Chapter 49 No Way Out of This Situation
As dawn broke and dew glistened, the Yongzhou villa was bathed in a hazy, greyish-white light. Huairou was awakened by a distinct feeling of hunger in her stomach. She sat up abruptly, the brocade quilt slipping from her shoulders, bringing a touch of coolness. Looking around, she was astonished to find herself peacefully asleep on her bed, not in the study where she had been working the night before.
The fear, self-reflection, and resolve of last night returned instantly, like a bucket of cold water being poured over her head. She couldn't stay here any longer! Huairou hurriedly threw off the covers and got out of bed, her steps unsteady. The maid outside the door seemed to have been waiting all along. Hearing the noise, she gently pushed the door open and entered, carrying warm water and a towel, skillfully helping her to wash and dress.
Huairou suppressed the pounding in her heart, letting the maid comb her long hair as she spoke with feigned composure, though her voice trembled slightly: "Thank you for your hospitality these past few days. I... I've had breakfast, and I'll take my leave today." She had to leave immediately, return to the relatively "safe" Guo residence, and return to the path her father had laid out for her.
The maid skillfully tied up the last bun of her hair, inserted a simple jade hairpin, and smiled gently upon hearing this, a smile that seemed to hide some deep meaning: "Farewell? Are you going home, young lady? The master traveled day and night for you, and only arrived here late last night, covered in dust."
Huairou felt a buzzing in her head, and she froze on the spot, as if she had truly turned to stone. Jiancheng Jun… he's here?! Just last night?! It's all my fault for being so stubborn; why did I have to come here and run into him!
She desperately tried to conceal the turmoil in her heart and the unbearable embarrassment she felt, forcing a weak smile at the maid: "Ming, I understand... You, you go ahead and do your work. We'll...we'll have breakfast together later." She needed time and space to process this sudden turn of events.
After the maid left, Huairou immediately began frantically erasing all traces of her presence from the bedroom. She neatly folded the bedding and gathered the scattered items on the dressing table, as if this would deny that she had ever been there, as if the inexplicable warmth of her embrace last night might not have been a dream. She didn't bother to ponder where that warmth came from; she only wanted to escape as quickly as possible. She took a heavy silver ingot from her purse and solemnly placed it on the coffee table in the center of the room, as payment for the past few days' "room fee," thus clearing herself of the awkwardness of her uninvited arrival.
She lifted her skirt and, like a startled fawn, hurried across the corridor to the stables in the backyard. She wanted to leave quietly from there, avoiding all possible sight.
The stable was dimly lit, filled with the scent of hay and livestock. Inside the high enclosure, several horses were leisurely munching on fodder. Huairou crouched low, anxiously searching among the herd for her docile mount. Just as she touched her horse's reins, preparing to quietly lead it out, the surrounding horses seemed to sense something, pacing restlessly and making way for her.
At the end of the herd of horses, a tall figure stood quietly.
Zhen Jiancheng, dressed in a worn-out dark riding outfit, looked travel-worn, with dark circles under his eyes, clearly indicating he hadn't had a proper rest after a long journey. He stood there quietly, his gaze deep, fixed on the figure about to "escape." A few days ago, upon receiving a report from a servant that Huairou had arrived alone at the Yongzhou villa, he almost immediately abandoned all non-urgent official duties, mounted his fastest warhorse, and rushed there day and night without regard for anything else. When he arrived in the middle of the night, he saw his beloved sleeping alone on the cold table, her thin shoulders seemingly trembling slightly in her sleep. At that moment, heartache and pity almost overwhelmed his reason. He carefully picked her up, placed her on the warm bed, and held her for a short rest, feeling the fullness of regaining what he had lost, yet also overwhelmed by her unconscious dependence. As dawn broke, he got up and went to the stable to check on his horse's worn-out hooves from the journey, only to unexpectedly witness her trying to leave without saying goodbye.
An indescribable mix of grievance, anger, and a deep fear of loss welled up inside him. Looking at her flustered and helpless state, he felt a tightness in his chest and unconsciously raised his voice, his booming tone carrying a hint of resentment as he questioned her, which sounded particularly clear in the quiet morning stable:
"Young lady, we slept together for one night, and you're in such a hurry to leave after waking up? Won't you stay for breakfast before continuing your journey?"
These words were too direct, too naked, almost tearing away all pretense of restraint. Huairou's cheeks instantly flushed, like the sunset's glow. She tried to adjust her expression, attempting to summon the "insensitivity" of a modern soul to cope, but found it utterly futile. Her heart pounded like a drum, each beat pounding against her eardrums. Yet, at the same time, a secret, irrepressible sweetness quietly spread through her heart. Women, oh women, all reason, all caution, seem so fragile and vulnerable before someone who truly moves them, unable to withstand that pure affection.
But she was still somewhat unwilling to "admit defeat" so easily, and stubbornly retorted, but her voice involuntarily lowered: "Who, who is leaving? Your Majesty, I am just... just going out to catch the early market."
"Your Majesty?" Seeing her still putting on a brave face, Zhen Jiancheng felt both amused and annoyed. Without another word, he deftly and powerfully resaddled his horse. Then, he strode forward, reached out without a word, and gently lifted Huairou by the waist, placing her securely on the back of his magnificent black horse. Before Huairou could cry out, he had already mounted the horse, sitting behind her, one hand on the reins, the other naturally and firmly encircling her waist, pulling her into his embrace.
“In that case, I will escort you there!” His voice rang in her ears, carrying an unquestionable tone and a sigh of relief.
All of Huairou's struggles and explanations vanished in an instant. She could only silently submit, feeling the warmth of his chest and the scent emanating from him—a scent that was both comforting and unsettling. Ultimately, her heart softened. She leaned back slightly, almost curling up in his arms, greedily absorbing the real warmth she had felt in her dreams the previous night. The horse strode steadily, carrying the two of them, slowly leaving the courtyard.
The next few days felt like stolen time. All the barriers, suspicions, and fears melted away in the face of the joy and honesty of their reunion. They strolled along the stream and under the trees outside Yongzhou City, and sat side by side in the warm lamplight of the study in the villa, sharing the longing, worries, and unspeakable feelings that had been buried deep in their hearts over the years.
On a night with sparse stars and a gentle breeze, the two sat on a stone bench in the courtyard. Zhen Jiancheng was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked timidly in a low voice, "Huairou... why... why do you like me..." After asking, he seemed a little embarrassed, his gaze wandering, unable to look her in the eye.
Huairou was holding a small twig, unconsciously scratching at the soft mud. Hearing his question, she didn't stop, but her voice, unusually gentle and direct, softly rang out: "I like your voice, deep and strong, it makes me feel at ease." She paused, the twig leaving another mark. "I like your scent, the smell of ink, the scent of grass, and... your very own." Her voice softened, almost melting into the night. "I like the warmth of your skin, the strength within you, the breath that brushes against my ear when you're close..."
Zhen Jiancheng's face suddenly flushed crimson in the night, the color spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He was overjoyed, as if he had drunk the finest wine, yet he forced himself to suppress it, asking softly like a child asking for candy, "And...and there's more?"
Huairou raised her head, looked up at the starry sky, her eyes clear: "I also like your honesty with me. Even though our statuses are so different, you still tried your best to interact with me as 'Lord Jiancheng'. I like the straightforwardness you showed when we first met, I like your unconditional trust in me, and... the gentleness and kindness you showed to me alone, hidden beneath your imperial majesty."
Zhen Jiancheng could no longer restrain himself and stretched out his arms to tightly embrace the exquisite woman beside him. His feeling was correct; in Huairou's eyes, he was first and foremost the "Zhen Jiancheng" she knew, and only secondly the high and mighty emperor.
Huairou didn't stop. She nestled against his chest and continued to speak the words that had been weighing on her heart for so long: "I also like your attitude towards all things in the world, tolerant yet prudent; I like your governing philosophy, which has the people in your heart as well as the law; I like your demeanor in dealing with people, which has both swift and decisive measures and a compassionate heart." She tilted her head slightly, looking at his well-defined jawline, "I like the focused look on your face when you talk to me; I like your undisguised appreciation and care for me..." Each word of affection was like a pebble thrown into a lake, creating ripples in his heart.
Zhen Jiancheng felt that at this moment he was the happiest and most prosperous person in the world.
Huairou wasn't one to passively accept questions. She adjusted to a more comfortable position in his arms and bluntly asked the question that had been lingering in her mind for a long time: "And you? Why do you like me? Is it because... I look like Yunji's mother?" Her heart tightened slightly as she asked the question.
Upon hearing this, Zhen Jiancheng paused for a moment, then chuckled softly, his chest trembling. "You must have seen the paintings in my study." He shook his head helplessly yet affectionately. "Some of your expressions are indeed very similar. When I was with Yunji's mother, we were both very young, around sixteen or seventeen years old. Time was beautiful but fleeting, and we didn't know that one day we would be separated forever... For a long time, I didn't have any portraits of her. This is also why Yunji has never truly 'seen' his mother's appearance all these years."
His tone deepened with emotion: "Until I met you. You cared so much for Yunji, always thinking of him, even calling his name in your dreams... I admit, I was extremely jealous. I was also jealous of Lu Binghui, but he was your rightful betrothed, the son of a high-ranking official, and I couldn't easily interfere. Yunji is my son, the future crown prince, and I couldn't neglect him because of personal feelings. In fact... before his wedding, I even had a despicable worry that if you said 'yes' to Yunji, given his dependence on you, he couldn't possibly refuse to marry you..."
He tightened his arms around her, as if trying to meld her into his very bones: "Perhaps this obsession runs too deep. I don't know when it started, but all the portraits I paint have become of you. Countless sleepless days and nights, I've painted one after another, trying to capture that captivating spirit. Until later, I realized that even after the announcement of Yunji and Yuanya's marriage, you still cared for him deeply, your affection pure and warm. At that time, I thought, what harm is there in telling Yunji that his mother resembles you? As long as he can feel that he is deeply loved by his father and mother, and can walk the path of the crown prince more firmly, that's enough. I think, even if his real mother were alive, she might not have done better for him than you..."
He paused, his voice lowering, with a barely perceptible hoarseness: "And, actually, I have my own selfish reasons. I was thinking that perhaps one day, if you have the chance to see those paintings... you might be able to sense from them my... desire to be with you."
Huairou listened quietly, and the huge weight in her heart finally lifted. She smiled with relief, like the first snow melting in spring. At least she knew that Jiancheng had always loved the real Guo Huairou, not a substitute for another woman.
"Then why did you name my academy 'Liyuan'? Is it to commemorate Yunji's mother, Zhili?" Huairou pressed her advantage, posing another question. Jiancheng lowered his head, affectionately touching her forehead with the tip of his high nose, his warm breath brushing against her skin. "I thought you already knew," his voice held a hint of helpless laughter, "Why didn't you look at the little poem on the back? It represents my longing for you, like wild grass on the plains, growing wildly and uncontrollably. Even if burned to ashes by raging fire, it will sprout again as long as the spring breeze blows, endlessly. And 'Liyuan' represents my protection of you. I promised to help you, this little tailor, mend and patch up my country."
So that's how it is! A surge of emotion and sweetness welled up in Huairou's heart. She shyly raised her head, leaned forward, and placed a soft, feather-like kiss on his profile, so close to hers. Then, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, and in an almost inaudible voice, finally revealed the timidity hidden deep within her heart:
"Actually... I have my own selfish reasons too. Although I like you, I've never dared to show it... because I can't help but imagine that someone as wonderful as you must have many, many families, and many, many people who admire you. My little bit of affection, in the end... may just remain unknown, lost in the deep palaces and halls..."
Feeling the slight tremor of the body in his arms, Zhen Jiancheng felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his heart tightly, the pain spreading to every part of his body. He lowered his head, pulling Huairou even deeper and tighter into his embrace, as if afraid that if he let go, she would vanish like the morning mist. He remained silent, a silence filled with endless helplessness and heavy guilt.
After a long, long time—so long that Huairou thought he wouldn't speak again—he finally spoke slowly, in an extremely deliberate tone, as if each word carried the weight of a thousand pounds:
“Huairou, I have three wives. One is the Empress, and two are concubines. I believe… you already know. They have all borne me children.” His voice was dry. “As part of the imperial power, they are not only the Emperor’s wives, but also… hostages used by the imperial power to restrain and utilize the power of their families. They are invisible bargaining chips to ensure that their sons who have left the palace to serve in their fiefdoms will never rebel. Therefore… they will probably never be able to leave that palace easily in their lives.”
Huairou listened silently without interrupting. His narration was calm and objective, as if he were recounting a tragedy that had no bearing on her own life and was already destined. She felt as if she were listening to someone else's story, but the protagonist of that story was the man who was embracing her at that moment.
“If I divorce them,” he continued, his voice tinged with suppressed pain, “the imperial power will lose its grip on these families, and the court will inevitably descend into turmoil. If I neglect them, their families will be disgraced and their power diminished, and their offspring will become estranged from me, even harboring resentment…”
He took a deep breath, as if trying to inhale the heavy shackles into his lungs: "I thought of many, many solutions, appeasement... I thought about it over and over again, but... none of them could be a solution that would satisfy everyone and properly settle everyone. Because of this, I feel... a deep sense of inferiority, so painful... that I feel like I'm dying."
He loosened one hand, then clenched it into a fist, his knuckles turning white from the force: "If I were to marry you as my concubine, you would immediately become a new pawn in this cold game of imperial power. You would become a bird in a gilded cage, losing the sky to soar in; you would become a new and more conspicuous bargaining chip for the Guo family, pushed to the forefront of controversy; you would become the target of resentment, exclusion, and even plotting against by the other concubines in the harem... The more I understand you, the more I know that you shouldn't be that kind of person; the more I cherish you, the more I understand... I absolutely cannot treat you like that."
His voice was filled with a helpless pain, the despair of an emperor struggling between personal feelings and national responsibility: "My life seems to have been locked up by this dragon robe and this throne. Even if I pass the throne to Yunji in the future, what I should give him is a relatively stable and balanced court, not a harem that has spiraled out of control because of me, and a group of brothers who have turned against him. I can't... I can't be so selfish as to bind you and me together forever within these high, cold, and calculating palace walls."
You are the descendant of a famous general, with a marriage arranged like a beautiful encounter, and the ideals and talents to establish a virtuous family and benefit the people... If my longing and love for you are for the purpose of possession, it will only become a heavy shackle that cuts off your spirit and imprisons your wings..."
Huairou nodded, oblivious to everything. Every word he uttered was like a cold needle, piercing her heart, a wound she had already anticipated countless times. Yes, with his kindness and sense of responsibility, and her naiveté and unwillingness to compromise, this was simply an unsolvable dilemma. Neither of them could abandon everything and live only for themselves.
They fell silent, only embracing each other more tightly, as if trying to merge into one another's very being. Night deepened, and they fell asleep in each other's arms, a kiss tinged with the saltiness of tears and endless bitterness. Perhaps only in that sleep could they find a moment of peace and fulfillment.
In the middle of the night, Huairou woke up. The moonlight outside the window was pale and desolate, casting a silvery glow through the windowpane. She knew this was the last night. Farewell was imminent, and she couldn't bear to waste this precious, stolen time in her sleep.
She rose quietly, her movements gentle, afraid of disturbing the sleeping person beside her. She gazed silently at Jiancheng's sleeping face. The moonlight outlined his straight nose and tightly pursed lips; even in his sleep, a heavy weight seemed to linger between his brows. She stretched out a finger, hovering it in the air, vaguely tracing his outline, wanting to etch his appearance, his eyes, everything about him, deeply and fiercely into her heart, into her soul. Whether as Ji Moling from another world or as Guo Huairou of this world, this man was the person she most wanted to be with in this life.
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, countless verses surged within her, and finally coalesced into that ancient and sorrowful ballad, which sang silently in her heart:
Spring waters fill the ponds, and spring grasses sprout in springtime.
People drink spring wine in spring, and birds sing spring songs.
You were born before I was born, and I was born after you had grown old.
You regret that I was born too late, and I regret that you were born too early.
As dawn broke, Huairou left. She did not wake anyone, leaving only an empty room and the sleeping emperor, whose brows seemed even more furrowed at her departure.
She rode her horse alone on her journey home. The morning breeze caressed her veil and dried the cold tears that kept sliding down her cheeks. She remembered a line of poetry she had read in a book when she was still Ji Moli, and now it seemed to perfectly capture the helpless and sorrowful ending between her and Jiancheng: "How can one find a way to have it all, to be true to both Buddha and to my beloved?"
Tears streamed down her face, her heart ached. The road ahead was long, and beyond the palace walls lay… two different worlds. Moli could not, in the end, pretend to live like Huairou.
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