Chapter Six: Green Hills Never End
In late spring, pear blossoms, like snow, softly fell upon the stone steps of Qingshan Academy. The morning bell tolled gently, startling a few birds under the eaves. The study gradually filled with students in blue robes, the scent of paper and ink mingling with the delicate fragrance of crabapple blossoms outside the window, creating a serene and elegant atmosphere. Huairou sat by the window, holding a copy of the *Zizhi Tongjian* in her hand, but her gaze frequently drifted to the crabapple tree in full bloom outside. She knew in her heart that although she was in the academy, her heart had already flown to that magnificent palace: Jinxiu Palace.
Lu Binghui walked in from outside, his blue robe accentuating his handsome features. He sat down beside Huairou, noticing her absent-mindedness, and chuckled softly, "Distracted again? Your teacher is testing you on the *Book of Rites* today; have you reviewed it?" Huairou snapped out of her reverie, frowning slightly, "Of course I have, but these rites are so complicated; I find them dry and difficult to understand. What's the point of learning them?" Binghui opened the book and said softly, "That's not advisable. Rites are the foundation of one's character, especially for you and me; they should not be neglected."
Huairou turned to look at him and suddenly asked, "Binghui, what books do you think the princes in Jinxiu Palace read on a daily basis?" Binghui's hand holding the pen paused, the ink spreading into a small shadow on the paper. "The princes' studies are naturally much broader. Besides classics, history, philosophy, and literature, they also study military strategy, political discourse, and even diplomatic rhetoric." He looked up at Huairou, "What, you want to go to Jinxiu Palace?"
"Yes." Huairou answered crisply, her voice soft yet clear and firm, like jade striking stone. Binghui was silent for a moment before saying, "We will have the imperial examination in less than a year. If we pass the imperial examination, we can directly participate in the palace examination and obtain official rank, or we can pass the imperial examination to enter the Jinxiu Palace as a prince's study companion. However... it is up to the princes themselves to choose which prince they will become study companions for."
A gentle breeze blew through the window, scattering pear blossoms like snow. Huairou reached out and caught a petal, whispering, "I know. That's why I must work even harder. I must not only pass the imperial examination, but also be chosen by that prince." Binghui gazed at her profile, gilded by the morning light, and suddenly realized that this woman he had known since childhood had, whose eyes held a depth he couldn't decipher.
"And you, what do you intend to do?" Huairou changed the subject. Binghui lowered his eyes, straightened his sleeves, and said calmly, "I still need to consider my father's wishes. If I can pass the imperial examinations and obtain an official position as soon as possible, that would naturally be good. However, being able to go to Jinxiu Palace to accompany the master and have a renowned teacher to guide me would make my path to officialdom and promotion smoother." He paused, his voice tinged with regret, "Huairou, you will eventually have to marry. Women are not allowed to serve as officials in the court. It's a pity that you have wasted your talent in this life."
Huairou smiled gently, a smile that revealed a wisdom beyond her years: "It's no pity. I have no interest in being an official or a minister. I want to be a prince's study companion." She knew in her heart that what she sought was never power or status, but rather the young seventh prince, Yunji, whose face overlapped with her son's.
On a spring afternoon, Huairou often gathered with several classmates in the bamboo grove behind the academy. On this day, Yu Wan'er, the daughter of the Vice Minister of Works, was talking about the latest developments in the court: "I heard that His Majesty has recently fallen ill. Although it is not serious, the princes have become much more active." She lowered her voice, "Especially the Second Prince, who has been frequently visiting the Ministry of War lately, as if he is trying to win over officials."
Su Yun, daughter of the Vice Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, gently waved her fan and interjected, "The Second Prince's mother, Consort Jing's brother, has just been promoted to Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guards. At this critical juncture, it's inevitable that people will have some thoughts." The other girls exchanged knowing smiles, all understanding without uttering a word. Huairou listened quietly, slowly peeling lotus seeds, her mind as clear as a mirror. These private conversations among the young ladies often reflected the true political situation better than the official court reports.
Binghui was also very diligent. He was exceptionally talented and determined to inherit his father's title. However, his father was the current prime minister, and countless eyes were on him. The prime ministership was not a natural inheritance; he had to rely on himself for the first few steps. Huairou liked to visit Binghui, not only because he resembled her husband, but also because Binghui excelled in his studies, shared her interests, and was willing to help her. In private, they would also discuss some secret topics.
One day, during a day off, Huairou brought some newly made pastries to the Lu residence to find Binghui. The candlelight flickered in the study, where Binghui was copying Wang Xizhi's "Preface to the Orchid Pavilion." Seeing her arrive, he put down his brush and smiled, "What delicious treats have you brought today?" Huairou opened the food box; inside were delicate lotus-shaped pastries and almond tea. "Try them," she said. "I had my family make them using a newly developed recipe."
Binghui picked up a lotus-shaped pastry; the layers of flaky pastry were distinct and melted in his mouth. He praised, "Your skill in guiding others is becoming increasingly refined." Huairou smiled and sat down opposite him, asking casually, "Binghui, in your opinion, has His Majesty considered the selection of the Crown Prince?"
Binghui was cautious by nature, but in front of Huairou, he was as affectionate as an older brother. "What, you not only want to go to Jinxiu Palace to improve your skills, but you also want to become the Crown Princess?" he teased, his eyes filled with inquiry. Huairou smiled. Moli, being an experienced woman, couldn't help but find it amusing to see her "husband's" youthful face teasing her. "Not at all," she sipped her tea, "just curious. After all, if I enter Jinxiu Palace in the future, I'll need to know my place."
Binghui knew Huairou's ambitions lay elsewhere, and didn't press the matter. He paused, then answered earnestly, "The current Empress has no children, while the various concubines have given birth to seven princes. Excluding those who died young, four remain. The second prince, Antai, was born to Consort Jing, whose father was the Minister of Rites. The fourth prince, Yingqi, was born to Consort Ning, whose brother was the Vice Minister of Works, and whose father was His Majesty's tutor. The seventh prince, Yunji, lost his mother early; his father was a general from a neighboring country, but unfortunately, his entire family has perished." The Third Prince, Renheng, was born to Consort Qi, the Empress's younger sister. She was the youngest. If the eldest son were to be chosen, it would be the Second Prince, Antai. If the legitimate son, the Fourth Prince, Yingqi, were chosen, he would be closest to the Empress by blood. If the thirteenth prince, Renheng, were chosen, his maternal grandfather was the Emperor's teacher, and the thirteenth prince studied under his grandfather, making him practically a fellow student of the Emperor. The least likely candidate was the Seventh Prince, Yunji. Few in the court knew what his mother looked like. His family's honor was obscured; at most, he would be a prince.
These words, like spring rain nourishing the earth, gently touched Huairou's heart. Without a word, she poured Binghui another cup of tea and asked, "Seventh Prince... is there truly no hope?" Binghui gave her a meaningful look: "Unless a miracle occurs. But who can say for sure about matters of the court?"
Huairou felt a slight stirring in her heart. She didn't hope that Yunji could become the crown prince. As a modern person, she knew the principle that one must bear the weight of a heavy responsibility before wearing the crown. She just vaguely felt that with her current family background and abilities, she might have a chance to help him in some difficult situations.
Seeing Huairou deep in thought, Binghui smiled and said, "You've chosen your future master. If you choose correctly, you'll rise to prominence and bring glory to your family; if you choose incorrectly, your family's career will be bleak, or you might even become wary of your new master." Huairou then snapped out of her reverie and said ingratiatingly, "Very well, very well, Binghui is indeed farsighted and ambitious... May you soon pass the imperial examination with flying colors, have a bright future, and enjoy your youthful days in style, seeing all the flowers of Chang'an in a single day!"
She wondered if telling Binghui that she had chosen the seventh prince would shock him.
Binghui smiled at Huairou without speaking. He didn't tell her that his father and General Guo were already engaged, a perfect match between a daughter of a military family and the daughter of a prime minister. The marriage would take place when he passed the imperial examinations and established himself in the court. This secret weighed heavily on his heart, and every time he saw Huairou's bright eyes, he almost wanted to reveal his feelings. But he couldn't—his family's expectations and the delicate political situation wouldn't allow him to act impulsively.
As dusk deepened, Huairou took her leave. Binghui stood at the study door, watching her receding figure, and suddenly felt that this childhood sweetheart seemed to be hiding too many secrets he couldn't understand. Huairou, meanwhile, walked along the corridor, her mind preoccupied with how to pass the imperial examination and how to get chosen by the least favored seventh prince.
Time flies like an arrow, and autumn is already in full swing. Qingshan Academy is hosting its annual poetry and prose gathering, the most important opportunity to showcase one's abilities before the imperial examinations. Huairou has meticulously prepared a piece on "Governing the Country," not only citing classical texts but also proposing specific strategies for reducing taxes and encouraging agriculture. As she stands on the lecture hall, speaking eloquently, many scions of prominent families in the audience show expressions of surprise.
"...Therefore it is said: the people are the foundation of the state, and when the foundation is firm, the state is at peace. Although the border is currently safe, floods frequently occur in the south and droughts continue in the northwest. If we cannot take care of the people's plight and reduce taxes and levies, we may lose the people's hearts..." Huairou's voice was clear and firm, not at all like the delicate and gentle voice of an ordinary young lady.
Binghui sat in the front row, watching Huairou's radiant performance on stage, his heart filled with both pride and mixed emotions. He knew Huairou's talent should not be buried, yet he also understood how unfair this world was to women. After the speech, he nodded repeatedly. The academy's headmaster stroked his beard and praised, "Guo Huairou's essay is worthy of first-class honors."
What was originally a showcase among the sons of noble families took an unexpected turn afterward, with princes sending invitations to their chosen students for a banquet. Huairou received invitations from the Fourth and Thirteenth Princes, leaving her somewhat disappointed. Binghui also received invitations from the Second and Fourth Princes. He approached Huairou and said, "It seems all the princes are very well-informed, showing respect for scholars early on, laying a solid foundation for the future."
Binghui knew Huairou had her own preferences, but he didn't say anything. He simply put away the invitation and asked Huairou, "Which family's banquet are you attending?" Huairou gazed at the ornate patterns on the prince's invitation and replied, "The Fourth Prince's and Thirteenth Prince's residences are filled with guests, mostly officials exchanging pleasantries. Many female students admire them, so inviting me is just a matter of courtesy. It won't matter if I'm not there." She didn't explicitly state her choice, but Binghui had already discerned the clue from the way her fingers lingered on the invitation.
Binghui accepted the invitations from the Second Prince and the Fourth Prince, but Huairou ultimately did not attend any of the banquets. It was not that she intentionally refused, but rather that it was not appropriate for a woman to be in such occasions if she did not intend to.
From that day on, Huairou began to collect bits and pieces about the Seventh Prince, intentionally or unintentionally. From casual conversations with her classmates and from annotations in the corners of the academy's books, she gradually pieced together a vague yet captivating image: taciturn but not arrogant, studious but not pedantic, standing alone among the princes like a solitary orchid, unmoved by the emperor's favor, and never competing with others.
Occasionally, she would use the excuse of seeking advice on military strategy to inquire about the princes' studies from the old tutor who had once served in the palace. When the old tutor mentioned the Seventh Prince, he would always nod slightly: "The Seventh Prince is fond of quiet and loves the library. Whenever he has free time, he immerses himself in ancient books and has unique insights into military strategy and geography." Huairou silently made a note of this and would find relevant classics to read at night after returning home.
As the first snow of winter quietly descended, covering the green tiles and white walls of Qingshan Academy, the day of the imperial examination drew ever closer, and the atmosphere in the academy grew increasingly tense. Huairou studied even harder, often burning the midnight oil. Occasionally, when he looked up at the snow-laden branches outside the window, he would think of Yunji's calm eyes, which would give him even more motivation.
That day, Huairou was studying in his study when he heard several students talking outside the window. He opened the window and saw that the snow in the courtyard had been trampled into several messy footprints.
"What happened?" Huairou asked a passing servant. Xiao Jin whispered, "I heard there's been some unusual activity in the northern border, and His Majesty summoned his ministers for a meeting overnight." Huairou's heart skipped a beat, suddenly recalling how similar events in the history of another world often became opportunities for princes to distinguish themselves. She quietly retreated to her study, but began to pay close attention to the court's movements.
A few days later, news spread throughout the academy: the Seventh Prince, Yunji, had submitted a memorial arguing that the situation in the northern border should be addressed primarily through appeasement, and that it was unwise to rashly launch a military campaign. The memorial provided a detailed analysis of the border people's conditions, the allocation of provisions, and even the impact of the climate, demonstrating clear reasoning and insightful observations.
"The Seventh Prince's remarks do indeed contradict the mainstream opinion," one student remarked. "After all, without the support of military strategists, he can't speak with much authority," another echoed.
Huairou stood under the eaves, gazing absently at the swirling snowflakes, lost in thought. That evening, she laid out paper and ink, writing down her recent reflections on border policy, but she didn't know where to send them. Finally, she folded the paper and put it in a box.
On the eve of the imperial examination, Huairou stood at the highest point of the academy, gazing at the lights of the distant capital. Snowflakes drifted onto her shoulders, the chill seeping through her clothes, but unable to cool the warmth in her heart. Memories and emotions belonging to Moli, like the mist over distant mountains, gently shrouded her choice, making her unconsciously want to stay by his side.
Meanwhile, in a distant corner of the palace, Yunji stood before his desk, holding a selection of outstanding works from the Qingshan Academy Poetry and Prose Society. He had deliberately folded a corner of one of the essays, "Strategies for Governing the Country." The author's name was Huairou. His gaze swept across the swirling snow outside the window, recalling the fleeting glimpse of her figure beneath the crabapple tree that day, and a slight smile unconsciously crept onto his lips.
The snow fell heavier and heavier, covering the green mountains, the palaces, and even the secrets quietly growing in everyone's heart. But some destinies had already taken root and sprouted unnoticed, waiting only for spring to break through the soil and flourish.
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