Chapter 247: Plum Blossoms Embroider Needles, Horse Hooves Urge the Journey
Dusk, like a piece of ink-soaked velvet, slowly crept across the glazed tiles of the Forbidden City. Inside the warm room of Shufangzhai, however, it was as bright as day. Eight glazed lamps hung from the beams, illuminating the room's brocade with an even more dazzling brilliance. Little Swallow was lying on the long rosewood table, her nose almost touching the wedding dress, which had been altered to its initial form.
"Move the pearl here half an inch to the left!" She pointed at the edge of the new white fox fur trim at her collar, where a circle of oriental pearls the size of pigeon eggs lay. "It should sparkle like stars surrounding the moon, only then it will look beautiful!"
Nanny Zhang, wearing reading glasses, carefully fixed the pearls with a fine needle. The silver needle cast a tiny silver light under the light. "Don't worry, Princess. I will make this collar more beautiful than the snowy scenery in the imperial garden."
Yongqi sat on a rosewood chair nearby, flipping through a military manual, his gaze drifting to the busy figure at the desk. Xiaoyanzi wore a coral-red satin jacket with scattered flowers. Her jet-black hair was tied loosely in a bun, a few strands cascading down her cheeks, stained a light golden brown by the light. She sometimes frowned as she instructed, sometimes bent to examine, the jade pendant at her waist jingling softly with each movement.
"Yongqi, look!" Xiaoyanzi suddenly ran over, holding a cut piece of gold thread, the rice beads on it jingling in her palm. "Tear this thing apart and make a purse to hang around your waist. It's guaranteed to be more eye-catching than that jade pendant!"
Yongqi closed the book and took her raised wrist. Her fingertips were stained with bits of gold thread, and the veins pulsated softly beneath her cool skin. "Okay," he said, his eyes brimming with smile, his voice low and sweet, "but this gold thread is very prickly. Don't hurt your soft paws."
"Who's weak?" Xiaoyanzi pulled her hand back and punched him on the arm, but he grabbed it instead. The light cast their shadows on the wall, like a crumpled and flattened painting. She could smell the faint scent of pine ink mixed with the chill after the snow. Her heart skipped a beat, and she hurriedly broke free of his hand, turning and running to the embroidery frame. "I'm ignoring you! I'm going to embroider a tiger head on my son's jacket!"
Yongqi looked at her reddened ears, the smile on his lips deepening. He stood up, walked to the window, and pushed it open a crack. The wintersweet in the courtyard had bloomed at some point, its golden petals against the lingering snow, emitting a refreshing fragrance in the twilight. In the distance came the sound of the night watchman's clappers, "dong-dong-dong," as if urging good times to come.
Ziwei's bedroom, however, exuded a different kind of tranquility. A celadon-glazed table lamp sat on the dressing table, its dim glow shrouding the open brocade box. Inside was no gold, silver, or jewelry, only a stack of yellowed stationery and a carved wooden comb.
Ziwei sat at her dressing table, her fingertips gently tracing the familiar handwriting on the letter. It was her mother, Xia Yuhe's, handwriting, and between the lines was a longing for her father, the ink smudged with faint traces of time. She picked up the wooden comb, a few fine silver hairs still tangled in its teeth, presumably the one her mother had used often.
"Are you all packed?" Erkang's voice sounded at the door. He changed into a navy blue suit that was convenient for traveling, and tied a sword around his waist, which made him look more upright.
Ziwei looked up, her eyes slightly red. "Well, that's all I'll take." She carefully placed the letter and the wooden comb into the brocade box. "Mother always says that seeing things is like seeing people. Bringing these with her will surely make her happy."
Erkang walked up behind her, his hands gently resting on her shoulders. The bronze mirror reflected their cuddling figures, and he could see the lingering moisture in her eyes. "Don't be sad," he whispered, caressing her slightly cold shoulders with his fingertips. "We're going to tell my mother-in-law that her daughter has found a home and will be well-loved from now on."
Ziwei picked up the warm jade hairpin beside the bronze mirror. The half-bloomed plum blossom on the tip shone softly in the light. Erkang had found it, claiming it could "warm the body and even the heart." She tucked the hairpin into her temples, and the reflection in the mirror seemed to bring a sense of peace to her features.
"We have to leave early tomorrow morning," Erkang said softly, looking at her in the mirror. "Go to bed early."
Ziwei nodded, but didn't move. She took his hand, which was on her shoulder, and traced the lines of his palm with her fingertips. "Erkang," she whispered, "when we get to Jinan, let's go for a walk along Daming Lake. Mother said the lotus flowers there are the most beautiful."
"Okay." Erkang held her hand tightly. "After we pay our respects to my mother-in-law, we'll go boating and see all the lotus flowers there."
The wind outside blew snowflakes against the window paper, making a soft rustling sound. A tiny spark flew from the celadon wick on the dressing table, stretching their shadows even longer, tangling them into an inextricable ball of warmth.
The lights were still on in the guesthouse's backyard. Liu Qing was climbing a ladder, nailing a bright red "囍" (Happy Birthday) character to the doorframe. He was wearing a brand new royal blue cotton robe, but his movements were clumsy, and the "囍" character was nailed crookedly.
"A little to the left! A little more to the left!" Jinsuo stood below and gave the orders, holding in her hand a freshly embroidered red veil with lotus flowers embroidered on it with gold thread, and the stitches were so fine and realistic.
Liu Qing looked down at her, the white breath he exhaled condensing into mist in the cold night: "Is this okay?"
Jinsuo stood on tiptoe, looking up at the crooked "囍" character, and suddenly burst out laughing. "Brother Liu, the way you nailed the "囍" character looks like a mandarin duck with a crooked neck." She lowered her veil, climbed up the ladder herself, and gently straightened the "囍" character with her fingertips. "It has to be like this, straight and perfect, for good luck."
Liu Qing looked at her serious profile, the snowflakes falling in her hair like a handful of salt. He suddenly reached out and brushed the snow away from her hair, his fingertips accidentally touching her earlobe, burning it like a ball of fire.
Jinsuo suddenly retracted her neck, her cheeks redder than the veil: "You...what are you doing?"
"Nothing," Liu Qing scratched his head, chuckled, and jumped down the ladder. "Look, there's snow on your hair." He picked up the veil from the ground and carefully unfolded it. "This lotus embroidery is really well done, even better than the ones sold in embroidery shops."
"Of course," Jinsuo raised her chin, her eyes sparkling. "I've been embroidering it for three whole months!" As she spoke, she remembered something and pulled out a small sachet from her bosom and stuffed it into his hand. "This is for you. It's filled with mugwort to repel insects."
Liu Qing pinched the soft sachet, and his nose seemed to be able to smell the faint aroma of mugwort mixed with the scent of soapberry on her body. He put the sachet in his arms, pressed it against his heart, and said with a silly smile, "I carry it with me every day."
The lanterns in the guest house swayed gently in the wind, casting their shadows on the snowy ground. They were so thin and long that they looked like an invisible red thread, quietly entwining their two hearts together.
Before daybreak, the gates of the Fu Mansion were already open. Two plainly decorated carriages stopped at the gate, with the driver, wrapped in a thick cotton-padded jacket, waiting beside them with white breath.
Ziwei wore a plain cloak, its hood covering most of her face, revealing only her delicate chin. She clutched the brocade box containing her mother's relics tightly, her knuckles white from the strain. Erkang stood beside her, dressed in a navy blue suit, the sword at his waist gleaming coldly in the morning light.
"Be careful on the road." Fu Lun stood on the steps and said solemnly, "Come back as soon as possible after the worship, don't miss the auspicious time."
"Don't worry, Dad." Erkang bowed and his eyes fell on Ziwei, "We will take good care of ourselves."
Jinsuo helped Ziwei into the carriage. As the curtains fell, Ziwei glanced back at the vermilion gate of the Fu Mansion, feeling a sudden sense of emptiness. Erkang then boarded and sat beside her. His presence instantly filled the carriage, bringing her a strange sense of peace.
"Don't be afraid." Erkang held her hand, his fingertips stroking her cold fingertips, "I'm here."
The wheels of the carriage began to roll, making crisp sounds as they rolled over the thinly icy road. Ziwei lifted a corner of the carriage curtain and watched the familiar street scene slowly recede, silently saying to herself: Mother, I'm here to see you.
The distant sky had, at some point, begun to turn pale. A faint ray of sunlight pierced the clouds, gilding the glazed tiles of the Forbidden City. In the warm room of Shufangzhai, Xiaoyanzi was still arguing with the embroiderers, insisting on having the hem of her wedding dress narrowed an inch. In the courtyard of the guesthouse, Liu Qing was clumsily trying to apply window decorations, making Jinsuo both angry and amused. And on the official road to Jinan, a carriage, laden with longing and hope, sailed towards the distance.
Good days are really near.
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