly, wanting to explain something, but felt that any words would be pale and powerless at this moment.
The emperor shook his head, his gaze deep, indicating that everything was understood without words. He understood his son's shock and confusion, but he had more important matters to discuss, matters more concerning the future of the empire.
“Jier,” the Emperor’s tone became solemn again, “I know what Huairou means to you. She is intelligent, open-minded, insightful, yet retains a childlike heart. In some mysterious way, she is destined to be with you, whether it is out of a projection of your feelings for your mother or because of your shared interests, she has given you indispensable comfort and support when you needed it most. However,” he changed his tone, with an undeniable calmness, “she may not necessarily be your destiny.”
Yunji's heart tightened, and he looked up at his father.
"You are the eldest son of the empire, the only legitimate son I have revealed your true identity to. On your shoulders lies the responsibility of an emperor, the weight of this vast empire, and the well-being of countless people." The emperor's voice was not loud, but every word carried immense weight, striking Yunji's heart. "Of course, you can also choose to refuse. I will not force you. You can continue to be your 'Seventh Prince,' living a carefree life. I will arrange everything for you, ensuring your lifelong wealth and peace. This is my unique favoritism as your father towards you, and also towards your deceased mother."
The Emperor took a few steps closer, gazing into Yunji's eyes, his tone becoming deep and serious: "But you must think carefully. Compared to your brothers, if you relinquish your right to the throne and choose to back down, your future situation may be even more difficult than it is now. In the imperial family, there are no fathers and sons, let alone brothers. At that time, everything you cherish—peace, friendship, even…the people you love—may be put in danger and lost because of your retreat. This is the price that one must pay for being born into an imperial family."
Yunji fell completely silent. From a young age, due to his mother's lack of prominence, he had grown accustomed to not vying for anything, and was even fortunate enough not to be seen as a rival by his ambitious older and younger brothers. His wish was simple: to be a useful person to the country, not to be neglected or forgotten by his father and court officials. His only deepest fantasy was to be loved and respected by the people, to live in the center of society, and to feel the warmth of being needed and recognized. He never dared to covet that supreme position; it was too heavy a burden for him, and too far away.
"Why... me? Father." Yunji mustered his courage and asked the question that lingered in his heart. "If... if I weren't the eldest son, if my elder brother were the legitimate eldest son, would you... still choose me?"
Upon hearing this, the emperor did not answer immediately. He pondered for a moment, as if seriously considering the question, and then his tone suddenly became relaxed, even carrying a hint of the emperor's unique, almost domineering teasing: "Hmm... establishing the heir apparent, the eldest son, and the most virtuous—there are many rules, but..." He paused, looking at his son, a sly glint in his eyes and an unwavering certainty, "ultimately, it is your father who makes the decision."
This almost "willful" answer caught Yunji off guard. He paused, then chuckled, forcibly swallowing back the tears welling in his eyes. At that moment, he felt not the oppressive power of an emperor, but the unreserved trust and affection of a father.
The emperor smiled, patted Yunji on the shoulder, and put his arm around him as they slowly walked out of the studio filled with memories. Back in the sunlight, watching the koi chasing each other in Taiye Pond, the emperor asked as if casually, "Yunji, look at everything in this world. Aren't they all full of vitality and striving to be the best? From the koi in the pond to the wild beasts in the mountains, they are all like that."
Yunji followed his father's gaze and nodded.
"But," the emperor changed the subject, "think about it, no matter how strong or agile they are, what would happen if they were separated from the ubiquitous air, the water that nourishes all things, and the sunlight that shines on the earth?"
Yunji seemed to have grasped something, but he couldn't quite understand it.
The emperor continued to patiently explain: "The way of being a ruler is both simple and difficult. Its essence lies not in how dazzling or domineering one should be, forcing all things to submit. On the contrary, the way of being a ruler lies in respecting the way of Heaven, conforming to nature, and making oneself 'formless,' transforming into the water, air, and sunlight that carry and transform all things. Let fish swim freely with the help of water, let birds fly freely in the sky with the help of the wind, and let the people live in peace and prosperity under the governance of the country, without feeling the heavy burden of power. That is it."
Yunji seemed to understand something. The emperor's existence was not for self-aggrandizement, but for the benefit of others, for the creation of a prosperous world. But he still had doubts: "But Father, if the principle is really that simple, then my brothers... can't they do it? Why must it be me?"
The emperor shook his head, his gaze sweeping across the distant palaces where the other princes resided, his tone carrying a barely perceptible sigh: "No one knows a son better than his father. Some of your brothers are like raging flames, fierce and impatient, eager to burn everything; some are like the midday sun, dazzling and demanding that all things look up to them; and others have minds like a flood, seemingly calm but actually turbulent, intending to sweep everything away... to change the way of heaven, to make all things in the world obey their will, that is their nature. If this nature were used in the jungle, to compete with all beasts for survival, they might become a regional overlord. But if they were allowed to manipulate all things and govern the world, in the end, violating the natural laws of life, it would likely all be in vain, leaving only scorched earth and devastation."
Yunji understood. The emperor had chosen not the most sharp-tongued, not the most scheming, nor the one who outwardly resembled a "wise ruler," but someone whose heart possessed the qualities of water and sunshine—inclusive, nurturing, and giving life, yet without taking credit or showing off.
He looked at his father, a final trace of uncertainty still lingering in his eyes. The emperor, however, turned his back, gazing at the majestic eaves of the palace and the distant, dark green mountains, and spoke slowly, his voice not loud, yet clearly reaching Yunji's ears, striking directly at the softest, most vulnerable part of his heart:
“Jill, you’re not actually weak. You’re just… never sure if you’re the one I love most in my heart.”
Boom! All those subtle, unnoticed grievances, anxieties, and self-doubts accumulated over the years crumbled instantly before that one sentence. So Father had known all along!
He clearly heard his father, in an unwavering tone, bring his more than ten years of forbearance and waiting to a perfect close:
"You are. Your mother is. You have always been the most important and beloved people in my heart."
The waters of Taiye Pond still rippled gently, reflecting the sky and clouds. Yunji stood by the lake, gazing at his father's retreating figure, then turning back to look at the tranquil courtyard where countless portraits of his mother were hidden, his heart filled with mixed emotions. The path ahead seemed clearer, yet also more shrouded in mist. But one thing was certain—some responsibilities he could no longer evade; some choices he had to make himself. And as for Huairou… that figure he so desperately wanted to see now, where would their future be led by this sudden revelation of their true parentage?
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