happy
On a spring day in Yunnan, pear blossoms fall like fresh snow. I held Shangguan Ying's hand and taught her how to trace Chinese characters, her wrist heavy with the weight of the rice paper. Ziling gave birth to twins for me, a boy and a girl, only one year old. They were named "Ouyang An" and "Ouyang Ning." Ziling was too tired to take care of them, so their mother came to Yunnan to live with us and take care of three children for me. The pen paused, and the ink smudged on the last horizontal stroke of the character "Qing." This was the name for our next child. Ziling told me that she was very happy to raise children with the one she loved, and she wanted to have many children. I felt the same way. Looking at Lang'er, An'er, and Ning'er sleeping beside me, the happiness in my heart seemed to overflow.
I received a letter from Yishan today. Suxin named their chubby son "Nianming." The brutish man's ink clumps at the end of the letter; he must have cried while writing. I smiled and held the letter up to the candlelight. Ziling rushed to grab it. She called Yishan a fool and Suxin a virtuous woman, but she also hoped the child would resemble Yishan. She bought him a pair of tiger-head shoes.
Last month, sword-obsessed Bai Tong sent a peachwood sword, claiming it was for his nephew to ward off evil spirits. Shen Bingxin stuffed a box full of dried plums into the package, claiming it was for Zi Ling's unborn child. It was just too hard for Sima Lingfeng—that fellow's letters were always filled with sarcasm, with ink-drenched inscriptions like, "Ouyang Ming, you owe me! You actually left me alone in Sifang City as the Imperial Master."
At night, a small star appeared next to Shangguan Yan's General star, signifying the birth of a son with Sima Changfeng. Chou Doufu's Emperor star remained stable, though it was always overshadowed by Ouyang Yingying's Phoenix star, confirming his henpecked fate. Only my father's star hung dimly in the northwest corner. Yesterday, Yingying wrote to say that although my father had lost his martial arts skills, he was healthy and well, though he often scolded me for being unfilial. Sima, the great general, and Nong Yue, the imperial preceptor, were doing their jobs perfectly, and Sifang City was enjoying good weather and good harvests.
Zi Ling's footsteps echoed in the corridor, and I hurriedly put away the astrolabe. She couldn't stand the smell of incense anymore, even the agarwood she used for stargazing had been replaced with fresh fruits and vegetables. A bamboo basket held freshly picked lotus pods. She peeled a lotus seed and popped it into my mouth. As the bitter taste spread, I suddenly remembered how she had fed me candied lotus seeds that year at Ouyang Villa.
"Is it sweet?" she asked, her eyes shimmering with the beauty of Yunnan's lakes and mountains. I leaned over to kiss her fingertips, stained with lotus leaves, and placed my hand on her belly. At that moment, the baby gave a gentle kick. She cried out in surprise, and the pear petals slid down her collar and into the crook of her neck. From the window, the cries of merchants mingled with the noise of children playing and chasing each other. The movement of the stars, the vastness of the world, could not compare to her smile and frown at that moment.
Sima Lingfeng, sneezing amidst the pile of memorials, surely had no idea the bastard he'd cursed was busy shopping for clothes for his unborn daughter. Shangguan Yan, gazing at the bright moon at the border, thought of the disabled young man who had divined and healed her wounds on Mount Tianshan. That young man had willingly sacrificed his life for her. He saw her as the moon, and she saw him as the moon. Then, looking down at the tall, graceful man before her and her newborn daughter, she realized this was the happiness within her reach. That once-robust young man, now a commonplace man willing to have his clothes rumpled by his wife and children, was no match for him.
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